Get-away on Oregon's Illinois River with Four Wheel Camper

Every now and then PK and I look at each other, nod at our modest, but deluxe-to-us, little camping unit, and, without saying much,  agree. Let's go. Even for one night. It's so easy, after all those years of tent and river camping, to just throw a little food into the Four Wheel camper's refrigerator, fill the propane and water tanks, and hit the road. Someday we hope to do this for months at a time. For now, we must be content with a few days here and there. Most recently, it was to Southern Oregon's Illinois River, a clear rushing stream near (and in) the Kalmiopsis Wilderness. 

Here's what I love about our Four Wheel camper atop our Toyota Tundra: It's light and portable and easily handles narrow and awkward backroads full of potholes and rocks. It has a sink, running water, a refrigerator, a queen-sized bed, a CD/radio/iPod player, a heater, a two-burner propane stove, and battery powered electricity. Lights! Heat! What luxury! We can camp in unofficial campsites such as this. Not a single vehicle passed by because, well, the road sucks. We were a stone's throw from the turquoise splendor of the Illinois River. This spot is about 90 minutes from home. In case you're wondering about the obvious, we carry a portable toilet inside the camper, but use it only for number one. For the other, we have a shovel and good knees.

The Illinois River Falls. I recently learned that son Quinn came here often as a high school student, navigating a terrible road, to walk over the rough basalt, radiating heat waves, to reach the falls and the amazing swimming hole below. What a great teenage playground. I had no idea. Parents, of course, are often clueless. I grew up in North Dakota. We could not imagine such a wonder within easy striking distance. We did have the Mouse River, though. Aptly named.

This sign greeted us at the entry to one of our old stomping grounds, the road over the Chetco Pass leading to a trail to the beautiful Chetco River deep in the Kalmiopsis Wilderness. The Biscuit Fire in 2002 destroyed 500,000 acres and was the primary reason we haven't been back for so long.

Brush is coming back strong from the 2002 fire, but it doesn't replace

the forest that used to be here. Wait another 100 years or so.

For many years we backpacked to the clear and beautiful Chetco River on Memorial Day weekends, including in 1987 when Chris was not quite one and Quinn was not quite 10. I still can't believe we packed a baby in diapers into the wilderness! Rattlesnakes abounded and all Chris wanted to do was eat rocks and throw himself into the river. (This part has not changed.) It wasn't that much fun, to tell the truth. But on this day we went no further on the road to Chetco Pass, but instead hiked a short trail to the Illinois River Falls. 

Creek crossing on one of many short hikes along the Illinois River.

Parking lot at the trailhead to the Illinois River Falls.

The Illinois River rages big time during the winter but in late June 2013, swimming holes are placid and inviting.

Forty (!!!!) years ago friend Grace and I spent four or five days camping on this beach on the Illinois River as I was handling a major transition (build up to divorce) and she was building up to her own tumult. Then, this spot was a mining claim. Today it is hiking destination for an official trail. No more mining claim, and still a gorgeous swimming hole. When Grace and I camped here, we tried to oust a thick rattlesnake by dropping a boulder from a tree (which I somehow climbed with the rock) The boulder missed the snake. The snake looked bored. Amused, maybe? We moved our operations closer to the river. But then....there were the baby rattlers. 

Rare carnivorous pitcher plants native to the Kalmiopsis. 

There's a lot to be said for getting outta Dodge, even for a day or two. Not that I don't love home and garden and friends and every day ordinary life. But somehow, those get-aways trump just about everything. What's next? A quick trip to the Oregon coast coming soon. Damn, we're lucky to live in Southern Oregon.