Showing posts with label Oregon. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Oregon. Show all posts

Monday, July 15, 2013

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.

Tuesday, April 24, 2012

Going Local on the Road

The low ceilings of Ye Olde Castle and Antique Emporium in Burns, OR,  drip with antique toys, and every wall, nook, and cranny is festooned with items of charm and/or weirdness. Delightful!
It's sooo easy to slide into a Red Lion or a Hyatt or a Motel 6 or whatever motel/hotel clone appears on your travel route. You know what to expect. It'll be clean. You'll have WiFi and probably a big-screen TV. There'll be a predictable "free" breakfast that, if you're lucky, will include a bit of protein to share your styrofoam plate with massive carbs. Ditto the road food. You know what's goin' down at Apple Cellar, Shari's, and if you're in a desperate hurry, MacDonald's. The chains are easy hits along the main thoroughfares, but the local gems are hidden.

Not anymore.  Got a smartphone? That's all it takes. That and a mindset that prefers adventure over all-the-same on the road. Delicious regionalism exists, despite a huge effort at national homogenization and Big Brand blanketing. The little hide-aways and pockets of eccentrics wishing to sell their wares and offer you a bed and a hot shower exist everywhere. All you have to do is want to find them and recognize that the journey can be as fun as the destination. 

On a recent trip to western Wyoming, the skiing diehards, to their credit, decided that we'd have nothing but local food and lodging on our return trip to Southern Oregon. Four of them in one vehicle, equipped with smart phones in search mode, checked out the Yelp! and tripadvisor picks along the way to select our culinary and slumber sites. It was good. Very good.

Consider Ye Olde Castle in Burns, OR, which we've passed maybe 20 times over the years without even considering stopping. It looks like a wreck, a dive, lost in the 1950s without a facelift. It looked so unpromising, as did all the other cafes the Diehards rejected as they searched Burns for breakfast, with PK and I bumping over curbs and through alleys as we followed. The Diehards even touched down in the Apple Cellar parking lot, but after 10 seconds, roared off, back to Ye Olde Castle.
Here it is, in all its un-glory,  on Hwy. 20, the main drag through Burns.
The wooden walkway was frayed and creaky, paint flaked from the walls, and I thought, Ok, here we go! Me of little faith. But the place captured me. A round table near the entry was populated with old guys in bib overalls, a sure sign of local approval. Then there were the toys and bicycles and antiques and paintings converging into the aisles. This decor would never pass muster in a chain restaurant.

Items are artlessly displayed but were collected with love. And dust.

Here's Roxanne, the dishwasher, cook and waitress. She's worked here for 30 years and now
lives in quarters above the restaurant. She told us about the resident ghosts and
the phantom crying baby.  Would she be happy working at Denny's? No way.
Ye Olde Castle's breakfast was OK. Typical fare that you would expect at a chain,  except that one in our party scored a six-egg omelette, and I was thrilled with an Atkins' breakfast of eggs, bacon/sausage and low-carb toast. It wasn't the food that scored the reviews and pledges to return, however, it was the bicycle room dividers and the copper-plated prints en route to the restroom and on and on. Ye Olde Castle is not yet reviewed on Yelp! or tripadvisor. Just go there if passing through Burns.

Burns yielded other discoveries:
The Silver Spur Motel, $42 per night with "cowboy hospitality,"  was clean and featured some cool old timey Western decor and knotty pine walls. If you pulled the curtain back in the bathroom, you could see the "backside" of Burns just one street off the main drag: dilapidated houses, scruffy lots, and junky vehicles. The economy has been particularly hard on rural Oregon. 

But the best thing about the Silver Spur was it's walking-distance proximity to a great surprise gourmet restaurant, Rhojos. My five-star review on tripadvisor:
Wow! Great food and service, reasonable prices. Surprising gourmet quality in rural Oregon. Everything fresh and carefully created. Loved it!
If you're ever passing through Burns, Oregon, don't miss it! Chef Michel Johnson is a culinary wizard working on a four-burner electric stove in a non-gourmet-looking kitchen in full view.  It's all part of the restaurant's charm and local flavor.

Back in Wyoming, we ventured down from the Grand Targhee ski resort into the Teton Valley for dinner at the Knotty Pine Supper Club. The Knotty Pine, as its name suggests, is an old-fashioned restaurant with a dark wooden interior and rich smoky aromas. It also turns out to be a popular venue for traveling big-name bands—Galactic played there in March.  After one meal, it's easy to see why the place draws a crowd. It specializes in house-cured meats and seasonal offerings that include buffalo and elk sausage pasta with garlic, tomatoes, red wine and herbs; and kurobuta pork chops stuffed with chevre and bacon over sweet pea risotto. PK and I shared an excellent warm cabbage salad flavored with pancetta, pecans, garlic, and gorgonzola, a dish that warrants trying to duplicate at home.


My delicious dinner at the Knotty Pine Supper Club in Victor, Idaho. Half a side of house-cured hickory-smoked BBQ ribs, a few veggies, and the biggest serving of the best onion rings ever.
Photo was taken AFTER numerous onion rings were swiped by my companions.

Next up, lunch in Pocatello, Idaho. A Yelp! search yielded the Butterburr, which was not that convenient to the freeway, but then, we weren't in a hurry. Were we? This place is a mom and pop restaurant that serves enormous portions. For a carb-avoider, it wasn't a great choice. I got a Cobb salad that was, to be generous, dismal. But others were pleased with homemade noodle soups, burgers, and scones accompanied by whipped butter with powdered sugar. This is the type of restaurant that contributes mightily to the infamous girth of about two-thirds of the USA population. Yet it gets great Yelp! and tripadvisor reviews and beats the chains. 


I've been back home long enough to enjoy my two local favorites in Rogue River, OR:
The Station and Paisano's Italian Kitchen. There's no place like home.