Oregon & Deserts

We are slowly making our way through Oregon. It is a beautiful state and so far the people have been mostly friendly.

Our first scenic stop was just up the road from the park we stayed at. Crooked River Bridge is quite impressive and one of the better tended viewpoints. It's a green oasis in
the middle of the desert and the sprinklers were a welcome treat on a hot day. Dave was a miserable bastard and just took pictures of me having all the fun!

We pulled up at the RV park and surveyed our surroundings. They were quite different from our previous stop - the trees were replaced with scrub brush and mountains replaced with craggy rock and gorges. We had chosen the RV park because we have a juvenile sense of humour and River Rim RV Park sounded

funny (it turns out they own another RV Park called Big Horn...). But it turned out to be the best RV park we've stayed in yet. The owner, Dave, was an absolute legend. He had an excellent sense of humour, and treated us like he'd known us for years. He gave us a discount on our stay when we told him of our plans. I think he may have also taken pity on us and our vehicle. While we were there, the toilet blocked up. Twice. The first time took us 2 days, a toilet snake, a plunger, sceptic tank waste dissolver and boiling water to shift. It only took a day to amass another blockage, but this time we were prepared! Dave told us not to bother flushing toilet paper. We didn't listen to him the first time, figuring our issue lay in not using toilet paper specifically designed for RV toilets (yes, it does exist). After the second blockage we

heeded his advice. We still have to throw hot water down it a couple times a day, but it flows down! We figure there must be some pooey remnants stuck in the piping, and by throwing water down there, the hardened fun stuff should shift down. Dave will be waiting at the end of the pipe when this happens and we shall make some fine jewelry out of it!

The first day in the park we went down to a bar tucked into a golf course. We thought it was the only one around, and with the name Sandbagger, our juvenile senses were appealed to once again. Shame though, should have realised anywhere with a focus on golfers was going to be a bit rubbish. The staff were awful - loud and abrasive, but not in a charismatic way, more in a "I'm not pretty enough to make it on looks alone, but have fooled myself into think I am" kind of way. They spent more time joking and flirting with the older men who would tip them well for their show of breasts and attention. Fair play I guess. I certainly wasn't going to tip them for their breasts. And believe me, if they were worth it, I would have done. But anyway, we had our drink and left. We had thought that this place was just at the end of our road, but it was about a mile down the road. If we had had more than one drink, we probably would have left them a steaming present on one of the paths we weren't permitted to walk on. Lucky they were bad enough not even alcohol made us stay! On the last day, we found the Big Dog Saloon, which was much more about the locals. While we got eyed with the usual suspicion a city looking folk type gets when entering an establishment like this, they were all very friendly with each other. I got the impression the same camaraderie would have been shown to us had we attended more than once.

Everyone in the Crooked River Ranch area seemed friendly. Everyone waved to us from their vehicles, a lady from another trailer in the park had grown too many tomatoes and offered us some for free. We made salsa with them, and fresh tomato salsa is just delicious. Dave came over to us at least once a day and regaled us with stories and advice. He had led an interesting life, and we do envy his persistent happiness in everything he does. He told us the story of a meth head who went climbing down the gorge (which is a minute walk from the park) and got stuck there. So Dave (the owner) went down with a ladder to try and help him out, against the wishes of the police ("I don't listen well!") and they managed to get this idiot up after many hours of hard labour. But, you really should visit the park and get Dave and his wife to tell you the story - it's much better coming from them!

The next day we decided we were going to stay in this spot for a while, so we went into Bend to float down the Deschutes River. It was a lovely afternoon, and we brought beer with us (of course). But I was amazed that this activity was a) free and b) unsupervised. All you need is your own rubber ring (which we now have!) and the ability to block out the cold water stun which stays with you most of the way. There is a point where you get to a dam and a mini waterfall - here you have to dismount and walk around. This is why they couldn't do this unsupervised in England. Both Dave and I were tempted to hurtle down the waterfall despite all the signs saying "death" and "danger." If this had been England, you'd have found a bunch of drunken lager louts at the bottom of this little waterfall all scrabbling around trying to find the last beer.

Afterwards we took a walk around Bend, the major town through which the Deschutes flows. It's a lovely town, lots of taunting restaurants and restaurant smells everywhere. Cafes galore, bars aplenty, and a second bookshop that had Dave foaming at the mouth with its comic selection. We had intended to go back for an evening of drinking, but weren't in the mood for it when a convenient time rolled around. That's the great thing about this - we don't have to do anything we don't want!

The next day we decided to hike down to the river in the gorge that surrounded the RV site. David told us the way to get there, and told us to look out for the guy living in the cave just above the river. Well, of course we forgot his directions, but managed to feel our way to the crucial bits of the directions. It required going down an old sheep path and down a rancher's ladder. When Americans say "hike," I'm always dubious. A
hike can mean anything from a paved walk around a lake to an Everest style climb. This one was definitely more towards the untrodden kind. It was a little hair-raising at times, and there were points where my poor little legs didn't want to drop me down the precipice, but we got there. David had cleared a path to 2 beautiful waterfalls. We then went down and had our picnic lunch by the river. The beauty just around the campsite is spectacular, and we only had to hike 20 minutes to get up close to it.

We had a couple of lazy days in between these things, but I'm sure you don't want to hear about how we did the laundry, repainted the shelves in the fridge to take the rust off, or tidied up the pantry cupboard to make more space. But there's an idea for you. On a more interesting note, we visited the Painted Hills. This trip nearly cost us our sanity. The roads were gravel, and shook our RV all over the place. The fridge stopped working, the steering wheel got an almost vengeful squeak on it. But, the Painted Hills
were amazing. We
found a longer path to hike across the top of them. Of course, no one else was on it. Everyone else just 'hiked' up to the sign and then trotted back to their air-conditioned car. Unfortunately the drive home was a little fraught, and it really did seem like the steering wheel was having a little joke with us, one that it enjoyed so much that it actually got worse every time Dave complained about it. I was nearly having a breakdown trying not laugh, but Dave had not seen the funny side yet, and I don't blame him.

The next day we knew a storm was coming in, so we did more boring house type stuff and waited for the inevitable. I was looking forward to a storm - England just doesn't do them right. The clouds in the distance didn't look like they would disappoint, and when the wind whipped up in a matter of seconds, we had battened down the hatches. The storm was really impressive, somewhere else. It just teased us with wind and dark, swirling skies. We got a few heavily impregnated drops of rain and then blue filled the sky again. But watching David run across his park putting things away, still managing to stop and chat with various people along the way, made it worth it.

We have since left, celebrated my birthday (thank you to my family for my messages!) and have been in 3 different campsites, but this entry looks long enough already! If you are ever in the area on Central Oregon, stop in at River Rim RV Park. It has amazing views, it's quiet without feeling like a cemetery, and the owners are great people. They really made us feel at home, and David is the kind of guy who always has something interesting to talk about. While he does love to talk, it's nothing but a treat to listen to.