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August 9, 1999 |
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We awoke to another crisp clear morning. Wondering about the conditions on McKenzie Pass, we meet at the town of Sisters, where we find the Visitor Center, chocked full of information. Brian, eager to attack the mountain, left, while I lingered in this almost-too-touristy, but still adorable community. I visited the studio/shops of the many artists that live here, including Sisters Glassblowers, where the owner refused payment for my purchase of glass tiles after learning about our ride. As expected, I became so immersed with the artwork and the book store that, strapped for time, I chose to forgo filling the gas tanks before booking it up the mountain to meet Brian at the summit. I was to be there no later than noon and knew it would be difficult to make up time on the winding mountain pass road. As I drove, the road narrowed and the terrain became more rugged. Black rocks, hardened lava flow, surrounded me at the peak. With 4 minutes to spare, I reached the apex. Brian greeted me, elated to have conquered the last remaining major climb of the trip. We recreated his ascend to the summit for my video camera and then toured this spectacular place. By now, he was famished so we attempted to heat lunch, but with only a quarter of a tank of gas, the generator shut off. Oops. While I was never in fear of running out of gas, per se, I did learn a lesson! At the peak, a nice family commented about Clydes' beauty, as he sat perched in front of the screened door attempting to escape. I offer him as a living trinket of their journey to McKenzie Pass. Brian rescinds my offer, saying he's become too attached. When did this love connection occur? The descent down the mountain was punctuated with beautiful vistas and the most spectacular waterfall I'd ever seen. On the trail to the waterfall, I met part of a family from Iowa, the father and son who lagged behind the mom, 4 siblings and grandparents. We leisurely strolled the path and reunited at the falls. As I enjoyed the magnificent scenery, I longed for Brian's company and sent strong thoughts for him to stop at the van and meet me on the path. We've become much more attuned to one another and rely on instincts to help us. It worked! Arriving at the van, Brian was engaged in conversation with a mental health professional from Eugene, Mary. A very generous person, she offered to help set interviews with the top guns in the field or with the media. The lengthy discussion derailed his plans to walk from the end of the one-way loop trail to meet me. Together, we walked the trail and shared a tender moment at the waterfall. Unsure where we'd make our home for the night (the choice became more plentiful as we headed closer to the coast), we consulted our 10-year old camping guide and discovered a place with 2 pools, river frontage and a hot springs - . a mile from off the path, but worth the expenditure of Brian's energy. Determining the great campsites from the awful was getting easier. By reading the descriptions we now seek out rivers, streams and springs as they offer the most tranquil setting . This, from a girl now content to sleep in the parking lot of a Wal-Mart. The Belknap Lodge and Campgrounds appeared pretty enough so Brian selected a nice spot adjacent to the river. As I entered the registration area, I was in awe of the contemporary tile flooring, leather couches and exposed beams in the ceiling. This place was really elegant! The attendant enlightened us by providing directions to the secret garden', the formal garden and the wild flower garden. We started to get the inkling how amazing this place was and discovered it's majesty as we strolled through the grounds. Small, lit lanterns adorned the path to the many garden areas, a pagoda style building hid the remains of an ancient generator. Paths led every which way, what direction do we explore first? Someone loved this place. Lavishly appointed, the secret, walled garden alone must have cost millions of dollars, with the ornate cement pillars and curved stone walls. I theorized it was the wife of some super-rich mogul, unconcerned about break-even and other seemingly mundane details. Consciously, I had to snap myself out of calculating the capital involved with creating such a haven and slip back into my role of appreciative guest. And that I was. We sauntered past the source of the hot springs - a thermometer read 175 degrees. By the time it was piped into the pool, it was a comfortable 89 degrees in the shallow end and about 95 in the deep. We soaked in the springs while the coals on the grill readied themselves for the steak and potato dinner I planned. Savoring both the meal and the surroundings, Brian asked if the scenery was getting more spectacular or if we just appreciated it more, as the trip neared completion. Probably a little of both, I surmised. Preparing for slumber, I check around the RV - .lights off, curtains drawn, cellular phones charging, cat in and accounted for. Clyde has been extremely lethargic, so I closely examine his eyes. He tries to nip my nose and scampers away. Unhappy with our adversarial relationship, I make nice by blinking my eyes repeatedly until the cat blinks back, a show of affection, I'm told. Truce. I can now comfortably go to sleep. Settling in, I pulled out a new book about a man's summer of solo canoeing down the Columbia River. As our adventure ends, I become hungry for more. Evidently Clyde becomes hungry for something, too, and snuggles up to me, within inches of my face and begins to do the "paw-paw" thing, like a young kitten to it's mother. He's forgiven me for castration, plucking him from the wild, confining him to the RV, and offering him as a gift. We all slip to sleep, as the river gushes,
creating a lulling swoosh. |
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