Thinking outside dog.
After Sarah woke up we pushed on and, taking our chances on some unmarked forest service roads, found a camp site just off the Metolius river right at sunset. There was only one other set of tire tracks that had driven over the snow patches recently so we were surprised to find a perfect campsite and a road clear of snow after the first 200 feet.
I made a fire with some wet wood. It got dark as we were gathering though so I didn’t even have the best wood, but I managed to coax it into staying lit.
As we were sitting out by the fire, Scherzo had a hell of a time relaxing. I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was watching us. Occasionally she’d growl back towards where the van was. After a while we realized she was probably cold, so we set her up in her little purple folding chair near the fire, put a blanket over her and she seemed happier. After an hour of that it was still really cold so we loaded into the van. We were at 3500 feet, the edge of the snow-line, and not sure how warm we’d be but we slept fine and the dog calmed right down inside the van.
Today we got up early. I jumped out of the van and searched around to see if there were any tracks around our van but only found dog tracks and our boot prints. We walked up the road a little way to find it ended in an actual campground equipped with an out house and fire wood. At the end of the campground was a trail that followed the river.
THE HIKE: From Sisters, OR head NW on Highway 20 about 6.5 miles. Turn right (North) on NF-11/Indian Ford Rd. Stay left at the first Y on Indian Ford Rd./NF-1120.
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About a half mile up the trail there was a waterfall on the opposite shore. It was the weirdest falls I’ve seen. It started half way down a steep bank. There was no stream, just the falls coming out of the hillside several feet above the river. The water was blue and gushing and made the place seem like there were secret worlds just under the ground and at any point they might break out into the daylight.
Still, I was feeling lackluster. I’d imagined I’d get an immense sense of freedom as soon as we were clear of Portland, that being out in the country and up in the mountains would make the world seem limitless again, as it had when I hitchhiked around the west before. At the state park I didn’t feel that at all, but I didn’t see why I would. The place was full of all the things that sapped the energy out of me in portland: the cement and fat tourists and motor-home retirees packed in at ten foot increments, eyeing us suspiciously as we passed by. But still, up here where I knew the closest people were at best miles off, I couldn’t shake the feeling that the world has been stripped of any wonder for me.
To me it was perfect. Cold and snow on the ground, no people in sight and the sound of the river. It looked like narnia with all the trees covered in snow. I had walked around enjoying the cold air and the dark of night last night, me and scherzo peed and played together.
I slept the whole night in big pink but wasn’t cold. It was all what I expected which is to say at least I wasn’t disappointed.
The trail was pretty even and the forest along the river, though sometimes steep, barely had any foliage between the trees. I could see far up the mountain and whenever the trail headed up hill I could look easily half a mile out before the big ponderosas obscured my view.
We rounded a bend a little way past the falls and came on a deer carcass. It looked like it had probably been killed in the Fall. It was covered in poop, and I vaguely remembered from some TV documentary that bears shit on their kills. Still, I wasn’t worried, it’s too early in the season for bears to be out and the kill looked so old.
The rest of the hike up was rather uneventful. The hike passed near a fish hatchery, so we ate some bread, cheese, and avocados at the end and turned back down the trail. On the way down we used some tuna to work on recall and tricks with the dog.
We’d just run out of tuna and were getting close to the carcass again when I saw something big and black running at a blur down the hillside. Scherzo was out of site on the trail ahead of us. I was sure the dog was being chased by a bear. Without thinking I ran up the trail, shouted her name, and dropped my pack in one movement. I got around the next bend and there she was, sitting. I didn’t hear whatever had been running down at us, so I leashed her and squatted low. Sarah came up with the back pack, laughing at me.
What I’d thought was a bear were just a couple of dear. But apparently it made an impression on Scherzo, who was spooked enough to have her hackles at full mast soon as she smelled the deer.
