Day 16: Back in Oregon!

Morning came, I packed up the bike and ate too many waffles. Today I have nothing to stop and look at, the goal is to ride west on I-80 to Nevada, north to Idaho on 93, then taking the backroads into Oregon and finishing at Lake Owyhee State park in the eastern part of the state.

Unfortunately I am hitting the Friday morning commute between Provo and Salt Lake City. At the least I can see the mountains now – tall and craggy Wasatch range to the east, some brown things to the west, and a visibly smog-choked valley to the north. Yuck. Visibility, due to this smog, is about 5 miles. I’m glad I’m not going through SLC, and veer west on I-80. As I pass the southern rim of the Great Salt Lake I can smell the salt, and it’s not pleasant. There’s also an even less pleasant smell of rotting things. Ick. I’m not impressed. As the interstate heads due west, straight as an arrow for what seems like 50 miles, I pass dried tan salt lakebeds and one some that are pure white. When I finally reach Wendover there are signs for the Bonneville Salt Flats – now I know where they are.

Heading into Nevada the scenery improves somewhat, with some grand snowcapped Ruby mountains to the south. However, road construction is in full swing and that means I sit in stop’n’go traffic for many miles. Hwy 93 at Wells could not come soon enough. There I got a refill of my water bottles and fuel and headed north.

93 is more interesting. It is a fast road, going through rolling desert hills with light traffic. Before it crosses into Idaho there’s a nice rest stop along Salmon Falls Creek and I enjoy a snack there. Getting closer to Rogerson, I turn off 93 and take 3-creek-road west. After 40 miles the GPS tells me to turn right and take a little dirt road up towards Brunaeu. Yeah, right. The signs says the shortest distance on that road is 30 miles, no thank you. I turn around and ride the 40 miles back to the interstate very quickly, in 25 minutes. I’m somewhat peeved, that added an hour to my day and I’m eager to get home. Plus, it’s Friday, and campgrounds fill fast so I need to get there early.

In Twn Falls I give in my hunger and stop for lunch at Idaho Joe’s, then continue on the boring interstate 84 to make up for lost time. Once again I would like to underscore how much I hate interstates, and this is no exception. The interstates usually are routed along the easiest and straightest routes and that’s where the bad winds are. I fight the wind for 130 miles, cursing my decision to do this on a motorcycle. My neck is aching from fighting the wind and my butt feels like it is sitting on needles. I’m not happy.

Getting through Boise in the afternoon rush was no fun either.

Near Nampa I got off the interstate and followed the GPS directions to past Lovell Lake to another dirt road with a sign indicating 24 miles to Lake Owyhee State Park. Dejectedly I head north to Highway 20, considering riding the rest of the way home tonight. It’s 6pm and I have 490 miles to get home. Then I pass another sign pointing down a dirt road indicating another 13 miles of dirt to the park. Hm. Nah. I’m miserable, I’m not going to make myself even more miserable. There has to be another campground here someplace. Back towards Hwy 20, After a few miles there’s another sign for the state park, and it’s paved (so far) so take that. I’m riding through irrigated farm fields and it’s surprisingly green here, considering that eastern Oregon is a drab brown.

The road starts dropping in elevation and enters a canyon – the Owyhee canyon, no doubt – and along the Owyhee river there are quite a few fisherman. The scenery improves dramatically as I approach the Owyhee dam. There’s a picnic area by the dam and more fisherman. Five miles later I reach the first campground – McCormack – but it’s full. No surprise … a fellow camper indicates there’s another one about a mile up the river. He points it out, and we can see it from here. It looks like only one camper is there, but it’s not lush and green like this one. I ride down there and find there are orange cones near the entrance of the park. There is no-one else here but the RV. Strange, the boat launch nearby is half-full. No obvious signs that the campground is closed. This is strange. Pulling up to the closest tent site, I dismount and jump nearly a foot into the air when a brown snake with the telltale diamond pattern on it’s back slithers from a rock near the picnic table into the weeds. Uhoh. Walking back to the bulletin board, there’s a sign for a cougar sighting in September… aha, “beware of rattlesnakes”. Screw this, I’m not camping with rattlesnakes. Not in a tent.

Back over the dam and down to the picnic area I saw earlier I go. I saw a sign for a visitor’s center on the way up, and figured I’d ask there if there’s somewhere else to camp. There is BLM land all around us, and I camp on that, but it sure is nice to have a picnic table to sit at. Making breakfast in the dirt isn’t any fun. I could have survived if I had driven the Audi, then I would at least have a camp-chair.

The visitor’s center was closed but the sign said camping in the picnic area was allowed! Woohoo! We’re in business! And it looks like a nice place too – big trees tables, grass, firegrates, even firewood. The sign indicated we should register at the visitor’s center and donate anything we’d like. I started the process of unpacking the bike and setting up camp. After dinner (can of soup) and typing on the PDA until the mosquitoes force me to quit, I brush my teeth and hit the restroom … on the way back I see I have neighbors.

I head over and say hello to Dan and Bev. They’re from nearby Vale, he’s a fisherman and she’s mountainbiking. He looks like he’s in his 30’s and worked for the Air Force in southern California training Iranian and German pilots to drop bombs (conventional and nuclear) and strafing. Which makes me wonder … aren't we trying to prevent Iran from acquiring a nuclear arsenal? Iran being one of the three members of the Axis of Evil, hopefully they haven’t shared it with that little gargoyle in North Korea. Bev looks 40’ish but she is a grandmother who moved to Oregon from Kansas four months ago. She loves the scenery and weather even though she hasn’t been west of the Cascades yet. We talked about the rattlesnakes (she nearly rode over a couple) and they share a beer with me. We start a campfire, and we notice there’s a chattering in the tree above us, and a big bird swoops into it. We suspect it might be a winged monkey. It sure sounds likes it. Using our flashlights we spot two 5-inch tall owls coo-ing back and forth. The big bird we can’t see must have been the mother. Neat. I’d get a photo but have no idea how to pull off nighttime photography. Use your imagination.

There’s also a chocolate lab at the site – I assumed it was Dan and Bev’s, they assumed it was mine. Ok. Must be with the house out back. Anyway, he’s really friendly but irritating. He wants keep trying licking me, the bug spray must taste sweet to him. I hope he doesn’t think of me as a marinating chunk of meat. Every so often I can hear him lick his chops.

It’s late and I head off to sleep. I manage to wash my hands near the water spout. The dog follows me, and I have to fend off his licking before I get into my tent. Once he pawed the tent wall, I yelled at him, he whimpered. Too bad. I suspect he sat out there a while; I heard him licking his chops right outside the tent a couple times during the night.

After a couple hours I wake to hear him barking and running around outside, and Beverly promptly shuts him up by telling him to “SHUT UP!”. Ah … sleep …