We’re glad for that heat in the morning – although by the
end of today we will be glad for some cool.
But there is lots to cover before that!
Now we’re kind of in central Oregon, heading toward Bend for
the day. We take a long scenic drive to
get there. It is undoubtedly scenic but by
this point a little trying to those of us for whom scenic is just getting a
little old.
Actually there are some remarkable formations along this
drive. Ginormous black piles of rock roll
along next to the road, looking like coal or the dig-out from some massive
construction project, but which are in fact, lava flows. They go on for miles, these multi-story high
piles behind a thin screen of trees next to the roads, unworldly and even a bit
sinister. (We've been listening to more
Welcome to Nightvale so everything has an overlay of the creepy now).
The closer to Bend we get, the smokier it gets. Good thing we have an indoor activity planned
for the morning. Over my
soon-to-be-proved-completely-wrong objection, Bill has identified the High
Desert Museum as a place worthy of a visit.
Great, I think, dusty old dioramas with fakely-rattling snakes and a few
sad creatures in little cages and some pot shards. Of course, this turns out to be an excellent
museum. There are fine exhibits on the
coming of immigrants to the Northwest, the Northwest in WWII[1],
and an outstanding introduction to the native population. This last one is presented not through the
usual native-americans-in-museum interpretations of art, or destruction, or
resistance, but rather with the theme of cultural resilience. Izzy’s and my favorite thing about this
museum are the animals! There are the
usual spiders (ew) and snakes and bats, but then there is a whole separate
building filled with raptors of all kinds – eagles and hawks and owls – all of
which are here because they were found damaged and could not survive in the
wild. The museum even does a lot of
educating about wildlife fostering and what to do if you come upon an injured
animal in the wild. There is an elegant
river otter habitat but the one inhabitant on view is more interested in
grooming than in frolicking when we see him so we move on. As usual, Bill made a good call and we’re all
– me included – glad we spent some time at this well-endowed and
using-its-money-wisely museum.
It is hot here in Bend!
Lunch overlooking the Deschutes river involves local pork bbq and local
beer, with a sprinkling of ash.
Bend is a town that is seriously dedicated to the pursuit of
outdoor fun. Bachelor Mountain ski area
is just outside of the city, there is hiking and climbing galore, fishing, and
rafting and kayaking. Floating down the
Deschutes on a big ol’ inner tube is a great way to conclude a hot afternoon,
and there are plenty of vendors ready to rent you a tube or a kayak. The town is so into water sports that they
made part of the Deschutes River into a kind of public whitewater park by
building some rapids lanes under a bridge.
There is the easy side, down which you can go in an inner tube, a middle
lane which is apparently class five and for experts only, and then the third
lane is prohibited for humans – the natural environment just takes its course
there. They control the water flow here
by means of underwater air bladders, so it never gets too crazy, and there are
even shuttle busses running in a loop all day from Riverbend Park where you get
into your tube, to the rapids, and then another mile or two downriver, so you
can get back to where you started.
The whole thing is designed for fun, and that is what we
had, even with one minor disaster. You
start by floating desultorily along the river, with other people and some birds,
and the water feels lovely and cool because it is coming down from the
mountains and did I mention it is hot today?
Also, the smoke is finally clearing.
You have to paddle sometimes if the current takes you into the reeds at
the shore, and these tubes are pretty big (they are actually designed for this,
with nets across the bottom and very solid-feeling) so if you are short you
kind of have to splay yourself over the top of the tube to any pull through the
water with your arms. (Unlike rowing,
tubing is a pull sport.) It is neither
graceful nor particularly comfortable for the shorter members of our party, so
we link tubes and float like a party. As
you near the “rapids,” you more or less line up and then have to shove yourself
into the chute, and away you go with a very big splash of water that seems to
have gotten a lot colder when it douses you!
If you are little, you might find yourself pulled into the lee of the
pools, and have to pull and paddle to get to the next descent, but everyone is
doing it and it is splashy and exhilarating.
So much for keeping your shoes or shirt dry. Or for keeping your glasses on, as the most
experienced river rat among us (Peter, who has canoed the ‘Scoggin rapids just
a few weeks previously) finds himself upended and spectacle-less at one of the
bumps. At the bottom of the chute, we
consider our options, and while Peter and Bill think about going back to the
car to find a 24-hour optometrist, the pull of the river (and the low
likelihood of actually replacing the glasses) proves too much, and they follow
me and sodden-but-still-the-cutest-member-of-our-party Izzy down the last
stretch. The current moves faster here,
but the water is still and the banks lined with funky houses, all of which have
lovely light-festooned decks with comfy seats and kayaks and paddleboards
pulled high. Clearly these people spend
a lot of time on the river, and as it is cocktail time, they are starting to
come out and watch the scene. As we
float serenely down this stretch, someone is playing the Rolling Stones “You Can’t
Always Get What You Want” and it feels like we are in a movie. We agree that Bend would be an eminently
acceptable West Coast substitute for Cambridge, Mass., should it come to
that.
It is determined that replacing the glasses within the next
24 hours is impossible, unless we drive back to Portland, and no one really
wants to do that. So Peter will make do
for the rest of the trip wearing Bill’s sunglasses, and no glasses, and
generally being an incredibly good sport about it all.
The marionberry cobbler here at the Odell Lake Lodge is
pretty awesome, a large goblet with mostly stewed berries and just a little
cobble. We scarf down two a night.
[1] Including quite a large piece on the plutonium
production facility at Hanford, Washington, which features so terrifyingly in this article,
which you should read about the current state of affairs at the Department of
Energy.
