Oregon’s high east-central plateau is dominated by numerous forested mountain ranges rising above fertile rangeland, with enough vistas wide enough that you can’t quite wrap your arms around them.

It’s a peaceful place, and in August, Brad and I set off for the Strawberry Mountain Wilderness. Our hiking compass was set to climb and summit 9,038-foot Strawberry Mountain itself, a once-active volcano. It got its name from Nathan Wills Fisk, a homesteader in the area, because of the many wild strawberry plants that can be found in the area.

We drove about 4 hours from Portland to our secret camping spot nearby, and set up in a campground that we had absolutely to ourselves. The quiet of the woods was occasionally broken by the rattling of a woodpecker on a nearby tree or a raspy chirrup from a hawk high up in the thermal winds. The next morning, we packed up our gear, loaded extra water, and headed to the trailhead.

Starting near the 7,000 foot level definitely helped make this hike not as arduous as it may seem. The trailhead starts on an old road that is fairly level and flat. Not very far down the path, the dogs, Brad and I were quickly startled by a big buck deer bounding through the undergrowth as it bolted away from its breakfast foraging. A little later down the trail, we ran into some other hikers. A man and his son from the Portland area were scouting the area for the hunting season, and had their binoculars trained on a ridgeline not too far away. We stopped and asked what they were looking at, and they pointed out a tiny white dot. It was a mountain goat! Somehow, on an impossible angle, the animal nimbly tip-toed across cliff faces that left me dizzy, but it was pretty cool to watch. The duo weren’t actually looking to hunt the goats (illegal) but rather looking for deer. My thoughts turned to the buck that we had just seen; had he met any of bow hunters currently out, he might not have been so lucky.

Right at this point, the trail turned south and quickly narrowed down to about 1-2 feet wide, with a couple of steep drop-offs right off the trail in a number of places. About 15-20 years ago, a wildfire had swept through the area, and while the area is recovering, the vegetation is still a little thin, punctuated with dead, blackened snags, lending a surreal feeling to the hike. Interestingly, as we followed just below the shoulder line of the ridge, the views far below were pretty amazing. Small, lush meadows beckoned, and I could imagine deer and other animals thriving in such a rich environment.

I heard twittering overhead, and stopped to watch a large group of mountain bluebirds flitting from tree to tree. Their calls are very muted and cheery; sweet, almost. After a few minutes of observation, we continued on, and started a number of switchbacks up to the base of Strawberry Mountain itself. It loomed far above us, and my palms began to sweat. This, I thought, is gonna be a tough hike!

We came around a corner and found ourselves traversing a shale trail. Shale is a type of loose rock, usually in large piles as it breaks off a larger source- such as a cliff face. And that was exactly what we were crossing. High above, cliffs with big rocks towered over us, and I silently issued a request to the forces that be that nothing decided to come tumbling down.

The path was so rocky that the trailblazers before us had actually built some rock cairns to mark the way, although enough boots had passed this way, a distinguishable line could be seen. At this point, despite the cool August morning, the sun’s rays began to warm things up a bit, helped by the reflection from the rocks.

Up we went, and found ourselves in a brief flat spot where some other trails joined ours, and we stopped to enjoy a view from a forest of tortured junipers and bristlecone pine trees edged by brilliant blue lupine flowers. I glanced up. The trail went up from that point another 45-50 degrees. Not quite climbing on your hands and knees, but it was steep…

The final summit assault had begun. We climbed up and zig-zagged across the rocky face. We were high above the tree line yet somehow, flowers managed to entrench themselves into the seemingly impenetrable stone.

Winds up here have gotten up to legendary speeds. Apparently, there was, at one point, a lookout up here, but it was eventually abandoned. At one point, a storm blew the entire structure off the top of the mountain. All that remains are some cables littered around and some errant nails.

Brad made the summit first, and whooped when he did. I slowly trudged the final stretch, stopped, took a breath, and then looked at the amazing view.

For 360 degrees, we could see mountain range after mountain range. Far to the south, we could see 9,700-foot Steens Mountain, 150 miles away. It was a stunning view!

Sitting down, we ate some lunch, enjoying the expansive vistas. I did notice a pile of rocks nearby and something stuck in them, so I went to investigate. A number of glass jars held small notes and pens. People who had made it to the top had written little notes about their adventures. I added one myself – this was Brad’s and my second wedding anniversary- and it was hard to top this at 7,038 feet high!

While we were up at the top, a few more people showed up. A father-son hiking team had actually done a much tougher round-trip hike that started farther below our trail head. They shared some tips on additional spots that they had seen along the way. As we headed down, a friendly couple on their way up to the summit and we chatted. It turned out that he was a cattle rancher in Prairie City, and it was really great to be able to talk to a local. From our vantage point, he pointed out his ranch far below with a great deal of pride. We wished them well and continued our way back down the mountain.

By the time we got to the car, my creaky knees were screaming. I was beat, but this was an awesome hike and was the perfect way to enjoy yet another Oregon favorite vacation spot.

Something about this entire event and how it was so carefully and tastefully integrated into the living being that is the Sisters community was inspiring. It felt real. It felt natural. And it felt Oregonian. And embracing a balance between what lies in the great outdoors and what Oregonians have worked hard to create is a great example that makes this state a very special place to be indeed.

I boarded one of these boats a few weeks ago… it’s one of my favorite Southern Oregon things to do, and every time I get to this area of Oregon, I always book a trip.

Starting in the heart of downtown Grants Pass, we wound our way down an easy ramp to the water’s edge, where we boarded for our exciting ride. The water was moving at a pretty good clip, so I knew that navigating this current would require a lot of power. No worries! With a low rumble, the boat started and the engines roared to life. Ooooh, the power! I smiled and clamping my hat on, we were off.

The sun shined down and the fresh cool air of the river swept over us as we swooped our way down the river. The guide/driver expertly navigated the river, pointing out historic and natural features of our ride with aplomb and an almost encyclopedic knowledge. He also playfully carved some arcs on the river, with a few resulting waves splashing down on the delighted kids who had plunked themselves up in the front of the boat to get in the middle of the action.

Residents living along the river closer to town waved to us as we passed, and still others gave us smiles as they were fishing along the banks or on drift boats along the way. Our guide respectfully slowed down to not ‘wake’ those boats or the swimmers near some of the parks scattered along the shoreline.

Rumbling on, we slowed down so the driver could point out wildlife including some osprey hovering overhead. The scenery continued to get even more spectacular, especially when we entered the narrow chasm known as Hellgate Canyon. Toothy rock walls surrounded us and I could feel the energy of the river rise as it was channeled through such a narrow space. As it was pointed out, this particular section of the river was featured in the movie “River Wild” was filmed with Kevin Bacon, as was parts of “Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid.” The light filtering into the canyon never fails to take my breath away, and is iconic in my mind to the beauty of Southern Oregon.

The thrum of the engines, wind in our hair and the warm sunshine was exhilarating. But the best was yet to come. Dinnertime took place at the OK Corral, which is owned by the jetboat company. Passengers disembark onto a dock and can either walk up the short hill or take a ride on a tractor wagon that shuttles everyone up to the corral. I decided to stretch my legs and was up at the lodge within a couple of minutes. There, a delightful spread of home cooking tempted our palates. Surprisingly, despite the fact that we hadn’t exactly been exerting ourselves on this ride, I was ravenous and enjoyed the barbeque favorites on the menu.

But one of the special treats of this place was discovered when I got up and spied a group of deer fearlessly walking up to one side of the outdoor seating area. Apparently, they knew it was dinner time too, and weren’t disappointed when some of the kids started tossing crumbs out. It was great seeing these graceful creatures up close.

But dinner was over, and the sun was starting to get low, so it was time to go. We piled back onto the boat, and the pilot driver wended his way up the river back towards town. Even within the span of a few hours, the light had again changed and the river looked entirely different, and there were new animals and things to see on the way back. This just proves that the ever-changing landscape is something to experience and revere, and this jetboat ride was just the perfect way to get to experience a sliver of it for myself.

Four hundred miles southeast of Portland, remote Hart Mountain National Antelope Refuge is the only refuge of its kind in the United States. The 278,000-acre refuge is completely free of domestic livestock and was originally created to develop a safe haven for remnant herds of pronghorn antelope.

Getting there requires a commitment, but the rewards are many. Located outside the southeastern Oregon town of Lakeview (which is 65 miles away), Hart Mountain is best (and most impressively) accessed by driving south of Burns on Hwy 205, passing through Frenchglen, and continuing south about ten miles to the turn-off towards Hart Mountain, which is a clearly marked right turn – you can’t miss it!

Here, our adventure began right where the pavement ends. A 52-mile bumpy but very scenic road takes you through past isolated ranches, marshy pastures, desert landscape, and limitless big sky before starting the climb towards Hart Mountain. Keep an eye out for antelope- they didn’t name make this area an antelope refuge without a reason!

Finding antelope might be harder than you think… the tawny coloring of their body blends in very well with the muted desert background. A good way to spot the animals is to look for their white rear ends- which provide some contrast. I spotted several herds, and at one point, we had stopped to observe a herd to our right when on a hillside not far away to our left, I spotted movement. I couldn’t believe it when a pronghorn buck came down the hillside, crossed literally 10 feet in front of our car, and bounded its way towards the herd! Amazing!!

In addition to being an antelope preserve, the refuge serves as home to more than 300 species of wildlife. Other species include California bighorn sheep, mule deer, sage grouse, and redband trout, and we saw a lot of meadowlarks, red-winged blackbirds and jackrabbits, who scurried along the roadside to disappear under sagebrush right at the last minute as we passed by.

After this 52-mile trek, we reached the refuge headquarters, an oasis in the desert nestled about a quarter of the way below the top of the mountain. Here, we filled up on water and took care of restroom necessities. Visitors need to be aware that there is no store and staff don’t sell fuel or food (nor do they providing towing services), so it is very important to have plenty of fuel, food and water and a good high-clearance vehicle (with operable spare tire) before attempting this trip!

At the headquarters, there’s a well-signed junction, and we followed the road straight towards the Hot Springs, just four miles ahead. This was another delightful adventure! One of Oregon’s best-kept secrets, Antelope Hot Springs, is cradled in a mountainous fold on Hart Mountain, and features a large hot spring outdoors. Located in a quiet grove of aspens, the hot springs are somewhat developed with a concrete wall surrounding it, (which blocked the wind) and pool-like ladder climbing down into the water. The quick dip was very invigorating, and we didn’t see a single soul the entire time! Before leaving, we took a quick look at the campground which was pleasantly shaded, but decided to keep going to explore more of the refuge.

Returning back to the Headquarters then veering west, we continued in a sea of sagebrush, mesas and miles of scenery. Passing several watering holes, we spotted a few more antelope as we seemingly kept climbing. Hart Mountain is actually a giant fault block mountain/ridge line, and when we reached the edge at the Campbell Lake Overlook, our jaws dropped just like the cliffs in front of us. The view was incredible and just seemed so… Pleistocene. Laid out across the horizon and below us was a very primitive and primal scene- this land has been largely untouched since the history of man began.

Far below lay the Warner Wetlands, remnants themselves of a vast inland ocean, and collection point for the area’s watershed. All of the moisture captured by the mountain range above gets channeled to the marshes below.

The road crept its way along the edge of the ridge line, carefully wending its way down to the valley floor below. Once we got down to the bottom, lake after lake in this otherwise dry and arid desert was alive with abundant wildlife. It was amazing! I saw more pelicans (white) than I had ever seen before.

We stopped the car and just watched these birds gaggling fish down their massive gullets by the beakfull. Boy, I thought, this must be heaven for them with such plentiful food! Tree and cliff swallows swooped and turned with acrobatic efficiency in so many maneuvers that made me dizzy. Their prey: mosquitoes and other insects, which were in great numbers as well, as I realized when I started scratching my arms.

The sense of space, the wildlife, and getting a sense of a wild, untouched land really had a big impact on me from this visit. Everyone thinks of Oregon as rainy, but there are 2/3 of the state that are actually very arid/desert-like. Somewhere I read that the corner of Southeastern Oregon near where I was standing is one of the least populated places on earth, per square mile. With the exception of unincorporated Plush, the closest town is Lakeview (population: 2,720) which is 65 miles away. Knowing that still-wild places on earth like Hart Mountain are being protected and preserved is important part of Oregon’s heritage and uniqueness.

Long before the settlers arrived in Oregon (even prior to when Spanish voyagers set foot along the Oregon coast), the area which is now known as Oregon has been home to many different Native American tribes for more than 10,000 years.

Each tribe has a unique perspective on their history on what is now Oregon, but to mark the 150th birthday of the state, I thought it would be important to commemorate the original Oregonians who first welcomed explorers Meriwether Lewis and William Clark to the area. It was because of the kindness of the Cayuse, Walla Walla, and Umatilla people that Lewis and Clark survived the harsh winter of 1805-06, and were able to make it to the Pacific Ocean to complete their exploration of what was to become Oregon. This was a pivotal moment in the history of both Native American and Western cultures, and continues to shape the state to this day.

Located on the Umatilla Reservation outside of Pendleton, Tamástslikt Cultural Institute is definitely NOT a museum filled with static exhibits. It is a facility that is a central celebration of the vibrant and very much alive culture of the Cayuse, Walla Walla, and Umatilla nations. The dynamic, interactive, and ever-changing displays provide insights inside pre-Western contact culture, how members of the tribes live today in the present, and what their hopes are for who they will be in the future.

As I walked through the Institute, I learned a lot about how the tribes in the area lived off of the land and continue to do so today as part of their heritage. What appeared to my eyes (just beyond the windows, out to the rolling hills of Eastern Oregon) to be a sterile, dry landscape is in fact a very giving and productive land to the Native Americans, and opened my mind to what it means to be sustainable. In fact, the Confederated Tribes of the Umatilla have led efforts in establishing salmon recovery efforts for the Columbia River and several of its tributaries in Eastern Oregon, ensuring the sustainability of future fish runs. The salmon, of course, is central to many Northwest people’s diets and culture, and through conservation efforts such as these, will be guaranteed to be around for future generations.

Tamástslikt also offers up an amazing art gallery with rotating Native artists which provides a showcase of the creative expression of local artists. From paintings to jewelry to multi-media art, Native culture is celebrated in various art forms, with exhibitions changing regularly. I’ve been to Tamástslikt a number of times, and at each visit, have found the art gallery to be one of the many highlights. Plan on spending at least an hour in this section alone!

Additionally, the Tamástslikt gift shop has many artistic items for sale, and can mean some great browsing. Many pieces are made by local craftspeople, and the staff behind the register know many as neighbors. You’ll also find the world-famous Pendleton blankets for sale, which are cherished gifts and still used for “give-aways” customary for tribal ceremonies. Limited edition Cayuse design blankets are sold only at the Museum Store at Tamástslikt, and can be a unique gift for someone special, or even for yourself.

The Tamástslikt Cultural Institute is just but one of several Native American cultural centers in the state. Remembering the contributions that the first Oregonians have made and continue to make is part of our Oregon 150 commemoration.

Towering 10,497 feet (3,199 m) and second in size to Mt. Hood, lofty Mt. Jefferson adds to the spectacular northern Cascades with its jagged ridge line and clinging glaciers. I’ve camped and backpacked along the outer flanks of this mountain, but never gotten within an arm’s length of this peak before. So when Brad, my husband, suggested a backpacking trip into Jefferson Park, I was game. From the description in William Sullivan’s “100 Hikes in Oregon’s Central Cascades” book, it sounded just like right opportunity to get to know Mt. Jefferson a little better.

With temperatures in the Portland area hovering around a withering 100 degrees, we got off to an early start, hoping to beat the heat. But as we took Highway 22 around Detroit Lake, the temperatures started climbing at an alarming rate. By the time we turned off on Whitewater Road to venture 7.5 miles to the Whitewater Trail parking lot, it was sweltering. We had loaded up on Gatorade and watered the dogs, so we were about as hydrated as we could be. Off we went!

In what would otherwise in cooler conditions be an easy looping ramble for 5.1 miles up to Jefferson Park, the trek ended up being a little hotter than we planned. Fortunately, Whitewater Creek afforded a great liquid break about 4.0 miles into the hike, and we gratefully plunged ourselves into the icy waters to cool off and refresh (dogs and humans). Then, it was another 1.1 miles to our camping destination.

As we looped around from one ridge line to another through a saddle pass, Mt. Jefferson came into view, dominating the entire eastern horizon. No other ridges stood in our way, so it was almost an ethereal feeling to have such a huge mountain above and open air below. We crept our way through some open rock debris fields, the heat shimmering across the boulders. Yikes, it was hot!

But many wildflowers stood undeterred by such oven-like temperatures. Amazing lilies, somehow surviving the hot temperatures, permeated the air with a heavenly scent. (Later, I wasn’t able to identify this plant on my own, and availed myself upon the resources of the Native Plant Society of Oregon who identified the lily as lilium washingtonianum, whose mountainous range, ironically, doesn’t quite make it to Washington state!)

As we climbed a little higher, we finally dropped onto a plateau. We had arrived in Jefferson Park! We crossed a small bridge over a stream fueled by snow melt, gave the dogs some water, and started up our final hill which hugged the mountain stream, gurgling merrily to our right.

Once we reached the top, we were greeted with a crisscross of trails heading left and straight, leading to a series of at least five to ten hidden lakes. Citing heat exhaustion, we opted for the easiest and closest spot. This area is considered one of the gems of the Detroit Ranger District, and strict regulations govern camping activities up in this area. No fires were permitted, which is why we brought our little backpacking stove, and we could only camp in designated spots to reduce the damage to the fragile alpine meadow caused by trampling boots.

I rested while Brad scouted the area, and he found a nice spot on a hill top overlooking Scout Lake. At that point, we were parched from thirst and ravenous from our hike. You’d be surprised at how many calories you burn hiking 5.1 miles with 50 pounds on your back in 100 degree heat. It made me appreciate what the soldiers in Iraq have to deal with every day, as a salute to these servicemen and women!

Brad went to work setting up shelter (man make shelter!) and I started on heating up a freeze-dried dinner. It felt a little silly heating up food on such a hot day, but at that point, any kind of food was starting to sound good! Too bad I was too worn out from the hike to manage a pathetic stumble down the hill to the water’s edge. A swim sounded delightful, but I didn’t want to pollute the water with the abundant sunscreen and insect repellent I had liberally applied to myself.

Speaking of which, before long, the local residents had also found us and decided to join us for a snack. The snack, being, of course, us. The mosquitoes must have radioed their cousins from miles away, because over the course of probably 20 minutes, we were swarmed. Thankfully, I had brought a mosquito tent and put the dogs under its protective enclosure. I’m not sure, but I could swear that both Buddy and Timmy looked completely grateful to get away from those biting menaces!

After dinner, Brad joined the dogs in the mosquito tent and I went inside our sleeping tent for a respite from the hordes of whining insects outside. Quietly, we laid there, and each watched thunderheads form right above us. Our location was perched right at the point in the Cascade Mountains that the heat and moisture came together to form the thunderstorms that would roll down into Eastern Oregon. I got one picture of a tiny cloud that wasn’t big in circumference, but ballooned thousands of feet upwards. It was the smallest thunderstorm I’d ever seen. We also watched the sun set over Mt. Jefferson, and took in the silence and peace of such a magnificent place. Risking more bites, I dashed outside the tent to grab some sunset photos of the mountain before darkness set in.

With temperatures forecast to be in the high 90’s, we decided to head back out the following day. The mosquitoes hadn’t really disappeared, so that meant mobility was limited. The only activities we could really engage in were swimming then making a mad dash to the mosquito tent to dry off. That morning, I was better prepared to take photos on the way back, and got some good pictures of sunrise over Jefferson Park. The views were breathtaking, as were the wildflowers.

At one point, we did hear a couple of large ‘booms’ and what sounded like thunder, but they were actually rocks falling off of Mt. Jefferson, probably loosened by the melting glaciers and snow. The rumble lasted for about 15 seconds and then you could hear the boulder cracking its way down the steep slopes. Fortunately, there was a long drop below us, so we weren’t in any danger of getting crushed!

On our way back down in the morning, Brad and the dogs were ahead on the trail, when I happened to glance across the melt water creek and saw something moving. I peered across, and I could tell that the animal was in the weasel family by the shape. It was on the far bank of the creek, making its way down. But the dogs and Brad walking down the trail startled it, and it made its way back up the bank, moving back and forth agitatedly. I stopped, and let the other get ahead. Something told me that the animal was going to cross the creek, so I crept forward silently, camera at the ready.

Sure enough, within a few seconds, the creature bounded in the thicket of trees not 20 feet away from me. Slow reflexes and an even slower camera shutter prevented me from getting a good shot of what turned out to be a fisher, a relative of the weasel family. It was very exciting, and definitely worth the additional mosquito bites I suffered from standing there!

The final trek back was fairly uneventful, albeit hot. We ran into a Forest Service Ranger who was heading up for a three night-stint to patrol the area… armed with natural insect repellent. We wished her luck. Also along the trail, we passed a National Forest Service trail crew who were doing maintenance on the path. Just as a side note here, I absolutely have to give a shout-out to these amazing people who keep our trails in such awesome shape. They had even cut through a giant tree which had fallen over the path sometime this winter… on the way up, Brad and I had to lay ourselves the top of it in order to boost ourselves over. What a pain. But on the way back down, we walked right through the gap that they had cut. Now that was hard work!! So, thanks, guys and gals!!

Needless to say, by the time we arrived at the car, everyone was parched and the first order of business was getting water into us to cool down. Thirst slaked and air conditioning on ‘high’ – we headed home, grateful for the amazing experience that we just had!

I was in the town of Monroe, Oregon for a business presentation at the local library, and arrived an hour early. Looking for something to do, I headed south out of town and stumbled upon one of Oregon’s best-kept treasures. Just a mile or two to the south, Benton-Lane Winery prides itself on its organic and earth-friendly approach, and has earned certification under the internationally sanctioned L.I.V.E (Low Input Viticulture and Enology) program, and regionally sanctioned Salmon Safe program. In short, these winery folks take not only pride in the wines that they produce, but care for the land from which the vintages are derived.

I pulled into the driveway and was struck immediately by the surrounding scenery. Entering the tasting room, a foyer to the left directed my attention to a gorgeous and spacious patio outside. What a perfect gathering spot for a wedding, special event or a wine party!

Venturing up to the counter, I was immediately greeted by a friendly wine tasting attendant (Oregon seems to have a lot of these!) and offered tastes of some of the open wines. Oh, delight!

Their 2006 First Class Pinot Noir couldn’t have been more aptly named; it’s first-class and top notch. Wine Spectator gave the wine 92 points and wow, is that ever the truth. I was amazed and immediately bought a bottle.

A few more purchases later, I walked out, marveling at this exquisite family-run winery. To me, as a (almost) native Oregonian, this is what makes the state special. Oregon’s close-knit wine community are so focused on quality and integrity of their product, and Benton-Lane’s connection to the land that they cultivate are true attributes of what makes this such a great state.

Earlier this month, I was in Eugene/Springfield for business and made the most of a Friday afternoon meeting by planning an overnight stay with my friend, Billie, who lives in Springfield. The plan was to venture west from Eugene and find our way to Kentucky Falls. Billie said she had heard a lot about this amazing hike from friends, and had printed out the directions for our journey in eager anticipation of discovering what the buzz was all about.

The next morning, fully fueled and ready to go, we set out heading west on Hwy 126. At Whittaker Creek, we turned left (about 32 miles outside of Eugene), following a lush, jungle-like creek. The sun was shining brightly overhead, but the canopy made the whole road like a tunnel dappled with sunlight!

Driving note: Be aware that parts of this route are a little bit rutted and you should be on the lookout for the many axle-eating potholes on the gravel roadway!

We continued on, following the driving directions and ending up looping along different ridge tops that offered spectacular views to the left and right from the hogs back we were following. Finally, we descended into the North Fork Smith River drainage area, and found our trail head parking area.

Getting out of the car, we noticed that it was oddly quiet, with only the occasional Swainson’s and varied thrush calls breaking the silence. It was completely still and tranquil. Perfect for hiking!

We set off on the trail, which was only four miles round trip. The first section was very easy, merely a descending ramble along a well-maintained path. The serenity of the surroundings, lush foliage, and warm sweet citrus smell of pine needles made this place feel incredibly special- sort of what you might envision heaven being like. A feeling of peace enveloped us as the ethereal forest extended past us, and each of us were quiet, absorbing the grandeur of this place.

Eventually, we started to head down a cliff face after following a creek for awhile. At that point, the creek plummeted over the cliffs, and we followed albeit on a much more safe route on the trail. At the bottom, we had some amazing views of the Upper Kentucky Falls. We stopped and marveled at this amazing display, snapping photos like mad.

Continuing on, the trail kept up its groomed appearance, but the thimble berries in the sunlit patches hovered closer in, capturing the humidity and pretty soon, it was muggy and steamy along the trail. I reached for my water since I was perspiring so much from the heat. But it felt really good to be stretching my legs in such beautiful surroundings.

The trail continued downward, (which I found rather unusual since I am used to uphill from the start), and followed a series of switchbacks down to the base of yet another canyon. There, the reward of the hike was waiting for us. As we came around a little bit of a rock scramble then made our way up a nicely-built wooden viewing platform… and there they were: twin waterfalls. One was Kentucky Creek (Lower Falls) on the right, and the other the Smith River to the left, plunging downward in a second series of cataracts. Each of the falls had a completely different look and feel, even despite being in such close proximity to each other. Lower Kentucky Falls was much more mossier and lush, and had more of a dramatic rain-forest appearance. The Smith River Falls was larger by volume, and was more exposed, crashing down over slick, dark rocks… dramatic in its own right.

In short, this was one of the more spectacular hikes I’ve been on in awhile. Definitely worth the effort getting there and the hike, although uphill all the way back, was pretty easy, especially when there was so much scenery and wildflowers to be found along the way!

Once in awhile when we are traveling, we are gripped in nostalgia for yesteryear… a simpler time that reminds us of our childhood and the sheer adventure of traveling. I experienced that feeling again just this past Memorial Day weekend, when Brad and I saddled up and headed out for Newberry Crater for an anticipated camping trip.

We drove south of Bend, and then headed east up a gentle, long slope to the rim of Newberry Crater. Just as spectacular as its better-known cousin, Crater Lake, Newberry Crater is also the result of a spectacular explosion of a giant volcano that collapsed onto itself, resulting in not just one but two separate lakes divided by a young lava flow only 1,300 years old – making this area the newest volcanic activity area in Oregon.

At 6,400 feet, however, our ambitious camping plans were altered quickly, as we were greeted by 3-6 foot drifts of resolute snow lining the rim drive. A little too chilly for even these adventurous souls! However, the road was still open, and I had never really explored this area before, with the exception of a quick snow shoe trip a few years ago that took us from the snow park up to the western lake and resort.

However, today I wanted to keep driving, at least until the snow prevented us from going further, and we finally found ourselves at the East Lake Resort.

Under the blinding sun of an azure sky, the light bounced off of the snow and the thawing ice on the lake. Even though it is late May, winter was reluctant to release its grip from this snowy aerie. I was admiring the view while Brad was walking the dogs. Driven to the shoreline of the East Lake, the view was completely dazzling. A voice from behind me said, “Well, what do you think?” I turned, and spied David Jones, operator of the East Lake Resort, smiling at me. I said, “Well, I don’t think I’ll be taking a walk out on that ice out there!” and indicated that patches of broken ice floating in front of me.

He ambled over and started chatting. I asked him if he was the operator of the resort, and he indicated that he and his wife Kathy were the ones running the place. The pride of his hard work on East Lake brimmed on his face. “This is a special place… a lot of folks stop at the first resort, but it’s the ones that keep going and head to East Lake who really find something special,” he said.

I was captivated. Here, a mile above sea-level and snuggled in within drifts of snow, this man and his wife, along with the staff, were carving out a living welcoming visitors. David went on to tell me that they have 16 cabins, not to mention kayaks, pontoon and motor boats for rent. They also operate a nearby 40-space RV park. The resort features a lodge, restaurant, gift shop, and a coffee shop, so anyone who ventures up this area will find solitude, stunning scenery and top-notch hospitality.

We immediately inquired about vacancies, since the snow put a kibosh on our camping plans. “Full,” David said. But he encouraged us to come back and we do plan on it. Ah, well, we thought, there will be another time. A couple of other exciting things to do in the area included a short hike to a nearby hot springs and also, a walk up the Big Obsidian Flow, a nearby flow which is one of the geologic wonders of the Pacific Northwest. Obsidian, known as volcanic glass, came out of the ground in vast quantities in this area and you can find it all along this hike. According to scientists, obsidian from this area was previously traded up and down the entire Pacific Coast by Native Americans. It was a highly-prized item for making arrowheads and tools.

But alas, our time up here was merely spent exploring, not relaxing, so our next task was to find a plan “B” for camping. Down we went, returning back to the high desert plateau, with our next objective up near the Cascade Mountains. Finally we found a spot along Forest Service Road 42 and set up camp in a delightfully secluded area in the high forest, along an abandoned road.

The next day, we set off on a hike down the abandoned road until it fizzled out into a rough, barely discernible track that was largely overgrown by trees. We turned around, and headed back to camp. At this point, the high desert sun had warmed up the area substantially, and poor Timmy, having dark fur, was getting a little on the warm side. Fortunately for him, a lot of snow was still to be found in the shadows of the trees, and he began rolling around in the drift with a great deal of delight!

Undaunted, we returned to camp, loaded up the dogs and headed up closer to the mountains, where snow again served as a deterrent. A long drift covered the roadway, and that marked our turnaround point. A nearby trail head beckoned, so off we set to find Clover Meadow, a scant half-mile away. However, our foe was absolutely determined to keep us at bay; we managed perhaps a quarter of a mile before huge banks of snow covered the trail completely, and no trail markers were to be found. Unwilling to be a future news item (“Hikers rescued from trail-less area in Deschutes National Forest”), we turned around and called it good for the day.

The next morning, we packed up and headed home, but not before enjoying a treat first. We continued north along the Cascade Lakes Highway, which, if anyone is going to make a trip to Central Oregon, is a MUST DO! Shining mountaintops and lofty peaks makes this one of Oregon’s most scenic drives. I’ve been in the area during the winter and the summer, but not spring. The road was clear, the air was modestly warm, and the skies were absolutely pristine blue. But snow (and lots of it) still blanketed the area, which make the views all the more spectacular and dazzling.

After taking in the splendor of Mt. Bachelor, the Three Sisters, Broken Top and countless other peaks nearby, we pointed our compass home. Strange to think, as we headed into the 80-plus-degree heat down in the desert plateau, of how cool it was up in the mountains. With all of that snow, and how cold it still got at night, the one thing we remembered the most was the chirruping of the frogs at night up in the mountains. How do they do that, and not freeze?

That’s just another reason why Oregon is so amazing – the variety of terrain and scenery you can take in within a few hundred miles!

It was a moody afternoon and I was racking my brain trying to figure out what to do with my ‘tween’ Little Sister Sarah from the Big Brothers/Big Sisters program. She had the school afternoon off, and I was struggling with something fun that would be of interest to someone who was sixteen that wouldn’t be totally lame in a teenager’s eyes.

On a whim, I decided to take her for a drive out the Columbia River Gorge just to ‘get out of town’ and we could catch up. Incredibly, she has lived in Portland her whole life and has never been to this amazing place before, so she was game. I decided to do the “Cook’s Tour” and throw in something that would undoubtedly pique her interest.

The first photo stop we managed was outside of the town of Corbett, at the Portland Women’s Forum State Park, which offers a majestic overlook of an amazing panorama including the nearby Vista House. Sarah seemed pretty impressed with the view, and started snapping photos with her camera phone. We looked across the expanse and I reminded her that this was one of the views that were featured in the recent hit movie, “Twilight.”

Next, we moved to the historic View Point Inn, which was where“Twilight”cast and crew filmed the prom night scene. Her excitement level increased, and Sarah began even more furiously taking pictures. I had brought my camera along too, and took additional photos. As we were walking around the exterior, a friendly lady beckoned to us. “Come on in,” she said, beckoning. I was a little reluctant because I didn’t want to interfere with the business operations of the place, but it was pretty quiet on a Monday afternoon, so we stepped inside. Just inside the doorway, the gift shop was literally overflowing with movie paraphernalia and “Twilight” keepsakes. The woman was very informative, and encouraged us to take a peek into the dining room, which at the moment had just experienced re-varnishing of the wood floors, but otherwise was the set where the movie took place. Sarah was somewhat star-struck.

Fortunately, the View Point Inn representative had seen this before, and even offered to take us upstairs into the lodging area to show the rooms. We got a wonderful first-hand tour of the rest of the Inn, and she also showed us the window from the movie where the villain “Victoria” stood looking out towards the movie hero and heroine in the last scene. The owners of the Inn had decided to leave the window dressing the exact same way as it was during the movie, which I am sure that some “Twilight” buffs would appreciate.

After perusing the gift shop wares, and Sarah giggling gleefully that this little tour of ours would make her sister completely envious, we moved on through the Columbia Gorge. A number of stops took us to some of the big waterfalls that beg for photographs to be taken, and finally, Sarah looked at me sheepishly and told me she had run out of memory space on her camera phone because of all of the photos she had taken. I knew then that she had had a great time and enjoyed herself!

If you are interested in seeing some of the other Oregon locations for the movie, here are some tips:

For the surfing scenes for the movie, the movie crew moved to Indian Beach at the Ecola State Park on the Oregon Coast. The vampire-attack scene was shot at the Blue Heron Paper Company near Willamette Falls in Oregon City, while the school field trip to a greenhouse was filmed at the greenhouses found at Clackamas Community College, also in Oregon City. To see Charlie and Bella’s house, you’ll have to travel to St. Helens, where you might also recognize the historic part of the city, which doubled for Port Angeles for the shopping scene, including the Italian restaurant where Edward and Bella have dinner together.

Ironically, as a side note, I live in Portland, and in spring 2008 my husband and I had noticed that nearby Madison High School had been taken over by movie trucks and trailers. Since I was the neighborhood newsletter editor, I wandered over to get the ‘scoop’ on what flick was being filmed there. I was told it was some kind of “teenage vampire movie’ and the actors (at the time) were no giant superstars. Several of them were wandering through the parking lot between takes and I couldn’t recognize a single face. Little did I know that would change! As best as I could tell, the main scenes in the movie that were filmed literally three streets away from my house were the cafeteria and the biology lab scene.

Amazing to have a little slice of Hollywood right near my house!