Although we could have spent a month exploring and visiting in Washington, and although we don't have much of a set schedule, we do have a couple of deadlines and the clouds were getting to us. So, on the 24th we left Seattle, bright and early at noon thirty, for greener (and hopefully drier) pastures. Our first two stops in Oregon were both recommended to us by Ian and Rebecca, the formerly friends of friends, and now just regular old friends, we met up with in Seattle. When they mentioned lava tubes and phosphorescent sand, we said "hell yes!"
Sherpa dropped us off, in the rain of course, at the Ape Cave Trailhead and we got right to it, seeking shelter underground ASAP. Alas, due to the porosity of the volcanic basalt, it was still raining in the lava tube. C'est la vie. This place is awesome. As a geologist, I walked straight down to heaven, but because I spent all my time studying sediments and fossils, I still had the childlike joy of saying "oh man what the crap is that!? or that blobby thing? or that sparkly bit?" As I mentioned, Ape Cave is a lava tube, formed by rapidly flowing lava during a volcanic eruption. These features act like arteries, where molten stone can flow downhill while the surrounding area cools into a solid crusty skin. Lava tubes are common, but the extraordinary thing about ape cave is that it's huge. Even cavernous in some places. And open to the public! Seriously, you park your vehicle and walk right through the woods and down some stairs into the abyss. No signing in, paying fees, or filling out waivers. Just arrive and dive, the way it should be.
We walked nearly the entire traversable length of the cave, checking out the smooth spacious dead end lower tube and the cramped rock strewn upper tube as well. Our only missed section was the far upper exit because we saw a shortcut that was too good to pass up. As we walked, we came across a hole in the ceiling letting down a bright rainy sunbeam and a rotten old length of paracord. We weren't sure if there was a trail leading back to the parking lot at the top, but the answer to that was only a 20 foot boulder problem away. I climbed it first just because and Chelsea followed right behind because she was more ready to be done caving than I was ready to downclimb a mossy semi-waterfall. We booked it back to His Royal Truckness on the surface trail and hit up a nearby pub for the sloppiest cheeseburger you've ever seen before heading for the coast. In the rain. Of course.
Late that night we pulled into Cannon Beach and parked on a cliff at eye level with the famous Haystack Rock, beloved by all for its noble cameo in the classic film "The Goonies". We had come to this spot in particular because we'd heard rumors of psychedelic phosphorescent sand, which gives off a wave of brilliant green light when agitated due to the millions of little hard working dinoflaggellates. Hard working in the best of conditions that is. When we tried to rouse them the best they could do for us was a scattering of little green sparks, almost exactly like when you rub a nylon sleeping bag on a plastic cased dorm mattress. But that's phosphorescent sand in my book by god. We got what we came for and shivering, scurried back to our bed in Sherpa's Pack for another night in the rain. The next day we spent our time walking the beach beyond the haystack (in the partly covered sun, might I add) and watching unprepared landlubbers get totally wrecked by the incoming tide. People who grew up going to shorelines that don't move (like myself) just can't fathom that there's no safe place on the beach, and if you don't look out the next big one will put you in up to your waist and carry off your blanket and your little dog too. Off the beach and on the road again, we headed south on the picturesque Highway 101, stopping for sights in a few places and for the nicest service you could get for coffees and clam chowder in little odd named towns like Garibaldi, both served in cardboard travel cups.
In Newport, we abandoned the Pacific for a time, to head inland towards Bend, to meet our next host and my old friend from High School, Matt Bane AKA McBane. Funny how all your childhood friends keep their nicknames their whole lives huh? The drive east through the fertile and homey Willamette valley was beautiful by any measure even though it was ... you guessed it: Raining. We chose this route because it's featured prominently in the Emberverse series by one of our favorite authors, S.M. Stirling. Passing through Corvallis, I imagined bicycle pikemen pedaling in file on the highways and knights jousting on the campus quad, and as we climbed into the mountains, I was wary of cannibal ambushes out of the mist at every corner. If any of this sounds intriguing, check out the first book in the series, Dies the Fire from your local library and email us what you think.
We pulled into Bend just in time to catch the last inning of game one of the World Series with Matt at his regular seat in the sports bar. McBane is a Cubs fanatic, you know the kind who flies to Chicago to be in Wrigleyville just in case they win, and it was a pleasure seeing him the week his dream comes true. It was also a pleasure to finally dry our bedding and gear. Not air dry mind you, because it was still raining, but dry all the same. Between Cubs games and sampling the local brews, we got out of town to see Tumalo Falls and the outlying forests. Judging from the plant life it really is sunny most of the time here, just not this time. The wetness also put a damper on our climbing hopes, as this area is home to some world class rock, specifically Smith Rock. Just one big reason to return some day soon.
The other big reason for us to come back is Crater Lake, a seemingly other-worldly mountain paradise we've heard nothing but great things about. We were so stoked on it, we left Bend with time to spare and headed south late at night with plans on entering the park to camp on a logging road and come daylight, catch a ferry to Wizard Island, smack in the middle of the crater. To our great dismay, we found the road to the park closed without warning or notice. This is only the latest blockage in a long string of closed gates, impassable roads, restricted seasons, and outright inexplicable barriers that are so prevalent in the American public lands. I could write an entire article on my experience with the issue of governmental restrictions on the public from their rightful entry to the parks and forest systems, and I just might if I thought anyone would read it. Beaten, but not knocked out, we pulled off on one of the forest roads with no barriers to camp for the night, and pressed on in the morning for that golden land of opportunity, and hopefully some damn sun, California.
Up Next: Redwood National Forest
We drove through some beautiful National Parks (Umpqua, Rogue River-Siskiyou, and Klamath National Forests) which had the weather not been so foul we would have loved to spend some time in. Oregon, we will come again. If you have any thoughts or questions about our adventures so far, make sure to let us know on Facebook or through the Contact Us page. Make sure to take a look at the full photo album on our Photos page.