We do this a lot . . . visit a location repeatedly throughout the year. For us, it is often the destination, not necessarily the journey.
There are times when exploring a space, looking for something unique, new or just different is the mission.
But that is not this week. This week we’re trying to just get outside.
There are few places as relaxing as a spot next to moving water. It’s still early summer and the days are warm and the camp sites are still relatively empty. Neither of those will be true in a couple of weeks.
The Osprey caught fish . . . I did not.
We spotted an Oriole, which is actually pretty rare around here.
These song birds forage in riparian corridors and mainly eat insects, berries and nectar.
The canyon is painted with yellow balsamroot and wild iris. June is peak wildflower season in the high desert.
Mostly, we sat in camp chairs on the edge of the stream just enjoying being outside.
Though rarely, there ARE times when we don’t want to be on a river.
After the middle of June, the Lower Deschutes Canyon is off our calendar. What we avoid is a summer influx of tourists and high desert heat . . . an aversion acquired while living in Western Montana and constantly cultivated.
A highly anticipated Stonefly hatch usually precedes rafter season in Maupin.
After the runoff has calmed and waters have cleared AND before summer’s heat, we try to get one last day on the Deschutes.
This typically involves multiple trips as it turns out the Lower Deschutes is nice in the spring . . . and the fall as well.
It’s still spring in the canyon. The barrage of summer’s heat hasn’t penetrated this far.
Wild flowers are still blooming, families of waterfowl hang in the reeds and the days are short enough to offer cool mornings.
The Subaru serves as a base of operation but loses its appeal when parked under a summer sun. A couple weeks ago, camp chairs at the road’s edge worked, but this week that approach required we find some afternoon shade.
The seaonal Golden Stone and Salmon Fly hatch is dictated by nature and water temperature. The term ‘hatch’, gets used to describe an individual event, but could also mean a series of similar events.
We’ve found it best to start with the latter. With an understanding of aquatic invertebrate life cycles, you can be on the river at the proper time . . . be patient.
Since late winter, we’ve been making the trek to Maupin to check progress on the stonefly’s crawl to river’s edge. A scientific study that has been well documented.
Seemed likely this trip would end the season, so I tied up an old standard, two actually; Box Canyon Stonefly and Langtrey Special. Both caught fish.
We spent the evening under a grove of Oregon Ash at BLM’s Blue Hole Campground.
We finished our picnic, enjoyed a cold drink and listened to the bird song and wind in the branches.
Winter in Central Oregon took a vacation this week. In its place we got a false spring. Understanding this would be short lived, we headed north to Maupin and renewed the quest for a BWO hatch.
Weather is only an issue if you’re not prepared. 35 years ago we exchanged winters of snow and ice for ones with gray skies and rain. A move that required a shift from down to gore-tex . . . Malones and Sorels got changed out for Carhartt and Bogs.
Then came retirement and a move back into winter with snow as a season.
Once again we’re shoveling driveways, layering up and parking sorrels by the door. There is also a lot more sunshine and when you can choose the days you drive . . . winter weather is much less of an issue.
The Lower Deschutes shed it’s morning frost as the sun reached the canyon floor. It was a good day on the river. We hooked some fish, though there was no mayfly hatch this day.
There was a raft of ducks riding the current and a Great Blue Heron stoically perched on a bare tree top.
Not suggesting weather isn’t a focus, it is, but it is only part of the planning. This year’s winter has presented us with more than the usual obstacles to trip scheduling. One day there’s snow bringing treacherous roads, but then a couple days later temps peak in the 40’s and the roads are bare.
We’re back in tune with snowy weather and enjoying the season.
The secret is to take advantage of these good travel days and venture out … we will.
Halloween candy wasn’t even gone from the pantry and our social media feeds began to fill with gift suggestions tucked among the posts. It’s difficult to be in a holiday spirit when you’ve been bombarded with ads for two months. Amplifying the sales spiels is a din of corporate media messages passing off their price gouging as a recession.
With a lingering pandemic, threats to global peace and what appears to be half of the country ready to embrace a fascist coup, it’s not been a great year. Yeah . . . it’s hard to find any spirit of the season in our hearts.
But then we took a look back at the forty-plus entries on this blog and realized there were plenty of bright spots.
In spite of the chaos that surrounds us, we’ve managed to get out in the woods, tramp across the high desert and stand in a stream or two.
Basically . . . enjoy the moment … we hope you have done the same.
There won’t be any blog entries for the next few weeks, but look for a new post toward the end of January. For now, take a moment and reflect on this year’s high points . . .
We wish all our readers Happy Holidays and a prosperous New Year!
Foul weather is the reason most stated for not going outside … saw it on FaceBook, I think. Since moving to Central Oregon we’ve grown very attached to iPhone weather apps. Our weekly sojourns are guided by the trove of information available via this visual piece of software, now bundled with iOS.
Weather permitting, we like to take in at least one winter day at Summer Lake Wildlife Refuge.
Granted, peak birding season is March to May when a majority of the migratory birds are in the flyway. But winter weather doesn’t just affect wildlife, there are seasonal changes to vegetation around this marshy lowland.
Weather on the valley floor is dependent on and very different from Fremont Ridge to the south or Abert Rim to the East.
Summer Lake and La Pine are at nearly the same elevation with a couple of ancient lava mounds between them.
Our day starts in a pine forest as Highway 31 scales the southern edge of Paulina’s lava flow. At the Fort Rock junction scenery changes to sage. There is a distinct high desert landscape along the southern edge of Christmas Valley, through Silver Lake.
From there it’s a gradual climb up the western slope of Fremont Ridge. Looking back, west from Picture Rock Pass, you’ll get a better sense of that elevation change.
From the same vantage point looking east, Summer Lake sits in a wide valley butted up to the nearly vertical rockface of Fremont Ridge. The slope along the lake’s southern edge, and in the distance Abert Ridge, present great photo backdrops. Wind has scraped recent snowfall into crevices defining Fremont Ridge as it pushes up from the valley.
In the refuge’s marsh golden shades of reeds and grass jutting out of snow add texture, as well as color.
It’s the middle of duck season and RV’s fill the camp sites but we encounter no one.
It’s a cold, sunny mid-week day and we’re finding lots of landscape photo ops, as well as a handful of raptor sightings. Just a typical winter’s day at Summer Lake.