There’s no better place to camp. I know that feeling in me is spurred on by all the great memories I have of the place, but seriously… gorgeous river, fantastic trees, the smell of the air is breathtaking, and the beauty unparalleled. Ah, it will be good to go back again.
Mostly we ate at Vicki and Sandy’s cabin. Sort of cheesy as camping goes, but easy. One night, however, we decided we needed to cook at our campsite. The menu… baked potatoes, in the fire, steak cooked on the fire, and corn on the cob, also cooked on the fire. The gnats were gnasty… LOL… but it was a great tasting meal. Add a beer and it was down right splendid.
We went into Sisters one day for a couple of hours while we were over camping. It was a bit warm. Weston, who never drinks out of “other” bowls, drank. It was a first.
This particular shot was taken outside a great gallery in Sisters. We love this place and in fact have purchased stuff there in the past. Sisters is a cool little town, though now it’s a bit touristy. But who cares, it’s fun none the less.
It’s amazing in the Camp Sherman area of the Metolius. I love it there. My family went there nearly every year for awhile when I was young. I learned to fly fish on this river and loved every moment we spent there. Being there as an adult brings back all those great memories and the feelings associated with them. Fishing the river with mom and Kev, Bill teaching me how to fish there, floating down it on inner tubes, catching fish and flopping them up onto shore right at my grandparents feet because I was small and didn’t have a net, freezing after spending too long in the cold water, sniffing the vanilla smelling goodness of the trees, exploring the area in the car with the family singing those crazy Bill songs, eating ice cream sandwiches purchased at the store… the list goes on. For me this is one of two apexes of happiness of my childhood. This place, and the farm my grandparents lived at when I was a kid, are tops. What great warm memories. What joy. What happiness. I love the Camp Sherman area. I spend time there and not only enjoy the moments I have now, as an adult, but I remember all the good things about what it was to be a kid there. It’s a wonderful feeling every time I go.
I’ve been remiss. No blogging out of me for quite some time. I could go on and on with excuses, but I won’t. I will just dive right back in and do a monster blog summing up the last couple of weeks in our lives.
We went camping at the Metolius with our friends Sandy and Vicki. We went over on the 20th, grabbed a site at the Riverside campground, and our pals checked into the Lake River Resort or Lake View Resort or well, you get the idea.
This was our campsite.
So the amazing thing was Karen, I, and the dogs went for a little walk along the creek, walked around a bend, and there, in the middle of a marshy area was this bald eagle. Really amazing. I can’t do it justice, still cursing under my breath that I need a bigger lens. But I managed to get a few shots that were OK. So cool to see one that close to us. What fantastic creatures they are.
The Davis Lake West campground is an amazing place. Several years ago there was a pretty devastating fire in the area. All the area right around the campground was burned to a crisp. When you drive down into the campground it’s like going through a forest ghost town. Dead trees everywhere. Miraculously though once you get right to the campground… trees, green, underbrush. It’s like an oasis in the middle of the desert. Strange… and beautiful.
The area where the fire was is starting to show major signs of life… underbrush really starting to develop, small trees sprouting up that will one day tower over the landscape. It’s lovely. A beautiful reminder that life springs and moves forward, constantly flowing. There’s always something new, always something beautiful, always. If you look, and sometimes you have to look hard, you can always find it. Nature is amazing and life is a constant and stunning miracle.
These little dudes were both torment and entertainment for the pups during the camping trip. Two encampments, two to three feet from each other. One chipmunk would pop it’s head out, scouting, he’d waive his little claw or paw or whatever you call it and then yell… run! There’d then be this rush of feet and fur scampering from one encampment to the other. Back and forth this went on. Day after day. They’re in the fox hole in this shot, getting ready for their next move.