Day Three Part Deux

Lunch was from where I posted last - a nice sandwich/coffee shop in downtown Klamath across from the courthouse - Hilltop Cafe, or something like that. Good sandwiches and free wi-fi! Michelle also found a great yarn shop, Circle of Yarns in the same downtown area...on Main Street, no less. Michelle wants me to tell you that Peaux had diarrhea all over the sidewalk - like 8 feet of diarrhea - which she cleaned up.

So - on to Lakeview. About a two-hour drive. Biggest thing I remember is passing Mt. Gearhart. Gearhart was the first place I ever went backpacking in Oregon. It was with the aforementioned Jack, the one who nearly died so far from home in Ecuador. We nearly froze to death on that excursion. It was November, before the snows, but -very- cold. It is a lonely place. One of those camping areas of Oregon where you don't see anyone on the trail. There is a great view of Mt. Shasta from there, though.

In Lakeview we had pie at a quaint round diner. Found out where the cheapest gas was, which was just out of town at a place called Hunters. It was a mere $4.37. We topped off and headed for Frenchglen.

The drive to Frenchglen, along 140 via Denio, NV, is one of those great empty places that in the US only exist in the West, specifically West of East Texas. There is nothing for miles but sage brush, wild lavender, the scrub that becomes tumbleweeds in August, and the occasional tiny hamlet (the term is an exaggeration, but what do you call such places?). You pass very few cars along the way. It is one of those places you never want to break down. It is one of those places that, nearly bereft of human community, though not the evidence of one, gives rise to movies like Texas Chainsaw Massacre and The Hills Have Eyes. Though I'm sure such a comment would irritate or amuse the residents of such an area.

It is not without it's beauty. The great buttes and valleys. The broken down houses and barns along the road that make you wonder, who lived here? What was their life like? Why did they leave? The ribbon like roads that scar the landscape.

Here is the road up Antelope Butte, it's the scar in the side of the butte - and looking back from where we came. It is strange to be able to see the road for so many miles.















Once at the top of Antelope Butte, you don't really descend. At least not noticeably. It is a long, slow descent into Nevada. You just touch the true desert. The gray-green sage brush high desert turns to more barren brown in places.


Eventually you hit Denio, and turn north. It is another 70 miles or so to Frenchglen. The hills gradually get more trees on them, until you leave the Nevada desert behind, and the west side of the Steens are in the distance.

After driving along a 50 mile ridge, with the west side of the Steens in the distance, you descend into Frenchglen. And I mean descend.

We checked in, ran the dogs a little, and were immediately set upon by skeeters. And they are bad here. Louisiana-when-they-haven't-sprayed bad. Michelle will suffer, but they are really bugging me too. We had a very nice "family style" meal and are in a comfy multi-room guest cottage in the back of the property.

Health note: Michelle is suffering from skeeters. My cyst has been acting up all day. I finally got a message from my doctor. I am picking up a prescription tomorrow, finally. Valve is quiet. I think it is safe to say I have avoided salmonella.