After two years of driving, it finally happened, as I knew it would. Excited about being rooted in one place for five months, I forgot to pay close attention to procedures, didn’t move the mirrors down before beginning, moved to quickly and tried to swing 45 feet through a narrow steel entrance gate without guidance from my “team mate”. When I lowered the window and meekly yelled “help”, John being John, grabbed the camera to document the occasion before helping me back up and re-enter. Scratched would be a nice way of describing the paint I tore off. Could have been worse as nothing was damaged apart from the paint. Guaranteed I will be hearing about this for the entire season, possibly even for years beyond.

Have begun making Lone Pine Group Campground “homey”. Our trip to Wal-Martian Central (a.k.a.,Roseburg Wal-Mart) commenced the orchestrating of ornamental Pansy’s set to burst out of the top of dead rotting tree stumps and tumble down the sides. A basket of petit multicolored flowers will somersault out of their hanging container and provide an attractant for the hummingbird feeders nearby. We are nurturing herbs to flavor our salads near our front door. Eventually, a myriad of floral reds will sprout from our big brown planter parked in our driveway. Oh how I love having colors springing from a patch of dirt that I can call my very own for a whole season!

We are beginning to see various colors of hummingbirds at our feeders.

There are several bird and owl boxes near our site.  Currently we have one neighbor building a nest.

John waited several days before telling me that the largest tree on the property, the one I loved to walk by every day last season and gaze up at, had been taken down. This was the only tree that was spared from the clear cutting that wiped out the old growth trees growing here when it was a sawmill back in 1941.

Sad, but the park decided that it was a danger because of rot deep inside its core. Falling would be a hazard so they ended its reign just a few weeks before our arrival.

Rock Creek Saw Mill, owned by Douglas County Lumber Company, occupied this area from 1941 through 1956. We are hosts at Lone Pine, the area where the Wigwam Burner and Generator were located. Mice run rampant inside the huge hollow base of the burner that stands near our RV.

We have already begun baiting the area and KatieBug is not allowed off her leash. Our maintenance manager has been telling tales of multi thousand dollar damage done to host RV’s at other BLM sites from mice gnawing the slide/air conditioning/heating wiring. Sorry PETA but we prefer tiny wild furry things outside our home or dead, no in-between, spiders included.

Last year we hosted at Mill Pond where the Okieville Homes, living quarters for the loggers, were located when it was a sawmill camp.

Our group campground is not as impressive as Mill Pond Recreation Area, but has far less responsibilities.

We have two small quick spray-down vault toilets, a cozy easy care pavilion,

Volley ball and horse shoe pits and fewer campsites than last year.

No swimming hole and no flush toilets/bathrooms.

Our work camp hosting begins on May 22^nd so we have time to visit places we missed out on last year. Wineries, of course, and waterfalls abound within a 50 mile radius of the campground.

John got up early this morning to attempt a bike ride down Rock Creek Road and came home stating that uphill Bureau of Land Management gravel roads are not compatible with bike tires. A quick shower later we were driving down Rt.138 in search of waterfalls.

First stop was the Tioga wooden bridge that connects Rt. 138 to the N. Umpqua Trail.  It is an amazing fragrantly piney wooden bridge, used by locals and visitors alike.  Across the bridge was a 40 foot high snow melt falls running into the river.  This is wild iris country.

Further up the river, a quick ¼ mile hike brought the short but massive Deadline Falls into view.

Along Steamboat Creek is Little Falls, a 10 foot drop into a series of deep pools.

Snow melt falls followed us along the sides of the road.  John and KatieBug decided to get out and explore.  The rocks were imbedded with flowering succulents.

Steamboat Falls, next to Steamboat campground, is a 25 foot falls located next to the fish ladder. If you look close, you can see a lady on the right side of the pool walking towards her yellow blanket.  Lots of poison oak on the trail so we did an about face after taking a picture and were on our way.

A pit stop for water at Dry Creek Market and a surprise visit by a fearless wild turkey. John had a hotdog in his hand, the critter jumped at him for a bite but John was not in a sharing mood.

Rated a moderate trail, the 7/8^th of a mile hike to Toketee Falls, with its10 foot width and 113 foot high drop to the pool below, is one of the most famous waterfalls in all of Oregon.  You climb up and down a multitude of stairs.

When you reached the top of the mountain, deep pools stair-stepped downward before the water reached the top of Toketee Falls.

12 foot high and wooden, Toketee Pipeline diverts much of the volume of the N. Umpqua River to a powerhouse downstream.

There are 23 falls that grace the North Umpqua River and its offshoots. This year our goal is to hike to at least half.

Our adventure for today was a somewhat planned, but unprepared for, a 50 mile trip from Lone Pine Campground to the town of Cottage Grove.  In hindsight, this “back way out” would never need to be used by us to escape a fire. Fires would most likely start in the direction we headed as not one resident or business stood between Lone Pine and our exit at Cottage Grove.  The forestry service usually lets interior fires burn out by themselves. Our logical escape would be the logging road we take to reach the town of Glide, a mere 20 minutes away. That didn’t enter our thoughts until we had traveled an hour along the dizzying switchback climb of 3,640 in elevation, with less than a quarter tank of gas, no road map, no cell connection to direct us. Not helpful was the pouring rain, fog hovering over the higher elevation of the mountain road and unmarked roads splitting off in a variety of directions. Barely noticeable in the downpour and fog was an arrow and town name spray painted on the ground directing loggers to their correct destination.

Reminiscent of Alaskan roads, logging roads have huge chunks cracked off from the edges and sometimes are split in the middle, boulders tumble down into the roadway, and trees slump over threatening to fall across your path. It took us 2 hours and the empty tank light had been on for several miles by the time we reached civilization and fuel.

I played in the water today.  Well, not actually played, I sprayed and got splashed.

Make ready day had arrived and our first group of campers will intrude upon the quiet early afternoon.  We cleaned out dead mice/spiders/hornets from the storage sheds, pressure washed the vault toilets, blew off the thick blanket of pine needles that covered the paths/campsites/tables, pressure washed the pavilion floor/tables/counters, restocked supplies and are now set for the Lone Pine Group Campground host experience and the 70 people arriving Thursday.

Arrived at Brookings Elks Lodge RV Park, our home for the next week.

Visiting family and extended serene strolls along Harris Beach

Visits to Chetco Inn Senior Home with KatieBug and stopping to smell the flowers in Azalea Park.

Seagulls at dusk and a Jonathan Livingston Seagull sunset following a picture perfect day.

McDonald’s for breakfast with Dad and all of his cronies before relaxing and waiting out the grayness. Tonight will be dinner with the family before storing away anything that may slide or shatter for the next leg of our journey.

Gray all day today.  So gray it turns everything colorless.  The fog is gray, the sky is gray, the ocean is gray and all this gray is turning our dispositions somber.

An impromptu outing to Brandy Peak Distillery might be enough to turn our gray day to grand, so we jumped in the car and headed down the wiggly, bouncy, rain drenched uphill roads, several miles above civilization.  One sharp turn and we arrived abruptly upon a genuine backwoods moonshine distillery.  Specialize in designer flavors, the owners have been creating brandies since 1994.

We have been to distilleries elsewhere but this one stirs the imagination and brings back images of the deep South down home country backwood stills.  The location is tucked away in the woods inside a huge nondescript metal warehouse.

The tasting room was small and cozy, offering a sip of each type for a small fee. We enjoyed them all but came home with bottles of Grappa and made-from-the-local-blackberries yummy liquor.

Woke up, hugs for my Dad and off we drive into the morning sunrise between football field size patches of fog. Soon we have met up with, and slipped under, the dark thunder clouds that had been looming ahead. Rain is not a comforting or calming condition in which to drive along the winding narrow Oregon coastal roadways.

With each trip, John gets braver with his sense of ability to maneuver. Stopping to check out a local berry gift store and market, seeing an RV U-turn sign, he proceeded to squeeze our rig around the back of the store into the parking lot. Stressfully tight but successfully accomplished, when ready to depart we stashed some triply berry “no sugar added” jam into LilyPad and away we went.

Our sleepover stay for the next two nights is the stunningly landscaped, impressively clean, loaded with amenities Seven Feather’s Casino RV Park. Rivals that of the hoity-toity Las Vegas Motor Coach Resort but scads less expensive, includes free transportation to the casino and to anyplace in the tiny town of Canyonville Oregon and quiet enough to allow me a complete nights rest.

Dropped anchor and took the complimentary bus to the casino adding two more player cards to our growing collection. Our free play and a visit to Willie Wonka, my favorite machine, brought additional monies back home.  We had cable, a coveted connection when on the road, so relaxation and TV programs was the nights plan.

Another day of relaxation and visits to Pyrenees Winery (they were impressed with their high dollar wines, we were not)

and Abacela Winery,

stashing away two more bottles of red fermented juice of the grape from Abacela before we leave for our much anticipated entire season work camp position at Lone Pine Group Campground.

And we’re off…first night was a quiet, mostly long term campers, easy pull through site.  Got a picture of our Italian neighbor’s rig.  I’m guessing no one messes with him!

When we were hooked up to leave, John took the wheel and got between a rock and a hard place. Unwilling to wait, patient person that he thinks he is, below is what resulted when he tried to make a left turn around a truck that was obviously stuck out far beyond maneuverability. Yea, go ahead guys, tell me again how horrible we ladies drive!

Unhitched Ribbit, backed up, turned the corner, re-hitched, went on our way.

A picture pause by Greenwood Tree Farms after passing hundreds of acres of trees in step ladder stages of growth.

A KatieBug potty stop and sighting of John Day Dam sparked our interest for a rest stop at Bonneville Lock Dam and Bradford Island Fishway, the fish hatchery and fish ladder, an hour up the road.

John Day Fossil Beds National Monument and close up of the fascinating Painted Hills

Before we reached Bonneville Lock Dam, just past the Painted Hills, a snowy white view of Mount Hood appeared in the distance.

Reaching the Bonneville Lock Dam turnoff and after turning down the narrow dam road, breathing a sigh of relief as a giant parking lot emerged.  We parked, had lunch inside LilyPad and began our self-guided walking tour. It was an enjoyable stroll through the museum, the fish ladder and watching the powerful surge of the dam waters from the observation deck.

John played guard by the 1930’s guard house with the hydroelectric dam, built in 1937 by the Army Corps of Engineers, in the background.  Osprey circled above our heads.

The dam, fish ladder and hatchery were constructed with the blessing of Franklin D. Roosevelt, his administration and the New Deal after the war to put Americans back to work. It was one of the first of 10 such dams to harness power provided by the Columbia River.

Fish ladder view from the outside and inside.

Our overnight stop for tonight is the Elks Lodge in Salem, OR. It is directly across from the National Guard Airport. Says the-man-who-can-sleep-through-an-atom-bomb, “it won’t be that noisy”.  Upon arrival, our camp host shouted above the whap/whap/whap of the helicopter blades, “the boys only play with their helicopters until about 10:00 pm”.  The geese seem oblivious to the noise.

Sunset over the National Guard building and the helicopters are still air born.

It’s now after 11 pm and the TV sound is overwhelmed by the sounds of orbiting engines.  You can faintly hear snoring coming from our bedroom in the mix.  It’s going to be a long night.

Morning arrived, seemingly after I had just closed my eyes but the highway calls so off we go.  Passing dozens of “Old McDonald Had a Farm” fields, some with garden variety farm animals, some with designer wildlife, the terrain became steep and mountainous and LilyPad’s engine shifted repeatedly for the ascension.

Arrived at Hi Way Haven in Sutherland OR, the RV Park with the drive-in movies on weekends. The couple that work camps here used to be at the 242 RV Park in Conroe, the one where we had LilyPad’s open house.

This is one of my favorite places to pay for a stay in the area, our RV site at Lone Pine being free but not easy to access for short term. Reasonable prices during the week, just a few curves up the road from numerous wineries, minutes to the city of Roseburg for shopping and, the best part, friendly Texans for hosts.

Our one day training at Mill Pond Recreation Area, where we spent an excellent two months last year as camp hosts (exception being the dreaded bathroom cleaning) was an enlightening experience.

We all know laws change from state to state and some seem more peculiar than others. Massachusetts law forbids carrying ice cream in your pocket. OK…I can understand that. Some are not that significant…Washington not allowing collection of fire wood in the park, the opposite of Oregon, which allows any dead wood to be fair game. Washington allows gathering wild flowers, Oregon’s rule is hands off.  Washington has public nudity laws forbidding nude swimming in public places but what I wasn’t ready to deal with was hearing about Oregon allowing people to swim nude in public places. Nothing even minutely similar occurred last year.  As luck would have it, this year the swimming hole is not our responsibility. My plan, if made aware of such an occurrence in process, is to yell… “John, you are needed at Rock Creek swimming hole!”.

Couldn’t resist a side trip to two of the 23 local wineries.  Henry Estate Winery, our first stop, had free tasting.  Brought home a fruity dry white and a nice easy drinking Bordeaux.  The building and surrounding area reminded us of Bernhardt Wineries in Plantersville, TX.  Henry Estate has monthly events, one being a crayfish boil with Cajun music in June.  Looks like we will be celebrating Father’s Day gleefully pinching tails and sucking heads.

Down a long curvy dirt road, high upon a hill, sits Prayer Rock Vineyard.  Their wine tasting wasn’t free but included a few bites paired with the wines.  We brought home a nice Spanish Tempranillo.

Devoted attention from Shiraz, their gentle oversize wooly vineyard welcome wagon, immediately offered countless wet doggy breath kisses and gave way to bittersweet memories of our sweet Millie.

Back tracking to visit my dad in Brookings Oregon for a week before we begin our season at Lone Pine Group Campground. On the way, Bandon, our favorite side trip, is having a Farmers Market with musicians “singing an a picken” at the Market entrance.

The block-long parking lot across the street has plenty of room for our 65’ and it is our usual spot to park. We wander around, have lunch at our favorite eatery, return to LilyPad and John drives slowly across the gravel lot to the road. Upon reaching the road, out of the corner of our eyes, we see a man speeding quickly to our windshield and stopping, waving his arms. John opens up the side window and is told that he is dragging the car. Getting out, we see behind LilyPad two deep rivulets completely void of gravel, trailing from across the parking lot up to our stop. Someone, who shall remain nameless, forgot to take Ribbit out of park when he did his routine “walk around” before we drove away.