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Thursday August 11

I woke up this morning; and looked in the mirror. I have six weeks grow of beard, sun bleached hair, longer than it had been for over 15 years; my face a very healthy red colour and my eyebrows sun bleached to the extent that they are now invisible.

I was not sure what to do today; my back was killing me from yesterday; so a return trip to Crater Lake was out. The waitress last night suggested driving to the town of Roseburg along route 138; as there were some waterfalls, and it was a pretty pleasant drive.

The first waterfall I came to was called Clearwater Falls. It was pretty difficult to get a good shot of it, as it was criss-crossed by fallen trees. All the trees that were still standing were covered in long beards of lichen like this in Olympic. Thankfully, the falls were only a short, level walk from the car park; the next one would not be so easy.

A short drive away was the Watson Falls. The trail marker said that it was just a half mile away; so I set off. The trail was quite steep; but nothing really hard; but my back started up straight away. I had to take frequent breaks, and try to find somewhere to sit down. It was a real struggle; but once at the falls it was worth it. The falls were over 50 yards high, and fell into a semi-circular gorge. Unfortunately, for the photographer, the sun was directly behind the falls, so getting a shot was very difficult indeed.

After that struggle, I decided to give the rambling a rest for a while, and just drove. The road descended down a river gorge, dropping from 4500 feet above sea level to less than 500. The road was spectacular as seems the norm around here. At the bottom of the gorge, the land flattened out into rolling hills, and the temperature went up many degrees. Trees thinned out, and farms sprung up.

I stopped at a small town called Glide. No, really. At a small diner. I had burger again, and once again the best thing to be said about it was it was better than the Hungry Bear! Further on towards Roseburg, I passed garlic farms; and on the side of the road, stalls were set up selling the largest cloves I have ever seen, some nearly the size of pears.

Roseburg is a town very much down on its luck; or gives that impression. Just driving through I saw four resale shops and a pawnbrokers. I failed to find a place that offered internet access, and turned round and headed back into the mountains along 138. I put the music on loud, put the sunglasses back on, and set the cruise control for 57, and let rip.

That night, I decided to have a booze free night after last nights excesses. I had a quiet meal in the restaurant, and have a quiet evening watching the sun set over the lake.

Friday August 12 Bob had invited me stay at his place, if I wanted; he lived in the hills near Grant’s Pass, and had a herd of semi-tame deer that he fed. I would see how the day panned out.

After the pain in my back, I decided that I was not going to be doing any more hiking; so I sent my boots back home in the post; and in the process, making more room in my case.

I decided to head back to Crater Lake to have one last look; as it was later than last time I came, it was pretty crowded, even at the lookouts; so the village would be packed. Overhead, aircraft con-trails criss-crossed the sky; I contented myself with the knowledge that it looked better when I took my pictures two days before. I headed out back the way I came, as I had seen signs for more waterfalls on the way up on Tuesday.

The road was still wide and mostly traffic free; I tried to guess how long the straights were; the longest being nearly four miles.

At the Rogue River gorge, were the river is channeled through an old lava flow, I stopped to take some more pictures. And what was really great, was that I had the place to myself.

I stopped nearby at a diner; thankfully it was much better than recent places. It did pies; but I found out that Huckleberries were not quite in season; damn! A little further on was a place called Natural Bridge, were the river actually flows through a lave tube, to exit back into the sunlight 50 yards further downstream. It just wasn’t photogenic.

I stopped in the town of Gold Hill again to call Bob; I decided to stay with him if I could find his place. He said it was ok, and gave me directions from where I was. Of course I missed the turn off the interstate, and ended up in Grant’s Pass. A quick call put me on the right road; and I headed out into the hills. Bob runs a business from his house, so we hung out until 5, when he closed up; and we headed back into Grant’s Pass to a riverside restaurant he knew called R-Haus. Unusually, they had lamb, which I could not resist; however Bob had the baby back ribs, with their special sauce, which was rather special.

We headed back to bob’s place to wait for dusk, and the coming of the deer. It was too dark to take pictures, but I hoped that I would have better luck in the morning.