Mount Mazuma	Back to the Current Issue Back to Features
by Ken Treweeke

I suppose it was at least twelve years ago that my wife Jean and I decided to make a foray into Oregon and experience the wonders of Crater Lake. At that time I was still a breadwinner and we toured by car, down the Oregon coast, with the intention of cutting inland at Coos Bay. As so often happens, the best laid plans went astray - we were so enthraled by the coastal route that we were loathe to leave it and decided to postpone the lake for a later trip. Since then I have retired, we have acquired an eighteen foot travel trailer together with a Dodge Ramcharger, and have enjoyed many R.V. trips around the province and into the mountainous states of Idaho, Montana and Wyoming.

Back in June we made the decision that, come hell or high water, this "Fall" we would make it into Crater Lake and accordingly I mapped out a route which would take us down the Oregon coast to Reedsport, inland to the lake and then back home through Bend, to visit the caves, and down the Columbia gorge.

And so we set out two days after Labour day under perfect weather conditions. Since we both tend to stiffen up if sitting too long we make a point of keeping our daily mileage below two hundred and work in a stop for a leg stretch, if possible, every ninety minutes. Allowing for border delays, gassing up and stocking the fridge in Blaine, we planned our first nights camp at the Lake Goodwin Resort at Marysville just north of Everett. Well, we turned off the I-5 at the right exit and travelled the back roads to Lake Goodwin searching for the side road to the resort. I thought we were keeping a sharp lookout when my navigator calmly informed me that we had just passed it. Well, as you trailer towers know, you don't turn a thirty-five foot long rig around without plenty of space and on a country road that is not readily available. When we did, several miles further on, come to a wide side road to back into, we found to our astonishment that it was the entrance to Wenberg State Park. Well folks, right there and then, the resort lost a customer and the Washington State Finance Dept. experienced an immediate increase in revenue.

The park is very attractively located on the shore of Goodwin Lake which offers all the usual water sports. The campground is large but has only ten serviced lots (el. & water) but having arrived early in the afternoon we were lucky and had the choice of several. All were pull-through but poorly prepared gravel lots and we were greatly amused by the manoeuvres of an adjacent large fifth wheel camper who was trying to park in a reasonably level spot. At one point, in total frustration, he asked the world in general "Why can't they build these **##!! sites flat?". We could empathize, having experienced similar difficulties.

The following day we completed the second leg and over-nighted in a private campground just off the Freeway at Castle Rock. It was an open area having limited shade and with a blazing sun and 850 F., we were happy to relax under their showers, particularly after negotiating the nightmare of the concrete jungle that is the Seattle-Tacoma area Freeway. Towing a trailer on a five lane highway and having to change lanes in the thick of heavy fast moving traffic requires all one's concentration and the showers at the end of the day were bliss.

The following day was Friday and, not wishing to tangle with the rush hour traffic of Portland, we crossed the Columbia at Longview and cut inland from Rainier through Apiary, Vernonia and Timber to Tillamook. Except for the last thirty miles, they were secondary roads, paved and well maintained. We were aiming for Cape Lookout State Park and under gloriously sunny skies until we passed through Tillamook and approached the coast when the sea mist rolled in and blanketed everything three hundred feet above ground level. While we took the scenic route, the weekend campers from Portland and Astoria must have taken the highways because we arrived early in the afternoon to find the campground virtually full and all the serviced lots long taken.

We were aiming for South Beach State Park, south of Newport, on the following day and having packed up, ready for departure, I started up the motor but it didn't catch on with it's usual enthusiasm and I thought dampness had crept in from the sea mist. I should have known better. Being low on gas, we headed back into Tillamook but not finding a gas station with a reasonable lead-in to the pumps, we decided to proceed down the highway, having gas for a good thirty miles. Some five miles south of the city I spotted pumps just off the highway on a secondary road and so we turned off. The fuel cap on our vehicle is on the driver's side but a low canopy prevented me from pulling up to the pumps on that side and I had to be on the outside. Well, what do you know, the gas hose was too short to reach, but no big deal, there was ample space ahead to turn around and come back on the right side of the vehicle. That was when disaster struck. Jumping back into the driver's seat and turning the ignition key resulted in the horrible grinding, groaning, grating sound of a flat battery and since the alternator had been showing a steady flat battery and since the alternator had been showing a steady charge all the way from Vancouver, I knew the battery had not been holding it and was dead. Happy days, and to compound my misery, the skies decided to open up and subjected us to the only rain we experienced throughout our three week trip and while it was only a shower, it was heavy. With my usual lack of foresight, I had picked a gas station that comprised three pumps outside a General Store with no hope of purchasing a replacement battery but the lady manageress calmed my fears, got on the "blower" and within five minutes her husband pulled up in front of me brandishing jumper cables. My admiration for her initiative was dulled somewhat when her husband mentioned that his cables had seen marathon service this season and I realised the phone calls were a fairly regular occurrence. I also realised that someone in the area was selling a lot of batteries. This turned out to be the local Les Schwab franchise in Tillamook to whom the husband directed us, so we backtracked and after a half hour delay were once again on our way, with the satisfying knowledge that at least that problem was taken care of. We were blissfully unaware that gremlins were busy at work on other parts of the electrical system.

Down through Lincoln City, Depoe Bay to Newport and South Beach with stops at the Devil's Punchbowl and numerous pull-outs to admire the coastline. Lunch break was at a small, attractive "day-use" park on the water's edge in a cove where we sat at a picnic table with our coffee and muffins watching two seals cavorting in the surf a few yards off the beach. They were, of course, searching for their own particular brand of muffin. We spent three delightful days at South Beach, enjoying the weather, the sea breezes and the almost deserted beaches where often, the only footprints in the sand were our own.

State campgrounds in Oregon, certainly along the coast road, are excellent. Often, all the sites have hook-ups although only a selected number have sewer connections. The parks are well planned, offer clean washrooms and showers and, while they do not provide the same sense of seclusion as do our own Provincial Parks, the low pines do offer a reasonable degree of privacy.

Once settled in, we quickly uncoupled the trailer and became free to roam. Lunch the following day was a change from the norm as we cruised back through the scenic lookouts to Depoe Bay where the "Chowder Bowl" serves the most delicious fresh crab. Afterwards, it was fascinating to stand on the bridge and watch the small fishing boats challenge the incoming rollers in order to gain access to the open sea, and the incoming boats jockey for position and then gun their motors to swoosh in ahead of the surf, the "game" being all the more exciting since the harbour entrance can be no more than twenty five feet wide, between rocky points. Depoe Bay claims to be the smallest harbour in the world, but knowing some in Cornwall and Scotland, in particular, we wonder. While watching the displays of seamanship we suddenly became aware of whale spouts, but these were travelling North!! We concluded that they were taking time out for lunch on their way South. We were later to see a pod(?) of Pacific Greys feeding in the bay right below us at Otter Crest lookout. It is surprising how long one can just stand and watch these enormous, but gentle creatures.

From Newport we travelled further south to Reedsport, where we stayed another two nights above Winchester Bay in the Umpqua Lighthouse State Park where we ploughed across the dunes and again walked for miles on the beach and gazed at the everchanging ocean.

It was time to head inland so we backtracked into Reedsport and followed Route 38 up through Elkton to Southerlin and then the secondary roads through Wilbur to Glide where we picked up Route 138, taking us all the way into Crater Lake National Park. This is a beautifully scenic route following the Umpqua River all the way to Diamond Lake, a few miles outside the park entrance. It is also a gentle climb since it starts at sea level and rises to the crater rim at 7600 feet.

After settling in at the attractive and well laid out campsite, we again uncoupled the trailer in readiness for our circum-navigation of the rim the following day. While the campsite was quiet and comfortable, it was the only one we encountered in Oregon that had no hook-ups.

It takes four or five hours to go around the rim road and the lake is a fascinating sight from all points of the compass. We parked at one pull-out and hiked up the "Watchman" which is a fire lookout on one of the highest peaks. The path up ascends some 425 feet above the road and the notice stated it was a forty minute round trip. Thirty minutes up and ten down.! and well worth the effort as the 360 degree view was magnificent. It must have been a hundred miles in all directions, apart from looking down on the lake some two thousand feet below. The lake is almost circular with a six mile diameter and having a maximum depth of almost two thousand feet. It was formed when Mount Mazuma erupted some 7700 years ago and what a terrifying experience it must have been for the "locals" who survived. It is estimated that the top five thousand feet were blown off with the ash covering five thousand square miles to a depth of six inches. It must have made Mount St. Helens' eruption seem like a puny campfire!

While we climbed the Watchman we commented to each other about the instability of a lot of the rock formations with many overhanging boulders about ready to topple and conjectured on the effect of an earthquake. We had no idea just how prophetic we were being and imagine our amazement several days later when we were safely back on the coast and heard on the radio of the quake in Southern Oregon - 5.7 on the Richter Scale, later upgraded to 6.0. The epicentre was located North-West of Klamath Falls, only about thirty miles from where we had camped. We wondered just how many of those rocks had come down.

Well, as I said at the start, our plans went astray and we did not travel back up through the centre of Oregon but returned to the coast. Both Jean and I were raised in Cornwall with its rugged coastline, winter gales, golden beaches, and dunes, crashing surf and huge rollers that pound the cliffs, having travelled unhindered across the North Atlantic. Despite leaving all that behind, and "living by the sea" in Vancouver, we still miss that wild and beautiful coastline. Oregon comes close, but is on a much grander scale which is not surprising when on realises that the whole of the United Kingdom, with its fifty six million people, can fit into the State of Oregon with a few square miles to spare. Incidentally, while checking this out, I was more than somewhat surprised to find that the States of Washington, Oregon and California can all easily be accommodated within B.C., again with thousands of square miles to spare. What a vast province we live in.

And so we returned to the coast, leaving the Columbia Gorge for another trip. Back to Glide and then through Roseberg and Coquille to Bandon where we stayed two nights at Bullards Beach State Park. Just outside Roseberg, as we were passing through Winston, those miserable little gremlins had their fun again. I suddenly became aware that the alternator, which had consistently been showing a steady charge, was now indicating a discharge and I suspected it was faulty. We were not in any imminent danger of "konking out" but the battery would not last forever so we pulled into the curb to consider our options. To our surprise, for once I lucked out - we had stopped outside an auto repair shop. Our appreciation went out to their staff who downed tools and gave us immediate attention. A check on the battery charge determined that "yes" the alternator and voltage regulator which, I suspect, was also faulty since we had been experiencing problems with the trailer battery charging. We were all the more appreciative of the mechanics since, not only did they retain and dispose of the faulty equipment but also retained the pesky gremlins since the remainder of our trip was trouble free.

We arrived at the campsite again on a Friday afternoon to find it filling rapidly but chatting to the park ranger we learned it was more a seasonal than a weekend problem. It was the height of the salmon and crab fishing season and most campers were fishermen who had been there all week. We found that out at 5:30 a.m. when they all moved out towing their boats.

Again we roamed the beaches, visiting some old haunts from our previous visit some ten years ago, watching in fascination at the seals in the surf and the diving birds that never failed to come up with a fish in their beaks. The crab season was illustrated by the hundreds of crab shells that littered sections of all the beaches we roamed. The gulls grabbed them in the shallow water as they scurried back out to sea on the outgoing tide. The gulls flipped them over on the beach and pecked away at the soft underbelly while the crab was helpless on its back. We were amazed at the number and size as most were within a four to nine inch span.

From Bandon we wended our way back up the coast with another two night stopover at South Beach and our final three nights on the coast at a very pleasant state park at Nehalem Bay, close Manzanita, some thirty miles north of Tillamook. While walking on the beach here we came across an unusual fish, washed up by the tide, and not long expired. It was slender, about four and a half feet long with a long pointed snout and having long wicked needle-like teeth. It looked a voracious thing and my first impression was that it was a barracuda, but they are tropical, or semi-tropical fish and would not normally be found so far north, but with El Nino, perhaps it is possible. I revised my ideas and thought it could be a large pike, but a local fisherman told me they were not found thereabouts. I will probably never know what it was, but I do know I would not have wished to encounter it while out swimming.

While in the campground I had an interesting conversation with a young oil company executive from Calgary who has spent considerable time in Europe. It appears that despite our complaints over taxes, we do not appreciate how good we have it. He told me that the purchase tax on a new car in Holland was 80% and 56% in Denmark! A bottle of beer costs $6.00 in Norway! (I trust our finance minister is not an R.V. Times subscriber and reads that).

And so we left the coast, again taking to the country roads through Mohler to Necanicum, some thirty miles of almost continuous S-bends but very scenic and interesting. Through Jewell, Mist and Clatskaine to Rainier, recrossing the Columbia and reacquainting ourselves with the campground at Castle Rock. Next morning we set out intending to make a stopover at Puyallop and accordingly exited the I-5 to pass through Morton, then north through Elbe, La Grande and Graham. Some great views of Mount Rainier along this route, and so to Puyallop, but it was now Saturday noon and we were in very heavy traffic. Not knowing the district, or just where the campground was, we decided to forego the stopover and make for the border, thus breaking our daily mileage limit. We had intended stopping in the Blaine area on Sunday night and crossing the border early next morning but had second thoughts and spent the night comfortably in the KOA at Lyndon, and crossed at Huntingdon early on Sunday morning. Expecting a delay, we were pleasantly surprised to find we were the only vehicle crossing at the time and we were back home in time for lunch, having had nineteen wonderful days in perfect weather conditions.