Mid October has been a magical time for us to be on the road. Often a high pressure builds over the whole Western US and extends into the Pacific Northwest, bringing sunshine, crisp dry air, endless visibility, along with fall colors and of course fewer folks to have to share it with. Many of our best trips in the Dodge Chinook were in October.
But about ten years ago, when we set out to explore Oregon’s eastern half in the Chinook, the weather turned bad and the trip was foreshortened. So when another high pressure appeared recently, we decided to hit the road in the Promaster van, even though it’s not completely finished. This time the weather held; in fact it was the mildest, clearest October weather in my memory. Time to head to Eastern Oregon.
A caveat: I wasn’t planning to document this trip in detail, and so I didn’t take a lot of pictures. I’ve never been a big nature photographer, and big landscapes are not an iphone’s forte. I took some after the first day or so, but I’ll augment from the web in a few cases.
Google maps stupidly won’t allow more than 10 destinations, so I need to break it down into three maps. We didn’t leave Eugene until about 3PM on Friday, so our destination was the Ochoco Mountains, where camping would be readily available off any US Forest Road. After crossing the Cascades and stopping for dinner at Prineville, it was dark by the time we hit the Ochoco Natl. Forest. But a few miles down a gravel road I found a very suitable pull-off in the deep woods, in utter solitude.
from the web
As I stepped out the back door of the van, I was almost overcome by the moonless night sky. One just forgets what it can look like under the right conditions: high altitude and no light pollution combined with the clear dry air. This is why we come here.
This shot from the web of the area gives a good idea of the pine forests and clear rivers in the Ochocos in the daytime. Little Man was excited to get out and start chasing squirrels.
We entered the John Day River valley, with its green banks and layer-cake bluffs (from the web).
Our next stop was Sumpter, home of the Sumpter Valley Railroad and the Sumpter Dredge. The last time I was here was back in the spring of ’95, when my older son Ted and I made our first exploratory trip of Eastern Oregon. The timing of our arrival was perfect, as two of the railroad’s steam trains were in full steam and getting ready to depart on a fan excursion (the normal season ends in September).
This 3′ narrow gauge railroad was once part of an extensive line from Baker City to Prairie City, hauling mainly timber, but abandoned in the 1940s. In the early 1970s, fans started rebuilding a 5 mile stretch from Sumpter, and finding any remaining locomotives and rolling stock. This is their 40 ton Heisler, which once ran on the Sumpter and was built in 1915.
This is a geared engine, as was common on steep logging railroads. The two cylinders, are in a vee formation, and one can be seen clearly in this shot.
They are joined at a common crankcase in the center of the engine, and then driveshafts connect it to the two trucks, one in front and one in back. This gearing allows for maximum tractive force, but of course means speeds are modest, at best.
A bit further down the tracks one of the lines two “Mikado” 2-8-2 conventional locos was ready to roll too.
It had a couple of freight cars and a water tank, presumably for the engines.
I shot a short video of the Heisler as it clattered by.
And here I’m being shot while shooting. I do love me some old vintage steamers.
The Sumpter dredge is an interesting relic too. It’s a meadow-eating monster, literally. These gold-digger dredges were assembled from parts brought in by the railroad. This was the last of several, built in 1923 and operating until 1954.
Its bucket brigade on the front end was swung back and forth in the wide river valley’s meadows, sending the gravel under the meadow’s surface into the gold-separating machinery inside. The dredge created its own pond as it excavated the meadows, and thus stayed afloat, barely.
Here’s some of the machinery inside. It was operated by several electric motors, via cables. The dedicated hydro generating plant was 19 miles away upriver in Granite.
And the “bathroom”, which hung out over its sides.
The tailings were spit out the back at the end of this auger. The piles in the background are a tiny sample of what its many decades of work left behind: a five mile wide river valley of these rock piles. But it was operated profitably until 1954.
Granite, Oregon is another former boom town that became a ghost town and is now coming back to life, with a growing population, city escapees, undoubtedly.
From Granite we took the Elkhorn Scenic Byway, which first heads north than back to the east. I have a hard time remembering seeing one other car, but the views were superb, as this road goes over 7,000 feet high. Which led to our (and the van’s) first encounter with snow, the remnants of the first of the season that fell the previous week. On some shady uphill sections, the snow and ice still covered the whole road, and I was beginning to wonder if it would get worse and we might have some difficulty in making it up to the top. It was the first time—but not the last—where I began to wonder if not having 4WD was going to be missed in this van (it’s not available on the Promaster).
(from the web)
We could see the Wallowa Mountains in the distance, our next destination. The Wallowas are different from the volcanoes in the cascade range; they are a tight clump of rugged mountains and are totally in a wilderness zone. That makes access to their peaks and interior regions more difficult.
We spent the night off a forest road on the west slopes of the Wallowas.
That means backpacking is generally required to get deep into the Eagle’s Cap area, but we were hoping to make a few of the day hikes that would at least get us close. But that snow, which fell down to about 5-6 thousand feet, made that unrealistic.
I did find one hike in the guide book up to a meadow that topped out at about 5,700 feet that looked doable. We hit some snow near the top, in the shady areas.
But the huge meadow was snow-free and it was very mild up there. The larches were turning, adding to the fall color. Larch trees are essentially deciduous conifers, that shed their needles every year.
There’s lots of old cars, trucks and tractors out here, since the dry air keeps things from rusting away. I didn’t stop much, but these two pickups in Medicine Springs got my to take a quick one. I stop for Studebakers.
After our hike we headed north and then east to the little town of Enterprise, where Stephanie caught a sign for the Terminal Gravity Brewery (formerly East Fork Brewery), to get some dinner which came with some unexpectedly-good live music.
It was late by the time we pulled into the near-deserted campground at far end of Wallowa Lake, our only formal campground night of the trip. But the hot showers were welcome. I shot this as we were leaving, after a short hike up into the gorge above the lake.
It was hard to leave this pristine lake and surrounding mountains, but there were no long hikes open to us from this location. So we looked back up at what might have been. Next time.
We now headed east then south, on the eastern flanks of the Wallowas, the Hell’s Canyon Scenic Byway. From this overlook we could see deep into the gorge created by the Snake River. It was a long but highly scenic drive, and then after a brief stop in Halfway, OR. we headed back east, towards Prairie City, retracing our former route in part.
We were headed for Burns, but instead of staying on the highways I found back roads that cut around the south side of the Strawberry Mountain Wilderness. It too wore a snow cap (not as much as this shot from the web), making Strawberry Mt. look like it had been dipped in white chocolate.
In the back side, I found a sign to Malheur Ford, which was seven miles down a rough gravel road. I remembered reading about a hike along the Malheur River that starts here, but it turns out we took the rood to the other side of the ford. I took my shoes off to test the water; it was about halfway up my calves, and there was a nice flat bed of gravel. I was tempted to take the van across.
Then I thought the better of it. The gravel bottom was rather soft. Did I really want to risk getting the new van stuck here in the middle of nowhere, with no signs of humanity anywhere? With no cell coverage? No. Ten years earlier, I might well have gone for it, as the Dodge Chinook had dual rear tires and had excellent traction. But then I had paid all of $1200 for it, and had always been willing to leave it behind in my many off-roading escapades with it. And as this video of the same ford shows, even off-road capable bikes aren’t guaranteed a sure crossing.
(web photo)
I wasn’t quite ready to feel the same way with the new van. So we took our shoes off and forded the river on foot, and had a superb hike along this remote stretch of the Malheur River.
That was followed by the obligatory afternoon tea. And some vitamin D therapy.
Here’s the second map that will cover most of the rest of the trip starting with Burns, except the final drive back home.
We gassed up in Burns and headed south towards the Malheur Wildlife Refuge. Along the way we encountered a not uncommon sight,, when the cows take over the highway. In this case, they were being herded. Little Man was pretty excited about this.
We weren’t actually headed for the Preserve, but a very remote hot springs that my son Ted and I had first found in ’96, and one we had been back to ten years ago. It’s in the middle of nowhere, south of Harney Lake, which is an ancient dry lake bed that only gets water during a very wet spell if Malheur lake spills over. Keep in mind that this area is the norther end of the Great Basin (mostly in Nevada), which has no outlet to the sea. So all the river and creeks run into dead-end valleys that result in giant dry lakes that have some water depending on conditions.
We arrived at the hot spring at sunset, later than hoped for, as I stupidly tried to reach it from a northern “overland” (semi-off road) approach instead of the more direct one from the south. The result was some 10-12 miles of the most primitive “road” (rutted tracks) of a very soft and spongy salt-sand mixture. That made the ride over the ruts and holes softer than one would expect, but it also made me nervous about losing traction.
But we made it, obviously, and shortly after this picture was taken, we were sitting in the little mud pool that has been dug out just past the reeds, where the 180 degree water first comes out of the ground. The pool is far enough away to cool down, but it was about as hot as we could take (106 or so), but it did result in a very soothing soak. The stars were intense despite the moon now making its presence felt more every night.
I hopped back in the morning, and it had cooled a bit overnight. The bottom of the pool is very soft and silty.
After the soak, the dog and I trotted up to the top of the little hill right next to the springs. There’s the van down there, and the springs where they emerge to the left of it. The soaking pool to the far end of that area.
I turned to the northeast, and shot this of the vast expanse of Harney Lake’s dry bed. it’s part of the Malheur Wildlife Preserve, so one can’t drive on it. It is rather soft and spongy in many parts, unlike some lake beds.
After a visit to the Wildlife Preserve Visitor’s center and Museum, we headed south to Steens Mountain, a long single range that reaches to almost 10,000′. It too had snow on the top, although not as much as in this web picture. We wondered if we would again not be able to drive to the summit on the Steens Mt. Loop as was the case when we were here ten years ago. The 50 mile gravel road that approaches from the gentler west side, and since it was so mild, the modest first snow had melted enough to have the gate open.
This was from a stop looking up one of the glacier-carved valleys. The white summit can be seen at top. As is the case with all outdoor scenery shots, the lens on the iphone makes everything seem further away.
On the way up, we stopped to hike into the Dillard Ranch, where three bachelor brother ranched and lived, the last one into the 1940s or so. They each had their own cabin. This is one of them.
The door is open, and it’s been preserved the way it was. The brothers used to have disagreements about their respective cooking, as they did have dinner together. I can just imagine that.
The views from Steen’s summit were as spectacular as they possibly could be, given the dry, clear air. The visibility extended perhaps some 100 miles in every direction.
This is the view down to the valley on the cliffs of the eastern side, some 6,000′ almost straight down. That round thing is an irrigated field. The white areas are dry lake beds. That’s Idaho not far off.
And a bit more to the southeast, the huge dry bed of Lake Alvord, generally called the Alvord Desert, is clearly visible. That was our next destination, to camp on the lake bed (“playa”)
To the northwest one can see where we came from, the Malheur-Harney basin. And I could barely make out the Wallowas in the very far distance, on the horizon. And of course, there’s the van, all alone in the parking lot.
What was most remarkable is that it was perfectly calm up there, almost 10,00 feet up, and the temperatures were well into the 50s. Downright balmy. Steens Mt. is known for its wind, but this late-season high pressure made it utterly serene. We had our tea and a nap up there, all alone on top of the world. Or at least Oregon.
Distances out here are invariably long; it’s a pretty good drive back down, and then all the way to Fields, OR., near the Nevada line, before one can turn north again to head up the eastern side of Steens. We stopped for another soak, at the Alvord Hot Springs. When we were last here, one just parked on the road and walked down a path to this little double pool, one open for the views, and one enclosed on its sides by some steel roofing material (for wind protection). But now it’s accessed via a path from a parking lot which includes a groundskeeper and involves paying $8. Even this corner of the world is not immune to development. This is not my shot, as I never bring out a camera in these clothing-optional hot springs, plus it was getting dark when we got there.
After a good soak, we drove the van out into the lake bed, which is very firm. I didn’t see any other lights out on the playa, so I just drove straight out towards the middle and stopped. By the way, the Alvord Desert is Oregon’s dryest spot, with some 6″ of rain per year.
We had a late dinner and then read before turning in. Little Man was enjoying the last bit of time on my bed before he and his bed were consigned to the floor. But he got to keep his tartan blanket. We don’t run the furnace at night, and it does get a bit chilly. The night time temperatures were between 19 and 30 degrees. But the furnace gets turned on in the morning, as an inducement for Stephanie to crawl out from under her mound of blankets and quilts.
While the van warms up, I take the dog out for a morning walk and pee. But here he wouldn’t go! He walked around in several circles around the van, pulling me along, looking in vain for a bush to pee on. He must have thought the hard lake bed was an interior floor or such. As soon as we had breakfast, we headed back to the scrub desert at the edge, and let him out. He made a grateful beeline to the first sagebrush bush.
That’s the summit of Steens back there, from where we looked down on the Alvord Desert the previous afternoon. A couple drove down on the lakebed in their CUV, and proceeded to let loose and drive it very fast off into the distance, and then we saw them coming back, and then forth, and then back again, kicking up a little rooster tail of dust. I imagine some folks have never really experienced driving fast before. Ironically, I had no such impulse; the roads are more stimulating and challenging for me to drive fast on, in the right vehicle. I actually drive very relaxed in the ProMaster, you might be surprised to know. I only exceeded 65 once briefly, even on the endless stretches of remote roads and highways we took.
The scenery is always great, and the huge windshield and high thrones in the Promaster make for an endless movie. Who’s in a hurry anyway?
Our next destination was Hart Mountain National Antelope Preserve, the next big mountain range west of Steens. I’ve never been there, and long wanted to, and it exceeded our expectations. There is a rough back road from Steens to Hart Mt., and it would have taken us to the historic Shirk Ranch, but when I saw the beginning of it, it looked pretty rocky and I just didn’t have the stomach for that much risk. It’s some 30 miles of variable, slow going (this web picture is not of that road).
Yes, we saw lots of prong-horn antelopes, but this is not my picture. They are the fastest land animals in North America, with a top speed of 60mph. They evolved that capability because there were once cheetahs in this part of the world; now they have no predators that could even hope to catch them.
(web photo)
We drove the gravel road down the west side of Hart. Mt., and then pulls up steeply to enter the valley behind it in its east side. Tucked in back there is the (free) Hot Springs Campground, which is of course primitive and very spread out. The main attraction in addition to the superb scenery is the hot spring, which can be enjoyed in this walled in pool or a natural one nearby. It wasn’t terribly hot (about 102 F) but that made sitting in it for long periods of time and socializing with the one other visitor (and a group of back-road motorcyclists in the morning) pleasant and un-rushed.
We hiked part-way up the east side of Hart. Mt. to the Bernardini cabin, which is unfortunately in decline, since the roof is caving in. A few steel roofing panels would have staved that off.
As we were leaving in the morning we pulled off the main gravel road and took this reasonably decent back road to Petroglyph Lake. Central and Eastern Oregon’s population density is extremely, and paved roads/highways are limited. But there is avast network of old roads comparable to this one that crisscross the back country. They were built to access remote ranches, or were old military or stage line roads. Their condition varies considerably depending on the geology, weather and amount of use. As “overlanding” has become more popular, their condition is getting worse, as 4WD vehicles make ever-deeper ruts during the wet season. I’m not complaining, but it’s just a reality.
After hiking to the other side where there are some exposed basalt outcroppings, we took in the numerous ancient petroglyphs that were scratched into the rocks some thousands of years ago.
Alien visitors?
We drove home the rest of the way that day, through the towns of Plush and Paisley, among others. And we actually didn’t stop at the Summer Lake Hot Springs, as it was so warm during the day down in the valley. The scenery was great the whole time, but I’m going to spare you anymore of that.
The van performed as well as the weather did. Despite numerous steep mountains and plenty of slow bumpy back roads, it averaged an indicated 18.1 mpg for the 1717 miles we covered. As noted earlier, I drove in a relatively relaxed fashion, and didn’t push it hard up the long grades. It will hold a pretty decent speed up the steep ones at 45mph or so, with about 2000 rpm showing (5th gear). I could make it go faster in a lower gear and more throttle, but I was surprised at how much grunt (torque) the 3.6 Pentastar V6 makes at that engine speed. I haven’t yet weighed the van fully loaded, but to has to be somewhere around 6500 lbs or more, as it weighs just under 5000 lbs empty.
In regards to the oft-maligned Chrysler 6 speed automatic, I have only a few issues. The chief complaint seems to be its logic in choosing gears. I suspect that with the heavier weight of the Promaster and its lower gearing, that seems to be less of an issue. Also, I don’t drive it on the types of conditions most folks would spend driving a minivan. My main complaint is that on long downgrades, it’s a bit too aggressive in wanting to keep the speed from increasing, meaning it will shift down one or two gears to maintain the speed it had before cresting a hill. But thta’s not how I prefer to drive in hilly/mountainous roads. I prefer to let it slow down some on the upgrades, but then use gravity to go faster downhill. meaning, not like it would be if the cruise control was set, but more in terms of responding to the conditions. I’m used to an automatic quickly upshifting when I let up on the gas pedal; this one won’t. I have to actually give it more gas, to tell it that I want to go faster, before it will upshift.
And that is the case even if I use the “manual” shifter, which isn’t really all so manual, as it will keep the same gear too under these circumstances. All it really does is keep it from upshifting on flatter terrain, or provide more aggressive engine braking if I want that, although that’s now hardly ever needed. It’s a bit too “automatic” in this regard.
Every surface of the van’s interior had a coating of that very fine dust which works itself in through the smallest cracks. But it’s all cleaned up and ready for…the next good weather break.
Wow, what an awesome trip. I enjoyed the read. You’re pictures were nice too. Thanks for sharing.
Great write up – really enjoyed reading!
Stunning countryside, and I’m glad you had such a good trip. Having just drowned my van on a flooded road, I’m also very happy you didn’t try to ford that river. Love the travel journals; keep ’em coming!
An enjoyable ride-along. These sparsely populated areas are really interesting to someone who lives east of the Mississippi.
It is good that the Promaster is working well for you. I had not realized that the Chinook was as expendable as it evidently was. As you note, life will be different now that you have entered the “no camper left behind” phase.
It’s value had long dropped below the cost of a long tow. I started making this contingency plan when it threatened to die on me on our last big trip to Glacier. It turned out to just be a plugged fuel filter.
BTW, it will be leaving casa Niedermeyer in the next couple of days (under its own steam), having found someone willing to take it on. It started right up once I replaced the section of rubber fuel line coming out of the gas tank that had been chewed through by some small rodent.
Wouldn’t the Park Service run the VIN number and call you to tow it out anyway? The Park Service is deep and patrols hard and often in the state parks around the East Coast.
Beautiful trip, wonderful writeup. Thank you!
In pilot-speak, “Clear and unlimited.” In every respect. Thanks for taking us along, will have to put this area on our “to visit one day” list.
I too find the New Yorker great bedtime reading. In this case, I see you’re reading about Yan Lianke, the Chinese writer. I’m on the same issue but because I start from the back and move forward, I haven’t gotten to this article yet.
Just in case anyone wants to see the cartoon on that page, I have pasted it below.
New Yorker humor is often an acquired taste.
(from the New Yorker Oct 15th 2018 Issue)
Good noticing!
The article about Yan was very fascinating, because it opens another window into the many contradictions about China, which I find endlessly fascinating.The New Yorker has covered China most excellently over the past 10-15 years, and this one adds some new dimensions. Yan’s books are unofficially banned in China, yet he’s a celebrity and the government tolerates him (so far). He manages to expose the foibles of China and the Communists without getting on their wrong side. He’s still a member of the party, actually.
I highly recommend the New Yorker to anyone who wants to experience serious journalism, of the kind that’s hardly ever practiced anymore. My mind has been well nourished by my steady diet of its contents at bedtime.
I too am a very longtime New Yorker reader, mainly at bedtime. It’s always a treat to get a fresh dose of features and cartoons every week. Especially when there’s something new by Bruce McCall.
At first I thought that this was the cover showing a well-known former federal employee being dragged down the airplane .aisle
Beautiful scenery and free hot springs… what’s not to like?
Also The Atlantic, and Vanity Fair, if you can ignore the conspicuous consumerisim and Hollywood obsession. However it was the last place Christopher Hitchens was regularly published so it can be worth overlooking the extraneous stuff.
Whenever I see a New Yorker cartoon, I can’t help but think, “Christ, what an asshole!”
https://news.avclub.com/there-are-3-captions-that-work-with-every-new-yorker-ca-1798284651
Wow, what a trip. And that’s just the warmup.
Living near the edge of the densely populated Greater Toronto Area the amount of solitude and wide open space you experienced is very compelling indeed. The whole boondocking thing is very foreign to me, are all these great spots the result of years of previous exploration, or is there free camping to be had anywhere if you know what to look for?
Yes, it really is very different out here. 🙂
And don’t take this the wrong way, but after my mother passes, I don’t see myself being east of the Rockies again. Which means any CC meet-ups will have to be out in the West!
The lands in the great open areas of the west are either privately or publicly owned. It all started out being publicly owned (once the pesky natives got that through their heads). Obviously the better land, usable for ranching, was homesteaded/claimed/bought, and is now private. But the land that was useless for ranching (very dry or higher elevation woods/mountains) was never homesteaded. So huge areas are either BLM land (Bureau of Land Management) typically the desert/scrub/very dry land, or National Forests (above 5,000′ and forested). One can legally camp anywhere on BLM or National Forest land unless an area is specifically posted as a no-camping area (sensitive area, etc.)
So yes, one just heads for the nearest National Forest or BLM land and finds a nice spot. Or there are many primitive campgrounds on these lands, which in October are totally deserted, but have very clean outhouses. And a level place to park.
The attached map shows all the different public lands in Oregon. As you can see, it’s a major portion of this quite big state. Eastern Oregon is one of the least populated areas in the country. It’s all ranches and a few small towns. And a lot of ranching (cattle grazing) takes place on public lands that are leased. One runs into cows just about everywhere, except in the higher elevations or where it’s just too dry.
Very cool. Only a few years till empty nest, and hopefully more time for this sort of thing…
And I’m only slightly insulted you don’t want to visit the GTA 😉
GTA? Is that where the sporty versions of the Renault Alliance hangs out in TO?
Not exactly. The GTA is otherwise known as “Torana, the centre of the known universe”.
For Canadians of a certain age, it was immortalized (and made official in lingo speak) by the Kings in their 1980 hit “This beat goes on/switching to glide” in which the lyrics say: “You said to ring you up when I was in Toronto”, but its pronounced Torana.
That out of the way, get out of the GTA and without going far you will find yourself in immense nothingness. As in Manitoulin Island nothingness, or anything in the vicinity of Lake Superior. But closer (way closer) the Oak Ridge Moraine trail is pretty interesting, and you will find the coffee shop saturation is much less.
Hey, I drove my very first Dodge van (’68 A100) that I converted to a camper to Toronto in the summer of 1976! Under circumstance I’d rather forget: we were heading back to Iowa City from a trip to NYC and my sort-of GF asked if we could detour to Toronto so she could see an old friend. I didn’t tumble to the fact that her former BF lived in Toronto until we got back home. I enjoyed sitting on the beach at the big lake while she visited her “friend”.
But it’s a nice city, or it was so in 1976. I’m not very much into visiting big cities anymore.
I too love the West, in the ’70s we regularly camped in Montana, the Dakotas, and western Colorado, but to totally eliminate the Adirondacks, Vermont, Maine, Quebec, the Smokies &c as worthy places to visit seems rather a shame! Vive la difference!
I’ve been to them, more than once. I used to live in the East. These are all beautiful places. My problem is with the huge cities, humidity and mosquitoes. And of course all the people. I prefer solitude.
Solitude. I hear you and agree.
And GTA urban sprawl continues. Where I used to be able to drive due north to be in the country on the way to the Forks of the Credit River, in about 10 minutes, now I have to detour west to accomplish that. There will be continued encroachment toward the Greenbelt for the forseeable future. And roads do not keep up with demand either. 🙁
Sounds like an excellent road trip Paul. A trip out west is on my bucket list.
Right now I’m “sort of tied” to the Eastern fringes of the GTA..Yeah 15 minutes gets me out to the Oak Ridge moraine . An hour gets me into some beautiful windy twisting roads, in the lower part of the Canadian shield.
Great trip, very much what my parents would have done back in the day, first in the VW van with very homebuilt camper accessories and later in a Dodge van. They tended to hit every Hot Springs they could find too. It’s theoretically possible you’ve actually all been in the same hot pool together at some point in some place on the West Coast. 🙂
My preferred fleece jacket (where is he going with this?) is the Columbia Steens Mountain, while I idly always figured it was named after a piece of Oregon geology/geography, I didn’t think I would ever actually see pictures of that here on CC…
It’s funny how some vehicles naturally push one to rush and drive at speed and others just somehow make one willingly back off but yet are no less enjoyable in their own way. I’ve noticed the same in several over the years. At slower speeds I’m not surprised the 6-speed is decent, it’s not like you are rushing to get over the mountains in a likely similarly heavy/loaded up minivan in time for Christmas with 1100 miles to go and other eager traffic all around you. Better to just let it do its thing and go along for the ride than to pretend to be the lead jockey at the Belmont Stakes main event and keep whipping on that horse…
I’m on a totally different headspace when I’m zipping along at 100+ in the car across in these places than when I’m in the camper. It’s a completely different experience for me. Driving the Chinook and this van is a bit like being in a sailboat versus a speedboat. I like both!
Breathtaking scenery, Paul. I need to add Oregon to my bucket list of destinations. And seeing the night sky where there’s no light pollution is always nice. It’s tough being an amateur astronomer in a light polluted suburb.
Thanks for the travelogue. I’ve been looking forward to it.
Regarding the van, could it simply be that your transmission has not learned you yet? I thought most of today’s automatics get used to how an owner drives their car, and will adjust the shift points accordingly. Most of my cars since the nineties have been (or at least seemed) that way.
I think the degree that these modern automatics “learn” is somewhat limited. It’s not going to substantially change its personality, I’m afraid. They’re a bit like children that way. 🙂
Thanks for sharing your latest travels, though I probably shouldn’t say I’m jealous. Oops, I just did. The west coast weather has certainly made for a nice autumn, really Indian Summer at times. We just got away for a short weekend in the Sierras two weeks ago, but I’m recovering from some minor surgery which means no hot springs for a few more weeks, and by then winter may be here. Fortunately our daughter in Oregon has taken a few long weekends east of the Cascades and has sent some pictures to help me enjoy it vicariously.
Glad to hear the ProMaster is working out well; it’s good to be conservative but as long as high-centering or drowning the intake or sensitive electronics aren’t likely, a 4 wheeled vehicle is a lot better for stream crossings than a 2 wheeler. As you can see in the video, all it takes is one larger and/or slimy rock to kick out the front wheel and SPLASH! Since stream crossings (not necessarily the exit bank) are usually pretty level 4wd isn’t needed.
Your description of the Ram 6 speed seems similar to my Toyota Tacoma’s. It works well most of the time, but doesn’t match my driving style on rolling curvy backroads, sometimes holding a lower gear longer, or upshifting earlier, than needed for fuel-efficient and quiet low-rpm “flow” through hilly country. Of course, that’s where a manual shines for me.
What made me nervous was that the gravel on the bottom felt so un-firm to my feet, but that may just have been because of being in the water.
If this ford had been necessary to continue the trip, I would have gone for it. But it was very easy for us to just walk across in our flip-flops to the trail.
In other words, it was a case of risk management, and since there was very little upside and lots of potential downside, I made a conservative call, for a change. I must be getting old!
Very cool. Nice photos and a beautiful part of the continent. Glad you were able to experience this road trip before winter. The remoteness and beauty of that region is a huge advantage. I’m pleased to know it is so accessible for you.
Excellent read. Thanks for chronicling your adventure Paul. Little Man looks to be in peak physical condition.
Given that he just turned seven, he’s already a bit past his prime. We call him Middle Aged Man. 🙂
But he gets lots of exercise living with us.
Thank you Paul for the feature on a part of Oregon I’m not familiar with.
What a great trip. Perhaps when I’m visiting my daughter and her family in Redmond, WA I can take a side trip down to Oregon and head east into the desert out there. My wife is welcome to come along.
Go to Redmond, Oregon. It’s still a town, but about as different from Redmond, Washington as possible.
Great trip Paul, Theres some really cool places to visit out there, I’m liking that van you bought too though you have described why I dont like automatics all that much either in trucks or light vehicles, all the technology installed cant actually see out the windscreen and recognize where it is, LDV diesel vans are becoming common here and quite aggressively priced ( Chinese version of Iveco) not quite within my buying scope at present but your conversion is giving me ideas.
Beautiful Oregon! I’m in Colorado via some of those same roads. And the speed limit is 65! I must have missed that on the news. Here’s near Adel:
Nice shot! Looks mighty familiar.
We were out that way Labor Day weekend, although we only did the first leg. Despite over 2 decades in Oregon this was actually my first trip into Eastern Oregon.We had 3 days so we drove out to john Day with a long stop in the Painted Hills, followed by a day trip to Sumpter. We missed out on the Heisler since only the Mikado was running. Prairie City was a real surprise to me with both a spectacular view of the Strawberry Range and a lot more green than I expected. I’m accustomed to the more desert like landscape near Bend and Redmond.
Some of your trips are going to be on our list for next year, thanks for the travel guide, As a mountain biker I get sad whenever i see water filled ruts, since chewing up trails in the rainy season is a cardinal sin.
The amount of rain really varies. The mountains create the rain from the moisture in the air, and being near a mountain means more rain. Sisters get quite a bit more rain than Bend or Redmond for that reason.
What an amazing trip! I’m glad to see you’re enjoying the Promaster.
I won’t lie, modest overland travel capacity is a major part of my new car search (even though said car would have to fit in a tiny garage).
I’m 34 and I think about this stuff every day.
I hope it’s all still there by the time I can afford to do it.
No worries; it’ll still be here!
Thanks for sharing the trip log and photos Paul. What beautiful country! Many moons ago (38), after sophomore year in college, I drove cross country (from CT) in a nearly new Ford Econoline 100 (300 c.i. 6, 3 on the tree) and saw many similar vistas. It was a six week trip and we covered around 10,000 miles. Your trip log really brought me back. I plan to do it again when retired. We had insulated the van interior and did a decent job of paneling/upholstering. It was surprisingly comfortable to drive too. I also agree the New Yorker is a great read and I really love the cartoons.
Excellent report! What kind of dog is Little Man? He must have been in a hurry that morning to relieve himself!
American Bully, supposedly. We adopted him.
What do you do about fuel, out in the middle of nowhere? Does the van have a giant tank, or do you have extra cans around? Living in my built-up area, I’m never more than a couple miles from a gas station, but your pics make it look like you’re days away from “civilization”.
My wife grew up camping every time her parents have time off, so I’ve been doing a lot more of it these last few years. Are there traditional campgrounds with water and/or electric hook ups out your way? Conversely would a 20’ pull behind work at all where you went?
There are gas stations in the little towns scattered about. The ranchers that live out there depend on them, and there’s inevitably a bit of a store (depending on the size town). They can be as far as 80-90 miles apart, in the most extreme situation. And their hours are limited (8-6). So it’s not really a problem with a wee bit of planning. The Promaster has a 24 gal tank, and a 400+ mile range.
There a few bigger towns too, like Baker City, La Grande and Burns, but they’re on the major highways. Just because I didn’t show any pictures of towns doesn’t mean there aren’t any. But the population density in Eastern Oregon is about as low as it gets in the continental US.
There are many developed campgrounds, although not so many out in the more remote eastern part, as on federal land the campgrounds are more typical primitive (nice spots, but only water and an outhouse). The state parks are the ones that have the full-facility campgrounds. But there’s plenty of private RV parks too.
Folks tour this area with all kinds of rigs. Obviously some of the more remote and rough roads are not suitable, but one can easily avoid them and stay on the main roads, which are paved or well maintained gravel that any vehicle can easily utilize.
Excellent trip report, Paul! I had no idea that Oregon looked anything like that. I was expecting it to be covered in trees and very lush. I’d love to visit out there one day and doing it in something like your van would be the way to do it.
Central and Eastern Oregon are in the rain shadow of the Cascade Range. On the west side of the mountains, it’s much more lush, although it’s been getting drier there too.But even in Eastern Oregon there are pines above about 5000 feet, as the higher elevations catch more of the moisture streaming from the Pacific as it heads eastwards.
Oregon has some very diverse geography, flora and climate. Eastern Oregon is essentially an extension of Nevada, if that makes it easier to visualize, while the western part near the ocean is moister and lusher.
California is the same way: cool and relatively moist near the ocean, and increasingly drier inland, where there are vast desert areas too.
Thanks, Paul, for unselfishly taking all the time for the writeup and terrific mix of your photos with others’.
I still don’t think I’m the conversation-van type any more than I was in the 70s, but admire you for all you’ve done to make your Promaster serve your travel needs.
During my 1980s Idaho decade I did cross into eastern Oregon a bit, and these photos make me yearn for some time “somewhere west of Laramie” before too long.
BTW, newspaper people can measure article length by either words or “column inches,” and I wonder if this is one of the longest CC’s by the latter standard….
What a fantastic journey! I love how you are using that vehicle – it is living the life every RV should – not sitting around paved parking lot style RV parks.
I think my next year’s travels should take me out that way.
I keep forgetting just how beautiful Oregon is. Having most of the family and friends in California, we stay there, and so the last time I was in Oregon was 1984……spent two months with family (then) living in Reedsport, and did a lot of driving all over the state in a aunts Ford Fairmont futura. Great memories, but time to go back there I think.
A splendid trip, with a few of the towns I’ve actually been to! On our way to Bend in ’10, we took US 26 west from Vale, through John Day, all the way to Prineville; like you and Stephanie, we had dinner there. On the way back east we took US 20 with a stop in Burns.
Interestingly, the pamphlets at John Day gave one a choice of English or German.
You are quite correct in eastern Oregon being much different than the western part.
Great write up on what seems like a good trip. I’m guessing the camper part of the van performed as you’d hoped?
And from over here, i’m very envious of you having access to that sort of geography – something we Europeans find very hard to relate to, as such space in practically non existent here. Maybe Sweden could offer something like it, and perhaps a few areas in France and Spain, but the idea of doing 1700 miles and not seeing many people or traffic is not realistic.
I remember driving 480 miles from Alice Springs, Northern Territory, to Camoweal, Queensland, and for 400+ miles of that trip it was the Sandover “Highway” – rough dirt, meaning about 45-55 mph speeds. It took something like 18 hours. (On a map of Oz, think dead centre and 500 miles northeast).
We did not see another car the entire time.
And that trip is across country that is farmed, farmed in the sense that you’re driving through gigantic cattle stations (or ranches). It is a wonder (and a hard life) as to how they get those cattle to survive in country where the rivers run maybe once every 15 years.
And this is still not nearly as remote as other parts. One of my sisters once drove from the same starting point but north west, into the desert proper, where she worked briefly teaching at an Aboriginal settlement. On leaving, up north-west again, she and my then 10 y.o. niece drove for two full days and about 750 miles before hitting the main west-running road to Broome – where they saw their first car.
Paul, Stephanie, Thank you for sharing your adventure with us through Paul’s post.
I personally want to thank you for advising me to drive the 914 over the top of the Cascades into Oregon ‘s Great Basin region when I left Eugene. The beauty was “other worldly” and was an absolute treat, as you showed in this post. Eastern Oregon and the Great Basin in Nevada need to be on everyone’s bucket list. The route suggestions were spot on giving me a amazing experience and amazing visual treats.
I am certain that all of us in the CC universe will look forward to our future vicarious pleasures following the future “Travels with Little Big Man”. Your writing style is so entertaining, engaging, and for that we thank you. Cheers.
The pic is from my drive through Oregeon’s eastern Great Basin in May.
Warner Canyon! One of the most epic views in all the western US. Just drove through there a few weeks ago for the second time. An amazing place.
Thank you for sharing your trip with us. Although I lived in the San Francisco bay area for several years I have never been to Oregon. I find the scenery, etc. there to be very beautiful, not least because it is so different from what we have here in the eastern part of the country. One of the few things I miss from my National Guard days is being far enough from civilization to not see the glow of electric lights. There is something restorative about being far enough away from artificial lighting to be able to see the stars at night.
Thanks for this, which totally stumped me. I knew Oregon had a wet side and a dry side, I just did not know how DRY the dry side was. So cars don’t rust in Oregon, period, regardless where.
+1
The dry side is about 3 times as big as the wet side. 🙂
All of the West Coast is like this, Washington too, although their east side is a wee bit moister and thus much of it is wheat fields. The mountains in Oregon are what makes it dry out there, as the moisture in the air coming in from the Pacific rises over the mountains, which causes the water to condense and fall, leaving the air dry on the eastern side of the mountains.
I hope to someday go on a trip similar to this (except maybe not quite so far away from home) in the van of my choice. It would have been awesome to do it in my Aerostar, save for the potential risk of breaking down in the middle of nowhere & no one around who would have the correct parts for it. However, it DID have a 21-gallon fuel tank (the standard-length model had 17 like my current Ranger) so it could run for well over 400 miles with the average fuel economy I got with it before filling back up. Boy does 4 gallons make a difference! The Transit Connect’s fuel tank is no bigger (15.8 gallons) so that leaves me with the full-size Transit (25 gallons) in the smallest size possible if I want to go back to a Ford van that isn’t an Econoline (35 gallons!). With the way I normally drive, the low-roof Transit should easily get at least 20 mpg & that would guarantee a 500+-mile range. When the price & condition are right, I’m ready to make my move.
What a trip, and what variety of scenery. What vastness.
I do love the Heisler loco. There’s one called a Climax (made by a company of that name in Pennsylvania in the ’20’s) on Victoria’s Puffing Billy narrow-gauge tourist railway near Melbourne, on which the two cylinders are longtidunal angled on each side, and the “crank” part is outside: each drives the end of a central cross-shaft with a crown wheel which then sends power back to all four rear wheels AND forward to all four front! The gears are very noisy, and the top speed on the wood-only it burns is just 8mph, but it can pull an entire train up anything. We hired it for my train-nut dad’s 80th a few years ago, and he spent all day driving a small train of just family and friends along the gorgeous, green 15-mile hills track. Truly unforgettable.
There’s a dredge just like that one in the gold-sprinkled hills of north-west Victoria too, at the hopefully-named town of Eldorado, now largely abandoned. A massive, scary beast, it sits grumpily in it’s own pond too.
Do Americans go see America? There is such endless, astonishing magnificence on your own continent, yet quite a lot come here to marvel at, say, Uluru or the outback surrounding it, including the largest salt lakes in the world. Yes, the landscape is wondrous, it feels as ancient as a place for the world’s oldest continuous peoples should, (especially if you are brought up here and don’t “see” the dryness), the deserts especially have real, unexpected beauty (in winter, for non-Aborginal folk!) but it lacks entirely the spectacle and scale of natural America. We do not have endless ranges of snow-covered mountains, hell, we barely have water! It is, by comparison, away from the the thin band of coastal green, largely a harsh, worn and very hot place. When roaming around Aus 15-20 years ago, I was very struck by the number of Americans tourists who’d come here, all polite and decent people, but who had seen almost nothing of their home. Do they know it’s there? And I wonder if that has changed?
A reverie-inducing, and enlightening post, Mr N.
A link to the Climax loco for the train nuts:
https://puffingbilly.com.au/about/rolling-stock/locomotive-fleet/climax-1694/
Your comments are spot-on, as usual, especially about Americans exploring their own backyards instead of other places like Australia. That’s not to diminish the slightest the undoubtedly many attractions of Australia, or other parts of the world, but we do have an utterly amazing variety of things to see here. I could spend several lifetimes exploring Oregon in greater detail; this trip was too rushed and there’s so many things we missed.
From your descriptions, I think I would have a hard time driving 750 miles over flat land. That’s precisely why I left the Midwest of the US: I missed the mountains too much, having been born in them in Austria. Oregon has numerous mountain systems all over the state, from the coast range, the Cascades, and a number of smaller but very scenic ranges in the eastern area. It is precisely that constant interplay of desert and mountains that I so like, because the landscape is constantly changing. We never lost intense visual interest once on this trip; no music, no audio books, just eyes glued to the windshield.
But on the other hand, I’m not eager to have more folks show up here either. 🙂
I’m quite familiar with the Climax and the Shay geared steam engines, and have been up close to them and ridden behind them. They were used very extensively all over the West on the many little logging railroads the criss-crossed the forests and mountains. All of them send their power to all the axles; that’s essential. The Shay was the most popular, and even came in three-truck versions like the one below, where all six axles were powered. Unstoppable.
The one pictured below, at the Roaring Camp RR, was just about 20 minutes from our old place in Silicon Valley (Los Gatos, CA.) in the Santa Cruz Mountians, and spent its working years hauling out giant redwoods. Now it hauls tourists, including me and the kids, more than once.
Puffing Billy have a 2-cyl Shay made in Lima, Ohio, 100 years ago. (Mind you, that makes it a pup compared to locally built Baldwin-designed locos they use every single day of the year, which are closer to 120). It has just the four powered wheels, an ingenious beast. In their museum, it’s earmarked for restoring one day. In truth I’d suspect completion might be about in time for my 80th, but I can wait.
Justy, have to echo your sentiments there. We have a lot of natural beauty here in Australia but the US just has next-level variety. It’s funny though, I often hear it the other way around: that Americans travel more domestically than they do internationally.
I’ll admit though, I’m in a similar boat to those American tourists you encountered. I’ve seen a lot more of the US than I have of my own country. When it’s always a stone’s throw away, you’re much more likely to put it off. I’ve never been to Uluru or to the Great Barrier Reef, for example, when it would be so easy for me to go to either.
Paul, your travelogue further encourages me to spend more time on the West Coast. It’s not as though the rest of the US is lacking in great destinations but my travel interests seem to lead me to places like Oregon and Washington, as well as the desert Southwest.
I still have never gone to natural hot springs. Gotta cross that one off my list, regardless of what country they’re in.