MY RED-NECK CAMPING WEEKEND: Out Beyond Oakridge

A sign (or portent) of things to come?

My uncle Rico, brother Kip and I escaped from work early on a Friday and headed south as far as Eugene. Turning east, we made it as far as Oakridge before we found it necessary to stop for beer.

The Union Brewery features beer, of course, but also a menu uniquely accented with Spam entrees.

Curiously, there is a chart over the men’s urinal that details the thermodynamic conductivity of several types of wire…and Spam (surprisingly, Spam holds up pretty well).

Uncle Rico

Deb: Okay, turn you head on more of a slant... 

Deb: Now, make a fist. Slowly ease it up underneath your chin. 

Deb: This is looking really good. 

Kip: You can say that again. 

Deb: Kay, hold still right there. Now, just imagine you're weightless, in the middle of the ocean, surrounded by tiny little seahorses. 

Deb: [takes the picture] That was the one. I think that's gonna come out really nice. 

Uncle Rico: Ah, how you did it... wow... well I felt really relaxed. Thanks Deb. 

                                

Uncle Rico: You're up Kip. 

Kip

 Kip: Is there some kind of vest that I can wear? 

- Dialogue from Twentieth Century Fox’s movie, Napoleon Dynamite 

I thought it took a long time for our two vehicle convoy to span the distance from Portland to Oakridge, but (long, long after sunset) when Uncle Rico finally found the turn-off to his little known campsite, it all paled into insignificance as Kip and I followed Rico's Jeep down overgrown forest service roads laid out in what I’ll generously describe as a diabolical labyrinth.  Scrubby moth infested pines loomed out of the darkness, reaching car-ward with menacing, abrasive branches…as if we had entered a car wash from hell.

Gratuitous giant bonfire

The milky way  (~4 minute exposure)

Morning revealed that we were camped next to a vast alpine marsh, though not so marshy at this time of year.

The water was cold and clear and beneath the surface a whole world danced and undulated in concert with the current.

Kip kept peering into the water and claiming to see big fish. Uncle Rico could see them too…and then to prove it, would catch them. But I never saw any until Rico reeled them out of the water. “You can’t see the fish so much as you can see their shadows.” Kip explained to me.

Here and there, archipelagos of drowned trees testified to former high water levels.

A fence at a bend in the creek seems poorly placed.

The underwater ballet can be hypnotizing 

Kip, practicing to be a cage fighter, refines his sense of balance.

scott and his trusty Tsunami      photo by Kip (all rights reserved)

It amazes me how big these bullets are.

If you were being attacked by a zombie who was trying to throw a propane tank at you, would you aim at the zombie or the propane tank?

A careful scientific investigation reveals…

…that you might be better off shooting directly at the zombie’s head since a dramatic explosive fireball with shrapnel can’t be guaranteed.

Uncle Rico cooks a fresh trout dinner.