Here I am blogging again. I am trying my best to keep up with blogging more regularly. No exciting travels recently, but we have been spending a lot of time at different parks around Ashland. We also had family in town visiting, which was a nice change of pace.
Located in the northern section of the Rogue Valley between Medford and Grants Pass sit two imposing mesas: Upper and Lower Table Rocks. Rising hundreds of feet above the surrounding landscape, these flat-topped monoliths provide excellent views of Mt. McLoughlin, the Rogue River, and the communities of the Rogue Valley.
I’m infatuated with the Pacific Northwest. I loved my trip to Seattle last January, aside from the whole trip to the urgent care, and can’t wait to go back to explore. Portland is always fun to visit for a short amount of time. A road trip I took through the Olympic Peninsula sticks out in my mind for some of the most beautiful terrains in the United States. On that same trip, I drove through the town of Astoria, Oregon. Best known for the iconic 1985 film The Goonies and the whole Lewis and Clark thing, Astoria is an example of the coastal Pacific Northwest: gloomy, woodsy, and quaint.
The rogue valley is remarkable for the singular memory of purchasing a flashlight from Wal-Mart, a trip at the time which felt monumental in its exoticism as all moments at Wal-Mart do; my most recent resulting in the purchase of a pair of aviators which simultaneously and joyously made me feel like a cop and a pedophile, and the near purchase of a Yo Gabba Gabba beanie. Trite tourist trinkets, paltry and jingoistic gestures toward local folk traditions. There fireworks, but I can't remember watching them. We sat by our fire (we must have purchased wood for the everyday price of loss of dignity), swatting mosquitos and swapping stories. Alex regaled me, as he did for most of the trip, with tales of mountains climbed, fourteen thousand footers in Colorado by the age of fourteen. The night passed quickly and our next morning we made the short journey to the Oregon Caves National Monument.
Located twenty miles east of Cave Junction, Oregon in the northern Siskiyou mountains, the Oregon Caves National Monument includes over 4,000 acres, a marble cave system, visitor's center, and restaurant. While writing this particular blog entry, I found myself asking: what is the difference between a national monument and a national park? Well, this is what I found out (and this is according to Outside magazine online): national parks are protected due to their "scenic, inspirational, education, and recreational value" and national monuments have objects of historical, cultural, and/or scientific interest. National monuments can protect wilderness areas or historic buildings, are typically smaller, and multiple cagenices administrate national monuments while the national parks are administrated by the Department of the Interior. And now you have more information than you ever needed on the difference between national parks and national monuments.
So how is Oregon Caves National Monument an object of historical, cultural, and/or scientific interest? While the caves were primarily preserved as a tourist attraction, they do contain fossils of historical significance. Discovered by Elijah Jones Davidson in 1874, several groups after tried to profit from the caves, but it was the advent of the automobile that increased its popularity after the 1920s. To increase tourist traffic, the Forest Service and the Oregon Caves Company built the Chalet, which housed female workers and overnight guests, and contained a restaurant and ticket sales office. More buildings were added over the next several decades and those buildings are now considered national historic landmarks.
The Oregon Caves National Monument has the best tour guides in the entire national park system. I have visited the site multiple times and each visit my guide has been knowledgeable, entertaining, and excited about their job. I have to say these guides make me want to be a park ranger.
Alex and I parked the car and made our way to the ticket sales office amongst the mostly Indian families. I forgot to bring my jacket and it is rather chilly in the caves. The only jacket they had on loan was a boy's medium jacket, which fit around me, but left me with hilariously short sleeves. We walked to the top of the hill where the tour starts and waited for our guide. Alex and I found our way in the front of the group, irritated with how slow everyone was walking up the steep, slippery steps inside the cave.
This is a hokey tour and that is what makes it enjoyable. The guide peppers the tour with quaint historical facts about bears dying inside and people stealing artefacts. These caves are not particularly spectacular in their formations; instead you are paying for a great tour, a couple of pretty stalagmites and stalactites and a chance to mercilessly mock fellow tour goers.
I am happy that people want to get out in nature and see the sights in America. In fact, nothing makes me happier than the idea of people visiting domestic locations and funneling money into the national park system, but when I have to wait for every tourist to huff their way up the steps and drag their whining children to the top then I have to come up with ways to entertain myself. And this is how Alex and I came up with the story of how unicorns are created.
A long time ago, unicorns were powerful intergalactic space creatures who ruled the universe, but they were hated by all the creatures in the planetary system because of their cruelty (we never got into great detail as to why they were cruel; I think it might have involved slowly gauging out other species' eyeballs with their horn). Eventually the unicorn dictatorship was overthrown by a group of rebellious narwhals and they sook refuge on the backwater of Earth.
They hid in caves and slowly calcified creating stalagmites and stalactites. When these reach the maximum length and a stalagmite is about to meet a stalactite, then a unicorn is able to escape and makes it way out into the world. Their horns release a magical force allowing them to break atmosphere and return to the open byways of the galaxy.
We had to do a lot of waiting on this tour. The tour guide attempted to entertain us, but she only had a certain stock of stories and really needed to be saving them for the rest of the group. A very entertaining middle aged Indian man spent most of the tour sneaking up on members of his family and making a ghostly "spoooky" sound.
Oregon Caves National Monument is a must see if you are traveling through southern Oregon. It provides enough entertainment for adults and I think kids would be impressed. I remember it being relatively inexpensive and not too far off the beaten path. Plus, the restaurant serves some pretty good chowder, pie, and hot chocolate at the floor of a beautiful, forested mountain valley.
Next part: Oregon Caves National Monument to Ukiah, California.
After spending the night at Castle Crags State Park, Alex and I drove north towards Oregon. We stopped in the "city" of Mt. Shasta, which sits at the base of the majestic Mt. Shasta. I do feel that majestic is an overplayed word when it comes to nature, but I believe Mt. Shasta deserves that descriptor. In Mt. Shasta, we navigated through a marathon and picked up croissants and coffee at a local coffee shop. Unfortunately we did not have time to explore more around Mt. Shasta and it is my dream someday to climb to the top.
Driving through northern California and southern Oregon is always a trip. I never find myself wanting to stop there until I get to Medford or Klamath because of the area's history. Combining counties from northern rural California and the southern Oregon, is the state of Jefferson. Jefferson is most famously known for a 1941 incident when a group of armed young men stopped traffic on Highway 99 south of Yreka handing out proclamations of independence. In recent years, the movement gained speed and popularity, particularly in the northern California counties.
On this road trip, we took Highway 97 from Weed northward, driving through the very pretty Klamath Falls. It is the county seat of Klamath County, Oregon and has a population of approximately 20,000. While the area is considered high desert, there is plenty of water with lakes and it is a great jumping off point for both Crater Lake National Park (approximately fifty miles north of Klamath) and Lava Beds National Monument (approximately thirty miles south in California).
From this point onward, the landscape is dominated by dense forest and as we gain elevation, the air gets cooler and crisper. Once we enter Crater Lake National Park we are surrounded by green and on right runs a deep river canyon. Oregon is always surprisingly green, more shades of green than your largest Crayola crayon box ever had.
Crater Lake National Park is Oregon's only national park and is absolutely deserves the designation of national park. An intensely blue picturesque lake surrounded by the nearly two thousand foot sheer cliffs of an ancient caldera of destroyed volcano Mount Mazama. At 1,943 deep, it is the deepest lake in the United States and the second deepest in North America. The lake is directly filled by precipitation in the form of rain and snow melt. Portions of Rim Drive, the road around the lake, can be blocked for nearly the entire year and summer is the best time to go due to snow.
After seeing how ridiculously crowded Steel Visitor Center was with the Bermuda shorted parents and screaming pig tailed kids, we drove up to the Rim Road and parked. The Rim Road perches you on top of the lip of the caldera and you feel like you are high above in the clouds; imagine Howl's Moving Castle but with a lot of fucking snow. From there you can see the entirety of the lake including the two islands, Wizard Island and Phantom Ship. Boat tours will take you out to the islands, but we wanted to see if we could get around the entirety of the lake before exploring more.
The Rim Road circles around the lake and I took the opportunity to enjoy the snow. As a native southern Californian, snow is a magical substance that occurs in mythical cold places home to Yetis and snowboarders. Whenever I see snow I become ridiculously excited, jump up and down and scream "SNOOOEWWWW". As you can possibly guess, I have never had to scrape snow off of a windshield or try to walk down a busy city street during a blizzard. Instead, I have endured years of endlessly perfect weather punctuated by extreme drought. I probably made a snow angel because that's what you do.
It was fourth of July and the Rim Road was not opened all the way around the lake. We were stopped by a sign battered by wind and snow, straight out of Cormac McCarthy's The Road. A sign that tells you something ominous, but life changing and exciting is beyond it. Having a campsite deadline, we did not have the opportunity to explore past this sign and enter into Mordor.
Crater Lake is a place I would like to revisit some day. I want to swim in it, brave my seasickness and take a boat out to one of the islands, and hike around the pinnacles. There's a reason places like these were worshiped by Native Americans. They are magical and awe inspiring, far more soul reaching than an invisible hand.