Isabella Bird Miscellany

I was beginning to wonder whether it really existed. Maybe it only existed in the distant dreams of mountain men and bats leaving guano against lava walls ; tubes and tunnels and caverns weaving a web underground. It all began innocently enough while exploring cracks and crevices outside of the area surrounding Fort Rock.  We'd gone on a late season camping trip with some friends. You know the type, where nights are cold and stars are visible in the ink above, with days breaking into sunlit skies and moderate temperatures. The initial destination was Crack in the Ground and a roadside diner in Christmas Valley that dishes up darn good Reuben sandwiches. Like most park sites, there's always a map and legend with other scenic spots to check out. And, one such sign told of a cave that was cold and needed reliable illumination. The name, the words, set the marble into motion - the quest which became a crusade to find Derrick Cave. It seemed real enough. There wa...

east lake, oregon ... summer 2015 Morning came with a cold smack in the face.  The sun was just beginning to light the day, soft and melancholy.  The campground was quiet as dawn tip-toed in.  Snuggling down a little further in my flannel lined sleeping bag, I noticed my visible breath; evidence of the chill.  In a sleepy, pre-coffee state of mind, I heard the chop of an axe, crumpling paper and the promising strike of a match.  Crackling flames stirred me from my cocoon, mocking me to emerge and join the day.   Silent mornings have a cold heart. This snippet pretty much sums up a recent camping trip to East Lake.  We had an unseasonal cold front move through, dropping the temperatures from the usual mid to upper 40’s at night down to, well, seeing my breath conditions.  Fortunately, I had not only my not-made-for-backpacking sleeping bag, but a wool quilt piled on top.  Add to that sweats and I was all toasty. I did em...