Fire or water?

Last weekend my sweetie and I made our annual pilgrimage to the Metolius River in Central Oregon. Well, I say annual because we've been going every year since 2006, but we didn't make it last year, so returning this year was especially lovely, like greeting an old friend.

Here are some random pics:

Closeup of Ponderosa bark; I used to call these "puzzle trees" when I was a kid, because the bark looks like a jigsaw puzzle. My favorite pines.

Near the head of the Metolius River, just below our campsite

Very late purple trillium near Cabot Lake

Black Butte from the Cabot Lake trail

 On the Cabot Lake trail, which goes through part of the B & B fire area in the Mt. Jefferson Wilderness. That's Mt. Jefferson off to the right.

Shabbat citronella candle blessings

 This trip brought us into proximity with both fire and water. Fire because we hiked a trail to Cabot Lake through part of the area that burned in the B & B fire in 2002, and water because of the Metolius, of course, and Scout Lake, our favorite swimming hole nearby.

 So it occurred to me to wonder, one night while I was watching our campfire, whether watching fire or watching water, especially the ocean, creates different states of contemplation. Watching either can easily hypnotize me for awhile, and there's little I find more relaxing than gazing into the snapping flames of a campfire, or seeing the eternal ebb and flow of ocean waves.

But the hypnotic state created isn't the same, at least not for me. When I watch a fire, I don't usually find myself contemplating anything in particular. Perhaps it's the mercurial, elusive nature of flame (as soon as you fix your eye on it, it moves or disappears). I'm just drawn into the fire itself and my mind doesn't fix on any specific ideas or thoughts. Whereas when I sit and watch the ocean, often my mind will turn towards the big eternal questions of existence, or at least to thoughts about particulars in my own life. Perhaps it's the regular rhythm of waves that creates this state of mind.

What about you? Do fire and water stimulate different thoughts (or lack thereof) in your head? Or similar ones? What happens for you?

Birthday at Mazanita

This year my birthday fell on Kol Nidre, plus I had a cold, both of which conspired to make the day feel distinctly un-birthdayish. When you are born during the Yomim Nora'im (the ten Days of Awe between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur), every few years or so your birthday will fall on either Kol Nidre or Yom Kippur. For you non-Jews, these are the most solemn days on the Jewish calendar, and Yom Kippur includes a day-long fast. Definitely not the sort of thing you want to be doing on your birthday.

Fortunately, we had ample warning of the calendrical snafu and we booked our favorite rental house at our favorite town on the north coast, Manzanita, for the weekend just after my birthday. And what a lovely weekend it was. The weather was outstanding, mild and dry (Saturday was incredibly clear and beautiful), and we took full advantage of it. We arrived Friday around noon, had a quick lunch and then went down to the beach. It was a bit windy that day so we headed back, stopping in at the various stores and galleries to see what was new and what was still the same. After dinner we went to our favorite wine bar, Vino,
and, on the recommendation of our server, had an amazing red blend of Merlot, Pinot and Barbera, called "Tantrum," (named for the winemaker's four daughters) from Erin Glenn Winery (I don't usually go for blends, but this was fantastic), along with a Caprese salad, smoked salmon and really opinionated sharp cheddar with rosemary crackers. It was all delicious and I loved the way the wine changed its taste depending on what I was eating. Even Sweetie, who usually doesn't care for wine, was turned on to this stuff.

Saturday was sunny and beautifully clear. I made Sweetie an omelet with the leftover cheddar and we both enjoyed bagels, cream cheese and the rest of the smoked salmon, and then we headed to the beach to daven the morning Shabbat service. We like doing this when weather permits. Here's our shul:

And here was the view of Mt. Neahkahnie from our shul:


We spent a good part of the afternoon at a harvest festival at Alder Creek, a nature reserve nearby. There's a resident elk herd and a community garden there, (Sweetie made a new friend)


and the festival featured lots of farmer's market vendors, barbecue, stuff for kids to do like pumpkin tosses and face painting, and square dancing. The square dancing was fun to watch; I used to do it when I was a kid. The caller had an interesting array of tunes, including O-Blah-Di O-Blah-Da and Jimmy Buffett's Margaritaville (proving that you can square dance to just about anything). Here's a view of Saddle Mountain from Alder Creek, and a glimpse of the elk:



After the festival we rented bikes and tootled around Manzanita and Neahkahnie a bit; we saw parts of Manzanita we hadn't explored before, including the impossibly cute 9-hole golf course.

Then we came home, rested a bit, and went out for my birthday dinner. The whole weekend was an indulgence in excellent food, including this dinner (I ordered lamb chops, something I haven't eaten in ages) and the tiramisu cake dessert, along with a chocolate Cabernet (it's Cabernet filtered through cacao beans, the perfect compliment to anything chocolate). My tastebuds are still recovering.

On Sunday we checked out the new yarn shop and found this amazing creation:

Brownie points to anyone who can guess what it's made of. We also saw this; both were created for Junk to Funk, a recycled fashion contest.


I particularly liked the espadrilles.

We had a lovely time.

When we got home yesterday, our cats, particularly Addie, who is usually more aloof, curled up right next to me on the couch as if to say, "We're glad you're home." I couldn't ask for a more perfect weekend.

More pics from our hike

Here are the rest of the pictures I took on Black Butte: a row of snags near the top, Mts. Jefferson, Hood, and Adams (Adams is kinda faint, but it's there, north of Hood, and Broken Top, South Sister and North Sister. To be up there, seemingly at eye level with all these mountains, was staggering. As Sweetie likes to put it, "I am wrecked with beauty."

This is where the planet greatened

Just got back from our annual pilgrimage to the Metolius River in Central Oregon. We discovered this paradise four years ago and since then we've made it a point to go back every summer. Oregon abounds in beautiful places, and even though I've lived here almost 20 years there are still parts of the state I have yet to visit, but the Metolius is so beguiling that I may never get there. 

The Metolius is a 30-mile river that emerges from underground springs at the base of Black Butte, about ten miles west of Sisters, and flows north into Lake Billy Chinook. It's crystal clear, and because its source is underground, drinkable, at least at our campsite, which is very close to the headwaters. It's a mecca for flyfishermen (catch and release only), and the water is a bracing 48 degrees year-round.

This year we weren't able to hike into the back country, as we have in previous years, because snow still blocks the roads above about 5500 feet. Instead, we hiked along a stretch of the Metolius we hadn't previously explored, below the Wizard Falls Fish Hatchery and spent a day cooling off at Scout Lake, but the highlight of our trip this year was climbing Black Butte.

We have a rather eccentric hiking guide that is full of interesting tidbits about spots in central Oregon. According to the author, Black Butte is older than any of the other mountains in the central Cascades; it was formed more than 780,000 years ago (the last time the earth reversed its polarity from south to north). Iron oxides in the rocks at Black Butte point south, unlike those in rocks in other central Cascade mountains. As a mountain, it is distinctive for its symmetry and its placement, just north and east of the Cascades proper. 

The hike itself is more challenging than some of our previous jaunts; it's a steep 2-mile trail with a 1600 elevation gain to the top (6436 feet). I begin feeling the altitude at about 5000 feet, so hikes like this make me very slow, as I must stop often to catch my breath. It's a bit humbling, because I'm in good shape, but I have to keep reminding myself that it's not a lack of endurance on my part, just that my body is used to absorbing oxygen at sea level, and there's just not as much oxygen up there. So I went slowly, but I had no doubts I could do it (I climbed Mt. St. Helens in 1990 with my brother, which is 2000 feet higher. 

The trail begins in forest, mostly Ponderosa and lodgepole pines, and ascends into meadows that top the mountain. Stopping often allowed me to really study and admire the myriad wildflowers we saw. The red trumpet-shaped ones are harebells, while the other reds are western columbines, and the purple ones are lupine. As we went higher the trees became shorter and scarcer; near the top I took a picture of a row of snags.

But the real views are at the top. There are mountains in three directions, nine peaks in all. We were surprised to find we could see Mt. Hood and even Mt. Adams (in Washington), in addition to the local mountains: Broken Top, South Sister, North Sister, Black Crater, Mt. Washington, Three-Fingered Jack and Mt. Jefferson. I felt as if I were walking on the roofline of the world. It's been awhile since I climbed a mountain; they are problematic for me, as previously mentioned, and I've forgotten how wondrous it is to stand at the top of one. I felt simultaneously proud of my accomplishment and humbled by all the beauty surrounding me.

Three days later, I am still stiff and sore from the climb, but I'd do it again in a heartbeat (albeit with more stretching before and after next time).

I wanted to post more pictures, but Blogger is being very slow. I'll put them into a separate post.