Mt. St. Helens, Wa. to Craters of the Moon National Monument, Idaho

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Entry 29: Mt. St. Helens National Monument Drive to Umatilla National Forest, Oregon and onto Craters of the Moon National Monument, Idaho
Friday, August 27 - Saturday, August 28, 2010

Portland Out...Eastern Oregon Camping In...

Leaving the Mt. St. Helens National Monument, as I looked at the road atlas, I realized that in this late stage of the game, Portland, my original goal to visit after leaving Seattle, was now out. It was at least 60 miles back to the west, and I was now in an “eastern” frame of mind. Plus, a town as cool as Portland deserves more than a quick Olympia-styled drive-through. Scott and I had visited there in 1988, where, after “pitching a drunk,” we stumbled upstairs, where I vomited into the sink after smelling the "head/hair odor" of a former patron of the cheap hotel room (I guess that they didn’t change the sheets).

From Mt. St. Helens, we drove south down a Forest Service Road, passing, and briefly stopping at, Government Mineral Springs. The Gifford-Pinchot National Forest was a nice drive, with dense trees lining the little-traveled, paved road. It was the forest that Scott had done his owl-inventory job for 2 years 20 years before.

On Scott’s advice, I traveled on the Washington side of the Columbia River (as opposed to the Oregon side—the river, Lewis and Clark’s final hurrah, creates the border between the two states). I was tired, and my plan was to drive as far as I could eastward. I had selected the final route home: East on Interstate 84, dipping down through Idaho, and then down a road that I extensively traveled on during last year’s trip—Hwy 89—and then onto Hwy 80, through Laramie and Cheyenne, Wy., through the boring states of Nebraska and Iowa, and finally, after, I’m sure, much Chicago traffic, back safely to our Bronzeville condo.

I marveled at the size of the Columbia, its dams and recreation areas and potential (there were 100s of windsurfers taking advantage of the windy, sunny late afternoon), and the quaint campgrounds located just on the water’s edge. I so wanted to stop and take it easy, but, if I’m going to make it home, I have to keep ticking off as much as possible the 2,000 miles between Seattle and Chicago.

Into Oregon...

At The Dalles Dam, I crossed into Oregon to make faster time, learning in the process that all gas purchased in the state must be pumped by a station worker. I drove and drove what seemed like 100s of miles, the setting sun creating more golden colors—yellows and greens.

Ahh...Umatilla...

I wanted make it to my first opportunity to easily slip into Eastern Oregon’s Umatilla, and at mile marker 243, was able to do so. It was already dark, but all I had to do was exit the highway, turn and dive over the bridge, and drive 15 minutes (5 miles) up into the rolling hills of forest and exposed rock.

At what seemed to be the peak of the hill, I turned left onto a dirt road that took me through a large clear-cut area and onto a small, flat peak. The moon was high, but the weather was nice as I set up the tent in the dark, fed Sophie, and worked on photos in the darkness of the tent.

In the morning, after a deep and satisfying sleep, Sophie and I surveyed the area. A former structure of some kind was still present, having collapsed some time ago. With a bag in hand, I picked up discarded trash, mostly cans, but was surprised to find an old TV that someone had, for some odd reason, dragged up there. I’m sorry to say that I left the TV.—if it had only been something smaller, a radio perhaps…

Back on the highway, having successfully enjoyed another National Forest, Sophie the dog and I hopped back on 84, where more long, tedious driving ensued. I plugged up the ol’ Ipod, listening to the sad stillness of Townes Van Zandt and his wistful, melancholy ballads. This helped pass the time, although the scenery, even from the major interstate highway, was spectacular.

For time’s sake, I passed Boise (I didn’t want to deal with people, anyway…it was aggravating enough to have to stop at Truck Plazas for gas—I never bought anything at the stops). I had a new goal: The Creators of the Moon National Monument located in South-Central Idaho.
With the large Boise National Forest hills to my north/left, at Mountain Home, I left the interstate and headed west on a very quaint and scenic road, Hwy 20. This part of Idaho is a large plateau of about 7,000 feet, so the drive was high-altitude, but was still surrounded by the mountains and hills.

Crater Rater...

At Hwy 75, 25 miles from Craters Of the Moon (it was already around 4:00 p.m.), I was faced with a difficult decision—Ernest Hemingway’s suicide site, and gravesite, was a mere 40 miles up the Sun Valley, in Ketchum, Idaho. Mostly because I knew that such a venture would very likely result in 4-5 hours of time, putting me back in the area way after dark (and/or adding more time to the trip by adding another day), plus the fact that this trip was tuning out to be quite the “Death Tour of Pyle’s Heroes,” I pushed on…

The first sightings of the dark, black lava rocks covered by sage were an exciting event, and I knew that I was only minutes away from the Craters of the Moon National Monument…

Thanks for reading the blog! Chicago Dave and Sophie the dog!

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