The Oregon Trail

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After leaving Lake Tahoe we ride north for a full day and we still hadn't got out of California. Admittedly we did miss one of our turns, which fortunately led us onto an even better road up through the mountains (thanks Sally!), and we did stop for a swim and a picnic of hotdogs and pie by a beautiful lake. But still - this is a big state.

We stop for the night at Burley, a key criteria for choosing our hotel being its proximity to the laundromat. At this stage of the trip, clean motorbike jeans are a real luxury. An early start next morning and by mid-morning we have finally made it. We're in Oregon.

Maybe I watched too many Wild West movies on a Saturday afternoon when I was a kid, but for some reason Oregon holds a romantic fascination for me. And it doesn't disappoint. Over the couple of days we spend riding through Oregon, the scenery is magnificent, the temperature is perfect (and by now we know how important that is), and the back roads are winding and traffic-free.

On that first day we ride north through volcano country and into the Crater Lake National Park. The western rim of the lake is closed due to fire, so we take the longer way around the eastern rim. Riding around the rim of a volcano, albeit one that has not been active for over 7,000 years, is not for the faint hearted. The sides just fall away with no reassuring barriers or even a gentle slope to catch your fall. Better get that cornering tight. The views of course are spectacular and the lake that had formed in the crater a brilliant blue.

A little further north and we pull in for the night at Diamond Lake. This is the sort of place that parents bring their own families to every year, renting the same cabin they did when they were kids. There was a communal dining room, boating and fishing on the lake, a campfire at night and kids running around making new friends, with not a Pokemon in sight.

We were fortunate to have as our neighbours a very friendly couple from Chicago who had spent a couple of days touring the wine regions. They shared a lovely bottle of Pinot with us around the fire and invited us to their holiday home in the Rockies. Another family had all the makings of S'mores, and they were very happy to teach us how to make these camping delicacies, although they couldn't quite fathom that we didn't have Graham crackers in Australia. But what do you make your s'mores with? I'm thinking of a new business venture where I package up biscuits, marshmallows and chocolate and take Australian camping stores by storm. A couple of Cowboys around the fire quizzed us on other Aussie brands and were incredulous we didn't have Buicks or Chevys. What sort of pick up trucks do you have then? Holden Utes, mate.

We reluctantly leave this paradise next day. At our first stop to refuel a sprightly 87 year old lady hopped out of her truck and came over to admire our bikes. She loved bikes and still had her brother's 1937 Harley from World War II, complete with 3 bullet holes, when he had been a courier for General Patton. Andrew was very tempted to ask for a viewing. She was very excited about our ride and gave us some good advice: don't run over anything you can't eat! We also got a great recommendation for an alternative route, so off we went down the Cascade Lakes Scenic Byway, a beautiful road with more beautiful forests, lakes and streams.

By mid-afternoon we were ready for a break and as luck would have it, we found a one-store town where the one store also doubled as a pub - or saloon, here in Oregon. The first we have found on this trip. It was only polite to stop and have a drink. The barmaid was good for a chat, although when she started telling us she didn't like Hilary because she was trying to take their guns away, we politely steered the conversation in a different direction. But I almost get it. This is fishin', shootin', huntin' country. If I lived out here I'd probably want a gun too. Maybe. Probably not. But every beautiful stream we ride along Andrew gets the urge to go fishing. Now there are many things this man can do, but he most definitely cannot fish.

We ride for a couple more days through this beautiful country, picnicking alongside stunning streams, riding over glorious mountains and through forests of fir and birch. Our last day in Oregon includes a ride up Hells Canyon and the Snake River. This was the river that all those intrepid settlers had to cross with their bullocks and covered wagons as they made their way along the Oregon Trail, opening up the west. Andrew declared it a road he'd be happy to pay to ride, and thought the state could generate some good revenue with a motorbike toll. It's fortunate he enjoyed it so much as we got to ride it twice. We had expected a turn-off at some point to take us into Idaho, but it never eventuated. As we stood by the road studying our map some kindly fishermen informed us that the road ended in one mile at the boat ramp. Turns out the red line we were following on the map indicated a time-zone change, not a road. No problems, we turn around and ride back the same way we came. It was a fitting end to our Oregon love story: roads and scenery so wonderful you just had to go back.

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Photos

Diamond Lake
Wilderness Man

Covered Wagons
An option if we get tired of the Harleys

Hells Canyon
Map reading 101: a time line is not a road