The first day of traveling seems like an adventure. The second day begins to seem like work. Neither the children of Israel nor Odysseus’s crew complained on the first day, much less rebelled. After a few days on the road, however, things started to change…. Fortunately, though our second day of traveling was just about as long as the first, we had no grumbling from humans or canines. In fact, the dogs had a much better time on the second day.
Our day began at the Mount Shasta Ranch Bed and Breakfast with a hearty ranch breakfast. By about nine thirty, we were on the road. Highway 5, heading north from Mt Shasta towards the Siskiyou Pass, cuts through a classic western landscape where cattle roam through grasslands separated into enormous pastures by split rail fences. But the pastoral scene barely disguises the violent volcanic past. Black, basalt lava flows cut through the plains like enormous scars and cows wander past the jagged remnants of ancient volcanoes.
Nearly at the top of the pass, around 4300 feet, you see the sign that says “Welcome to Oregon.” From this point, the highway drops rapidly towards the Rogue River Valley, and all the signs telling truckers about what to do if their brakes fail makes this a particularly nervous stretch of road. But before long the small city of Ashland appears, home of one of the Northwest's best dog parks. We have done this drive enough times that the moment we pull off the highway onto Siskiyou Boulevard the dogs know where they are going and the tails start wagging wildly.
In most respects, the Ashland Dog Park is not particularly exceptional. There are a couple acres or so of well-worn grass surrounded by the usual cyclone fencing. There are nice views of the city and Mount Ashland, still frosted at the top with a bit of snow, but similar vistas can be had from any lot in the town. No, what makes the Ashland Dog Park so wonderful is Bear Creek. The dogs rushed right away to the gate on the far side of the park which leads to this rivulet. Bear Creek is no more than about 18 inches deep, and for dogs, that’s just about perfect. The water is cool, but not too cold, and it is crystal clear. Canine paradise!
Like any dog park, there other bowls filled with water for drinking and a few old tubs for dogs to wash off the dirt. John snapped this picture, one of my favorites of the trip so far.
The dogs would have stayed here for the rest of the day. But we knew we still had about five hours of driving before we made it to Portland, so once they were reasonably dry, we piled them back into the car and found our way back to the highway.
Southern Oregon is monotonously beautiful. Leaving the dry savannah of the Rogue Valley, the road climbs again into the Cascades. The granite mountains are covered with Douglas Fir and other conifers. Almost any scene of this montane forest is lovely, but as the road winds among the peaks you find yourself thinking, “Aren’t we almost to Eugene?” And then you see a sign which reminds you that there are at least a couple more hours before you arrive in the Willamette Valley.
We stopped in Roseburg for lunch. Roseburg is an old settlement and was for a while a prosperous timber city. Its downtown was famously destroyed in 1959 when a truck loaded with dynamite caught fire. The center of the city was rebuilt, but it lacks much charm and the recession has taken a toll. Many of storefronts were empty, though the Republican Party had taken charge of vacant shop, a reminder that places like Douglas County are bastions of right-wing politics in a distinctly liberal state.
We didn’t stop after that until we came to Portland. Traffic was pretty terrible on the 5 as we approached Washington County. Not everybody in Portland takes the Trimet or rides a bike. Ellen called to ask where we were, and when she discovered we were just about to come into the city, she suggested we stop by her office and pick her up. We cheerfully agreed.
We had a lovely evening with Ellen. Mike is in California working with irrigation districts to help control zebra mussels. We walked the dogs, cooked dinner, drank wine and talked. Rafiki, Ellen’s dog, seemed quite happy to see her California cousins again.
Tomorrow will be our last big driving day for a while as we leave for Vancouver.
