Daily: 14 Miles / 31.0 MPG
Total: 765 Miles / 34.5 MPG

We got up and out early, grabbed a coffee and headed to Ashland, 14 miles a world away from Medford. Ashland is a cute little college town with an artsy vibe, gorgeous vistas of the surrounding hills; deep evergreens to the west, golden grasslands to the east. There’s a tidy little downtown with boutiques, wine bars, restaurants, bookstores of every description and a few outdoor stores to round it all out; a perfect place for a Theatre Festival.

We checked into our artsy, old-fashioned hotel (Victorian furnishings and shared bathrooms) located right in the middle of town. The clientele were all aging hippie types who seemed not to be used to dealing with the real world on a regular basis. We spent twenty minutes waiting at the check-in desk while three Birkenstock clad women of a certain age calculated and recalculated then re-checked their math for dividing their room bill three ways. (“Remember I was only here for three of the five days.” “Don’t forget to include the hospitality tax!”) I have coined the phrase “Biddy-nomics” for such episodes.

We wandered the town, window shopping and getting the lay of the land for a while. Then we grabbed a couple of enormous sandwiches from a cute little deli and went to hear a pre-performance outdoor lecture from the head of the festival’s wardrobe and props department. During the lecture Lynn decided that her next career would be in theatre costume design. Good luck on that one.

We caught a matinee performance of “The Unfortunates”, a rather difficult new piece inspired by the old blues standard “St. James Infirmary Blues”. The performers were excellent, the singing very good. According to the program the book, direction, choreography and sets drew from the blues, Comedia del Arte, old sepia photographs and industrial decay. We’re still thinking and discussing the play; trying to decide what it all meant and whether we liked it or not. I guess that makes it a successful effort.

We toured the town a little more after the show. We stopped in to a pleasant little wine bar to cool off for a spell, and then shopped a couple of trendy kitchen shops looking for a replacement gasket for our espresso maker. (No coffee, oh no!)

Had a light snack at a little Mexican place before catching an outdoor music and dance performance by an African group from Senegal. Great rhythm and beats, they had the whole crowd on its feet, dancing along by the end.

Made a quick dash to Mix for a pre-show gelato cone (Stumptown Espresso and Sea Salt Caramel) before the evening’s show.

We saw “The Heart of Robin Hood”, another new piece, much more accessible; a swashbuckling re-telling of an old tale with just enough twists to make it all seem brand new. A delightful performance, enhanced by its setting in the Festival’s version of the Globe Theatre.

Daily: 31 Miles / 32.5 MPG
Total: 751 Miles / 34.6 MPG

A slow start to the day, but we broke camp and headed out before our gold prospector revved up his pumps again. After a week of camping, we thought it best to have a couple of nights' respite in a hotel, so we'd made reservations for the next few nights. As it was early to claim our hotel room, we stopped in Jacksonville, an old gold rush town that has been converted into a tourist destination, complete with trendy shops and restaurants and a music festival with an impressive talent lineup. Too bad we won't be here in September for Jake Shimabukuro, virtuoso ukulele player. We caught his warm up at Spoleto last summer as we were hunkered down in Charleston waiting for a gale to blow over. Would love to catch the whole set.

Got to Medford, a seedy little burg whose claim to fame is an 1800's railroad depot that created the town. We checked into our hotel room and spent the afternoon avoiding the heat in the swimming pool while doing the laundry. Glad to see we still know how to multi-task.

We caught the latest Superman flick at the multiplex over at the mall. We couldn't find a restaurant open at 9:00PM so we heated up some canned chili in the microwave and called it a day.

Daily: 19 Miles / 32.8 MPG
Total: 720 Miles / 34.7 MPG

Today we stayed put, slept late and had a leisurely breakfast under the pines. Lynn reorganized and repacked the kitchen bag and provisions. All our kitchen gear is kept in the car at all times to thwart the bears.

We took a short ride to Applegate Lake and finally found the Squaw Lake Camp office (aisle 3 in a small General Store). Then we took a three-hour hike along the lakeshore.

Lynn got an impressive cut on the ball of her foot climbing over the rocks from a mid-hike skinny dip. (It was quite warm). Our nautical preparation served us well, we grabbed the first aid kit from our daypack, cleaned and treated the wound and headed slowly back to camp.

Earlier in the day we had seen what looked like the crash of a kayak, a bicycle and a moped hung up on the rocks just off the opposite shore of the river. When we returned to camp from our hike, we discovered the “wreck” had a generator, a pump and an air pump running. The operator, dressed in full wetsuit and mask was sluicing for gold. It seems we were camped along the one-mile stretch of the river not within the National Park boundaries. Each year this guy prospects along this stretch from July to September, as long as the road is clear of snow.

Never did learn whether he made enough during the summer to survive until the next summer’s gold rush.

Applegate Lake

Daily: 193 Miles / 35.6 MPG
Total: 701 Miles / 34.8 MPG


We left the coast this morning, heading east from Crescent City. Over 500 miles of coast and it’s the first legitimate small boat harbor we’ve seen since leaving San Francisco Bay. Our route followed the Smith River over the coastal range again, across the Oregon border into the high dessert-like Illinois Valley. The soil turned from black to red and the dense forest vegetation of redwood and fern was replaced by stands of pine and sun parched dry grass.

Lynn indulged me and we took a 20-mile detour up yet another twisty-turny road to the Oregon Cavern National Monument. It is one of the few marble caverns in the world, most caverns being formed in limestone.

Millions of years ago, an archipelago slammed into the western edge of the continental plate, raising a plateau between the landmasses. Water filled the plateau and over eons a 300-foot of limestone was deposited in this inland sea. Further tectonic action forced molten magma under the limestone, “baking” it into marble while raising it to an elevation of 4000-feet. The mountain building cracked the marble, allowing acidic rainwater to enter, etching the extensive caverns.

We toured over a mile of the 3-miles of known passages, oohing and aahing at the variety of formations; stalactites and stalagmites, popcorn, flowstone, moon milk and cave bacon. A spectacular exhibition. We concluded with a quick tour of the 30’s era lodge and regretfully pushed on.

It was getting late and our directions to our campsite were a bit sketchy. A call to the off-site office weren’t particularly illuminating and then we lost cell phone service. A few false turns, a couple of extra long “short cuts” added to the hour and our growing anxiety.

The guy at the office said the site might be a far as a mile from the access road. The website didn’t mention that, or the 7-mile of unpaved access road. We finally found the access road, never found the office. Once on that twisty, bumpy gravel stripe they called a road, we found it was one lane with a cliff on one side; a ravine on the other, there was no room to turn around. Our poor little low-slung car!

Seven miles later the road ended. There was a parking lot with a few dust covered pick-ups and SUV’s. No campsites, no signs, no Squaw Lake in sight.

It was now after 7:00 on the Fourth of July. With no clue as to where our reserved campsite was, or where we might find alternative lodging, we decided to trust fate and return the way we’d come.

Another seven-mile torturing our little car, we emerged back on pavement. We blindly headed toward Medford, the only town within 30-miles, towards who knew what. No cell service, no Google, no way to call ahead to secure a motel room or find another campsite. An unspoken despair was settling over the crew. And then, around a turn, out of nowhere a little National Park campsite appeared on our left. “That’s not on the map!” We turned in the drive, were given our choice of four open campsites and ten minutes later we were encamped by the banks of a babbling river.

The river sang us to an early deep satisfying sleep.

Daily: 80 Miles / 31.7 MPG
Total: 507 Miles / 34.5 MPG


It was just a short hop up the coast from a thick pine grove to a genuine redwood forest. Along the way we passed a herd of 20 - 30 elk grazing on a thin strip of grassy dunes between the highway and the beach. We were so surprised to see them that we were a mile down the road before we even thought of stopping to ogle.

We got to our beautiful little campsite to find a group of rangers a bit agitated by the antics of an adolescent black bear. Seems the fearless fella had been making a nuisance of himself recently, helping himself to the camper's goodies, just like Yogi. The previous night he'd knocked down a tent in pursuit of a snack. Not the kind of news you want to relate to your wife before her second night camping. We were scrupulously clean and tidy that night, you betcha! We stuffed the steel "bear boxes" provided at each campsite with our food, cosmetics, shampoo, anything that smells.

We spent the afternoon taking a beautiful but very strenuous hike along aptly named Damnation Creek. The trail followed a redwood cloaked ravine down to the sea; a vertical descent of 1000-feet in just two horizontal miles, and of course a 1000-foot ascent on the return trip. The setting was remarkable. Most of the parks along the coast are comprised of second growth forest; this hike was through original old growth stands. Many of these giants were 4 to 6 feet in diameter, some appeared to be over 12 feet in diameter.

At last the ravine open onto the sea, the beach was strewn with boulders and driftwood. We explored the tidal pools and cliffs for a while and then faced the climb back up.

Sweaty and exhausted, we luxuriated in an extra long shower and an early dinner. Maybe it was exhilaration, perhaps exhaustion, but neither of us could get to sleep until long after midnight.