Monday, June 18, 2007

"Oh, What A Beautiful Morning!"

We spent the weekend camping at Quincy Lakes in the Columbia Basin Reclamation Area. It is about a two and a half hour drive over Snoqualmie Pass, across the great Columbia River, and deep into the vast scab-lands of eastern Washington.

This desert region is my favorite part of Washington state - dry, vast, and remote.This time of year it is starting to heat up - temps were around 80 degrees compared to the 57 degrees in Tacoma. When the weatherman predicted showers and overcast skies for the weekend in western Washington, we headed east. No doubt this will be our last trip over to eastern Washington until next fall, when the temperatures go down. Otherwise, we are looking at camping in 90 degree weather.

I had hoped that we'd get a pretty little site on a lake with easy canoe access, and we found the perfect spot. George pitched the tent in a vast expanse of wild baby's breath, and the fresh sweet scent was heavenly! I made coffee and headed up the cliffs directly behind our tent. The view was nice - if you love vista. Sagebrush, dry balsam root, volcanic rock. We had a weekend of adventure ahead of us - two canoe paddles and three hikes. We were here to explore country, and to possibly find a camping site large enough to accommodate another family gathering in the fall. We hiked along the Dusty Lake Trail and then down into a lush moraine, where rocky mountain-sides had been ground down by water thousands of years ago. We hiked throughout this valley for about an hour.

I took the lead on the way back to the trail-head, really pushing it, because 4:
30 in this country can mean that the sun goes down over the canyon and the temps plummet fast. It may feel like 80 degrees during the day, but come evening, you'll be looking for a warm jacket.

The bird-life was abundant - meadowlarks, coots, and other shorebirds. Because we'd camped so close to the shoreline, we were on top of a bird that calls out at night - and, all his friends would answer. It sounded like a bunch of bawling cattle in a feedlot. (I thought for sure it was a bullfrog, but George says it is a bird that nests deep in the reeds, perhaps the American Bittern.)

We awoke at dawn and I made coffee.
We headed out onto the lake, and I spent the early morning video-taping our glide. The water was absolutely peaceful, not like the day before when both of us had to paddle to steady the canoe. The best time for filming bird-sounds is very early morning, and my video is rich with them. At one point, George burst out into the song, "Oh What A Beautiful Morning!". There were other campers way across the lake, and I'm sure his melody accompanied their morning coffee around the campfire.

While George built the fire, I made a Father's Day breakfast - pineapple-bu
ttermilk pancakes and egg-Swiss cheese-bacon on a sourdough muffin. These pancakes are sweet and flavorful: The pineapple is sliced thin, cooked over the skillet, then the batter is added on top. To make the egg-on-a-muffin, slice the muffins, fry the tops, then place the cheese on top. Remove them to a hot tin, covered, and place over the fire. Fry up the bacon and mix up the egg batter with finely chopped green onion and seasoned pepper. Make little omelets. After everything is cooked, assemble into little sandwiches.

We went back onto the Dusty Lake Trail for several hours of
exploring on Sunday. This is really dramatic country, isolated, yet with trails that have been used by hikers exploring the region. We found this old volcanic vent deep in the hillside. People had hauled a plastic tarp down into it, and probably used it as a camping shelter. The volcanic pumice was so crumbly and porous that it could be peeled from the surface of the cave. You sure couldn't get me to go down in there!


We hiked down to this spectacular overlook, following a stream. This hike was about two hours, an easy climb back up, with the sounds of meadowlarks the entire way.
There were nettles when we bush-whacked through some of these glades. George was wearing shorts, so he was stung on the legs. This little glade was in a sinkhole, and had a profusion of little plants along the stream. Someone had placed a sturdy wooden plank across the stream, so we didn't get our boots wet.