Looks serene, doesn't it! But don't let this fool you - it had been a windy, hot day in the scorched, remote scablands of eastern Washington. When George presented our options for the camping trip, he said, "Do you want 63 degrees with overcast sky, or 84 degrees with clouds?" I'd thought over the past few months, and could barely remember any truly hot days. I could just imagine September coming, regretting not having experienced a truly hot day. Even with clouds, the warmth would be so welcome!
I spent Friday organizing all our gear, packing, and preparing a few recipes to shorten 'cooking time' while in camp. I've learned that since conditions can be unpredictable, best to have a few things ready-to-eat. So, I put hot home-made lentel soup in a thermos, made some Indian fry-bread for our back-packs, and brewed a thermos of strong coffee. While driving, we polished off the soup and some celery sticks, with me hand-feeding George as we headed over Snowqualmie Pass to Ellensburg, then to Vantage, then across the majestic Columbia River.
I'll say right now that desert country is my favorite part of Washington state.
I love the barren, dry, expansive vistas, the sagebrush and basalt cliffs that cradle the Columbia River, the absence of the press of humanity. I love to explore the Columbia Wildlife Reserve and the lands nearby that are state-managed and available for hunting, fishing and camping. The last time we were there, we noted a site that would make a good weekend get-away, and so we headed over - to Lyle Lake, a small sequence of open water, wetlands, and an outflow that looked navigable. We were ready to explore!In the spring, Lyle Lake looked so different - you could actually smell the sage, and the sparse vegetation around the lake was so green. Birds abounded, and everything was bursting with color, sound, and life. But, eastern Washington is completely parched and colorless in late summer. Even the water in the lake seemed old and lifeless, with a mat of old scum floating on top at the edges. A brisk wind was causing the water to ripple in the deeper center of the lake, and we put off canoeing until the wind settled down - which was about 4:30.
In the meantime, we tackled the highlight of the trip - putting up the canopy, which at the time seemed like a good thing to do as it offered some shade. The wind was gusting from a variety of directions, first one way, then getting temperamental and changing course.
George was having the darnedest time getting the braces to fit and the fabric positioned. No sooner would it be in place than the wind would blow everything to smithereenes, and he'd have to start over. (My, his vocabulary was 'rich' at this point.) I offered to help, and together we groaned and struggled. 
I questioned whether or not we should even camp here, because if it was going to be this windy, the tent would rattle and shake all night. He sputtered a few encouraging remarks while bracing the canopy with ropes staked into the ground: "No way will our tent blow over with both of us in it!" But, the canopy required extra ropes and rocks all around the edges, on top of the skirting at the bottom. As I hunted down big ones to lay all around the edges, George set out 6 gallons of water along the south edge. He said they'll hold it down and heat up water for bathing, pot-scrubbing, and cooking. He was right! By night-time, that water was hot enough for our baths. Lyle Lake never did simmer down. Wind was ripping up white caps, and it looked pretty bad - but we canoed it anyway, skirting the edges. 
Took all of 40 minutes to get around the lake, with a short stop to climb up onto these cliffs overlooking the valley.
We poked the canoe into this little chanel and found the outflow, which had the sweetest aquatic plants swaying in the current. The sun beat down, and the water was quite warm to the touch. 
I made a quick meal of basmati rice with kidney beans, stir-fried some garlic, zucchini and red onions, and mixed that in. It took only a few minutes to prepare - the aroma of garlic and onions caught George's attention. He sat down, saying that watching me cook is always the highlight of the trip for him. He sat in the small line of shade inside the canopy and I offered him plain yogurt, with blackberries that I'd picked on my walk on Friday.While George read maps inside the tent at night, I wandered along the edge of the lake to observe the meager 'wildlife' that inhabited the marsh and the cliffs. Permanent water sources like Lyle Lake are critical for the survival of desert wildlife. They provide breeding areas for frogs and toads, offer insects for birds, and provide drinking water for mammals and birds - of which we saw only one, a solitary white egret who chanced by our camp early the next morning. Other than a cricket in the outhouse, and a little mouse nest in the corner, we saw no evidence of snakes, bugs, raccoons, coyotes, or deer. It was like everything had run off, to seek some shade, some comfort elsewhere. Only a muskrat, swimming along the reeds provided my night-time entertainment. It made little murmuring sounds, which I recognized when I awakened in the middle of the night. The crickets sang all night to a full moon.
I made buttermilk pancakes for breakfast, and put the remainder of the blackberries on top. Then I fried up some sausage and eggs and some left-over vegetables. Made some hot coffee, and we were all set. It is cool in the desert in the morning, but as we ate breakfast the sun started warming everything up in a hurry.We took an afternoon hike along the Crab Creek Trail, which leads up to the bluffs overlooking Frog Lake.
This trail is quite easy, but with temps in the mid 80's we took it slow, climbing the cliffs that overlooked the remote scablands. Raptors, like the red-tailed hawk and kestrels use the ledges as nesting sites. We startled an owl, who slowly flapped away as we ascended the narrow trail. This is also habitat for rock wrens and cliff swallows in the springtime, when they are nesting. Before we started out on the hike, I asked George if he was going to take along a water bottle, and he said "No, I don't want to carry one." He saw that it was just a little over a 2 hour hike, and regardless of the heat and clear sky he went ahead. I packed a full thermos of strong coffee with milk and sugar, and a full bottle of water, keeping the coffee in my backpack and holding the water-bottle as I walked. I usually save my water until we are 2/3 of the way done with a hike, to insure that I've got enough. Well, wouldn't you know, Mr. George got 15 minutes into the hike and polished off half of my water! Didn't even ask! (When I handed him the bottle so I could use my camera, he quietly unscrewed the lid and drank my water!) When he handed it back, half of it was gone - boy did I scold him. What was he going to do for the rest of a two hour hike? I put the bottle into my backpack, took out the heavy thermos, and insisted that he carry the pack the rest of the way!
When we got to the top of the bluff, I shared a little of the coffee with him, but also insisted that he pack water on our next trip. He apologized, and I vowed I'd never step another foot on a trail with him, unless he's prepared. He looked a little sheepish, but agreed - everyone is responsible for their own safety (and hydration is a safety issue). When we got within a fourth of a mile of the car, I offered him more of my water, and he said "I'll wait until we get to the car. There's cold water in the cooler." So, I drank the rest. It was so hot I could have added a tea bag and brewed a cup of tea, right there.
