Early spring brought the idea of a meandering climbing trip through the Sierra Nevadas. Seeking desert after a snowy Seattle winter and pining for the feel of true rock under our fingertips my traveling partner and I have nailed down the first week in May. We’re fingers crossed that we haven’t passed the region’s fine line into summer sizzle. Choosing to boulder, we hope to eschew the burden of carrying gear in the heat and reduce the chance of theft if we cross into Baja for surfing. We plan to spend 11 days and nights hosted by a capable 2007 Toyota FJ Cruiser outfitted with an Autohome roof top tent which means gear and necessities streamlined and lego’d into the truck’s interior for a week’s worth of easy accessibility. At trip’s end I’ll be flying home from San Diego.
So today, we launch…sorta.
We both prefer the most immediate departure, a desire that usually finds us in a Friday moonlit drive after a day of work and an evening of packing. Darkened roads mean we miss everyday terrain and wake with the sites we seek. But he’s recently fallen victim to flu symptoms and my week on Sudafed means I haven’t slept in 36 hours. Saturday morning it is. Though antsy to get on the road, we stop for last dredges of Seattle coffee, a detour to my house for my forgotten coffee cup lid and a pass through Joe’s (formerly G.I. Joe’s) to scout for eligible going out of business gear. Nada – the store is picked clean.
The first two days are strictly for driving and rain is scheduled down the length of the West coast. Though it masks the landscape, I’d rather the dumping occur on the drive and not on the rocks. And besides, the rain weaves a thick thread of understanding through an assortment of Willie, Waylon, Emmylou, Kate Wolf and Josh Ritter on stereo. We shoot down I-5 until nearing Eugene, Ore. where we split to head east. A similar path will lead you to Smith Rock State Park, six hours outside Seattle and easy access to a climbers paradise topped with hand-cranked huckleberry ice cream. It’s where I redpointed my first lead route – and I do believe my climbing parnter still owes me two scoops!
The drive around Dexter and Lookout Point Reservoirs is jawdropping and hosts a reflection of Lowell Covered Bridge in it’s darkened waters. Void of the interstate’s ubiquitous semis and billboards the creme of the forest road is cresting the Willamette Highway near Patterson Mountain and Oakridge with Highway Man on the iPod. Serene.
Early evening takes us across the Oregon / California border between Merrill and Tulelake headed to Canby. This is a gentle reminder to always note the mileage when the gas light comes on. I’m behind the wheel and tonight I would’ve been the one responsible for making the after dark trek to town or the nearest farmhouse for a nudge of gas.
Which Adin has. But everything else closes at 9:00 on a Saturday eve. And I’m crashing.
Options are the store clerk recommended back aisle microwave and frozen burritos or another 66 miles to Susanville where the casino provides all night fare. Fortified with one pack of cinnamon gummy bears, I vote to make the drive and take a chance on the existance of alternate options. Though I could do it, casino fare means a complete energy shift from a rain-soaked mountain landscape to a cacophony of sounds and lights I’d prefer not to indulge.
Fortunately a few dive bars remain open and Jack-in-the-Box makes a mean Oreo shake to keep my cinnamon buzz in check as we wrap up this leg’s last few miles. Soon after Susanville sits Honey Lake and an empty Honey Lake Campground. We pull in, circle the campground to find the best protection from increasing wind, brush teeth and quickly climb the ladder to bed.
