Buck Lake and the Hidden Mt. Hood Wilderness

July 8, 2012: Last year just around this time, a friend of mine that I had met through some photography projects I got involved with when I first moved into town had invited me on a camping trip with him, his girlfriend and a few others out in the Mt. Hood Wilderness.  I had been up around the mountain a few times, but never within the wilderness that encompassed the foothills south of Mt. Hood. This would be a whole new adventure for me. 

With Kino loaded up alongside all my camping equipment, I drove south from downtown Portland, then east along SR 224 past Estacada and into the Mt. Hood Wilderness. After nearly an hour of following the breathtaking canyons and azure blue waters of the Clackamas River, I finally passed the Ripplebrook Ranger Station, the landmark that told me to take the next left turn off the highway. My directions told me to stay right at all the forks in the road until I reached a huge wooden gate.  From here, the road turned into rough gravel, which I followed until I reached their campsite, designated with a line of beer cans across the hood. Although the main recreation spot in these parts was the the semi-crowded Timothy Lake, there was instead a sign on the windshield with directions to Buck Lake, a quiet little swimming hole up the mountain where they were spending the warmth of the afternoon.

The road upwards was narrow.  Like, barely a car wide, narrow.  To my right, the cliffs dropped off into a deep valley, and to my left, a wall of rocks and trees rose above me to the next switchback.  My Jeep bounced and bumped, and twisted and turned up the climb to Buck Lake, but we made it to the "parking area" with little problems.  I was still unsure that I was in the right area, though.  With not a soul to be seen, the only way to find out was to walk the road for the next few hundred yards in an effort to find the 1/2-mile trail that would lead up to the lake.  Less than fifteen minutes later, Kino and I were climbing over a small ridge in the trees from which we were able to effortlessly drop down to the rocky shoreline of Buck Lake. From above, the water was crystal clear and strikingly blueish green. The surface was calm and the rays of sun were hitting it just right, so perfectly in fact, that it almost seemed like tinted glass as opposed to the murky, silt-filled lakes I was used to visiting back in Ohio.

I met my friends and were introduced to a few others that were up along for the ride, though I can't seem to recall their names. There were two other guys that seemed to be decent friends, a latino man and his son, and a married couple as well.  We all got along alright, and after a few hours of swimming around the lake, we all headed in a caravan back down to the campsite, a nice little spot that butted up against the one of the genesis streams of the Clackamas River.

I only spent one night there, and I can't say that outside of firing off a homemade potato gun into the river, nothing truly extraordinary happened.  It was just a hell of a good time.  This was just one of those weekends where you find yourself among mostly strangers, yet everyone got along massively, chipped in their part for dinner, breakfast and keeping the fire going.  We hung out well into the night, laughing and telling random stories around the campfire the entire time. I looked down to find Kino fast asleep by the fire, keeping himself warm against the oncoming chill of the night.  It was here that myself, along with a few others decided to retire, and the livelihood of the evening dwindled with the campfire's embers. 

I was the first to wake up in the morning, and passed the time by rebuilding the fire and cleaning up camp from the night before.  I got breakfast started as well, and it wasn't long before the scent of pancakes and coffee aroused the rest of the crew from their tents. As the morning passed along, I slowly collected my gear and reloaded up my car to get a decent day's start out on the road.  It would only be about a two hour drive back to Portland, but I wanted to make a few stops along the way, just to relax with my dog and soak up the sun along the isolated flow of the Clackamas River.  I said my good-byes and left just about the same time as a few of the others, looking forward to the next time we'd all get together for another camping trip again.  Although I haven't been back to that area of the wilderness with them since last year, I look forward to taking the trip again, this time with the goal to camp up at the lake itself.  It's too serene of a spot not to try. 

Welcome to Lewiston, Idaho

My girlfriend was raised in a small town on the border of Idaho and Washington called Lewiston, aptly named after Meriwether Lewis, of the Lewis and Clark Expedition team.  Across the state line is Clarkston, named after...you guessed it; William Clark of the Lewis and Clark Expedition. Both towns butt up against the junction of the Snake and Clearwater rivers, the former of which serves as the state line between the two.  About two months ago, she asked me if I'd be up for going to her cousin's wedding with her in late June, and of course I said yes.  Fast forward to this past weekend and we're on the road bright and early with three dogs piled into the back of my Jeep.  We weren't in a huge rush, but we figured we'd arrive into Lewiston around 4-5pm Friday afternoon. 

I drove the first leg of the trip east through the Columbia River Gorge along I-84 to I-82 north until we arrived in Pasco, WA. Beth took over from there and we continued north through the high desert of eastern Washington.  After that, I couldn't tell you where she turned, but the brown, dry brush of the desert soon evolved into the rolling green wheat fields of the Palouse.  The contrast of the bright blue sky against the stark emerald hills was striking to me and I could barely shift my gaze from the landscape.  Beth explained to me that the Palouse was a square section defined by four small border cities; Pullman & Moscow, and Lewiston & Clarkston.  Pullman & Moscow, the homes of Washington State University and Beth's alma mater, The University of Idaho, respectively, would be our first stop. 

Though we arrived at Pullman first, she drove me through both campuses, roughly six miles apart from one another, and pointed out various landmarks from her college days, such as how their home games were actually played at WSU while UI's stadium was under construction, where her business college buildings were, the location of her first apartment and the Moscow clubs and bars she liked to frequent with her friends on the weekends.  Both were small college towns and are literally located smack dab in the middle of nowhere, but they had a familiar charm to them that I've really only experienced in similar campuses such as Miami University, Ohio University, Cornell and the University of Georgia.  We stopped by the campus bookstore and took a quiet stroll along the "Hello Walk," a paved path that winds through the center greens where its suggested you say hello to everyone you pass.  Due to the rising heat (it was easily in the high 90's by now), we turned back towards the car and toured the rest of campus within the confines of my Jeep's air conditioning. 

Earlier, while driving around WSU, we stumbled across the chapter house for my fraternity, Sigma Phi Epsilon.  Although I'm not really involved with them anymore, I'm still find it interesting to check out other houses on campuses across the country, if only to see what the differences are.  In Washington, the Sig Ep house was practically a mansion, built of brick and adorned with manicured lawns, lavish turrets and ornamental masonry.  ...The SigEp house on UI's campus?  Condemned.  Honestly, it looked like an abandoned health clinic, so I would never have believed it was a SigEp house save for the signature bright red door particular to only Sigma Phi Epsilon chapters.  Furthermore, my remaining doubts were diminished as I peered in the front windows, only to spot a SigEp scholarship flier strewn across the floor among a mess of other papers, junk and broken glass.  I'm fairly certain this place acts as the campus meth house now.  What a mess. I have yet to find out what happened, so until I do, SigEp's fate with UofI remains a mystery. 

An hour later, following a spectacular scenic overlook of the valley supporting Lewiston, Clarkston, the junction of the Snake and Clearwater Rivers, and the sprawling desert hills of central Idaho, we wound our way down the hill and checked into our Lewiston hotel.  Luckily, they allowed dogs.  Unfortunately, I saw right away that Kino could unlock the handle.  In an effort to prevent him from aimlessly roaming the hotel, I had to pull a heavy chair against the door as we left them each time.  Beth was unamused, but let me indulge on my fears. God bless her. 

After we got settled, we met her brother Eric and his wife Jamie for a few beers and pizza at the local brewery.  The parking lot was unpaved and the place looked like a beat-up airplane hanger or some kind of abandoned industrial facility.  It was amazing. 

Afterwards, we headed out to a bar called the Wrangler, a place that had built up a reputation in a town that was already considered a bit rough to begin with. You can still smoke in this place, a rarity these days.  The clientele is a hard bunch, as I'm sure there were more than a few switchblades tucked away between these folks.  I ordered "two fingers" of Makers and the bartender (who was barely legal, and smoking like a fiend), looked at me like I was nuts. Beth was humiliated. Actually, she was probably more scared for my life.  God knows what the people in there would've taken offense two.  "Two fingers" (seriously...who doesn't know what two fingers is?), is undoubtedly one of them.  Honestly, this place reminded me of a bar I hung out at back in Youngstown during high school (yes, high school) called Mickey's Bar.  For that very reason, I loved every second of it. 

The next day, Beth and I drove all around where she showed me the houses she grew up in, where she went to high school, and all her favorite places she loved to visit while growing up.  It was really quite warming to get a glimpse into her former Idaho life, even though so much of the area has changed since she left.  Even though she's a city girl now, it's nice to know that there's a bit of country innocence that remains in her roots.  I can really appreciate that. Later in the afternoon, we drove downstream with Kino in the effort to find a riverside beach to lay out on for a few hours before the wedding and enjoy the refreshing waters of the Snake River.  It would, at least, offer us some solace from the heat, which at this point had risen into the triple digits. 

As the time of the wedding grew more and more near, my voice, which had begun to falter a bit the night before, had gone away, almost completely.  With each passing hour it grew worse, and by the time we stopped for an amazing, late-afternoon Burger at Sharp's (complete with Beth's self-proclaimed, condiment heroin, "frysauce"), I could barely utter a full syllable. As this would be the first time I'd be meeting the majority of Beth's family on her mom's side, and having a total lack of voice was a bit discouraging.  Upon meeting her Uncle and Aunt just before the ceremony, I couldn't even introduce myself without sounding completely ridiculous.  I know they all felt bad, and knew it was completely out of my control, but I did what I could to make the best of it and just made fun of myself, in any way I could. I'm sure they appreciated it.  

The ceremony started around 6pm, just as the day was cooling off to a brisk 98 degrees and lasted a whopping 15 minutes, tops.  Additionally, the official colors of the wedding were pink and camouflage   Yes, you read that correctly...and it only got better from there.  The other highlights? Mason jars with wine stems, four kegs of Bud Light, the fact that the t-shirts and shorts outnumbered the shirts with collars, and the most happy-drunkenness I've seen since college. Although we left a few minutes early, the reception was a completely blast and I learned without much difficulty that Beth's entire family loves to kick back and have a great time.  In spite of all my difficulties speaking that night (I even busted out a pen and paper at one point), every single one that I met were incredibly welcoming and wasted no time at all poking a bit of harmless fun at my dilemma.  Honestly, it made me feel right at home.  What could've been a potentially embarrassing and frustrating situation turned into the joke of the night, enough so to earn me the nickname "Larynbritis."  ...Clever. 

We were packed and back on the road the next morning by about 8:30, taking a different route through Washington from the one we came in on. This followed SR12 east along the Clearwater River, up out of the valley, across the high desert plains and straight back into the Columbia River Gorge.  It was a magnificent drive, and aside from a few photo ops of old abandoned barns and shelters along the way, we pretty much drove straight though. By 4:00 we were rolling back into the city of Portland, amazed at the difference in landscape that had evolved through the day.  From the desert valleys of Idaho to the drizzle-coated moss of Portland, OR, we were home and ready to crash.  It was an exhausting trip, but more fun I've had on the road in as long as I can remember.  I'm sure I'll return back there with her again one of these days, but until then, I'm more than certain we'll get there will be plenty of other road trips under our belts.