Operation Shasta Lake
Today I'm thinking about Shasta Lake. It's a bright-blue splash of water on the border of Oregon and California. Maybe you've glimpsed it on your way up or down I-5?
Anyway, the above picture popped up in my Insta feed last week (via natgeo). Due to drought, the lake's ancient submerged stumps now know sunshine again after 70 years under water. It's an odd scene—very empty.
It reminded me of a spring trip I took two years ago, when I left Portland and drove south with a cooler full of bread and brie—down across the flats of Salem and Eugene, up through the creaking trees of Grants Pass, down onto the parched plains of Redding and out onto the gray-green olive groves north of Sacramento. It was a journey involving pick ups and drop offs and one quick night camping in Yosemite.
On the way home, the car was hot, the air rushing past the window was hot, the dog was very, very hot.
Enter Shasta Lake—like a mirage ahead as we drove doggedly north. Should we stop? It's always hard to get off the highway when there're so many more miles to go. But we did! Thank god we did. The beaches very steep, dropping away quickly into cool depths. The water impossibly clear and impossibly blue. The beach mud a bright volcanic red. And NO ONE THERE. A rope swing down the way dangling unused, waiting for us.
I often think about going back. It's strange to think that if I did I'd have to tromp down through the dirt to reach sad puddles of water.
road runner, road runner
It's almost Christmas and we decided not go to the airport this year. Angry crowds and body scanners and other afronts to basic personal freedom ... who needs it? Instead, we're driving to Colorado by way of the American Southwest. As you know, I've long loved the desert, and it looks equally magnificent in the winter as the summer—maybe even more so, actually, because the season renders it empty and austere.
An early morning in the Columbia Gorge on our way to Salt Lake.
Possibly my favorite photo of the whole trip. He's sweeeping....
We went from feeling like we were on the moon....
Outside Salt Lake we stopped at Homestead Crater for a swim. The dark waters are 65 feet deep and 90 degrees—eerie/relaxing.
Salt Lake looks most lovely from afar—Antelope Island in the Great Salt Lake. I kept thinking of Frank Black for some reason, and "Palace of the Brine."
Stay tuned for more, much more....