The perks of getting up early: you get to see the sunrise
On July 31, my family and I awoke at 4am, loaded up the Desert Wolf, and set off on our big trip of the summer: an eight day camping trip starting at the Rogue River, then on the the Oregon coast, then finishing at Lassen Volcanic State Park.
The Rogue River viewed from a road stop
On day one, we left our house at 5am and by by 11am were seated in our favorite diner, the Morning Glory, which is in Ashland, Oregon. The Morning Glory has been a stopping point for us for as long as I can remember, probably at least twelve years. I ordered a latte and a caramelized onion/bacon/cheese omelet, which was delicious. After our meal, we piled back into the bus and took off again.
Driving through California and Oregon, along the coasts and rivers, through the forests and across the meadows, it is easy for me to see where John Muir drew his inspiration. One feels so small when surrounded by such an immensity of natural beauty, and the urge both to appreciate it and preserve it for others to appreciate is, for me, inherent.
We made it to our camping spot at Ennis Riffle in the mid afternoon. We were camped in a large lot (along with some squatters and what appeared to be a youth church group) directly on the Rogue. After we had unpacked the bus, set up the two beds inside the bus, and pitched our tent, we decided it was high time to cool off in the river. The drive to the Rogue had been between seven and eight hours long, and the Desert Wolf, being somewhat of an antique, has no air conditioning. We left in July in California, and to say it was hot is an understatement. The 98F outside was transformed into about 103F inside, and we were roasting.
Cooling our drinks in the river
The Whittalls, at least this branch, are primarily a beach going family. We are well equipped for beach excursions, but not so much for river trips. Hence, we had no rafts or inner tubes with which to run the rapids, but we did have boogie boards. My brother and I decided it would be a grand time to boogie board down the rapids, which didn't look very big from the shore. With the first step into the river, we realized our folly. Because the rapids looked small, and we are inexperienced river people, we decided to go directly to the largest section of rapids. Little did we know that bigger waves means bigger rocks hidden beneath, and for me that first trip down the meant being immediately flipped off my board and dragged unceremoniously along the rocks until the river smoothed out farther down. After a few more practice runs, though, we got the hang of it and were soon coasting down with ease (almost...).
The Rogue
After a few hours of playing, exploring, and relaxing on the river, we drove a few minutes down to Galice resort, the little resort near the Rogue River, for dinner. We sat outside on the deck overlooking the river and watched the sun set over the river after we had finished our meal. As we ate, a flock of Canada geese flew overhead, honking their presence. A bald eagle followed soon after them, soaring silently on the breeze, probably looking for fish to catch in the flowing water below. There was a little island midway through the shallow water, and about twenty minutes into our dinner a small brown deer walked out through the water and onto the island to graze.
This sounds idyllic, and it was. The transcendentalists of the 1820s/30s believed that nature and people are inherently good, and reviled the industrial revolution as taking away the peace of nature. John Muir especially took a radical (at the time) view of transcendentalism, believing that spending time in nature would lead him to spirituality. Muir was also an environmentalist and conservationist, and he devoted himself to protecting and enjoying nature and the natural world. I think more people should follow in his example. When I spend time at a place like the Rogue River, which is so alive, alive with sounds from the rushing river, the birds calling, the wind in the trees, alive with color, vibrant greens, deep blue, musky brown, alive with smells of clean water and air, of leaves, and of trees, I can not imagine how some could see this and then throw a plastic bag, or a soda bottle, or some other piece of dead junk into the midst of an area so teeming with life, especially knowing that their dead piece of trash could be the killer of one of the creatures singing with life by the river. How can man walk into a place so beautiful, so vividly, wildly animated, and decide to destroy it? I think we need another movement similar to the transcendentalist movement. We need to rally the people to wake up and realize that we are slowly destroying the natural beauty surrounding us. We need to make people appreciate and love nature the way Muir did, so that they can teach their children and grandchildren and so on down the line. We need a new outlook.
