This is where information related to projects focused on Owyhee Country will appear. Stay tuned...
_______________________________
OWYHEE BONSAI
Antelope Reservoir is located in Malheur County, an area of just under ten thousand square miles located in the far southeast portion of Oregon. The reservoir is not far from the geographical center of a larger and more ill-defined area known as Owyhee Country. Mike Hanley, a native of the area, has labeled it “the forgotten country” and tells its remarkable story in a wonderful book titled Owyhee Trails - The West’s Forgotten Corner (ISBN 0-87004-281-5). In addition to describing the area’s important and colorful history, Hanley’s book does a creditable job of capturing the essence of a land that is as beautiful as it is stark. The picture above shows my own attempt to capture that essence, a visual metaphor I created from some materials picked up on my last visit to the area. It is Bonsai, executed in what could be called the Owyhee Style.
Posted 4 August, 2009
___________________________________
CAMP RABBIT
Juniper Ridge from just above Camp Rabbit
I just returned from four days camping with Aaron (my son) at Antelope Reservoir in far southeastern Oregon. We were making follow-up visits to a few sites I’ve scouted on previous trips to the area. This campsite is designated Camp Rabbit, after the remarkable number of rabbits I encountered in the area a month ago. I’ve never seen so many rabbits, both Jack rabbits and Cottontails. I can't believe I didn't bother to photograph one.
I started naming my campsites just recently. The naming convention is simple – at some point in a given trip a set of circumstances will lead to a phrase or concept that embodies a particularly memorable aspect of the camping episode. As was the case with Camp Rabbit, Camps Coyote and Magpie each received their names from the large numbers of each type of animal encountered around the respective camps. In a similar manner my oldest daughter, Erica and I used the same convention to name Camp Scat at Sun Lakes in Washington a couple years ago. On every trail we took in that short three day outing we invariably encountered at least a half dozen examples of the most interesting and difficult to identify animal poop we’ve ever come across.
Camp Rabbit is one of the four slightly improved campsites at Antelope Reservoir and sits off to itself about a quarter mile away from the other three. By “improved” I mean there is a picnic table, an iron fire ring, and a generally flat area nearby. I like this spot partly because of the additional privacy it affords and partly because the afternoon sun comes off it earlier than it does the other sites. In July the earlier descent into the shade produced by the high ridge that runs directly to the west of the site is a welcome relief from the blasting heat. It makes for a long hike to the restroom that sits near the other three sites, but that is a small price to pay for the added level of intimacy with Nature. The area is relatively well maintained and in the five years I have been coming to this area I have never found the restrooms to be anything but immaculate. This is particularly remarkable given that these toilets (one for ladies and one for gents) are simply modern versions of a good old fashioned one-hole privy. There is not a drop of running water or a single trash can at the site, but there are usually a half dozen fresh roles of TP in each of the toilets. Good to know that the citizens who co-op the control of this site have their priorities in order.
Another reason I like to stay at Antelope Reservoir is its location. The turnoff for the campground is just over 11 miles south along Highway 97 from Jordan Valley. Another ¾ of a mile down a good gravel road and you are at the toilets, and a ¼ of a mile more you are at the site. This places you in roughly the middle of a roughly 350 square mile rectangle that includes Owyhee Dam to the north, Three Forks to the south, Jordan Valley to the east, and Burns Junction to the west. Inside this rectangle are places such as Leslie Gulch, Succor Creek, Birch Creek, Cow Lakes, Jordan Craters (all to the north and west of Highway 97) and Antelope Reservoir, Owyhee Canyon Overlook, Soldier Creek, and Three Forks to the south and east. Aaron and I spent one day visiting places on both sides of 97 and a short portfolio of photographs I took at those places will go up in the Albums section when I post this introduction. In all we spent time in and around four key areas: Birch Creek; Coffee Pot Crater; Three Forks; and the Antelope Feeder Canal, a ditch that carries water to Antelope Reservoir from more than 20 miles away.
We also visited the gravesite of Jean Baptist Charbonneau and placed a new Stars and Bars on the pole there. The flag we raised was the one that covered the casket of my late step-dad, Jesse Thompson. The flag had been in a box for almost 20 years, and while it was a bit stiff, it was pristine. I fumbled with the cord I was using to tie it to the lanyard and Aaron paraphrased something that Jesse used to say whenever he played dominoes and someone was taking too long to play their turn. “Just tie it on, Damn it! We’ll count the knots later.”
When I had two-blocked the flag Aaron and I stepped back from the pole and observed a moment of respect. I was surprised by the emotions I suddenly felt and was too choked up to say much. Aaron seemed not to want to look at me and that was just as well. There was not a breath of air and the heat from the sun beat down on us like a hammer. The flag curled around the pole and just hung there, stiff and limp all at the same time. Then a small but steady breeze came up from the southwest. The fabric moved a bit and then slowly unfurled and began waving gently but steadily in the freshening breeze. Aaron and I picked up a few pieces of trash from the grounds and didn’t say anything about the odd little breeze until we were in the truck and driving away. We made a couple cracks about Jesse and how he would have lost his temper with my clumsiness. We laughed – a little too loud and too self consciously I thought – and began to talk about Three Forks, our next destination. As the truck picked up speed I took a last look in the rear mirror, just in time to see the flag sag back against the pole as the breeze failed. It’d be wrong to read too much into all that, I know. But, as my wife commented later, it would be equally wrong to read too little.
________________________________________________
