Rides, ramblings and rants on a motorcycle.
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12.11.2010,10:18 PM
Oregon, Ho!: Along the Oregon Trail
Series of posts excerpted from a travelogue of a 3.5 week adventure to Oregon last August/September.
Interstate 84 slides from Idaho into Oregon at Ontario. The paved surface closely follows the general trail of the emigrants during early 1840's through 1869. The wide and slow moving water of the river in the valley near Ontario provided an easier crossing than the high and treacherous river canyons north and south. Of course, the wagons had to then follow the Snake River through the mountain range west of the valley.
Farewell Bend on the Snake River
Interstate 84 slides from Idaho into Oregon at Ontario. The paved surface closely follows the general trail of the emigrants during early 1840's through 1869. The wide and slow moving water of the river in the valley near Ontario provided an easier crossing than the high and treacherous river canyons north and south. Of course, the wagons had to then follow the Snake River through the mountain range west of the valley.
Indian Head and Dead Indian Ridge. A gap in between a mountain range cut by the Snake River. Interstate 84 and the Oregon Trail ran through this gap following an old Indian trail. We would be spending the night just across the river from this ridge.
Farewell Bend on the Snake River
We spent the night at Farewell Bend State Park on the riverside. Many Oregon Trail emigrants traveled through the Snake River country for over 300 miles. Hardship and danger were constant companions, and river crossings were especially challenging. But the rivers also sustained life providing water and fish. This section of the trail veered northwest away from the river which is where the name of the bend derived. The flat bottomland and grass here often served as a camping area for both natives and emigrants.
As we unpacked the borrowed pop-up camper, we discovered an issue which would plague us the rest of our entire trip: it was coming apart. Suffice to say, Red Green would be proud.
We strolled down to the river and delighted in the views across to Indian Head Ridge. One lone fishing boat dotted the water and geese were everywhere. The water reflected light before the sun rose over the ridge.
This campground is a wonderful place to stay. Quiet and peaceful, I can imagine how it might have been 200 or more years ago. But neither the emigrants on the Oregon Trail nor I at the time ever suspected that this land, as well as all of the Blue Mountains and it's sub-ranges, were once volcanic islands far out in an ocean that would become the Pacific. And near here was at one time, more than 160 million years ago, the coastline of the North American continent.
I look forward to returning here some time in the following years for an an extended stay. Along with the little dirt-worth bikes, for there are many gravel roads along the Snake river and the base of these mountains that I want to explore.
Labels: Oregon
