Camping on the Deschutes

Our Stake (church) held a father-and-son campout at Trout Creek Campground, which lies on the Deschutes River in Central Oregon. I took a half-day off work so we could beat the weekend rush hour traffic, but it still took us about 2.5 hours (we dropped Meg off at the Kaiser in Clackamas for an appointment--maybe she'll blog about her adventures some day--before leaving her there and heading east over the mountains). The boys whined the usual amount when on a long drive, and weren't impressed at all in the huge change in scenery from western to central Oregon. The last four miles were on a gravel road that gradually descended into the canyon and close to the river. It was pretty steep at some points, and I was mildly worried about the van getting stuck (no incidents to report, thankfully). We arrived about 4:30 p.m. and were fortunately able to set up camp before the rain arrived.

Here are the highlights and other random thoughts:

• Upon hearing that we would be camping in the desert, Eddie immediately demanded that we go somewhere else because he didn't want to be around the sand monsters and cacti that infest the desert.
• For several hours, we were the only ones from our ward there (three others showed up later that night). I told Aaron that if no one else showed up, he could make up crazy stories to tell his peers, which no one could refute because there would be no one to corroborate with. He didn't seem to think that was very cool, though.
• Meg bought a tent for $10 from craigslist. I figured I would need something to protect me, since rain was in the forecast. She said the owner had lots of cats in his house, but for the price I didn't care--besides, after a few minutes, I couldn't smell it any more . . . nevertheless, the tent is now airing out in the backyard at this moment.
• The Stake provided both dinner and breakfast (hot dogs and pancakes/eggs/ham/hash browns, respectively), but Aaron and Eddie didn't get their money's worth.
• It rained off-and-on for much of Friday evening, but the inside of our tents stayed mostly dry.
• Aaron arose about 5:30 Saturday morning, which meant I also had to get up and supervise him.
• Aaron helped make breakfast for the masses by cracking open eggs into a giant bowl. But with no running water in the camp, he wasn't able to wash his hands thoroughly when he finished. Aaron is allergic to eggs, and he must have rubbed his eyes with his egg-tainted hands soon thereafter, triggering an allergic reaction--he felt mildly sick, his eyes turned red, and his face puffed up. After going down to the river to wash Aaron's hands and face, I made him rest in the van for about an hour when he felt better. Meg commented that if a woman was there, she would have been very worried (I was too, but I took a wait-and-see approach before doing anything drastic).
• While Aaron rested in the van, Eddie went on a short adventure with a peer and his dad. They hopped over a barbed wire fence that surrounded the campsite and began hiking up the mountain. There was no trail, so they had to make their way through the grass, thistles, and heaps of rocks.
• After Aaron appeared to be on the mend, he and I joined Eddie and some others in an attempt to reach the top of one of the mountains that surrounded our campsite--again, no trail anywhere. Someone had mentioned that there was a time capsule at the top and that people had been leaving messages in it for years. But no one seemed to know exactly where it was located. So we set off hoping to find it. The going was tough and, frankly, being in my FiveFingers made it more difficult, as I was often being poked by thistles and sharp grass (they proved great otherwise--hiking on normal trails should be fun and easy); Eddie was wearing flipflops, so he had it even worse. While we couldn't reach the top because the way became impassable, we all enjoyed the view from the top.
• Near the end of our descent, as I was pulling up the rear with Eddie (Aaron and the others had safely reached the campsite by this time), I saw a snake slither away from us--probably no more than 10 feet away. I remember it being 3-4 feet in length, and its skin color blended in very well with the landscape (it was probably a rattlesnake), but I was eager to get as far away as quickly as possible. Of course when I spotted the snake, I blurted out "Snake!" which filled Eddie with fear, but helped us get back to the campsite quicker.
• Eddie became frustrated with all the rocks he had to climb over while ascending/descending the mountain and commented that "When I'm a billion years old, I'm gonna come back here and throw all of these rocks at once into the river." Apparently, Eddie doesn't quite understand what it means to age. He also pondered why Jesus would make so many rocks and put them all on this mountain.