Tonight we are sitting in Glenn’s Ferry, Idaho, having fallen short of our goal to make it to City of Rocks.
Our first mistake today was forgetting that we would be crossing back into the Mountain Time Zone. The arrival time of 6 pm that we had calculated in PDT Bend was actually going to be 7 pm in MDT Idaho. Then we discovered that our power inverter cord had fallen apart and was beyond repair, so in an effort to pick up a replacement, Karen asked Siri to take us to the nearest Staples. After navigating some road work and detours in Bend, we arrived at our destination:
Technically, its what we asked for. But it was not the office supply store we were expecting.
The power inverter is a device that goes into our DC lighter socket and allows us to plug in AC devices that have a regular three prong plug. It is a necessary item for keeping our laptops charged while on the road. Karen has a stomach that's strong enough to get work done on her laptop in the front seat while I drive, but the failing battery on her laptop means that she has to keep it connected to power. With a big day ahead and lots of work to catch up on, we found a Radio Shack nearby, made our purchase, and left Bend in the rearview, having added about 45 minutes to our ETA.
Highway 20 across Oregon is one of those roads that requires a vehicle with good mileage or a large gas tank. Distance between towns is in the 60 - 100 mile range. There is a rest area with no fuel called Brothers Oasis, where you can use the vault toilet, rest your tired eyes, and even exercise your horse.
This one's for you, Trigger.
As we traveled east, the skies became smokier and smokier. We noticed the smoke was thicker near Burns, Oregon but thought that maybe it was just the power of suggestion.
I have a feeling that a lot of the west is looking at smoke-filled valleys like this one right now.
When our bladders and hungry tummies couldn’t make it one more mile, we happened upon the clump of trees covering Juntura, OR and its only offering for travelers: the Oasis Cafe (and Motel and RV Park). Thoughts of just grabbing a snack to eat in the van evaporated when we entered the diner. It’s the kind of place that serves its important purpose without any pretense. The menu was extensive, so we sat down and enjoyed a hearty lunch with portions intended for hard workers and hunters, not sedentary van dwellers. Our server, Ida, told us that a new fire had started this morning near Burns, so, no, it wasn’t our imagination that it had been smokier back there. We surrendered another 45 minutes thanks to our meal and observation of life in a small-town roadside diner in central Oregon.
No idea what we are about to find in there...
Before there was Yelp and TripAdvisor, there were stickers like this one. I'd have to give this place a YES. It's too interesting to pass by.
Since we had been so focused on the destination and not the journey, we had failed to see some of the early clues that pointed to the historical significance of this route. But as we left Juntura with Karen behind the wheel, she pulled up to the first informative marker that appeared along the roadside (something I never do) and we read the sign, learning that we were actually traveling along the old Oregon Trail route. Pretty cool.
A few miles later, we were fourth in line behind the construction flagger holding the stop sign in front of us. Not cool, in every sense of the word. It was 92 degrees and no cars were coming the other way yet. It was 20 minutes before we were moving again.
We plowed through the onion fields of eastern Oregon and slid onto I-84, skirting Boise between 5 and 5:30 pm. Either people had left work early, were staying late, or there wasn’t a rush hour in this town. We breezed right through.
How do you like them onions? One billion pounds a season is an impressive figure.
By 6 pm, the GPS was estimating our arrival at City of Rocks at 8:49 pm and that was if we didn’t stop for any fuel or food or encounter any more obstacles. Luckily, our audiobook was getting really good and the boxes of Wheat Thins and Triscuits weren’t empty yet. Perhaps we could make it.
Chasing the GPS clock almost felt like we were playing a real-life video game. As we compared our projected arrival time against tonight's sunset and civil twlight, we knew it would be close. Then, a bonus appeared: a sign for Three Island Crossing State Park. Next exit. Camping available. Like a hungry Pac Man, we gobbled up the bonus fruit, peeled off the interstate and watched as the world slowed to a normal pace so we could re-energize.
The town of Glenn’s Ferry was tidy and the route to the State Park clearly marked. We couldn’t believe our luck when we arrived among mature trees and green grass along the Snake River. We have a lush site.
We tucked the tent behind a tree. There was a strong wind blowing and we thought it might provide some shelter.
We set up camp, took a short bike ride down to the river (using the bikes as originally intended) and then enjoyed a gorgeous sunset before dinner.
Riding across from the eastern banks of the Snake River.
It turns out that this place was a significant junction for Oregon Trail Pioneers. There is an interpretive center here in the park that we will visit in the morning and I’ll report back to you tomorrow (or as soon as I can. Thanks for your patience!)