Day 5: Kimberly to Maupin

From Kimberly, we headed south following the John Day River. It was early in the morning and cold and cloudy. Light precipitation saturated the rainbow-colored hills: red, yellow, blue. As if in an effort to stifle the color, snow dusted the tops of the hills. We pulled into the small, deserted Blue Basin parking area in the John Day Fossil Beds National Monument and got out to take a look around. My husband carried Evie and I skipped ahead to snap photos. I crossed a little bridge and my jaw dropped. I couldn’t believe my eyes. A tiny ribbon of water meandered below. The water was the most brilliant milky turquoise blue.

I was blown away years ago when I visited the nearby Painted Hills and I was most excited to see more of the John Day Fossil Bed area on this trip. I didn’t think it could get much better than those striped hills, but Blue Basin after the rain exceeded all of my expectations.  As we walked farther, you could see where the earth had eroded down into the namesake’s blue bowl. The jagged edges seemed to calve with the messiness and brilliant blue of glaciers. It was so quiet, no sign of life in any direction. We just stood and stared and wondered how we got to this alternate universe.

As we drove a little farther, we found a sign of civilization. The enormous white house and barn spread out on lush green grass seemed out of place against the arid backdrop of sagebrush and pine. We found that we had stumbled upon the Cant Ranch, established in the early 1900’s by James and Elizabeth Cant. They had come from Scotland and acquired the land through the Homestead Act. They raised cattle and sheep to supply the nearby mining villages and grew crops to sustain them and the animals thanks to the John Day River that ran wide and lazy through the property. After the Cants died in the 1970’s, the building became the National Park Headquarters and an interpretive center. It was closed while we were there, but a sign invited us to walk along a short trail to see the grounds and the towering Sheep Rock across the river.

We lingered for a bit and then headed across the road to the Paleontology Center. The center was full of fossils found in the area and renditions of the kind of life that lived in this bizarre locale millions of years ago. My favorites were perfectly preserved ferns and leaves. It was comforting to recognize them, to know they have flourished so long in this world. In the lobby, we watched video monitors of scientists studying fossils in real time. I picked up a National Parks passport for Evie and a bright futuristic postcard beckoning visitors back in August 2017 to watch the total solar eclipse. I thought what an ideally strange place to watch an equally strange phenomena.

Next, we headed to the old mining town of Mitchell to see if we could find something to eat. We found a promising cafe on the way to town but as we pulled into the parking lot, we noticed something seemed a little off. A woman with gray hair and an apron fussed with the cash register as I asked her if they were open. She said, sure, honey, we’re open. We just don’t have any electricity at the moment. I asked her how long they’ve been without power and she said all morning. I broke the news to my husband and we continued driving through town to see if there were any other options. In less than two minutes, we were through town and it appeared that the entire place was without power. People were standing outside just looking around like the sky may have answers. This place is weird, I told my husband. He gave me an mmm hmmm in agreement. We snacked on what we had in the car and moved on.

Our next stop was my beloved Painted Hills. I couldn’t wait to show my husband and Evie this place and enjoy it without the stifling heat that accompanied Nali and I on our first visit. We drove the long dirt road through ranch land as I kept repeating, just wait, it gets better! over and over. We parked among the dusty vans with plates from all over the country and I smiled with glee. I love it here so much! became my new mantra. My even-keeled husband seemed to enjoy it despite the impossibility of the place living up to all my accolades. He was used to my drama by now. Evie’s sharp little eyes surveyed with laser focus, but she too seemed to be becoming immune to my enthusiasm as she didn’t mutter a peep. It was ok, I was in my happy place.

We headed to the Painted Cove trail with its mounds of sculpted red clay. Here, the water ran orange as it braided itself to lower ground. The cloud ceiling was beginning to break and the deep blue sky emerged along with some sunshine. I lingered, I absorbed, I soaked it all up, not wanting the short trail, the trip, the sunshine to end.

We drove on. We took a back road through a gorgeous canyon that we couldn’t believe wasn’t a famous National Park or something. Tiny homesteads crumbled next to modern cabins and houses and we wondered if the originals had been there since the Homestead Act and the land passed down through generations. Occasionally a ghost town would appear out of nowhere and I’d check the map. Antelope, Shaniko, Bakeoven. We stopped to get some beef jerky and popcorn and I picked a homemade magnet that says, I’ve been to Fossil, Oregon with a picture of a triceratops.

We drove all the way to Maupin, a small town (which seemed like a sprawling city to us at this point) at the bottom of a steep canyon and snuggled into a bend of the Deschutes River. We found a city park jam packed with RV’s but it had a strip of grass they let us tent campers have for the night. We found a decent restaurant that catered to the tourists coming to raft the river and had a table outside that we could sit at with Nali and a messy baby. As the day turned to evening, we watched a rafting crew get ready for a trip down the river.

Day 6: Maupin to Seattle

We had been on the road for 5 days and it seemed like a lifetime, and I mean that in the best way. We had developed a routine and it seemed Evie was loving, or at least tolerating, all the travel. But alas, it was time to return to Seattle. It was a beautiful bluebird day, the warmth and sun finally arrived just as we were leaving. We decided to take advantage of it and drove up to Mount Hood. We showed Evie the Timberline Lodge and I scribbled one last postcard and dropped it in the mailbox in the lobby. I gave Evie a kiss and told her we would return when she was older.

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