… says Noche! Be it the truck or the river, he’s not too sure what the point is. “Can’t we just stay home and eat horse poop?” Although there is hope that he might become a river dog. After the long ride, even water had some appeal for him. And he loves hiking and camping. Lots of good smells!
We escaped this weekend. No computers. No phones. (Well at least no phone signal.) Hardly any stressful conversations about work. Just a quickie camping trip to Cache Creek. A new spot for me — and visited so long ago by Steve that he’d forgotten — it’s a pretty whitewater creek that drains a large watershed and which should really be called a river, with compelling geology and the ability to find privacy and isolation within a few hours of the Bay Area. A place worthy of return. In fact, our illustrious governor actually did something positive last week by designating a 31 mile stretch of Cache Creek as “Wild and Scenic”.
“Honey, do we have a spare?” Somehow I don’t think that several miles down a very steep, rugged road in deserted BLM lands is the right time to ask this question. The good news is that we do. The even better news is that we didn’t need to use it. Still, I felt much better after getting out of the truck and verifying it was there with my own eyes.
We found sweeping 360° ridgetop vistas, sleepy smooth water, playful whitewater, wild turkeys, blue birds, quiet and solitude. Of course we also found spent shotgun shells and broken beer bottles. And toilet paper where toilet paper shouldn’t be. I think the mentality of some who visit this lovely place is to get drunk, shoot things and then throw bottles in the road to maximize the chances that the next visitor down this road will actually need to use their spare tire. Although I think the toilet paper came from boaters. Rafters, of course. Never kayakers.
In the summer, this is a busy whitewater put-in, several miles of four-wheel drive road not withstanding. In October, we had it largely to ourselves. Except for the ranger who drove up as soon as I got naked to bathe (of course!) At least he didn’t ask about the rocks we were gathering — perfectly flat river rocks — soon to be the finishing touch on our long-under-construction rock wall. I love rock shopping!