AdventureTaco - turbodb's build and adventures

OBDR Day 3: Crazy Day
July 31, 2017.

The wind having woken us up a few times throughout the night, we were up at sunrise above Summer Lake.

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The smoke was still light as we rolled out of bed and made breakfast - just cereal and blueberries this morning - and packed up camp for an early start - our goal was to make it from Summer Lake to Riley by 7pm. After a few final pictures, we were on our way.

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As we traversed the northern half of Winter Ridge, a small detour took us to the top of a peak to some of the best cell reception we'd have all trip. We still wonder why.

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Heading back down to the trail, we began our descent out of the mountains to the valley floor. Even as we looked out towards Table Mountain, little did we realize how dramatic the shift in landscape would be - not only were we abandoning all shade trees (for tundra), we were also abandoning what we'd thought were rough roads for something in a completely different league - roads so rough that our average speed would drop to under 5mph.

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Our last view from Winter Ridge was of what we called a "ghost forest" - a green hill covered in long-dead, white, gangly trees - ghosts over the landscape. Likely caused by fire or drought years before.

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We crossed Highway 31, and the tundra started immediately. It was hot and dry. Not yet 10am.

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The trail followed powerlines for a couple miles up over a crest, and then, once again the GPS track went "off road," and through a meadow. Seeing faint tracks through, we looked at each other an forged ahead - cautious - could this be right? If it would get us out of the rocks, we were willing to try it.

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We proceeded slowly, through knee-high grass until @mrs.turbodb yelled, "it's wet!"

Within feet, I stopped. I put the truck in 4WD. I tried to back out. The wheels spun and immediately filled with sticky clay. I stopped again.

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It was time to follow a rule I'd heard from my uncle years before, and had gotten a refresher on when we'd found a van perched precariously in Diamond Craters a couple months earlier:

Stop. Get out. Evaluate the situation. Act.​

A quick look around the truck showed that we were about 20 feet into the mud of the meadow at the front of the truck (which is 17 feet long) - so we'd done well there. I thought we might be able to put it in 4L lock the rear, pull forward a bit, and then back ourselves out - so I got back in and asked @mrs.turbodb to watch the tires. If they spun as I was backing out, I wanted to know immediately.

They spun.

It was time for plan B. We don't carry MaxTrax (maybe we should), but we'd just driven out of the rocky tundra - so we headed to the edge of the meadow where we gathered rocks from an old fire circle as well as some abandoned firewood to pile behind the tires.

It took several trips, but within 30 minutes we had enough rocks and wood for ~5 ft behind each tire. I dug out some of the mud to position the closest rocks nearer the bottom of the tires, and I reduced tire pressure from 18 to 12 psi.

Then, it was back in the truck to give it a try again.

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Success! As the truck freed itself, I backed well clear of the mud and took a few minutes to clean the shovel, my shoes, and my hands, which were covered in clay mud. And then, we set off around the meadow, on a rocky tundra road, to meet up with the GPS coordinates coming out the other side.

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For the next several hours we drove on some of the worst roads of the trip. Broken up only by gates, we bumped out way over hill after hill until we came to a second meadow.

Much more cautious, this meadow proved drier than the first, and it was clear that at least a few cars had proceeded us. We soldiered on, grateful for the reprieve from the rocks, aware of the GPS tracks that showed us driving up and over the rocky hill in the distance.

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By early afternoon, we finally made it the 15 miles to final gate before Christmas Valley.

We were ready for a break (lunch), and the truck was ready for some fuel.

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After lunch, it was back on the road towards our next adventure - the Christmas Valley Sand Dunes. These dunes cover 11,000 acres of land and once surrounded a lake that’s long dried up. Originally, the sand was created by the eruption of Mt. Mazama (that created Crater Lake).

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Yeah, I’m a goofball.

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The vastness, and size of the dunes is deceptive. Some of them were over 60 ft tall, and they stretched on to the horizon.

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The sandy roads were a welcome change from the tundra of the morning and we made good time with minimal bumps. In places, the route was nearly buried in dunes! But, all good things come to an end, and after a short stop and 30 minutes of sandy roads, we passed through a gate that led back into the tundra. We soldiered on.

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And it was here that we had a decision to make. The GPS showed a 6-mile (blue) route around two dry lake beds and a bluff. But the map showed another, 2-mile road (red), that appeared to cross near the lakes, but would save us a significant amount of time.

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From our vantage point at the intersection, both roads looked equally <strikethrough>well travelled</strikethrough> neglected, so we opted for the shortcut. It was slow going. As we navigated between the first two dry lakes, we were relieved, and as we passed the third, we were nearly patting ourselves on the back. The road was rough - we were going about 2 miles per hour, including a few stretches where we had to get out and walk first.

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And then, as we crested the last bluff on the shortcut, the trail completely disappeared. It had been getting fainter as we’d progressed, but it was as if everyone just stopped at this point. We stopped, evaluated, and decided that our best bet as a single vehicle was to go back. We’d wasted an hour in an attempt to save two.

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No one was happy, but we acknowledged it as part of the adventure and headed back - faster this time, having already travelled the trail once. And with that, we were back on the GPS track.

The hour had set us back - it was now 5pm - and with 25 miles to our days goal of Riley, we were sure we’d be camping in the tundra, with extra miles to make up the next day.

Then, incredibly, the road turned from soft-ball sized rocks to dusty sand and our speed picked up. We covered 20 miles in 90 minutes, passing through some beautiful (if small) canyons.

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As we passed through gate after gate, we eventually came to a junction where we saw a sign we’d never seen before. An extremely small sign that we’d see only one other time on the entire trip. An exciting sign, that raised our spirits for the last five (bumpy) miles to Riley. We knew we were on the right track!

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Passing through Riley just before sunset (7:50pm), we got gas before the gas station closed (8pm) and saw a herd for 50+ antelope (Pronghorns) in a field of alfalfa before finding a great spot to settle down for the night to cheese ravioli with meat sauce and a fresh salad.

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It had been a crazy day. We’d

• Woken up to an amazing sunrise
• Visited a radio tower
• Gotten stuck (and unstuck) in a muddy meadow (Silver Lake, it turns out)
• Travelled countless (50+) miles through rocky tundra
• Seen enormous sand dunes
• Ventured “off-trail” and got spanked by a dead end
• Seen our first OBDR sign
• Arrived at our (fueling) destination with 10 minutes to spare
• Seen a herd of antelope

As we climbed into the tent, we marveled at all we’d seen. And we hoped that the tundra was behind us - smoother roads in our future.

Boy, did we have another thing coming.

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[missed the beginning of the story? check it out.]​

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Driving across meadows is the kind of irresponsible bull-shit that has closed many trails in the El Dorado forest for the last several years. Keep it up and the same thing will happen in your area.

I wish there was a DIS-LIKE button

 

There was a road through that meadow (as in you could clearly see tracks going in, tracks through the grass, and tracks coming out). Most years - probably for the last 5-10 years - there's hasn't been enough rain to have the meadow turn into a lake. In general, I'm with you - be responsible and stay on trail.

 

Seems clear to me you were traveling an established, published, route with GPS waypoints. I've driven through many a meadow because that is where the road was.

From reading your posts I think you use the trails responsibly.

 

On the other hand you went around the meadow by leaving the established route. This is how trails get closed. Damned if you do, damned if you don't. Please go directly to Hell. Do not pass Go, do not collect $200.

 

Don't worry, there was a road there too. Wish we'd taken it the first time. From the story:

 

Sarcasm in reference to the other poster.

We can find people who don't think you should be able to drive there at all. I think your post explains you drove into something you weren't expecting and when you did you took the best action. Stop, survey the situation and get yourself out of it while minimizing damage.

There was no "YEEEEEHAW! Hold my beer! I'm gonna gun it!" moment.

 

Honest mistake it seems to me, I am assuming you cleaned up all the logs and rocks you used to get out? There has been a few times for me when it was hard to tell if there was a road there or if a few people had created the road by leaving the trail, personal judgement certainly comes into play. Meadows are easily destroyed and if the grass is dead and dry enough they can catch fire from brushing against exhaust pipes so unless there is a clear, bare dirt road I tend to stay out.

Epic adventure so far! great images.

 

Hey man, I appreciate your writing skills. On Long Island I know nothing of driving through meadows but it seemed clear to me that you turned around when you lost scent of a established trail. Sounded reasonable to me enjoying the story, thanks.

 

Sub'D for the rest of the story. Great read!

 

Glad you're all enjoying. Hope you enjoy the rest of the adventure just as much. (At least there are a lot more pics - hahaha!)

First of all - CONGRATS! Sounds like you had a great weekend and are now one lucky dude. Next of all - I too hope we'll cross paths (we must, given our relatively close proximity). I'd have made the entirety of The Tour this year if @Blackdawg had scheduled it a month later (just 'cuz of how work worked out). I'm in next year for sure, regardless of time, if you guys will have me/us.

 

OBDR Day 4: Flying Debris Ahead.
August 1, 2017.

We slept soundly through the calm night and woke up just as the sun was painting the sky the next morning. Well rested, we were excited for the coming day of travel - the plan was to reach Seneca, the town where we'd set off on what turned out to be Mission Impossible: OBDR, back in May. Once again, we enjoyed a hot breakfast before packing up and heading out; we were on the road by 7:45am.

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The OBDR wasn't far from our camp site, and by 8:00am we were through the first gate and making our way between a bluff and a pasture.

"I'm so glad the roads are nicer today." @mrs.turbodb said, to which I let out a sigh. Like clockwork, the road immediately turned into the same rocky hell we'd experienced the previous day.

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We hoped the sky foretold better roads ahead.

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The bumps continued for an hour until we crested a bluff and came to a large shallow lake. Once again, the GPS tracks headed straight through - something we weren't about to attempt a second time! Instead, we very carefully crawled around the edge of the lake - on dry clay, but only inches above the water line - picking up the road again on the other side, where we were involved in a second show-down with a calf.

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Once again, we were victorious!

This wouldn't be our last encounter with the cows, and our victory wouldn't always be so complete. But for now, we continued onward, momma cow keeping a close eye on us.

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Almost immediately the trail got noticeably worse. So bad in fact, that I turned off the truck at the bottom of a hill climb, and started walking the trail, picking a line and moving basketball+ sized boulders to the side of the road. It was already 95°F and I was hot. My clean shirt was sweaty, and as I climbed back in the truck, the AC went on full blast.

In the end, and with careful planning, we made it up the hill and through gate at the top with little fanfare. Soon after, we entered the trees that marked the boundary of Ochoco National Forest. Except for a few short spurts, we'd conquered the tundra, a little dusty but full of hope for better roads ahead.

…and ultimately, while forest roads were slow going at times and offered their own challenges, we generally preferred them to rocky hell of the high desert.

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Need a set of jump seats for your Jeep? Free pair (needs a little rust removal) at the entrance to Ochoco National Forest.

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Not far into the forest, it was clear that the Forest Service had been hard at work. Underbrush and dead trees were not only cleared, but the enormous burn piles - more than 75 ft in diameter - had already been burned. Kudos to the good folks who did that work.

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Past the burn piles, we came across a tree in the road. Nothing we couldn't handle quickly as we moved on, past road closed signs and through dry river crossings. Every mile traveled above 5 mph raising our spirits and bringing us closer to our goal.

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Caught in the act…and the result.

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Along our way, we also ran into a few trees and a required re-route (where the GPS indicated an ATV trail), but everything was easily dealt with until we arrived at Delintment Lake - where we planned to eat lunch and take a dip to wash up. After three and a half days on the road, we stank!

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Turns out, there was an algae bloom going on in the lake, and the warning signs suggested "if you choose to eat the fish…" and "stay out of the water."

Awesome. No baths for us.

But we're nothing if not immodest. Delintment Lake also happens to host a camp ground, and in that camp ground there is potable water from a manual-pump well-head. Who cares that the water was close to 40 degrees? We pumped it out and took it in our Rotopax to the forest behind camp site 14. We stripped down, soaped up, and rinsed off.

It was amazing. We were refreshed. And yeah, some forest service folks drove by while we were bathing in our birthday suits, but we (mostly) didn't care.

An hour and fifteen minutes after stopping for lunch, we were back on the road with a fully supply of clean mountain well water, enjoying all that the OBDR had to offer.

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Cresting Snow Mountain, we got cell signal for a second.

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Forest management (brush clearing and burn piles) was evident throughout Ochoco; it was great to see.

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And then, as we joined up with the final road into Seneca, we were greeted by a sign that raised more questions than any that we'd seen so far: FLYING DEBRIS AHEAD. Interest piqued, we carried on.

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It was no joke, there was debris everywhere. It looked like a chipper had been through the forest (more of that maintenance). Turns out, it was one of these. It was cool, but it's no first gen Tacoma!

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Twenty dusty minutes later, we were pulling into Seneca - we'd made it!

But we were not done. Not even for the day. Not by a long shot.

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After filling up with gas (the store was closed, but there was an "after-hours gas" number to call), we contemplated our options. We could make dinner in town and find a nearby spot to camp, or we could push another 15-20 miles to camp at Frasier Lookout - which we’d attempted to see on our previous OBDR run but had been stymied by snow.

Always up for adventure, we decided that since we’d already run this part of the route a couple months earlier, we wouldn’t be missing much by running it in the dark this time - so we pressed on, re-entering the OBDR off of Road 16, just as we had two months earlier.

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On the road, we didn’t need the GPS for this section. Everything was familiar. So familiar that we made the same wrong turns we’d made the first time; sure that they were right the second time.

And then, off to the side of the road we spotted an animal we’d never seen in the wild. A porcupine. As I hopped out to get a better angle, @mrs.turbodb yelled, "be careful!"

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As dusk settled, we passed trees that we’d cleared in May - still on the side of the road in most places. "Thank you, us!" We smiled as we drove on.

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And then it was dark. With 10 or so miles to go, we proceeded with caution. "Drive by wire," @mrs.turbodb called it, since to her, the GPS was just as good during the night as it was during the day.

And then, just a mile before Frazier Lookout - another stand-off with cows. This time there were 5 of them in the road, more disoriented in the dark, with the bright headlights shining at them.

Completely stopped, and 20 feet away, I honked. Three of them moved.

I honked again. Only one more on the road. A calf.

And then the calf freaked out. It was as if it had been groomed for bull riding. It started running around, disoriented. Left. Right. Finally, it came to a stop just in front and to the driver side of the truck.

And then it bolted. Right at the truck. It swerved in front of the truck at the last minute and avoided a direct hit, glancing off the passenger side of the bumper. And then it took off into the forest.

So now we know that a @RelentlessFab bumper can stand up to a cow. Not that we had any doubts.

After slowly moving on, we arrived at Frazier Lookout around 9:30pm. It would be our latest night (and the only one in the dark) driving, and we’d eat fresh mushroom pizza in the dark. We climbed into the tent around 11pm, exhausted but excited for the next day - when we’d try once again to run the OBDR from Seneca to Unity (and beyond), the segment that had foiled us just two months earlier.

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Subbed for the rest of the story.

 

Enjoying the trip! Thanks for the pics!

 

Very cool.

 

tagged for the trip reports...

 

Dang. Missed you guys by a couple weeks! I'll be right in your tracks assuming you can get across the Malheur. I found all my old info from when I ran it in '99 which just amped the excitement level. We are probably just going to drive the section from Seneca to La Grande.

 

Welcome! Day 5 on it's way in a few. Just wrapping up the final bits!

It'd have been sweet to see you out there. As it was, we saw no one else running the route (either direction) our entire time. Seneca to La Grande (our Day 5, which you can read below in a couple minutes) was definitely our favorite stretch from a beauty perspective so have a great time!

 

OBDR Day 5: What Were We Thinking in May?
August 2, 2017.

Having gotten in late, we woke up a little later - you know, 6:30am - the morning of Day 5. The day was full of anticipation for us, since this was the leg that had bested us in May, so we were immediately out of bed and exploring Frazier Lookout.

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Turns out that it's been closed (too dangerous) since 2007, but that didn't stop me from climbing up a couple of levels to check out the view.

We also explored the super-sketchy lookout house, which was still in reasonable condition on the outside (save some broken windows) and looked as though the last staffer had just "walked out" on the last day the lookout was manned.

There were papers, magazines, and cookware left in the cupboards, a single bullet hole in the hall mirror, and a plastic chair setup in front of the window that looked out towards the lookout tower.

We didn't linger.

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After some exploration, we made a quick breakfast of cereal and fruit and packed up the truck. As we drove down the hill, we encountered the same cows that had caused the trouble the night before, and proceeded to herd them nearly two miles down the road, before they finally ran off into the woods.

Boy, were those cows fat.

For an hour or so, we drove along the roads we'd recently cleared. As the miles passed, we saw a dozen or so trees we'd cleared, as well as the spots we'd camped on our previous jaunt.

And we made great time. Amazing time really. Within an hour, we were at the sign for Malheur ford - the same crossing that had turned us around in May, water "balls deep" and fast moving as I waded across to scout it.

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We continued on, excitement building. Fields that were bright green were now golden. Our hopes raised that water levels would be down.

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And then we arrived. Immediately we knew that there'd be no turn around today. The water wasn't just lower, it was almost a joke. In fact, it would have been even lower except for a rock dam that had been built to hold some of the water in the ford. @mrs.turbodb headed across, prepping to take pictures of the crossing.

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Yeah, two feet lower than last time - this wasn't going to be a problem. I headed across in the truck.

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And with that, we continued up the other side of the canyon, to a beautiful view we hadn't experienced on this route the last time we visited.

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Me: "Come take a picture with me."
@mrs.turbodb: "Hahaha, I see what you're doing here." (as I make sure the truck is framed in the background)

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As we continued on, we rejoined our route from May, approaching Crane Camp and the second ford (this time of the North Malheur River). Along the way, marveling at the elements of the landscape that were the same, as well as those that were different (generally, much drier).

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We even took a couple of pictures that we'd taken the last time, just for laughs. (Ironside Mountain in the distance.)

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By 10:30am, we were at Crane Crossing. This was the point where, two months earlier, we'd turned around after three long days of clearing trees from Seneca. It amazed us how two short months could make such a big difference, and I decided that I was going to walk this one too, if for no other reason than to cool off a bit.

I might have walked it more than once, the cool water feeling terrific on my (5-days stinky) feet.

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We also setup @mrs.turbodb's phone to record the crossing. "It'll be fine here," I said as I set it up. "There's no way the wave will come this far up the bank."

Usually I'm right about these kinds of things. Let's ignore whether I was right this time, and instead note that it didn't really matter - three seconds after starting the video, the phone turned itself off, as it "overheated."

Windows Phone for the fail.

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We still got some pics though, and I drove a bit faster (which may have contribute to the wave size), having a bit of fun.

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And with that, we were once again in uncharted territory on the OBDR. As we pulled away laughing, we looked forward to completeing the trail - we knew there was nothing that would stop us now.

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We passed in and out of forest and high desert tundra - the roads varying from dirt to rocky hill climbs.

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Eventually, we entered the burn area from the Canyon Creek Complex fire of 2015. The fire burned 67,000 acres and 26 homes were lost. The devastation was jaw-dropping, but we knew that in the end, it was a necessary result of the poor forest management, and in the long run would result in a healthier forest.

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As we passed through the burn area (and the campgrounds it contained), we could see our destination in the distance - Table Rock Lookout. Our plan was to arrive shortly after noon and eat lunch in the lookout (or at least the shade of the lookout).

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Unfortunately, when we reached the lookout, we discovered that the observer would have preferred that we stayed home. As we introduced ourselves, I asked Julie how long she was stationed on Table Rock each summer. "It used to be four months, but it's three this year due to budget cuts." And when I asked if she got many visitors, she replied "Enough to wreck it."

Hmm, guess we should be going then. (shortly later, she semi-qualified that the "locals with 4WD" were the real problem, in her opinion.)

We said our goodbyes, took a few pics, and gave each other a knowing look - we'd be heading back down to find some shade on the route, where we'd eat lunch in a more hospitable environment.

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After lunch, we continued our trek toward Granite - through the Malheur National Forest, and the smoke that was starting to blow down through Washington and Oregon, from British Columbia, Canada.

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And then, for the first (and ultimately only) time, we reached our destination early. Granite is a small ghost gold town, best described by the sign hanging out front:

Albert G. Tabor frist struck gold just below the present town of Granite on the 4th of July, 1862. Tabor named his claim The Independence since the strike was made on Independence Day, and the town that sprang up around the strike was also called Independence. However, the name was changed to Granite in 1876 when the people applied for a Post Office and found there was already an Independence, Oregon. Granite was a center of mining activity for over 80 years. Today activity has ceased with nothing remaining but the town and a wealth of history.

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To say that there was a town or wealth of history remaining was a bit of an overstatement. The store/restaurant/gas station was closed before 6pm (when we arrived), and as we drove the two-block length of main street, we saw no one stirring at all.

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With no reason to stay, we decided to get in a few more miles before calling it quits for the evening, so we headed back to the OBDR and out past the Fremont Power House and up to Olive Lake, where water was pumped through Redwood pipes to generate electricity for the mines.

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We'd been considering staying in a campground at Olive Lake, to enjoy a swim and clean up a bit, but as we rolled in we were greeted by the sound of RV generators - the epitome of our dislike of campgrounds. So with that, we were back on the road within 10 minutes, where we found a spur to a hilltop that was a perfect spot to enjoy spicy sausages, grilled corn, and another amazing sunset.

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Still relatively early, while @mrs.turbodb worked on her trip log, I played on the Ham radio and found a net based in Kennewick, WA - some 150 miles away - where I listened in for an hour before heading to bed.

It had been another day filled with adventure. We'd run the section of the OBDR that had brought us back, and this time, we'd won!

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catch up if you missed [Day 1] [Day 2] [Day 3] [Day 4]
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