Today Drew and I set out for an epic ride up toward Quartzville. We detoured to see a covered bridge before ending up in a deluge along Green Peter Reservoir. I’ve been in some serious rain before that was heavier than what we rode through today but never have I been through such sustained heavy rain. The total ride was about 155 miles by my trip meter. Thanks goes to Drew for the awesome photos from today’s epic adventure!
At the “Short Bridge” covered bridge outside Sweet Home. I will be starting a collection of photos of covered bridges of Oregon shortly.
Detail of the only decals on my motorcycle.
Bike butts.
Old on the right, slightly less old on the left.
Our stallions at Yellowbottom Recreation Site, the furthers up Quartzville Road we dared trod.
Drew attempted to use a car GPS to lackluster results. Turns out it’s not waterproof, either.
On the way back down toward Sweet Home, we decided to stop for some photos in the middle of the bridge over Green Peter Reservoir. There wasn’t any traffic. We pulled our bikes up for about 15 minutes for photos and to talk about the rain. You know you’re in Oregon when you talk about the rain.
Looking down the lake.
Drew’s bike.
Rider and stallion in the rain.
To live, one must be hardcore.
At the Green Peter Dam.
It’s pretty nice that they still let you drive across the dam. At least the terrorists haven’t won here yet.
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Eureka! I found it! Whew! I had found this thread and then lost it. Amazing grace sort of. Life in the fastlane of the internet highway…and me with training wheels still stabbing the cyber pavement on each side of my Pee Wee-esque ride. And typing with only a single digit, the other nine just along for the ride…hovering harmlessly above the keyboard…never tempted to help out. At least my single finger seldom gets ahead of my single brain. A mostly symbiotic relationship. Dr. Phil would be proud…and probably feature it all week long. I think I’ll keep it under wrap. I haven’t time for TV doctors…not yet.
Let’s get this story flowing. Years ago our family headed up whichever fork of the Santiam and then on up Quartz Creek. It was a treacherous drive I remember. The roads, narrow and intermittingly gravel back then, were further challenging after being chewed up badly by the ‘Christmas Day Flood’ of December ’64 and not yet repaired fully. Green Peter dam was in the midst of being built at the time. I remember reading an account of a worker or workers losing their life or lives at the Green Peter dam site. Sobering.
It was a hot summer weekend and the construction crews were not working, but there were ample opportunities to take quick glimpses of the idle heavy construction all around. Big trucks, big equipment, big cranes, big derricks,big excitement. I would have soaked all of the sights in, but I wasn’t brave enough to peel my eyes away very often from the flood ravaged road. It was an exciting trip, what with the prospect of becoming a ‘Statesman-Journal’ headline if dad didn’t make all of the right moves while piloting our ‘wide track’ Pontiac wagon along the slim snaking road. That was the only trip I can recollect where any of my brothers or I did not fight in the back as we always would do. As dumb as we were, we were still smart enough to realize any distracting fight at all along that tightwire of a road would result in our Pontiac taking a plunge and our obituaries being published. And I certainly hadn’t finished writing mine.
Reflecting back, the road condition, and our praying and peaceful behavior, was probably the reason our father chose this destination accessed by this particular road. He now had a wagon full of sons that he likely always dreamed of. We owed him. Many trips were heavily peppered with almost continuous petty bickering and teasing too loud for the AM radio to drown out. That Delco radio was no match for us or the mountainous terrain. It was always struggling to find and maintain a signal while our wagon wended its way along river banks in the shadows of the ridges high above. I have to hand it to our dad on this trip up the Santiam. He took nature’s fury and the resulting ravaged roadbed and used that to quiet us for at least one trip. I wish I were that smart of a dad. I guess that’s what flip down DVD players are for. Our dad, he was a good man and a good and careful driver. Thank goodness!
Did I mention prospect earlier? Oh yeah…that’s what we did. For gold. Right there in Quartz Creek. I think we panned all afternoon and came up with just enough to be minimally adequate for a lab experiment to identify Au. Our teen aged wrists got a workout. Nothing wrong with that. And I have fond memories to share here. Nothing wrong with that…right?
I might not have the timeline quite correct, but if our lust for gold was not sated on the western slopes of the Cascades it was indeed satisfied inside the air conditioned comfort of Salem’s ‘Capitol Theater’ after watching Ian Fleming’s ‘Goldfinger’ featuring Sean Connery duking it out with Odd Job. What an electrifying finish it was to their skirmish.
Wow…I can’t believe I used the word ‘electrifying’ twice in one night. Once here and once in another thread. I’d be shocked if I used it three times. Yikes, I already have when I count the one in the previous sentence.
Well the birds are starting to chirp and knock on my window. They look after me all right. They’re grateful we decided to keep most all of our cats inside…looking out!
Goodnight…I mean good morning.
Keep your adventures coming . I admire your energy and your ability and willingness to use it wisely. You’re not average…and that’s good!
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The Quartzville road isn’t what it used to be. They relocated it up above the waterline. There are only a couple places where it comes within 100 vertical feet of the water’s surface now. Most of the old gold mining area is under a milky green blanket of water now. The width of the road and road surface condition haven’t changed much. Sometime later this spring when snow conditions are favorable, I’m planning to complete the road and come out on the Santiam Highway near Detroit. We had to turn around at the top end of Green Peter due to the fuel and snow situations.
Cheers,
Douglas
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“The Quartzville road isn’t what it used to be.” The ‘Old gray mare’ syndrome. In this case it’s for the better.
You’re living in God’s country in my opinion. I miss it. I think that’s one of the reasons why I write about it.
What I really missed were the opportunities to pack up the kids and after a short drive be in country like what we’ve been describing here. Baseball and softball were and continue to be a surrogate. Life in the big city…staying out of trouble.
Depending on which direction you aim your car, a short trip here in the Chicago may very well land you in a spot every bit as harrowing as that Quartz Creek road!
Take care…enjoy Corvallis if you can. I’ll check in every once in a while. Don’t ever settle for average!
Hopefully aimed away from trouble,
Michael
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