Oregon's Cascade Range...

will never be confused with North Cascades National Park. 

http://jeffsambur.blogspot.com/2016/08/waterfalls-are-standard-issue.html

For one thing, it's sort of gentle compared to its neighbor to the North. The terrain is rounder and more rolling. There's not many waterways. It's dusty! The exclamation points are the stratovolcanoes running roughly north to south. When you hike above the green carpet layer of needle-bearing trees, one can see the nearby volcanoes. They rise up above everything else. The peaks are so prominent, they name Wilderness Areas after them: Mount Jefferson, Mount Washington, Three Sisters and Mount Thielsen.

There would have been a Mount Mazama Wilderness, but a mile of its height went Big Boom around 7,700 years ago. The blast was 42 times greater than the 1980 Mount St. Helens eruption. 

http://jeffsambur.blogspot.com/2016/08/on-may-18-1980-at-832-am.html

Now we call the water filled caldera Crater Lake National Park. The lake is 1,949 feet deep. Dude! That's deep! All those potential IPAs  come from rain and White Death melt. No creeks or rivers run into or out of the Crater. The color can be found at the paint section of any Home Depot. It's called "Ridiculously Blue." 

I painted Barley the Van's foyer in this easy-on-the-eye color. 

Come and see these Natural Wonders for yourself. It's all good, especially when the sun is out. 

This post was written in dank, dreary and clammy Crescent City, CA. I'm only here to hug Redwoods...

Jeff

"I must go down to the sea again..."

to the vagrant gypsy life,
To the gull's way and the whale's way, where the wind's like a whetted knife;"

Excerpt from Sea Fever by John Masefield 

It was in the early 80's when I first tried by weather luck on the Washington/Oregon coast. At the time, I was riding a bicycle burdened down with panniers. I endured rain mixed with mist and fog. The temperatures ranged from lower hypothermia to upper hypothermia. Of course there was a dank breeze. I survived on hot bowls of clam chowder, washed down with mildly boiling tea. 

On another miserable day, while slurping my soup,  I glanced at a local newspaper. Hmmm. The temperatures on the east side of the Coastal Range were summery. 

That day I rode up and over those small mountains. 

This time, I noticed a looming high pressure system bearing down along the coast. The National Weather Service went so far as to issue a "High Heat Warning," for the ocean viewing masses. No need for clam chowder and tea on this go-around. 

I began my sandy sojourn at Cape Disappointment, WA. I wanted to see the infamous "Graveyard of the Pacific." It's also known as the Columbia River Bar. A 3 mile wide by 6 mile long wet stretch where the Columbia River exits into the Pacific. Seafarers can expect standing waves, winds, nasty currents, shoals and other watery hazardous conditions. Since 1792, 2,000 large ships have gone beneath this blend of salt and fresh water. Many lives have been lost there. 

Now, large ships are captained in by specialized pilots. Their job requirement is to get the freighters safely through the Bar. The pilots are well paid for their efforts.

Cape Disappointment is also known as the temporary hang out for Lewis and Clark's Corp of Discovery. The Cape wasn't to their liking for a winter's stay. Eventually they canoed across the Columbia to what is now the Oregon side. It still proved to be a drippy winter quarters. It was named Fort Clatsop. They weren't happy campers there.

With the fine weather I kept moving south. Then a change came my way. In Newport, OR I reached for fleece and a sweatshirt. The fog and damp found me. At least it was toasty at the Rogue Brewery. My personal forecast for the following morning was chilly to damp conditions. My joints and muscles got sore and achy.

Hmmm. It was summer on the eastern side of the Coastal Range. Up and over, Barley the Van and me went.

Some things never change.

Last photo: No visit to the Northwest Coast is complete without a the tasty treat of a Banana Slug appetizer. I like mine sautéed in butter and garlic. Bon Apetit! 

Cheers,

Jeff

On May 18, 1980 at 8:32 am...

Mount St. Helens drank too many triple Starbucks espressos and went Kablooie. It was the worst geological disaster in America's relatively short geologic timespan. A 5.1 earthquake triggered a blast which reduced the mountain by 1,300'. The explosion leveled 230 square miles of prime Northwest forests. Fifty-seven people were killed, 250 homes were destroyed and 185 miles of highway went Bye-Bye. It was an expensive disaster. 

I remember washing volcanic ash off of my Dodge Dart in Fort Collins, CO. The fine grained particulates went further than that. The dust eventually circled the planet. 

Mount St. Helens is still considered the most active volcano in the vast Cascade Range.  It's an occasional puffer. There's a new dome building inside of the maw that the blast left behind. After thirty-six years, green things are returning. Animals are calling it home too. Remember, Mother Nature detests a void. 

In 1982, President Reagan set aside 110,000 acres as an National Monument. I've seen the steady comeback in 1986, 2012 and a few days ago. It's progressing along on a scale humans can notice. That's fast. 

The Monument is a laboratory of what nature can do if left to its own devices. Humans would only  hinder the inevitable. One day (not in our lifetime) there will be an old growth forest here. That is, unless Mount Saint Helens decides to blow it's cool again. 

You better check it out.

Jeff from Newport, Oregon