Camp PackSaddle (and rest stops in between)

I picked up my 2016 RP179 HRE this last March and I've now taken 4 trips, my last one the longest thus far.  It also was the first one that I really got to try out my recently purchased Yamaha EF2400iSHC genny.  As well as my Zamp 80W suitcase solar panel.

Side note, first mod I did myself was not actually on the trailer, but on the genny to add the usage/tach.  If I ever get around to my camera, I'll upload the pics--but that may be a bit.

First, as my trailer namesake, I love my cappuccinos.  So, as much as I had a ball boondocking, I still had to bring my Breville (BES840XL) maker, grinder, knockbox and my stoneware cup/saucer and selected whole beans.   It all fits so perfectly on the kitchen counter.  (my icon, I actually did and that *is* my cup & saucer).   Yeah, I'm a coffee snob (and my coffee shop loves practicing the drinks on me... but I digress).

So, with all that said, I *was* drycamping except for my mandatory cuppa in the morning and days when it just was too hot to not turn the A/C on.

So, the purpose of the trip was to chase after Idaho's state fruit--the huckleberry.  I grew up in Eastern Washington's Spokane, so I was raised with huckleberries, but work had me move decades ago to Portland, and huckleberries are something only bought in product at exorbitant prices--like the rest of the US pays.    I worked with my sister and after lots of planning, mentioned this campground that was near lots of Huckleberries.

Well, planning ahead, I reasoned that it be best to leave early and arrive in the middle of the week so I had a prayer's chance of finding an unreservable spot.  I managed to be able to skip work early, suffering Portland midweek rush hour (from Hillsboro--the wrong side of Portland), from 26 through Portland, to 405, and finally I-84.   After a the predictable 2 or so hours to travel 20 miles, I manged to finally get going. 

I've traveled I-84 for the last half century and had plenty of time to reminisce what's changed.  The dams are like old friends--Bonneville, The Dalles, John Day, and McNary.   I also mused a rather heated tirade by my daughter made once about why a city would have the article 'The' made a part of their proper city name--so does one properly refer to it as the The Dalles city?   Of course, passing through Hood River--the city, I get to beam a bit about the R-pod I have.

Traveling the Columbia Gorge is majestic.   The contrast between the two sides of the mighty river that defines the border between Oregon and Washington still leave me in awe.  Oregon's side is a nearly a sheer bluff of rock with waterfalls spilling over it (Multinomah Falls is Oregon's tallest and the US's second tallest year round falls).   Yet, across the river on Washington's side is rolling hills.  I've always imagined as a kid that it was the unmade bed of a giant who discarded his quilts with the lumps, rolls and folds.   Yet, the perspective of both sides is very deceiving.  The train running on Washington's side looks like a small child's train compared to the hills that really rise several hundred feet.  The cars and trucks really look like specs from across the river and minuscule against the rolling hills that climb up from the river.  The high tension power lines running from the dams as I drive the length of the state also bring back memories of as kids we imagining what they looked like as one did the clouds.   There are the Siamese cats with their two pointy ears and slit eyes.   There are the puppy dogs that have droopy ears (albeit a possible extra eye).   Then there are the little boys with charlie brown heads that carry the lines from their short arms on either side.

Finally after few hundred miles, both sides of the Columbia start to flatten out.  Oregon's side starts to be looking plain like, but Washington still has the rolls.  The Windmill farms really start showing up.   These too, are deceiving as they look like pinwheels in the front of someone's lawn.  It's not until you get close to one to see that each one that looks so small compared to the hills are really over a couple hundred feet tall themselves!  I do remember a time when there used to be laws that prevented any building of structures on the bluffs so as not to deter from the beauty.  Not sure what happened here, but the windmills now win out.

I stop at each rest area Oregon provides, but target and reach Boardman's Rest Area.  I pull in and hook up the genny and cool off the Pod and then put it away.  The Rest Areas have always been clean as long as I remember them.  By the time I pull in around 11 at night, it is nearly full of truckers.  At first I was concerned about running my genny, but listening to the hum of their own, my little one was easily drowned out.    Spent the night and slept very well.  The hum of all the white noise created by the surrounding truckers actually lulled me into blissful sleep.

Next morning, was my first chance to see about hooking up my Coffee maker and pull my shots and make my coffee.  Genny did fine.   Sipped it and had breakfast and hit the road again to Spokane and then to my end goal. 

Driving north after passing through the tri-cities and taking 395 I caught up with another R-pod.  Passed and gave a thumbs up.  When the next rest stop came, i pulled in and He showed up shortly.  It was nice to show of each other's pride and swap a few stories before heading our separate ways.

Continued the gradual climb of elevation, catching up with I-90 and then to Spokane where I stop at my mom's to drop off a different generator for her and pick up my sister and her family.  From there, we both drove east and back down to Plummer, and then to St. Maries.   This was my old stomping grounds decades ago as a boy scout where we camped all over northern Idaho.  Although I forgot just how hard it was to *get* to St. Maries.   It originally was only accessible via the St. Maries river that flows out of Coeur d'Alene Lake.  The winding 6+% grades up and down gave me a bit of a nerve wracking hour of driving and I learned something about my truck I didn't know before--It automatically shifts down to 2nd gear going down grades greater than 6% and refuses to leave regardless of all my cajoling until it levels out.  First time freaked me out.   Once on the other side, I was surprised that following the St. Joe River was actually a very pleasant drive and not as bad as it looks on the map.  It's traveling into the foot hills of the Rockies and the river (thus the road) is very windy.

When we left St. Maries, we all lost cell service--I had warned work and was thrilled.  I would not be interrupted this trip (but neither would I be caught up on this forum ).  

For the next 60 miles east, it was very tranquil.   Lots of camp grounds dotted both sides of the river, but they were quiet.  Only fisherman and floaters.  When my sister pointed out the campground, I was floored.  It was so *huge*.   It had a total of TWO sites.    This was Camp Packsaddle.  I'd call it almost primitive (it does have an outhouse).  My sister tells me that it has been upgraded since the last time she was there as their were two asphalt pads tied together by a single pull through.   I guess it used to be you had to back into each one from opposite sides.   HOWEVER, it was very tricky getting my R-pod in there and I did have to disconnect, reorient my truck and reconnect to nudge it where I wanted.  It was tight. 

Now it was right on the shore of the St. Joe and about 30' from the highway.  About the highway, it was so busy!  I think there *might* have been 12 vehicles a day and they usually were pulling a trailer (logs or travel).  There was no water (save the river), no power, no electric, no sewer, no radio, no TV, no cell, and few humans (and If I did see them, it was only as they waded into the fast moving hip deep water to fly fish, or drift down the shallow rapids).  What it was, was absolutely peaceful and tranquil.

I had to muse that I exchanged the dangers of a fellow human being taking me out with the dangers of nature having the privilege.  I think the latter was more tolerable.   Over the next few days we camped and hunted for the elusive berry.   Now, what is it with Huckleberries fetish for 45% grade rock slides? It was typical that I would climb a slide, carefully pick, possibly spill my bucket, swear and try to find and pick up my precious berries (my precious...) 

My tongue is planted in my cheek as I say this as I already know the answer.  For those unaware, Huckleberries are very difficult to domesticate. But as for their fetish with rock slides?   

My brother-in-law gave me a beautiful diamond willow wood walking stick he hand carved and stained.  It was heavily used as I scaled up or down 50' of rock slides to get to a possible bush for a few berries and then back.   I was fortunate and told God to bless one particular bush that literally was covered like clusters of grapes.  Took me an hour to pick that wonderful bush.  Others, I might have scrambled and only gotten a handful.  It provided ample time of hiking, climbing and just enjoying God's nature.

As an aside, we did hear a couple cats--I don't think they were strays from the nearest campground.    Moving right along (and quickly)...

My sister and her family left and I had another 24 hours of solitude of hiking, climbing and picking.  Hardly saw a soul.   Headed back, stopping at Spokane to pick up a couple pieces of furniture and then try to make as much time back.   Made it to Sprague Lake Rest Area on I-90 for the night.  I was thrilled to make it here as it is another nice rest area, but also has dump facilities.  

Next day, headed the rest of the way back.   Once crossing the I-82 bridge across the Columbia into Oregon, I was amazed at how clear it was.  You could see Mt. Hood from across the state.  It is the lonely mountain that I can watch for the next several hours of driving and then pass and then enjoy in my rear view mirror.

Five day trip and a just shy of 1000 miles.  R-pod did great.   Now about those bugs on the front...