Day #34—Sutherlin, WA, Microtel to Mount Shasta KOA--June 25th, 2011

Beautiful drive today over and through the mountains. Northeast of Medford, OR, we spotted our first snowy mountain in the distance, sharply pointed and snow-covered. We think it may have been Mt. McLoughlin, at 9,495 feet. It was dark last night when we might have seen Mount Hood at 11,239 feet. America by Bicycle’s cross country route crosses close to Mount Hood, so I have seen it several times, but Sarah and I were heading out of Oregon for California’s Mount Shasta, a mountain with which I was unfamiliar. 

At some point yesterday the odometer read 6089 miles. This is becoming a ultra-road trip. Noteworthy was a sign we came to north of Mount Shasta that read: “Congested Area Slow!” There were only two small houses on opposite sides of the road. 

Sarah had helped a friend move to the Olympic Peninsula several years ago and the two had stopped at an impressive war memorial near Mount Shasta. We, too, stopped at the Living Memorial Sculpture Garden, “Dedicated to Veterans of All Conflicts,” and founded in 1988 by a group of Siskiyou County vets. We viewed the Hot LZ Memorial Wall with the names of honorably discharged war veterans from the Revolutionary War to the present. Then we walked the trails and viewed Vietnam vet and sculptor Dennis Smith’s Sculpture Garden. The sculptures were all three or four times larger than life, made of welded metal, and very touching. 

Left: The central sculpture--"The Why Group"; right: "Coming Home"

Top: "The Nurses," with Mt Shasta in the background; above Iwo Jima re-creation, "The Greatest Generation"

Top: "Korea"; above "POW-MIA"

We then hunted down our KOA in Mount Shasta City. It was squeezed into a grove of tall fir and pines between the railroad tracks and a residential area. Though our cabin was larger than all of our others it contained two rooms and two, rather than one, bunk beds it cost more than our last night’s stay at the Microtel. We couldn’t remember why we’d opted for this cabin (the only one available) rather than a motel. 

We voted this KOA the worst of the trip loud trains rumbling through during the night and shaking us awake (shades of My Cousin Vinnie); dirty ill-kept washhouse; poorly curtained cabins with no chairs and much too close to their neighbors; packed, loud campground, etc. We were glad it was our last KOA. We unpacked only the essentials and were out of the cabin and on the road the next day before 7 AM. 

The woman who checked us in had such a sickly, syrupy, put-on, lilting voice, that after we had registered and were out of earshot, we broke into gales of laughter and practiced imitating her. 

Since we’d had nothing to eat since morning breakfast at the motel, we opted for an early dinner. So, after checking in, we found the Mount Shasta Info Center and were told to try Lily’s. That we did. Lily’s was a small corner cottage in a flower garden. Inside were lace tablecloths and a pleasant atmosphere, though they had artificial greens at ceiling height still strung with twinkle lights. We wondered if this was the year-round décor or if they had simply not had time to take down the Christmas greens. We were so early that the only other diners for the first fifteen minutes or so were three cyclists on the other side of the d.r. discussing their latest ride. 

Which reminds me. A word to my cyclist friends: On our first full day on the Peninsula, we drove up to Hurricane Ridge from sea level to 7000 feet. We started off with two cyclists. They were about a third of the way up when we were coming down. Mountain goat Nutt would love this area. 

I had salmon steak with asparagus and wilted spinach; Sarah had a NY Steak with asparagus and red potatoes, an unusual dish for her, but like my chowder craving, she had cultivated a steak craving all day. We shared a piece of so-so cranberry/blueberry cake for dessert with our coffee.

Panther Meadow (Internet photo)

After we’d eaten, we returned to the KOA, unpacked our gear, and Sarah asked at the front desk for directions to the road to Mount Shasta. The woman at the front desk, not Lilting Lady, but a young girl—must not have known her left from her right because she directed us to a road that dead-ended at the local landfill. We reversed the directions, found the road, and drove up Mount Shasta to the snow line, where the road was still closed and many cars were parked. It was a big climb with absolutely stunning views and roadside vegetation. We had wanted to hike Panther Meadow near the top, but it was closed.  

Mount Shasta (Internet photo)

Click on this link to see some of the famous lenticular clouds that form above Mount Shasta. They often look like space craft or some otherworldly object. 

This wrong directions we got at the front desk remind me to say something about our pathfinding on this trip. The law of averages says that when we have two choices (right or left) we should be turning in the correct direction at least half of the time, right? No left. We’ve managed to score nearly 100% in turning the wrong direction, whether because our sense of direction is skewed or because someone provides poor directions. Sometimes we get so far, become doubtful, so turn around only to find that had we gone another block or mile we would have discovered the place or road we were seeking, Sometimes one or the other of us thinks we remember something only to find that our memories are playing tricks on us. Can’t tell you how many U-turns the Prius has made, some because we see something and want to go back to it, but many because we’ve simply started out in the wrong direction or haven’t gone far enough. Fortunately, this ended up giving us some of our best laughs.