"We've got a Jeep...what could go wrong?"

On the way back to Grants Pass, we passed a sign pointing to a parking lot for a waterfall. The parking lot was off a fairly well-maintained Forest Service fire road, and the waterfall (named National Falls) was very nice, once you hiked down to it. 

Ok, kiddies, it's time for your class in How to Use Your Shutter Speeds Effectively!
On the left is what you get with a fast shutter speed - notice how the water droplets
are stopped in mid-air. On the right is what you get when you slow down the shutter
speed, allowing the water droplets to leave a little bit of streak as they fall downward.

(Yes, there will be a quiz later. No, I do not grade on a curve.)




When we got back to the Jeep, we decided to continue down the fire road to see where it took us.
Right about here was where I uttered the immortal words, "We've got a Jeep...what could go wrong?"


We noticed a little bit of residual snow along this part of the road. No biggie. We got a Jeep!

Right about here, we ran into trouble. It seems our little rental Jeep had wimpy little road tires,
and now we were stuck in a rotting snowbank. Four wheel drive did no good, as the frame of
the Jeep was resting on the snow. We tried to dump rocks and dirt into the holes dug by the tires,
but to no avail. Our digging tools were limited to the vehicle jack and the lens hood from my Nikon.
If we would have had my little folding entrenching tool, we could have dug out way out.

We abandoned the Jeep and started to yomp out.

With no cell service available, we began to hike out. My GPS unit showed us moving towards the
main road, but didn't have enough detail to show us the Rogue River, which ran parallel to the 
road. Although the GPS showed only a mile or so to the main road, it didn't show the fire road
turning to follow the river. It turned out to be about a six mile hike back out to the main road.

Did I mention the swarms of mosquitoes that followed us the entire six miles?

Seeking direction on the edge of civilization.


Once we got to the main road, we needed to flag down some help. The first truck we saw 
was unable to take us all into town. Another car stopped and offered to take Rob
into the nearest town to call for a tow truck. Off Rob went with a total stranger.
I took a picture of the car's license in case we never heard from Rob again.


Not long after that, a flatbed towtruck arrived and offered assisstance...it seems the first
guy we saw called for a truck and sent him up here. I was expecting the towing charge to
run into four digits (as the banjo theme to "Deliverance" ran through my head), until the
driver asked if we had AAA (we did!).  The tow out  was absolutely free of charge.

Meanwhile, after Linda disappeared back down the fire road with the tow truck driver and his 
wife, Rob reappeared in a different vehicle than the one he left in, holding a dog in his lap. 
Rob had also put in a call for a tow truck, but since one was already on the job, they had to head 
back into town and cancel the truck that they had called for. Rob disappeared again, holding 
the truck driver's smelly white cocker spaniel named Snickerdoodle in his lap. 

Now there I am, standing alone along the side of the road in rural Oregon, smack dab in the middle of
Bigfoot territory. No traffic. Not a soul around. Banjo music still echoed in my head. And it was getting dark.

Fortunately, a set of headlights eventually came back up the fire road. The Jeep had been freed, and Linda
had returned. The truck driver was having some problem with his winch and came back up a little while
later. We sat and waited for Rob for a whlle, since he had said when he left with Snickerdoodle that he would
be back. Since there was absolutely no traffic going by, we decided to head back towards the nearest town
and look for Rob. We stopped at a gas station near a fishing lodge and called Linda's sister Julie in Grants Pass,
who told us that Rob had gotten a room at the  lodge for the night. We found Rob and crashed there for the night.

Rob still twitches a little when you mention the word "Snickerdoodle."




Next...A night on Onion Mountain