Trip to Steen's Mountain.

My Nephew, Jerry Ray and his wife Wanda came to visit from North Carolina. We are only four years apart, so we spent a lot of time together when we were young. We had a lot of fun together and he has forgiven me for all the times that I used him as a Guinea Pig for my various "projects". He doesn't show any adverse signs of those times, so I guess its all good.

We rested Tuesday, and in spite of the smoke from the California fires we met Connie at French Glen, had lunch and then made our way up the mountain. I was braced for a rough 28 mile ride to the top of the Steen's but I was pleased to see that it had been graded and we were able to make the ride to the top with no discomfort at all.

As we climbed the mountain, I was telling every body about some experience that had occurred to me the last time I was there when we heard a loud pop. First thought was a tire or a rock hitting the bottom of the car. Upon further examination it was a bag of Potato chips that couldn't take the change in barometric pressure of 9000 feet.  Jerry and I ate the cleanest ones off the floor of the rear compartment. I will bring in the puppies to finish the "clean up on aisle 3" later. I'm sure that I can depend on them to be thorough.

 Our first stop was at Kiger Gorge. Even though the visibility was cut way down it still pretty spectacular. As you will see I was determined to not skimp on the pictures this time.

Connie was convinced that if we had enough time we would be able to see some Bighorn sheep.

The mountain is very dry. The willows are quite dried up, and of course the flowers are well past their prime. The ones that are still visible are very small.

We had walked out to the very end of the road up to the antenna farm at the West end. The road was pretty steep, but the biggest problem was the round pebbles that seemed to cover the road. It was quite a feat for all of us old folks to keep upright coming back down.

As we were driving down the mountain we found a Sage Grouse Hen standing along the road.

We didn't bother her or look for more. It was just nice to see one.

At the bottom of the hill we decided to look at some of the things connected to Pete French, a local legend from the early settlement of the area. There was a fire tower that is now being used as a roost for the Buzzards.

Connie left us at this point to go back home, and we started our trip back to the Rock House. On the way we stopped at Pete French's round barn. There the Histerical Society had put up info boards that recount the events that lead up to the Death of Oregon's first "Cattle Baron".

 This was our sunset as we pulled into the drive way at home. It would have been nice to be able to see the Mountain without the smoke, but it was still nice.