The next morning we continued on the O.C.&E., passing the ‘good camp site.’ It did look good.
We climbed all morning, following the steady, railroad grade toward a pass. We reached the tree fall zone we'd been expecting.
This section of the trail must get a lot less traffic. It was very rough, with landslides, big holes, downed trees blocking the trail, and some really pretty, golden-leafed, small aspens in groves, among the dead, burnt pines.
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| Photo by Monty Boyd |
It was very slow going through this section, carrying heavy bikes over, under and around the tree fall. We were climbing toward a high point, it was cold and dreary, with overcast skies, and the pleasure factor was low.
We reached the northern end of the O.C.&E. trail, where a gate warns south-bound travelers, “NO ENTRY - DANGEROUS CONDITIONS IN THIS AREA” here we noticed a nice flat spot with some tire tracks going to it. The two Marks had camped there, right past the gate. That brought us to Forest Road 27, which much of the Oregon Outback follows. It was paved, then dirt, and so much easier to follow than the railroad trail. It traveled through burned forests, under a cloudy, grey sky, through an austere landscape. We found some red-colored gravel roads, and wondered if this was the ’Red Sauce,’ but no; not yet. We came upon clouds of swirling birds, flying in undulating shapes, I think they were swifts.
They would fly off the ground as we went by and then immediately return to the ground, probably eating some bugs. They were beautiful. This was day two, Thursday. There were a lot of hunters in the area, and when we asked a local, we were told that Saturday would be the start of deer/rifle hunting season. Hmm, glad I had a red wind shell and an orange puffy jacket. If you do this ride in October, consider that factor.
After a long series of dirt roads, riding at a pace that was targeting our 4pm reservation, we arrived at the Cowboy Dinner Tree with fifteen minutes to spare, where we met the two Marks and another bikepacker, Drew, who was on the same route as us. We also met Monty senior, Monty junior’s dad, and his wife Charlene, Monty‘s stepmother, who had driven out from Salem to meet us. Drew had found the ‘fancy bike pants’ that Mark N. had dropped, and restored them to him. The nine of us, minus Drew, sat together.
The Cowboy Dinner Tree is a fascinating, and apparently a very popular destination. I hadn't given it much thought, beyond ‘let's stop there.’ The route designer highly recommends stopping there. We'd all agreed to the reservations Greg had made, each opting for the only menu choice to be made; the 30 ounce steak, instead of the whole chicken. The place is rustic, a well-run operation with a very western, cowboy aesthetic. It's no show, it's obvious this place is a real cowboy mess hall from the old days. Our server, Shelby was a pro, and we had salads, big mason jars full of iced tea, iced lemonade and/or the Arnold Palmer combo, (minus the alcohol; no alcohol on premises allowed) bowls of beans with steak, fresh, hot buns, the main event; a gigantic cut of steak and a baked potato with all the fixings (chives, sour cream, bacon, cheese) and finally a choice of strawberry shortcake with berries or some sort of cream dessert. I think I drank two and a half big mason jars of lemonade and iced tea, I was parched. We'd all requested steak with our reservations. No choices were allowed for how the steak was to be cooked; the kitchen was absolutely in charge of the level of cooking, and I'd say they got it perfectly right; a nice sear, medium rare on the inside. These steaks were huge, I have no idea what cut they were; bigger than a big California super Burrito. We noticed that a lot of the guests brought coolers, and everyone left with leftovers. I asked Shelby if anyone finished their steak, and some did, she said about 5%. I'm a big eater, and I only made it about a third of the way through my steak, it was an intimidatingly large piece of meat. We all cut up our leftover steaks, grabbed a whole round of buns, put them in to-go bags, kindly provided by Shelby.
There we met Drew again, already set up for the night. It was clear he was on a speedier path than we were. Nice guy. The weather forecast called for rain. Cows were lowing, loudly, across the road. After getting our tents set up we gathered for our conversation, sitting on our camp chairs for the most part. Mark N. wanted to lead off the conversation, because he had important news; he had not been having a great time physically and would be abandoning, which definitely affected our plans. That was a bummer. He planned to hitchhike out to a city where he could take the train home. That dampened the mood. We also discussed logistics, that we would need to carry a lot of water the next day, filling up at the town of Fort Rock, visiting the Fort Rock volcanic feature beyond town, then pushing on to a spot either before, or after the crossing of highway 20, near Bend.
We reached the northern end of the O.C.&E. trail, where a gate warns south-bound travelers, “NO ENTRY - DANGEROUS CONDITIONS IN THIS AREA” here we noticed a nice flat spot with some tire tracks going to it. The two Marks had camped there, right past the gate. That brought us to Forest Road 27, which much of the Oregon Outback follows. It was paved, then dirt, and so much easier to follow than the railroad trail. It traveled through burned forests, under a cloudy, grey sky, through an austere landscape. We found some red-colored gravel roads, and wondered if this was the ’Red Sauce,’ but no; not yet. We came upon clouds of swirling birds, flying in undulating shapes, I think they were swifts.
They would fly off the ground as we went by and then immediately return to the ground, probably eating some bugs. They were beautiful. This was day two, Thursday. There were a lot of hunters in the area, and when we asked a local, we were told that Saturday would be the start of deer/rifle hunting season. Hmm, glad I had a red wind shell and an orange puffy jacket. If you do this ride in October, consider that factor.
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| Mark and Mark |
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| Photo by Monty Boyd - That is a 30oz steak. |
After a long series of dirt roads, riding at a pace that was targeting our 4pm reservation, we arrived at the Cowboy Dinner Tree with fifteen minutes to spare, where we met the two Marks and another bikepacker, Drew, who was on the same route as us. We also met Monty senior, Monty junior’s dad, and his wife Charlene, Monty‘s stepmother, who had driven out from Salem to meet us. Drew had found the ‘fancy bike pants’ that Mark N. had dropped, and restored them to him. The nine of us, minus Drew, sat together.
|
|
Andreas, Mark M., Mark N., Charlene, Monty Jr., Monty Sr., Greg,
Morgan, Adam photo by Adam Shapiro |
The Cowboy Dinner Tree is a fascinating, and apparently a very popular destination. I hadn't given it much thought, beyond ‘let's stop there.’ The route designer highly recommends stopping there. We'd all agreed to the reservations Greg had made, each opting for the only menu choice to be made; the 30 ounce steak, instead of the whole chicken. The place is rustic, a well-run operation with a very western, cowboy aesthetic. It's no show, it's obvious this place is a real cowboy mess hall from the old days. Our server, Shelby was a pro, and we had salads, big mason jars full of iced tea, iced lemonade and/or the Arnold Palmer combo, (minus the alcohol; no alcohol on premises allowed) bowls of beans with steak, fresh, hot buns, the main event; a gigantic cut of steak and a baked potato with all the fixings (chives, sour cream, bacon, cheese) and finally a choice of strawberry shortcake with berries or some sort of cream dessert. I think I drank two and a half big mason jars of lemonade and iced tea, I was parched. We'd all requested steak with our reservations. No choices were allowed for how the steak was to be cooked; the kitchen was absolutely in charge of the level of cooking, and I'd say they got it perfectly right; a nice sear, medium rare on the inside. These steaks were huge, I have no idea what cut they were; bigger than a big California super Burrito. We noticed that a lot of the guests brought coolers, and everyone left with leftovers. I asked Shelby if anyone finished their steak, and some did, she said about 5%. I'm a big eater, and I only made it about a third of the way through my steak, it was an intimidatingly large piece of meat. We all cut up our leftover steaks, grabbed a whole round of buns, put them in to-go bags, kindly provided by Shelby.
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| Mark N.'s bike |
We got some Cowboy Dinner Tree stickers to put on our Crank Tanks, said our goodbyes to Monty senior and Charlene, who left us all with bags of cookies, and then began our journey with the two Marks to Silver Lake, where we were planning to camp for the night.
We stopped at the first RV park, Elaine's RV Park, which did not inspire confidence. When I asked if they had showers, she told us they did not, but that the next RV park, behind the laundromat, did. We thanked her and headed that way, noticing that the FastBreak gas station in town would provide coffee and food the next morning. On arriving at Silver Lake RV & Mobile Home Park, we gladly paid $10 each to get tent spaces, access to showers and a bathroom, and a power pole at which to charge devices.
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