Week 13 of the 52s...The Wild

This morning before walking the dogs I was thinking this might just be the week I don't get to the 52s.  Unlucky 13 could become a reality as I've been too busy to think of something fun or new.

I shuffled through the brochures, flipped pages in a couple tourist guides, then found the map for the covered bridges.  I shoved it in my pocket, grabbed my camera and loaded the boys into the car.

After the walk, we drove north up the freeway for ten miles or so, then headed west into the wilderness--well, at that point it was mostly farmland, but it was definitely the outback.

The Rochester Covered Bridge, built in 1933.  It's apparently famous amongst covered bridge aficionados because of the lovely curved side windows and something called the Howe truss span, which to me just looked like big timbered Xs.  I didn't get a photo of them, mainly due to the fact this is a well-trafficked bridge and very narrow.  When cars came, I had to dash out of the bridge and off the road, though everyone was very friendly and drove slow enough for me to sprint out of the way.

Just ready to drive through to the other side...

On the other side, I've parked the car and crossed the road. The arched windows were very cool...

I wait until there aren't any cars coming, then decide to risk life and limb to get some shots out one of those windows...

But.  Just as I'm walking forward, I hear this odd rustling below me, under the road span.  I hate rustling.  Snakes and creepy things rustle.  Tentatively I peer over the guardrail...



Surprise, surprise.  A young turkey comes out of the brush, pays me no mind at all and keeps right on foraging...

So, I step inside the bridge and quickly take this shot of the river out one of the windows.  Then a flurry of cars came and I decided to call it good on the photos....

As I turn to walk back to the car, I see the turkey has somehow climbed out from under the bridge, up the slope and has crossed the road...

(In case you're wondering.  I can't speak for the chicken, but I know why the turkey crossed the road:  There was lots of fresh, green grass.

Back in the car, I drive over the bridge and come to the intersection where I can turn east toward the freeway, or continue west into the unknown.  I turn west.

Meandering along, Spring is verdant and lush in the valleys, there are baby lambs and calves, the sun is burning away the low-lying fog and I smile that I've made the right decision to explore.  Then I see a sign that says Wine Cave 4 Miles.  Wine cave?  I slow down, look left up this winding, mountainous, one-lane road to nowhere, and figure why not.  I tell the boys to fasten their seat belts and into the wild we go.

I got lost.  Seriously.  So, so incredibly lost.  We climbed up the mountain, curled down the other side, went up another, crossed ridges and streams, and the further we went the narrower the road became and the thicker the trees.  I thought once about turning around but by that time I wasn't exactly positive how many lefts and rights were behind me.  Could I even find my way back?  I wasn't...quite...worried.  Really, how lost can you be if you're still on a paved road?  Plus, occasionally I drove past homes, and wasn't too concerned by the Trespassers Will Be Shot signs, though when I thought I heard the twang of banjos playing the theme song from Deliverance, I did have a moment.

But, an hour and a half and quarter tank of gas later, we suddenly popped off a mountain road and there it was, right in front of us.  The Umpqua.  Like the early explorers, I couldn't be lost now, all I had to do was follow the river...

(Which, I might add, is a theory that only works as long as the road runs parallel to the blasted river!)

More driving until eventually I began to recognize some of the landscape, the mountains in the distance, even a radio tower that I can see far across the valley from my living room windows.  It still took a good half-hour to reach civilization, though I was almost reluctant to head toward it when I reached the crossroads.

It was a really great, most fun adventure.  Not only finding the bridge, but all the exploring and the vistas and the wildlife and beauty in an early Spring day.

Oh, and that Wine cave?  Clueless.  I never saw another sign once I'd turned off the main road.  Maybe some day I'll try to find my way back there.

On the other hand.  I'm not really fond of banjo music...