Every once in awhile we go back through the video footage we’ve captured over the years… and there is a truck load (pun intended).

Our Baja Mexico overland adventure was one of our most difficult and rewarding trips we ever took on. Watching the footage I wanted to put something together that would give everyone a quick glimpse into that overland adventure and encourage others to get out of their comfort zone. The Baja California Peninsula is one of the last truly unspoiled places left on earth.

This little trailer video gives you a quick idea of what we saw as we traveled from Tijuana Mexico to Cabo San Lucas following the Baja 1000 race course gps tracks.  If you enjoy the trailer check out the full Baja Mexico overland story.

Oh my hell the Steens mountain was hard, but it feels so good to have done it!  The desert is the easy part of the adventure…  or so I thought.

Coming off the mountain is a pleasure. Sunshine, blue sky, the day is beautiful.  It’s taken a bit more fuel on the mountain than expected so a stop at Frenchglen to top off the tank is in order.  The trails go everywhere, and I’m just going to explore.

The trails don’t have markers, I’m all turned around.  I know I saw that clump of trees before.  This is okay right…  it’s why they call it exploring?  Motoring slowly down this two track looks promising. No markers, not on the map but it is going the direction that the wild mustangs are reported to hang out.

Dammit. The two track comes to an abrupt stop in the middle of no where at a fence line.  The sign is marked research area.  hummm

Climbing on top of the FJ Cruiser to get a better vantage, I see what looks like horses. They’re in the distance hills but the hike might be good for me. Hopping the barbed wire fence with the camera, tripod and an desire to get up close and personal with the wild horse I start hiking.   A mile later and I’m getting close enough that the mustangs are paying attention to me.  Time to channel my inner horse whisper.  Slowly walk 30 feet, stop, look away from the herd, stand still until they decide I’m not a concern and then move forward another 30 feet.  It’s taken me an hour to go a another quarter mile and now I find myself surrounded by wild mustangs peacefully grazing.

It is an amazing feeling being this close one of the most iconic symbols of the wild west. A little excitement, a little tranquility and a whole lot of these are 1,000 pound wild animals that could take me out at anytime if they decide. Sitting quietly I’m taking in the mountains, the mustangs and the complete wildness of the area.  The horses move about, occasionally looking my way but mostly paying attention to the other horses wondering all about.  It is a privilege to be a part of this scene.

The sun is staring to drop low and I am heading back to the truck trying to decide what’s next.  On the map there is a sort-of-marked 4×4 trail that looks like it heads in the direction I want to go so why not.

Driving trails in the dark is one of my favorite things.  The night is quiet.  Rabbits dart out, crossing my lit path and then disappear on the other side into the darkness.  Coyote howls are carried on the breeze and every once in a while I think I see something big in the shadows.  It is eerie and calming all at the same time. There is no reference to where I am.  The satellite puts me in a big gray space with no roads and there hasn’t been cell service for hours, but I’m still making slow steady progress over the 4×4 trail.  And based on the map…  I should pop out on a road soon(ish).

It’s 11:15pm. A light from a barn is coming into view.  This 4×4 trail has skirted much of a rancher’s land and is now depositing me on his door step, 20 yards from the highway.  Not exactly where I thought I was headed but it has been so much fun I didn’t care.

It’s late, my last meal was breakfast and I’m getting tired.  Looks like it will be best to head back to Page Springs for the night.  Three days I’ve ventured out…  and three nights I’ve returned to Page Springs, must be something in the water.  Tarp on the ground, stars over head, I’m asleep as soon as my head goes horizontal.

The Alvord hot springs have become a bit of a tourist attraction.  There is a caretaker, a parking lot, surplus MASH unit containers converted to cabins and a fridge with cold drinks.  $8 buys you a day in the hot springs, access out onto the playa (the dry lake bed that once extended a 100 miles) and use of a flush toilet, all of which I plan on taking advantage of.

The caretaker smiles, she gives me the run down of the area. “Drive in any direction, stay clear of the hot springs tail out, the gate closes at 10:30pm”.

The playa is dry and cracked.  It appears to go forever.   Heat rising off the playa make the hills in the distance dance.   Driving on the lake-bed is intoxicating.   I aim the FJ Cruiser north and drive, lazily serpentine loops back and forth until I reach what feels like the middle. Nothing in all directions for a couple of miles.  This is camp!

It is so quiet I can hear myself think…  that is not always a good thing.   Setting up the tarp, cooking dinner, and hanging out by the fire this is how camping alone is meant to be.

Some where in the very dark, very early morning, I wake to what Dorothy and Toto must have experienced on their ride to Oz. I had staked the tarp down but not for this.  Scrambling to find a light, the tent stakes, and hammer I get to adding guy lines and cinching the tarp down.  Each pull on the guy lines changes the harmonics from wild flaps to the taught hum of a snare drum skin. This wind storm is going to make for a long night.

Morning finds an eerie silence over the playa again.  The sun is warming on my face.  A quick inventory shows everything is still here in one piece. This may be a desert, but it is chilly.  Breakfast by the fire and a cup of camp coffee is what I need to set the world right again.

A week has gone by in a blink of an eye.  It may be time for a bath.  I’m definitely getting pretty rank. The crowds at the Alvord hot springs may not provide a mind blowing existential solo experience but soaking in the still waters is so worth every bit of that $8 price tag.  105+ degree water pulls the aches and pains out from deep in my bones. Literally four hours later I’m finally forcing myself to get out and head back to camp on the playa.

Packing up I can’t help but believe the night spent on the frozen Steens Mountain, wheeling through the night, meditating with wild horses and desert solitude have changed me a little… for the better.  Right now, right here, my soul is at rest.   I can’t wait to get back here.

It wasn’t supposed to be that hard! Everyone said the Steens Mountain area is beautiful in November. There just hadn’t been a November this wet in decades.  600 miles to get there and my windshield wipers do not get a break from the rain. Neither do I!

I hate camping in the rain. Everything gets wet. Packing up a wet tent (or in my case a tarp), running around in damp cloths, trying to dry out socks with the truck’s defroster…  it sucks.  Two days into this adventure and everything in the back of the truck is damp.  I it still have 150 miles to go.  When is the good part?

The appeal of the Steens Mountain area is that there is not much around it, at all.  Burns, Or. is the last real town I’ll see for the week,  next stop is at the north end of the wilderness, a little dot on the map called Frenchglen.  A historic hotel, a tiny general store and one working gas pump.  Grab a couple jugs of water, fill the truck and spare Jerry cans. It may be awhile before I see Fields, the only other spot on the map with gas and supplies down at the south end.

As I set up camp at Page Springs the sun is finally braking through the clouds and this promises to be a great trip.

The Donner und Blitzen, a beautiful little trout stream, runs right  through Page Springs campground. The fall colors are magnificent and a small herd of deer have made this campground their home.  Everything is starting to look up as I lay my head down under the tarp, shaking off the last of the dampness.

The Steens Mountain area is made up of 170,200 acres and was designated as a wilderness area by congress in 2000. Today’s plan, follow the mountain loop, a gravel road up to the summit, find a cozy  place up top to spend the night and enjoy an evening by the fire under the stars.

The sun is shining bright, the sky is cloudless and blue.  I’m making good time driving the gravel loop as it works it’s way up into the hills.  Continuing to gain elevation the road is showing light but increasing snow cover.  Passing Jackman park, the snow on the road is around six inches deep with no tire tracks.  I realize as I continue to drive, it is unlikely anyone will be coming along behind me if I get stuck.  I tell myself, it will be fine, just keep it slow and steady. Around Kiger Gorge lookout, the truck is starting to fishtail back and forth every once in awhile in the sloppy snow now 10-12 inches on the road.  Time to consider my options.

The easy choice, the safe choice, is to turn around and call it a day.  But I’m not known for hitting the easy button.  I weigh the risks, consider various ways I could die on the mountain and come to a decision.  Time to chain up.

Chains and mud tires were never meant to go together,  The tire lugs are making it a pain in the ass to get the chains lined up and tight.  At 9,000 ft(ish) I’m getting winded with all this work, humping chains around, setting up camera shots, shoveling snow to clear the tires…  Should have packed an oxygen bottle instead of that extra pound of bacon.  Time to get back in the driver’s seat.

The FJ Cruiser is motoring along great but the snow drifts are quickly getting deep.  The rear wheels push the truck forward but the front skid is riding up like a toboggan in the deep snow and lifting the front off the ground.  Progress is limited to push forward 10 feet until the front lifts off the ground and before the rear tires lift, back up, get a running start and push forward another 10 feet.  Rinse and repeat for the next 20 minutes and hope the truck doesn’t high-center in the snow that is now about two feet deep.

I’m walking sections of the road to see were the edge is before charging forward.  I’m shoveling areas to clear the pile of snow my front-end pushes up.  This is frustratingly slow and taking a toll on my mental state.  We’re close to the top but it is getting late.

A couple more long pushes and I’m moving free again.  This is it.  Now hike the last bit…  Cold, windy, and getting dark. So worth it!

The flat spot if found for the night has a great view but the idea of setting up the tarp with the wind hollowing is more than I can manage.  I’ve napped in the truck’s front before…  how bad could it be.

As night falls I sleep a few hours, wake up, try to find a less uncomfortable position that doesn’t require master yogi skills and sleep a little more.  It’s a rough night.

First light lets me know I’ve survived the night. Time to get off this mountain.  But first…  Breakfast!

Episode 2 – Steens Overland Adventure on to the Alvord Desert

We took a light Sunday stroll through parts of the Tillamook State Forest, west of Portland. Joining me in Big Red (a 3B-powered BJ60) on this rainy President’s Day eve, is Chris “Young Turk” Pesek. The outing is long overdue; over the past year, we probably haven’t wheeled three times between us. (Let us pause for the compulsory moment of mourning and handwringing.) If that wasn’t bad enough, Old Man LGRT has been on our backs, threatening to strip our LGRT team status if we didn’t address our Nature Deficit Disorder “with all due haste”. YT (naturally) is in better shape than me, getting some time in on his dual-sport cycle. And his cycling buddy Eric is along for the ride in Big Red. (Eric has the wheeling bug now as well, and is furiously in search of his first wheeling rig. Feel free to post your vehicle suggestions to LGRT.)

After picking up ATV permits at the Shell station along Highway 6 (near milepost 42), and a few whacks on Big Red to free up a recalcitrant parking brake, we fly straight past Rogers Camp trailhead on the way to South Fork Road (just past milepost 28, on the left). We’d planned to do a route we’d done many times before: head up South Fork Road (through Lyda camp) to the Hoodraiser and nearby Hogs Back trails, follow C-Line Road southeast near the south boundary of the park to Firebreak Five, and then run Cedar Tree top to bottom (and north) on the way out to Rogers Camp and Highway 6.

Hoodraiser is a nostalgic favorite. Chris and I cut our wheeling teeth with the Northwest FJ Cruiser Club, which had adopted Hoodraiser when we were members. (And had FJ Cruisers. The FJ Cruiser has proven itself a notoriously effective gateway drug. Eric, take note.) With our friends in the NWFJCC, we’d spent many many happy hours maintaining the trail.

Hoodraiser is an easy drive with few turns, traversing up and over many swail berms, hence the trail’s name. On the second half of this warm-up trail, the snow depth steadily increases as we climb, until at last there are no recent tracks. On one of the last climbs, Big Red scoots up nicely, but I lose momentum and come to an inopportune stop midway in the climb. The loose, wet snow on top gives way to ice on a couple of quick tries to right matters. It’s early in the day, and the path of least resistance is to back down, turn around, and carry on.

Carrying on (according to plan) involves following South Fork Road uphill, parallel with Hoodraiser. With (now) expected results. We are prepared for this, but after a good stretch of additional rain and warmer temperatures, none of us really expected the amount of snow remaining. (NOAA weather reporting on local snow levels was also off; it would be snowing down to about 1500′ all day, whereas the reported snow level had been 2500-3000′.) On reaching the intersection of South Fork and C-Line (Hoodraiser exits at the top on C-Line), we’re in axle deep, or deeper, snow.

Over the years, Chris has displayed an impressive ability to throw his vehicles into snow with innocent abandon. And true to form, Big Red is soon — wait for it — stuck. A quick pull later, we proceed to saw and crawl the rigs to a nearby bare spot under some some tree cover.

Decision time take two. Air and chain up for the several miles drive along C-Line to get to our chosen next destination (Firebreak Five or Cedar Tree)? Or head back down South Fork to Highway 6 and head to the trails from Rogers Camp? Once again, we opt in favor of an earlier arrival at the (next) trails and limp back east on Highway 6 to the Rogers Camp exit.

The forest has been eerily quiet this Sunday. So far we’ve seen just a trio motorcycles in and around Hoodraiser; we’ll see just a couple trucks along Cedar Tree, running in the opposite direction. The number of trailers parked at Rogers Camp trail head also seems surprisingly light for this holiday weekend.

Our attempt to reach our destination from the east is rewarded. Though the snow gets deeper as we climb, we’re easily able to get to Saddle Mountain Road and to the top of Cedar Tree. Trail ho!

Turning in, we can see some recent tracks through the top of the trail. But Cedar Tree — named for the signature fallen cedar on a lower section under which many (but by no means all) rigs can pass — has a pretty dense canopy, so there’s not a ton of snow on it in any case. This is simply a great Pacific Northwest trail, twisting and turning up and down through the trees and vegetation. There’s not a lot of tricky stuff here, just enough to keep you sharp and provide opportunities for dusting cobwebs off basic skills such as seeing the trail over the hood, good tire placement (and general line picking), and left-foot braking. All in all, this is one delightful drive through the forest.

The biggest challenge today comes along a bottom section, with a tight squeeze between some rocks and an inopportunely-placed tree. You know the sort of thing: impending carnage from a downhill-side tree pushes you towards the rocks, while crawling the rocks on the uphill side tips the truck and its external bits into the tree. Rock. Hard place.

Through use, perhaps helped along by the recent spate of wet weather, these particular rocks have become much more dug out — certainly more than we can recall in about ten years of running Cedar Tree. So much so that some very recent, “creative” attempts to avoid the obstacle have widened the trail by cutting an undesignated bypass on the uphill side. It’s hard to know whether to attribute this to ignorance or disregard. But the governing principle here is pretty clear: if you’re unable or unwilling to stay on the trail through an obstacle, carefully turn back. Put another way, if there’s no designated bypass, don’t make one. Far from an exercise in ego-boosting, this is a simple matter of protecting trails so that we all can continue to enjoy them. Tread Lightly out there, kids!

Sizing things up, we make it over the obstacle relatively unscathed — the stock rear bumper assembly on a NAS Defender 90 enjoys asserting itself — with some light spotting and complete this delightful trail. By now it’s about 3:00PM and I have a good several hours ahead of me to make it back home north of Seattle. And so it’s back to the trailhead to air up, check things out, and head out. Any day wheeling….

Bonus travel-brochure notes

If you don’t already know, the OHV areas in Tillamook State Forest comprise a most excellent off-road trail system, with (according to the 2014 guide and map) more than 250 miles of OHV trails at all skill levels, for everything from motorcycles through four-wheel drive buggies. Managed by the Oregon Department of Forestry (ODF), TSF OHV areas also include multiple campgrounds and trailheads to help make the stay even more enjoyable. As with OHV areas elsewhere in Oregon, the ODF actively partners with clubs and other volunteers for trail maintenance and more should you and/or your club want to become involved as stewards of this considerable resource.

See the links below for additional details:

• TSF OHV map
• TSF OHV trail reports
• TSF blog
• TSF volunteering

In addition to being a multiple-use facility, TSF is also a working forest. So while roads and trails are generally well marked, junctions might come and go.

Pictures by Young Turk and Other Paul and Eric Hedaa

We’ve gone across the Rubicon Trail in our FJ Cruiser twice without so much as a scratch… well without noticeable body damage.  But it is the relatively easy Naches wagon tail that seems to always cause us problems.  Sure we have followed the Naches wagon trail dozens of time to cross over Washington’s Cascade mountains but it’s this easy trail that has caused all of our body damage.  And this time we captured it on video!

We all have those places we cherish and this trail remains one of our favorite ways to spend a day.  You’re hard pressed to find a trail with more spectacular scenery.  There is just enough hill climbs, off camber and bumps to keep it fun along with several tight squeezes that prevent you from thinking this is walk in the woods.

Maybe it’s karma, maybe it’s just bad luck, or what ever that this wagon trail we love caused us so much pain.  Will it stop us??!! Absolutely not!   We really do love this place.

It’s Thursday, our FJ Cruiser, the Blue Bunny, is fully packed and sitting out front of work like a beacon to the weekend’s off-road adventure. Punch the clock at noon and I’m out the door to jump start the long weekend adventure. This is going to be great.

By 12:05p.m. I’m on I5, stuck in traffic trying to get out of Seattle.  The speedometer registers 10mph…  when we’re moving at all that is.  A cool breeze is caressing my face, uninhibited by the Meta Tech 4×4 tube doors that hang in the space once occupied by factory sheet metal and glass.  Other drivers wave.  Some inquire where we’re going.  I smile and shout back to each probe; “Heading off the grid in central Oregon.”

2:30p.m. and the traffic snarls of Seattle, Tacoma and JBLM are a distant memory. This is going to be great.

Just south of Olympia, Washington the speed limit jumps to 70 MPH.  It is at this point the clouds unload.  A few drops at first.  Then a bit stronger.  A mile further we’re driving in a monsoon with winds pushing rain sideways through the large opening to my left and right.  Every 18 wheeler that rolls by creates a mix of water, oil and road grime that washes into the cabin.  An inch of water is pooling in the floor mats.  I’m wiping down the inside of the windshield with a towel, everything I own is getting wet.

This adventure is not off to a great start.

By the time we reach Portland, Oregon the rain is a manageable sprinkle but commuters desperate to return home have created gridlock.  All ODOT message boards read: “Congested Traffic Ahead”.

I’m wet, in need of fuel and looking at cranky in the review mirror. Wilsonville, Oregon means a stop for gas and a quick howdy to family who offer a dry towel.

You really can’t say a quick hello to family who live 300 miles away.  There is the obligatory one beer.  Stories of the girls soccer game.  How’s work going questions and the polite chit chat that follows.  The clock reads 8:00p.m. and I’m starting to fidget.  We have to get on the road.  It’s still another four hours to our destination.

Despite being off schedule, the time spent with John and the girls is exactly what was needed.  The rain has let up.  The traffic is light again and the sun is casting its late evening colors across a darkening sky.  I’m dry (ish) and heading south once more.  This is going to be great.

You don’t normally consider hypothermia a threat while driving down the highway.  Cruising up the mountain passes the temperature is quickly falling into the low forties.  Add to that the windchill factor of tube doors, combined with a general dampness that clings to every article of clothing and you can see how the gods have conspired to lower the entertainment value of this trip.  I man up, one hand on the steering wheel while the other is perched over the open heater vent until it is warm enough to take its turn on the wheel.

I spent a great deal of my youth camping, fishing and exploring the headwaters of the Metollious River.  In those days, I never had reason to keep going.  These days, if you want to get away, you have to keep going.

Google map’s directions call for a right onto a forest road before Camp Sherman.  According to Google, forest road 1400 makes a few turns and intersects with FR 1490.  The problem is Google’s directions, the forest road numbers and my vague memory aren’t lining up.  Drive a mile or two down the gravel road, look at the directions, check the map, turn around try the other direction…  It’s 1:00a.m.! Emotional turmoil does not begin to describe this mess!  It’s time to stop!

Camp ground after camp ground along the headwaters and all spots are occupied with trailers, RVs and blaze orange tents or worse, big “reserved site” signs. Since when do they take reservations here!! Oh my hell, it’s the middle of the week, don’t these people have jobs??!!  The one open spot I can find in the dark is next to the outhouse, across from the garbage bins with ground that slops down hard to the left.

The night is black as ink, misty and cold.  No camp niceties tonight, just get the tarp up and sleeping bag down so i can warm up and grab a few winks.

The trip may have gotten off to a rocky start but morning brings a renewed vigor. Armed with a couple maps,  my sidearm,  and the desire to get off the grid we  orient  and motor past the general store, by Wizard Falls and beyond lower bridge where the pavement ends.  Twenty five miles of dirt road, not recommended for passenger cars, trailers or anyone concerned with their suspension separates us from our destination.

Crushed red lava rock gives way to exposed football sized stones and washboard as we endeavored to persevere This is going to be great.

The Metolius River’s head waters gush directly out of the mountain side.  It is a site that  seems to contradict conventional thought.   By the time the Metolius reaches Lake Billy Chinook, the gentle spring creek has turned into a raging river. Camp Monty sits where the two waters collide.  No cell coverage, no electricity, no potable water  and no one else here!  This is going to be great.

For the next few days we venture out exploring unnamed two tracks.  A few clouds break up the blue sky.  The sun’s rays warm our face and a light breeze is at our back. Song birds sing their tune. Ground squirrels dart back and forth across the trail ahead of us.   Our pace is slow, we’re in no hurry.  Each time we round a bend, the trees open up to valley views that stretch for miles before us.  In the distance Mt Jefferson and Black Butte make their presents known.  And still we haven’t seen anyone else.  This is a great adventure!

When I was young I would follow the Clackamas River up into the mountains looking for a quiet place to wet a fly and spend a night under the stars.  One of my favorite areas was around the Ripplebrook Ranger Station.  Once again I find myself in Portland with my FJ Cruiser,  a free Saturday  and a desire to head back up the river to explore my past.

Late fall and the traffic is sparse as the river narrows and I close in on the ranger station.  I pass familiar camp names like Roaring River, Rainbow River and Alder Flats.  Not much has changed in the sparse camp sites.  Their only amenities  are a rustic hand pump for potable water, heavy wooden picnic tables, fire rings  and a couple of outhouses.  What they lack in creature comforts they more than make up for in natural surroundings.

Even 30 years later there is still room to explore up here.  The endless unpaved backroads go off into the hills, climbing over passes and dropping down into valleys filled with tumbling streams and small shimmering size lakes.   Views of Mount Hood and the sound of moving water seem to be around every turn.  It’s the water that draws me back here.  The sound of moving water causes a cascading flood of wonderful memories: Fly fishing for small, native Cutthroat and Rainbow Trout, camping along a babbling brook, quiet nights alone by a fire, exploring unnamed forest trails…  The water reminds me that life is best experienced by letting it wash over you and drinking it in fully rather than battling the currents in a rush to get out of its way.

As darkness overtakes the day, I find myself sitting next to a small lakeside fire, listening to the forest as the flames push back the high mountain chill.  I’ll head back down into the hustle and bustle of PDX soon but for now I’m content to appreciate one of the places that taught me the value of looking beyond the next bend in the road.

We love solo off-road adventures but exploring with a team of friends can take it to another level.

We’d put in a day of wheeling, over the historic Naches Wagon Trail, to get to the eastern side of the Cascade Mountains.  A week earlier the weather was hot and dry but now a summer rain storm has cooled everything down and it’s wet.  On a solo adventure the rain would have us crawling into our sleeping bag early but on this adventure Young Turk extended the awning and we are all burning the midnight oil.

I put together this team (Other Paul, Young Turk, Voodoo Brad and his son MJ) knowing each person’s skills and personality to ensure a good match.  On the trail everyone had each others back.  We all rushed to support Young Turk’s experimental physics mishap involving kinetic energy, a Hi-Lift, his rear window and about ten tons of force. 

We all kept an eye on each other as our trucks crossed over the narrow bridges making sure no one misplaced a wheel as the old wooden beams creaked, clattered and groaned under the weight of the trucks.

Around camp everyone is sharing stories and laughing into the wee hours.  Friendships are being cemented and a group of individuals are forming a bond that will carry them through this off-road adventure and on to the next.

A team has a different pace.  You can’t control every detail and you must trust what each individual brings to the group. But what you give up in control, you pickup ten fold in support and comradery.  These individuals have come together and are a team I trust on any off-road adventure.

The NW Overland Rally (NWOR) is currently being crushed under the weight of its own success, but don’t let that stop you.

It’s hot. Death Valley, hurts to inhale, no shade to be found, zombie face  melting hot. At one point the temp read 106 Fahrenheit.  In the center of a hay field, hundreds of people are shoehorned into 20×20 sqft spaces to park their truck, erect their campsites, arrange their adventure trail and  attempt to manufacture shade. I’ve had more privacy camping in the Walmart parking lot.  The upper section has become tent city where all the dual sport guys are lined up tent to tent with motorcycles stacked one after another.

The NWOR’s premire sponsor is Touratech, a big deal in the dual sport motorcycle world and their marketing budget can be seen in the professionalism of the two wheeled events. There is an offroad course where PSS Off Road provides hands-on beginner and advanced rider training (for a fee).  Professional led moto sessions addressing everything from bike field repair to readiness inspections.

The four wheeled side of the house is supported by volunteers (we helped with the advanced recovery session).  Outstanding support from the volunteers but hardly comparable to guys who are getting paid to be there and plan out the details.  For example: when 70ish trucks showed up for a morning scenic drive everyone did their best to divide up the convoy into more manageable groups but that is a lot of trucks at once.

The intermediate drive didn’t fair much better.  It took several hours too long when the large group had to be held back while a dozen trucks at a time were lead up and back down the last half mile.

The campfire MC worked the crowd like an MTV spring break party at Fort Lauderdale. Not the campfire experience we were looking for.

There were numerous interesting sessions packed into two days.  In fact with all the overlap of sessions, it felt like there was too much and no way to see all the sessions I was interested in because of the overlap.

If you came to wheel or if you came to spread out… you were sorely disappointed. But that is not what NWOR is really all about.

The overlanding world is filled with amazing, friendly, warm, welcoming people and this is why you come to NWOR! NWOR is about community and making connections with those who share a love for exploring the road less traveled.  We reunited with a few old friends we’d not seen in years.  We met several new folks who like us are always looking to see what is around the next bend in the road or over a distant mountain pass.  We shared stories.  We talked travels and exchanged ideas.

We did manage to sneak off on our own to get a little wheeling in.  We escaped the heat, temporarily, down at the river and enjoyed dining out in Levenworth’s air conditioned restaurants.

In just five years NWOR has gone from dozens of attendees to hundreds.  To say the least they are going through some growing pains and like a case of teenage acne they will get past it.  The event will continue to attract fabulous people who want to spend a long weekend sharing their stories with others who love the road and can’t wait to explore areas unknown.

We’re already planning to go back next year!

Central Oregon is a stark contrast to the wet, muddy, forested off-road areas of the western coastal side of the state.  High plains, filled with sage, juniper and scattered Ponderosa  pines growing in reddish brown pumas sand, from not so extinct volcanoes, fill the landscape.  Cold in the winter, hot in the summer. Clear dry skies most of the year.  Central Oregon is a great option for off-road adventures.

Searching for an alternative to Oregon’s Tillamook Forest off-road area, we set out to explore Cline Buttes’ new(ish) 4×4 trails.  The 32,000 acre Cline Buttes  recreational area has been established to serve all types of outdoor adventurers.  Large chunks of land have been carved out for motorizes and non-motorized trail use as well as blocks for those who prefer to travel on two feet or even four hooves .

Five miles east of Sisters, nine miles north of Bend and a short drive west of Redmond Oregon, Cline Buttes is easily accessible from just about any direction (Cline Buttes recreation area).  Its proximity to these iconic western towns allows those who’s idea of roughing it involves room service to find all levels of lodging and meal options.  When it comes to sitting around a camp fire and looking up at the stars, Cline Buttes offers plenty of dispersed camping options.  (The area does get dry so be sure to check the fire restrictions before you go).

A staging area in the north east corner provides plenty of parking and an outhouse.  Everything else will need to be packed in, and packed back out.  From here an easy 4×4 off-road trail takes you out into the heart of the off-road area connecting to several options.

The 4×4 off-road trails are categorized as easiest, more difficult and most difficult.  Most stock, high clearance 4x4s are more than a match for the easiest and more difficult trails. Drivers would be well served to have a lift, taller tires and rock rails before traversing the most difficult trails.  Additionally there is a “play area” where cross country travel is permitted.

We explored the Cline Buttes OHV area in late November following a week of warm torrential rains.  What we found amazed us.  The lava sand and rock trails were well drained with only a few scattered puddles on Barr Road.  No mud or slippery rocks that can take the entertainment value out of navigating tail obstacles with open diffs.

The down side of wheeling under clear blue skies this time of year in central Oregon is that it gets cold, really cold.  The mercury barely topped 24 degrees Fahrenheit at lunch time and dropped into the teens as we climbed into our sleeping bags.  The upside of the cold weather…  We never saw another truck on the 4×4 off-road trails and we covered a good chunk of most of them over two days.

Maybe it was the outstanding weather, maybe the great trail conditions or just that it had been awhile since we’d explored something new, but Cline Buttes has definitely moved into the top 10 list of great off-road adventure locations.