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Next Stop on the Eastern Oregon Swing is Leslie Gulch. A 20 mile dirt road leads past fantastic basalt rock formations terminating at the Owyhee River. There is a small but nice primitive campground (no water or electricity) with covered picnic tables and boat ramp access to the Owyhee river.
Next Stop on the Eastern Oregon Swing is Leslie Gulch. A 20 mile dirt road leads past fantastic basalt rock formations terminating at the Owyhee River. There is a small but nice primitive campground (no water or electricity) with covered picnic tables and boat ramp access to the Owyhee river.
You may have to stop for the occasional cattle drive on US Highway 395 in Eastern Oregon.  We were one of only two cars waiting patiently as we admired the scenery of this beautiful herd being ushered across by real deal cowboys and their herding dogs.  Yep, this may be the life for me.
The mountains of the Oregon Coast Range as seen from the eastern slope of Elk Mountain. None of these mountains tops off at much over 3000 feet (900 meters), but don't be fooled by that.  Elk Mountain is one of the toughest short climbs (we're talking "hikes" here), that you'll ever find.  And, if you're not a stickler about remaining on your feet the entire trail, you'll have a grand old time.
Here in the Great Northwest, those of us to take to the great outdoors generally have one destination, the Cascade Mountain range that runs pretty much through the center of Oregon and Washington going North/South.  There is the Olympic Range to the north and west, the Blue Mountains to the East and Steens Mountain at the edge of the desert near Nevada.  In fact, there are mountains all over the place, but those of us who hike and climb have essentially become snobs for the soaring peaks of the high Cascades.  So much so that when someone tells us about a place called the “Coastal Range” sitting on the eastern rim of Oregon’s beaches,  with its peaks topping out at a mere three thousand feet, we politely smile, and give off a glow of arch and patronizing wisdom.  Three thousand feet is like a day in the park; a game of “Shoots and Ladders.” We’d hardly start breathing heavily before the whole thing was over and we were packing up the car.
 
Well, folks, I am here to tell you; that kind of pride serves you well until you find yourself in the unenviable task of having to swallow it.  This weekend my hiking partner and I took to the road to make what we thought would a pleasant little jaunt up a version of “Candyland” called Elk Mountain.  What we “thought” could not have been further from the truth.  Meter for meter and foot for foot, it is one of the hardest climbs we have ever done.  Most of the first two miles is on no less than a 40% grade, some of it steeper, and I found myself clambering and clawing that ascension almost as often as hiking it.  The next two miles start with a near vertical drop of almost 60 feet (what the hiking books call a scramble), in which I was forced to use a part of my body not generally applied to locomotion just to keep my arrangement with the law of gravity at an even status quo.  At a certain point, the trail forks indecipherably, and the two of us found ourselves on the wrong tine of that fork as we watched the path erase almost like magic in front of us.   We took our life into our hands (frequently along with handfuls of wild rosebush thorns) by pushing up a seventy-five foot embankment to get enough elevation to see where we had gone wrong.  By grace or by fortune, that dropped us right back on the trail, at which point, the mountain seemed to believe that we had been taught our lesson.  There were more deep vertical scrambles (always down, why down?) and belly scraping, heart-pounding ascensions, but nothing of the kind we had already seen.
 
The last 4 miles bound and bounce down an old logging road, depositing you back at the place where you started, like Dorothy waking up in her bedroom; sad with newfound wisdom and heart aching with wonder.
 
It was painful, it was dangerous, and I tell you, my friends, I had a blast.
 
Beyond the sheer physical exertion, there are simply things to see that will make you marvel and gasp and keep you in a state where you feel as if you have permanently dropped your jaw.
 
And if this hyperbolic rant didn’t convince you to try it for yourself, maybe some of discoveries I post in the near future will.
 
If you’re up to the challenge, and don’t mind a little dirt, I highly recommend it.

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