Considering that I’m a girl born and raised in Alaska, it seems a bit strange that I’d feel happiest, often as not, in the desert. Maybe it’s the quality of the light, or the dry heat. Maybe it’s the way the rocks glow and crumble, maybe it’s the animals and insects that live in places things shouldn’t be able to live. Whatever it is, I’m in love with deserts. I recently took a road trip with a friend of mine to Summer Lake in south central Oregon. There’s a hot springs there, you can rent a cabin or just pitch a tent, soak in the pools, wander off on the playa, lay out at night and stare at the amazing stars blazing down at you. It’s worth the trip, assuming you like deserts, hot springs, and miles of empty highways….
Did I mention empty highways?
These were possibly the most curious cows I have ever encountered. They could not keep away from us. They’d creep up to the fence, we’d get too close and they’d run away. Then they’d creep back to the fence, then run away. Rinse, repeat. About a full hour of fun doing that. Seriously, you get your kicks where you can in rural Oregon.
The three outdoor pools, and inside the barn is the large pool. Heaven, I tell you. I would have taken a shot of the indoor pool, but it’s clothing-optional in the evening and I didn’t think the other guests would feel too comfortable with some weirdo taking nudie pics of them.
Some adorable horses who were clearly in desperate need of petting. I know the feeling, man.
The view from the back porch of our cabin. We got the oldest structure on the property, about 100 years old. Little kitchens, little bathrooms, all creaky at night when the wind blows, the cabins are great.