Scuttlebutt: Driving Rural California and Oregon
By Mitch McFarland
Madeline and I are quite happy living here in our cultural bubble, but when we leave here for one of our brief vacations, we often choose someplace that is vastly different politically. Part of the reason for that is that our state and nation has many wonderful places to visit and lots of them have conservative politics. Mother Nature doesn't care about politics. She just wants to continue creating natural wonders even if some of us are more interested in “conquering” nature.
What I find most odd is that generally when we visit rural areas (we avoid cities) we discover that we have a great deal in common lifestyle-wise, but cultural issues create wide gaps in our politics.
We recently came back from the northeast corner of the state in Modoc County. Our vacations often are planned to visit hot springs. This time we went to a place called Surprise Valley Hot Springs just outside of Cedarville, which is just a few miles from Nevada on Hwy 299. It sits next to a large dry lake that this time of year is snow covered as are the magnificent Warner Mountains, part of the Modoc National Forest.
We ventured into Cedarville to check the town out. It is no bigger than Point Arena, but did have a very inviting looking coffee shop. Advertising espresso and smoothies, the owner operator was a friendly woman who also sold local goods, ceramics, handicrafts, preserves etc. such as you would expect to see in any Mendocino town.
We spoke with the woman about the similarities of our small towns and how people needed to be more supportive of each other in rural areas. It must have been the floral tattoo on her back that “grew” up the back of her neck that threw me off. She wore a custom printed sweatshirt that bore the name of her business on the front, but when she turned around it read in large bold letters LETS GO BRANDON. That’s what can happen when you try to judge a book by its cover.
Next stop on our trip was in southern Oregon at another hot spring. We have been there before and were very impressed with the large hot pool inside of a barn. This place is very remote and not near any services so visitors are advised to bring their own food and provisions including bedding. We visited in the summer last time and so was not prepared for the fact that there was much snow on the ground at this 4200 foot elevation, something we had not counted on. We were quite disappointed when we were told that the big pool in the barn was drained in the winter due to the fact that its surface to volume ratio was such that they couldn't keep it warm in very cold weather. I thought it might be nice to mention that on their website. What was available were the outdoor tubs next to the barn. Having driven several hours to get there and with no nearby alternatives, we decided to tough it out.
We bravely bundled up and walked to the barn, quickly stripped down to our bathing suits and plunged into the water. Not surprisingly, trying to keep a tub hot in freezing conditions is not so easy. The tubs were above body temperature, not as hot as one should expect from a hot spring. Fear of exiting the warm water into the freezing air kept me in the tub until my fingers started to wrinkle. I got out and began drying off with my now frozen towel as my wet feet started to freeze to the frozen concrete walkway. Any calm and relaxation I might have acquired in the tubs quickly disappeared as I steeled my body during the 100-yard walk across the snow to our cabin.
By the time we made some food I was already beginning to feel sick with a cold. I likely contracted it before arriving, but the shock of the tub experience was the stress point that brought it on.
The little oil heater in our room was definitively not up to the task of keeping the cabin warn. We tried to amuse ourselves with a few hands of rummy, but soon decided to to bundle up and get in bed to try to stay warm. Madeline stuffed towels around the windows so that the draft leaking the minus 1 degree temperature might be reduced. We slept with knit hats on our heads, but I never felt comfortable or slept deeply and woke up stiff and cold.
I idea of going back to the tubs was completely off the table, so I suggested that we get out there in spite of having paid for a two-day minimum. When I returned the key the owner was very understanding of our desire to leave, but offered no recompense for our trouble.
We decided to go to Klamath Falls several hours away to spend the night. Klamath Falls has a really nice coffee shop and cafe with no Lets Go Brandon vibe. It seems Klamath Falls is sort of on the border between liberal western Oregon and conservative eastern Oregon.
One of the things I wanted to do in Oregon was buy some more shotgun shells. California has gun laws that require you to register to buy ammunition. In order to buy ammunition, you need to have a registered firearm. Though I am not a fan of the government knowing my business, I don't have a problem with our gun laws. The government already knows just about everything about me, so what's one more piece of information? The problem with that is that the computer system is a mess. I have spent hours trying to register, but twice when I went to buy shells the owner said I'm not registered. Why I can't just walk into a cop shop, show my ID and firearm and fill out a form to register is beyond me (and, apparently, the state of California). So I gave up on California and hoped to get shells in Oregon.
Just down the block from the hipster cafe we passed a place called The Gun Store. As I approached the entrance I realized that this store also serves as the headquarters of the Republican Party of Klamath County. I told you this was sort of a border town.
