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Monday: Fire Watch
Up at a
reasonable hour, still mostly before anyone else though. Struck the tent,
packed up the car, readied the trailer. Stopped into the office to check
with Jennifer about road conditions. Jacques had left fairly early on
Sunday, concerned that the fires to the west might close Highway 20, and
force him to drive down Highway 97 to catch Highway 58 over the
Willamette Pass, a very indirect route, particularly when the
destination is Corvallis. The last news Jennifer had heard was that
although the fires weren't threatening the road, closure was imminent,
as Black Butte Ranch was likely to be evacuated, and fire crews and
residents leaving the area would need unobstructed access to the
highway. A check on the laptop connected to the internet confirmed the
bad news, the road was now closed to all but emergency vehicles and
residents leaving the area.
This new development was not particularly
welcome, especially because it would add many miles to my return home,
and take me over unfamiliar roads. The rumor was that Highway 242, the
McKenzie Pass, was closed to all trailer traffic, and my vehicle certainly
qualified on that account.
Jon had offered to be my chase vehicle, and
after meeting up this morning, we made plans as best as possible for the
trip back. He began packing up the last of his test, radio gear, and
other belongings, and I had an early lunch at the car, parked at the Pavilion
building to charge up and be close to any late breaking news about the
road situation changing, perhaps Highway 20 reopening. After eating, I
made a last trip into town to finish up some chores and get ready for
the trip.
The first stop was to purchase some fuel. The
trip to John Day had been a thirsty one for the Pusher, I had consumed
nearly ten gallons of Biodiesel, and had to top up the tank with
foul-smelling petroleum diesel. The gas station attendant was fascinated
to be pumping fuel into a trailer, and the customer at the other side of
the service island was a SolWest attendee who was filling up his motor
home for the trip into the Willamette Valley. He seemed fairly
unconcerned to be forced to drive the extra distance south to detour
around the fire, considering it just another scenic side trip. I explained
a bit about the pusher to him, we said our farewells, and set off to the
next stop, a beer, wine and cigarette store to buy two bags of ice.
At the NAPA auto parts store, I dropped off the
four quarts of used motor oil that came out of the Pusher to be
recycled, and then ran into the motor home driver again, shopping for
some oil or other product. I thanked the parts counter guys for their
patience and assistance this weekend, and then showed the RV'er my
ghetto air conditioning in the EV. The two bags of ice that I had bought
went into the air duct under the hood, known as the "rain
tray". All of the air entering the car's interior through the vents
has to travel through this duct, and in order to get inside the car, the
air has to now travel over and through the ice!
The rain
tray is lined with "bubble plastic", some leftovers from a
package that I unwrapped after receiving a shipment. The bubble plastic
insulates the ice from the car body and forms kind of a dam to keep melt
water from dripping into the passenger compartment vent inlet. Not shown
here are two additional rigid plastic covers like the one you seen in
the center of the rain tray. These help keep the ice isolated from the
hood, and help direct the air around a greater area of the ice. There
was room for one, and possibly two more bags of ice in the tray. I
probably should have just stuffed it full, but since this was the first
time I'd tried this, I opted for the two bags I already had as the initial
experiment. The rain tray has a pair of drain vents at the bottom, and
is designed to carry away water entering through the vent grille in the
rear of the hood, so the melt water from the ice will pose no problem.
Back at the
fairgrounds, I hooked up with Jon, and we prepared to leave. Our plan
was to go as far as Redmond, then check the road closures and make a
decision then as to what we would do.
Started the EV and Pusher, and pulled out of
the Grant County Fairgrounds. sometime around noon, headed into an uncertain
route west.
By all
indications, the Pusher was performing just fine. I kept an eagle eye on
the temp gauge and settled into driving mode. The ice in the rain tray
did make the air coming through the vents cool, but it wasn't like
having real air conditioning, I couldn't drive with all of the windows
rolled up. Just having cold air blowing on me from the dash vents was
welcome. At Dayville, I pulled over to have a look at the engine and
confirm that everything was as it should be. Back on the road, we got
stuck behind an old, slow motor home, without any good opportunities to
pass.
At the junction of highway 19, I pulled out at
a turnout to allow two logging trucks to pass, and to check the engine
again. This junction is at the bottom of the east side of the Mitchell
grade, my tough first test on the newly repaired engine, and I didn't
want any tailgating trucks. While we were stopped, I asked Jon to follow
a bit farther back, as I could actually feel the drag induced by his
vehicle behind mine.
The Mitchell grade didn't prove to be much of a
problem. The temperature gauge did rise, actually a bit higher than I
was comfortable with, but it quickly fell when the load was eased at the
summit. We descended Table Mountain, pulling into the tiny town of
Mitchell to do another engine check and to use the restrooms located
across from the city park. Hugh was in the cage with Henry (see my 2001
SolWest adventure for details), along with a couple of tourist's kids,
feeding the now adult bear some carrots. Said "Hi" to Hugh,
and went back to the car, where I managed to step in some gooey tar that
had melted in the hot sun. Great way to keep my upholstery clean. Back
to the road after a snack of dried fruit.
Ochoco Pass made the engine temp rise again,
but no problems associated with over temperature. I've decided that I
need to put the dual radiator fan setup on the trailer to help keep the
coolant temperature where it's supposed to be.
Prineville, then Redmond, where we stopped for
coffee and to formulate the next part of the trip. If it was going to be
necessary to take highway 97, we would make that connection here. I
stopped a pickup in the parking lot, and asked the driver if highway 20
had reopened. He said it hadn't. I asked about trailer traffic over
highway 242, and was told that small trailers are allowed. Jon and I
decided to go the 20 miles to Sisters and inquire there about traffic
over the Cascades. If we needed to take 97, we wouldn't need to come
back to Redmond, but could take 20 to Bend.
Things seemed normal enough in Sisters, so we
pressed forward, taking the cut off just outside of town to go over the
McKenzie Pass. A little ways up the road, a Forest Service vehicle was
set up as a check point in the road, probably to keep too-large of
vehicle from trying to use the highway ahead.
Highway 242, the McKenzie Pass, is some of the
most picturesque landscape in the state. it's also one of the most treacherous
roads in the state. Typically, it's closed from November until May or
June due to snow. The eastern side of this highway was fairly tame, with
many tight turns, but not too steep of a roadway. I was able to keep
ahead of traffic with no problems, using the Pusher and electric drives
to provide the power needed to reach the top.
As you climb this road, you enter into
wilderness, with frequent openings of lava fields towards the top. At
the summit, the trees and rocks give way to an immense expanse of lava
fields. A visitor's center has been built at the top, with a large rock
observatory crowned by a bronze disc engraved with pointers to landmarks
both near and far. Here you see a sample of the vista. Most of the views
are of more interesting things like majestic mountain peaks, but here
I've focused on the reason for our detour. What you see on the horizon
is smoke from the fire outside of Black Butte that closed the highway.
This photo makes the lava field, trees and nearby hills look kind of
tiny, but a person out in this landscape would be completely lost in the
photo by the scale of the surroundings.
Anyhow, after getting a bit of exercise climbing the several flights of
stairs to the observatory and snapping some photos, we're about ready to
get back to the road. The exercise was interesting because of the
elevation, we're over a mile up! A new record for the EV and Pusher. The
weather at the top was obviously clear and sunny, but because of the
altitude and the lack of humidity, quite comfortable.
Since the usual route from the valley to the
high country was closed, there were a lot of visitors to the summit this
day. It would be interesting to return sometime when the
"fast" route is open and see just how much traffic this scenic
route gets normally.
The EV had
consumed a fair number of ampere-hours from the battery pack while
climbing this mountain, but home is all downhill from here. We got
underway and began the descent along the narrow, winding road that
snakes off of the ancient volcanoes and into the lush McKenzie River
valley. This side to the Cascades would be a real challenge to the
drivetrain on any vehicle, but I'd never want to attempt climbing the
road we were now coasting down. The EV's regenerative braking did a fine
job of keeping the car and trailer's velocity under control, and it was
seldom necessary to use the brakes to maintain a safe speed. Of course,
the bonus was that I was also replacing all of those ampere-hours that
the car consumed on the climb to the top. Many switchback, dogleg, and
horseshoe turns in the road made it amply clear why trailers
"aren't recommended" on this highway.
As we descended, the air became hotter, and the
humidity rose dramatically. Our pleasantly warm high desert day was
rapidly becoming a valley scorcher. After being in such low humidity for
the last few days, it was a shock to remember that your body reacts to
wet heat by pumping out a lot of moisture of it's own. Over in John Day,
a tiny bit of perspiration goes a long way towards keeping you cool.
Here on the valley side, you can sweat buckets and still not get
any relief.
Eventually, highway 242 joins highway 126, just
a bit south of Belknap Hot Springs. Jon has never visited there, so I
made a short detour to stop for a walk around the grounds, and to get a
bit of a rest from all of the steering wheel twisting we had both just
done.
The next 60 miles was completely uneventful.
Jon and I parted company in the parking lot of a market in Springfield
just before we got on the freeway to our respective homes. Jon had
another 45 minutes still to drive to get to Albany.
Arrived to
find everything at home in order. Opened all of the windows to let out
the day's pent-up heat and began unloading the car and trailer.
Next year,
I'm going to surprise everybody. I'm going to actually drive to and from
SolWest 2003 without any breakdowns. Third time's a charm...
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