Mountain Islands

In the midst of the sagebrush seas, across the West, are the mountain islands. Eastern Oregon has several of them all with lakes, rivers and tall pines-- Strawberry Mountains, Steens, Blue Mountains, Wallowas with sizable wilderness areas in all of them.

Many of these mountains were rich in minerals and therefore the sites of mining towns that sprang up over night and sometimes disappeared almost as fast. Some are now ghost towns but most have a few living residents who either don't like civilization, still pan a little gold, or hope for a new tourist boom. A few have the old store fronts still standing; some have almost completely gone back to nature. Others, like Sumpter, have a few flourishing businesses, and new home construction due to second home owners, year round recreation possibilities, and back to nature types.

In Granite, an old-timer (who might have been younger than me) sat in the back of the only restaurant in 'town,' entertaining himself by watching his wife fix our lunch and telling us grizzly bears had been released into the nearby woods by Fish and Wildlife people-- conspiracy music please-- released secretly!

He knew it was true because a local woman had been picking huckleberries and recognized the different shape of the bear's head. She confronted the Wildlife folks, and they admitted they had done it to get grizzlies reestablished in Oregon.

What do you do when someone tells you something like that? I smiled and said, oh my, rather than, I don't believe it! Well, I don't but then who really knows. Wolves and moose have come across from Idaho, but the general animal population in all those mountains would be consistent with most mountain habitats-- other than no wolves (yet) and no grizzlies.

For me, one of the neatest things about out back of beyond places is the uniqueness of the people who make their living there-- often barely.

In Whitney, a ghost town except for a few somewhat occupied cabins, a sign said speed limit enforced by 30.30. I wouldn't want to put it to the test.

Up a narrow, bumpy, one-lane gravel road was supposed to be Susanville. Over thirty years ago, when I first saw it, there were quite a few interesting old buildings still standing. This time, everything was fallen down but worse right at the entrance of what might be considered city limits, signs on both sides of the gravel road said private property, no trespassing, local traffic only (whatever that meant).

There was some grumbling about having to turn around after having come up so far on that awful road, but oh well... only to learn later the road was forest service, not private-- not legally anyway. Legal or not, their sign might have been enforced by Smith and Wesson. I prefer not finding out.