I didn't tell Jesse where we were going, though when he asked if he could bring his surfboard I said yes to throw him off. We departed less than an hour later than planned, and drove south toward Salem. Not long after turning off the main freeway, I revealed our destination. "Sisters! I love Sisters," he said. "I have five of them."
After a 70-mile drive through thick cloud forest, drenching rain and past lovely, churning creeks (and Camp Attitude, of course), we reached the straightaway to Sisters. The small town consists of a bustling little main street, lined with shops, restaurants and llama farms. We decided to check out the cabin before venturing further.
I was told the little hut would be surrounded by big, luxurious mansions and was thereby frightened that the place might be a bit too "rustic" for my tastes. Not in the least! The sweet cabin was small but inviting, surrounded by birdhouses hung in trees, mounted on fence posts and propped on tables. The living room housed a wood-burning stove that I couldn't wait to utilize and the open kitchen featured a breakfast bar and nearly every kitchen tool one might need.
We dropped our belongings off and drove back into town to try out the legendary Sno-Cap Ice Cream. The smell of freshly battered onion rings wafted out the door as we waited in a line stretched around the front of the building. Jesse prompted me to order an indulgent root beer float...possibly the best I've ever had. We finished up and headed back down the road we had taken into town. We reached the turnoff for Jack Lake, my excitement growing in anticipation of a moderate hike to a gorgeous alpine meadow filled with more wildflowers than I'd ever seen, with a quick, cold stream flowing through its center.
We wound around the mountain, climbing higher and higher. At one point, a gorgeous female black-tailed deer appeared directly ahead of us on the side of the dirt road. She confidently stared toward us for several minutes, before calmly walking into the forest. I thought she was trying to communicate with us, but I wasn't quite sure what she was saying. In retrospect, I should have tried harder to discern her message.
We finally reached the parking area and stepped out into the very crisp mountain air. We located the trailhead next to a quiet, silvery lake. The surrounding forest showed obvious signs of recent widespread fire. The whole scene, save little bursts of new green growth, looked like a black and white film. Thin, scorched tree trunks leaned against one another, eminating a horrible, soft screaming noise. We climbed up the path, frequently having to jump over, roll under or hike around fallen tree limbs. We encountered increasingly large snow drifts and a huge outcropping of rock that Jesse was able to "boulder" and climb.
Shortly thereafter, my Piscean intuition kicked in and yelled at me to "Stop!" Jesse and I had a brief discussion about the high likelihood we would loose the difficult-to-spot trail and spend the night in these awful, haunted woods. I agreed to go another 10 minutes in the hopes of finding that seemingly imaginary flower pasture, but we lost our courage and turned back after only a few moments. I have seen way too many episodes of “I Survived” and “I Shouldn’t Be Alive” to make such an elementary mistake and a grievance against my instincts.
I was thoroughly relieved once we made it off the mountain and back into town. We drove to the Three Creeks Brewery in Sisters and tasted their mega-sampler. Wow. I’ve tasted a few beer samplers in my day, but this one was outstanding.
Back to the cabin. Jesse taught me how to play horseshoes (flip the wrist, get good speed and height) and we cooked maple-rosemary skirt steak, baked potatoes and corn on the cob for dinner. Heavenly! He proceeded to kick my butt in Trivial Pursuit and we browsed a local birding guide while relaxing after our meal. Sisters was proving to be the lovely, needed escape from suburban life that I had hoped for.
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