One of our themes on this journey is to go where we've not gone before. We left known territory yesterday afternoon, when we turned on to Oregon Hwy 31 just south of LaPine. "31" heads S/SE across magnificent outback . . . past placemarks such as Fort Rock and Christmas Valley. Straight-arrow highway slicing through a valley floor carpeted in sage, still gray and winter-brittle. Dirt and gravel side roads coming from across the prairie to meet us are named for the folks who drive them: Red House Lane. . . Hamlin Drive. . . .Weaver Road.
For maybe 80 miles, we were the only car going our direction, and we encountered few coming towards us. Not far from Lakeview-- where we had a room waiting for us at the dog-friendly Best Western--that golden time of late afternoon enveloped us and lulled us into our individual reveries. So easy to let our shiny white (rented) Toyota Highlander--aka Hillary--take her lead. We sat up straight, tho, when we passed a navy-blue car with yellow stripes hunkering in the bushes beside the highway. Oops.
G was only going 73 in a ridiculously low 55 zone. The polite young man who asked for our documents looked about 12, and he wore his spiffy blue uniform with endearing pride. He let us off with a warning, this time. "We love this place," I gushed. "It's so beautiful! Do you live around here?" He softened and smiled wide-- for a brief moment no longer just an Oregon State Policeman. "Yes I do. Third generation." I glanced at his namebadge on the front of his shirt. "Weaver," it said.
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I will be keeping tabs on you guys, have a great and safe trip.
ReplyDeleteGlad you just got off with a warning.
Bonnie Anderson
otherwise you'd have to interrupt your trip to show up in court in southern oregon....
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