Bent Rag: a Kamping Tryppe

We started out at Clear Lake, the headwaters of the Mckenzie River. I'd biked around this lake many times, while doing the famous MRT trail, and always thought it would be a cool place to check out in a more leisurely non-biking way.

Grabbed a campsite on the SouthEast shore of the lake, and the kids had a blast exploring.

Went down the highway a few miles to check out some waterfalls. "I love nature!" Carmyn exclaimed.

We rented a row boat the next day. Clear Lake doesn't allow motor-powered water craft, and it is so clear, you can see down 30 feet easily.

After a fine day on the lake, we packed up camp and headed down to ChrisS's ranch near Cottage Grove, for some informal camping at Cedar Flats, a nice flat spot near the creek under the shelter of large cedars. This spot is used for guests who aren't allowed to use the house, due do violations on previous visits (for example, failure to remove shoes while in the house, spilling beverages, etc). JK of course !

We had to do chores, like vacuuming and watering trees

After a pastoral couple of days there, we headed up and over to the coast, to meet up with my bro Phil, for some beach time. I guess we weren't the only ones with this idea, as the first beachside campsite we tried was full. No problem, head up the coast 10 miles or so to the next campsite, which according to my guidebook, had over 300 spots, and was situated on a picturesque sandy peninsula. But once again, all spots reserved all weekend - people reserve 6 months ahead for this one. They guy there drew us a map for some other sites we might try further inland, so off we went. The first one, about 15 miles from the coast, was also full. Our second option was to find these dispersed free sites even further away. We kept driving up the dusty road, but found nothing except bullet casings and discarded beer cans. Hmm, this is backwoods redneck country, maybe not so great a place for camping with the kids...
Then as we stood outside our parked vehicles, pondering what to do, a car drove up and the occupants said if we were looking for camping, the designated spots were a few miles further up the road. They seemed like a reputable source, being a couple with kids who were also camping. Finally an hour or so later, we had found some dirty pullout near a stagnant stream, and decided to settle there for the night. The mosquitoes weren't too bad, and we built a fire and roasted some puffers.

Next day, drove 25 miles back to the beach at the campsite at which we were rejected the previous evening. The wind was brisk and the water cold, but the sand was...gritty - so a good time. Around 2pm, I sauntered over to Campground Control, figuring it was just past check-out time, and hoping that some disgruntled camper had unexpectedly evacuated their treasured spot. I got in the line-up and snagged the last campsite available. When I returned, Carmyn had befriended the horse-meister, and believed she was entitled to a free ride on a pony, for helping out with some brushing chores. But it turned out this was only a ploy to convince me to cough up $$$ for a short ride - seriously these guys were charging like $1200 / day for horse rides. So I had to explain to the big-eyed little girl that Dad can't afford it.