Succor Creek Getaway

I've spent a lot of time in Southeastern Oregon, but never managed to visit the Succor Creek Recreation Area.  It's located east of Owyhee Reservoir and near the Idaho border.   The Bride was visiting our youngest daughter, so the dogs and I decided a one to two night getaway was in order, it was also a chance to see how I could coexist with two large dogs in the ATC Cougar shell.

Following a gravel road out side of Adrian Oregon (Home of the Antelope), I soon found myself in open country that looked like this.  The green from our wet spring and good winter snowpack was starting to brown.  The terrain started to narrow, and I followed the creek through the narrowing canyon.

There were a few campers at the campground, but not many.   Just two young families, and a gent from Bend with another pop up camper.  It was 91°, so walking the dogs, siting in the shade and chatting with the gent from Bend, and having a cold beer seemed to be in order.  I did notice that one of the young families had a campfire even though all fires and open flames were prohibited, and I should have said something then.

The sun started dropping behind the canyon walls, and the temps began to slowly drop as well.  It's a pretty place, with lots of what I believe to be ash trees.  After feeding the dogs and myself, it was time to call it a night.  The nighthawks were booming, and I was tired.  I didn't check the time, but sometime close to midnight I was awakened to the sound of a van coming into the campground, then looking for a campsite.  Of course the lights were on as the driver drove around looking for just the right spot, and of course... the site they selected had the lights pointed directly at my camper.  The dogs took exception, and it took a bit to quiet them down.  If you see a guy in a van with California plates,  a man bun, and tie dyed sweat shirt, you may have found the villain. 

Awakened by the cheerful calls of yellow breasted chats and canyon wrens.  I was up and about early, and decided to not exact revenge on the nighttime intruder.  Just had a few cups of coffee, started breaking camp, and prepared to continue on to Leslie Gulch.  The young Idaho couple in their lifted Land Cruiser had also packed and were leaving, with their fire still smoking.  I stopped them as they left and told them their fire was not out, and suggested they return to the campsite and make it so.   When they noticed I wrote down their license number.  They did return and dowse it down with water from the creek.

Off I went towards Leslie Gulch, climbing into some of the most beautiful country I have been in.  

At the top of one climb, I found something I had not expected. Camped on a small turnout, with a steep drop on the canyon side was a Bowlus Roadchief Travel Trailer.  The Roadchief was the brainchild of Hawley Bowlus, who was the construction superintendent for Lindbergh's Spirit of St Louis.  His nephew Bob, who worked for Hawley, was one of my chemistry professors.

The scenery just got better. 

Reaching the turn to drop into Leslie Gulch, the scenery was stunning.

This particular section was also more troublesome than the others.  There were coveys of chukar all along the route, and I had two German Wirehair Pointers going nuts in the cab of the truck.  The chukar weren't as iPhone photogenic as the California (Valley) Quail.  I should have taken a big lens and better camera.

The scenery stayed spectacular. 

There were quite a few wildflowers still about, but this one caught my eye.   I don't recall seeing it before.  If anyone has an ID for it, please let me know.

All things considered it was a great, albeit quick, trip.   I learned that two high prey drive dogs are more that I want to deal with on a ramble like this.  I also learned I need to do a much better job of organizing and staying organized in a shell model pop up.  There was a lot of bird life, but noticeably absent were no large mammals, no pronghorns, mule deer, and bighorn sheep.  I need another trip into this beautiful land.  Perhaps to Jordan Valley next time.