rtraverdavis
Well-known member
- Joined
- Oct 20, 2016
- Messages
- 4,106
Yesterday morning I got to get out and do a little steelhead fishing on my favorite section of my favorite river. The Deschutes in Central Oregon was my second home for a number of years, back before my wife and I had kids, when I was a part-time fly fishing guide and full-time steelhead bum. Back then, I used to access the river—which is flanked on both sides by private land, with very, very limited access in most places—from my drift boat. But I sold my drift boat a couple of years ago after fatherhood and a new passion for hunting caused the boat to sit in the driveway and collect dust.
So the part about bad roads... I remembered from all of my float trips down through the lower canyon of the Deschutes that there was one road that the public could use to access the river, which descended north-to-south along the western canyon wall and dropped down to the river about seven river-miles up from where it empties into the Columbia. This gives access to some of the best steelhead runs on the whole lower river. But I also remembered hearing what a holy nightmare sphincter-clencher of a road it was. So yesterday, knowing I only had the morning to fish, and wanting to make the most of my time, I thought, how bad could it be? and decided to give it a shot.
Never again.
There’s a sign at the top of the canyon rim where the road begins its descent to the river that says “Caution, Narrow and Steep,” but crawling down it in the dark gave a distorted sense of just how narrow and steep it actually was. All I could really tell was that it had been washed out a bunch of times, as it was bony as hell with big jagged basalt rocks that caused my truck to pitch and lurch in all directions, sometimes out toward the deep black to my right which I knew to be the expanse of the canyon in the darkness. Within the first hundred yards of the descent I knew I made a mistake, but there was nowhere to turn around, and backing up was not an option, so I crawled the truck all the way to the bottom, toes curled and apologizing to my truck all the way down. Several times I could feel the rear end slipping and bouncing toward the edge, provoking guttural screams of obscenities to erupt from my throat. After as much time as it would have taken me to just hike the damn thing, I managed to make it to the bottom without major incident.
Throughout the morning of fishing, I would be hit with waves of dread for the drive out, mostly at the thought that someone would be coming down as I was going up, and one of us would have to back up to one of the two spots that are wide enough for two vehicles to pass. Driving this road in the daylight is far worse than in the dark, as you can see everything. Coming down I thought that the road’s boniness was its worst aspect, but there are sections that skirt sheer cliff faces which are so narrow that people have stuck rocks in the cracks along the edge to provide more footing for your tires. To go off the edge in one of those spots would result in a several-hundred-foot vertical tumble down the canyon. And though I made it out without injury or serious damage to my truck, I will never drive that road again. The whole time I was on that road I was thinking of @Europe ’s “Jesus Moments” thread, because I was having one. It’s one of the few times I can think of where it’s just physically easier to hike, given the stress that my both my heart and anal sphincter endured while driving it. I know there are folks that use that road all the time, but I guess I don’t have that sort of constitution.
A picture from the truck:
Another looking upriver from one of the two wide spots in the road:
So what are your bad/scary road stories? I’m sure mine is candy-ass compared to many of you guys. Post some pictures too, if you’ve got them.
So the part about bad roads... I remembered from all of my float trips down through the lower canyon of the Deschutes that there was one road that the public could use to access the river, which descended north-to-south along the western canyon wall and dropped down to the river about seven river-miles up from where it empties into the Columbia. This gives access to some of the best steelhead runs on the whole lower river. But I also remembered hearing what a holy nightmare sphincter-clencher of a road it was. So yesterday, knowing I only had the morning to fish, and wanting to make the most of my time, I thought, how bad could it be? and decided to give it a shot.
Never again.
There’s a sign at the top of the canyon rim where the road begins its descent to the river that says “Caution, Narrow and Steep,” but crawling down it in the dark gave a distorted sense of just how narrow and steep it actually was. All I could really tell was that it had been washed out a bunch of times, as it was bony as hell with big jagged basalt rocks that caused my truck to pitch and lurch in all directions, sometimes out toward the deep black to my right which I knew to be the expanse of the canyon in the darkness. Within the first hundred yards of the descent I knew I made a mistake, but there was nowhere to turn around, and backing up was not an option, so I crawled the truck all the way to the bottom, toes curled and apologizing to my truck all the way down. Several times I could feel the rear end slipping and bouncing toward the edge, provoking guttural screams of obscenities to erupt from my throat. After as much time as it would have taken me to just hike the damn thing, I managed to make it to the bottom without major incident.
Throughout the morning of fishing, I would be hit with waves of dread for the drive out, mostly at the thought that someone would be coming down as I was going up, and one of us would have to back up to one of the two spots that are wide enough for two vehicles to pass. Driving this road in the daylight is far worse than in the dark, as you can see everything. Coming down I thought that the road’s boniness was its worst aspect, but there are sections that skirt sheer cliff faces which are so narrow that people have stuck rocks in the cracks along the edge to provide more footing for your tires. To go off the edge in one of those spots would result in a several-hundred-foot vertical tumble down the canyon. And though I made it out without injury or serious damage to my truck, I will never drive that road again. The whole time I was on that road I was thinking of @Europe ’s “Jesus Moments” thread, because I was having one. It’s one of the few times I can think of where it’s just physically easier to hike, given the stress that my both my heart and anal sphincter endured while driving it. I know there are folks that use that road all the time, but I guess I don’t have that sort of constitution.
A picture from the truck:
Another looking upriver from one of the two wide spots in the road:
So what are your bad/scary road stories? I’m sure mine is candy-ass compared to many of you guys. Post some pictures too, if you’ve got them.
