Southern Oregon is a funny place, in oh so many ways. In particular I'm thinking of my tendency to wander all over the state, for hours on end, in almost any direction but south. That direction leads to the strange, foreign land of California, which is obviously another world despite the fact that it's only 18 miles away. There's a perceived barrier that halts my imagination in its tracks when casting around for the next adventurous destination.
This weekend we decided to cross that barrier and head south to see what we could find. Mt. Shasta is visible from many of the peaks around here, and we got the chance to see it up close and personal. We took a quick tour through the town of Weed (named after its founder Abner Weed, but now rife with hilarious connotations) and stopped at the brewery there for lunch. There were a lot of empty store fronts on Main Street, a couple of tacky shops on the highway selling "I Heart Weed" shirts, and a surprisingly nice community college. The brewery was quiet but delicious.
On down the road we headed into the town of Mt. Shasta, its namesake looming in the background. There's a healthy population of hippies and wealthy retirees, somewhat like Ashland, and it made for some good people watching. The forest service office there provided us with some fodder for future excursions, before driving up the mountain to see what it was all about. Mt. Shasta towers over its neighboring peaks at 14,179 ft, making it especially striking since the valley floor is only 3,000 ft. There's a wilderness area covering much of the peak above 10,000 feet but since Bubba couldn't read the signs it wasn't a problem. The road dead-ends at the old ski area, empty now except for the parking lot, a couple trail signs, and some hippie rock art.
From there we took the back way to the active ski area, which was kind of disappointing given the terrain we were looking at. We may have to make our way back in the winter anyway, just for the fun of it. By the time we headed back north the clouds had cleared from the peak and I was able to convince Carl to pull over so I could get a picture of it.
This weekend we decided to cross that barrier and head south to see what we could find. Mt. Shasta is visible from many of the peaks around here, and we got the chance to see it up close and personal. We took a quick tour through the town of Weed (named after its founder Abner Weed, but now rife with hilarious connotations) and stopped at the brewery there for lunch. There were a lot of empty store fronts on Main Street, a couple of tacky shops on the highway selling "I Heart Weed" shirts, and a surprisingly nice community college. The brewery was quiet but delicious.
On down the road we headed into the town of Mt. Shasta, its namesake looming in the background. There's a healthy population of hippies and wealthy retirees, somewhat like Ashland, and it made for some good people watching. The forest service office there provided us with some fodder for future excursions, before driving up the mountain to see what it was all about. Mt. Shasta towers over its neighboring peaks at 14,179 ft, making it especially striking since the valley floor is only 3,000 ft. There's a wilderness area covering much of the peak above 10,000 feet but since Bubba couldn't read the signs it wasn't a problem. The road dead-ends at the old ski area, empty now except for the parking lot, a couple trail signs, and some hippie rock art.
Even though the autumn solstice is fast approaching, there's still plenty of time for adventures before the snow flies. We've had only two traces of measurable precipitation since June and there's nothing in the forecast anytime soon. Our goal is to fit at least one backpacking trip in this year, however short and sweet. I'll keep you posted.
