- 0 1 0 1 0 - Nevermind the Burning Man, Here's the... ALVORD! Posted - 9/6/03 4:19 AM PST - 0 1 0 1 0 - You missed the Burning Man Festival again this year, didn't you? Maybe the drive was too daunting or you didn't have time to put together that "Nude Donald Rumsfeld Surrounded by Mousetraps" diorama. The organizers always schedule the event for Labor Day. Who has time on a holiday weekend for that sort of thing? Well...besides the 30,000+ attendees that show up every year? So you're sitting there in your cubicle, dreaming of wind-soaked playas, crazed artists and giant flaming effigies. Well cheer up, because you don't have to wait another year for a few days of desert weirdness. If you're living in Oregon, the Alvord is right next door and open for business year round. What is the Alvord, you ask? Well, it's kind of like Disneyland and Burning Man at the same time but even better. There's plenty of dead animals to play with and you don't have to buy a $220 ticket at the front gate because, well, there isn't one. Located in the heart of the Malheur Wildlife Refuge and the base of the Steens mountain range, the Alvord desert is technically a playa, much like the infamous one in Nevada. During the spring, the desert floods with melting snow pack and becomes a muddy lake bed. But don't let this dissuade you from spring break jaunt. The Alvord is surrounded by a wonderful world of delightful attractions. Come visit this Technicolor land of enchantment. Stroll along its sagebrush pastures and, under the influence of the right narcotics, watch your favorite storybook characters come to life. Eaves drop on conversations between howling coyotes. Bask in the cool waters of Pike Creek. Enjoy a hamburger and milkshake breakfast at the Field's Cafe. Daydream among the century old pornography in Whorehouse Meadow. Explore miles of trails and enter the depths of the forbidden mine, if you dare. The possibilities are limitless as your imagination. Come along, won't you, on an internet romp through this world of wonder. - 0 1 0 1 0 - Our fist stop is Fields, Oregon, which serves as a Main Street for this arid fantasyland. Fields, located a few miles from the Alvord, was established in 1881 by, surprisingly enough, Charles Fields. The town consists of a small store, cafe, gas station, school post office and a few houses. A small cemetery sits outside town limits. The nearest place with a working gas station is Burns, well over a 100 miles away, making Fields both a village and an oasis. It only took over a century, but the town's population finally entered the double figure in the late '90s. Fields is now home to 14 year-round residents. At one time, there may have been more dogs in town than humans. Darrel and Charlotte Northrop currently operate all of the businesses. Their many dogs can often be seen greeting visitors and napping under the only fire truck for hundreds of square miles. The Fields Cafe opens early and is the perfect spot for an 8 AM bacon-double cheeseburger. Adjacent to the grocery store, the cafe has a '50s style counter and two tables. It's "world famous" milkshakes are thick and are served in an old-style blender vessel. Walking into the grocery store is like stepping in a portal into the past. It still boasts hardwood and ancient beer cooler with a pull-tab lock. Photographs of area hunters beside trophies line many of the walls. Near the cash register is a decorative roll of John Wayne Toilet Paper with the slogan "Just like the Duke, it's rough, tough and doesn't take shit off of nobody." The store's antiquated features contrast sharply with bottles of Aquafina and neon boxes of Froot by the Foot. The store also has a liquor license and has a surprisingly large selection for a rural locale. Fifths of Old Crow whiskey sit next to shiny bottles of Bacardi. Is he a traveling troubadour or a singing cowboy? Both? We report, you decide. Fields serves as pit stop for a weird crowd of tourists, ranchers and traveling troubadours. It's not uncommon to see a Lexus SUV filling up next to a '76 Chevy pickup with a gun rack. The town's small motel can also draw an unusual crowd. Like a scene out of a Woody Guthrie song, singing cowboys can be seen lingering on the porch, chewing tobacco beside a slumbering labradors. Fields is like a time warp, combining the present with random artifacts of the American West. - 0 1 0 1 0 - Our next stop is the Steens Mountain, which overlooks the Alvord like a gigantic, rocky, slug god. Littered with slew of gravel roads and hiking trails, it's a popular destination for high altitude runners. Lone enthusiast can often be seen jogging along the range's many meadows, seemingly a million miles from the nearest parking lot. The range has become so popular that Nike has named its Air Zoom Steens running shoes after the mountain. Most visitors approach from Frenchglen, a small community that lies 51 miles north of Fields. The Steens Mountain road, a 26-mile loop, runs along jagged cliffs and many of the mountain's u-shaped gorges, eventually leading to two viewpoints at an elevation of 9733 feet. One is located next to a trail that leads to a series of solar powered antennas and cell phone towers. It's a perfect spot for a power trip. You can squish entire towns with your thumb and forefinger. Cattle ranches can be wiped out with a single stone. Don't toss anything at the towers though. That could get you arrested. - 0 1 0 1 0 - The mountain is home several oddly named locales, the most notorious being Whorehouse Meadow which is our next stop. In the 1920s, sheepherders belonging to a small Spanish tribe called the Basques flooded the canyons surrounding the Steens. The tribe is well noted for its unique language which is spoken nowhere else in modern Europe. Soon after the Basques arrived, a group of female entrepreneurs set up shop in a remote meadow on the mountain. A blank sign at the crest of the Steens Mountain. For almost two decades, lonely sheepherders headed for the meadow after work. Evidentially, they were big fans of the services provided and carved depictions of their shenanigans in the trees surrounding Whorehouse. These boobies, pee-pees, bum-bums and ho-has have survived the test of time and can still be found today. Unfortunately, the original carvings can be difficult to find. More recent visitors have taken to carving their names in trees, making the search for the "good stuff" an ordeal. Regardless, the perky phallus that greets visitors in the campground is hard to miss. According to legend, a small nearby lake is unofficially named Honeymoon Lake. Encounters at the meadow lead to many love affairs and couples, tiring of the endless ribaldry, set up homesteads at the more family friendly lake across the way. Today, the water hole is frequented by roaming cattle and wildlife. It probably isn't the best place to raise a family. Every inch of the land surrounding the water is covered in cow feces. Unsurprisingly, the meadow's name itself has been a topic of debate among archaic facets of federal and Oregon state government. In the 1960s, the Bureau of Land Management officially changed the name to Naughty Girl Meadow, simultaneously delighting moralists and infuriating locals. A few years later, in 1971, the Oregon Geographic Names Board filed a complaint that was eventually addressed by federal arbiters. To much fanfare, the original name was restored in 1981. Can a penis be perky, even if it is just a wood carving? Or does that only apply to breasts? With such a notorious history, Whorehouse Meadow is probably haunted. While an internet search didn't turn up any ghost stories, there's a good chance that spectral prostitutes are still in business on Steens Mountain. This begs the question: do they take Visa or Casper Card? Sorry. - 0 1 0 1 0 - A steep, jagged road leads from Steens towards Fields and to the Alvord itself. The path's many rocks make the trip slow and cruel, especially on your average sedan. But this cattle country and only a pickup will do. Back on level ground, you'll discover a highway leading back to Fields. The occasional cow barrier breaks up the asphalt. Consisting of two posts and a grate in the ground, it works as a sort of invisible fence. If a cow attempts to cross, its hooves be caught until a ranch hand rescues it. Past Fields is a long gravel road which leads along to desert and to Borax Lake. Hot springs near the lake contain huge amounts of borate. When the water flows out onto the Alvord it evaporates, leaving behind alkali. From 1892-1902 the Rose Valley Borax company employed Chinese immigrants to collect the substance and place it in large piles. From there, they would wind up in gigantic vats where they were boiled with water and acid. After cooling, this created crystallized borax which was sacked and shipped by a mule team to Winnemucca. A tree growing out of a boulder at the Pike Creek campground. The tanks are still standing, more or less. Years of rain and desert wind have toppled them, leaving behind a pair of rusted goliaths. They still sit in a meadow near the lake and visitors can climb around in them if the mood strikes. If off-road skateboarding ever takes off, this would be a perfect place for it. The lake itself is eerie. Due to its mineral content, the waters look pale, almost white. The area surrounding Borax is unearthly and quiet. Even the most incompetent bugs avoid the area like the plague. It isn't a place to go swimming but it would a great location for a student art film. - 0 1 0 1 0 - After a long day of climbing the Steens and chasing the sprits of dead hookers, you'll be in the mood for a good night's sleep. While Fields has a small motel, it doesn't offer the full Alvord experience. Grab a rifle and toss on a cowboy hat before heading to the Pike Creek campground for an evening of mumbling coyotes, sagebrush and star-filled vistas. It's located on the edge of the Alvord. Pike Creek is unofficial campground and essentially belongs to a local hunter's club. Spent shells are easy to find. It's usually well maintained during elk season but its lone outhouse spends most of the summer months backed-up. But who needs indoor facilities when there's an entire desert to drop trou in? The campground has plenty of convenient bushes to hide behind while you do your business. For a truly liberating experience head to the desert floor. From Pike Creek, it's about a ten minute drive to middle of the Alvord. It's one of the few remaining places on the planet where you can defecate in the great wide open without fear of anyone filming you and putting the pictures on the internet. It's an almost spiritual experience, like looking into the eyes of God. Try it. Maybe you’ll have an epiphany. The campsite is a great place to recreate the sing-along scene from "Three Amigos." Pike Creek looks like the queue line from a certain deadly Disneyland attraction. Giant red boulders and sagebrush fill the area. A rocky bluff overlooking the campground oddly resembles a slumbering Homer Simpson. Pike Creek is filled to the brim with naturally-occurring pop culture references. The campground sits alongside a small creek fueled by the Steens' snow pack. Tiny trout navigate its currents and its banks are the ideal spot to set a cooler. It's best to retreat to Pike Creek during the hottest part of the day. Entwined trees offer the only natural shade for miles. As afternoon turns to dusk, especially in the late summer, the creek's waters recede. It comes to a complete stop at dusk, almost as if it's been turned off by a faucet somewhere on the Steens. Other local wildlife call the area home and it's not uncommon to spot jackrabbits madly dashing through the sagebrush. Ground squirrels are also skittish. Pike Creek's salamander population is more friendly. The tiny lizards can be found lounging on the underside of many of the campsite's boulders. Occasionally, they creep out into the sunlight and seem undaunted by the prescience of humans. On a recent trip, cows at a nearby ranch began mooing every night at 7:30 sharp. Maybe it's the bovine cocktail hour. During the summer, the weather at the edge of the Alvord hovers in the 80s during the day. Abrupt thunderstorms aren't uncommon. A hot day can give way to low 60s and heavy rains by the dawn of the following one. It's surreal to wake up in the morning to find the arid campground covered in puddles. Witnessing an Alvord thunderstorm is like being hit with showers in the middle of the Sahara. - 0 1 0 1 0 - Near the campsite, a rocky trail leads up into one of Steens’ canyons. Once a mule trail for copper mines, it's devolved into a pathway for hikers. A forty-five minute trek will lead you to a mysterious shake underneath a bluff. Miles from civilization, it has absolutely no reason for existing. It seems like it was built recently but small dark interior contains scant clues. Wooden planks cover the floor and the door is unlocked. Is it a partially built outhouse? A hermit hut? A portal into another world? Lift the planks and discover for yourself. Maybe you'll be able to see through time. More likely, you'll discover (GASP!) fossilized Charmin Quilted. The entrance to the Scary Abandoned Mineshaft. Further along, you'll encounter a collapsed trail that leads to another about 30 feet overhead. If you're feeling adventurous and don't mind a brush with death, climb the rocks as they fall out from under your feet. If you're lucky, you'll make it to the top and a Scary Abandoned Mineshaft will be your reward. Believe it or not, the Scary Abandoned Mineshaft looks like a scary abandoned mineshaft. Inside, its passage leads around a corner and into the depths of the Steens. Who knows how far it goes or how deep it is. Grab a friend and head in. If you can make it further than then, congratulations, you're both brave and stupid. Mining in the Steens' canyons dried up in the late 1959, making the mines on this trail at least 50 years old. They're hardly being maintained, so venturing into them is probably more dangerous than base jumping into a pit of starving velociraptors. And you never know. They could be full of ghost hookers. - 0 1 0 1 0 - After a jaunt down the mine, you may finally be in the mood for a trip to the Alvord itself. It's hard to miss when you head from the Pike Creek campground. It's the gigantic desert across the street. While the playa is eight miles long, access roads can be hard to find. Separating the road from the Alvord is a patch of private land owned by area ranchers. The nearest one from Pike Creek is about a five minute drive away. During the winter months, the desert becomes a lakebed. Unlike your average lake, the Alvord turns into a gigantic mud bog by Christmas. The bog loves to eat shoes and spends most of the off-season covered in a thin layer of snow. During the summer, it dries out and morphs into a gigantic strip of cracked earth that's smooth enough to drive across. Planes can even land on the desert floor. This photograph is filled with metaphors and social criticism. Can I please have a grant now? In the middle, utter quiet envelopes your eardrums. There's literally nothing out here. No buzzing flies, no rustling leaves; pure silence. The Alvord is completely barren. The only sign of life is the occasional bug or jackrabbit carcass. This is the closest on Earth that you'll get to outer space. The playa is as clean and white as a surgeon's mask. On a windless afternoon, your heartbeats sound like thunderclaps. Landsailers flock to the area and congregate on the southern end of the desert. On busy weekends, a small city of RVs forms. Strangely enough, the landsailers don't cover much ground and tend to roll around in circles, leaving the rest of the Alvord untapped. Head out to middle and you'll have four eight square miles of nothingness to do what you please with. The mind boggles at the amount of freedom this space allows. Use various household items to create a 9 hole golf course. Just be sure to use neon balls. White ones will blend in with the desert floor. Max out your vehicle's speedometer and find out what 140 MPH feels like. Make your own burning man out of q-tips. Fill a firework with Taco Bell hot sauce and watch it quickly fall back to earth. Retell the story of Exodus with Miller beer bottles. Use a digital camera to make your Marlboro ad. Film a remake of "The Road Warrior." Grab a machine gun and see what happens when you fire it a propane tank. Detonate a cruise missile. Or just throw off your clothes and get rid of those pesky tan lines. Out here, you can exercise as many of your inalienable freedoms as possible, weather permitting. No one will care. The Alvord Desert is one the few places in the United States were you can be as free and weird and stupid as your imagination can bear. Just be sure to clean up after yourself. Whatever you leave behind is likely to stay out there forever. Leave only tire tracks. Take only camcorder footage of explosions. Getting back to the access road can be difficult. Fortunately, the locals have marked them splotches of black soil. - 0 1 0 1 0 - So you've filtered with ghosts and conquered mineshafts, it's time to relax. Head over to Alvord Hot Spring for a soothing dip as the sunsets over the Steens. The spring sits just off the road and looks like a tin ramshackle. A short trail will lead you down to a man-made pool. There are two areas here, one outdoors and one indoors for the shy. Oddly enough, both offer stools made out of the inside drums of washing machines. Each is painted in a different Day-Glo color. A long pipe brings in the "life-giving waters" from a nearby spring and it can be controlled by a large cork. Getting too hot? Just slide the cork into the pipe. Too cold? Take it out. It's fun, free and easy. - 0 1 0 1 0 - Harney County, the home of the Alvord and these other highlights, has a bleak history that deserves its own cinematic trilogy. While Basque sheepherders mingled with prostitutes on the mountain, cattle ranchers and settlers did battle on the valley floor. Much to the chagrin of area cowboys, hopeful setters moved in the 1890s to take a stab at dry farming, a process were crops are maintained with scant participation and condensation. Into the 1920s, both sides clashed over property lines and well rights. They fought in the courtroom and sometimes even with bullets. Over time, their efforts proved fruitless and small boom towns like Blitzen were vacated. A heavy drought during World War 1 chased many away, drying up farms like water from Borax Lake on the desert floor. Most attempts to conquer this mass of land has sputtered and failed. Years later, scant cattle ranches still populate some parts of Harney County. For the most part, Harney County is as untarnished as an Antarctic tundra. While the area does draw a few visitors, it takes a good deal of effort to get to. While the notorious playa in northern Nevada is even further away, the Alvord is hundreds of miles from the nearest interstate or major state. Most tourists from the Willamette Valley only venture as far as Bend. Harney County and the Alvord are often referred to as Oregon's Outback. There's no getting around it, the place is a wasteland that would feel like home for Mad Max. And this is why the few people that venture out this way love it so. Now you too know about the state's best kept secret. Kept it to yourself. - 0 1 0 1 0 - Well, you’ve made it all the way to end. Now you have a decision to make, Click the first link and watch a Quicktime clip about rockets and hot sauce. Or click the second one and delve deeper into the mysteries of the Alvord. HOT SAUCE ROCKETS! Click above to discover why salsa and fireworks were never meant for one another. Or click here to delve into the further mysteries of the Alvord. 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