In real life, Oregon is where I started. As a mere lad of barely 21 I departed Duluth, MN. after my fourth year of college and drove in a little red Ford Fiesta, ALL the way to the edge of the continent to start guiding on the Rogue, Deschutes and a host of other Oregon whitewater rivers. I made it through that summer with many opportunities for personal growth and came back a wiser, more mature young man. Or at least a changed young man with many solo road miles and several months of living like a responsible adult (for the most part) in Berkeley, San Francisco, and Eugene, along with all those nights on those wonderful Oregon rivers.
Before I ramble too far away, the Owyhee is a river in a canyon cutting through a high desert plateau. A place way over on the southeast side of the state. I think. I never went there, but it is wilder and more remote than the rivers I ran along the coast. I was in the wet, the Owyhee is in a desert canyon surrounded by big dry empty.
It's all good. I remember a weekend off, driving out to the coast and encountering sand dunes. Big sand dunes and a wild unkempt coast that smelled a bit odd. For a midwest boy, cold humid salt air was a distinct change. I remember the twist and turns of driving through the mountains from Springfield - Eugene to Sisters and on to Bend.
Youth is a bit wasted on the young. At the time, I was living the dream and just doing it. I didn't realize it as anything special. Now half a lifetime later (or more) I still look back on that summer. What a set of memories. What an experience. It has informed parts of me as life continued, back to the midwest, marriage, kids, house, and job. There's a space in my head where I go to live those memories again and again. I'm glad I made my escape even if it was only for ten years before the midwest reeled me back in. It really was living the dream, only at the time I didn't know it.
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