Aunt Jani and the Perfectly Wonderful Oregon Day

Aunt Jani supplies the real toys!

I'm a big fan of adventures small and large. Large ones don't seem to happen very often any more, but even the small ones can feel pretty darn good. This is especially true when they unfold with very little effort and everything comes together serendipitously.

We got to see Jani and Don briefly for a late Christmas celebration while we were staying at my parent's house. However, a brief visit with Jani, really, is not sufficient. After trying to fiddle around with her schedule and our own travel schedule we couldn't really figure out how to see them again. She's a pretty busy person with a lot of horses and dogs and people to take care of. It's pretty hard to nail her down. It's not that she's unsocial, for she'll drop on you like a Jagular if she has the time, and tell you great stories through the night. I just think those times are rare.

Then, the night before leaving, we got a call from her with a rather questionable plan of driving up in the mountains near Wimer (north of Rogue River, the town). Somewhere up in the hills we'd find a 4-wheeler parked behind a Forest Service gate and we could drive it up the mountain to find her. This was about 3 hours away from our starting point. There wouldn't be any cell phone service, so we decided to meet about 2:00 and call it good. I had been near there a couple of years ago, so I decided not to write down any directions. I kind of like to navigate by feel - a real charming habit, I'm sure.

None of this seemed too terribly difficult, but the main concern here was the dreaded timing of The Nap. You see, 2:00 is that magical napping hour. Without the nap, let's just say things are less fun than they should be. We  decided to keep our expectations rather low, figuring the highlights of the trip might be the mochas from Dutch Bros. and the pretty drive along the Smith River. But somewhere around 12:30 something magical happened. Anticipating an upcoming tunnel and the excitement it would bring to a 2 year old, I looked back and saw him already fast asleep. And so he slept. And slept. We cruised through a bunch of southern Oregon towns in our sleeping machine and headed up into the hills. We found the right dirt road heading up to Forest Service (or BLM?) land. The 10 or so horse trailers and 4-wheeler assured us we had found the right spot. Sleepy Guy opened his eyes on the very last pot hole of the drive.

The three of us hopped on the 4-wheeler and followed the horse poop trail up the mountain to look for our pot of honey. As we climbed, the Siskiyou Mountains came into view more and more and then pointy Mt. McLoughlin, with just a little bit of snow on it. The sun was shining, I'm sure birds were singing, and if we could have seen them, the planets were certainly aligned, and fairies were dancing around in mossy glades nearby. Around another corner near the top of our mountain, we hit our jackpot. Jani, Don, a whole crowd of cowboys and horse-women, horses, dogs, a campfire, hot dogs (veggie dogs just for us!), Christmas fudge, and beer. And while I'm certain Rowan was in awe of real cowboys, we couldn't actually pull him away from the 4-wheeler for at least a half hour. It took a lunch of fudge and chips to do that.

This was the annual New Year's Day ride for Jani, Don, and a bunch of their friends. We spent the afternoon soaking up the unusually warm January day with them and a bunch of their critters. Someone had brought an extra horse, so we threw Brian up on him for the ride down. Jani took the 4-wheeler while Rowan, my giant belly, and I climbed up on Mina, one of her former wild BLM mustangs. Sweet Mina carried us for an hour back down the mountain while Rowan spent his time commenting on the various colors and texture of fresh horse poop.

We then spent the evening playing back at the ranch, which really means chasing around sheep and ducks and playing with all the other horses in the barn. We basically miss Oregon every single day, but this was one of those days where it drove those thoughts to the core. We are keeping our fingers crossed that the next move is going to bring us a little closer to Jani, Don, and pretty much all of our family. Because really, a kid should be able to stomp around in horse poop whenever he/she wants.

All set with his truck, horse trailer, 4-wheeler, and kelpie.