Oh-my-Opal Creek

Last weekend, Chad and I dropped off Tate at our dear friends' house and drove a few hours into the vast wilderness of central Oregon. Past paved roads, past cell phone reception, past wireless connections, past the grid that the rest of the world operates on. We tried a hand at living in the simplest way that humans can.


Jawbone Flats at Opal Creek is an old mining town that was in operation about a century ago. Since then, an organization has taken over its land and buildings and it now operates as a lodge and educational center. Jawbone Flats consists of about ten log cabins that huddle together amidst towering mountains and old growth forests, and uses the hydro power of its streams to generate just enough electricity to allow you to find a match to light your wood burning stove with at night. That's about it. Our modest little cabin stood sturdy and proud above Battle Axe Creek, with twigs and branches used as curtain rods over the windows. It was drafty, housed mice (notice the plural), lacked bedding and "could use a little updating" in Chad's estimate -- yet it was one of the most endearing places I have ever had the privilege to rest my head at. 

There is so much richness in simplicity. We had 2 plates, 2 bowls, 2 cups. This means that when you dirty your dish, you wash it, and it's immediately ready for its next use. And there is no dishwasher to load and unload. Our refrigerator was of the freshmen-dorm-room variety, and could certainly not house an entire load of bread. Yet, this meant that we didn't store more than we needed. We also brought exactly enough food to last us 3 days, which meant that we rationed our portions carefully and savored it. We had to share our limited electricity with others. This meant that we barely, if ever, used it out of consideration for others. This also meant that when the sun retired, we did as well. We didn't have central heat or television. So instead, we sat by the fire and it became our heat and we became our own entertainment. (I was reading Wendell Berry so you know I was REALLY hippie-ing out.) There was calm, there was silence, there was solitude, there was peace. 

There were mountain lions. 

We did not know this until AFTER our 13 mile hike up to the top of Mount Whetstone, which we clambered up for the sole purpose of getting a teeny morsel of cellular reception that would allow me to check in on Tate and Chad to check his voicemail. (We're new at this self-reliant game, so give us a break.) Our technology-inspired trek was probably a joke played on us by the Opal Creek staff boys that wanted to give the city slickers a way to check their cell phones in the mountains. "Just go on up to Whetstone," they slyly advised. When we stumbled back into camp at 5pm, they welcomed us back with warm congratulations, looks of surprise, and tales of other recent hikers that had been "stalked" by cougars for days. "But you should consider yourself real lucky to get attacked by a cougar these days...It's RARE!" one of them beamed. I'm not sure that "lucky" is how I'd be feeling if a cougar sank his teeth into my neck, but I guess in that situation it would pay to be positive. 


But we made it out alive, replenished, necks intact, and with a new appreciation of how much is truly needed to have a happy life (not much) and how so much of the extra just gets in the way.