What a wonderful weekend for camping on the Alvord Playa for the first time in over a year. It is the beginning of June and we have not been in Southeast Oregon's desert this late in the spring. We arrive in the late afternoon.
Normally, we camp in the sagebrush. This afternoon we stake our claim on the south end of the playa at the margin of the sagebrush. The dry mud is a bit softer than expected. I easily sink a few tent pegs into the dryish mud to keep the tent in place.
Arriving at the south end of the playa, June 4
The cool of the evening and the sun's long shadow play with us out on the playa. It is down-jacket weather by the time we get dinner rolling. The air is perfectly still — that desert stillness that feels less like calm than like waiting.
On my phone I review our previous ventures out from the playa into the surrounding wilderness on GaiaGPS. We decide to head south tomorrow through Little Sand Gap and try to cut across some unknown hills and create a new loop.
Awake in the middle of the night, the moon lights up the landscape, cool air on my skin. It is easy to walk around.
The Loop That Wasn't
We brought all the water we should need in the car, as there is none available to drink here. Amy fills two bottles, I fill my 2-liter water bladder for my backpack and a water bottle in the frame. On the initial cross-country south, the dry mud is not as dry as I expected. Underneath is a very soft layer and it takes quite a bit of work to reach our desert path.
The soft edge of the playa, sand in Little Sand Gap, and a leopard lizard guarding its burrow
We find the faint road and the going improves for a while, until we hit the sand in Little Sand Gap. There is quite a bit of hike-a-bike. Lizards and a desert hare dart around. We climb out of the basin. At the first barbed wire gate, we are already moving slower than expected. The sun is high and beating down.
At the second gate, we agree to keep going but quietly discuss a halfway turnaround point. We start consuming more water and gummies. At the third gate, with the temperature now above 30°C, we make the call: we are not completing the loop.
We turn around and enjoy a rugged, mostly downhill ride — but rationing water now. At the crest of the Alvord basin we stop for lunch on an outcropping of rocks, looking out over the playa.
The Scirocco
It is about 1:30 PM. A few dust devils are picking up on the southwest corner of the playa. They feel like something the desert had been holding in reserve all morning. We reach the sand again and begin hiking. I realize I have not put on sunscreen. My pale winter skin is starting to feel the burn. I've got my neck gaiter up over my face. True to the desert, the distance back to camp is further than it looks, and the going is slower than the pace we are used to in the city. Yes, we know all this and yet we forget.
The dust devils become something else — long rivers of blowing dust sweeping across the playa in luminous curtains. I am worried about our tent. Two years ago, while we were away from the playa, our tent disappeared in a windstorm, never to be found again. I am surprised I had forgotten that. I hope the tiny stakes hold tight until we get back. We lean into the headwind.
We finish our water. The last 3 km are over soft, dry mud with shallow pools of water around. There are two duffels in the tent. I am silently kicking myself for not putting more weight in it. Finally, past a dune, I see the tent — still where we left it. We are fortunate: the wind came from the southwest, and the car was parked in just the right place to act as a windbreak. The tent's geometry helped too, the wind pressing down rather than catching beneath.
It is a relief to have more water. We climb in, the tent already filled with sand and dust drifted over the sleeping bags. No bugs in this wind — I'll give the desert that. I am sweating inside, watching the curtains of dust race across the playa, occasionally engulfed by one. The scirocco, as the desert earns such a name, has no malice in it — only force, and a kind of indifferent grace. It is extraordinarily beautiful.
Film coming soon
Footage of the scirocco crossing the playa — to be added once edited.
Morning on the Playa
The wind calms during the night. The sunrise is golden, as it often is here.
Today is for cycling loops out on the playa — head in any direction, turn whenever you want. I tend to head upwind when possible so that the return is easy and quick. The same wind that threatened our shelter yesterday now moves us along like a gift.
Playa play — head any direction, turn whenever you want
Perhaps take your hands off the bike and let the wind blow you across the playa.