I’ve been hankering for the past few weeks to spend the night outside. I’ve had opportunities, but I begged off because the overnight lows are still in the mid-30s. I’d be okay sleeping in that; the idea of getting out from under a warm down quilt at 7 a.m. when it’s 36°F? Ugh.

I had Friday off, and I planned to head out to the Juniper Dunes Wilderness to possibly spend the night – despite the cold nighttime temperatures. I dawdled. I hemmed & hawed. I put it off, yet again. I was at risk of doing the same thing Saturday but I managed to get my pack loaded & head out the door at the crack of 1 p.m.

I really wish I’d gone on Friday! Saturday was a lovely day – mild temperatures with sunny skies and just a light breeze – so there were lots of folks already out there at the ORV area. The access to the wilderness area requires a ~1.5 mile walk through the ORV area. On weekends, there are lots of folks out there, and they set up camp anywhere that’s big enough for multiple vehicles & trailers. It took me a while to find a place to park where I wasn’t obstructing a trail or road and I wasn’t intruding on someone else’s camp. And the spot I chose was less than ideal.

Fortunately, the ORVs are loud enough that they’re not going to sneak up on an unsuspecting hiker. To get to the gate, I mostly walked on dunes that were covered in grass; they’re more stable that the trails, and it’s much easier to walk on. (Walking on soft sand is exhausting.) There were a few times I could tell an ORV was relatively near, but I couldn’t tell if they were about to crest a hill near where I was – putting me directly in their path with little warning for them – or if they were further away. It was a bit nerve-wracking.

Despite the noise generated by ORVs, it doesn’t take long for the sound of machines to fall away once you enter the wilderness. The dunes provide a gently rolling landscape, and even though the wilderness is downwind of the ORV area even its western side is quiet after a half-mile or so.

I first hiked into Juniper Dunes more that 20 years ago. At the time, there was no public access to the ORV area; access across private land was required (and it was constantly threatened by the landowner). At the time, it was a 3.5 mile hike across the ORV area to get to the gate. A couple of extra miles may not sound like much, but again, walking on sand requires much more effort than walking on a packed-dirt trail. Prior to the public road accessing the ORV area, the best option pedestrians & equestrians had was to enter from the north. That access also went through private land, but the government secured that right of way in exchange for an agreement that it was only available March-May, and no overnight parking was allowed. (The ranch in question is remote, and I can’t blame the owners for not wanting a bunch of strangers driving by their house & parking overnight.)

(Lawyer note: the fact that government entities created this landlocked parcel of publicly-owned land that was intended to be accessibly by the public is a curiosity. If a parcel is landlocked, there’s an assumed right of way or easement over an adjacent parcel to allow access to the landlocked parcel. The law doesn’t allow for one landowner to deny another landowner access to the landlocked parcel. But when the federal government creates a landlocked parcel without securing an easement, my guess is that the surrounding landowners get to put up a fight if the government tries to create an easement after the fact. (If this is true, I assume it’s because, well, the federal government should know better than to create a landlocked parcel without an easement to allow access.) If you’re wondering why or how this happened, all I can say is that the wilderness was created in 1984, and failing to do this one thing that should have been obvious is yet another thing I will blame on the Reagan administration. Feckin’ Reagan.)

Because there’s no groundwater available in the wilderness, visitors need to bring their own. It was a mild day, but I carried a couple of liters of water with me just in case. (I ran out of water during a hard hike almost 30 years ago, and I never want to experience that again. I almost always carry too much.) A trip into the Juniper Dunes is a true adventure because there are no established trails. For the most part, there are no trails, period – not even game trails. One just wanders as one wishes. The perimeter fence is 15 miles, and the 7100+ acres means a person can roam about freely. I tend to decide “I think I’ll hike to that tree over there” and just hike from spot to spot.

I’ve found a few nice campsites. Although the ground is soft, it can be difficult to find a good campsite. The vegetation here has adapted to this harsh environment – bloody hot in the summer, brutally cold in the winter, very little water, and so, so windy – but it isn’t adapted to surviving having a tent lying on it overnight. The best campsites have bare patches of sand on which one may make their camp, and ideally it’ll be in the lee of a dune or a big tree. (I once camped here on a very windy night. I used my ice axe as a tent stake to hold one corner of the windward side of the tent, and the other corner was held down by a full liter bottle of water. And that campsite was fairly protected from the wind!)

During this hike, I found a lovely spot for a break and I think it’d make a fine campsite. In my pack, I had a Thermarest foam pad, my 25°F quilt, and my down hoody. I got out the pad, folded it half, and used my hoody as a pillow. With the relatively soft ground beneath me, it felt like I could sleep there very comfortably. It occurred to me that I really could have opted to spend the night in that spot: I might have been a bit chilly, perhaps, but between the quilt & the hoody I would have been able to sleep. I had a head bugnet. I loathe the idea of cowboy camping — a small rodent walked across my face when I was camped at Trap Pass and I never want to experience that again — but being out there felt so good it was very tempting indeed.

As preparation for my hike through Oregon this summer, I want to try out some things on shorter trips. The sleeping pad is part of it. I still haven’t decided if I’m going to use my hammock or if I will sleep on the ground. I really would rather use the hammock for a variety of reasons, but Oregon is an unknown. (I plan to check with the individual ranger districts in Central & Southern Oregon to get their input. If there are no trees, I’ll have no choice but to sleep on the ground.) The Thermarest pad is just 13 ounces — my Zenbivy light mattress is twice that — and it cannot puncture. If I can sleep on it and actually sleep, I’ll use it instead of the mattress. All the more reason I was tempted to camp in this spot. But alas, I needed to be at the 8 a.m. service Sunday morning. And so I headed back to the gate.

https://www.relive.com/view/vxOQ5o5W7MO

This hike was a balm to my soul. It wore me out, but it was just what I needed.