Tour Oregon Postcard 7: Deliverence Have you seen Deliverance? We had no idea there was such a thing as Mountain People. Our road trip mapping software kept steering us clear of the narrow mountain roads I wanted to traverse. I should have received the sign. Our journeys took us from Diamond Lake, where we last reported, north along the Cascade Lakes Highway, where we wrapped around Mt. Bachelor and skipped through Bend. Then we continued north, to Camp Sherman, near the headwaters of the Metolios River - a mountain spring that spews forth 40,000 gallons of 48-degree mountain spring water from underneath a patch of moss. At one point, you could see a half-dozen peaks in the Cascade Mountains lined up as if a photographic wall mural. In Camp Sherman, we stayed at the Metolios River Lodges, in their cabin called Dragonfly. It sat on the edge of the river, literally, with the Metolios wrapping around the corner of the cabin. The deck off the back hung over the bank of the river, and the bed was no more than five feet from river's edge. The next morning, we were up and on the road early. We had an early lunch in Detroit, Oregon, on the Detroit Lake, then headed north on a mountain road running through the Willamette National Forest. From the WNF, we moved into the Mt. Hood National Forest, where we met up with the Clackamas River, following it downstream to Estacada, where Mom and Dad live at Llama Rama Vista, a llama ranch overlooking Mt. Hood. Have you seen Deliverance? Sure we saw some amazingly beautiful country. But we traveled one-lane mountain roads, gravel roads wedged into mountains on cliffs, and roads signed with "Commercial Traffic Monitors C.B. Channel 13." We were in the middle of nowhere, with nowhere to go. We saw signs 40 miles from Estacada that said, "Estacada is the nearest telephone service, nearest medical help available." Comforting to know, if you needed LifeFlight, you couldn't even contact LifeFlight. We'd drive for 20 minutes before encountering another vehicle. Campsites we'd pull into would be deserted, the only evidence that someone had visited recently - fresh toilet paper in the outhouses. My favorite sign was on a gravel road, about ten miles from the highway less traveled. It warned, of all things, "Congestion." Not far from Mt. Hood, we stumbled across Baggby Hot Springs. After not seeing a another person for hours, we encountered a gaggle of oriental men, with towels wrapped around their waists, having just come from the woods. We decided to take the mile-and-quarter hike into the woods, just to check it out, and what we saw was astonishing: at least forty people running around half-naked. Children with hair halfway down their backs. Men with facial hair that had not be trimmed, in like forever. A man with a naked women tattooed on his arm asked if this was our first time at the springs. He explained the water comes out of the mountain at 148 degrees, and you add cold water to your tub (A carved-out tree trunk) to cool it to a temperature you like. And, he advised strongly that we don't come after dark: "There are all kinds of people running around naked doing whatever." He asked if we were getting in. "Oh, no," we said. "We didn't come prepared." In more ways than one. Have you seen Deliverance? One night, we finished the evening at the Eagle Creek Inn, or the E.C.I., as the locals refer to the drinking establishment. It's the type of place adorned by NASCAR car hoods. When we walked in, everything stopped for a moment. You could hear the silk flowers set on the tables move. We ponied up to the bar, and ordered a drink, which was enough to take the E.C.I. off pause. "You're not from around here," the gentleman next to us said. He had his hair rolled up into four buns. "You don't have that inbred look." Late on Saturday, we pulled into one campsite looking for a rest stop, and came across a troop of men, dressed down in their camouflage, complete with face paint, holding bows and arrows. These are Mountain Men we have never seen before, and certainly, they had never seen the urban gay male before. I didn't dare shoot a picture, lest they shoot back. Their stares pierced us like arrows, conjuring up that feeling in the pit of your stomach that says, "Run like hell." After all, we were not too far from the part of the country where locals burned the house of two lesbians, just because they were lesbians. The only other time I've experienced that feeling was when I unknowingly walked into a battle between rival gangs on the streets of Chicago. We are now back home in Atlanta, safe and sound. I hear the freeway in the distance. The neighbor's dog is barking. A motorcycle revs in the distance. And there is a yelling match in the homeless camp on roof of the Cingular building just three lots away. We have received deliverance. 9/06/02 Postcards Continue on to the next postcard. Tour Oregon 2: All About the Pleasure Tour Oregon 3: Slowing Down Tour Oregon 4: Weasku Inn Tour Oregon 5: Wandering Prospect with Jack London Tour Oregon 6: The Levels of Rustic Tour Oregon 7: Deliverence Photos Oregon