The Wild, Wild Northwest

It was painfully early and the desert morning was freezing, but I was determined to take in the show.

Off in some scrub, I caught sight of one, then two, eventually a dozen of the performers: male sage grouse. The birds, resembling pale turkeys up to 2 1/2 feet long, spread their spiky tails and inflated their white ruffs in hopes of attracting a mate. Enormous yellow air sacs bulged from their chests. Like burlesque dancers, they showed off their bosoms and shook what looked like feather boas around their necks.

The peculiar sight was matched with the birds’ peculiar sound, a popping noise like a cork sliding out of a bottle, accompanied only by the wind and an occasional bit of bird song in the distance. No traffic, no airplanes, nothing else.

Unfortunately, the only female attracted to the courtship was me. Not a female grouse in sight. I stayed for an hour, but gradually the males lost interest, deflated their necks and breasts and started foraging for sagebrush leaves.

Many travelers to the state miss this production, falling prey to southeastern Oregon’s reputation as the middle of nowhere. But this nowhere includes the 185,000-acre Malheur refuge (about half the size of Los Angeles), not to mention the grand Steens Mountain and the Alvord Desert--all paradise for lovers of remote wilderness.

From late March to May, rising temperatures and huge, shallow lakes draw migrating waterfowl, shorebirds and the accompanying flocks of bird-watchers to the refuge. The grouse, sandhill cranes, burrowing owls and horned grebes are among about 320 species that stay year-round or stop here along the Pacific Flyway in spring or fall. About 130 species--trumpeter swans, great blue herons, black-necked stilts among them--nest through summer. As a lifelong bird-watcher, I try to visit once or twice each year.

Last April I wanted to explore other parts of the area, so I drove a 210-mile triangular loop around Steens Mountain, elevation 9,733 feet. The route started at the Malheur refuge, headed south to the town of Fields near the Nevada border, then northeast along the Alvord Desert past hot springs, and finally west back to the refuge. My whirlwind tour lasted only a day, but the sights proved to be worth two or three.

I started my road trip at home in Bend, in the center of Oregon, and drove about 150 miles to the north end of the Malheur refuge. I stayed overnight at the refuge’s field station, where scientists and students research ecology and bird-watchers like me make a temporary nest of their own.

The next day I awoke in time for a 6:30 a.m. solo drive south on Oregon Highway 205 along the refuge’s edge, then east for eight miles on a rutted dirt road that wound higher and higher into the sagebrush breaks. A pronghorn stopped to gaze at me on its flight up a hill. Surprised mule deer stared as I passed.

I thought I had missed the grouse’s courtship grounds, called a lek, when I passed a car going the other way. The driver, a British bird-watcher, obligingly pointed me to the spot.

After seeing the birds dance, I wondered: What made this patch of desert so appealing to the grouse? Why had they stayed at this lek so many years, possibly since a lake here dried up about 9,000 years ago? A local naturalist later said that leks often are flat, with sparse ground cover in the center (room for courtship) and abundant sagebrush on the perimeter (for nesting). Still, many questions about the birds’ nesting habits remain a mystery.

I hopped back in my car and headed south on Highway 205 a few miles to Frenchglen, population 10, named after early-1900s cattle baron Peter French. I stopped at an old-fashioned general store for bottled water, then continued south along the low western slope of Steens Mountain. The Donner and Blitzen River flows from the Steens, as locals call it, and feeds Malheur and Harney lakes to the north.

The Steens is a destination in itself: Spectacular canyons cut the mountain and provide shelter for wild elk; in the summer, the slopes yield a canvas of red paintbrush, penstemon, shooting star and other wildflowers. Visitors often see wild horses and bighorn sheep, and sometimes cougars.

I had to bypass the road to the peak. From October or November until June or July, snow closes Steens Mountain Loop Road, a rough, 60-mile route that ascends more than 4,000 feet to scenic lakes and gorges.

I proceeded south, the mountain to my left and ranches to my right. The road rose to cross the southern tip of the Steens foothills, the panorama dominated by passing clouds, rocky slopes and the jagged peaks of the Pueblo Mountains to the south.

By 11 a.m., I found myself famished in Fields, the southernmost point in my journey, about 95 miles south of my starting point.

To call Fields a town is an exaggeration. It had been a stagecoach stop on the route from Winnemucca, Nev., to Burns, Ore., around 1900. Today it consists of a post office, a general store with a cafe, a four-room motel, a schoolhouse and a series of trailers. Most residents live on remote ranches, but the town serves as a depot where they get mail, pick up supplies and exchange gossip. I sat down for a $1.25 fried-egg sandwich in the Fields Cafe, where two weather-beaten ranchers in their 60s shared the talk of the town.

One man asked the other: Did you hear about the cougar in Mrs. So-and-So’s woodpile?

“No,” his listener replied.

“Yeah. She went out to the woodpile in the morning and there it was, deader ‘n a doornail. Couldn’t tell how it died.”

“You think maybe someone put it there?”

“Maybe.”

Had the cat been alive, the story would have merited further discussion; but as it was, the talk turned to the price of hay. So I began to cast a curious glance around town. I would have concluded the place has not changed since its founding in 1881 if not for the store clerk chatting on a cell phone.

The ragged eastern face of the Steens poked against a bold blue sky as I drove northeast on Andrews-Alvord Desert Road (also called Fields-Denio Road), a well-graded but gravel path that extends for 65 miles.

I passed more ranches--some operational, some abandoned--by the near-ghost town of Andrews. At the turn of the century, Andrews’ saloons and hotels were a magnet for ranchers and sheepherders. Today an old, abandoned dance hall still stands, and a few residents linger in clapboard dwellings. The sole occupant in the hotel, however, is the wind that blows through the remains.

These days, the land is arid and livestock are scattered thinly. With the Alvord Desert to my right, white dust blew up in clouds even though spring runoff covered part of the sterile-looking playa. Dwarf lupine and larkspur were beginning to bloom, adding dabs of blue on the desert sand.

Friends had told me about a treasure along this road: a fabulous hot spring, on private land but open to the public.

The cafe had provided directions--crucial, because Alvord Hot Springs is certainly not conspicuous. No signs point the way. A slight widening of the route’s shoulder and a battered, corrugated-iron enclosure 200 yards off the road are the only clues.

It’s probably better that way, or despite its isolation (23 miles from Fields), the spring might get crowded. I saw a car parked there, so in accordance with wilderness etiquette, I waited about 20 minutes for the couple to leave before I took to the waters myself.

Here, at the geological seam where the Steens meets the plains, scalding water seeps out of the ground. Cooler stream water is piped in, and the mixture is routed to pools. I walked down a short path to the bathing area, about 10 feet by 16 feet. Two pools are lined with rough concrete, one enclosed in the iron structure.

I tried the enclosed pool, which was pleasantly warm. Bullet holes in the walls gave me pause, but I soon realized they were handy for spying people approaching from the road.

I moved to the open pool, where the view was more scenic and the water hotter. Nothing could compare to soaking in the mineral waters while gazing at snowcapped mountains and the vast yellow desert, not a soul in sight. The liquid note of the western meadowlark made fine company.

The air temperature was barely 50 degrees, with a stiff breeze blowing, but I felt no chill as I dried off and dressed. A gray and white shrike called plaintively from a utility wire while I briefly walked around to cool off.

I continued down the road and rejoined paved Highway 78, which winds over dry hills, past lava beds and back toward the wildlife refuge.

As the sun set, eagles and hawks--ferruginous, red-tailed and Swainson’s--surveyed their territory from fence posts. Broad Malheur Lake glinted into the distance. The scene was almost primeval. I drove into the refuge, past headquarters and into the field station, just in time for dinner.

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GUIDEBOOK

Deserted Eastern Oregon

Getting there: Alaska and United airlines offer connecting service from LAX to Eugene, Ore. Round-trip fares start at $290. Some of this route is best reached with a four-wheel-drive vehicle, which should be reserved at the airport. From Eugene, drive east on Oregon Highway 126, then east on Interstate 20 to Burns, then south on Oregon Highway 205 to Malheur National Wildlife Refuge (about 280 miles).

Getting around: My 210-mile loop started at the reserve, headed south on Highway 205 to Fields, then northeast on Andrews-Alvord Desert Road (a gravel route also called Fields-Denio Road), then west for 30 miles on Oregon Highway 78. In Princeton, look for signs to the wildlife refuge; make a sharp left, then a right on dirt roads. Gas up when you can; service stations are few.

Where to stay: I stayed at Malheur National Wildlife Refuge Field Station on Princeton Narrows Road, telephone/fax (541) 493-2629. Dorm rooms (two or three beds per room) are $17 per person; trailers are $30. The station is usually open April to October, depending on weather. The well-regarded Frenchglen Hotel, on Highway 205 in Frenchglen, tel. (541) 493-2825, reopens for the season in mid-March. Eight cozy double rooms range from $58 to $62. Hotel Diamond, six miles east of the refuge on Diamond Grain Camp Road, tel. (541) 493- 1898, is open March 15 to Nov. 15, with rates from $55 for a double bed with shared bath to $90 for a queen bed with private bath. Sage Country Inn in Burns, tel. (541) 573- 7243, reopens in mid-March; $65 to $80 per night.

Where to eat: Refuge field station serves meals similar to a college dorm’s; breakfast runs $7, dinner $8. Frenchglen Hotel’s hearty meals (honey-glazed pork chops, pot roast with garlic potatoes) are renowned locally; dinner reservations required (number listed above). I snacked at Fields Cafe, off Highway 205 in Fields, tel. (541) 495-2275.

For more information: Malheur National Wildlife Refuge (open dawn to dusk daily; free admission), tel. (541) 493-2612, Internet https://www.r1.fws.gov/malheur. Harney County Chamber of Commerce, 76 E. Washington St., Burns, OR 97720, tel. (541) 573-2636, Internet https://www.harneycounty.com.