ODT Part 7: Fields to Denio
Day 27 | October 7th, 2023
The sunshine and warm, clear weather welcomed us to the Pueblo Mountains.
Our journey led us down a dirt road to Roux Springs, where we were met with breathtaking views of Alvord Peak. The day was mostly cross-country, following a network of rock cairns. The terrain was quite rugged and involved a significant amount of climbing and descending through rocky sage and bunchgrass-covered slopes.
Although Zebra had painted this section as daunting, the three of us thoroughly enjoyed it. We navigated together, exchanging ideas on how to tackle each section and assisting one another in finding the optimal route. It felt like a breeze compared to our experience in the Steens. We skillfully maneuvered around peaks, negotiated steep slopes, and threaded through the passes between high points.
We traveled a total of 14 miles that day, yet the challenging terrain left us with a profound sense of achievement, as if we had conquered a much greater distance. Looking back, we all agreed that our day following ridges in the Pueblos was one of the finest of the trail.
Day 28 | October 8th, 2023
We were about 10 miles away from Denio, facing another day of steep and challenging terrain. The path ahead featured a continuous sequence of ascents and descents across rugged, scenic landscapes. We followed cow-trodden paths as best we could for quicker travel.
Our journey was guided by cairns from the old desert trail, turning our hike into a fun, albeit strenuous, scavenger hunt. I was thankful for my monocular, which proved invaluable in spotting these small beacons of direction amidst the vast wilderness. Despite the enjoyment of tracking our path this way, it was undeniably the toughest 10 miles into town we had faced yet.
The descent into Denio was a bushwhack down a canyon that led us directly to the road. The wildness of the terrain left its mark on us - my legs and armpits bore witness to the untamed nature of our journey, with scratches and scrapes criss-crossing my skin, which by this point was boasting more hair than I ever thought possible.
Our arrival at the Diamond Inn was a moment of pure relief and celebration. We eagerly downed sodas and beer, a simple pleasure that felt like the height of luxury after the day's exertions. The bar was dark and hot inside. A few locals came and went; everyone knows everyone in this small town.Our anticipation grew as we waited for Penny, the postmaster, who had generously offered to bring our much-needed resupply boxes. When she arrived, she inquired about our plan and offered to drive us two miles down the road to Denio Junction, where the only hotel in the area was located. Despite our efforts to call the hotel in advance from the bar, we were unable to get through, even with the bartender's help. We decided to try our luck in person.
Penny pulled up to the Denio Junction Hotel, and we decided that only one of us should go inside. Before stepping out of the car, I noticed a sign on the hotel that read, "Chukar Headquarters - Denio Junction." Intrigued, we asked Penny about it, thinking it could be another great trail name for Cosmo. She explained that a Chukar is a type of game bird belonging to the pheasant family, known for its distinctive loud call that sounds like "Chuck..Chuck…CHUKAR." This call soon became the Garlic Brothers' distinct call as well, marking a transition from the sweet serenade of the meadowlark to the more robust and excited "CHUKAR!" In this region, Chukars are popular for hunting.
I went in to inquire about a room, but the few rooms at the hotel were fully booked with no availability. The staff was friendly and genuinely seemed like they wanted to help. I felt disappointed. After a challenging journey, I was really looking forward to a night in a comfortable bed and a warm shower.
Penny, the owner of the RV park opposite the hotel, kindly allowed us to pitch our tents on her property.
Once we were settled, we ventured over to the hotel bar, where we mingled with Denio's residents and staff for several hours. Over drinks, Amanda, the bartender, revealed that Denio's year-round population was a mere 17, highlighting the close-knit nature of this small community. Their warm welcome made us feel instantly a part of their extended family.
We spent much of the night chatting with Larry, a friendly regular at the bar. By the end of the night, he kindly offered us the option to camp on his lawn or even stay inside his living room if we needed shelter from yet another approaching storm. We took his phone number and wrote down his address just in case we needed it, then headed back to our set-up at Penny’s.
