Slaughter Blog

I don’t know what to tell all of you Slaughterers. I was so looking forward to the recent scouting trip to our new campground, with Jeff, Juliana, and Steve.  Fernview Group Camp had so much promise. First of all, it’s on a river, the South Santiam, which is cold, but not colder than the wild, cold, Klickitat. The S. Santiam is beautiful, with small streams cascading into it it over picturesque boulders, shallow, bathtub sized hollows to sit in, and clear, clean pools, deep and calm enough to swim in, right by our camp! It should be noted, access is down a steep climb, and rocks can be slippy (water shoes with some sort of traction recommended). There are sunny spots on smooth, flat stone, to basque in the sun, surrounded by the flow of water, and loads of trees provide ample shade for cooling off if the river is too cold for you. Unfortunately, the trees aren’t the only thing shady about Fernview Group Camp.Sunday’s scouting trip started according to plan. Juliana and Steve showed up just before 10am, a few minutes later, Jeff rolled up, coffee in hand, with a Morning Bun for me. Yum! We piled in to the sparkly-blue Toyota Venza, Juliana took the wheel, and we headed south on Interstate 5. Just under an hour later, we took exit 233 and headed East on HWY 20, on down to Lebanon. We realized just a few more minutes on I5 would have brought us to exit 228 and HWY 34 (aka Corvallis-Lebanon hwy 210), which is more of a strait shot through to Lebanon, therefore shaving off a small chunk of travel time. Lebanon’s got stuff, gas, food (although less Lebanese food than one might expect), but we were headed down HWY 20 to Sweet Home, Oregon.

Sweet Home, Oregon is about 1 hr 35 – 45 minutes SE of Portland. It’s one of the places I lived as a small child, back when dad was still living with us. It’s where my father was an editor for the local paper, before being fired for drawing a peace symbol on the cover of the paper just before handing it in to the printer in Albany. It’s where my dad and some of his buddies went on to create The Stoneygonian, back in 1971. There was only one addition made. It’s where we had a fox named Howard. It’s where my mom taught ballet and had a ghost follow her home from a party one night. But those are other stories.

Sweet Home has many markets, including a Safeway, a Dutch Brothers, an A&W with drive up stations! It’s got an antique shop, a roadside stop with floatation devices, we even saw a sign for a mall. We stopped at the far east end of Sweet Home for lunch, at The Point. It faces Foster Lake. It’s got that small town version of a breakfast and pie place feeling, with a solid American food menu (waffles, steak, fish and chips, chicken fried steak) all at Downtown Portland prices. They also have outdoor seating and a giant fish trapped in a tank only slightly larger than itself. Trapped fishy and high prices aside, it was good food, and service was friendly. This is where seniors in Sweet Home go for dinner on prom night. Einstein and one of the guys from ZZ Top were eating there, but not together. Right next door to The Point was a promising joint to look for trouble in, called The Woods Road House. Looking at their menu online, prices look cheap, food looks like standard issue fare. I think they used the same font as The Pub and Grub in Pacific City. Their slogan is “We ain’t fancy, but we’re good.” They say that, but I saw both Shirley Temples and Roy Rogers on the drinks page. If that ain’t fancy, I don’t know what is.

So now, our bellies were full, we were back on Hwy 20, in good moods, on a beautiful day, eagerly headed east, about 20 twisty, country miles out to mile marker 51, (area 51?) across the little bridge on your right, and an immediate left, into the Fernview Group Camp. OH! The beauty! OH! The dappled sunlight! OH! The sound of rushing water! OH! The 11 camp sites with each their own picnic table and firepit, nicely separated from each other by just enough trees and wild shrubbery to feel private, yet neighborly at the same time. OH! The vault toilet! We piled out of the sparkly-blue Venza, giddy with enthusiasm, wide eyed and innocent. We walked down the road, and around the loop, sussing out each site, some better for trailers than others, some more remote than others. We chose a suitable site for movie viewing, measured the distance between here and there. Where will the generator go, where the projector? We spoke with Butch and Bubba*, the two friendly enough guys from the county, who will come collect the trash each day, and were assured that aside from them, the combination locked gate will keep strangers at bay. Camp site scouting done, we took turns in the terlet, and headed toward the stairs, which led down to the steep path, which led to the river.

That’s where it happened. That’s where our sunny, carefree day of exploration came to a grinding halt.

It started with a rock. We just assumed it was knocked loose as we climbed down the hill, eventually tumbling down after us.

But then there was another one. It nearly hit Jeff in the head. Next came an empty bottle, Old Milwaukee, which broke at Steve’s feet, cutting his pinky toe just a little. As a tiny red drop of blood began to swell on Steve’s toe, out of the trees they came.

Two of the nastiest looking, red neck a-holes you could possibly imagine. Things got pretty shitty from there on out. Juliana got a picture of the two fuckers. Take a look at their faces. If you see them on the river, or on a trail, head back to camp. Realistically, I doubt we’ll see them again. We showed the photo to the local sheriff. He didn’t recognize them, and he says he’s pretty familiar with the locals.

In the end, we’re still excited about Camp Slaughter 10 at Fernview Group Camp. We’re looking forward to seeing you all there in mid August!