Olallie by Golly!

All that talk about fishing on Saturday made me think of our trips to another favorite spot in Oregon, Olallie (oh-la-lee) Lake. My parents took us there when we were very little. The lake was way up on top of a mountain near Mt. Jefferson, and I remember it always seemed to take us forever to get there. The last several miles up the mountain were on gravel roads so it was a long and slow drive. There were cute little rustic cabins dotted here and there to stay in, or you could camp in a tent. And when I say rustic, I mean rustic! No running water, no electricity, just old fashioned hurricane lamps or lanterns for light, screens on the windows (no glass), screen doors, cots to sleep on and propane stoves to cook on (if you were lucky). No phone service, no showers, no flushing toilets. . . nothing! You had to get your water from the lake in buckets. I've heard the resort has been updated in recent years, but not by much.

The lake was pretty big and full of trout and no motorboats were allowed, only rowboats, canoes and paddleboats, which you could rent from the general store. I can remember being very young one trip and my sister and I found some blueberry bushes close to our cabin, so Mom gave us a bowl and we picked blueberries for her to make pancakes for breakfast. There were tons of chipmunks everywhere and they'd come up and eat potato chips right out of your hand.

One year our grandparents came from Oklahoma for a visit and we took them to the lake for vacation. I don't recall much from that vacation because we were so small, but two memories will always stick with me. One thing I remember is my Prampa catching about a kazillion fish! Seems like every time he threw his line in the water, he caught a rainbow trout. To this day, he says it was one of his favorite fishing trips ever. The second memory I have is a vivid one, only because it was extremely painful! Mom and Grandma decided us girls should all go on a walk around the lake, so my sister and I took up our big sticks to "clear the way through the jungle" and we headed out. Tiff and I hacked away at bushes and tall grass, small trees; anything in the path we could chop down with our mighty sticks. We came up to an old log that crossed the path and gave it a good wallop with our sticks and the most awful thing happened! A huge swarm of bees came flying out of that old stump and started stinging us everywhere! Poor Grandma (who never wore pants, only dresses) had bees flying up her dress stinging her legs. All four of us girls were screaming and running and swatting at bees all the way back to the cabin. Tiff was covered in stings, as she got the worse of it. Prampa had stayed back at the cabin and when we all got back there crying and covered in bee stings, Grandma grabbed a pie tin and told him, "Marvin! Get to chewing some tabacky and spit it in this here pan right now!" Prampa was overjoyed to be given permission to chew his forbidden tabacky! He chewed and chewed and spit and spit and Grandma dipped a cloth into the tobacco juice and spread it all over our bee stings. I'll never forget that trip, for sure!

I only remember going there one other time, later in life when I was in my early 20's. My Daddy and stepmother, one of my stepsisters and her husband and baby, were all there ahead of us. Sid and I had to wait and drive up after we got off work, so by the time we headed out, it was already dark. The further you got up that mountain, the darker it got, until you could hardly see your hand in front of your face. It was a scary drive, for sure. The walk from the parking area to the cabin was the longest I've ever taken. Every step you took was a step of faith because we had nothing to light our way at all. When we finally made it to the cabin, everyone was pretty much settled down for the night. My stepsister and her husband were sleeping on the floor in the front of the cabin, right inside the screen door. Daddy and his wife were sleeping on cots toward the back of the cabin and had saved a cot across from them for Sid and I. We got situated as best we could and fell into the cot. I remember just laying there in the pitch black listening to the frogs and crickets chirping and looking out the nearest screened window for any glimpse of light; a star, the moon, anything! The cots were the worse and we kept tossing and turning trying to get comfortable.

It seemed like forever had passed and soon everything was silent. Even the crickets had stopped chirping. All of a sudden I heard the most awful, tormented, long drawn-out wail echo across the lake! The hair instantly stood up on every part of my body and I was so petrified that I could hardly breathe! I can't begin to describe that terrifying sound. Part animal and part human and all I could think was that Bigfoot was coming to eat us all up! I laid so still and could literally hear my heart pounding out of my chest. It seemed like no one else had heard the terrible cry, only me. Everyone else was sound asleep. When I finally got my breath back, I tried to wake up Daddy but he told me not to worry, to go on back to sleep. Yeah, right! I laid there wide-eyed and terrified! No way was I going to sleep with Bigfoot right outside our cabin! A little while later I heard this awful CLANG! BANG! CRASH! and thought for sure we were all goners. It sounded like it was right outside our cabin and I kept straining my eyes to that window above our cot for a glimpse of what surely would be a 20 foot tall hairy creature with glowing red eyes and long sharp teeth staring back down at me! Daddy assured me it was just racoons knocking over a garbage can, but my imagination was already on frantic overload! About that time, I heard a big commotion from the front of the cabin and turned my head to see a big figure standing right inside the screen door. Oh no! Bigfoot is here, in our cabin! But it was only my stepsister's six-foot-tall husband, who was up for some reason and had tripped over something (probably my poor stepsister!) on his way back to his sleeping bag. How much more of this could I stand?

I don't know how, but I finally managed to fall asleep and the next day it was so reassuring to see the campground and all our surroundings in full daylight. We were so disoriented having arrived in the black of night like that, and I think that added to my hysteria. The next day when we all could sit around and talk about what I'd heard the night before, Daddy tried to reassure me it was probably just an elk calling his mate across the lake, but I'm thoroughly convinced it was Bigfoot. Even now, thinking of that terrifying scream gives me goosebumps and makes the hair stand up on the back of my neck! Today, I don't think you could PAY me to go back for a night at Olallie Lake. I might make a day trip out of it, but I'm getting the heck out of there before the sun goes down, that's for sure!