A Living Magazine - Day 37 - Monroe and Mint

I woke up to the sound of a car door slamming out in the parking lot, some 100 feet away. I sat up and looked out to see a father peeing on a tree and his son running toward my position. I stood up and slipped my feet into the boots. I tried my best not to frighten the kid, and just said, "Hello there," when he was about 20 feet away.

He immediately stopped in his tracks, waved and said, "Sorry..." Then he turned and ran back to his dad's tree to complete his mission. I didn't want to be "the homeless guy in the woods," but I guessed, since that's exactly what I was, that it didn't really matter.

They pulled out and drove away. And, I began my walk with some quick shots of the morning nest and the area surrounding it...

I felt rested but I was starting to become uncomfortably dirty again. Also, my feet were sore. I needed to buy some insoles. My heels were pulsing with pain. There has to be something said for endorphins, because I just kept walking (not that I had much choice) and the pain was able to be ignored after a few more miles.

It's always kind of a neat thing to walk from one county into another...

As with California, Oregon certainly had its variety of edible plants. In this mid-state region were apple and plum trees and the cultivars were mostly nuts...

Not sure what kind of nut this was.

The vast fields around me - some harvested, and some waiting for next season - were primarily hay, hazel nut groves and immense tracts of peppermint. The mint was a big surprise to me. I've grown several varieties myself. I wondered what the sweet smell in the air was before I saw my first field here. But, I was blown away by just how big the operations are. Oregon leads the country in this kind of cultivation, producing 35% of the nation's peppermint.

There was much to see along the road...

A hay field being irrigated.

Peppermint surrounds an old barn.

The formations on these white oaks are called "galls." They are produced by a wasp parasite. I found them everywhere. I first saw them in the Napa Valley of California and had no idea what they were, until researching this post. To learn more, click here: Oregon White Oak.

Entering into town, this was the first thing that I saw...

I knew Monroe would be small, but this place was tiny. Population: just over 600. I walked up 99 until I saw a street sign for Main Street. About halfway up Main, I realized there was nothing there but some residential houses. So, I turned around and made my way back to 99, and then continued north...

Not sure what this strange thing is?

Love it!

A holly bush.

I saw this trail marked on Google Maps, running between Junction City and Corvallis.

There was only one store to buy food at, so I bought a coffee and a breakfast sandwich. I suspected that if there was going to be anything else available in Monroe it would be on my walk out of town, continuing on 99W, going north. Right before the town line was a large modern library. I read the hours...

Wow! Three whole hours on this day!

I waited 4 1/2 hours and finally got in there to do the day's post. I had to hurry through it [as is also the case today], and didn't get a lot of time to make thoughtful commentary. Truth be told though, I didn't have much to say anyway. I wasn't even done when they were closing. I went outside and finished it, barely getting it sent before the Wi-Fi was shut off.

I steeled myself for at least a 10 mile walk, up until the sun went down. Then I would find a place to sleep and finish the trip in the morning. Here is what the non-shoulder of the road looked like...

Not even a break down lane!

I found a plum tree, enmeshed with an apple tree, and filled a small bag with both.

Then, I found this little Omega women's gold watch on the road, stuck at the time it was broken...

Amazingly, the watch was at the same time of day that I found it:

6:50 (my watch is three minutes fast).

Peppermint fields forever.

Around 8:45 pm, the sun was well-down and I had decided to spend the night in one of the large already-harvested fields of peppermint. I made sure I was well away from all houses, and headed in past the spruce tree border.

The rows of dead stems were about 14 inches apart; just perfect for my sleeping bag. I put the tarp down and the sleeping bag on top of it. I'd been noticing lately that the sleeping bag's foot end would be damp each time I pulled it out and realized that it was because of my sweat during the hikes. Letting that dry for about an hour, I eventually crawled in. The air was nice and cool, and a light breeze blew. The moon was very bright, but it didn't seem to make the blue sleeping bag stick out. I wasn't worried anyway. It was unlikely that transients slept in these fields. Maybe I was the first?

Corvallis sleeping spot.