In his plot for Noises Off, English playwright Michael Frayn plays on the concept of a play within a play, in this case a dreadful sex comedy titled Nothing On—the type of play in which young girls run about in their underwear, old men drop their trousers, and many doors continually open and shut. Nothing On is set in "a delightful 16th-century posset mill" that has been converted to a modern dwelling for which renters are solicited; the fictional playwright is appropriately named Robin Housemonger. Each of the three acts of Noises Off contains a performance of the first act of Nothing On. (Wikepedia)

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Kitty's favorite photo. Too risqué for the home page.

This is by no means a complete gallery of volunteer portraits. After all, it took more than 12,000 volunteer hours to put on the Rummage Sale.

Seniors and first graders lucked out with a perfect autumn day for their field trip to the the pumpkin patch. After lunch, they returned to campus to carve jack-o-lanterns. Many seniors remembered this favorite tradition from when they were first graders.

Link to photo gallery of images taken at the pumpkin patch by first grade teachers.

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Boo hoo. Their first grader was sick.

We gathered at the Catlin parking lot early Monday morning, 8 students and 2 adults.  After loading the bus and trailer with all our gear, we set off for the long drive to the Wallowa Mountains in NE Oregon.  On arrival in Richland we were trained in the care and loading of llamas, who were to carry most of our gear for the next 6 days.  We said goodbye to the llamas after this brief meeting and went to our forest service campsite on Eagle Creek for a chili and cornbread dinner and a lot of Frisbee.

The next morning we packed up and headed off to link up with the llamas.  After a loooooong drive on dusty dirt roads we finally arrived at the Main Eagle trailhead on the southern edge of the Wallowas.  Getting the llamas saddled and loaded the first time took a long time.  Fortunately their owner Gary patiently stayed and helped us do this.  Finally we were ready to set off into the wilderness.  We filled out our wilderness permit and started up the trail along Eagle Creek.  In places the trail was narrow and bush lined, so we had to hike single file.  The llamas could be linked together like a train, so that 7 students did not each need to take one.  The trail crossed the creek twice on sturdy wooden bridges.  We stopped for lunch at a narrow gorge, the first spot in a long while where the trail widened enough for us to get off it.  After the second bridge, the way got wilder as the trail continued up the glacially carved valley.  We had to ford the next stream.  There was a log for humans to cross on, but the llamas had to be led through the icy water.  At the next junction, the sign was gone, but it was pretty obviously the fork we were seeking.  We forded the main stream to find the steep climb to Bear Lake.  The water was so cold it was almost unbearable.  It was quite late at this point, due to the long drive, and the slowness of the loading and leading of the llamas, so we decided to camp in the beautiful streamside meadow, instead of making the freezing crossing and the steep ascent to Bear Lake.  We found a wonderful campsite, even complete with showers!  (Some previous campers had left two sun showers hanging on a log.)  We unloaded the llamas, pitched tents and made dinner.

The next day we pushed on up the valley.  We reached its end and climbed up a side trail to Eagle Lake, formed in the cirque left by the glacier that once filled and carved this valley.  The llamas had trouble negotiating the switchbacks and the llama trains had to be uncoupled so that the llamas could be led individually.  As the students had already become quite fond of the llamas, and knowledgeable about their quirks and characteristics, this was actually a welcome turn of events.  Although it was July, there was still a lot of ice floating on the lake.  We had lunch on a rock with grand views over the lake and down the valley we had ascended to reach it.   The descent to the junction with the main trail went more smoothly that the climb up had gone.  We continued up the main trail towards Cached Lake.  The trail had just emerged from being covered with snow, and no maintenance had yet been done.  We ran into an area with a lot of downed trees.  Some we were able to skirt by leading the llamas around them.  Some we cut out of the way with a collapsible saw.  But then the trail-blocking trees became too big and too numerous to deal with.  It took a half hour of scouting to find a way around the extensive blow down (or perhaps avalanched down) area.  Finally we arrived at Cached Lake, and set up camp.  There was snow in the area, so we could refrigerate our milk and dessert pudding.  We had a fire that night, and smores were made and enjoyed.

The following day we hoped to make it over the pass and down to the Minam River.  We broke camp and loaded up the llamas.  The trail led ever higher.  We got above the tree line, which meant ever grander vistas opened to our eyes.  It also meant increasing snow cover, and the trail became ever more challenging to find and follow.  In spots we had to go cross county considerable distances in order to try to keep the llamas happy.  (They didn’t like crossing the snow.)  We were successful in getting the llamas to within 200 feet of the pass.  Right at the pass a steep cornice on a lingering snow bank covered the trail.  Despite extensive scouting, we could not find a safe way to get the llamas over or around this obstacle.  We left them picketed on a relatively level spot by the trail, and made our own way up to the top of the ridge.  Here there was a wide, level meadow, a great place for lunch.  It was also high enough that we once again had cell phone reception, in the heart of the wilderness, and could call and change our pick up point for the end of the trip, as we would now have to backtrack on our route, instead of making a loop as originally planned.  We admired the panoramic view from here – back down the valley up which we had come, and on into the deep, green valley of the Minam River, from which the llamas were now excluded.  Entranced and enticed by this tempting view, we followed the trail some distance along the ridge, until it began to descend more steeply.  Reluctantly, we turned around, returned to the llamas and led them back to Cached Lake, where we remade camp.  As it was yet early, a group of adventurous explorers set off to investigate the far end of the lake and beyond.  They climbed up a long snow bank to cross a rocky ridge.  On the far side was an unexpected, hidden lush green meadow beside a burbling, crystal clear stream.  A fine place for a delicious snack.  They were tempted to linger there, but the call of the higher places upstream sang siren-like.  So they went on.  The way got steeper and looser and slipperier, but they persevered, even when forward progress slowed to creeping on hands and knees.  Finally a summit with a wide level space was reached.  After a rest, with congratulations and commendations all around (and a bit of first aid work), it was decided that descent was too dangerous by the route taken upward, so rather than go down again, the group continued upward to link up with the trail from earlier in the day.  The adventure thus became a loop hike, and ending up circling the lake (and then some).

On the day after this, we returned to our magnificent meadow campsite by Eagle Creek.  As this was a short, all downhill hike, we set up camp early, then set off to ford the creek and hike without the llamas up to Bear Lake, where we had intended to camp the first night.  Once we got there, we found that we actually had a much better campsite down by the creek in the meadow.  We ate our lunch in a much smaller campsite beside the lake, which was surrounded on two sides by immensely high, steep cliffs, and on the others by low banks with small, scraggly trees on them.  After lunch we split into two groups.  One (the sheep) returned to camp to nurse their burgeoning blisters, while the goats hiked a spur trail to Looking Glass Lake.  It seemed much farther than the 1.6 miles indicated on the map to this dammed lake, but once the initial steep climb was over, the trail was scenically spectacular.  We crossed small snow banks which provided cool, refreshing melt water for our water bottles.  A small tarn nestled in a broad meadow of blooming heather, transporting us momentarily to Scotland.  Our first view of our destination lake was from above, and we had to descend on extensive snow banks (by skiing on our shoes) to its banks.  This lake was surrounded by granite rocks that plunged directly into the deep water.  On some of them the glacial polish and striations left by the glacier that carved out the lake bed were quite evident.  The clear water was so enticing that all the students plunged into the water for a refreshing, icy dip.  Well, most of them plunged - the last whined and whinged his slow way in.  A swim out to a drowned tree was followed by a hasty retreat to dry off on sun-warmed but snow-surrounded rocks.

Our final full day started with a short hike down the valley to a campsite not so far from the trail head.  We found a shaded site right by rushing Eagle Creek. After setting up camp and picketing out the llamas, we set out to explore the “not maintained” trail to Arrow Lake.  It climbed steeply up the side of the valley.  Up and up and up it went.  After a stream crossing we found a well situated rock with a grand view for lunch.  But we were not yet at the top, so we continued on, going up ever more slowly, but keeping at it, until we’d climbed over 2000 feet, and were back in the land of snow.  False summits kept taunting us, making us think we were nearly at our goal, only to find another, higher ridge behind the one we had just topped.  At last, though, we reached the actual top, and the trail began to descend.  In the distance, too far in the distance, across a too deep canyon, we spied the lake we thought we were heading for, a snow free pond glimpsed from the snow blocked pass two days earlier, that we had thought to gain more easily by this alternate route.  But it was too far, the time too late, and the feet too tired to try to reach it today.  With heavy hearts we turned around and returned to a small, ice berg infested lake at the pass we had just crossed.  We sat down wearily for a well deserved peanut M&M break.  Careful perusal of the topo map revealed that this was actually the Arrow Lake we sought, not the tantalizing traitor we had seen in the distance.  Although disappointed in our ambition of being able to swim in the lake, deterred by the icebergs and the wind blown surface dust that collected at our end of the lake, we were nonetheless encouraged to realize that we had in fact reached our goal after all.  The descent went much more quickly and easily.  We were able to appreciate things we had missed on the way up, like the wild beauty of a corkscrew tree burned out in a spiral by lightning.

The last morning we got up an hour earlier than the previous mornings, to be sure of making the trailhead pickup for the llamas.  We were all such practiced hands at breaking camp and llama loading that we managed our quickest wake-up call to walk out time ever.  Even the llamas knew something was up, and for the first time all trip hiked at a pace over 2 miles per hour.  (Previously the best we’d been able to average with them was 1 mile an hour.)  As a result, we were back to the bus quite early, and were able to unpack and organize our things, as well as have some lunch and play some Frisbee before Gary and his family showed up to claim the llamas.  All too soon they were gone, and we began the long drive back to Portland.

Now we are left with great memories of the camaraderie of camp and trail; the magnificent scenery; the fabulous, filling food; the foibles of the llamas; the evenings of smores, Frisbee flinging and card playing; and the adventures of drinking melted snow, steep scrambles, shoe skiing, swimming, wilderness cuisine preparation and consumption, and trail finding.  Oh for another such trip!

Please watch the slideshow of this trip by clicking on any of the below photos and pressing "play."  Enjoy!
 

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Twenty-one members of the Class of 2009 are Lifers. The Lifers joined current preschool and kindergarten students in the Beehive to give advice, sing songs, and say, "so long it's been good to know you."