Washington Dry, Washington Wet

Hydrophobia altered the course of events. We'd planned on fleeing the madding crowds to spend five June days in the wild east Chilcotin country of BC, around and about Churn Creek Protected Area. The extended forecast called for rain every day. We balked. As consolation prize we considered the Wenas Creek region of dry central Washington. There the extended weather icon was the same: sun, sun, sun. We went. I was first smitten with Wenas way back in 1984 during a birding trip with good buddy Bruce Whittington. I vowed then to return soon. Other things cropped up, 29 years flew past. How many 29-year lots can a fella expect in his lifetime? If he's lucky and looks both ways before crossing the street, he might get three, and shuffle off at 87.

Wenas was magical 29 years ago and it was again. Where else can you clamber into a car, drive 300 km or so and find yourself in a place so utterly different from home? Different geography, different climate, different fauna and flora. Better still, we had Wenas pretty much to ourselves. A prime target was an unlike-any-other bird, the white-headed woodpecker, which I first saw those 29 years ago whilst taking a bath in Wenas Creek. It took most of the first day to see one, then serendipity: six encounters in our day-and-a-half idyll.

And not just whiteheads, but calliope hummingbird, western bluebird, veery, pygmy nuthatch, mountain chickadee, none of which we have a hope of seeing in Victoria. The first night a flammulated owl struck up a conversation just beyond our tent. Had the birding flagged – which it didn't – no problem, everywhere I looked unfamiliar wildflowers bloomed. I photographed dozens.

We moved on to Lower Crab Creek, another '84 jewel. Back then Bruce and I enjoyed terrific birding, climbed a high bluff and got nose-to-nose with a rattlesnake. No such good fortune this time, but Jan and I rhapsodized over prairie falcons and white-throated swifts at the bluff tops and a great egret down by the crick.

The ground we covered was not altogether familiar to me. We went to Columbia National Wildlife Refuge and required new superlatives to describe our day: dramatic high-cliff vistas, spectacular cloud formations, desert wildflowers, big charismatic birds – white pelicans, northern harriers, more great egrets. A refuge ranger confided, apropos the weather and cloud drama, "it hardly ever gets this good".

We moved north along the once-magnificent, now-tamed Columbia River. We passed three dams in an hour or so, Dry Falls, Grand Coulee and Chief Joseph, the latter doubly sad, for the remembered insults given to both the river and the great Nez Perce chief. I ought to have read the augury: we deployed the tent at a state park, Bridgeport. At first all went well – a chilled bottle of Washington pinot gris, a blithe evening, eastern kingbirds entertaining us right by the tent. Things went south at about 10:40 when we were jolted awake: water lashed the tent from not one but three high-pressure sprinklers. With the tent flaps left open for better ventilation, we were instantly soaked. Abbott and Costello might have extracted great merriment from such a scene but the folks in the tent didn't laugh at all. We managed to run the gauntlet and get the tent to an unsprinkled corner of the tenting area. Sleep proved elusive.

After the Bridgeport debacle we crossed the border at Osoyoos and spent a final night at BC's own Manning Park. In the park lodge, not the tent. Manning was good to us. No sprinklers, plenty of flowers and birds to contemplate. While I was busy taking pictures of a gray jay – I prefer the bird's former name, Canada jay – Jan had a choice find, a bright male three-toed woodpecker. Townsend's and Audubon's warblers sang along the road to the Sub Alpine Meadows Area. Pikas, varying hares and mule deer provided generous photo ops. At the Cascade Lookout Clark's nutcrackers and ravens shamelessly begged for chips.

Apart from the one exception already mentioned it was a marvelous, dry time we had in Washington's Columbia Plateau. I certainly recommend the region as a terrific, natural destination. With just one caveat: if you happen to contemplate a night at Bridgeport State Park may I recommend that you inquire about the sprinkling schedule before choosing your tent site.