just what the doctor ordered

I have been in a funk for the past two months.

Nothing seemed to interest me. Walking. Reading. Cooking. Meeting up with friends.

We all have those moods. But this one had been lasting far too long. And it ended today.

After getting chores done around the new house, Christie asked me if I was interested in taking a hike to Barnes Butte -- northeast of Prineville. Darrel and she had hiked there on Easter.

The trail was filled with the promise of spring. Obviously, the wild flowers and green grass would have faded with the summer heat. But she promised the type of wonders that central Oregon can provide.

I almost begged off -- until I realized that getting out in the fresh air may be exactly what I needed. And I was correct.

So, Darrel, Christy, and I tucked ourselves in their Suburau -- along with a rescue dog named George that my pistol-packing niece had left with them.

The drive to the IronHorse (that is how it is spelled) trail head must have taken no more than fifteen minutes. We dutifully read the rules and regulations, and probably violated one or two before we were steps along the way.

Prineville sits in the hollow left by an extinct volcano. Those of you who remember your geology courses would call it a caldera. So do the local folk. The remaining rim is 27 miles by 16 miles -- and covers three of Oregon's counties.

All of that volcanic activity gives the area a very distinctive look. Flat-topped ridges surround the town. (Darrel lives on one of them.) And there is exposed volcanic rock everywhere.

Barnes Butte, at 3500 feet, is a perfect example. It is primarily made of welded tuff -- a stone used extensively in older buildings around town.

If it is igneous, you are likely to find it along the trail. My favorites are the red rock formations that house a menagerie of lichens.

One of the downsides of hiking is the constant need to remain vigilant for trail hazards. That head-down mode is not conducive for sight-seeing. And there are sights aplenty to see along the trail.

Even prosaic junipers fronting summer-bleached grass fields and desert shrubs can renew the soul.

If you enlarge that photograph, you will also see one of man's wonders of the world. That white structure in the middle of the ridge is a new addition to Prineville's economy. A giant Facebook data storage center.

The place is huge. Two more buildings will soon be completed. When they are, there will be a total of 3.2 million square feet of floor space to store all of the personal data Facebook has harvested when you filled out that quiz "Is Your IQ Higher than Einstein's?" or "What Color Would You Be If You Were A Bird?" (Why is it that the web violates every rule on title capitalization?)

But we were not there to see how how Mark Zuckerberg has invested his money. We were hiking.

No good hike is worth its story unless a wrong turn is taken. We did not make it to the top of Barnes Butte, but we found a great spot to take in the surrounding farmland.

Because we had started our hike late in the day and the dog was in a bit of distress, we decided to reverse course and call it a day.

According to my step counter, we walked just under 5 miles. Whatever the distance was, it was a perfect tonic for me. And I have no idea what made it such a good day. The walk. The scenery. The clean central Oregon air. Or just spending time with my family.

When we got home, I was invigorated enough to read -- and then to sit down and joyously share my tale with you.

We are considering the possibility of taking on the butte tomorrow. Without the dog.

It really is good to be alive.