I confess. I was an Ochocos doubter. I used to scratch my head like a flea-ridden cat when people talked about driving to the Ochocos, without my ever actually having made the roughly hour-and-a-half drive from Bend.

Consider me a convert. On Saturday, I packed up my share of the supplies and spent two nights camping with friends at Walton Lake, a 17-acre body of water smack in the heart of the Ochocos.

In Prineville, we stocked up on beer, ice and firewood at Ray’s Food Place, enjoyed a last meal at Quiznos, and were soon driving past the Ochoco Reservoir, the closest I’d ever come to the Ochocos.

My first surprise came in the ensuing miles, when we began to see large pastures off of U.S. Highway 26 followed by meadows and wildflowers. What kind of High Desert was this? These weren’t teensy meadows with a bunch of grass gasping for water. These were honest to goodness meadows with blooming wildflowers.

The signs of nature increased as the signs of civilization disappeared in the rearview mirror. We came upon a sign warning drivers of wild horses on the road, and we wouldn’t be disappointed, seeing one during the return trip. Just as I started to wonder if maybe I took a wrong turn somewhere, we arrived at Walton Lake, not too crowded and not too full for three eager, if not entirely ready, campers.

The first order of business was driving the perimeter road in order to find a decent site, a concern since we’d gotten a late start and worried all the people smart enough to head out on Friday would have beaten us to the Walton Lake’s 30 campsites. Not only were there a few available, one was in a section marked tent-camping only. (The sight of a monolithic RV next to a tent makes this camper feel like he woke up in the parking lot at Wal-Mart. Not that there’s anything wrong with that.)

We set up tents quickly, without argument, and then it was swim time. The water was chilly, but tub-temperatured compared with the numbing waters of the Cascade Lakes. It was a refreshing break on a hot Central Oregon afternoon in July, warm enough to spend 10 to 15 minutes splashing around without losing feeling in one’s extremities.

After our friend Jeremy Dickman decided to take his first of many naps during the trip, Bulletin sports reporter Mark Morical and I followed the lakeshore trail around to the Round Mountain trailhead, which has two in the area, including one intersecting with the lake trail. We didn’t go more than a half-mile up, however, as darkness and tiredness began to descend, but we made plans to come back the next day.

Back at camp, we sat around the fire, eating burgers, drinking beer, laughing and lazily tossing around a Nerf football. I don’t fish or hunt, but I’m starting to understand why guys go off into the woods. I didn’t think once about unloading the stupid dishwasher, making a dumb bed, checking the stinkin’ mail or much else one could describe as domestic or civilized during the entire weekend.

I’m fairly certain that we may have annoyed our neighbors with our barbaric yawps, for which I hereby apologize, but sometimes you need a good yawp, barbaric or otherwise.

On Sunday morning, songbirds awoke us at 5:30 a.m. That was peaceful enough, but they were soon replaced by a pair of birds who seemed to enjoy screaming at each other across the otherwise still and silent lake.

Before we set out on the hike, we ate a breakfast of Nutri-Grain bars. Hardly the makings of hardy, manly camping. Let’s just say two of us thought there’d be eggs for breakfast, but the one in charge of bringing them decided not to because he thought they’d break in the cooler. All of this is an elaborate set up for the fact that we were in no way prepared for the hike to the peak of Round Mountain. We were hungry, hungover to varying degrees and had brought along a total of 20 ounces of water.

Given these impediments, we should probably be commended for making it several miles up the 7.5-mile trail to Round Mountain, but I won’t hold my breath. Still, the terrain we did cover was amazing, the views rewarding. Some stretches were pine-filled, resembling the Tumalo Mountain trail, interspersed with green meadows. Dickman, who grew up in the Willamette Valley, remarked a few times that the vegetation was Valley-like, though he said this under sunny skies.

On the way back down, we briefly strayed down the wrong trail, but once we reached a road none of us could remember having crossed, we were safely headed back toward Walton Lake, bottles of water and another swim.

The lake is stocked with rainbow trout, and no gas-powered boats are permitted. Morical caught a couple of fish the first evening, before his line got pretty tangled. Untangling it would resemble something like work. He eventually did, but by then the fish were no longer biting.

During our weekend, we saw white-tailed deer, a wild horse and a hawk or two, along with dragonflies, butterflies and flies. I’ve heard complaints that horse flies are a problem in the area, but none of us were bitten by anything more tenacious than the occasional mosquito, thanks to a magical product called OFF! and a few anti-critter candles.

Note to self: Bring a guidebook to I.D. some of the wildflowers next time, and the proper ingredients for s’mores. Can’t go camping without s’mores.

If you go

Where: Walton Lake

Getting there: Take U.S. Highway 26 east from Prineville and branch right onto Forest Road 22. Turn left on Forest Road 22 near the Ochoco Ranger Station, then go about six more miles and take a left at the sign for Walton Lake.

Difficulty: Lakeshore trail is easy; Round Mountain Trail is moderate to difficult

Cost: Day use $5, one-vehicle campsite $15

Contact: 541-416-6500