Eclipse, eclipsed

This was going to be the Eclipse Epic Backpack Trip of All Time, but then reality intruded, and intruded, and intruded, and intruded, and watch Richard plan Trip A, then Trip B, then Trip C...I think we finally implemented Plan Z when it was all said and done.

The 2017 solar eclipse was going to be in totality about 120 miles north of Roseburg, making landfall on the Oregon coast, near Cape Lookout. Plan A was to grab grandkids and hike to the top of Neahkanie Mountain. Amazingly, there were still rooms available in the area hotels and motels, for a paltry $1,500 a night! That's when Plan B got hatched.

Plan B was pretty cool, in concept. Me and the grandkids would pack in to Table Lake in the Mount Jefferson Wilderness, spend a weekend at the lake and see an eclipse, how cool was that? But then the news media began to air and print stories about 2 million visitors from out of state on our narrow two-lane highways, with many erstwhile city folk traipsing off into the woods to start forest fires because they just have to light a campfire in fire season. Hmm, beginning to rethink this. However, the decision was made when the Whitewater Fire opened fire season on the north side of Mount Jefferson. Time for Plan C!

Plan C was to hike to Opie Dildock Pass just north of North Sister. We'd be leaving the 100% total eclipse zone but hey, 98% was not bad, either. But then the Rebel and Separation Fires started flaming up the west side of the Sisters and half of the Three Sisters Wilderness was closed. Plan D, anyone?

Plan D was a backpack in to Park Meadows and Golden Lakes on the east side of the Three Sisters. But that plan also went up in smoke when the Milli Fire started up on Black Crater and nearby Millican Crater. If Black Crater wasn't black before, it is now. More problematic than the smoke and fire, was that road access to the trailhead had been cut off, thanks to good ol' Milli.

Totally giving up on backpacking by now, Plan E was for me, Daweson, and Issiah to drive up to Salem and watch the eclipse with Vic (my sister) and (her) husband John. But coming back from Lassen National Park, the transmission on my Jeep started to give me problems and eventually the transmission had to be replaced. Naturally, the Jeep had to stay in the Jeep hospital for a couple of weeks, precluding any driving up to Salem. Time for Plan F, also known as Plan Fail.

Since we weren't going anywhere, I begged and pleaded with Dollie to loan her car to me and she relented, but not before calling me "car killer" and other such epithets. So me and the boys got up at some ungodly hour to drop off Dollie at work before heading up to the North Bank Deer Habitat. An early morning start would put us atop the Boundary Ridge in time for the sun show. But by now, the North Umpqua Complex Fires were in full fiery glory and the smoke was so thick, we could not even see the sun.

Plan G, or Plan #$&%, as I like to call it, was to watch the eclipse from the driveway at home and wow, we actually pulled that one off! So despite all the plans made, reality intervened several times over. But the way I figure it, Douglas County is due to experience another total eclipse 6 years from now, and the fates owe me big time for that one!

Chaos Crags

Chaos and crags are two of my favorite things, any hike with those two things in the name should be pretty awesome, based solely on the name alone! This was the day to return back to smoky Roseburg so I was looking for a short good-bye hike to close out my all-too brief visit to Lassen Volcanic National Park. The classic hikes in the park are Bumpass Hell and the hike to the Lassen Peak summit, but alas, both trails were closed because of snow. Considering the entire western United States was on fire during a blazing hot summer, it was odd to have snow intrude into a hiking itinerary but that's the kind of year 2017 has been. 

Summit Lake in the morning, near my campsite

So chaos and crags it was, and I set off on a soft dusty trail on what was turning out to be a fairly warm day. Because of the the relative aridity on the east side of the Cascades, combined with poor soils and frequent forest fires, there wasn't a lot of vegetative growth underneath a struggling forest. On the left side of the trail, a steep slope dropped down to heard-but-not-seen Manzanita Creek. 

Boulders, for no reason

Lassen Peak's last eruptive cycle lasted from 1914 to 1917 and there were large isolated boulders strewn about, lying underneath the trees that had sprouted forth since the eruption. The boulders gave me a notion that I might be hiking near the alluringly-named Devastated Area but no, that volcanic playland was about 4 or 5 miles southeast of  me. 

A doe and fawn and I look at each other

The trail climbed uphill, the grade seeming to be more brisk than it really was, due to the elevation being substantially higher than my customary low altitude in Winston, Oregon. Despite what my wobbly legs were trying to tell me, the grade was, while unrelenting, fairly gentle as it climbed up to the Chaos Crags. Fire had visited this area within the last few years, judging by the singed trunks of the trees. A doe and her fawn kept an eye on me and I held on tight to my hiking poles, just in case. As the route climbed higher and higher, the forest faded and the trail gradually morphed into a rocky path with low-growing kinnickinnic stuffed into the cracks between the rocks. 

Magee Peak, in the distance

I was a little out of my element here, so it was difficult to slap names on all the forested cones dotting the landscape to the east of a ridge-crest viewpoint. I believe I was looking at Sugarloaf Peak and Magee Peak in the Thousand Lakes Wilderness. Haven't been to that particular wilderness yet, but I have to think in early summer, an alternate name for the Thousand Lakes Wilderness might be the Billion Mosquitos Wilderness. At any rate, the scenic panorama extended a cordial invitation to come feed the mosquitoes on a future visit.

Time for the afternoon thunderstorm to form

Lunch was eaten at the viewpoint and as expected, wispy mare's tail clouds formed, followed by small puffy white clouds that increased in size as time wore on. No doubt, there'd be an inevitable afternoon thunderstorm, just like every other day on this trip. So, it was time to finish off this hike in a relative hurry, because high on an exposed mountain pass is not the place from which to possibly experience a lightning storm. 

Chaos Crags

A short push to a rocky pass served up a neck-craning view to a wall of volcanic rock above the trail. While Chaos Crags are suitably craggy with jagged rock carving up blue sky and white clouds alike, the crags are really crater children of Lassen Peak. A bowl below a rock wall contains mossy little Crag Lake and the bowl is actually the crags' crater.

Slightly singed forest

After a short look-see, I bid adieu to both the crags and Lassen Volcanic National Park. It was an all too short visit but my appetite for further adventures in this volcanic wonderland is sorely whetted. I'll be back for a more ambitious trip, plus the Thousand Lakes Wilderness just got added to my very long list. And speaking of trips, I had a long trip to Roseburg ahead of me. I also had a transmission failure waiting for me on the way back but that's OK, the warranty had just expired (sarcasm!). That particular type of chaos is not one of my favorite things. 

A robber fly cases me

For more pictures of this hike, please visit the Flickr album.

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Lassen Volcanic National Park - Twin Lakes

When hot air meets cold air, the volatile mix usually creates bad things like tornadoes, hurricanes, and presidential elections (different kind of hot air!). One of those bad weather things is lightning, and as July relinquished control of the calendar to August, a run of hot weather collided with cooler mountain air, birthing an epic spider hatch of lightning storms. Preceding the electrical storms, an extended heat wave had left the forests dry as an asthmatic skeleton's breath, just waiting for slightest spark to set the whole thing ablaze. A single lightning strike carries 100 million to a billion volts of current and when hundreds of ionized clouds equalize their potential (physics term!), the end result is a foregone conclusion: forest fires everywhere.

So many destinations!

In the North Umpqua River canyon and the in Rogue-Umpqua Divide Wilderness, there were somewhere between 30 and 50 individual forest fires sparked to existence during the first storm. And to make things worse, there was a week or so of nightly lightning light shows, kicking the total of fires close to 100 but at that point, who's counting? Naturally, there was not going to be much hiking going on in the Umpqua National Forest with every trail either on fire or about to be on fire.

Some of that afternoon rain

There wasn't going to be much hiking to the north of us either, the Mount Jefferson and Three Sisters Wildernesses were similarly alight. And forget about the Siskiyous, too: the Red Buttes, Applegate Lake, Kalmiopis Wilderness, and Grayback Mountain areas were all going up in smoke as well. So, where can an incredibly handsome hiker go hiking when all the usual suspects are in fiery off-limits? On this weekend, the answer lay out of state, in California.

Boardwalk in Dersch Meadows

When I called Lassen Volcanic National Park to inquire about fire conditions, the ranger said there was a large fire burning to the north but the air in the park was "only" hazy. Looking out the window where the air was acrid and dirty brown, merely hazy sounded pretty good. "Hazy" is the new "blue sky" in this summer of smoky discontent, apparently. The air was bad in Roseburg, but then again, there was Grants Pass with air about 10 time worse than Roseburg's. And Medford? Yikes! Medford's air was virtually solid and visibility was limited to less than a mile as I drove south to California. 

Here the gray is from rain clouds,
in southern Oregon it is from smoke

Lassen Volcanic National Park is about a 6 hour drive from Roseburg, so it was late afternoon when I finally started hiking after obtaining my backpacking permit at the Hat Lake ranger station. The ranger issuing the permit warned me about recent bear activity at Upper Twin Lake and about lightning in the afternoon. As I started, storm clouds had already rolled in and thunder rumbling was a constant aural backdrop to the sounds of my labor as I walked.

Lassen Peak and Summit Lake

The hike begain at green Dersch Meadows and the mosquitoes came by to say hello. Most mosquitoes were dispatched with some perfunctory mosquito slapping, the unneeded tube of Deet remained ensconced in my pack for the time being. In just under a mile, the trail sideswiped Summit Lake, a popular spot with a large campground next to it. From the treeless shore, there was a nicely dramatic view of snowy Lassen Peak brooding under the dark clouds.

Uphill in the rain...whee!

After making a left turn at a trail junction by the lake, the route briskly headed uphill through stunted trees and low-growing kinnickkinnic ground cover blooming away. I was feeling walky and actually enjoyed the uphill hiking. The path eventually topped out on a level bench and as usual, the level hiking was enjoyed more than the uphill stuff. The day had gone quite dark with an impending storm hovering overhead. And then the rain started and before long, I was backpacking with my raingear on. Maybe my Oregon is showing, but I really enjoyed the rain after the protracted heatwave back in Oregon.

Pollen coated the rain puddles

After dropping down the backside of that level bench, the trail passed by scenic Echo Lake and several other smaller nameless lakes and ponds. The ground was carpeted with the fine yellow dust of pine pollen and the puddles on the trail were coated with a film of pollen. While thunder rumbled incessantly, I saw no lightning strikes, and I was grateful for that.

Upper Twin Lake, from my campsite

I strung my hammock up on the narrow forested isthmus separating Upper and Lower Twin Lakes. The ranger said they had received reports of bears looking for food from campers but the only intruders I spotted were chipmunks darting frenetically on logs and tree trunks, and a family of deer with a fawn in tow. Just in case, I tied my hiking poles to a tree, but these deer seemed uninterested, unlike their thieving cousins in the Red Buttes Wilderness.

The storm broke up as the day ended

After an hour or two of steady rain, the storm finally ebbed and the cloud cover broke up. The sun was sinking behind the mountains, lighting up the dissipating clouds as soft breeze ruffled Upper Twin Lake's surface. I sat next to the lake, eating my dinner and taking pictures, life was good as the day ended.

Ducks swim away from me at Lower Twin Lake

Day 2 started out with a mild headache and I definitely did not feel walky like the day before. But hiking slowly along Lower Twin Lake in the morning is the way hikes like this should go. The lake was like polished glass and the blue sky and small puffy clouds reflected photogenically upon the lake. At the far end of the lake, round Fairfield Peak presided over the lake scenery.

I was on a short section of the Pacific Crest Trail

At the southeastern corner of the lake, I grabbed a piece of of the Pacific Crest Trail that ambled through a thin forest with green grass growing underneath. I'd only be on the venerable PCT for about a half mile as my route peeled off the PCT and headed toward Rainbow Lake. After the trail junction, it didn't take very long for the path to leave the forest and enter an old burn zone.

What Oregon will look like after this summer 

There were no live trees here, just acres and acres of a somber tree graveyard consisting of snags arrayed against a blue sky. There was no shade and the sun mercilessly hotted up the day. It was around here that my mild headache went up to whatever the next level up from mild is. The tedium of walking through the dry burn zone was broken up by Rainbow Lake.

Scenic little Rainbow Lake

After bushwhacking to the lake's shore and snapping some photographs, I continued on a switchbacking trail up a fire-denuded ridge that had a nice view of the tip of Lassen Peak. Now my headache had become an issue, it was almost migraine-ish, so I beat a retreat back to Rainbow Lake and plopped down in a shady spot to sleep it off.

Here comes the afternoon storm

Several hours later, I woke up somewhat replenished, my headache was back to being just mild. Shouldering my backpack burden, I headed back to Lower Twin Lake but the campsite there was full of recent bear scat, this must have been where the bear activity I had been warned about had taken place. I continued on toward Upper Twin Lake but like clockwork, the afternoon rain clouds had darkened up the day.

Lower Twin Lake in the afternoon

Progress was slow around Lower Twin Lake because the scene was delightfully moody and brooding. Gloomy clouds imparted their darksome air to Fairfield Peak reflecting upon the eerily still lake. Much photography and not so much hiking ensued.

Large thunderheads in the distance

The rain and hail started when I arrived at Upper Twin Lake and I didn't feel like setting up camp in a downpour so I just kept on walking. Despite rain falling from the dark clouds, there were patches of blue sky all around,  the windows in the clouds offering views of massive thunderhead clouds surrounding the lake basin. With all the thunderheads proliferating on the east side of Lassen Peak, it'll truly be a miracle if this area does not get set on fire before the summer ends.

Echo Lake, when it was hailing

After passing Echo Lake, another long climb took me up to the level bench with its nice view of Lassen Peak. The rain finally let up as this 10'ish mile hike (not bad for a guy with a headache) was put to rest by offering myself up to the mosquitoes emanating from Dersch Meadows. While I couldn't get my boots off fast enough, because of the mosquitoes, the lack of wildfires and smoke made this a thoroughly enjoyable sojourn.

Heatwave? What heatwave?

For more pictures of this hike, please visit the Flickr album.

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Lemolo Lake Loop

I was reading the News-Review the other day and it was all about politics, weather, sports, blah, blah, blah, when all of a sudden the headline leaped off the page and slapped my hind with a melon rind, fully getting my undivided attention: "New trail coming to Lemolo Lake". Finally, something worth reading! Well, besides well-written and semi-regular stories about hiking in the Outdoors section titled "Richard Hikes", that particular column is always worth reading.

Where mosquitoes come from

Seems the Umpqua National Forest was wrapping up construction on a new trail, making possible a 10'ish mile hike all the way around Lemolo Lake. There already was an existing trail connecting East Lemolo Campground to Lake Creek, and the North Umpqua Trail sideswipes the lake on the north side, but until now, the trek around the lake on established trails was not possible. Also, the the new trail was built with mountain bikers, Nordic skiers, snowshoers, and even us lowly hikers in mind. Accordingly, the trail was designed to be fairly level and wide enough in most places for two bikes to ride side by side. Just saying, but if this would have been a hiker-only trail, it'd have charged straight uphill because nobody cares about hikers and no, I'm not bitter.

View to Bunker Hill from across the lake

Because the trail was built in soft pumice soil, the Forest Service is going to let winter rain and snow tamp down the poofy soil. Therefore, the official ribbon-cutting ceremony is slated to take place sometime next year. All of this was set out in the newspaper article, but what again leaped off the page and slapped my lid with a thawed out squid, was the one sentence towards the end, which stated hikers could "...use the trail after its construction is completed this Sunday." Well, I know what I'm doing next weekend!

Hazy view to Cinnamon Butte

Well, after impatiently waiting through the longest week ever, it turned out that hiking at Lemolo Lake might have been somewhat questionable, since fire season had begun the week prior. Roseburg had been putting on its best Los Angeles imitation, what with solid air being dirty and brown with smoke. All the particulate matter discoloring the sky was primarily from the Spruce Lake and the Blanket Creek Fires (the two would later be combined into the High Cascades Fire) in the Crater Lake area, but things would get worse when North Umpqua Complex fires started up 3 days after this hike.

New trail!!!!

At any rate, I was pleased to park the car at the Lemolo Lake dam, where the air was only slightly hazy. It could easily have been a lot worse. Southern Oregon was in the throes of a protracted heat wave so I was equally pleased to see the temperature was 86 degrees, it could easily have been a lot worse too. What was disappointing, though, were the black clouds of mosquitoes pestering me as I laced up my shoes, it could easily have been a lot less worse, but it wasn't.

I love shade on a warm day

The new trail was prominently visible, as it had been recently cut into the ashy slopes. The trees were festooned with pink ribbons marking the route, which was a good thing in a couple of places, as there were absolutely no signs posted yet. The pink ribbons also made me wonder if Lane had hiked here before me. I was pre-excited to be the first to set foot on this trail but, alas, I noticed other footprints and bicycle tire tracks on the path, some other trail lovers had beat me to the punch. "Good thing I don't really care" I thought to myself, as I blinked back my tears of disappointment.

Confusing trail junction

The dusty trail wandered through the woods before spitting me out onto the boat ramp at Lemolo Lake Resort. After exchanging pleasantries with cabin residents, I followed the trail as it wandered over to the road to Poole Creek Campground. Here, I lost the trail, as I didn't see where to pick it up again on the other side of the road. I followed a use trail along the lakeshore, muttering lots of "excuse-me(s)" as I walked through people's campsites. Eventually the path petered out as I left the campground behind, but I spotted the trail in the forested slope above. Apparently, I had needed to walk up the road instead of going straight across like I did. Oh, well, it's all part of the teething process for an infant trail.

The new trail was in soft pumice

Pumice and volcanic ash had been deposited here about 7,000 years ago, courtesy of Mount Mazama blowing itself out of existence. Nowadays, Mount Mazama's crater is referred to as Crater Lake National Park. The pumice and ash had lain undisturbed for at least 7 millenniums, until a small bulldozer scraped off the vegetation and topsoil when the trail was constructed. My feet sunk a couple of inches into the dusty soil and it was a lot like walking in soft sand.

Lake Creek

Occasional views of the lake allowed me to see the east end of the lake several miles ahead of me. But before I could round the lake, a two-mile detour around the arm of Lake Creek was required. As the trail approached the meadows and swampy area at the Lake Creek inlet, a small herd of deer took off running, startled at my arrival. That felt good: me startling deer, for a change. After a bridge crossing of the fairly large creek running with crystal clear water, the route resumed on a real trail.

Some of the old trail is in Lemolo Lake

Also very real, regrettably, was a noticeable increase of mosquitotude, apparently they are happy to live in creeks, meadows, and swamps. Go figure. The trail climbed up to some pumice cliffs that provided great views of Bunker Hill across the lake. Did I mention the pumice soil was soft? Some of that softness was evident where the cliffs had been eroded, taking a piece of the Lemolo Lake Trail with it. I had to bushwhack above and around the small slide to continue on my journey.

What lodgepole beetles do to lodgepole trees

As I approached the East Lemolo Campground, the trail entered a stand of dead lodgepole pine trees, apparently pine beetles have done a number on the trees here. Both East Lemolo and Inlet Campgrounds are sited near the confluence of the North Umpqua and Spring River(s). The confluence is predictably marshy, swampy, and meadowy and the mosquitotude just ramped up by a factor of 17.1. I took few pictures here because the mosquitoes were truly horrendous, I didn't dare stop for fear of being eaten alive, one mosquito bellyful at a time. I had put on plenty of Deet but it didn't matter, I was below the bottom rung of the food chain and it was feeding time. Amazingly, the campgrounds were full of people apparently willing to feed their small children to the mosquitoes for a weekend.

The North Umpqua River

A short walk on a paved road took me across the North Umpqua River, looking particularly scenic as it rounded a bend before entering Lemolo Lake. The loop around Lemolo Lake would then be closed by walking on the North Umpqua Trail. I had hiked this section of the NUT before, but remember being not particularly impressed. Yes, the trail provides no views of the lake but does provide great views of cars whizzing by on paved Forest Road 2612.

The North Umpqua Trail passes through some burn zones

In 2015, this section of the trail was closed due to a complex of fires burning on Bunker Hill and now, the NUT goes in and out of the burn zones. The shady bits were most welcome but the open burn zones were bursting with sun-loving greenery and the whole vibe was quite peaceful. I'll have to revise my previous snooty opinion of this section of the NUT. After two miles, the trailhead at the dam came into view and the hike was over after crossing the dam.

Lemolo Lake, from the dam

At the dam, Lemolo Lake stretched out before me and the haze had dissipated, leaving snow flecked Mount Thielsen, Howlock Mountain, and Cinnamon Butte eminently visible beyond the lake. Also visible above the mountains was a wall of black clouds: an incoming thunderstorm was coming in. The subsequent week's worth of lightning was sufficient to set most of the Umpqua National Forest ablaze and the highway linking Roseburg and Crater Lake was and will be closed for an extended period of time. Because of the fires, this hike will probably be my last hike in this area until next year but it was nice to get in a new hike on a new trail. Hopefully, wildfire won't ruin this trail before it can even officially open.

Bunker Hill, from the south shore of Lemolo Lake

For more pictures of this hike, please visit the Flickr album.

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