Fawn and Stag Lakes

Forgive me if I start fawning over Fawn Lake. Sometimes, it feels like mountain lakes in the Cascades are a dime a dozen but Fawn Lake is arguably one of the better ones. Situated in a high mountain pass at the base of several cragged and jagged peaks, the postcard view of the lake is a ready made advertisement for hiking in the Diamond Peak Wilderness. To top it off, there is a large rocky bench overlooking the lake with just the perfect backpacking campsite atop it. Be it day hike or backpack trip, Fawn Lake is most definitely a worthy destination. 

These guys!

Doe Lake is nowhere to be found but never fear, Fawn Lake is not an orphan because a protective and nurturing Stag Lake keeps watch from nearby. I can relate to that because I single-parented my kids for seven years, and how about a tip of the hat to all the stags out there raising fawns all on their own. Anyway, after hiking to Stag Lake, I'm all about stagging over Stag Lake because Fawn Lake comes in a close second best, scenery-wise. And if you think I overplayed the cervine puns and references, “Oh, deer!” is all I’ve got to say. By the way, my mother's sister Lerna has always gone by the name of Ler for short, but us kids just call her Aunt Ler. Oh, deer, once again.

Let's go hiking!

This was the final day of our campout at Odell Lake so it stood to reason that our last hike had better be a good one. We disembarked from our vehicles at the Crescent Lake boat ramp parking lot and in a hiking oddity, we had to hike a short distance to the actual Fawn Lake Trailhead. In other words, we had to hike from the trailhead to the trailhead, and that made about as much sense as the Electoral College. We were going to Fawn Lake of course, but the Metolius-Windigo Trail also departs from the same trailhead. Curious about this trail, I did a little research and found out the MWT is about 100 miles long and runs from the Mount Jefferson Wilderness to Windigo Pass in our own Umpqua National Forest. I'm game, who's with me on this? 

An easy walk through gorgeous woods

But back to the subject at hand, I'm supposed to be writing about the hike to Fawn Lake and not about enticing 100 mile long trails that call to me. In keeping with the volcanic legacy of the Diamond Peak Wilderness, the trail was dry and dusty and surrounded by a lush and healthy forest that gradually transitioned to a forest of scrawny lodgepole pine trees as we gained elevation. The grade was always uphill but never what I would call steep so it was a pleasant walk through the woods and volcanic dust on the way up to Fawn Lake. 

The gawking begins at Fawn Lake

After three miles of easy hiking, we arrived at peaceful Fawn Lake. The lake reposed poetically in a forested bowl surrounded by tall mountains. At the opposite end of the lake, loomed craggy Lakeview Mountain, Peak 6892, and Redtop Mountain which was mostly tucked around a corner of the lake. The air was fairly still so all the aforementioned peaks reflected nicely on the lake's surface. I had been here before but none of my ducklings had been, so it did my heart good to hear all the oohing and aahing from my appreciative brood. 

Part of the hike up to Stag Lake

After a requisite stop for a view soak, we grabbed the Crater Butte Trail which rounded the north shore of Fawn Lake. The path climbed steadily through thin woods and low scrub, the view of the lake improving until it eventually receded from view. The trail was seemingly heading straight to Peak 6892 but before we crash landed on the peak, so to speak, we made a right turn onto the Stag Lake Trail. 

The Stag Lake impostor

"Is that all there is?" we collectively wondered as we gazed at a very unimpressive semi-stagnant pond with lily pads floating on the surface. All that work to get here and it was sad indeed to get so disappointed by an underwhelming pond until John noticed a continuation of the trail. And me with a GPS that I didn't even think to consult with! Fortunately, the trail did continue to a lake that just had to be Stag Lake. Just to be sure, I checked my GPS this time. 

All the magnificent scenery still cannot
prevent me from acting like an idiot

Stag Lake sits right at the foot of craggy and impressive Lakeview Mountain, the gray rock looking as formidable and unassailable as a medieval redoubt. The symmetrical cone of Peak 6892 was also looking down upon Stag Lake, just not from front and center like Lakeview Mountain was doing. Lake, mountains, and forests were all reposing under a clear and deep blue sky spread out above. Such magnificent scenery just demanded a lengthy and reverential contemplation stop and we so obliged. 

Missy hikes through a lodgepole forest

After an hour-long view soak, lunch, and general all-around lollygaggery spent lazing in the sunshine with maybe a nap or two by a hiker or two, it was back the way we had come. On the way back, we made sure to retrieve some of our friends who stayed behind at Fawn Lake for a shorter hike and I’m glad to report we finished the hike with the same amount of hikers we started out with. I’m also glad to report that the weather was absolutely glorious, unlike my only other outing here where I had to run down the trail dodging lightning bolts hurled by weather gods using me for target practice. Some experiences don’t need to be relived. 

Part of that great campout at Odell Lake

All present agreed this had been a grand hike and the whole campout at Odell Lake had been an unqualified success. For more photos of this hike, please visit the Flickr album. 

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Fawn Lake

I really detest deer, I've had my hiking poles stolen one too many times and have suffered through about 40 too many camp raids at 2 A.M. to feel anything but hate in my heart for the cervine larcenists. My antipathy towards the antlered devils even triggers involuntary conniption fits whenever I hear the phrase "North Bank Deer Habitat", even though I hike there often. 

Gnome plant emerges 

"But fawns are cute" I am told. Well, you shouldn't have kittens if you don't like cats. As a person who regularly gets tormented by a singularly annoying cat that I can't hurt because it belongs to my wife, I don't have kittens. And following that same logic, I don't have fawns, either, because they are sure to grow up to be hiking-pole stealing adult deer. So deep is my loathing of all things deer, that I nearly didn't want to ever hike to Fawn Lake ever, just because of the name.

Wispy clouds foretold the arrival of a thunderstorm

But what's in a name, anyway? Not much, in the case of Fawn Lake. The lake is an absolute gem of a lake sparkling in the midst of all the scrawny lodgepole trees and dusty pumice soil so prevalent on the east side of the Cascades. I'd even go there again, in spite of its titular homage to baby deer.

Most of the hike was inside the wilderness

Starting at the Crescent Lake boat ramp parking lot, the trail went dusty at the outset as it wandered through sparse woods before crossing paved Forest Road 60. Once across the road, the trail entered the Diamond Peak Wilderness and became a real hike, with mosquitoes and everything. Deet was quickly slathered on to ward off the airborne school of six-legged piranhas.

Yup, my view for nearly 4 miles

Angling gently uphill for all of its 3.7 miles, the trail passed through viewless forest consisting of mostly spindly lodgepole pine trees. At just under the one mile mark, the Fawn Lake Trail intersected with the Pretty Lake Trail. My guidebook said the Pretty Lake Trail was unmaintained and sketchy but it looked like it's seen the love lately as it was wide, clear of fallen trees and brush, and with trail tread well tromped out by lots of hiker boots. I think I just found my return route back from Fawn Lake!

Lodgepole trees in all their scrawny glory

There wasn't a lot to see on the way up. It was hot and the forest was full of mosquitoes so mostly, I kept my head down and just trudged uphill. It was quite jarring when the trail, without warning or preamble, just bumped into Fawn Lake, where I plopped down to enjoy the view and eat lunch while slapping at mosquitoes brave enough to drill past the thick layer of Deet on my skin.

Time to ooh and aah at Fawn Lake

This lake really is a jewel. At the far end of the lake, rose the scenic and craggy twin peaks of aptly named Lakeview Mountain and generically named Peak 6892. To the left, was cliffy Redtop Mountain. A soft breeze blew and sunlight sparkled on the on the rippled surface. Dragonflies and butterflies flitted to and fro, alighting occasionally on the shoreline vegetation. The cold water was amazingly clear and a myriad of water boatmen (a small aquatic bug) paddled their oars just underneath the lake's surface. Unbelievable that such a pretty lake could actually be named after devil deer spawn.

Peak 6892 and Lakeview Mountain

Speaking of pretty lakes, after lunch I resumed hiking along Fawn Lake's southern shore with the intent of hiking to nearby Pretty Lake and then returning on the steep, but downhill, Pretty Lake Trail back to the Fawn Lake Trail. Hiking was slow along Fawn Lake because each new bend in the trail provided yet another different look at the lake and each time, I just had to bushwhack down to the lake for a look-see.

Clouds form as the storm arrives

The far end of Fawn Lake was particular scenic, providing a closer look at Lakeview Mountain. Fawn Lake was visible in its entirety, and puffy white clouds formed in a blue sky above the lake. Much photography ensued.

The day went dark in about 15 minutes 

Boom! A loud clap of thunder got my immediate attention. Seems those puffy white clouds were the precursors to thunderheads that were blowing in from behind me while I had been distracted by Fawn Lake. It took like only 10 minutes for the day to switch from hot and sunny, to hot and stormy. The rumbling of thunder was now a constant and it was like hiking in the bowling alley of the gods. I'm not sure who Prudence is but prudence dictated I seek lower elevation immediately. Since Pretty Lake was higher in elevation than Fawn Lake, rather than loop it back on the Pretty Lake Trail, it was back the way I came on the Fawn Lake Trail. There's no real upside, that I can think of, to getting pretty electrocuted at Pretty Lake.

Trail, through the lodgepole forest

Lodgepole forest is not particularly scenic. Lodgepole trees tend to grow in poor soils where no other tree will grow, so a lodgepole forest will invariably consist of trees that are thin, scrawny, and spindly. Because of the poor soil, there generally is not a lot of undergrowth. I didn't take a lot of pictures of the forest because there really isn't much to take pictures of in a lodgepole forest. Plus. coming up the trail I had mostly focused on trudging uphill while sweat, sunscreen, and Deet dripped onto my stinging eyes as I cursed mosquitoes. But on the easier hike downhill, I discovered there really was a lot to see.

A healthy clump of pinesap

The heterotrophic plant community was having a heyday, emerging from the pumice soils in abundance. Pinesap was everywhere, sprouting in dense clumps while less common pinedrops were scattered here and there in comparatively more stately and elegant stalks. Much rarer were the seldom-seen gnome plant and I was fortunate to find a couple of clumps flowering pretty much upon emergence from below. In all my years of hiking, I had never seen gnome plants and now this was the second summer in a row I've run into these little oddities.

Help meeeeee.....!

"What is a heterotroph?" you ask? Well, maybe you didn't ask, but I'll tell you anyway. Heterotrophs are plants that lack chlorophyll and hence, are unable to make food from sunlight. Therefore, they must obtain nutrients by parasitizing upon nearby tree roots, probably lodgepole trees in this case. Anyway, I spent a lot of time at ground level, taking pictures of pinesap, pinedrops, gnome plants, and candystick. On one candystick, a crab spider had ambushed a bee and I got a cool picture of the insectile murder. The bee didn't think it was all that cool, though.

Mammatus clouds

Boom! Dang thunder interrupted my photo shoot! The rumbling was getting louder and louder so I walked pretty fast down through the forest. Fairly often, I'd stop to take a photo of something and the electricity gods let me know their displeasure by startling me with a loud clap of thunder. But at least they weren't hurling thunderbolts...yet. At the parking lot, the cloud formations were truly spectacular.

The lighting and clouds were on the eery side

Mammatus clouds are, according to Wikipedia, "sagging pouch structures" on a cloud. Basically, mammatus clouds are the soft dark sagging underbelly pouch-structure of a thunderhead cloud. My thought, on seeing these clouds, were that they were less sagging pouch structures (I have a few of those too, by the way) and more like celestial bubble wrap. That would explain how thunder gets made, too: Thunder is merely the sound of gods popping bubble wrap.

A stalk of pinedrops gets ready to flower

At any rate, this was a nice little hike in spite of the deer-based name. For more pictures of this hike, please visit the Flickr album.

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Oldenberg Lake

Oh happy day! The scale used to scream "225 POUNDS!!!" at me but there it was, the magic number of 209, my short-term goal of less than 210 pounds accomplished. So I give myself a self-congratulatory pat on the back and posted a picture of the scale reading on Facebook for all the world to see. In response, Dale tells me "Gee, Richard, my fully loaded backpack and I combined together don't even weigh 209 pounds" So I pushed him over the cliff. Just kidding, of course, I just consoled myself by realizing that if the tables were turned, I would have come up with a wittier insult and THEN I'd I push him over the cliff.

Dale on the trail

Fortunately for Dale, there were no cliffs on the Oldenberg Lake trail as the path gained only a meager 650 feet in the 5 miles to the lake. At any rate, the insults and banter flew fast and furious as we hiked on the trail, located just south of Crescent Lake. The air was slightly hazy with wildfire smoke but that was OK as this was not a view hike. The trail basically followed the base of a ridge extending from Cowhorn Mountain to Summit Lake. The Pacific Crest Trail (PCT) runs on top of that ridge but the Oldenberg Lake Trail is a popular alternate route for the the through-hikers as water is much more readily available on the Oldenberg Lake Trail than on the PCT.

Trailside wet spot, suitable for pooping

It didn't take long for us to run into our first PCT hiker, a bearded gentleman resting on the trail next to two packs. As he told us this area is beautiful, a woman came down the trail, sporting a roll of toilet paper, a small trowel, and a sheepish smile. Without missing a beat, the fellow said "...was it beautiful too where you pooped?" She shot him a look that married men the world over would recognize and since Dale and I are both married men, we hurriedly departed.

Pinewan Lake

There really wasn't much to see between the lakes, just miles and miles of spindly little trees and a dusty trail. We did pass a small, muddy, and oft visited wet spot that was overly dignified with the name Pinewan Lake. Chatting with all the through hikers we kept running into was far more entertaining than the lodgepole trees and Pinewan Lake.

One of the Bingham Lakes

At the 3.5 mile mark we hit the first and most accessible Bingham Lake, the Bingham Lakes being a collection of either 3 or 4 lakes, depending on which map one uses. A small cone (Peak 7021) was visible beyond the lake and the tip of Cowhorn Mountain peeked over the peak. A sandy beach along the lake provided the first of several lollygags and this lake was filed away as a future backpack trip with grandchildren.

Stealthily, Dale stalks the wild photographer

Just past the upper Bingham Lake lies Bingham Meadow, an erstwhile pond that was totally dry this late in this dry year. The grasses in the meadow were going yellow in yet another sign the summer is getting ready to depart. It's been a hot and smoky summer but I'm not ready for the season to end just yet.

Temptation in the form of a trail sign

On the approach to Oldenberg Lake, we crossed the trail heading towards Lakes Suzanne, Darlene, and the plural Windy Lakes, all filed away as a future weekend backpack trip. So many lakes and, given the right time of  year, so way too many mosquitoes. But on this late summer day, there no mosquitoes to torment us.

Oldenburg Lake

Next up was our turnaround point: Oldenberg Lake (or Oldenburg, depending on which map gets used). At the south end of the lake, there were several unmanned tents and we tiptoed around them and ate lunch in some beachside huckleberry bushes. The lake lapped lazily upon the shore and we lapped equally lazily at our respective snacks and/or meals. Past the lake rose the symmetrical cone of Odell Butte with its lookout affixed to the top like a party hat on a drunken conventioneer.

Lodgepole forest

So back through the lodgepole we went after our lake visit, heading back to the car. We were sort of on autopilot, each of us alone in our heads when we passed Pinewan Lake. Just a relative hiking hop away from the trailhead, a brief moment of disconcertment occurred. As we approached a dry creek, the gulley lush with green vegetation, Dale just had to ask "Did we come this way?" To be frank, the terrain looked sort of alien and I was pissed at myself for getting lost so close to the end. Well, we were just being stupid as shortly thereafter, we found our trail junction and just like magic, my car. Turned out we had always been on the right trail and not lost at all, and I do use "lost" in the map sense of the word.

A skinnier silly person

As we were driving away from the trailhead, we gave a ride to two through hikers, a pair of women with the trail names "Hustler" and "In Just A Minute". We accrued valuable hiking karma points by taking them to Whitefish Campground where they resumed their impressive journey. I figure I can accrue enough karma points to withstand the considerable demerits charged when I push Dale over the edge at some future snarky remark.

X marks the spot

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

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