Lost Creek Lake 3/2019

Years from now, old-timers will refer to late February 2019 as "The Snowpocalypse" or as I refer to it in a losing cause, "Snowmageddon". The rest of the world probably refers to it as "Meh" or "I have no idea what you are talking about". You just had to have been here when two feet of snow fell on Roseburg over a day or two. Now two feet may not seem like much but this was a wet snow and weighed more than the usual powdery fluff. The trees couldn't handle it, and entire trees and/or branches fell over and/or snapped off, landing on cars, homes, and power lines. As a result, we were without power (and heat) for four days and we were the lucky ones: my daughter was out for eleven days and a hiking buddy of mine was out for thirty-one days! I sat on my deck, clad in like seven layers of parka, and listened to the trees fall, at least one every thirty seconds or so. Needless to say, not much hiking was accomplished during this Snowtastrophe, although the dog thought this was the coolest week of her life, she likes snow so much. The cat meanwhile, thought it had died and gone to hell which contrary to popular belief, has icicles in it. Me, I'm with the cat on this one.

Lost Creek Lake and what Snowpocalypse?

Given the backdrop of  the Snowsaster, you can imagine my joy when the sun came out and melted the snow off the roads so as to make them driveable again. Time to go hiking and make a happy reacquaintance with normalcy. Perennial favorite Lost Creek Lake was the chosen destination because the Snowtaclysm was, amazingly enough, pretty much a Douglas County-only experience, meaning Medford was spared from experiencing similar misery. In the context of hiking, it also meant their trails weren't covered in fallen trees like ours were.

The trail curves through a stand of oaks

On a gloriously sunny day, dog buddy Luna and I set out on the Rogue River Trail, not to be mistaken with the Rogue River Trail. Confused? That's what happens when two separate trails in the same geographical area have the same name. After a week of freezing temps both indoors and out, with dark clouds that made it seem like nighttime at high noon, I can't tell you how mindlessly happy we both were to be hiking in warm sunlight. Of course, Luna is mindlessly happy no matter the circumstance, she'd be happy in any event as long as it doesn't involve fireworks or vacuum cleaners. But for me, the sun was profound and warmed not only body parts but soul parts as well. It was way more than just mere sunlight.

The trail follows the shore of Lost Creek Lake

The first part of the hike was a pleasant ramble through woods comprised of spindly conifer, madrone, and oak trees. The oak trees were still leafless, although budding new growth could clearly be seen emerging on the ends of branches. Openings in the forest revealed Lost Creek Lake below the trail, the waters glowing blue-green under a cobalt blue sky. The surrounding mountains were all covered with a thin layer of snow, the sight of which triggered flashbacks and a severe facial tic. Take deep breaths and focus on the lake and sky, Richard.

A tangle of manzanita branches

The trail tunneled through dense stands of manzanita, their burgundy branches draped with hanging lichen barely swaying in the still air. The scene was quiet enough that I unleashed Luna, and the the two of us strode in easy companionship as the trail wended its way through the bare oaks.

Hey, look at me here, the dude with the camera!

The lake was calm, about as serene and tranquil as a pacifist practicing Zen after a good meal. Nary a ripple or wind zephyr dared to mar the mirror-like surface of the lake. The trail traversed a rocky bench with an amazing view of the lake: this little spot is one of my all-time favorite happy places in all of Oregon. A nearby bench allows hikers and silly dogs to sit and contemplate the lake at meditative length, and we indulged. On a not-so happy note, I lost several minutes of my life attempting to persuade Luna to pose for a photo. Frustratingly, that dog has the attention span of about one gazillionth of a Planck time unit and just will not look into the camera no matter how much I cajole or threaten. 

The waterfall at Blue Grotto

We left the lakeside trail and headed up Blue Gulch to see Blue Grotto. The grotto did not disappoint, its odd greenish-gray rocks photogenically contrasting with the deep blue sky above. Due to the recent rains (and snow!) Blue Gulch was in full song and the waterfall was carrying a healthy torrent over the ledge and into the grotto. We sat for a bit and ate lunch and doggy treats and I used the occasion to inspect Luna for ticks. To be clear, I ate the lunch, Luna ate the doggy treats, and the searching for ticks had nothing to do with lunch whatsoever. Luna didn't have any ticks on her, but then again we had put bug spray on her prior to the hike. 

One of a pack of box elder beetles

We continued alongside the lake for a couple more miles before making another contemplative lakeside picnic stop underneath  a shady copse of pine trees. The preternatural quietude of the lake was contrasted with the frenetic business of box elder beetles scurrying off the log we had just claimed for our own.

Luna is all like "Dude, why you walk so slow?"

On the way back, we ran into a pair of hikers out for a spring hike next to Lost Creek Lake. They were from nearby Medford and stated they were glad to get out in the sun after all the rain they had received. Rain? What a bunch of slackers! You just can't complain about rain when your next-county neighbors were busy experiencing a Snowrricane.

Silty creek at Blue Gulch

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

Luna enjoyed the weather disaster as only Luna can

Just for fun, here are some photos I took of our house during Snowlamity.

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Lost Creek Lake

In retrospect, it was kind of amazing we even made it to the trailhead, much less doing any hiking of note. It had been raining heavily all week so only 5 hikers (including me) decided to brave the elements and go hiking on the picturesque shores of Lost Creek Lake. But rain really wasn't the issue because that's what rain gear was invented for. So, while we were all prepared to get wet, none of us really expected snow!

Shut up kids and let me drive!

The shortest drive from Roseburg to Lost Creek Lake is on the curvy Tiller-Trail Highway and when the road gained elevation after leaving Tiller, snow began to fill the air. Then it began to stick on the highway, a fact not lost on driver Gary when the car made a surprise skid on the icy pavement. From that slippery point forward, it was us crawling along at 15 miles per hour before the road topped out and began descending into a land where airborne water existed in its more customary liquid state. A tip of the hat to Gary, our lives were in his hands and he was up to the task.

A few small puddles on the trail

The hills surrounding Lost Creek Lake were all dusted with snow but we were hiking just under snow level. We only had to contend with cold rain pelting us with fat drops of water as we set out on the trail. A flood warning was in effect and we had to step through a number of creeks flowing beneath the oaks and madrone trees where under normal conditions, there would exist no creeks at all.

Manzanita bloom

The lake supports a healthy population of water fowl and sure enough we observed some geese and ducks and they in turn observed a small and sad flock of wet hikers. The path ambled up and down with each up and down part serving as a temporary creek bed. It wasn't long before pants and boots were wet and muddy. On one hillside, a fountain of water was spurting from a gopher hole presumably long vacated by its gopher tenant. No doubt, some gopher landlord is being sued for damages, pain, and suffering.

Lost Creek Lake

After a short walk on a trail flanked by flowering manzanita bushes, the path followed the edge of the lake on a rocky shelf, treating us to a moody view of the lake underneath a dark gray sky. Wet clouds cloaked the surrounding mountains, reflecting somewhat on the lake's surface. In its own wet way, the day was absolutely spectacular and a certain camera who was mad at its owner for exposing it to the rain, was nonetheless quite busy taking pictures of the stormy scene.

Trail through the manzanitas

As we hiked, the rain did let up a bit and really, it wasn't anything a raincoat couldn't handle. After splashing along the trail for a couple of miles, we left the trail (formally known as the Rogue River Trail but not the same Rogue River Trail we love and hike so much) and took a side trip to Blue Grotto.

Blue Grotto

Blue Creek was flowing fast and muddy as we hiked along the creek. Blue Grotto is a scenic little bowl where Blue Creek drops over a rock bluff that on a sunny day, is actually an odd blue color not unlike the mold on a month-old English muffin. On this wet day however, the color was grayed out in keeping with the portentous clouds of gloom overhead. No complaining though, because the copious amount of rain made sure to keep the creek flowing fast and strong and the waterfall was absolutely stunning. I've been here before and the creek usually just barely trickles over the drop. So, there was a plus side to hiking on this day after all!

Drip, drip, drip....

We returned to the lake and ate lunch on a forested bench overlooking the large body of water. Naturally, the rain started up again when we sat down so we quickly returned to the trail to hike back to the car. On the way back, we encountered kindred spirits and their canine friends on the trail, all out for a hike in the rain. We understood because hiking in the rain is fun, better than spending the day at home watching TV. Although, we did concede to the bad weather somewhat when we returned to Roseburg by way of snow-free I-5.

Why we hike in the rain

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

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Lost Creek Lake

Well, we've pretty much gone right from summer into winter, haven't we? Even the vine maples are confused, keeping their green leaves on as they tremble in the chill. The current winter weather culprit was Typhoon Pabuk which decided to travel across the Pacific Ocean to die in Oregon after grazing Japan. Its death throes wound up being a watery dump of 7 inches of rain on my hiking weekend with the rain being delivered via the medium of high winds. Whatever is a hiking addict to do? Why, go hiking of course! 

Cloud reflection

Originally, the weekend predictions had called for sunny weather so my backpack was loaded and a weekend trip in the Diamond Peak Wilderness was penciled in. Mid-week snow took care of that so a campout at nearby Odell Lake replaced the backpack trip. But then the typhoon with its high winds was prognosticated and since I am allergic to trees and tree parts falling on my head, no more campout for me.  The coast is always a safe destination in September except the coast was going to catch the brunt of Typhoon Pabuk's final act. I might have to stay home with Mrs. O'Neill and watch Twilight movies if this keeps up. Fortunately, the last bastion of weather common sense lay in Medford as the storm would not really hit that area until Saturday evening, thereby offering a window of opportunity to sneak a hike in.

Itchy and beautiful, just like me!

Starting out at the Lewis Road Trailhead on the north side of Lost Creek Lake, it was obvious the poison oak had figured out it was autumn. The leaves of the accursed itch-spawner ran the full gamut of the autumn rainbow with colorful displays of yellow, gold, orange, russet, red, and every other shade in between. I felt compelled to take pictures while feeling itchy just by virtue of getting that close. My poor camera was given a bath upon arrival at home. After apologizing to my faithful camera, I bought it flowers to atone for the mistreatment.

Lost Creek Lake, drawn down low

The trail (the Rogue River Trail, formally) undulated up and down the man-made lake's shore through thick stands of manzanita with their distinct dark red trunks. Intermittent views of the lake and Joseph Stewart State Park on the opposite bank were enjoyed. On my last hike here several Aprils ago, the lake was full with water lapping virtually at the trail's edge. Now, in late September, the water was about half a mile away through brush, grass, and poison oak. During the long and dry summer, the lake had obviously been drawn down by all those thirsty souls in Medford, good thing not all of them bathe!

Fire Glen Camp, sans Bubbas and beer

About a mile into the hike, the trail ran through the middle of peaceful and idyllic Fire Glen Camp. The camp is primarily designed for boaters if one is to draw conclusions from the outhouse station floating just offshore. However, the car campers have cheated and have created a rough track that ends near the camp, but they still have to walk in their beer cases and ice chests. But in late September with a typhoon about to visit, there were no campers there at all.

This is why we hike

Leaving the camp, the trail rounds a peninsula and commences my favorite part of the whole hike. The trail stays above the lake, contouring around on a rocky bench that provides a magnificent view of the lake towards the dam.  Storm clouds reflected off the blue-green waters of the lake and a man-made bench on the geologic bench just demands a contemplative sit-down and I gratefully obliged.

Old man's beard

If you like manzanita then you will love this hike as it tunnels through dense patches of the unique shrub with its smooth, twisted, and dark red limbs.  Old man's beard (not a true beard, it's actually a lichen) hanging off the branches swayed in a slight breeze with the beards being just a smidge longer than my ex-wife's. Periodic winds had knocked pine needles into the manzanita, where they straddled small limbs, the needles somewhat resembling a toddler straddling a saw horse.

Engineering marvel

The lake has more arms than cojoined octopus quints and numerous gulches, gullies, and dry creek beds crossed the trail. However, marvelously constructed bridges spanned all of these crossings where I could only shake my head, remembering how the gullies had been all full of water the last time I was here.

Spiky mushrooms

At nearly 5 miles, a solitary lunch was enjoyed while a few squirrels scampered up and down the oak trees in a savannah. The squirrels and a small knot of geese were the only animals I'd see all day in yet another sign winter is near.

Rain arrives

While cloudy, the skies had not yet delivered any of the forecasted rain and winds but it was just a matter of time. Sure enough, it began to shower off and on with me three miles from the trailhead. Mildly annoying, but the rain gear stayed inside the pack as the exertion from hiking was sufficient enough to stave off hypothermia. The main thing was there was little or no wind which meant no worries about tree parts falling on my head.

Kindred spirits

The views improved on the way back with dramatic cloud fronts hovering over the lake. Fishermen are an intrepid bunch and I exchanged friendly waves with several, sharing a common kinship as we enjoyed the outdoors in threatening weather.

I felt a kinship with this wet leaf

So, all in all, the weather let me off the hook considering southern Oregon was going to get slammed this weekend. However, I did catch it on the way home with powerful gusts of wind pushing my poor little Kia around. Needless to say, there was no hiking on Sunday and I had to stay home with Mrs. O'Neill, although I did manage to evade watching Twilight movies.

Trail through the oaks

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

Lost Creek Lake

I've always been fascinated by the Dog Whisperer: he flips a hand signal, makes a shushy sound, and the miscreant canine magically obeys. But then there are my dogs, totally impervious to any of my hand signals and shushing sounds which invariably evolve to out and out red-faced shouting. Per the Whisperer, all dog problems can be solved by walking. And that is how lucky Maggie got to go hiking with her incredibly handsome master at Lost Creek Lake, near Medford.

Red bell

Grass widow

It was a beautiful spring day at the lake, the temperature was not too warm and a slight overcast kept things cool, it was perfect hiking weather. Spring was in full song in the low Cascades and the wildflowers kept my camera clicking.  The usual early season culprits were to blame: shooting stars, buttercups, oak toothworts, and acres of nodding fawn lilies. Less common but more noteworthy were the bright red bells and the elegant grass widow.

Manzanita

The trail (called the Rogue River Trail) basically follows the lake's shoreline and is mostly level. The usual Siskiyou mix of cedar, ponderosa pine, manzanita, oak, and madrone grew on the dry slopes on the north side of the lake. And always, views of the lake were there to be enjoyed.

A female horned grebe

Her mate goes for a dive

I had hiked this trail many years ago in the middle of summer. I wasn't impressed at the time because the lake was busy with noisy motorboats towing waterskiers and screaming tubers; the lake's surface was crisscrossed with the wakes of all the boats...it wasn't a wilderness hike at all. However, on this day, apart from the occasional fishermen, the lake was devoid of boats and the surface of the lake was glassy as a defeated boxer's eyes. Much picture taking ensued, as a result.

Hate in its evil goose heart

The innocents

Evil triumphs over good

A brief moment of hilarity ensued when we observed a pair of Canada geese peacefully and innocently floating on the lake. Several hundred yards away, a lone and embittered goose was eyeing them and the body posture screamed pure and unabashed hatred. The bad goose took flight and chased the two good geese away with much hissing, honking, and spitting. "Does not share lakes well with others" will be noted on his personnel file.

Rounding a point, the trail climbed out on a rocky bench with a manmade bench on it, near Blue Gulch. The panorama of the lake just begged for a contemplative sitdown on the bench and Maggie and I obliged. Blue Gulch was aptly named, for the waters were a stunning turquoise color; a warning posted on the sturdy bridge spanning the gulch hinted the blue tint might be attributable to the toxic blue-green alga, taking the romance out of the Blue Gulch experience.

The Grotto

This lake has more arms than a mutant octopus and the next arm was where we left the lake briefly, heading up a steep trail to The Grotto. The rocks here were a strange blue-gray color, reminding me of mold which in turn reminded me I need to clean out the refrigerator when I got home. There were turrets and towers on the canyon rim and a small creek cascaded over the edge. All of this was very scenic and pretty and we sat down for an extended view soak.

There's a tick on my nose

So there I am, taking pictures of Maggie and I noticed a little black dot on her nose: a TICK! I plucked it off and then I saw another, and another, and another. Of course, she just sat there wagging her tail because her master was looking at her and by doing so, was validating her existence here on this planet. She was a little unclear on the concept, as they say. On the plus side of things, I did not have any ticks on me all day as the little buggers flocked to her.

Fawn lily

We continued on our hike while executing frequent tick stops, following the lake through some grassy meadows with primitive backpacking sites replete with picnic tables. I think the boating crowd does a lot of camping on this side of the lake. A pair of mountain bikers emerged from the woods setting off a round of hysterical dog barking. 

After this 10.3 mile hike, I had one tired dog. Normally hyperkinetic and constantly in motion, Maggie had an "old woman" walk for a couple of days. Of course, we had to spend the following week plucking ticks out of her but she was OK with that because it meant that the masters were, once again, validating her existence on this planet.