McCloud River Trail

After a stormy night camping at Siskiyou Lake, the Friends of the Umpqua Hiking Club shook off the raindrops, piled into cars, and drove over to the McCloud River. The destination was chosen because the waiter in last night's restaurant said it was pretty cool. So off we go on this well-researched and meticulously planned hike.

But the guy in the restaurant said...

The lower falls

As we arrived at the trailhead, the cloud cover broke up and it looked like we were going to get a cool and sunny day for hiking. The lower McCloud falls poured off a ledge right below the parking lot. And from the parking lot we descended some stairs, prompting a Webshots fan (yes, I have fans)  to comment "Stairs and handrails! What kind of hike is this?"

The middle falls on
the McCloud River

From there the path followed the river and a short half-mile away the middle falls came into view. Clearly, the middle falls were the best on the day, being wide and tall (just like me) under a cloudy sky. Yes, the sun had disappeared and we would find the weather to waffle and tergiversate (thanks, Thesarus!) as much as an undecided voter in an election year.

Above the middle falls 

There was no tergiversating by the trail though, as it headed decisively to the canyon rim in a series of switchbacks capped off by another set of stairs with handrails. The view from the top down to the middle falls were impressive even though another rail kept hikers from going over the edge. Leave it to California to take all the luster off of a cliffy trail, but I guess there are people in California in sufficient numbers that need protecting from themselves.

Staying high above the river, the trail left the campgrounds and city-slickers behind and behaved more like a real trail. After a three-quarter mile or so walk, the upper falls spewed forth from a rocky notch into what is probably a blue-watered bowl (like a sanitized toilet) in broad daylight.

The upper falls

The trail followed the McCloud River

Above the falls, the McCloud River funneled into a narrow and rocky chute before taking the plunge. The rocky walls of the chute were pockmarked with large bowls carved out by the river in testimony to the power of water.

Now that we got all that waterfall stuff out of the way, the river became more tranquil, pooling scenically while lush vegetation bordered the river. At Lakin Dam, the river became even more tranquil at the backwater behind the dam, reflecting the clouds, sun, and sky. I took a series of photographs here as the weather changed like every thirty seconds or so. 

Lakin Dam

That amorphous red blob is my wife

Continuing on, the river disappeared into the expansive willow thicket that is known as Bigelow Meadow. The weather turned as the skies darkened while a serious rain poured down on us. It felt like the rain would be semi-permanent so Dollie and I dug out raingear from our packs. After a few minutes of this, it was deemed that heading back to the car would be more fun, so back the way we came.

Ox-eye daisy

And of course, a few minutes later the sun came out in a relatively cloudless sky; the sight of Dollie walking in the sun while clad in a poncho was amusing. The sun stayed out for the rest of the hike and it became obvious that California is a land of fair-weather hikers as we encountered mobs of hikers, fishermen, and swimmers on our way back. The parking lot at the trailhead was full and we could have made money by raffling our parking spot before we left. Not your wilderness hike, no tergiversating about it.

Richard Hikes

Castle Dome

Welcome to sunny California!

Castle Crags State Park is closed! I know California has its money problems but it almost seems criminal to shut down this venerable park with its magnificent crags. However, the park remains accessible to intrepid hikers so the Friends of the Umpqua Hiking Club organized a campout in a rare foray to sunny California.

Well, the only problem with sunny California was that we brought our Oregon weather with us, the skies were dark and moody with rain imminent. Setting out on the Pacific Crest Trail, we immediately began heading uphill, gaining the first of nearly 2,600 feet of elevation gain in a wooded forest with very little ground cover.

Prince's pine

My namesake trail

Shortly after an intersection with the signed Kettlebelly Trail, Dollie began snickering and calling me "Mr. Kettlebelly". There weren't a lot of wildflowers but there were several clumps of Cascade lily and tiger lily growing alongside the trail. The saprophytes (plants lacking chlorophyll) were represented by the alabaster white phantom orchid and pink wintergreen. And, of course, there was a healthy poison oak population growing underneath all the trees.

Direct quote:  "This is awful!"

Arriving huffing and puffing at the intersection with the Castle Dome trail, we were dismayed to discover all the uphill climbing so far was a mere preamble to the "real" climbing as the Castle Dome Trail cranked up the steepness. I tucked in behind Dollie and we continued the hike at wife-speed as she muttered "This is awful!"

On the goat path

I did my part, telling her we were almost there but after three miles of me telling her we were almost there, she didn't believe me any more. Eventually, the forest thinned out, the earthen tread became a rocky goat path, and we were walking around and through a granite wonderland of crags, towers, pinnacles, and minarets. Coming from lava-based geology as we do, this was quite exotic stuff and we reveled in the scenery.

Castle Dome

Gaining altitude relentlessly, the forest thinned out and we entered an alpine scrubland consisting of low-growing manzanita and oak with a crest of rocky pinnacles rising above us.  The views opened up and were impressive despite the overcast sky. Castle Dome, our intended destination was relatively close and a short push brought us to a saddle at its base.

Castle Crags rock!

It is possible to climb Castle Dome but a wall of black clouds was heading our way and this is not the summit scramble to do in bad weather. So Ray and I left tired wives at the saddle and continued exploring the crags above for a bit. We were on a ridge crest and steep and precipitous valleys dropped at our feet while the crags kept going on and on in a seemingly infinite procession.

Feels like Oregon!

On the way down, the wind began to absolutely howl and the heavens opened up, delivering on the threatened rain. It was a soggy return to the trailhead where we removed sodden raingear, heading back to our Siskiyou Lake camp for the remainder of our wet weekend.

Richard Hikes