Siltcoos Lake

It's a mad, mad, mad world out there, full of yelling, shouting, fist shaking, spittle-spitting, and all-caps rage tweets, and that's just my family! The rest of the screaming part of the world is about as warm and fuzzy as a cave full of buzzing rattlesnakes too. Hiking has always been an escape from that particular riled-up fire ant nest of venom and vitriol but this year, it's been pretty hard to hike. The mountains have been basically off limits because of numerous forest fires and besides which, health problems have slowed me up a bit. Even the reliable coast has been hiker-unfriendly, with valleys and coast cuddling under a blanket of air foul, smoky, and acrid. But on the Siltcoos Lake Trail on a blessedly clear day, it was a joyful healing time spent in "peace like a forest".

Peace like a forest

This particular hike was a Friends of the Umpqua Hiking Club operation and about 10 like-minded friends set foot on the Siltcoos Lake Trail on a pleasant Saturday mid-morning. Almost immediately, you could hear a collective sigh of relief and grateful appreciation from all participants. The path headed uphill through a dense forest mostly comprised of tall conifers. At ground level, it was luxuriously cool and shady, and leaves in the rampant vegetation bobbed gently up and down with the slightest provocation of the slightest stirring of air. Small birds were mostly heard as they twittered and flittered through the nearly impenetrable greenery and we all hummed "Kumbaya" in accompaniment.

Fairybell fruits were a common sight

This time of year lies in that amorphous seasonal netherworld lurking between late summer and early autumn (summumn?). Didn't see any colored leaves but fairybell plants were sporting bright orange fruits that caught the attention of hikers and cameras alike. I don't think the fruits are toxic but they are probably tasteless and/or unpalatable as my ex-wife's cooking so I just left them where they dangled, especially since I wasn't sure if they were indeed toxic. Tastier and definitely not toxic, were vibrant red thimbleberries and yes I did indulge.

Conks endeavor to recycle a dead tree

Our little world under the forest canopy was dark green (it was deeply shaded, after all) and it stood to reason that the perpetually decaying biomass on the forest floor would support a healthy population of mushrooms and other fungi. Seemingly, every color, size, shape, and type were represented, ranging from diminutive parasols sprouting in a bed of moss to tough tinder fungus reposing in pine needle duff to woody conks staking their claim on dead tree trunks. Internally I labeled all the fungal denizens as "poisonous" and thereby resisted the temptation to partake thereof. I'm no mushroom expert so it's just safer that way.

Just a beautiful trail all day long

With so many things to photograph, it wasn't long before I assumed my customary place at the rear of the hiking queue. And before long, I found myself hiking all alone in the woods. A moment of consternation came when the trail intersected the loop portion of the hike. Do I go north or south? Which way did everybody else go? Not having the answers to those questions, I recalled from my last hike here that hiking out on the south trail was really steep and taxing so I opted to go down the south trail this time out. Good move!

C'mon sun, dispel those dark clouds!

Enjoying the downhill hiking, I soon caught up to Ceresse and the two of us hiked in easy companionship at our usual turtle'ish speed. When we arrived at the southern backpacking campsites next to the lake, our comrades had already eaten their lunch and were wrapping up dessert. As our friends impatiently waited, held hostage by Ceresse and I leisurely eating our lunch, we all enjoyed a nice view of Siltcoos Lake from the campsite. Although, the sky was covered up by a layer of ominously dark clouds. It wasn't going to rain, was it?

Gnome plant, macro version

Near the campsite were a couple of saprophytic plants, not to be confused with mushrooms or fungi. A small patch of pink fleshy-colored gnome plants and pale white vampiric-looking Indian pipe vied for ownership of the same fertile patch of earth. Since we spotted both sets of specimens growing next to the trail, we'll call it a draw. Saprophytic plants lack chlorophyll to make nutrients from sunlight, so they partner with certain fungi to parasitize on certain plants, like salal. Professor O'Neill expounded on these amazing plant specimens while his captive pupils fidgeted restlessly, hoping the bell would ring soon.  

It sure looked like it might rain

After lunch, we made the short walk over to the northern set of backpacking campsites. I really must come and spend a weekend here, the hike would be short but those relatively luxurious campsites are an attraction in and of themselves. The north campsites provide better access (and views) to Siltcoos Lake and we stopped for a moment to gawk once again at the lakeside scenery. The clouds had gotten darker and despite an optimistic weather forecast, the foreboding dark cloud cover made us wonder once again if rain was indeed in the offing. 

Logging scar from yesteryear

The hike out on the northern loop trail was not bad at all, the grade was gentle and easy on the quads, unlike its southern loop sibling. The sun came out and dispersed most of the clouds and some sunlight filtered down to trail level. The mottled light in the forest was entrancing and we could only imagine what it had been like before the original old growth forest had been logged back in the day. Massive stumps from the former forest still bore the scars of the cuts where buckboards had been inserted to support a burly lumberjack on either end.  

Everybody should hike like a slug!

It's a shame this hike is so short because its tranquil forest vibe left us replenished and sated, but yet wanting more of the same. I'd gladly trade in uncivilization for the forest and spend the remainder of my days there, but then I'd have to give up watching concerts and soccer games. Besides which, the deer would eventually get me.

Hedge nettle, up close and personal

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

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Siltcoos Lake

I had hiked to Siltcoos Lake many years ago and at the time, I was somewhat underwhelmed by the hike. It was not very mileage worthy, lasting only 4'ish miles or so of meager distance, and was basically just a short walk through viewless forest until the lake was reached. At the lake, the views thereof were partial and I just wondered what the point was. So why go again, if that's how I felt? Well, I was looking for a relatively easy backpack trip to take grandchildren on and it seemed like a short hike and a lake to frolic in could be a winning combination as seen through children's eyes, so off I went on a scouting foray to Siltcoos Lake.

It's definitely trillium time!

It didn't take long for me to completely revise my former opinion about this trail. Yes, the hike is short and yes, the forest is viewless, but what a gorgeous forest it was! Maybe you just have to hike it at the right time of year, which in my opinion and based on this latest hike rendition, just might be late April. Or maybe you just have to hike it in the right frame of mind, which is also a strong possibility of why I enjoyed this one so. The forest was lush and green, the mottled forest light was simply sublime, and armies of elegant trillium were blooming in regal tri-petaled stateliness on the forest floor. What's not to like about this hike? 

Short but gorgeously sweet

The first part of the hike was a pretty good uphill pull that only lasted a mile or so until it reached a trail junction with the unimaginatively but directionally named North Route and South Route. For no particular reason at all, I went left on the North Route, which turned out to be a gentle meander through sumptuously shaded woods as the footpath gradually descended down to the lake.

Huckleberry bushes work on making berries

I had slathered on sunscreen like I normally do but really, it wasn't needed on this hike. I was hiking in deep shade most of the time while sunbeams illuminated the odd spot of trail here and there. The forest was eminently colored green what with dense patches of fern and salal flanking the trail. Where there was no fern or salal, there were soft cushiony layers of emerald-green moss carpeting the forest floor. I daresay you could almost hear the forest gnomes (excluding this blogger) laugh with glee as they capered and frolicked among the trees. 

Eager youngsters gather around Grandpa

The forest had been logged in the past and most of the trees were thin and spindly in testament to their relative youth. However, interspersed between the matchstick trees were some old-growth giants, clearly illustrating the difference between young and old trees. Stumps from the forest of yore supported a small population of seedlings being nourished by decaying nurse logs and stumps. And speaking of old-growth specimens, I continued onward with my hike.

There's no place like home!

After a couple of miles of pleasant forest hiking, the trail arrived at several backpacking camps sited next to the lake. The camping grounds were rather luxurious digs when compared to my usual austere and unfurnished backpacking tenting spots, for each site sported a fire ring and picnic table. And always, there were trees surrounding each camp, making my hammock-camping heart beat just a tick faster with anticipatory happiness.

Siltcoos Lake on a fine spring day

Siltcoos Lake is actually a pretty substantial body of water but you can't see the lake in its entirety from the camps' view. Much of the would-be lake view is blocked by a large forested island just across the water that makes the lake seem smaller than it actually is. A network of braiding paths led from the camps to several beaches along the lake and I just know my younger peeps would be spending most of their time there. I spent a little time there myself, soaking up the warm spring sun and listening to birds twitter in the dense brush ringing the lake. 

Still life with boardwalk and skunk cabbage

After a nice little lakeside loll, it was back to the trail, but on the South Route this time. The gentle descent to the lake on the incoming leg translated to a brisk uphill climb on the return leg, as the well-maintained path went up and over a forested ridge. It was more of the same as what I saw on the North Route, with ferns, salal, trees, moss, mushrooms, decaying logs, and hordes of elegant trillium flowers flanking the trail throughout.

Small beetles ate holes in thimbleberry leaves

So, this wasn't the most challenging hike I've ever done, coming in at 4.5 miles or so, but it was nonetheless worthy due to the sublime forest beauty encountered on this hike. It'd be an easy and relaxing (unless the grandchildren come) weekend backpack trip too, so I won't get too snooty about the Siltcoos Lake Trail like I did so many years ago.

A fern frond basks in a sunbeam

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

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Siltcoos Trails

This hike was destined to be short. The Siltcoos Trails aren't very long in the first place but I could have certainly added some more miles by hiking further along the beach. However, heavy rain was in the forecast and high winds were expected to arrive around 4 o'clock in the afternoon. Lucky Luna, though, she got to come along on this 4 mile exploration of the Siltcoos Recreation Area that was more photo shoot than hike. My arm can only take so much mindless leash pulling too, so there's one more reason for the shortness of the hike.

A bench with a view

There are three not-very-long trails in the Siltcoos River vicinity: Lagoon Trail, Chief Tsiltcoos Trail, and the Waxmyrtle Trail. All of them meet in the middle, so to speak, the middle in this case being the Stagecoach Trailhead. Item number one on the diminutive hiking itinerary was the Lagoon Trail, a pretty little loop path that showcases man's insensitivity to the environment.

The still waters of Siltcoos Lagoon

The Siltcoos River runs from nearby Siltcoos Lake to the ocean and it used to snake back and forth in a pronounced oxbow bend. I say "used to", because in the 1930's, the road leading to the campgrounds and beaches was laid right across the neck of the oxbow, effectively cutting it off from the river. So nowadays, the river runs straight, paralleling the road, while the tepid lagoon pools with standing rainwater. In yet another fine exhibit of our proclivity to mess with the environment, an invasive reed known as parrotfeather is taking over the swampy lagoon and over time, the lagoon will dry up and become a meadow, which will, in turn, eventually be swallowed up by the coastal forest.

Typical trail scene on the Tsiltcoos Trail

But for now, the lagoon is not without its attractions. A series of boardwalks ambled next to the black waters of the picturesque lagoon and I took a series of photographs of the glassy surface, before I let Luna frolic in the still water. Upon her frenzied entrance into the lagoon, the surface was glassy no more, The short loop followed the lagoon's edge and several benches allowed hikers to sit and contemplate a fetid swamp, if they so desired.

Translucence

Next up was the Chief Tsiltcoos Trail, which was basically a walk through a coastal forest. The trail did provide a brief uphill section, though, imparting a mild burn to lazy leg muscles. Much photography ensued, mostly of sunlight slanting through the trees, mushrooms sprouting everywhere, and all the ferns, moss, lichen, and salal you could ever want to point a camera lens at. Much berry grazing also ensued, as the coastal huckleberry bushes were amply adorned with juicy black berries.

Behold the mighty Siltcoos!

So, two loops down, one to go. Well, to be technical, the Waxmyrtle Trail is not a loop but an out-and-back venture, running from Stagecoach Trailhead to the beach south of the Siltcoos River. After crossing on a roadway bridge, Luna and I grabbed the dirt path on the opposite side of the river. The trail was right on the edge of the river and when I say "right on the edge", I mean right on the edge. If the river level was to rise a foot or so, then it certainly would be a wet hike to the beach, making a certain water-addicted dog very happy. If you are not sure which dog I am referring to, her initials are Luna.

The Siltcoos journey ends here

After a short walk, the path peeled away from the river and headed uphill on a mossy set of stairs. Now sticking to the bluffs above the river, the route continued to amble through a lush coastal forest. Periodic breaks in the vegetation provided openings from which to gape at the Siltcoos River below. If there weren't openings in the tree cover, not to worry, there were plenty of use trails leading to plenty of viewpoints. The river wandered through a grassy delta in several sweeping oxbow curves before becoming one with the now-visible ocean.

Clouds were blowing in

The trail quickly morphed from a forested trail to a sandy track running through the marshes behind the foredunes. More quality splashing time for Luna and more quality camera time for me. We each do enjoy hiking in our own different way. A quick and sandy up-and-over the foredunes brought us to the beach where Luna was demonstrably overjoyed to become unleashed. She probably ran 10 miles within two minutes as she splashed in the waves and scattered seagulls, all the activity accompanied by exuberant yips of doggie delirium.

Luna hikes into wind-driven grains of sand

Off shore, there were clouds hovering over the ocean but it seemed the forecasted storm had not yet arrived. However, the high wind advisory was warranted as the wind was blowing, by my guess, close to 40 miles per hour. I considered walking north on the beach but the idea of leaning into the wind and high velocity sand grains for a mile or so on the way back wasn't very appealing so the hike was done at this point.

Yum!

Fortunately, the high winds were just that: high winds, in that they were blowing high above in the treetops while leaving us ground-dwellers alone and unmolested. Well, unmolested unless I lay down to take a photo of a mushroom, then a dog licked my ear whenever that opportunity presented itself. On the drive home, a brisk rainstorm overtook us; it certainly was nice to avoid all that on this short hike on the Oregon coast.

My hiking companion

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

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