North Umpqua Trail (Hot Springs Segment)

 

Last year, the Friends of the Umpqua's outing on the North Umpqua Trail's Hot Springs Segment had been all about the autumn colors. It was Halloween weekend and the weather had been gloriously sunny, the sky inspiringly blue, and the forest brilliant with fall colors. I happily hiked as one with the elements, because I too am bright and flamboyantly colorful. However, this year's hike was the exact opposite. Three weeks of rain had knocked most of the leaves out of the trees, the temperature was on bordering on cold, and the overcast sky rudely dumped water on our heads. What a difference a year makes!

Colorless grubs and crawly things

Beginning from the trailhead at Toketee Lake, ten hikers warmed up with a pleasant up and down ramble through a dimly lit forest above the mostly unseen river. This section was all green with ferns, moss, Oregon grape, and a whole forest comprised primarily of Douglas fir. The dark forest seemed to be darker than usual though, thanks to a gloomy gray sky overhead and a general scarcity of sunlight. Underneath the trees, we scuttled in the low light like so many colorless grubs and crawly things slithering away from underneath a freshly overturned garden stone.

The Golden Path

After a bit, the trail dropped down to the North Umpqua River and commenced one of my favorite sections of trail. Here the path follows the river and in autumn, is blanketed with a thick layer of fallen leaves. Just follow the Golden Path, Richard, and you will be rich beyond your wildest dreams, the richness in this case pertaining to the glorious autumn vibe. When not ambling beneath maples and their fading leaves (mostly on the ground), the trail wound its way through a cathedral of tall firs flanking either side of the trail and I gaped in reverential awe like some humble pilgrim finally reaching his sanctified destination.

Trees (and maybe a hiker or two)
get buried by the leaves

As mentioned, the forest floor (and trail) were shag-carpeted with a thick layer of leaves. Already, the processes of decomposition and soil regeneration were well underway. Individual fronds of Oregon grape and ferns had snagged some of the fallen maple leaves which were now decomposing on the evergreen plants and shrubs. The contours of fallen trees of seasons past were barely visible underneath mountains of accumulated leaf litter. Mushrooms and fungi of various ilk and specie were taking advantage of the decaying biomass and just generally thrived all over.

The North Umpqua Trail gently
climbs up to Deer Creek

At just under the two-mile mark, the North Umpqua Trail egressed onto a forest road and the path then resumed on the other side of the river. The only uphill hiking commenced here, but fortunately it wasn't daunting at all, just a steady climb through a lush and tangled forest. Here, the North Umpqua Trail diverged from the North Umpqua River but Deer Creek happily took the river's trailside place and burbled merrily somewhere down there in the forest below. As I hiked through the bucolic scenery, the peace and quiet of the forest was suddenly interrupted by John hiking in my direction with an obvious limp. Uh-oh.

Final score: This little creek 1, Knees 0

Up ahead there is an unnamed creek that was just a trickle last year. This year, it was running vigorously and enterprising hikers had fashioned a primitive creek crossing made up of branches and rocks. One of these rocks broke in two when John stepped on it, causing him to have an unwanted sit-down in the creek. Also unwanted, was a knee bending the wrong way and John had to take his sprained joint back to the trailhead, one gimpy step at a time.

Deer Creek flows under the hiker's bridge

After making sure John was in reasonable enough shape to hike back without assistance, I continued on to Deer Creek, my turnaround point. Everybody else had continued on to Columnar Falls but because I had lagged behind, this hike had turned out to be more photo shoot than hike so Deer Creek was as far as I would get. At the stout metal and wood bridge spanning the stream, I took a moment or two just to simply appreciate the beauty of the creek approaching from upstream, well on its way to joining forces with the North Umpqua River. 

Natural leaf arrangement on a log

Shortly after turning around and heading back, the ominous gray clouds delivered on their threat to rain on us. The day darkened considerably and the pitter-patter of raindrops and the surround-sound hiss of millions of raindrops striking millions of fallen leaves were a soothing counterpoint to the rhythmic noise of my boots swishing through the leaf litter cloaking the path. Since I was now ahead of everybody else, I took my appreciative and thankful time as I walked, while valiantly trying my best to keep the camera dry.

New arrival

It was a short wait at the trailhead before everybody else began straggling in, all wet and bedraggled like my dogs get when I've forgotten to let them back in the house on a rainy day. The day was now dark and gloomy with that hint of cold that says winter is on its way, and all hikers, including me, were rain-soaked and sodden. Despite the discomfiture caused by the inclement weather, nonetheless I had happily hiked as one with the elements, for I too am gloomy, gray, and chill.

A family of mushrooms make
a happy home on a rotting log

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

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North Umpqua Trail (Hot Springs Segment)

Just when you think you've seen it all, you find out you haven't. We were hiking on the North Umpqua Trail on Halloween day and as I approached Columnar Falls, there was a comely lass posing in front of the falls for a camera dude squinting into the viewfinder, kneeling on the trail and totally engrossed in his photography avocation. Her attire and general vibe were medievally rustic as she was wearing a brown Little Red Riding Hood-style cape and hood. At that particular moment, I was picking out an off -trail route down to some logs for a lunch spot and at first glance vaguely noticed that she was wearing matching flesh-colored shirt and pants. On a second look though, the odd flesh-coloring was explained by the fact didn't have any clothing on at all other than the cape, which may have led to a third and fourth look just to confirm the second look. And there she was, standing on the North Umpqua Trail, close enough for me to notice a whole flock of goose-pimples to go along with her Oregon grapes and deer ferns, euphemistically speaking. We inadvertently made eye contact, forcing us to awkwardly acknowledge each other's presence:

Me: Hello, how are you today?

Lady Godiva: I'm fine, doing well. 

Me: Aren't you cold? 

Lady Godiva: Yes.  

That had to have been the oddest conversation ever to take place between a fully-clothed man and an unclothed woman in a freezing forest in the entire history of humankind, but hey, it was Halloween at Umpqua Hot Springs, after all!

Plenty of clothing on our group

The fully-clothed part of our hike began at Toketee Lake, the comparitively warm waters covered with a thin layer of mist. It was frosty cold so unlike Miss North Umpqua Trail, we were all properly attired in ski caps, mittens, sweaters, sweatshirts, parkas, or some variation thereof. The first half of the hike was through shady woods so we really felt the lack of warm sun as we hiked. The forest was damp with condensation and water drops hung off of leaves, twigs, and hiker's noses.

The trail was mostly leaf-littered

Between my last hike here and this current edition, leaves had fallen en masse onto the trail so our feet swished through them as we hiked. Because of the near constant shade, the fall colors were muted, tending toward pale and light yellow hues. The waters of the nearby North Umpqua River were dark and black, the lack of color also attributable to the lack of sunlight. 

The forest was a mix of color and trees

At the halfway point, the trail crossed over the river and I compulsively scanned the banks and rock islands for my hiking pole that had been lost to the river currents during my last hike here. Didn't see it, but then I didn't really expect to. The bridge crossing was notable in that the crossover did put us on the sunny side of the river where autumn really began in earnest. Let the fall colors begin!

Autumn fanfare

The forest understory was mostly comprised of the ever ubiquitous vine maple, and the small trees were really putting on a show with yellow, orange, and red leaves all lit up by sunbeams like so many multihued stars in the universe's brightest galaxy. Tall firs interspersed with bigleaf maple trees loomed over all lesser life forms growing or hiking underneath, the big leaves glowing bright yellow in the ample sunlight higher up. Needless to say, hikers with cameras soon lagged behind those without.

Penny and Missy cross the North Umpqua River on a rainbow bridge

Some of our crew turned around at the stout footbridge spanning Deer Creek while others continued on. Some of our group that had never seen the delicate beauty of Columnar Falls so the remaining contingent hiked on for another mile and a half to the falls where we observed a delicate beauty of a different sort as we ate lunch. Across the North Umpqua River and high on a slope, were the pools of hot water collectively known as Umpqua Hot Springs and while we ate, groups of hikers would arrive at the springs and immediately begin removing clothing. Across the river, there was one last pool of hot water with a bunch of naked dudes whooping it up. We, with our ski caps and down jackets, were severely overdressed but on the plus side, we were quite comfortable in the chill outdoor air.

Sun illuminated the autumnal leaves

All good things come to an end though, and we packed up our gear and returned to the trail. The last time I saw Aphrodite of the Falls, she was holding a ceramic moon and sun over her head, posing in front of the falls while her photographer friend captured the scene. I couldn't help but be captured by the beauty of what I was witnessing and of course I am referring to the Canon ESO 5D Mark IV camera in his hands. The Umpqua National Forest Nymph still looked cold, though.

Tinder fungus thrives on a log cut

For more photos (none of which are of our Naked Lady of the Woods, sorry) of this hike, please visit the Flickr album.

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North Umpqua Trail (Hot Springs Segment)

In many ways, this hike was all about the devastating Archie Creek Fire, even though the Hot Springs Segment of the North Umpqua Trail (NUT) emerged unscathed from that massive conflagration. The drive to the trailhead went through more than twenty-five miles (no exaggeration!) of carnage and charred detritus left behind when the flames receded. The lower segments of the NUT are just acres and acres of black trees and scorched earth with wisps of smoke still curling from live embers. The highway was littered with rocks, landslides, and fallen trees and you could smell the smoke in the air. Charred ruins were all that remained of homes and lives shattered by the roaring fire. Already well engaged in the business of cleaning up the mess, virtual armies of construction workers and government vehicles were as pervasive as a swarm of foraging yellowjackets. Given the end-of-the-world vibe of the burn area, it was nearly a religious experience when the fire zone was left behind and I was able to drive through green forest again, as if the fire had never happened.

Peace like a forest trail

I generally try to hike the Hot Springs Segment in mid-October when the fall colors are at their most colorful and bright. However, I was a bit ahead of the autumn curve and most of the vine maples and dogwoods were just light green or pastel yellow. That's OK though, because the stretch of trail next to the river is serene and peaceful, its calming vibe providing succor and nourishment to a troubled soul such as myself. Besides which, walking on any trail these days that is not black and ashy is a good hike.

The North Umpqua River, flowing next to its namesake trail

The first mile or so of hiking is a wander through a forest mostly comprised of Douglas fir with the odd big-leaf maple tree here and there. If you like Oregon grape, ferns, and tall trees, then this is your place. After a series of ups and downs high above the river mostly hidden by trees, the trail dropped down to the river's edge and commenced my favorite stretch of trail on the Hot Springs Segment. Here, the forest arcs over the trail like the nave of a Gothic cathedral. The path was covered with a layer of dead leaves and of course, my old friend the North Umpqua River provided companionship on the left side.

My hiking pole was sacrificed for this photo

However, my friendship with the river was sorely taxed by an acrimonious dispute over ownership of a hiking pole. The Hot Springs segment is halved where Forest Road 3401 crosses both trail and river. The trail also crosses from one side of the river to the other with a nice view of the flowing waters as you cross. Nice views means stopping for photographs and I was doing that very thing when suddenly I was distracted by a series of metallic pings. Looking down in the direction of the sound, I was horrified to see one of my hiking poles rattling through a gap in the bridge railings. "Nooooo..." I gasped as the pole slipped through and dropped into the river with an audible plop. Where it fell was fairly shallow so I figured I'd just wade out and retrieve the errant pole. But who knew those damn things float? At any rate I bid a tearful farewell to Lefty Pole (also known as $89) as he floated on out of sight in the river's current. Ah Lefty, you survived deer raids and many a rough trail, and this is how it ends.

Vine maple, hedging bets whether tis autumn or summer

After saying goodbye to my old friend, I headed back onto the trail. The path inclined and I did something I haven't done in decades: hike without my poles. It felt so weird. But the route was now on the sunny side of the river and in forest sunbeams, the vine maple leaves turned toward the yellow and orange end of the color spectrum. Living in the moment, I soon forgot about my painful loss. 

Forest untouched by fire, as it should be

Going past the stout bridge spanning Deer Creek, I continued on to the trail junction with the path leading to Umpqua Hot Springs, currently closed because of damage to the wooden shelter. An all-female crew was removing the destroyed shelter by toting the stout timbers thereof on their strong backs. When you factor in the back-and-forth hike from the trailhead to the hot springs and back with a load of wood on your back, that's some hard physical labor. On behalf of the naked people that frequent the springs, I offer up a tip of a hat to the hard work being done by the Forest Service crew. I'm sure the naked people will appreciate not getting slivers or rusty nails in inconvenient places.

The watery grave of my hiking pole

Call me irrational, but on the return leg, at every available opportunity, I made my way to the river in the vain hope that somehow I would find my hiking pole washed up onto the riverbank. Needless to say that did not happen but on the plus side, I now have a new pair of hiking poles.

The Golden Trail

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

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North Umpqua Trail (Deer Leap Segment)

A funny thing happened on this hike. The hiking festivities on the Deer Leap Segment of the North Umpqua Trail commenced with a rather rigorous uphill slog and there was nothing to do but lower my head and attack the mad uphill charge. In short order, the trail crested and the hike continued on what would wind up being an up-and-down all-day thing. But, wait just a minute here! What just happened? Who didn't stop for rest breaks on the way up? Who was feeling pretty darn walky on this day? This dude, that's who! I've already managed a round shape so it's about time I started rounding into shape!

Raindrops keep falling on my head...

My retirement had not been going as planned. Initially, my vision was for me to become an uber-fit hiking and biking dude after ceasing engagement in any form of gainful employment. My intentions were good, but once I found out I could just sleep in, wave bye-bye to the uber-fitness regimen and say hello to general all-around slothitude. I did keep up a minimal token hiking schedule though, generally getting out onto the trail at least once a week. But, because of a notable paucity of any physical activity in between outings, my hikes had gradually became shorter and less challenging. Clearly, a change was needed and lately, a mostly every-other-day schedule has been adopted and implemented.

A small waterfall was
the turnaround point

Some mental acuity should be incorporated to go along with the physical exercise program because at the trailhead, it was discovered my socks and liner socks were still sitting on the living-room couch, where they did me no good at all. Additionally, my boots had recently seen duty a couple of days prior on the Briggs Creek Trail, and that particular hike included a wet ford across Dutchy Creek. Not only were my boots still wet, but Dutchy water mixed with stinky feet offal was noisily sloshing inside. Nothing to do but stick my bare feet in cold, wet, and stinky boots and commence hiking. That'll teach me. Maybe.

Rain beads up on a skunk cabbage leaf

Speaking of wet and cold, it was raining as I set out on the Deer Leap segment, beginning from Toketee Lake. Three weeks ago, I had tried to hike this segment from the Medicine Creek side but didn't get very far due to a destroyed bridge, courtesy of a ginormous rock rolling down from above. Hiking west from the Toketee Lake end of the trail segment, there was very little chance of encountering smashed  bridges or deep creeks, so my chances of getting in a decent hike were pretty good, lack of socks notwithstanding.

Eminently green trail

Anyway, up through the forest in the rain I go and yay, my sockless legs were certainly under me today! Once the trail crested, the sun came out and let's have another yay, it might even turn out to be a sunny day. Not really, though, this was "raisun" weather, alternating rapidly between rainy and sunny throughout the day.

Devil's matchsticks light up a rock

Spring was in full song with a lush and verdant forest bursting at the seams with rampant greenery and scenery. If you love a luxuriously green forest, then you will absolutely love this section of the venerable North Umpqua Trail. Wildflowers were also going at it, mostly due to whitish colored species such as Columbia windflower, candy flower, yellowleaf iris, false Solomon's seal, and the like. For a some non-white color variety, I did come across the first pink woodland phlox and rhododendron flowers seen (by me) this year, but not certainly the last.

Candystick emerges from the depths of winter

A moment of hilarity occurred when I ran into the only other hiker I'd see on this day. Her dog was clearly out of its element out in the woods and was jumping nervously, looking over its shoulder at every sound like the city-slicker fraidy-cat canine it was. Throw in a scary but incredibly handsome hiker into the mix and dog therapy was clearly going to be required if the erstwhile household pet was ever going move on from this traumatic and mentally scarring event. That dog was not going to walk by me on the trail at all, no sir, no how, no way. However, when the hiker did go past me and called to the dog the pooch tentatively tip-toed past, breaking out in a terrified run and yelp as two humans laughed in uproarious amusement.

Trail through the rock garden

The middle portion of this hike was the coolest part, though. Apparently a large avalanche occurred so many eons ago, to go along with the formation of basaltic cliffs and other rock formations. During the subsequent epochs, a forest sprung up around the rocks so what you have now is about a mile of huge boulders and forbidding cliffs interspersed with trees, all covered with the ever present blanket of moss. The trail snaked through the rocks and I really enjoyed hiking in this North Umpqua-style zen garden.

There's a river down there somewhere

Although this was the North Umpqua Trail, which in theory follows the North Umpqua River, the truth is the Deer Leap Segment is high, well inland, and ensconced deep within a dense forest above the river. Naturally, the North Umpqua is hidden from view, although it could always be heard through the trees. Besides the usual river noise, a deeper riverine roar emanated from scenic Toketee Falls at one point; too bad the spectacular waterfall was hidden from view. Apparently (later confirmed on the map) the river made a sharp bend for the trail crested at a forested saddle where the river could be heard from both front and rear. Near the saddle, a small break in the trees provided a partial view down the impressive river canyon.

It's about the journey and not the destination

The entire Deer Leap Segment is between eight and nine miles long and I was not going to hike the full segment as an out-and-back. I may have been feeling walky but sixteen-plus miles would have sorely abused my newfound energetic mood. Instead, the basic plan was to hike at least four miles in and then, solely based on weather and/or fatigue, more formally at which arbitrary mileage number to turn around at. The whole of this mileage dissertation is to state that basically, this was a hike without any real sense of destination.

My lunchtime view

All that changed when an unnamed seasonal creek waterfalled down a mossy rock face, landing photogenically into a splash pool next to the trail. This made a nice spot for lunch, relaxation, and peaceful contemplation and I so obliged. And best of all, it met the criteria for a logical turnaround point. After a healthy recharging of soul batteries, it was time to turn around and hike back in the rain or sun, depending on the rapidly changing moods of the sky above.

Life, or at least this water drop, hangs in the balance

After the hike was done, I felt pretty good as my boots were removed at the car. All the ups on this up-and-down hike had not been as daunting as normal. In fact, my legs still had more miles left in them after this 8'ish mile walk. Plus, the sublime forest beauty left me a little more at peace than when I had started. However, my feet did not have a lot more miles in them as they were pretty well chafed after eight miles in wet boots with no socks. I'll have to keep this hiking and mental regimen going because one should not waste an ample mind, but one should mind an ample waist.

The North Umpqua Trail rocks!

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

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North Umpqua Trail (Hot Springs Segment)

The year before, I had hiked on the Hot Springs Segment of the famed North Umpqua Trail (NUT) and the fall colors were astounding. So vibrant, so colorful, so eminently autumnal, I just had to come back and show my friends what a great fall hike the Hot Springs Segment of the NUT was. Chalk it up to the Richard Hike effect, but naturally on the day of this edition of the Hot Springs Segment hike, it just would have to be a gloomy, gray, and all-around dreary day dumping cold rain on my autumn hike dreams, hopes, and aspirations. It also stood to reason that when the weather gets bad, three people will nonetheless show up for the hike, preventing me from canceling the hike and spending the day indoors, all cozy warm and comfy dry. Props to Lindsay, Tim, and Patti though, for forcing me to "enjoy" a wet and rainy hike in a sodden but colorful forest. 

They don't look very happy to be rain hiking

Beginning at Toketee Campground, we crossed the North Umpqua River on a gracefully arching footbridge and traipsed up and down through a dark but lush forest. The rain was coming down fairly heavy and Oregon grape leaves, fern fronds, and hiker heads all glistened from the accumulated wetness. Autumn was in full song, albeit on the soggy side, and the trail was covered with leaf litter. I always enjoy the swishing sound of boots scuffing through leaves, but that's a sound which does not get made when the leaves are waterlogged.

A beautiful trail on a not so beautiful day

It's hard to pick a best section of the North Umpqua Trail's seventy-eight miles, but the segment after the trail drops down to river level would be a prime candidate. The path is covered by a leafy bower of yellow leaves with colorful forest on one side and swiftly flowing river on the other. When not meandering through dense stands of vine maples, the track weaves through a cathedral-like aisle of tall firs. And always, fallen leaves covered the trail, having been knocked down to the ground en masse by the unrelenting rain. Despite the moisture falling from the sky, much photography ensued, along with muttered apologies to my camera.

The North Umpqua flows through the autumnal woods

Just under the two-mile mark, the North Umpqua Trail popped out onto gravel Forest Road 3401 heading towards Umpqua Hot Springs. Driving there is cheating in my humble opinion, the hot springs should only be enjoyed after a good long hike to get there. Although to be honest, driving to the steamy springs would make more sense on a cold and rainy day, but that's not how we roll. At any rate, we crossed over to the opposite side of the river via road and bridge and resumed hiking.

Decaying leaves make a bridge crossing treacherous

After crossing the rushing river, the trail acquired more of an uphill quality as it began to gain some elevation. However, the rate of acquisition was not all that steep, and it was fairly easy walking except for the rain falling from the sky, imparting the forest with a surround-sound hiss of raindrops striking dead leaves. At about the three mile mark, the stout metal bridge at Deer Creek hove into view and given the wet conditions, it seemed like a good place as any to turn around at.

The forest was full of mushrooms, big and small

After a quick look-see at Deer Creek flowing under the bridge, we headed back and thankfully, the rain began to ease up. The Tim and Richard half of our crew had cameras and per the natural order of things, we soon were bringing up the rear. And can you blame us? Mushrooms and fungi were sprouting everywhere in the damp forest, in all manner of shape, size, and color. And where there were no fungal delights to entertain us, there was an ample amount of fall color thanks to the maple and dogwood trees.

The Golden Road

Since this was an out-and-back hike, we enjoyed the same old beautiful forest and river scenery all over again, the main difference being that we were comfortably dry and generally unrained upon on the return. While dry, we were not necessarily warm as the sky still remained dark and portentous, and the air chill. Hiking in comfortable camaraderie, we enjoyed the simple activity of walking on a leaf-littered path in an arboreal cathedral nave comprised of tall trees. 

"Raindrops keep falling on my head..."

As we neared the end of this hike, we were feeling pretty superior to all our hiking comrades who had opted to stay home. The forest had been sublime, the river peaceful, and the autumn colors spectacular in their own rain-soaked way. But before we reached the end, the heavens opened up and began dumping water on the woods below along with the few people hiking in them. Our friends might have made the drier choice, but we definitely had more fun!  

Deer Creek was our turnaround point

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

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North Umpqua Trail - Hot Springs Segment

The North Umpqua Trail wanders along next to its namesake river for 78 miles and in some future year I WILL backpack the entire route. The last three years, fire has kept me from doing this very thing but maybe 2019 will be the year. Because of the proximity of the North Umpqua Trail (hereafter referred to as the NUT) to Roseburg, I have hiked on most of the NUT but there are yet three pieces of trail that have yet to be graced by an O'Neill boot. Before the hike covered in this brilliantly written blog post, it had been four bits of unhiked trail, but I did manage to cross the Hot Springs Segment off the short list on a beautiful autumn day.

Moss covers all that does not move

The Hot Springs Segment is a relatively short 4'ish mile long section of trail that connects the power grids (there are a number of hyrdroelectric projects and diversions in the area) at Toketee Lake to the naked bathers at Umpqua Hot Springs. Depending how you look at it, both ends have their pluses and minuses, and I should be more circumspect about using the word "ends" in close sentence proximity to "naked bathers". My preconceived notion of the Hot Springs Segment had been that it was a fairly utilitarian segment of trail and thereby not particularly worthy of hiking on. After this gorgeous hike, I'll have to admit that I was wrong (for the very first time, ever).

Rock formation in the forest

Luna (my dog) was mindlessly happy to go hiking, whether the trail be utilitarian or not. I was a little more doubtful but had to admit that the hike got off to a nice start. Toketee Lake was like glass and reflected the surrounding mountains nicely. A footbridge crossed over the North Umpqua River where it poured into the lake, and the trail on the other side of the span headed uphill into a dense forest. 

Mushroom eats what moss does not

In hindsight, the forest was comparatively drab when compared to the forthcoming autumnal delights yet ahead of me, but I enjoyed the greenery surrounding the trail anyway. Mushrooms were sprouting everywhere and moss covered all that did not move. The cedar and fir trees were encrusted with lichen clinging to their trunks. 

Leaf-covered North Umpqua Trail

Vine maples were in full autumn swing, but in the deep shade the colors were a rather subdued pale yellow. That began to change when the trail dropped down to river level. The increased sunlight (not that I felt any of the sun's warmth on the shady side of the river, but that's just me whining) had the vine maples and dogwoods sporting a more vibrant autumnal palette of bright red, orange, pink, and yellow hues. 

Dew formed on leaves and hikers alike

The river moisture sustains an ample supply of moss which grew everywhere, and even though it was mid-morning, the day was at dew-point. Water drops condensed out of thin air and formed on nearby vegetation, dogs, and hikers. You could really feel the moisture in the atmosphere, and I could certainly feel the moisture on my pants legs as I waded through the damp vegetation. When the trail got close to the river, Luna was unleashed for quick sip and dips and she was also became quite wet. It almost felt like we were hiking in the interior of a water balloon.

Trail tunnel

However, the trail eventually peeled away from the river and we quickly dried out as we hiked on a trail covered with fallen leaves. The colors were entrancing and much photography ensued, making our hiking pace quite slow, much to the chagrin of a certain dog who hikes a lot faster than her incredibly handsome owner.  

The North Umpqua was always near

At about the two-mile mark, the trail egressed onto gravel Forest Road 3401 and crossed over to the sunny side of the river on a road bridge. Aah, now this was living! The sun warmed us both up and layers were shed and I converted my pants to shorts by zipping off the lower leggings. The trailhead here had a fair number of cars parked there by hikers looking for a slightly longer walk to the hot springs. 

Bright colors on the sunny side of the river

Autumn was simply awesome on this section of trail. The colors were astounding, made even more so when illuminated in the sunlight. I daresay that at times, the very air was glowing orange underneath the vine maples. And lest the vine maples hog all the fall glory, taller big-leaf maple trees were glowing bright yellow against a cobalt blue sky while dogwood contributed bright colors somewhere between pink and orange to the autumn ambiance. Much photography ensued.

Put your tongue in, I'm trying to take a picture of you

A brand new bridge spanned Deer Creek and that was our turnaround point. Over the last few years, the bridge had been taken out by falling trees and floods. Accordingly, this version of the bridge was brand new and you could still smell the creosote on the planks. Around the bridge, trees had been cut down and the logs were stacked up next to the creek, hopefully this iteration of the bridge will last longer than its predecessors.

Why we hike

On the return, the afternoon sunlight slanted through the forest and shadows were cast longer and longer as the day waned. At the end of the hike, I was kicking myself, wondering why I had never hiked this segment of the NUT before, it had been pretty spectacular. Now, if I can only get to backpack it in summer of 2019. Wish me luck!

Fungal collection

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

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