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 (Dread and Terror Segment)

The trail had been etched into rocky cliffs above the river but here, the trail was soft soil and mud, and was badly eroded. The tread was narrow in width and inconveniently sloped off-camber toward the downhill side. More deer track than trail, the path was moist, muddy, and slippery as it rounded a cliff face, and there was not a lot of room for error. About fifteen feet below the precarious path, the North Umpqua River flowed, the waters deep and dark and only too willing to accept any hikers falling into its watery black embrace.

Boots (and feet contained within) got wet wading across creeks

Basically, the preferred mode of getting around this danger spot was to lean into the cliff, brace with the cliff-side arm for balance, and then step across as far as possible. When it was my turn, I stretched my leg across the worst of the faint trail and then transferred weight from the back foot to the front foot. Uh-oh, my front foot did not get traction and began sliding down to the river. No problem, I turned into the cliff and grabbed hold for a steadying purchase. Uh-oh again, for the cliff was mostly mud and instead of clinging to temporary safety, my front foot continued its slide and now both hands contained a fistful of soil and were not attached to anything solid other than my arms. Ok Richard, this is the appropriate time to panic, so I did my best desperate Wiley E. Coyote impression. You know the one where he is temporarily running in mid-air before falling off a cliff? That was me, right then! But somehow, I got just enough traction from my two frantically flailing feet to flop across to the accompaniment of Patti making some kind of squeaking inhaling noise like a mouse with whooping cough. Horrified, she had witnessed the whole episode. How's that for experiencing some actual dread and terror on the Dread and Terror Segment of the North Umpqua Trail?

The always graceful and delicate Columnar Falls

My near-catastrophe notwithstanding, the Dread and Terror is mostly benign and is one of the prettier sections of the North Umpqua Trail. Beginning at the Umpqua Hot Springs trailhead as we did, the first mile or so was all about the numerous springs and creeks gushing up and out of the earth, flowing over and onto the trail. After crossing Loafer Creek (which was NOT named after me no matter what Mrs. O'Neill says) we came across ethereally graceful Columnar Falls. More seep than actual waterfall on a cliff face comprised of basaltic pillars long since mossed over, the constant moisture sustains a lacy set of trickles that make the falls a very special place, indeed. 

The cliffs leaked water throughout the hike

Still within a mile of the trailhead, we ran into a couple of surprises in the form of Surprise Falls and Surprise Creek, both so named because, unannounced and fully formed, they jump right out of the ferny earth next to the trail, figuratively shouting "Surprise!" as they do so. There were also many other springs and seeps small enough to remain nameless as they toil in anonymity for all of perpetuity. They do a fine job too, as evidenced by the constant moisture, moss, and ferns growing on and all around the trail.

Water running on the trail was a thing

The route was a basic study in alternates, for the trail would amble through a lush and mossy forest next to the North Umpqua River and then clamber high up on a cliff-hugging overlook of the river coursing in the bottom of its canyon. Rinse and repeat for at least the next four miles, which was the extent of our venture. It's hard to get bored on this hike because the scenery varies frequently as the miles accrue. 

Either a mushroom or an alien pod baby's egg

Down in the forested sections, there was a burgeoning explosion of fungal growth. Seems like everything from dog vomit slime mold to coral fungus were busy consuming decaying logs and thick layers of forest duff. It was a veritable mycological rainbow with fungi of all color, sizes, shapes, and body types slowing down hikers with cameras. 

Puddle 1, Terry 0

At nearly the four mile mark, the trail went swampy as it traversed a boggy creek bottom. Boots and pants legs were soon wet and muddy, and hikers were mostly happy. I slipped into a knee-deep hole there too, but at least I was not the only hiker in our party to do so. Shortly afterward the seven of us plopped down on the forest floor to eat lunch and let wet pants legs dry out. And after our lunch 'n laze, we then headed back the way we had come. And I of course, still had that scary near-fall experience waiting for me.

The sunlight set the woods on figurative fire

On the return leg, the thin sun finally made it down to the forest floor, warming souls and hearts alike, illuminating the autumn leaves as if they had been plugged into a wall socket. It had been a cold day while hiking in the shadows and the fall colors had been rather muted until the sunlight hit. But with the sun now satisfying its contractual obligations, the vine maples were gloriously colorful and once again, those of us with cameras soon found ourselves lagging behind while other hikers simply enjoyed the soft golden glow underneath the trees.

The spot of my dread and terror

What really cheesed me about my near fall is that I had taken a photo of our little group making the step-over (completely, without incident too, I might add). Looking at the photo, it doesn't seem like it was all that dangerous but in this case, the photo lies, it really was more treacherous than an ex-spouse who also happens to be a pirate. But fortunately, all turned out well and let's not be repeating any more Surprise Falls (non-waterfall related context) again! 

Where light and dark meet

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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North Umpqua Trail (Dread and Terror section)

On January 1, I hiked at Mount Ashland on an ice covered Pacific Crest Trail. On January 2, just 7 minutes after opening time at REI, I was the proud owner of a brand new pair of crampons. On January 22, the Friends of the Umpqua scratched an upcoming hike on the North Umpqua Trail's Dread and Terror section due to icy roads and trails. On January 26, Ray and I hiked the Dread and Terror section. All of these events are related.

Care for a swim?

Ray had had his own ice issues last October when hiking up the hilariously named Opie Dildock Pass in the Three Sisters Wilderness. He too, became the proud owner of a pair of crampons shortly thereafter. Seems like icy trails have spurred rapid growth in the crampon manufacturing sector of the economy. After doing our part in helping jump start the nation's commerce via the conspicuous consumption of crampons, Ray and I decided we needed to try out our unused crampons and besides which, the club's hike cancellation sure sounded like a dare.

Streaker at the hot springs

It was a slippery drive to the Umpqua Hot Springs trailhead on an ice covered forest road and there were lots of cars and tents at the trailhead. Apparently neither rain, nor sleet, nor snow, nor icy roads will deter dozens of hot spring aficionados from sitting naked in smelly sulfur water bubbling with what I hope are natural sulfur bubbles. The hot springs denizens we encountered at the trailhead looked like they'd been living in the woods too long, sporting Sasquatch type hair and beards. And the men were no different! Sallying forth on the North Umpqua Trail instead of taking the trail to the hot springs, we were the odd ones out among the unclad hordes. Especially since we were fully clothed,  I might add.

Ray beholds the magical power of the crampon

The biting cold was in direct contrast to the balmy weather we'd been having for the last couple of months and the ice crunched under our feet as we walked. Both Ray and I were quite pleased with the crampons as we magically hiked on ice, as sure footed as an eight-legged goat.

A creek emerges from the earth

You'd be hard pressed to find a prettier mile of trail than the first mile of the Dread and Terror section. Springs gush on either side of the trail and the forest is amply mossed and ferned. You can almost imagine leprechauns and gnomes (besides Ray) leaping and cavorting in all the greenery. Creeks and waterfalls gush forth from the slopes, fully formed at their hydrologic inception.  Toss in some freezing temps and snow, and the hike becomes simply sublime.

Moss, entombed in ice

The trail undulated up and down from the river's edge to narrow catwalks on rocky cliffs and our inner mountain goats were happy with each cliff. Of course, the springs gushing over the trail created large icicles and ice patches and we walked past with nary a pratfall, thanks to the awesome magical power of the crampons. Life was good, although the further we walked, the more snow and ice on the ground we encountered.

We couldn't (safely) get past this ice patch

Our crampons were the hiking boot equivalent of chains on tires but they do have limits. We arrived at a thick patch of ice on a cliff and discovered our crampon-lites did not work on a clear ice slab several inches thick. We should have bought and brought a set of man-crampons, the kind with sharp ice-gripping teeth underneath. Because we were on a narrow path about 40 feet above the river, the consequences for slipping were fairly dire. The odds of slipping were pretty high too, so we turned around at the 2 mile mark, living to slip and fall some other day.

Gnome (besides Ray) homes

On the way back, we checked out a very nice riverside backpack campsite. A weak sun made an appearance and we sat down for lunch. Basaltic pillars formed a cliff across the North Umpqua and further up the hill, a steam cloud gave away the location of the hot springs bacchanalia. Some intrepid gnome or leprechaun (besides Ray) had balanced rocks nearby, creating odd little architectural structures worthy of a Hobbit movie scene. The whole vibe was awesomely magical, like crampons.

Columnar Falls

For more pictures of this hike, see the Flickr album.

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