Dellenback Dunes (Hall Lake version)

My life is not complete until I purchase a shoulder-season sleeping bag with all of these features: 850-fill water-resistant goose down, 15-dernier ripstop nylon shell, variable baffle spacing locates, an insulated yoke to prevent heat loss at the shoulders, and an internal anti-snag zipper strip combine to prevent that awkward moment when your trap yourself inside your own sleeping bag. And that is just one little item on my very large list of stuff that I absolutely have to have.

Why we hike!

Unfortunately, reality butts heads with wants, like two rutting bighorn sheep crashing into each other on the high mountain ridge of I'm-Not-Working-Anymore. So, despite my best efforts to retire and stop working altogether, I find myself gainfully employed on a part-time basis because I have full-time needs. And despite my best efforts to live the remainder of my life as a reclusive hermit, I now find I must interact with co-workers too, darn it. And despite my best efforts to introduce my colleagues to the wonderful little avocation of hiking, my sofa-bound workmates politely decline my invitations. Until now, that is. Newly hired Jay has recently come to Roseburg by way of Massachusetts and India, and when he opined he wanted to go hiking with me, I happily seized the opportunity to take him on a hike before he actually read my blog.

An incoming fog bank was cause for concern

Normally, my go-to hike for newbies is the Rogue River Trail but the worst fire season ever was still smoking out southern Oregon, so it was off to the coast for cleaner and clearer air. Good news had arrived in the form of light rain during the week prior, and all of western Oregon rejoiced at the tamping down of the fires. However, there was no blue sky waiting for Jay and I at the John Dellenback Dunes Trailhead, just a bleak overcast of gray clouds. Still, that was better than the bleak overcast of dirty brown clouds of acrid smoke and ash that we had been contending with for the last six weeks.

Portal to Dellenback Dunes

The trail to the dunes is fairly civilized at the start, heading through coastal woods after crossing Eel Creek on a picturesque wooden bridge. This was mid-September, so the coastal huckleberries were in season and we partook as we walked through the damp woods. Eventually, the well-maintained path morphed into a sandy track and Jay was quite taken with the smooth red limbs of manzanita, as the unique shrub does not grow in Massachusetts or India, apparently.

Singing "The first hill is the steepest..."

Once the trail spit us out onto Dellenback Dunes proper, we quickly walked uphill in soft sand to the top of the "Great Dune". After admiring the view of the vast sandy expanse stretching out towards the ocean, we discussed our hiking options. The normal route is to hike on the "Great Dune" to the beach trail, follow the beach to Tenmile Creek, and then bushwhack back for an 8'ish mile loop. For a shorter distance, we could walk to the beach and back for a 6'ish mile and relatively easy hike. Then there was the wildly up and downer to Hall Lake. While short in mileage, this little hike is mighty in climbing up and down some rather large mountains of sand. Jay opted for the last route, so short and sweet our hike would be.

Jay finds out downhill in soft sand is better than uphill

As we dropped down the "Great Dune", I remarked to Jay this would be easy! But what goes down, must come up and we soon quit talking to each other as we struggled up a large sand alp, the soft sand making it hard to work our way up to the top.  Once at the dune summit, we again admired the views while waiting for our respiration rate to return to normal as our heaving lungs worked overtime to catch up. Only 4 more dunes to go!

Grubs live int the sand

While going up and down a successive series of giant sand dunes, I noticed small bug tracks weaving hither and yon on the sand. Once such track ended abruptly so I dropped to my knees and dug carefully around the end point. I was rewarded for my efforts when a grub rolled into my hands.  Mystery solved! I had always wondered creature had made those tracks.

Seed beetles were out for a hike, too

Another mystery was solved when I spotted a red-and-black seed beetle crawling on the sand. For years, I had observed a particular set of tracks that consisted of short little feet, like a centipede, with a tail-dragging mark in between. It always looked to me like a lizard track, except there are no lizards in these sand dunes. Well, turns out that tail-drag is the mark that a beetle butt makes when it's dragged through the sand. The next great mystery concerns why the beetle is out there in the first place, there's not much out there in the way of vegetation apart from beachgrass.

The dearly departed

One of the highlights of this route is the ghost forest atop the third dune we climbed over. At one point, there had been a thriving forest of trees growing here. My theory is that the sand encroached the trees and smothered the life out of them. At any rate, all that is left of the trees is a stand of ghostly white snags etched against the skyline. The sand is littered with tree parts and before long, the snags will crumble into little itty-bitty pieces and the ghost forest will be no more. The wind soughing through the trees imparted a forlorn air about the place. Jay and I walked reverently past the tree graveyard, paying utmost respect to the deceased.

Let's walk up that!

The fifth dune was the toughest one, seemingly more sandy wall than dune. We angled across the face of it because going up would never work. As it was, it was two steps up and one down and if you stopped to take a picture, admire the view, or simply rest, you were liable to lose all that hard-won elevation as the sand collapsed under your feet.

Hall Lake

Our reward for this dune, though, was a nice overlook of scenic Hall Lake, its dark waters half in the sandy dunes and the other half in densely wooded forest. As we had been walking we had noticed a large bank of clouds and fog  rolling in and just before we got to the lake, the fog arrived, carried in by a stout breeze. The temperature dropped and we put on some extra clothing as we shivered while eating lunch.

The fog paid a brief visit

We didn't tarry because of the chill breeze, so after lunch, we headed back to the crest of the large dune we had hiked in on. The wind was brisk but on the positive side, it blew that nasty fog bank all the way to Kansas, and it became a sunny day all of a sudden.

Free skin exfoliation at Dellenback Dunes

This particular dune was acutely defined on its crest and the wind was blowing sand over it, blurring the sharp lines of the dune. I had shorts on and my shins can painfully testify to the sandblasting properties of windblown sand. Once we dropped off the dune, we were sheltered from the wind and it became what legitimately could be called a warm day.

There were numerous little ponds in the dunes still

I was trying to get to the flats behind the deflation plain forest but it seemed no matter how much we angled towards the flats, deep canyons and brushy oases forced us away from the sandy flats. So, once we got out of that mess, we simply followed guide posts back to the "Great Dune". And from there, it was back to our car via the sandy track.

Boys will be boys

Before this hike, my boss had sent me a text message, warning me that I had better return Jay in the same relative condition I had found him in. So, I texted her back (after the hike) that Search-and-Rescue were optimistic they could find him before nightfall. But the truth of the matter is I didn't harm him, unless you count shoes full of sand as being harmful.

Tiger beetles were flitting all over the sands

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

Create Routes or Search for a route from millions at MapMyHike

Umpqua Spit weekend

Years ago, I took co-worker Lisa on a hike to Umpqua Spit and boy did that ever turn out to be a Richard Hike! We had it all: strong winds, horizontal rain, high tide, storm surges and sneaker waves that filled up Threemile Creek and cut us off from the car. That was Lisa's first hike with me and amazingly, we enjoyed other hiking adventures after that memorable outing, probably because no one ever told Lisa she could just say no. From that first abortive hike on Umpqua Spit, I came back with newfound religion about hiking in stormy weather on the beach and I never returned to the spit again.  To be frank, I'm scared of Umpqua Spit.

Halfway across Threemile Creek

However, when snow forces one to scratch a weekend backpack trip to Hyatt Lake, then the coast warrants a second look. The forecast for Saturday morning called for rain, winds, and thunder. However, all that was supposed to ease up by 11 o'clock with the weather becoming increasingly nicer. Since high tide was going to crest at 10 o'clock, I began my hike at noon and it was "hike on!" And since the spit's point is one of the few places on the Oregon coast that I have not yet been to, it was "spit on!"

Cue the horror movie music

I caught a lot of rain on the drive to the coast but once there, it was a gloriously sunny day with white puffy clouds forming just off shore and just on shore. The strip of beach was a cloud free zone and it was nice to get sunburned again. The next six miles were a beach walk with only sanderlings and sea gulls for company. I probably was not good company, judging by the feathered panic at my arrival to the respective flocks minding their own business at the shore's edge.

Puff balls in the sky

Clouds and blue sky were a recurring theme, particularly a low bank forming just off shore, looking like a spilled jar of cotton balls seen in medical offices the world over. The clouds hovering over the nearby town of Reedsport were much larger, towering up into the sky like a wedding cake Godzilla. I have no idea what I'm saying, but let it be noted that much photography ensued.

The jetty rocks!

Past the three mile mark, an otherworldly low dark line on the horizon was my first view of the rock jetty that shepherds the Umpqua River into the Pacific Ocean. Visually, it was a way to track my progress as I neared the jetty, my basic end destination. And over an hour after the first view, I arrived at the formidable rock wall that both contains and constrains the mighty Umpqua River.

Feel the hay fever

Setting down my pack on the sandy beach, I explored the jetty upstream a bit, following a jeep track through what would have otherwise been an impenetrable forest. It was a perfumed forest, redolent with the sweet odor of Scotch broom which was blooming everywhere. Waves were marching up the very wide Umpqua River and I had a nice view of the Umpqua Lighthouse spinning its top on the other side of the river.

Behold the mighty Umpqua River

I have to brag about my campsite, a viable candidate for Best Campsite Ever. I pitched my tent on a small flat spot atop the foredunes, with my humble little home for the weekend perched on the narrow sandy crest like a medieval castle overlooking serfs and peasants laboring in the hot sun.  From my living room window I enjoyed a magnificent view of the beach, jetty, and river as the sun sank in the sky. As day slid into twilight, the tide was coming up the river and the Umpqua was not a happy Umpqua where river outflow met the incoming tide, it was a seething and roiling boat-eating mess of angry water.  Impressive, when seen from the relative safety of the jetty rocks.

Oooh...aaah...!

The sun eventually dropped behind the clouds, which appeared to leak golden light like a tattered tent with a Coleman lantern in it. Eventually the gold turned to orange as the sun finally sunk behind the horizon. A short hike up the jeep track resulted in some photography of the twinkling lights of Winchester Bay as the beam from the lighthouse swept overhead. This whole day is why we hike.

Threemile Creek, on the return leg

The next day dawned cold and foggy and I struck camp with numbed fingers. Once the sun rose, the fog dissipated and it was a pleasant but anticlimactic 6 miles back to the car under cloudless sky. After wading across shallow Threemile Creek, I arrived at the car with a great sense of accomplishment, particularly in view of the first Umpqua Spit storm-loogie of an experience. As the president and sole member of the Umpqua Spit Conquerers, I hailed myself by heartily shouting our motto: "Veni, vidi, et conspuetur", which means "I came, I saw, I spit"

This is why we hike

For more pictures, please visit the Flickr album.

Be it ever so humble...

Tenmile Creek/Dellenback Dunes

The coast has been calling me lately, with possible hiking destinations ping-ponging randomly in my head like lottery balls bouncing around before they make somebody other than me quite wealthy. At random and for no apparent reason, the idea of hiking along Tenmile Creek in Dellenback Dunes popped out of the lottery machine that is my brain, leaving all the other destinations percolating in my skull waiting for the next draw at some future date.

Ideas emerge from my brain

Dellenback Dunes is one of my favorite little playgrounds on the coast what with plenty of square miles of scenic sand dunes set aside for the hiking crowd. However, I've been there a couple of times this year already and the hiking club has a planned hike there coming up. Favorite place or not, it needs some changing up to keep things interesting and that's where Tenmile Creek came in.

Sand, everywhere I look

Tenmile Creek runs between many-armed Tenmile Lake and the ocean but not before wandering along the southern edge of Dellenback Dunes. A nice hike can be had by taking the dunes trail to the beach and going south to the creek's delta. A tough bushwhack through the wilds to the dunes then completes the standard loop. Been there, done that, yawn. So, this time would be a brand new exploration of the expansive dunes.

The hinterlands beckon

When I arrived at the trailhead, a contingent of hikers from the Obsidians out of Eugene were also lacing up their boots. We left at the same time but I quickly fell behind as the forest floor was sprouting a varied and prodigious amount of mushrooms. Darn camera slows me down every time! After the mycological photo shoot, I continued on to where the trail spits hikers out at the base of the "Great Dune". A hiker-churned track led straight up the massive sand pile but this time, I worked my way around the bottom and headed due south away from the standard route.

The world is not flat

A large expanse of sand stretched ahead with a tree-covered hill in the distance marking the opposite bank of Tenmile Creek. The sands were pristine with only critter tracks sullying the perfect surface.  It was easy to imagine that I was the first human to set foot in the area. Besides being perfectly smooth, the route ahead looked sort of level. After a  mile of walking through the "level" sand, the point was made that looks can be so deceiving as the sands were as level as say, the Himalayas. Actually, I am exaggerating as I am sadly prone to do, the sands were relatively level but there were a few moments going up and down dune faces.

Pastoral scene, sort of

A wooded canyon marked the edge of the Dellenback Dunes with Tenmile Creek hidden below in all the vegetation. After several miles of climbing up and down dune versions of Mt. Everest with the occasional bushwhack mixed in, the coffee colored water of Tenmile Creek finally came into view as the creek snaked its way through the dunes.

Happy place with no OHV'ers

And now for a bit of rectitudinous ranting: The other side of Tenmile Creek is set aside for the OHV and dune buggy crowd and I could hear the whine of the motors as I walked. There is no reason that they have to cross Tenmile Creek and sully the Dellenback Dunes but there they were, tire tracks all over the pristine sands. There were even tracks upon the "Great Dune" which is well beyond the pale in what could be conceivably construed as an incidental incursion. I know there are many OHV'ers that follow the rules but there is an element that doesn't give a damn and they suck. End of rant.

Tenmile Creek

At the two mile mark, I was able to follow the creek without having to deal with dense forest. Periodically, flocks of ducks fled the scary hiker, taking flight in quacking panic. There had been what I thought were dog tracks all over the sands but since there were no human prints nearby, I'm not sure what animal runs all over the dunes when we are not looking. There were occasional piles of bear poop in the grasses, but the prints were too small for bear.

This sort of reminds me of my bike crash last year

The creek horseshoed its way south and it would zigzag through the dunes before reaching the sea. Easy for the creek to do but it was getting harder and harder for a certain hiker to follow the creek. Random hummocks of beachgrass and dunes caused tedious sand climbing while a dense brushy growth deterred easy exploration. Because I was in a good mood and preferred to remain that way, a retreat back to the dunes was effected.

Hikers go in but never come out

In the middle of the Dellenback Dunes, there is a large and notable "tree island" that serves as an effective navigation tool in the trailless dunes. Accordingly, I headed straight towards the tree island, skirting the edge of the deflation plain forest providing a formidible obstacle between the dunes and the beach. However, there is a trail cut through the forest that allowed for a quick beach visit.

On the boardwalk

The trail here has seen some love, what with sturdily constructed boardwalks delivering dry-footed hikers to the beach when all this forest is a big fat marsh during rainy season. It was slow going, not because of the dense growth encroaching the trail but because of all the mushrooms that entertained the camera all over again. It was not time to tarry at the beach because it felt and looked like rain was coming, a cloudy mist limited views to several miles only.

Dunes as far as the eye can see (but I wear glasses)

The rain held off thankfully on the return as I slogged up and down the formidable "Great Dune" which pointed directly to the trailhead. There were other hikers on the dunes and I could see the Obsidians about a mile ahead of me. A class of teenagers were sliding down the dunes with all the boisterousness of youth while their dog appreciated a behind-the-ear scratch from yours truly. All in all, a nice way to spend a Saturday and I'm dune sated, for the time being.

Get your red-hot mushrooms right here!

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

Create Routes or find more routes in Reedsport from millions at MapMyHike