Upper Rogue River Trail (Crater Rim Trailhead)

Rough Rider Falls is like the hiking version of Moby Dick. Ever elusive, the cascade remains an obsessive quest for me and if I don't ever get there, it won't be for lack of trying. Maybe my new trail name should be Captain Ahab. Although, I prefer to think of the unobtainable waterfall as the hiking equivalent of the Holy Grail, if only because Sir Galahad is a much cooler trail name than Captain Ahab. At any rate, my Rough Rider Falls saga continued with yet another attempt to get there.

Wet from the morning rain

Faithful readers (all three of you) will recall that on two previous occasions I had tried to hike to the falls on the Upper Rogue River Trail (URRT) via Hamaker Trailhead. The same readers will also note that the attempts both failed when huge piles of fallen trees blocked further progress along the trail. So, why not try it from the upper end of the URRT? What could ever go wrong?

Pretty much all the 10 mile hike was like this

Missy, Terry, and I set out from the Crater Rim Trailhead with a cheery "Call me Ishmael". That only makes sense if you've read "Moby Dick", which might explain the puzzled looks received from my two companions. This area had been totally charred in the 2015 Crescent Fire, and a new forest is sprouting below the acres and acres (and even more acres) of dead lodgepole pine trees. This hike would be all about hiking in a burn zone in both a good and bad way.

Fortunately, we didn't have to dodge lightning bolts

The Crescent Fire had been set alight by a lightning storm and coincidentally, there was a chance of lightning in the current forecast. The day was dark and cloudy, but electric death rays from the sky never materialized and while we did get a few drops of rain, the day went sunny at one juncture too. At any rate, we hiked on a wildly spectacular cloud day.

The massive canyon of the Upper Rogue

Just a few miles removed from its inception at Boundary Springs, the Rogue River flowed below the trail. The soil here is all pumice and soft volcanic ash, delivered no doubt when Mount Mazama experienced the cataclysmic eruption that created Crater Lake. Soft soil is no match for persistent running water, and consequently, the river has carved out an incredibly deep gorge north of Crater Lake. Since there was no more forest to clutter up the view, thanks to the Crescent Fire, we enjoyed constant views of the massive canyon.

Cottonwood Creek's canyon rivaled the Rogue's in size

We were basically following the gorge's rim but at one point the trail peeled away from the rim and commenced a rather lengthy detour around Cascade Creek. Soft volcanic soils are no match for persistent creeks either, and Cascade Creek had carved out its own gorge, rivaling the Rogue's in deepness and size, yet totally incommensurate with the creek's small water flow.

Hiking on an increasingly sketchy trail

The farther we hiked from the junction with the Boundary Springs Trail, the sketchier the path became. Fallen trees were strewn about, and the hike became all about getting over, under, or around them. No trees means increased sunlight, which means increased vegetation, which in turn means a disappearing trail. However, the Siskiyou Mountain Club had cleared this trail several years ago and we navigated by looking for log cuts and stumps left over from their handiwork. If we couldn't find those signs, then we just simply walked along the rim until we did.

The trail disappeared from view at times

We did find the trail going down into the canyon, but it was in poor shape. Besides the obligatory fallen trees and encroaching vegetation, we had to contend with scrabbling across a couple of small landslides. When we reached the bottom of the canyon, a short confab was convened where I consulted with my GPS to see where we were in relation to the falls.

Down in the Rogue's canyon

Things I learned about GPSs and online maps because of this hike: If you switch to street map to topographical to terrain view, objects (like Rough Rider Falls) can appear and disappear. The same thing can occur if you zoom in or out. The practical application of all this took place on the trail when I could not locate Rough Rider Falls on my GPS (because I had zoomed in). I could see an unnamed waterfall upstream of us but getting there was impossible because of the amount of fire debris and downfall clogging up the river canyon. As it turned out in hindsight, the falls were only about a third of a mile on the trail ahead of us. So close! 

Bushwhacking, if you overlook the lack of bushes

Believing that we could not get to Roughrider Falls, we turned around and headed back through the many miles of dead trees. At Cascade Creek. Missy suggested we go cross-country to the URRT and that sounded fun so off we went. I hesitate to call it a bushwhack because that would imply bushes, and there really weren't any. Also, it wasn't like there was that much difference between our overland route and the trail anyway.

Fireweed thrived in the burn area

So, the URRT is where hiking dreams go to die. But not completely, though. A friend of mine did reach the falls by starting at milepost 115 on the nearby highway, and then bushwhacking to the trail.  Armed with this knowledge, I can already envision a fourth attempt to capture my great white whale of a hike. Aargh, just call me Captain Ahab.

This was the closest we got to the Rogue River

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

Boundary Springs

The Great Oregon Burn Zone Tour of 2020 continued on a bright summer day in early September with this hike to Boundary Springs. The lodgepole forest surrounding Boundary Springs had perished in the same fire that had immolated the Red Cone area, the locale of my prior hike. But hey, I often say there is great beauty in a burn zone so apparently this has been one especially beautiful summer!

A new forest sprouts under the bones of the old one

The thin lodgepole forest surrounding the Boundary Springs Trail was absolutely decimated in 2015's Crescent Fire. No tree survived, the destruction was utter and complete and all that remains of the forest are countless acres of ghostly white snags standing upright, resembling on a larger basis so many porcupine quills in a dog's snout. I still can't fathom how fire can irrevocably and completely destroy an entire forest, yet spare all the mosquitoes. The adult trees were left lifeless as a statue but life always finds a way and hundreds of little lodgepole seedlings were already taking root at the feet of their deceased parents. 

A mid-hike regroup at a trail junction

Life also abounds in the form of a hiking club and eleven of us set foot on the Boundary Springs Trail, mouths collectively agape at the terrible yet awesome sight of a totally destroyed forest. Also in keeping with this summer's theme of hiking in lodgepole forests (be they dead or alive) in volcanic soils, those of us at the tail end of the hiking line ate everybody else's dust kicked up by scuffing boots.

We cross a creek flowing on the bottom of a ravine

It didn't take long for a ravine to appear on the left side of the trail with a small creek coursing at the bottom. Soft soils are no match for moving water and this small creek was eagerly engaged on its short journey to join up with the nearby Rogue River. Be it small, nonetheless the creek had cut a sizeable canyon in all the soft pumice and volcanic ash that surrounds nearby Crater Lake. 

Boundary marker as we entered the National Park

Without preamble or ceremony,  the trail dove down into yet another canyon, crossed the adolescent Rogue River, and then climbed up to the opposite side of the canyon. Boundary Springs is so named for its proximity to the north boundary of Crater Lake National Park and before long, we passed a sign commemorating entry into the park, but we had no issues getting past customs. 

Lush pastures thrived next to the Rogue River

Because the moist air next to the river offered some protection from the wildfire, there is ample greenery flourishing right next to the Rogue. Small grassy meadows were interspersed between tall healthy trees sporting green leaves and needles, the vegetation being most alluring to hikers slogging away in the hot and dusty environs above the canyon. Good thing then, that the trail began a steady descent down to river level and subsequently, to Boundary Springs itself. 

This waterfall is hard to get close to

The river was shallow and a multitude of fallen trees and logs clogged the flowing water, creating a series of natural fish weirs. I'd be tempted to say the logs fell into the river because of the fire, but the river channel has been log-littered since long before my first pre-fire hike here, so maybe it's just a Rogue River thing that occurs naturally. Despite the relative shallowness of the river, there are a few places where the river had to funnel into a narrow chute, giving rise to several photogenic cascades and waterfalls. As a precursor to Boundary Springs, all manner of seeps and springs began to gush forth next to the trail with ever increasing frequency. Moss and other assorted greenery flourished next to all the seeps, taking full advantage of the free water available just for the taking. 

Boundary Springs gushes forth

Boundary Springs is a special place because it's just not every day where a full flowing river emerges from the ground. You can stand on top of the springs, look downstream, and the Rogue River will look just like a genuine river should. Turn around and look upstream though, it's a different story: nothing but dry ground and burned forest with nary a drop of water to be seen. Apparently there's no stream in upstream! Because the water has been filtered clean during its long underground journey, there is nothing like a gulp of fresh Boundary Springs water. All life should be just like that drink of water.

The Rogue begins here

While the Boundary Springs Trail continues deeper into Crater Lake Park, becoming part of the Bald Crater Loop (described in the previous blog about Red Cone Spring), our business here was finished for the most part. Some of us went to visit West Lake while others just hiked straight back but all wound up eventually at the Boundary Springs Trailhead. The parking lot was full because apparently everybody wants to be outdoors during a pandemic and the trail had been noticeably busier than normal. Evidently we were not the only people out and about on a Great Oregon Burn Zone Tour. 

First comes fire, then comes fireweed

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

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Boundary Springs

Last year, wildfires by the dozens swept through the southern Cascades, covering Roseburg with a smothering acrid blanket of sour smoke. It was kind of like sticking your head up the exhaust pipe of a car with a blown head casket, not that I really know what that is like. Anyway, one of those many fires had burned north of Crater Lake and wouldn't you know it, Boundary Springs was right in the middle of that mess. But that was last year, and curious, I headed out to the trailhead with grandsons Daweson and  Issiah in tow, wondering what was left of the trail.

After the fire

Well, as it turned out, the trail was still there but pretty much everything around it was gone. But really, it's not all that much of a loss and I'd better explain. Previously, the trail had ambled through a viewless lodgepole pine forest before reaching the fabled springs. Lodgepole forests can be singularly tedious and dull to hike through as the spindly trees all kind of look the same after just a step or two on the trail. Lodgepoles grow in poor soils so they are the only show in town in dry dusty pumice-based soils. Because of the poor soil, there isn't much in the way of lush undergrowth or heaven help us, maybe even another tree species. The trees are scrawny and spindly and do not provide much shade, yet despite their spindliness, they manage to block all views of the Rogue River coursing below the trail. So, a fire burning up a monotonous lodgepole forest and all the mosquitoes contained wherein, is not necessarily all that bad of a thing.

Miniature lupine was a common sight

Another demerit for Boundary Springs gets awarded for being a short hike with a long drive to get there. Throw in the dull lodgepole forest and this hike naturally does not hang in my Hall of Favorite Hikes of All Time; but with two kids grumbling after the aforementioned long drive, a short hike seemed the way to go. We set out on the trail which wound its way through an austere forest of silver snags starkly etched against a cobalt sky. No trees had survived this fire yet amazingly, lodgepole seedlings were sprouting in hopeful profusion on the ground. Lodgepole needs fire to germinate as the heat from the conflagration opens up the pine cones and scatters the seeds and obviously, the fire had done its job. Just a year after the fire, and already life was returning to the forest.

The squabblers

Not only were there baby trees returning to the forest, the forest floor (or what would be the forest floor, if there were a forest) was thinly carpeted with lupines and fireweed with twittering birds flitting about the dead trees. Didn't see or hear any woodpeckers though, but just give it time. And speaking of babes in the forest, my two young charges didn't waste any time insulting and irritating each other, their whiny voices carrying through the dead forest and still air. Oh, this was going to be a long hike, despite the short distance!

Doing "The Daweson"

Ah, but the forest served up weapons of mass distraction, and the boy's seemingly incessant scathing put-downs and slashing ripostes were soon terminated by millions of voracious mosquitoes arriving to feed upon two grumpy boys. Fortunately, Grandpa was well prepared with a bottle of Deet and peace was restored to the forest after a healthy application thereof. 

Issiah the Fearless

As mentioned, the trail was without shade and it was fairly warm and we were soon sweating from a combination of endeavor and hot sun, our feet kicking up small clouds of dust that hung motionless in the still air. It was too hot for the boys to resume unfinished arguments and one outnumbered grandfather was grateful. 

The Rogue River flowed below the trail

One positive note to a wildfire wreaking death and destruction upon a forest is that views get opened up, with that annoying clutter previously referred to as "the forest" no longer getting in the way of observing the surrounding landscapes. For most of this hike, the Rogue River was eminently visible at the bottom of its canyon. Based on previous hikes in this area, I was like "There's a river down there! Who knew?"

Boundary Springs, the new version 

Because the scenery was so different from past pre-fire hikes to Boundary Springs, and because the side trail to the springs had been rerouted, I nearly didn't recognize Boundary Springs when we arrived. Following an increasingly faint path, I stepped across a creek and headed uphill where the path finally petered out. Wait a minute, that small creek I stepped over was actually Boundary Springs, without all the trees surrounding the famed fount of the Rogue River. I'm going to have get used to the new treeless look for this trail and destination!

Issiah appreciated the
refreshing qualities of the spring...

...while Daweson enjoyed the hair
curling properties of the icy waters

Anyway, as advertised, there was the Rogue River gushing out of the ground and the boys were impressed with the crystalline purity of  the water. They also were impressed with the cooling properties of the nascent river, seeing as how it was a hot day and all. In short order bandannas, shirts, pants, and boys were soon soaked in the restorative waters of Boundary Springs.

A dusty road led to West Lake

Daweson and Issiah wanted to swim but alas, the shallow river did not provide any quality swimming holes. I wanted to go on a longer hike so in a confluence of our two respective goals, we decided to strike toward West Lake. At the point where the trail crossed both the river and a forest road, we grabbed the sere road for the extra two-mile round-trip hike to the lake.

West Lake, an oasis in the middle of a burned forest

Trudge, trudge, trudge, the road was incredibly dusty, the day had become unabashedly hot, mosquitoes pestered us in spite of the Deet, and the boys began annoying each other all over again. But there in the middle of all the burned trees, was the surprisingly intact shelter at West Lake and let's give a tip of the hat to the fire crews for expending the successful effort to save the rustic cabin. Clothes were shed and moods quickly improved when the boys waded into the blue lake ringed by dead trees. If Daweson and Issiah ever form a band, they'll have to call themselves either the Skinny Dippers or the Underwear Boys. But if they ever did start a band, they'd surely start arguing about which one of them would be the lead singer. Anyway, they enjoyed swimming and verbally sniping at each other while I enjoyed taking incriminating photographs for the sole purpose of embarrassing them at a future high school graduation slide show.

Friendly spirits

Spirits restored by a backcountry swim, we resumed trudging through the dead forest under the warm sun as the mosquitoes buzzed in our faces. Yet, despite all of these travails I've been grumbling about, in my opinion the hike had been nonetheless improved by the ravages of the last year's fire. Now if only the firefighters could put out those red-hot embers of smoldering sibling rivalries!

Hoverfly, hovering as only a hoverfly can

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