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)

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 (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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McKenzie River Trail (Boulder Creek to Deer Creek)

This little section of the McKenzie River Trail is one of my summertime go-to hikes. The route is perpetually shaded for most of its eight miles or so, numerous creeks cross the trail, the forest is eminently green, and the McKenzie River makes frequent appearances with each break in the vegetative cover. Because the bottom of the river canyon is well shaded, the temperatures tend to be cooler here than in our urban areas sprawled next to Interstate 5. Also, the trail is blessedly flat for the most part, making the hiking both easier and cooler, especially on a baking warm day. So, let's hike already!

Candystick, flowering away

Despite the allusions to baking hot days, on this day the temperature was fairly mild, so the purpose of this hike rendition tended more towards sheer enjoyment of the river and shade and not at all towards frantic relief from the brain-parboiling heat of summer. Normally, I begin this section of the McKenzie River Trail from the resort at Belknap Hot Springs, but just to do something different this time, this hike commenced from the road bridge spanning the river near Boulder Creek. That way, I could make it as far as Deer Creek, which would be a whole new trail experience for me.

This small creek is actually part of the McKenzie River

Regardless of the new starting point, it was still the same old river, forest, and shade, and it felt wonderful. The path basically followed the river and rustic footbridges crossed several small creeks that were in no real hurry to meet up with the McKenzie, judging by the languid pools reflecting the low light within the forest. The canopy of mostly vine maple leaves let in very little light and the ample leafage imbued the very air with a soft green glow.

Tiger lilies prowled the trailside brush

While the creeks were in no particular hurry, dozens of women were very much intent on speeding down the trail with as much alacrity as they could muster. Seems there was a nearby women's retreat that also involved a trail run event. Me, I would retreat from any retreat that boasted a trail running event, that looked like way too much work. Besides which, I'd be sure to roll my weak ankles at some point, always a miserable occurrence. Also, despite exchanging cheery greetings with me, not all of the participants had facial expressions that said they were enjoying their more frenetic pace along the trail.

The McKenzie River Trail followed a forest road for a bit

At about the mile mark, the trail inscribed a switchback in the opposite direction and headed uphill to a forest road that is the actual McKenzie River Trail, gravel road appearance notwithstanding. After going under some power lines the road then descended back down to the river, that little detour making no sense to me at all. At any rate, the hike returned to the more comfortable milieu of fungus, flowers, and forest.

Bridge, leading from light unto dark

At about the 2.5 mile mark, the trail crossed Frissell Creek on a stout wooden bridge and from here on in, it would be all new trail for me. Underneath the bridge, the small creek flowed on its way to the river, the waters of the creek coursing amazingly clear.

Where the McKenzie divided around an island

After crossing Frissell Creek, the trail tended to stay fairly close to the river. Because of the thick forest and vegetation, it was not always easy to get the "big picture" of what the river was doing. At times, it seemed that the water flowing below the trail and through the trees had to be a creek instead of the river, although no creeks were nearby according to my GPS. The mild mystery was solved when  the river clearly divided around a heavily wooded island, sending a much smaller volume of river water on the trail side of the island just to confuse me.

Backpacking sites called to me

At a large bend in the river which was hidden from sight by the forest, the trail went high into the woods and temporarily left the river behind. At the four mile mark, the trail crossed a paved forest road before sideswiping a nice backpacking campsite next to the bridge at Deer Creek, The campsite was one of several seen on this hike and all of them were fairly luxurious when compared to my usual meager camping spots when backpacking. I really must come back and backpack the full McKenzie River Trail sometime, but I digress.

The well-engineered bridge at Deer Creek

Deer Creek has carved a rather large and deep valley in the surrounding mountains so I really was expecting a creek commensurately sized to match the geological terraforming. However, the reality is that Deer Creek was just a small creek, nothing more than any of the other creeks already encountered on this hike. The wooden bridge crossing the creek was more impressive though, spanning the comparitively wide canyon. Because of the width of the bridge, it shook and swayed in the middle as I walked across.

The texture of Deer Creek

Deer Creek made for a logical turnaround point, and I ate a quick lunch there while meditating upon the reflecting pools of the small creek. After that, it was back the way I had come, with the same enjoyment of forest, shade, river, flowers, and fungi. By this time, the other side of the river was bathed in sunlight and the bright reflections rippled zen-like on the pools of the various creeks running across the trail.

Sparkling clear water on a small creek

By this time, the last trail runner had long passed by but I still had to step aside every now and then for mountain bikers trundling past. Unlike the trail runners though, their facial expressions said they were enjoying their ride. I couldn't see my facial expression of course, but hopefully it was adequately conveying how enjoyable this hike had been.

My view for most of eight miles

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

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