Mount Pisgah

2019

In essence, Mount Pisgah is an urban hike even though it's out in the rural McKenzie Valley farmlands surrounding the small towns of Pleasant Hill and Goshen. The combination of Pisgah's scenery with its proximity to the large city of Eugene predestines it to be in heavy use by the thundering hordes. However, if you go on a dark and dreary day, then you can actually enjoy some quiet moments here and there.

Lichen thrives on an oak twig

The route from the Main Trailhead to the Mount Pisgah summit is a smallish 3.5 mile round-trip hike which in part, explains Pisgah's popularity. But since it's a two hour drive from Roseburg, I needed to make it worth the long drive by figuring out a way to make the route longer. With the help of some online maps, I cobbled together a route involving Trail 17, Trail 7, Trail 3, Trail 4, Trail 1, Trail 6, Trail 56, Trail 3, Zig Zag Trail, Upper Plateau Trail, Jette Trail, Incense Cedar Trail, Quarry Road Trail, Pond Lily Trail, and finally the Tom McCall Riverbank Trail. There'll be a pop quiz in the morning, kids. Needless to say, a good map is essential to precisely navigate the dizzying array of trail junctions. 

Some of the Trail 7 ups and downs

The weather was wet and drizzly, but never quite morphed into out and out rain. Pisgah's summit was hidden in the low clouds so it stood to reason fog would be a large part of my hike, particularly as the route gained enough elevation to enter the mist blanketing the mountain summit. I grabbed Trail 17 not only because it's a prime number but mostly because it connected with Trail 7, also a prime number. The path charged up the hill and within several minutes of hiking, the views were already fantastic as the path overlooked the rural farms, wetlands, and woods situated between the Coast Fork Willamette River and the small town of Goshen.

Still life with leaf and water drop

As stated, the weather was wet and drizzly and I spent an inordinate amount of time trying to take the perfect photograph of water drops hanging on twigs, branches, and tendrils of moss and lichen. After a short uphill walk on Trail 17, I grabbed Trail 7 which went both up and down at a rather rigorous rate. The slopes here consisted of dried grass with leafless oaks etched stark against the gray sky. The valley bottom, dotted with wetland ponds glistening in the dreary air, was spread out like the largest picnic blanket ever. I couldn't really stare at the scenery and walk at the same time, for the trail was muddy and slippery as it undulated up and down on the grassy slopes.

Moss rules the forest

Trail 7 dropped down to the North Trailhead and then began a charge uphill to both meet Trail 3 and to get out of the open slopes and into the forest. Trail 3 was a muddy track that met Trail 4, which commenced the forested portion of this hike. This part of Pisgah probably sees a lot of drizzle moisture, judging by the thick layer of moss covering all that does not move. I made sure to stay in constant motion, so as to avoid becoming just one more indistinct green lump on the forest floor.

Silent woods but for the drip, drip, drip

Here, the woods were mysterious and misty, the trees resembling ghostly spirits from the netherworld. Thick seines of branches strained water from the mist and the resultant drip, drip, drip was a constant accompaniment to what little sound I was making as I labored around the mountain. This was probably my favorite part of the hike. I probably made a little more noise when the trail rounded the mountain and began a pretty good climb up to Pisgah's summit, causing me to breathe more heavily and to mutter invective with ever increasing feeling and frequency.

The clouds begin to lift over Goshen

From the summit, one can allegedly see all the way to the Cascades but on a cloudy day with the summit socked in by fog, not so much. However, neatly coinciding with my arrival at Pisgah's summit apogee, the clouds began to lift and thin out, offering me something to look at besides gray mist. I hung around on the summit for a bit, totally entranced by the ethereal and evocative dance of clouds vainly attempting to retain their misty grip on the lands below the mountain. Little by little, the surrounding farmlands, pastures, and wetlands began to make an appearance. Since I'm old enough to remember tube TVs, the simile is that the landscape gradually swam into focus like a television set warming up.

Mud run on Trail 6

Trail 6 dives off the south side of Pisgah and when it's wet and muddy, it is eminently slippery and on more than one occasion hands and hiking poles were put to use in order to maintain me in my customary upright and erect position. From there, a reunion with Trail 3 took a longer route across the grassy slopes on Pisgah's west side. The trail was rough, rocky, and at times kind of sketchy, and it felt like home.

Trail 3 was rough and rugged, and I liked it

After a couple miles of Trail 3's rugged love, it was time to enter the Mount Pisgah Arboretum trail system. Most of the trails are short little loops or connecting trails that wander about the oaken woods of the aboretum. I grabbed the Upper Plateau Trail only because it had the words "upper" and "plateau" in it. Can't say it was as mountainous as the name suggested but it was a pleasant walk through some oak savannas and a grassy meadow. 

Weathered wood on a rustic water tower

    
The network of arboretum paths gradually dropped down to a series of swamps, ponds, and the Coast Fork Willamette River before closing the loop near some working farm buildings at the trailhead. By using the combination of trails cited earlier, this hike wound up being a respectable 7 miles long and was well worth the drive from Roseburg.

Scene from the winter of our content

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

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McKenzie River Trail

Ah, what a relaxing trail (unless you lose your dog!) this little section of the McKenzie River Trail is. Miles and miles of vine maples providing ample shade, tall Douglas fir trees reaching to the sky, a rushing river just off trail, and rustic bridges crossing merrily burbling creeks. If that doesn't ease your stress, nothing will. Of course, some of that stress release was negated by the worry caused by a missing dog, but more on that little episode later.

Twinkling green stars overhead

Luna (the aforementioned bad doggy) and I set out from Belknap Hot Springs Resort and were immediately rewarded with a lush and cool forest. The day was hot everywhere else in southern Oregon but the river moisture in the air; the shade from the trees; and a mild breeze, kept hikers and bikers cool. If word ever gets out about this, there'll be hundreds of thousands of people sitting under the trees, sighing contentedly in blessed relief from the heat wave currently cooking the Pacific Northwest. 

Indian pipe

The McKenzie River Trail (hereafter referred to as the MRT because it's too long to type out over and over again) is a National Recreation Trail, because it contributes to "...health, conservation, and recreation goals in the United States." To which I ponder "But don't they all?" but that's just me talking. At any rate, the MRT is close to Eugene, easily accessible from the McKenzie Highway, and proffers up  some pretty cool scenery and a classic river flowing just off trail. Mountain bikers love the trail and hikers have to get used to stepping aside for the bikes but in my experience, both hikers and bikers are polite and get along just fine. The main drawback to the MRT, in my humble opinion, is that the trail lacks that wilderness feel.

The McKenzie River Trail soothes on a warm day

For the first section from Belknap Hot Springs, the trail parallels the nearby McKenzie Highway. The sound of whooshing cars is clearly audible but if you plug your ears and/or ignore the sounds, the forest is simply beautiful. Small little side creeks rush into the McKenzie River and rustic one-railed log bridges span the creeks. I crossed the creeks on the bridges while Luna joyfully splashed across, as is her wont. And speaking of rushing into the the McKenzie River, Luna did plenty of that too.

Hey you! I'm taking a picture of you!

We stopped for a brief view-soak on a rocky bar next to the river. The McKenzie River gets its inception at the remarkable Great Spring at Clear Lake; the spring being noteworthy for the striking blue color and crystalline clarity of the water. As the Great Spring's love child, the McKenzie River sports both these traits. Rafters came through the rapids above the bar, intensely focused on navigating the roiling river and on keeping their crafts right side up. That's probably why they didn't wave at us or smile for the camera.

Bridge crossing at Scott Creek

After a couple of miles, the trail crossed both Scott and Boulder Creeks and then spit us out of the forest and onto the shoulder of the McKenzie Highway. Like I said, not really your basic wilderness hike. But not to worry, after about 20 yards, the route crossed over to the other side of the river on paved Forest Road 2560. Now that there was a noisy river between us and the equally noisy highway, we enjoyed that "real hike" ambience that can only be found on a forest path. We still had to step aside for a steady stream of mountain bikers, though.

The McKenzie River was always next to the trail

Mostly this hike was all about the forest as the river was only occasionally and partially visible through the dense stands of vine maple. There was no particular destination to hike to, although Deer Creek would have made a logical turnaround at 6 miles out. However, we turned around where the McKenzie divided around a rocky island at the 4 mile mark.

Bad doggy!

Luna had been such a good dog, too. She had stayed within eyesight and dutifully obeyed my commands to stay close. But she has no filters for right and wrong, and is as impulsive as a late-night tweeter. Just like that, she was no longer visible ahead of me and I really wasn't sure when or where she had disappeared from sight. I assumed, because she walks a lot faster than I do, she had gotten far out in front of me so I picked up my pace trying to catch up to her.  After a mile or so, it was obvious she was clearly lost from me.

Vine maples doing the vine maple thing

Worried at this point, I even turned back and walked the mile back but still no Luna. Sick at heart at the thought of her having to be all alone in the forest, my next plan was to walk to the car and wait to see if she'd show up or not. If that proved fruitless, I had no plan for what to do afterwards. 

Cold and clear, just like me!

The MRT is a busy place with all the hikers and bikers but of course, I walked for miles and miles without seeing a soul. Finally, after I crossed over to highway side of the river, a family came walking up the trail. Unfortunately, they hadn't seen a stupid black dog walking by herself. They were really quite sympathetic to my plight and as they commiserated, their son interrupted "Mister, is that your dog?" and here comes Luna trotting down the trail, relief palpable in her body posture.

Huckleberry, not quite ready for eating

Mind you, we had been separated for at least two miles. She had to navigate past two trailheads, cross one forest road, follow a paved road across the river, and safely walk next to the highway before she caught up with me. Quite a testament to her innate navigational ability. Or, if she followed me by sense of smell, quite a testament to my man-funk! Either way, our reunion was joyous and she remained leashed for the remainder of the hike. She'll probably remain leashed for all future hikes, too.

Sun dappling

No longer toting that cold orb of dread in the pit of my stomach, the remainder of the hike was much more relaxed as we returned to Belknap Hot Springs. I did notice though, that when Luna found me, she was soaking wet. She couldn't have been all that worried if she still could indulge in another dip in the river. The stress was all mine, apparently.

The McKenzie River

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

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William L. Finley National Wildlife Refuge

Oh, I had such grandiose plans for this hike. By combining loop trails and roads, it was possible to cobble together a 12'ish mile hike through the William L. Finley National Wildlife Refuge near the small town of Monroe. But alas, "Closed for Winter Breeding" signs confined hikers to a small corner of the refuge and my 12'ish miler became a 6 miler instead. Oh well, I guess I'll have to come back at some future date and hopefully there'll be no spring or summer breeding closures to contend with.

Booga booga!

Dollie and I had hiked here many many years ago and my recollection was of large flocks of geese surrounding numerous ponds and swamps. Memory being what it is, that wasn't entirely accurate for the two loop trails I took this time out spent most of their miles inside lush oak and maple forest. There were a few swamps however, with miles and miles of boardwalk to keep feet out of them. I didn't see any geese, they were probably having a goose orgy in the closed section of the refuge. I know I would too, if I were a goose. And stop with the "But Richard, you are a goose!" comments already!

Staghorn fungus sprouting through the moss

The drive to the Woodpecker Loop Trailhead was interesting. The weather was not great what with cold temps, gray sky, and falling rain and all that rain collected in a marshy lowland which happened to be the same marshy lowland that Finley Road ran through. It doesn't take much water for my KIA to start swimming and Finley Road was quite the daunting challenge, being underwater with the brown water coming up to the bottom of the doors. I'm glad to say the car made the wade as I really sweated the outcome.

Some kind of view!

The Woodpecker Loop headed gradually uphill through a forest of scraggly and leafless oaks. A dilapidated wooden stand underneath a massive oak provided what would normally be a great view across the Willamette Valley. Clouds, mist, and winter breeding took care of the view on this day however, I'll probably have a greater appreciation for the panorama when I come back.

You had me at "Hill"

A short walk through a grassy pasture past some ponds of gray-brown water and a creek or two of the same colored water brought me to the Intertie Trail, a short path that connects the Woodpecker Loop with the Mill Hill Loop. Not knowing too much about the refuge, the "Hill" in Mill Hill appealed to me so off on the Intertie I went.

Boardwalks abounded

The forests are surprisingly lush which shouldn't be all that surprising given the amount of standing and running water underneath the trees. And equally unsurprisingly, all the standing water supported a healthy population of blackberry vines, ferns, moss, and assorted fungi. Didn't see any wildlife though, they were probably all having fun in the closed-off other three-fourths of the refuge.

On the Intertie Trail

The trail was nicely picturesque as it wended its way through dense oak and maple stands. The path was carpeted with a thick layer of soggy dead leaves in an indication that the autumn display has to be quite colorful here. One more reason and season to come back for another visit!

Maze of branches

Disappointingly, the Mill Hill Loop did not go to the top of the hill, instead choosing to perambulate around the base. But the hits kept on coming as each new curve in the trail revealed more forest, dead leaves, and running little creeks. One such creek took over the trail and boots finally got both wet and muddy, always a sign of a good hike.

A swampy piece of Gray Creek

Below the trail was a basin full of leafless trees under a gloomy sky. The map said Gray Creek was down there but the creek was well hidden by the thick vegetation. When I finally got to see Gray Creek, it was easy to see how the creek got its name because the water was as gray as a zombie's complexion.

Refuge headquarters

For extra mileage, I grabbed a small loop that led to the refuge headquarters, a collection of ranch buildings with a sodden flag hanging limply on a flagpole. By this time the air was quite wet. It wasn't really rain but the atmosphere definitely had a heavy liquidity to it that had me wishing I'd brought the man-gills. Below the headquarters was what was termed the "display pond" although the only thing displayed was brown water.

Slipping and sliding on a muddy trail

A return to the Woodpecker Loop finished off this hike. After peeling off wet layers of clothing it was time to make the scary drive out. I again held my breath crossing the swamp over Finley Road but we made it. After the rains subside, it'll be a less risky drive which will be one more reason to come visit the refuge again.

Mill Hill Trail

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

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Lowder Mountain

So Richard, where did you go hiking?

I said "Lowder! And why are you yelling at me?" Yeah, yeah, I know...weak pun but that's my tortured segue into a discussion about hiking on Lowder Mountain and I'm sticking to it.

Prince's pine

The night before, I had enjoyed some good music at Sam Bond's Garage, which is rapidly becoming a second home away from home now that I'm retired. So while the concert was pretty cool (even though it was Lowd), it made for a very late night by the time I drove back to Roseburg. And since late nights are not conducive to early morning risings, especially in my retirement years, it stood to reason that any hiking done the day after would have to be late in starting, and moderate in length and ambition. Ergo, I began my hike on Lowder Mountain at the shameful hour of 2:00PM, and why are you yelling at me?

Beautifully shaded trail

After just 5 yards of hiking, it was apparent that the main attraction (for the time being) would be the lush forest. Green vegetation and dark shade was the theme and the forest floor was carpeted with green leaves and delicate accents of foamflower sprays. Fragrant heart-shaped leaves of wild ginger hid the ugly brown flowers underneath, but I knew how to find them. Large clumps of pink woodland phlox and prince's pine were abloom on the forest floor and a profound hush permeated through the trees. Yes, I said hush, there was nary a mosquito whine to be heard and I almost missed the little buggers.

Vine maple provides green-colored ambiance

The trail climbed up through the forest in a series of switchbacks but the grade was fairly gentle. The map said I was walking above Quaking Aspen Swamp which I looked forward to exploring. However, the thick forest prevented access and vision thereof, no swamp or quaking aspen for me. But a dense canopy of vine-maple leaves colored the air green and kept the temperature mild; life was good on the trail despite the lack of quaking, aspens, or swamps. Periodically, the trail would enter open meadows clinging to the slopes of Lowder Mountain, where columbine, tiger lily, and coneflower bloomed the day away under a cobalt blue sky. 

Meadow on Lowder Mountain's slopes

As the trail gained elevation, the trend was toward less forest and more meadows. And with the meadows came views of the deep valleys of the South Fork McKenzie River, one of which contained Cougar Reservoir hiding below. One of the mountains on the other side of Cougar Reservoir is called Deathball Mountain and I would love to know the story behind that name! With a moniker like that, I should climb it and just make up the story of how it got its name. It would save me some tedious factual research!

Zen moment

In a grassy meadow, a worn down trail sign marked the intersection with the trail leading to Yankee Mountain and then down to Cougar Reservoir in a knee-taxing descent. I looked on the map and the trail either loses or gains elevation, depending which way you are hiking it. Either way, the elevation change is 3,300 feet in 1.9 miles: whew! With stats like that, that particular trail just got on my list for future hikes!

Just follow the cairns

Anyway, after the intersection, the Lowder Mountain Trail started to climb in earnest, leaving the meadows behind and entering anew a dark and shady forest. Again, switchbacks kept the grade manageable for the most part. Suddenly, the trail spit me out onto an unexpected pumice barren and my eyes squinted myopically in the bright sunlight. The trail became somewhat faint but there were a series of rock cairns to keep me on track.

The Three Sisters

Horsepasture Mountain across the East Fork
South Fork McKenzie River canyon

Karl and Ruth Lakes

Lowder Mountain doesn't seem like much of a mountain when you are hiking on it as the summit is as large and flat as an Arizona mesa. The trail really became hard to follow in the vegetation as it went around a rather large and sparse meadow ringed by trees. The meadow (and Lowder Mountain, too) abruptly ended at a very tall cliff and the view from that rocky perch is why we hike. The snowcapped peaks of Middle Sister and North Sister hugged each other in permanent sisterhood while South Sister stood by her aloof self . Beyond green and forested Horsepasture Mountain rose Mount Jefferson and a cloud bank on the distant Columbia River hid Mount Hood from view. In between were lesser peaks such as Three-Fingered Jack, Mount Washington, Belknap Crater and Broken Top. To the south, the tip of Diamond Peak was visible. And directly below, Karl and Ruth Lakes lay in a forested basin. A view for the ages, once again!

Thimbleberry was everywhere

As I left, another hiker emerged from a nearby viewpoint and I greeted him with a "I thought I had the mountain to myself!" He smiled and replied "Well, I was here first". He was Brian, from Eugene, and we happily talked trails on the way back from the mountain, making the miles go by quickly. When we reached the trailhead I asked him "What was the name of this mountain, again?"

Golden yarrow

"Lowder", he helpfully replied.

"What was the name of this mountain, again?"

He seemed to be such a nice guy too, but he did leave in a hurry for some reason. He didn't even say good-bye but that's OK, his actions spoke Lowder than words. 

Cow parsnip catches some afternoon light

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

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Little Belknap Crater

"Take me to Mordor!" So said daughter Anjuli as we were discussing hiking destinations. Apparently, she had been browsing hikes on the Internet and had found some pictures of "Mordor" and wanted me to take her hiking in the stark black rock moonscape. To explain what she meant, she showed me the photos she had come across and I just had to laugh: The pictures were mine, taken on a prior trip to Little Belknap Crater!

Little Belknap Crater just got a little taller

McKenzie Pass is situated between the massive volcanoes of the Three Sisters and much older Mount Washington. All the magma burbling miles below our feet has spawned an underground industry of all kinds of cinder cones, pun intended. It is somewhat ironic that it is not the giant volcanoes of the Three Sisters but instead the seemingly insignificant little cones that have produced the massive rivers of hardened lava in the McKenzie Pass area. The lava flows are basically nature's asphalt blacktop and just like the Walmart parking lot, not much grows through the pavement. Just miles and miles of black jagged rock that explains Anjuli's Mordor reference. That, and she's my daughter, too.

My people

Little Belknap Crater is just a little red pimple in the lava fields, dwarfed by nearby (big) Belknap Crater. The hike to the crater on the Pacific Crest Trail is fairly easy and eminently spectacular, the short 5 mile round trip is perfect for children: so grandchildren Daweson, Issiah, and Coral Rae came along with Anjuli, with me being the biggest kid of all!

Suitably awestruck by Black Crater

Leaving McKenzie Pass behind, the Pacific Crest Trail headed up through two tree islands, created when hot lava surrounded a couple of high points, forever isolating the forest on the high points. Once we left the forest, we were treated to an awesome view consisting of the PCT winding up through miles of rock towards Belknap Crater, colored the same tan hue as the cat vomit on the living room carpet that I pretend not to see so Dollie will have to clean it up. In unison, the kids uttered an awestruck "wow!" and I silently patted myself on the back in self-aggrandizing satisfaction.

Heading towards Belknap Crater

It was somewhat of an uphill slog so it wasn't like the kids scampered carefree up the trail, progress was slow and steady through the incredibly rough lava field. We got to see lava in many forms such as the boot-eating jagged rock created when foamy lava hardened before it could melt down like bubble bath foam in a drained bathtub. Thick rolls and braids, resembling the belly folds of a sumo wrestler, were where currents of thick viscous magma once flowed. Lava tubes were a common sight and the kids were tempted to go exploring the tubes like the little geomonkeys they are.

Little Belknap Crater

After a couple of miles of this and right below Belknap Crater, a trail sign marked the intersection with the Little Belknap Trail, the white wood of the sign visually at odds with all the black rock. Seen from McKenzie Pass, Little Belknap Crater had been barely distinguishable in the lava flows but up close, it didn't look so little any more and it was mostly red colored too. The kids clambered nimbly up the slippery slope, stopping to explore a couple of large lava tubes. They were thrilled to enter one and appear about 30 yards downstream, their heads popping up out of the rock like unsuspecting moles in a Whack-a-Mole game.

View of Little Belknap Crater's lava flow

Little Belknap, as previously mentioned, is a small and insignificant pimple surrounded by large and majestic volcanoes and cinder cones. However, the views are anything but small and insignificant, situated as it was in the middle of all the geologic action. Snow capped North and Middle Sister, the two massive volcanoes dominating the view to the south. To the north was pointy Mount Washington, the peak being the inspiration for Anjuli's earlier Mordor reference. Beyond Mount Washington was the tip of Three Fingered Jack with snowy Mount Jefferson just beyond Jack and his three fingers. And all around were rivers of black rock, permanently frozen in time. Just an awesome panorama and kids, both young and old, enjoyed the view.

North and Middle Sister, on the way back

After a lazy lunch, we headed back the way we came, down through the miles of black and jagged rock. The only difference was that we were gawking at the two Sisters the whole way down, instead of gawking up at Belknap Crater like we did on the incoming leg. I'm glad to report a good time was had by all and no orcs were harmed on our hike to Mordor.

Mordor (actually, it's Mount Washington)

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

Always have time for a selfie!

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