Siskiyou Wilderness

I hiked to Polar Bear Gap last year and on that hike, I had taken the Black Butte Trail down into the East Fork Illinois River canyon. There were a couple of backpacking campsites down there and I made some comment on my blog about the "...thought of lugging a backpack down and up this rugged terrain nearly made me want to cry with empathy for the abject human misery that particular labor had to have entailed" and while I didn't say it, I probably thought something along the lines of "pity the fools" or something like that. 

Pity the fools!

Well, misery loves company so I sallied forth onto the Black Butte Trail accompanied by Dale, Lane, and Rick; all of us eagerly anticipating 4 lovely days of backpacking pain. Basically, the Black Butte Trail goes downhill, losing a mere 700 feet or so of elevation on its way down to the East Fork's headwaters which doesn't sound particularly daunting. However, we are talking about the Siskiyous, and elevation gain/loss data can be misleading. So naturally, our descent began with a mad charge up the flanks of Black Butte on a rocky chute of a trail.

Snow plant

Despite this being a downhill hike, there were plenty of steep uphill stretches and there were no level spots at all.  Up or down and nothing in between. Since we were starting high above the East Fork, we had great views of the mountains on the opposite side of the canyon. Periodically we'd cross small creeks which were nameless little forks of the East Fork. Forklets, if you will. When we crossed the actual East Fork, Dale posed with one foot on either bank of the Illinois River like Paul Bunyan straddling the mighty Mississippi River.

Dale Bunion

Speaking of Dale, he entertained us all a bit by tripping and rolling downhill off the trail. A small tree wedged its way inconveniently between the back of his head and pack frame and he was flailing away like an upside down darkling beetle trying to regain the upright position. Lane, in his best faux PBS-nature-documentary-announcer voice, narrated "Here we see the turtle attempt to right itself". Three out of four guys laughing means the whole situation was funny and Dale's trail name is now "Turtle".

Young's Valley, our home for 4 days

Fortunately, there were no other pratfalls on the way down and eventually the sketchy trail widened onto an abandoned roadbed. Thankfully, the grade eased up on the old road, demonstrating once more we care more about cars than hikers. A short push up and over a forested saddle took us out of the East Fork Illinois watershed and into the Clear Creek drainage. And just like that, the forest thinned out and we were treated to a jaw-dropping vista of a large meadow reposing in meadowy glory below some tall peaks. We had arrived at idyllic Young's Valley, our home for the next several days. Camp was made next to a huge pile of bear poop at the south end of the meadow but fortunately, no bears came to visit (that we know of) during our stay. My theory is that they were kept away by fear of the large over-sized airplane hangar that was Rick's tent, dubbed "The Chalet" by us ultralighters. I think it even had a disco-ball inside it.

Raspberry Lake

Lane leads the charge to Raspberry Lake

Day 2 dawned bright and beautiful and we headed up the Raspberry Lake Trail. It was easy walking at first, the route following an old mining road above Clear Creek. The only travail was the occasional tree step-over and the plentitude of rocks on the trail. This being the Siskiyous, we were never going to get away from rocky trails.

We all took pictures of each other
taking pictures of each other

Anyway, after a short and easy stretch, the road angled steeply uphill and then the fun began. As we climbed, we were treated to several awesome overlooks of the Clear Creek valley. Below, we could see a grassy hole in the forest and that would be the meadow we were camping at, but from this distance we couldn't quite make out the huge pile of bear poop next to our camp. Above and beyond the meadow rose craggy Young's Peak. On our side of the canyon loomed a rocky wall with a waterfall plummeting off of it and that would be our first introduction to El Capitan. Further to the south were a chain of prominent peaks: Rocky Knob, Twin Peaks, and Bear Mountain. We also had periodic views of the snow-flecked pyramid of Preston Peak.  Much photography ensued.

Rick hikes on the edge and likes it

Cyclone Gap is the site of former mining operations and the trail went narrow at the mine, climbing over slag and debris, some of which included weathered timbers from the mine. On a rocky slope, the trail went faint and sometimes invisible but rock cairns on the slope kept us going in the right direction, which was up. All uppy things turn to down eventually, and the rocky goat path made a precipitous drop down into the Raspberry Lake basin. A backpacking party was coming up the trail and none of the participants were smiling. Must be some of that abject human misery discussed in preceding paragraphs.

Raspberry Lake

Raspberry Lake sits in a rocky bowl on the slopes of Copper Butte and is nothing but scenic and picturesque. The lake was calm and ripples from jumping fish slowly expanded Zen-like across the surface. Such a peaceful place demands an extended lollygag and we obliged, snoozing here and there in the many sunny spots next to the lake.  Eventually, we all wound up on top of a huge boulder overlooking the lake where we did nothing for an hour or so.  It was great!

Heading back to camp

All the ups became downs and vise versa on the way out and it was no easier leaving the lake than it was coming in.  Well, I suppose it was a bit easier once we hit the mining road but we still had to watch for ankle-hungry rocks with each step.

Private Lake

Bear Cub and Polar Bear Mountain 

And then we were three. Lane had to work on Monday so he got to hike out by himself, departing camp to the accompaniment of snickers from the rest of us non-workers (for a few days, anyway). So Rick, Dale, and I head up the Twin Valleys Trail and it didn't even pretend to switchback as it charged straight uphill, the route about as subtle as an AC/DC concert. At least the trail was shady.

Miniature onion (Siskiyou version)

After a mile of that, we plopped in grateful appreciation at a mountain pass that provided great views of neighboring Bear Cub and Polar Bear Mountain. The pass was all serpentinitic rock and the rock gardens were putting on a show what with  quill-leaved lewisia, penstemon, stonecrop, Siskiyou lewisia, and phlox stuffed into cracks in the rock and blooming madly away.

Small pond on the ridge

From the pass, the trail sashayed to and fro atop a bare rocky ridge right below a series of craggy peaks known as The Lieutenants. This was my favorite part of the hike as not only was the trail level, but no trees grew on the ridge which meant we could see all the surrounding peaks and valleys of the Siskiyou Wilderness. Totally awesome! On top of the ridge was a small pond full of tadpoles and just beyond the pond, the trail headed uphill to a second pass. The pass was shady and we stopped to eat lunch there. Just beyond the pass, the trail dropped steeply down into a creek canyon and we were filled with dismay because what goes down would certainly have to come back up.

View toward the Red Buttes

Gluttons for punishment, Rick and I headed down the trail to see what we could see, and boy we could see some stuff. On the horizon were the Red Buttes and below a cliffy overlook, a large meadow was stuffed into a rocky bowl. Across the creek canyon was a tall ridge which this trail would eventually climb up and over for the privilege of dropping down into Twin Valleys. Polar Bear Mountain was prominent, looming over us against a deep blue sky. The trail leaving Twin Valleys would then have to climb up and around the mountain for the privilege of dropping down to Young's Valley. That was a whole lot of serious up and down for one day so we contented ourselves with a visit to a small cirque lake at the canyon's head. The amazing thing about this rugged and challenging trail is that it is part of both the long distance Bigfoot Trail and Coast to Crest Trail systems. All that up and down with a backpack on...ugh!

Private Lake, or else a private lake

The map shows this small lake as an unnamed lake but William Sullivan's "100 Hikes in Southern Oregon" refers to it as Private Lake and so shall I because a lake this special deserves some recognition. Rick and I beat our way through the brush to access the shore and a throng of inquisitive trout checked us out, no doubt curious about the rarely seen visitors to the small body of water. The lake is not very deep and lily pads ringed the shallows along the shoreline.

Day ends on El Capitan

So back we go up the steep trail but that was nothing new on this trip, and we got to enjoy the splendid ridge-top views all over again. On the descent down to Clear Creek and Young's Valley, we better appreciated the steepness of the trail and it suddenly made sense why we had been huffing and puffing so much on the morning climb.

Young's Valley to Black Butte Trailhead

On our way to abject human misery

Day 4 was getaway day and it started pleasantly enough in the early morning. The trail was on the wide mining roadbed and angled gently uphill through the lush and shady forest. And then the easy hiking on a gentle grade ended as the trail began to dole out some of that abject human misery I had mentioned earlier.

Typical Siskiyou Wilderness trail

The hike out was up and down, never level, but more up than down as we climbed out of the East Fork Illinois River canyon. The rocky chute of a trail required we put our heads down and concentrate on where we placed our feet, lest we turn an ankle. Although the out hike was only 6 miles and would gain only about 700 feet of elevation, it sure felt like it was more than both of those stats due to the ruggedness of the trail and surrounding terrain.

Rick crosses the East Fork Illinois River

Actually, it was inadvertently longer than 6 miles because after we crossed an East Fork fork, the old roadbed angled steeply uphill on a mad charge seemingly to the Polar Bear Mountain summit.  It didn't feel right, so Dale and I whipped out our GPS's and quickly deduced we had missed the faint trail at the creek crossing. At least we got some more miles and elevation gain in, sarcasm intended.

Young's Peak, across the East Fork canyon

As we worked our way up the East Fork canyon, the forest thinned out to a sparse concentration of Ponderosa pines and Brewer's weeping spruce, a Siskiyou tree oddity. Scrubby Sadler oaks clawed at our legs as we walked by and several specimens of bright red snow plants were spotted below the trees. This was work and we were soon bathed in a mixed-up goo of sunscreen, sweat, trail dust, and blood (I had taken a pretty good scratch to the back of my hand, thanks to a dead tree). 

Pretty happy for abject human misery!

Despite the travails and trudgery involved in climbing out of the canyon, the views of Young's Peak and Sanger Peak on the other side of the valley were stunning. Further down the canyon, the East Fork opened up to the farmlands and towns of the Illinois Valley with the peaks of the Kalmiopsis Wilderness making for a jagged skyline just beyond. As I had surmised a year ago, there was plenty of "abject human misery" and while I did indeed pity the fools (us),  I must say it was a fantastic 4 days of hiking!

For more pictures of this backpack trip, please visit the Flickr albums:

Day 1
Day 2
Day 3
Day 4

Create Routes or Search for a route from millions at MapMyHike

Create Routes or Search for a route from millions at MapMyHike

Create Routes or Search for a route from millions at MapMyHike

Create Routes or Search for a route from millions at MapMyHike

Azalea Lake backpack

This was a hike of firsts: the first backpack trip this year, the first hike with my new hiking boots, and my first blisters from my new hiking boots. Not all firsts are good things, vis-a-vis the blisters and the first blackfly bites of 2013. This was not my first visit to Azalea Lake however, but it was my first time to the small alpine lake this year and it was also the site of the very first ever Richard-and-Dollie backpack trip. I'm not sure what all these firsts mean but the scenery was certainly first rate on this weekend overnighter.

Starting out

Ray and I had camped at the trailhead on Friday night which translated to an early morning start as we hit the trail just before 7:30. That might have been the first time in my entire life I've done anything before 7:30! At any rate, leg muscles were soon burning after a brisk uphill climb from the trailhead.

Fir Glade

What goes up must come down, a truism that does not always hold true in hiking, but in this case the trail actually did drop down as we hit Fir Glade in just over a mile. Fir Glade is a large and picturesque meadow and it was peacefully quiet early in the morning. We were too early in the season to enjoy the wildflower show as the hellebore was only several inches tall in a sign that snow had just recently melted. A small creek trickled musically through the meadow and we crossed over it on a footbridge.

Thompson Creek Pass, so far away...

From here, the trail climbed steadily through the forest. The trees here are not so densely packed like in the Cascades and we got to enjoy intermittent views of Buck Peak and Whiskey Peak with a clear blue sky overhead. We were contouring a mountain slope well above the Middle Fork Applegate River's valley and occasionally we could peer down into the forested canyon. Unfortunately, we could also see Thompson Creek Pass, our next destination, far away and high above us. I should learn not to look ahead, it's demoralizing.

No, not the Sadler oak...I'll tell you everything...I promise!

The Siskiyious host a number of vegetation oddities and Sadler oak is one of them. This small, waist high bush resembles a rhododendron (the bush, not the flower); extremely rare, it grows only in the Siskiyous where it is quite common. The reason I mention the Sadler oak is because this rare and endangered bush had grown over the trail and I have the leg scratches to prove it. I now know what it feels like to be flayed alive and the heck with waterboarding, an applique of Sadler oak will have the most hardened terrorist spilling state secrets within minutes. I'm not sure if Sadler oak is carnivorous but certainly these specimens were well fed as I walked by.

View down the Middle Fork Applegate

As we neared Thompson Creek Pass, we walked past timberline and and began to enjoy a spectacular view down to Phantom Meadows and the Middle Fork Applegate River with Whiskey, Lake, and Buck Peaks all looming over the deep valley. The views even got better when we actually arrived at the pass and a lengthy gawk-stop was in order.

On top of the world

The pass is a low spot on a narrow ridgecrest and we could simultaneously look down the Middle Fork Applegate River and Thompson Creek valleys with Thompson Creek extending all the way to the Klamath River Valley. Beyond the Klamath rose the snow covered Marble Mountains range. To the west was the prominent cone of Preston Peak with faithful El Capitan standing by in perpetual attendance. To the east was a brush covered ridge with a series of high points and peaks above us with a notch (Azalea Lake Pass) being our next test of manhood.

Brush wading is so much fun (sarcasm!)

We had traded Sadler oak for manzanita and other assorted leg scratchers and skin removers. The parts of my body that still had skin were fair game for biting blackflies and the combination of blood, pain, and itchy welts made me think perhaps I should find a new hobby. The trail was barely visible in the thick brush we were wading through and there was no shade. Fortunately, this stretch of "trail" was only about 1.5 miles long and we plopped down for another gawk-stop at Azalea Lake Pass, which still had a patch of snow on it.

The Red Buttes

Figurehead Mountain was our immediate neighbor and the mountain regally presided over a forested basin containing the green waters of Azalea Lake. From the pass, a jagged ridge crest ran all the way to the prominent knob of Buck Peak. On the other side of the lake basin, Mount Emily and Fruit Mountain flanked the valley of the Butte Fork Applegate River (Azalea Lake is the source of the Butte Fork Applegate). And way down the valley loomed an orangish wall of rock that were the Red Buttes, Kangaroo Mountain, Desolation Peak, and Rattlesnake Mountain. Views like this are why we hike but I still would have liked to have kept more skin on my legs in the process.

Azalea Lake and Figurehead Mountain

A fairly steep descent on a switchbacking trail brought us down to Azalea Lake  just after noon where we set up camp. The rest of the day was spent lazing alongside the clear and pristine lake while small fish jumped. The craggy face of Figurehead Mountain loomed over the lake in a quintessential postcard photo.  We did take a couple of small tours around the lake and explored a meadow chock full of miniature shooting stars and a horse camp seemingly not in use any more. Amazingly, we had the entire lake to ourselves, a rarity for this popular backpacking destination. As a matter of fact, seeing the lake devoid of people was yet another first.

A pineapple?

Being in no hurry the next day, we struck camp mid-morning and began the tedious but short climb out of the lake basin. On the way up, we saw a yellow ground cone, looking all the world like a misplaced pineapple. This was the first time I'd ever seen one.  In another first of dubious note, I also had my first poo-in-the-woods of 2013 and enough said about that. When we arrived at Azalea Lake Pass, we shed our packs as it was time to caper and frolic, backpacking style.

Azalea Lake,  from the rocky knob

Between us and Figurehead Mountain, there was a small rocky knob that just begged to be climbed. Several years ago, a small rattlesnake (that did not seem so small when it was eye-to-eye with Ray) made our previous visit quite memorable. But on this day, there were no lethal viper encounters, just craggy rocks with low-growing flower gardens blooming in the cracks. The views were predictably spectacular while a chilly wind made sure we shivered on the summit.

Yeah, yeah, whatever

Below us, on a barren ridge, was a narrow foot path leading to several promontories on the ridge that just beckoned to the two of us. Answering the Siskiyou siren song, we were off to bag another couple of high spots overlooking Phantom Meadows. The views to Pyramid Mountain were sublime and a good time was had by all. Unfortunately, the new boots caused new blisters on an old foot and Ray bagged a third high point while I sat and watched. Sitting and watching was the hardest part of the hike!  Especially when Ray let out a bunch of jubilant war whoops at the summit in what I perceived to be taunting, despite his theatrically most adamant denials.

Indian paintbrush

Back at the pass, we met the only other person we would run into:  Jerry from Central Point, who said he was hiking alone "...because no one else will hike with me". Boy, do Ray and I know that feeling and it was nice to run into a kindred spirit. Anyway, we enjoyed the views on the way back to the car until we dipped into the forest. After several hours, I arrived, totally exhausted from lugging my pack around. That may have been the first time this year that I felt that way but probably won't be the last.

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