North Bank Habitat

It's a surreal experience, this living life during a pandemic, isn't it? The other day I was watching the news, something I do a lot more of these days, and in between reporting the gloomy state of the world, the channel took a commercial break and an advertisement for Febreze air freshener came on, complete with perky jingle, like there was nothing at all unusual about the situation we all find ourselves in. Thousands are dying but hey, you do want some air freshener to remove that annoying pandemic stink, don't you?

Bird's eye view of the picnic area lawn

Now I don't really blame Febreze, after all they need people to buy their product or else they go out of business. It is fighting for its survival just as we are fighting for ours. But that sort of illustrates the situation we find ourselves in, living in fear that has so many aspects of normality, the normality thereof being jarringly abnormal during these dire times. For instance, here in Douglas County, while people are staying at home more than usual, nobody I know here has yet contracted the virus. So, I'm gardening, cooking dinner, mowing the lawn, picking my nose, etc; engaged in all these routine activities with a sense of dread as I wait for the plague to travel down I-5 to devastate and ravish our little corner of of the Oregon sandbox. It's like the slowest moving disaster ever. And speaking of slow moving disasters, I recently busted out of quarantine and went hiking at the North Bank Habitat.

Quietude

The National Forest Service and the Bureau of Land Management (BLM) had recently closed down all "developed" trailheads and campgrounds in Oregon and Washington so as to comply with the stay-at-home order issued by each state. It's kind of ironic because hiking is the ultimate in social distancing and is healthy both on a physical and mental basis. But having seen the goobers congregating en masse at trailheads, I absolutely comprehend why they felt the need to shut everything down. I made a round of phone calls asking about the possibility of hiking in "undeveloped" areas and was told absolutely no way but was also told they were not going to stop people from hiking, just from congregating. Well, that provided a legal loophole wide enough to stride completely through with trekking poles in hand, so off to the nearby North Bank Habitat Management Area I went to hike or get into trouble, or all of the above.

The world within

There were only one or two cars parked along North Bank Road outside the Habitat's locked gate and I added my vehicle to the impromptu parking lot. After getting geared up, I walked around the gate and headed up a gravel road to the actual trailhead, halfway expecting the SDP (Social Distance Police) to arrest me. As I started walking, it was a mostly sunny day with plenty of clouds puffing along in the blue sky above. The temperature was chilly though, and I began to doubt the wisdom of hiking in shorts and a sleeveless vest, but was too lazy to stop for a wardrobe change.

An Oregon wasp harvests an English daisy

Spring was beginning here at the Habitat, and I spent more than one occasion lying prone in the wet grass to take photos of buttercup, English daisy, red-stemmed storksbill, saxifrage, popcorn flower, dandelion, and Oregon grape, just to namedrop a few. I also saw my first stinky Bob of the year, a small member of the geranium family that has nothing to do with my friend Bob who may also stink, but nobody that I know of refers to him as stinky Bob except maybe his wife. Also of photographic interest was a varied population of winged bees, flies, and wasps visiting the aforementioned flowers. Obviously, this was going to be a slow hike!

For me, this path had that alluring new trail smell

From the East Pavilion, there are a myriad of trail options to choose from, radiating from the picnic area like spidery spokes on a wheel. Today's trail of choice was the Deer Hollow Tie Trail, simply because I'd never been on it. Maybe if I was lucky, the trail wouldn't be steep. Ha, like that would ever happen in the North Bank!

View to the Soggy Bottom drainage

After a short and relatively level walk to a muddy and grassy swale, the Deer Hollow Tie Trail immediately inclined upward in keeping with that quaint North Bank tradition of punishing all who dare to hike there. My leg muscles were not appreciative of that at all! But as the trail gained elevation, the view peering up the Jackson Creek drainage improved and there were lots of contemplative view soaks that were more than adequate compensation for the sweet misery of walking uphill.

Was this a great cloud day or what?

Simply said, this was a great cloud day. Above the rolling hills and creek valleys, small puffy white clouds scudded against a deep blue sky. Because the clouds formed and reformed constantly, the view changed every few minutes as sunlit patches and cloud shadows moved across the hilly landscape. Over the higher ridges of the Habitat, darker and more ominous clouds hovered, causing me to believe rain just might be in my future. 

Two steps forward, one slippery step back

What was in my more immediate future, though, was mud. The trail was damp and the resulting mud was slippery slick, making the labor of walking uphill that more taxing as I constantly fought for traction on the wet soil. I'm glad to report I remained upright for the entire walk up to Middle Ridge, despite a close call or two.

Hey hiker dude, you look like our next meal!

The trail alternated between open grassy slopes and shady woods. In the forest, I spied a couple of turkeys frantically running to get away from the scary hiker. Buzzards floated overhead on upwelling wind currents to check on whether I was going to keep on hiking or succumb to the rigors thereof. I'm also very glad to report I disappointed the gracefully soaring vultures.

The river perambulates around Whistlers Bend

After a couple of miles of this, the trail leveled out and spit me out onto a grassy ridge with a stunning view of local landmark Whistlers Bend, a prominent horseshoe-shaped oxbow in the North Umpqua River. Beyond Whistlers Bend and flanking the river, a scenic jumble of wetlands, pastures, and farms sprawled across the landscape. Of course, all of this lay under a constantly shifting tapestry of clouds as resultant sunbeams and shadows danced and flitted over the terrain. The view was awesome and this new previously unhiked (by me) trail might just become a favorite of mine.

I hate hiking!

I was somewhat disappointed to reach the intersection with the West Barn Road because from prior experience, I knew what trail travail awaited me. After a totally misleading pleasant meander through a copse of still leafless oak trees, a steep hill loomed straight ahead, looking like an attractive grassy wall, but a wall nonetheless no matter how pretty it might appear. And unfortunately, the trail went straight up it, with nary a pretense of a switchback. Sigh, sometimes I really think I should get an easier hobby. Steeling myself with resolve, I plodded wearily up the trail where I was rewarded with another view of Whistlers Bend.

Roseburg and Sutherlin were getting rained on

To the west, the clouds were portentuous, ominous, and dark with tendrils of rain clearly visible underneath the cloud cover. If any of that were to drift my way, I'd most assuredly be in for a wet time. Additionally, I'd be much colder than I already was, because a chill wind washed up from the valleys below, sweeping over the bare ridge (Middle Ridge) I was hiking on. I was still too lazy to stop for a wardrobe change, though. In their own menacing way, the moody clouds were absolutely spectacular as they gloomed over the scenery, and much photography ensued. A bit of rain ensued as well, but the shower only lasted a minute or two and would wind up being the only rain that fell on my little parade.

The North Gate Road took me down into the valley

At about the five-mile mark, all the bad uphill stopped when Middle Ridge Road intersected with North Gate Road. I grabbed North Gate Road for my egress off of exposed and breezy Middle Ridge, and that's when all the bad downhill started. My usual North Bank routes generally have me hiking up North Gate Road and that is one nasty steep trail that has had me muttering, on more than one occasion, about why on earth did I ever decide hiking was a worthy way to spend my time. Based on today's experience, it's not much better going downhill as knees and leg muscles both get taxed by the constant braking on the descent. 

Yup, I hit the ground on this stretch of muddy trail

The route down to Soggy Bottom was unsurprisingly muddy and I had three mud-ski experiences and one pratfall on the descent. I was somewhat amused by the pratfall because on my way down to the ground, I involuntarily uttered something that sounded a lot like a Klingon mating call "Qopbogh meQ jImuSHa'mo' tuj chenmoH mud!" I wonder why those tortured larynx-spraining vowels even came out of my mouth because it wasn't like anybody was going to hear me and if they did, it wasn't really any sound that could translate into anything intelligible or meaningful, unless that anybody happened to be Klingon. At any rate, me and the muddy trail were not very socially distant at that particular point in time.

Portentous

Once down to Soggy Bottom, I hiked past a woman riding a horse while her two dogs walked behind the end of the horse that should always be more socially distant. At that point, I put the camera away and focused on hiking quickly to stay ahead of the horseback party. Just call me socially distant, much to the chagrin of the two dogs.

Red currant pinked up the trail

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

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North Bank Deer Habitat - Soggy Bottom/Blacktail Basin Loop

Normally, when I hike in cold weather, I usually start out somewhat underdressed. The reason is that once hiking commences, the exertion soon gets the old body warmed up. So, if I am nice and warm at the outset, then I'm roasting and sweltering underneath all the layers of outerwear within a few minutes. It's more convenient to start out slightly cold and then warm up to a comfortable stasis and avoid all that having to stop and shed clothing while your comrades leave you behind. But then again, there are days like this hike at the North Bank Habitat, where I had to stop in less than a quarter-mile of hiking and hurriedly put on layers because it was freezing cold and starting out with minimal protection was not one of my better moves.

Squish, squish go the boots

Once I was properly clad with ski cap, mittens, muffler, and a down jacket, the hike continued on in earnest to a broad grassy swale known as Soggy Bottom, which was not named to memorialize that time that I ate too many dried apricots. Soggy Bottom is appropriately named however, because a creek runs through it while every other square inch of soil in the swale seeps ample moisture into the creek. They've been doing some habitat restoration lately and the jeep road that serves as the trail had been all chewed up by ATVs. All that seepage had turned the dirt road into a muddy quagmire of boot-sucking doom and that turned out to be one of the main themes of this hike. Much or most of the nearly eight miles of hiking were spent slogging and sliding through the goo. Periodically, the thick mud would accrue on the underside of my footwear, and I lumbered clumsily forward on boots with six-inch soles of thick clay like some incredibly handsome Frankenstein.

Smile for the camera!

A new livestock gate had been installed over the trail at Soggy Bottom and a sign above an electronic gizmo attached to the gatepost advertised the whole setup was part of a wildlife survey. I assumed the gizmo was a trail camera and one must respect the fine work the wildlife biologists do, so naturally I made funny faces and did my one-footed "running man" pose in front of the presumed camera. As I walked, I pondered the form or format of the survey, imagining a clipboard-toting someone polling wildlife about their political preferences. Preliminary results say hooved creatures are all in for Deernald Trump, bears will throw their weight behind Joe Bear-den, and the mountain lions think all candidates taste equally good.

Mud was a recurring theme on this hike

All trails in the Habitat go uphill, it's just a question of gradient. Because hiking in the mud was pretty tedious, I opted for the route of least resistance. Soggy Bottom Road still goes uphill but not as quickly as some of the other pain-filled trails around here. It's kind of like whether you prefer chiltepin chiles over habaneros. Either way, there is same-day and day-after burning pain involved but it's mostly a question of degree and flavor.

Grand vistas are to be had in the North Bank

As the trail climbed up and away from Soggy Bottom, the higher ridges were hidden in the cloud cover. Great, my hike was going to wind up being both cold and foggy. However, as I gained elevation, so did the clouds and by the time I crested at the intersection with Powerline Road, the cloud cover had lifted off the ridges. That was a good thing because one of the main reasons for laboring up the Habitat's steep trails are the views that reward determined hikers. 

View down Soggy Bottom

Accordingly, the drainages of both Jackson Creek and Soggy Bottom lay well below the trail in all their awesome view glory. Grassy hills, forested ridges, and deep creek valleys rolling all the way to the farmlands surrounding the North Umpqua River. It was enough to make me forget I was cold and tired and I daresay I even felt spritually, if not physically, energized and replenished by the superb vistas from the top. More replenishment took place at Grumpy's Pond where a quick meal was consumed. For some reason, the name Grumpy's Pond reminds me of my ex-wife, not sure exactly why that is.

Grumpy's Pond and no frogs

One little oddity I noticed was that when I was coming up Soggy Bottom Road, the frogs were croaking en masse like some amphibian tabernacle choir in the creek canyons running down the grassy slopes. However, at Grumpy's Pond, where there exists an ample and stable water supply, there was nary a croak to be heard. The water was colored an unappealing gray so that might explain it, or maybe the frogs eschewed the acerbically humored pond for waters that were in a better mood.

A thick stand of oak trees

At a trail junction atop North Boundary Ridge, there are several options for a return loop and I grabbed the most gentle way back, that being the descent through Blacktail Basin. The basin is dotted with oak trees, still leafless this time of year, and poison oak growing underneath effectively discouraged any off-trail exploration. Blue jays squawked in noisy abundance and alder trees, leafless like the oaks, sported thousands of dangling flower tassels in a harbinger of spring.

I got "ticketed"

Once the trail descended into basin, it was several miles of mostly level walking next to Jackson Creek running through an oak savanna. After closing the last gate (and making more funny faces at a wildlife survey camera), I entered the parking lot and noticed a white piece of paper fluttering underneath my windshield wiper. A ticket? Here? Really? What on earth for? There's no fee for parking at the Habitat! Turned out it was a note from friends John and Bill who apparently were also hiking in the North Bank Habitat. "Hey Dude, got mud?" it said. I promptly walked back to the trail gate and held it up in front of the wildlife survey camera. I'm so easily amused sometimes.

How to tell it was a good hike

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

North Bank Deer Habitat 12/2015

I have met my nemesis and it is cheesecake. I was good at Christmas dinner and ate just one small slice of the calorie-laden carb-infused delicious goo-on-a-pie-crust. However, the leftovers mysteriously wound up inside our refrigerator and just as mysteriously, a large portion was consumed by some anonymous sugar-eater. It surely wasn't me and that is my story and I'm sticking to it. However, just to be sure, the day after Christmas was an opportune time for yet another calorie burning hike in the North Bank.

Leafless oak on a winter morn

The weather had not been very hiker-friendly in December but there was a short break in the deluges the day after Christmas and grandson Aiden and I were appreciative of the dry weather, although it could have been just a tad bit warmer. Actually, it could have been a lot warmer as the temperature was well below freezing as we set out in the early morning. Aiden was sporting a lot of warm weather clothing, courtesy of Santa Claus. I had received a lightweight hammock and rainfly as my reward for being nice all year (stop with the snickering, already) but the hammock is of little use in cold weather. Aiden must have been nicer for a larger part of the year.

Don't want to talk about it

At any rate, it was a frosty walk to the wet lowland sporting the hilarious name of Soggy Bottoms. I told Aiden that Soggy Bottoms was my nickname in grade school but I didn't want to talk about it. For added emphasis, I hung my head down as if in shame. Without missing a beat, he dropped his head down and said "It happened to me, too". He's from my gene pool, he can't help it.

Ice, waiting for the boy

We took the Soggy Bottoms Road because it is the easiest way to get up to the high ridges of the preserve. Any other trail would be a grueling test of manhood but the Soggy Bottoms Road settles for for merely going uphill. The air was crisp and ice crunched under our feet as we walked. Frozen puddles offered a certain grandson the opportunity of noisily cracking the ice crust.

The pooologist

The habitat's sole reason for existence is to preserve a herd of endangered Columbia white-tailed deer and we saw several deer scampering through the woods of Soggy Bottoms. The cougars consider the habitat to be their fast-food restaurant and we stopped to examine some predator poo which contained hair, bone bits, and maybe a white tail or two. I'm just saying, but pooing bone bits...yikes!

Bad creek!

As we walked, we had to ford several creeks while blue jays shrieked at us as annoyingly shrill as a sister. Soggy Bottoms was just that, and the water laden hillsides had slid down over the trail in a couple of spots. The swollen creeks had taken out part of the road beds here and there and the maintenance crew will have a lot of work to do once things dry out a bit.

Trail, at snow line

"What is that thing?" asked Aiden.  It was white and small, about the  size of a silver dollar. When we picked it up, it was hard but extremely cold.  Yes, it was our first glimpse of snow on Soggy Bottoms. As we reached the head of the valley, we were walking in perma-shade and more and more snow appeared along the trail. We are not talking ski-country snow and snow shoes certainly were not needed, but it was fairly unusual to see the white stuff lying below the leafless oaks.

Why we hike

As the trail left Soggy Bottoms and began angling uphill to the northern ridge, the air temperature dropped considerably and we encountered more and more snow and ice on the way. The views improved as we gained elevation with layers and layers of snow covered peaks dotting the horizon to the south. By the time we reached the Powerline Road and Grumpy's Pond, we were hiking in a veritable winter wonderland. The hills were bald and covered in white (just like my head!) and we enjoyed the scenery as we ate a hurried lunch at Grumpy's Pond. We were not the only ones lunching however, a lone hawk patrolled the snowy fields in search of a tasty mammal morsel.

One small leap for boykind...

Aiden started out being fairly ambitious at the start of the hike and was game for a 10 miler. However, his youthful enthusiasm waned once we reached the top of the boundary ridge. All that puddle stomping had wet his feet and he was getting both tired and uncomfortable so we grabbed the Blacktail Basin Road, which sadly took us out of the snow and down into the soggy bottom of the basin. And thus began the descent and a few moments of wet hilarity at a creek mishap.

Creek, crossing the trail

Because of the long run of wet weather, creeks were full and there was a particularly deep creek running across the trail in Blacktail Basin. I just waded through but Aiden bushwhacked downstream in search of a narrower crossing. The perfect spot for a leap across was found and he took off his hat and lobbed it across the creek. He tried to take off his brand spanking new Christmas winter jacket but the daypack was in the way so he sort of removed both at the same time. Grabbing a shoulder strap, he slung the pack across the creek. Unfortunately, the jacket was still entangled in the pack and while the pack sailed across the creek, the jacket separated in mid-air and floated down into the icy stream. I didn't know jackets could float like that and I didn't know Aiden could run along the bank that fast either. The jacket was safely plucked from the water just as it was about to go over a 4 foot waterfall and disappear forever.  

Tree under the incoming clouds

From there it was a quick walk back to the car as clouds scudded over and took away the blue sky. Obviously, it's time for another round of winter storms, darn it.

We walked in a winter wonderland

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

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North Bank Deer Habitat 11/2015

It's always the wife. I know, because I'd been ill with the flu crud for a couple of weeks and had my fill of daytime true crime TV shows. The husband thinks he has a happy marriage and is blissfully unaware that his "loving" wife has been lacing his Jello with Lemon Pledge furniture wax, he just thinks he has the flu crud while his wife knits in the rocker, looking at him and smiling that unsettling smile. The poor guy has absolutely no idea what his scheming wife is up to.  And there I am, thinking I have just the flu crud, and Dollie is just sitting there in the rocking chair, knitting and intensely watching me with an odd little smile on her face. She offers me Jello and I run out of the house screaming. Better to get out on the trail, where it is safe.

Issiah sets sail

Because of that aforementioned flu crud making its way around Roseburg, it'd been several weeks since I'd exercised in any way shape or form so a short hike in the North Bank Deer Habitat with the hiking club fit the bill for my reintroduction to the rigors of the trail. Issiah, my 10 year old grandson, came along to tend to his wobbly grandfather. However, in the North Bank, it is less about the mileage and more about the steep trails so this would not be a hike for namby-pambies, despite the short 5 mile distance.

Trees reach for the sky

It has been raining virtually non-stop in the Pacific Northwest for months and months that feel like years and years. However, on this day between winter storms, the day dawned clear, crisp, and gorgeous as a bowl of unlaced Jello. At the start, the trail ambled gently up and down through a flat known as Soggy Bottoms. But hiking in the habitat will involve some serious uphill at some point and  a left turn onto the North Gate Road marked the start of our North Bank leg cramps.

Let the huffing and puffing begin!

As the trail increased in grade, so did the huffing and puffing from hikers young and old. Didn't take long to start working up a sweat and get overheated, we stopped several times to remove layers of clothing. I think Issiah figured out that removing clothing was a way to cheat and grab an unauthorized rest stop. It wasn't long before we were bringing up the rear of our group, but what else is new?

I hate hiking

Just past the intersection with the Wrong Way Trail, the grade ramped up and the uphill became as serious as untreated flu crud. It was about then that I decided I hate hiking. But at least the sun was out, the views of the valleys below were stunning; or so I've been told, it wasn't me looking at the view when bent over, hands on knees, panting for breath during numerous post-flu rest stops.

Hey, let's make fun of Richard!

Walk uphill enough, and eventually a point is reached where all the bad uphill ends and such was the case when the North Gate Road intersected the Middle Ridge Road. A picnic table was strategically placed there and Issiah and I sat down for lunch as I endured verbal slings and arrows of outrageous fortune from my snarky hiking friends.  Something to do with arriving last but hey, I had a camera AND a 10 year old.

On Middle Ridge

My grandchildren are all fussy eaters, don't like this and don't like that, but they all think sardines are pretty cool. I have strange grandchildren and they have a strange grandfather. So Issiah and I enjoyed a restorative lunch of crackers and sardines on Middle Ridge. I had encouraged Issiah on the big climb by telling him it would be all downhill once we hit Middle Ridge. And as he so often pointed out on the descent, literally that was not quite true.

Running downhill

Yes, we were going downhill but this is the North Bank and even as we lost elevation, there were some steep hills to climb as we descended. Issiah had pretty much given it his all on the climb to Middle Ridge and he trudged slowly with frequent stops every time the trail went uphill, Naturally, we lagged far behind our comrades again.

Exploring, as only children can

At the West Barn Road, the trail dropped (with no uphill portions, this time) down from Middle Ridge to the trailhead and there was much rejoicing from a certain 10 year old grandson. He kept telling me how tired he was, yet he had enough energy to walk on muddy berms and slither into hollowed trees. On the way down, he told me he loved going hiking because in the outdoors there are no sisters yelling all the time. Well, OK, that's not particularly why I go hiking, but any reason to get out onto the trail is good.  Like not eating laced Jello.

Fantastic view to the North Umpqua River

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

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North Bank hike

This is getting to be an annual event for the Friends of the Umpqua Hiking Club. The club's first hike of the year takes place in the North Bank Deer Habitat, conveniently located in Roseburg's figurative back yard. Each year. we freeze our little colitas off hiking in the ice and fog, enjoy sumptuous views by hiking steeply uphill, and then warm fingers, toes, ears, and spirits with hot soup at Lois's house. It's a great way to start the hiking year.

Tree of Mystery

As we started the 2015 version of this hike, the ice chattered underneath our boots while our teeth chattered inside our heads. Besides being cold, the deer preserve was cloaked in thick Jack-the-Ripper London fog. The grasses were all covered with heavy frost and the faint tracings of leafless oaks and maples could just be seen in all the gray.

Just a tad bit nippy

At the humorously named Soggy Bottom, we split up into two groups hereafter referred to as Long Hikers and Short Hikers. The long and short of it did not refer to stature but to the length of the hike, although there are some whose stature would match the corresponding descriptor. Anyway, I led seven Long Hikers and Lois led the remaining Short Hikers.

No views...yet

The Soggy Bottom Road climbed gradually uphill, contouring across the steep hillsides of the north boundary ridge. A marginally brighter glow in surrounding grayness indicated the possible location of the sun. There weren't any views to be had so we just had to talk to each other. 

Why we hike

The fog began to thin out just before arriving at Grumpy's Pond and there was a hint of blue sky above as we hiked ever upwards. By the time we hit the north boundary ridge, we were free and clear of the fog and oh my, what a view we had.

Steaming jungle

The North Umpqua River valley was covered in a soft white blanket of foggy felt that stretched for miles and miles. The sky was gloriously blue and the tips of mountains and hills poked their pointy little heads out of the cotton sea. Much gawking and photography abounded. The scene was so spectacular that I almost didn't pay attention to my burning leg muscles as we climbed the steep hills of the preserve.  Almost.

First leg pain of the new year

At the Middle Ridge Road we said goodbye to Medium Hikers Elona and George and then we were five. The next couple of miles were a series of steep ups and downs over several high points on the northern ridge. The grassy slopes dropped precipitously away from our feet, disappearing into the foggy stewpot below. After the last knob, the trail headed downhill for good.

Our view on the way down

While the downhill was welcome after all the leg-burning uphill grades, what was not welcome was the return into the fog. The fog was incredibly thick and we could barely see where we were going. Bill and I kept company by talking politics and whatnot and it had been some time since we had last glimpsed our fellow Long Hikers. We eventually dropped below the fog cover and about 50 yards in front of us was John, Merle, and Edwin; thanks to the dense fog, we didn't even realize we were walking that close to each other.

I like this view better!

After this 10 mile epic, we all regrouped at Lois's house and her pozole restored warmth to noses, ears, and other miscellaneous extremities. I can't wait for the rest of the 2015 hikes, it's just going to be a great year for hiking! For more pictures of this hike, please visit the Flickr album.

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