Fuji Mountain

I finally got around to climbing Fuji Mountain. No, not THAT Fuji (the iconic Japanese peak renown the world over). Nowhere near as majestic as Japan's Mount Fuji but still pretty darn cool, Lane County's Fuji Mountain provides a fantastic view of Waldo Lake while doling out a whole bunch of exercise. And by way of explanation, Fuji Mountain was so named to honor Eugene's sister city, Kakegawa.

All the way to the Coast Range

But me, I really could care less about the cultural explanation about how Fuji Mountain got its name. It could have been named Mount Flaming Moose Poo and all I would care about was that there was a mountain and trail that had not yet been graced by my awesome presence. And since the wildfires in our area called for judicious selection of trails, if one wanted to avoid breathing in smoky air, the narrow window of hiking opportunity said I must go hike in the relatively smoke-free central Cascades.

Ready for 6 uphill miles?

Fuji Mountain is a fairly popular destination as the trailhead is only about 1.5 miles away from the summit. What, a three mile round trip? Not in this blog! There is a longer route that begins from the Waldo Lake Road, making for a more reasonable 12 mile hike. And best of all, the six miles from the trailhead to the summit are all uphill!

Fall has come to the Cascades

From the Waldo Lake Road, the trail wasted no time in heading uphill and I'd wind up gaining 2,200 feet or so in the six aforementioned miles. There were no views to speak of as the trail wandered through forest for about 5.99 of the 6.0 miles. This being late summer, the temps were cool, mosquitoes were not present, and the huckleberry leaves were blushing as red as an abashed tomato.

Birthday Lake

At about the three mile mark, it was time for a birthday celebration of sorts at a brief rest stop at Birthday Lake. Birthday Lake is a typical Cascades lake in that it is shallow and ringed by firs. The air was still, totally devoid of of the thick swarms of mosquitoes that devour hikers in early summer, and the lake's surface reflected the surrounding trees nicely. It wasn't my birthday but it still felt like I had just been given a present.

Verde Lake

Just past Birthday Lake was Verde Lake, a short stretch of level trail was much appreciated on the walk by the small body of water. Just past Verde Lake, the trail then angled upward at a more serious grade and intersected with the trail heading to the south end of Waldo Lake. Looking at the map later, I found out there's a nice network of trails in the area with many combinations thereof available for backpack loops. Because I did look at the map later, thoughts of backpacking routes percolating in my brain will keep me warm during the long, cold, and dark winter. From past experience though, I'll not return in mid-July, the height of mosquito season.

Trail, heading uphill

At any rate, after climbing steadily, the trail intersected with the short and popular trail to Fuji Mountain at approximately the 5 mile mark. Even though it still looked like the same old trees, I was now hiking on the slopes of Fuji Mountain proper. At one point, the forest opened up and I could see a formidable tree-covered wall that was part of Fuji Mountain and I really need to quit looking ahead when I hike.

View to Odell Lake and Maiden Peak

After inscribing several long switchbacks in the aforementioned forested wall of pain, the path broke out into an open and rocky slope and just beyond, the path crested at the Fuji Mountain summit. I gaily skipped up the trail, doing a happy dance at the impending end of all the uphill hiking. Freaking false summits do it to me every time! Yup, I still had some more work to do to reach the summit but the false summit did provide some ample views of Maiden Peak, Odell Lake, and Odell Butte. Lots of pictures were taken and the false summit was somewhat forgiven.

Waldo Lake

One last push up another 100 yards of rocky slope yielded the actual summit and I uttered an awestruck "Wow!", to the amusement of a Chilean family who were already on top of Fuji. Waldo Lake is Oregon's second largest natural lake and I could see all of it about 2,000 feet below. Beyond the lake were Mount Bachelor and the Three Sisters (only South and Middle Sister were visible, though; North Sister was hiding behind Middle Sister). A massive canyon which I presume was cut by glaciers contained unseen Black Creek and from there it was hills and mountains rolling all the way to the Coast Range. To the south, Diamond Peak was eminently visible with pointy Mount Thielsen peeking from behind Diamond's shoulder.

Trail shot

Such a view required a lengthy view soak and I obliged, chatting with the steady stream of visitors coming up from the nearer trailhead. I and two college students from Corvallis were the only ones opting for the longer route that day. Eventually, after I had eaten all my sardines and crackers it was time to go. There isn't much to report afterwards, except for some reason the six miles back seemed much longer than the six miles of the incoming leg. All in all, a pretty cool hike, even if it wasn't to the summit of THAT Fuji!

Trail to the summit of Fuji Mountain

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

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Larison Creek

I'd never hiked on the Larison Creek Trail before and for no other reason than that, Larison Creek became the destination of choice on an early March weekend. After exchanging pleasantries with a mountain biking couple at the trailhead, I sallied forth onto the Larison Creek Trail, looking over my shoulder every 15 seconds or so, fully expecting speeding bikers to run me over. I need not have worried, for a number of fallen trees and a narrow cliffy trail made sure the bikers also got in some quality on-foot time, especially those biking with a wife as a first time cyclist (as was the case with the couple encountered at the trailhead).

Unappealing Larison Cove

Most of the cool stuff, visually speaking, came within the first couple of miles of this hike. The trail begins at Larison Cove, where Larison Creek empties into fjord-like Hills Creek Lake. The water level was well below the trail where the dry and desiccate banks indicate how low the lake's water level is, in an ominous harbinger of another dry summer. The trail hugged a steep and brushy slope that provided views of the mostly empty cove and the fetid waters contained therein.

Real hikers take the bridge on the left

Once past the end of the cove, the trail entered a mossy and well-ferned forest and that would be the theme for the rest of the hike. Larison Creek was always near the trail but remained mostly unseen due to the dense vegetation. However, the burbling of the creek provided a nice counterpoint to twittering birds, chattering squirrels, and one lone hiker talking to himself. 

Larison Creek

There were several use paths that did provide occasional access to the creek and I availed myself of one of them. The creek flowed in a series of stair steps from pool to pool with rock islands inviting a step-across for a better view. Much photography ensued.

My view for most of 9 miles

Leaving these little pools behind, the trail peeled somewhat away from the creek and began to head steadily uphill. At a small crest the forest opened up briefly and offered a limited view of the blue sky above. Since leaving Larison Cove, the sky's presence had been as faint as light from a distant quasar.

Why mountain bikers don't speed on the Larison Creek Trail

The turnaround point was where the trail crossed Larison Creek on a footbridge right before a serious climb to a trailhead on Forest Road 101. Now in the middle of the afternoon, the mountain bikers began to appear on the trail on a more regular basis as they apparently prefer to head downhill on a one-way shuttle ride. They aren't tough like us hikers! However, since the trail was narrow, rocky, and with plenty of fallen trees blocking the trail, the cyclists tended to ride with an uncharacteristic degree of prudence and care. I was not afraid of getting run over, unlike other trails I've had to share with mountain biker crowd.

Rhododendron sprout

So, this hike up Larison Creek was basically a long walk in the woods but it did fit the bill for an easy hike when snow rendered the higher elevations inaccessible. But spending all day in the moss and ferns is a preferable alternative to watching "Glee" reruns on TV. Come to think of it, pouring turpentine on an open wound would be more preferable than watching a "Glee" rerun, but that's beside the point.

Drink out of my evil black cup

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

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Lower Eddeeleo Lake

Back in the day, U.S. Forest Service employees Ed Clark, Dee Wright, and Leo McMahon stocked the lakes in the Waldo Lake area. They must have notably done everything together because the Eddeeleo Lakes were named after them in permanent testimonial to their togetherness.  

A hoverfly buzzes a beargrass bloom

Beginning at Forest Road 254 on the western edge of the Waldo Lake Wilderness, the trail ducked into a thick conifer forest and headed downhill into the lake basin. Shade from the trees would be a welcome constant on the hike. Having hiked around Waldo Lake once before in July, I came well-prepared with buckets of industrial strength Deet but oddly enough, the mosquito swarms were on the mild side. Maybe it's because the early and hot summer has impacted the mosquito breeding cycle, but for whatever reason, I was most grateful for the relative lack of airborne vampires.

The rare and seldom seen rhododendron

Beargrass, in full bloom, greeted me at the sunny trailhead but once in the forest, it was all about the rhododendrons. I would be walking primarily on the Six Lakes Trail and the map showed a lot more lakes in the area but the lakes were hard to get to, they should have named it the Rhododendron Trail, instead. They were blooming everywhere and nearly exclusively; my picture collection has grown by several hundred more rhododendron photographs after this hike.

The Six Lakes Trail, somewhere in there

A good map is required as there are many trails criss-crossing each other as they connect all the lakes like nodes on a computer flow chart. In just over a mile, a right turn took me off the Winchester Lake Trail onto the Blair Lake Trail after ignoring the Winchester Ridge Trail turnoff. Then it was another right turn onto the Six Lakes Trail, ignoring turnoffs onto the Quinn Lakes Trail. Confused? That's why maps get brought along on hikes, boys and girls.

Lower Quinn Lake

At any rate, the trail came close enough to Lower Quinn Lake for the lake to be visible through the trees. I worked my way to the shore to snap a few pictures of the lake before continuing on. Somehow, I missed the junction with the Quinn Lakes Trail so I missed Upper Quinn Lake; I came in close proximity to East Quinn Lake but could not see the lake for the trees.

Long Lake

Next up on the lake list was Long Lake, a slender body of water that is nearly a mile long. I bushwhacked to the inlet meadow/marsh, ducking conifer branches intent on removing my eyes. Further on down the lake, I bushwhacked to another viewpoint of the lake for a better view. And this is my complaint about the Six Lakes Trail: all those lakes require a scratchy bushwhack in order to see them. Stay on the trail and you'd never catch a glimpse despite there being lakes all around.  

One of 167,432 rhododendrons seen on this hike

But hey, there were rhododendrons blooming in riotous profusion, offering a floral distraction to grumbling hikers. After traversing some marshes on a newly constructed boardwalk and foot bridge, a hint of blue through the trees gave away the location of Lower Edeeleo Lake.   

Lower Eddeeleo Lake

The guidebook I read said a nice view could be had by walking along the lake's shoreline just past the outlet creek. Peering into the dense growth, I could hear but not see the creek. The undergrowth, consisting mainly of vine maples, was very thick and extremely tedious to get through. I finally reached the shore which abruptly started where the undergrowth ended; I had to cling to the vine maples just to be able to take a one-handed photograph. Whew! Beats me how the guidebook's author made it to the shore viewpoint.

Ed, Dee, and Leo

The trail from my car had been mostly downhill and it just seems wrong to have to hike uphill to the car. Fortunately, the grade was moderate for the 5 miles back to the car. After this hike, I have a better appreciation for the hard work performed by Ed, Dee, and Leo; naming the lakes after them was probably the Forest Service's equivalent of a Purple Heart medal.

One of the few flowers that was not a rhodendron

For more pictures of the rhododendrons, stop by and visit the Flickr album.