Rogue River Trail (backpack)

So there we were on the last day of our Rogue River Trail backpack trip, eating lunch in the shade and sitting next to the trail. A fellow backpacker came up from the opposite direction and as is customary, we greeted each other, he by giving us a friendly nod and a curt acknowledgment of "Gentlemen". Three out of the four people in our party thought it no big deal while one was singularly nonplussed. The one irritated member of our quartet was not gentleman nor man and Missy was fuming at being so mistaken for a member of the male species. "Couldn't he see that I'm not a man?" she wailed, our laughter no tonic for her discomfiture. We decided Missy's trail name could be Sir or Mister, but looking at her long braids draping over the front of each shoulder, I'm of the opinion that our erstwhile dude could have no greater honor than to accept with pride, her given trail name of  "Willie Nelson".

Day 1

Golden iris put on a show for
the entire time of our visit

The first day of our forty mile journey was overcast but we (Rogue River Trail newcomers Missy, Mike, and Terry) were off and hiking anyway, except for yours truly, who had to backtrack to the car to retrieve a rain hat, which would be sorely needed on this trip. But at least I get the Golden Boot Award for hiking farther than everybody else. 

Whiskey Creek, as we arrived

All participants were familiar with the first three miles to Whiskey Creek, but once we passed that first major stream, it was all new trail for my Rogue River Trail newbs. However, by the time we reached Whiskey Creek, we had all become accustomed to the basic pattern of the trail, consisting of a climb to a cliff overlooking the river in its canyon and then a descent down to a tributary creek, followed by another climb away from the creek to a cliff overlooking the river. Up and down, in and out, and repeat for forty miles. Also repeated for forty miles were the soft caresses of poison oak leaves on our arms and legs as that pernicious shrub was constantly encroaching the trail.

These flower smelled lovely, Blogger
needs to add a scratch n' sniff option

We passed creeks Whiskey, Alder, Russian, Bronco, and Bunker over the first nine miles of trail and so far so good as far as my aged legs were concerned. However, the next three'ish miles had some pretty steep grades and by the time we reached Horseshoe Bend I was thoroughly pooped, but on the plus side, we had knocked off nearly twelve miles which wasn't bad for us old hikers.

Day 2

A cloudy dawn yet Terry said
the storm was dissipating

Day 2 will live in infamy in the memories of all participants. Although, there were just some clouds in the sky when we struck camp, the day would soon be as wet as the interior of a water balloon, Terry's cheery and overly optimistic prognostication of "it's dissipating" notwithstanding.

Missy has a bonding moment with the wet earth

After an hour or so of hiking on a trail covered with numerous piles of bear poop, the first raindrops began to fall. We hiked another hour or so before we all began to feel the need to put on raingear. Missy should have put on mud gear too, for she took a spill crossing a creek and suffered an ignominious sit-down upon the wet earth. 

OK, it's raingear o'clock

One highlight of the second day was a side trip to Zane Gray's cabin, a rustic ramshackle cabin in the middle of a grassy meadow where the famed author stayed when he fished the Rogue. Shortly after leaving the cabin and resuming our hike on the Rogue River Trail, we ran into a party of about eight day hikers. It was our friends, the Friends of the Umpqua Hiking Club, day hiking to the cabin and they looked wet. They probably thought we looked wet, too.

The rain did not dissipate

After exchanging pleasantries with our friends, we continued on and at the eleven-mile mark, we arrived at the Rogue River Ranch, now a historical backcountry museum. And that was when the wind started. We were all soaked at this point, having hiked in the rain for the last six hours or so, and that wind had us all shivering in no time flat. Backpacking is so much fun!

Arrival at Rogue River Ranch

We went to the ranch and sat on the porch with about a half-dozen other backpackers in a vain attempt to seek shelter from the elements. The caretaker offered the services of his wood stove to dry out clothing and gear but we all politely declined for there's no wood stoves in backpacking. He was a nice guy though, and it was a relief to know hikers in trouble could have a place to go to for help, if needed. At any rate, we camped by the river and all of us were in our tents by three o'clock in the afternoon, listening to the wind and rain raging on the other side of our flimsy tent fabric.

Day 3

Still not dissipating, Terry

The ranch caretaker did share with us that the storm would abate this morning, but you'd never know it from the rain that was still vigorously pelting our campsite. Humorously enough, we held a quick meeting to decide that we'd start our hike later in the morning when the weather would break, the humor being that the meeting was held verbally, each one of us participating from inside one's own tent. It was like the backpacking version of a Zoom Meeting.

Overjoyed when the sun broke out

From the ranch, there is a short road walk to the Marial Trailhead and it was somewhere around there that the mid-morning sun came out, warming limbs and souls alike. From Marial, the trail entered an amazing world comprised mostly of black jagged rock at the bottom of the river canyon. Here, the Rogue funnels into narrow Mule Creek Canyon, famed as a formidable challenge for rafters. The precarious trail is etched into a cliff face and you really want to watch your step here, for the drop-off from the trail is sheer. The highlight of this section is Stair Creek, which tumbles into the Rogue in a series of awesome waterfalls. One other highlight was that because of the sun, we removed rain gear, jackets, pant legs, and applied sunscreen to our pale and pallid skins. 

Precarious trail etched onto a cliff

Continuing onward, we passed through the grounds of Paradise Lodge, which was not as backpacker friendly as it had been in years past, although they graciously let us picnic on their deck. From there it was the usual up and down ramble over flowing creeks, through lush forests, and across dry and open cliffs. At the ten mile mark, we set up camp at Tacoma Camp, well populated with rafters camping there.

Day 4

Tacoma Rapids as we began the hike out

Day 4 was getaway day. It also was our shortest day, coming in at a paltry 7.9 miles. Good thing too, because hiking in wet shoes during Day 2's deluge had given me some blisters. Of course, the last and easiest day also had the best weather, something that had also occurred during my two other through-hikes of the Rogue River Trail. It must be a rule.

Peaceful Flora Dell Falls

The main highlight as we left Tacoma Camp was Flora Dell Falls, where Flora Dell Creek tumbles over a cliff to splash into its basin. The weather wasn't particularly warm but the cool spray blowing off the picturesque cascade still felt refreshing.

Pathway through the woods

The remainder of the hike crossed several creeks and was mostly wooded. The Rogue had been the official Wild and Scenic Rogue River during our hike but here, the river widened and began flowing a lot more in keeping with its now ponderous bulk. Welcome to the Tame and Civilized Rogue River, boys and girls. We did have two steep uphill sections to hike over though, as the trail had to detour around some private property parcels, much to our annoyance.

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The end of the Rogue River Trail was pretty spectacular, though, as it went through a long extended pasture in a valley ringed by forested mountains.  As we hiked by, appreciating the postcard view under a blue sky, incurious cows impassively gazed at us. The trailhead put an official end to the Rogue River Trail but we still had a short walk on a roadway to where my car was waiting for us at Foster Bar.

We did it!

We did it! Even though this was my third go-round with the Rogue River Trail, I still felt a profound sense of accomplishment. No doubt my newbs felt a similar sense of accomplishment, unburdened by the ennui that multiple hikes on the same trail can engender. And as a reward, we stopped in Gold Beach for barbecue sandwiches that were to die for, in our deprived post-hike condition. There are some things about civilization that you just appreciate more after a long backpack trip.

Elegant brodeaia, looking elegant, as always

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

Lost Creek Lake (weekend backpack)

It was just a small sign tacked onto a trailhead kiosk, measuring maybe a foot square but the words on it were sufficient enough to throw my plans for backpacking around Lost Creek Lake into chaos. The stern blue letters on the sign advised the bridge at Blue Grotto was closed to hikers, no reason given other than it was unsafe. Somewhat uncharacteristically, I heeded the terse message and on the fly, rearranged my itinerary.

All life should be walking in a field of daisies

Spring was in full song at Lost Creek Lake as I began hiking from the lake's dam, at the time blissfully unaware of any upcoming closures. Everything was green as the trail initially set out across a grassy field of shin-high daisies. I had never been on this part of the lakeside trail and was immediately impressed with the lushness of the vegetation growing alongside the large lake.

One of several million elegant cat's ear flowers

Life was burgeoning all along the trail but elegant cat's ear was the dominant life form on this two-day hike. Figuratively purring in the sun, the white fuzzy flowers brightened up grassy hillsides and leafy duff alike. My pace was slow as I seemingly took a photo of each and every bloom, for no two ears are ever alike.

Green was the color of the day

There was plenty of shade to be enjoyed on this sunny day, for the lake's shore was heavily wooded with firs and other conifers. A lush understory of ferns and other moisture-loving plants thrived in the shade beneath the trees. Just past Four Corners Camp, a backpackers' camp where there were no corners at all to be seen, much less four of them, the fir forest was then supplanted by oak woodland.

So nice to see Lost Creek Lake full of water

Periodically, the trail would leave the oak woods and traverse across open semi-arid patches of manzanita and dry grass, the lack of trees allowing hikers to spend some quality time with Lost Creek Lake. The lake was ringed by forested hills and mountains with distinctive Flounce Rock being the nearest and most prominent. The lake's water level had been low the last several years, thanks to an extended drought, so it was nice to see it full of water after this wet winter.

The relatively narrow Lost Creek arm

Lost Creek Lake from overhead, would resemble a pollywog were it not for the Lost Creek arm of the lake. Thanks to the aforementioned arm, the lake looks like a pollywog with a giant dorsal fin holding a flashlight. Actually it really resembles nothing more than an amorphous blob but my imagination feels the need to come up with some kind of simile.  At any rate, the trail went up and around the arm which eventually felt more like narrow fjord than significant-sized lake. 

Well, this screwed up my plans

There's a trailhead located where the route crosses burbling Lost Creek, and that was where the sign filled me up with consternation. What to do? I was about four miles into the hike and Blue Grotto was probably another four miles ahead. I dithered as I hiked some more and at roughly the six mile mark, I decided to stop and camp, if only because the trail passed through a series of amazingly beautiful meadows atop cliffs with spectacular overlooks of the lake. If I wasn't going to circumnavigate the lake, then these bucolic pastures were certainly an appealing place to spend the night at.

My home away from home

After pitching my tent in the middle of an idyllic copse of oak trees, I then stealth-cooked dinner. Stealth cooking is that technique where you cook and eat dinner on the trail and then hike another hour or so before setting up camp. This is done so as to prevent bears from getting too interested in your campsite, lured in by enticing food aromas. Bear scat had been spotted on the trail, so I hiked ahead to a scenic overlook and cooked and ate on a convenient bench while enjoying the late afternoon scenery. 

An up-close look at German knotweed

After dinner, I slapped a macro lens on my camera and began crawling through my meadow home, photographing all things small and smaller. It's amazing the things you can find at the other end of a macro lens and I noted a tiny plant with prickly green leaves that when magnified, were actually miniscule green flowers. Hello, German knotweed, I believe we haven't ever met before, pleased to make your acquaintance! 

Got an early start on the hike out

After a breezy night spent listening to the pleasant soughing of windblown oak branches, I bid the German knotweed "auf Wiedersehen", struck camp, and hit the trail somewhere around eight o'clock in the morning. Doing anything by eight o'clock is a rarity in my retirement years but I was glad I did, for the temperature was cool and the morning light slanting through the woods was most enjoyable. Although, it did feel strange to finish hiking before eleven o'clock in the morning.

Tall silvercrown was a common sight

Upon my return to home and computer, I researched the question as to whether the closure at Blue Grotto was still in effect. I had my doubts because in all honesty, the sign did look a little weatherworn, like it had been there for quite some time. Unfortunately, I couldn't find any info so I'll just have to hike at the other end and find out, or take my chances on another circumnavigation attempt. Nonetheless, I really did enjoy my meadow camp and outing so I'm not too upset at not being able to do the full hike around the lake, it was all good.

This lake patrolled by guard geese

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

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Rainie Falls

It's February already, yet this is only my second hike of 2021. At this rate, I'm on pace to wind up with 48 miles on 12 hikes this year. I'd hiked so little recently my knees were oxidizing and in sore need of some life-giving hiking oil. Accordingly, younger brother Don and I set up a hike at Takelma Gorge but snowy weather caused us to postpone that little venture for a later date. The Rogue River was nearby though, and situated below snowy weather elevation, thereby making the Rogue our impromptu Plan B. And because I felt as rusted over as the Tin Man, Rainie Falls was chosen simply because it was not as rigorous as the up-and-down Rogue River Trail on the opposite side of the river from the Rainie Falls Trail.

    

A cold day all around

Despite being shorter though, the Rainie Falls Trail is a lot more rugged. The trail is crudely chiseled into cliff faces above the river and the tread is rough and rocky in a lot of places, rendering both of our inner mountain goats ecstatic. Although we'd get neither snow nor rain on this day, it was frosty cold and was all that was needed for actual snowfall was just some precipitation. The surrounding mountains disappeared into a low cloud cover on a gray day and no doubt the mountains did have snow higher up.

Numerous seasonal creeks ran across the trail

It was readily made apparent that this hike would be all about water. Of course, the rain-swollen Rogue River coursed below the trail and was eminently visible for virtually the entire hike. But weeks of rain and snow created new creeks and runoffs while replenishing and rejuvenating old ones. Don likes to take videos and I like to photograph, so we basically hiked in same style, which consisted of frequent stops to take photos or videos or all of the above.

Not the smoothest trail in the world

There was a duality to this hike in that the time and miles were equally split between trail etched into exposed rocky cliffs and lush forest green and vibrant; one or the other with no in-between. The forest was that odd Siskiyou mix we know and love, being comprised of strange tree-fellows madrone, myrtlewood, cedar, oak, and fir. Don and I crumpled up myrtlewood leaves between our fingers, enjoying the sweet intoxicating aroma emanating from the bruised leaves.

Don hikes through the ferns and Oregon myrtle

A fellow Pacific Northwest nature geek once admonished me "Do NOT call it bay laurel, it is Oregon myrtle!" Yes sir, and I dutifully obeyed so as not to be unfriended or written out of the will. However, if you look up "Oregon myrtle", you will find it also called "California bay laurel" and please don't hit me. All this discussion of laurel vs. myrtlewood is because Don speculated myrtlewood is a true bay laurel endemic to northern California and southern Oregon. That sent me to some online research where I found out: a) it is not a true laurel although the fragrant leaves smell as such and b) the range is the entire California coast and about half of the Oregon coast and c) I am the smarter and better looking brother.

Some madrone orangery among all the greenery

We had a similar discussion about the range of madrone, he thought it was likewise limited to Oregon and northern California. Actually, madrone can be found the world over but our particular madrone species, the Pacific madrone, grows only on the west coast from San Diego to the Vancouver Island area in British Columbia. Good thing Don and I did not discuss any other species of flora or fauna because otherwise I'd still be immersed in this research project, but I spare no effort to prove to my readers that I am always right. 

Good thing the river gods aren't hungry

This time of year, the winter rains and snows fill up the Rogue River and naturally, the river was silty, fast, and wide. The extra water just overwhelms Rainie Falls, making it seem more like a watery speed bump for the rafting and kayaking crowd instead of the feared river obstacle it is. However, the strong and powerful current is still plenty capable of chewing up careless boaters and spitting out the husks like so many used-up sunflower seed hulls. The inherent danger didn't necessarily stop us from standing right at the edge but on the other hand, we both have cool photos and videos of the falls. Maybe neither one of us is the smarter brother.

It was cliffy and we liked it

After a nice little lollygag, it was back the way we came and we got to experience the awesome Rogue River Scenery all over again. The ponderous bulk of the greenish-brown river flowed in the bottom of its canyon and we observed many creeks waterfalling down the mountainsides before splashing into or onto the river. This was Don's first visit to the Rogue River and much like all newbies I have brought here in years past, he was reliably awed. Mission accomplished, especially since I didn't hurt any more body parts on the hike, which is something you say when you are the older brother.

Don saw the Rogue River, and
he smiled and said it was good

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

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Rogue River Trail 2/2020

The Rogue River Trail is like an old friend that I visit several times a year to reminisce and share stories with, but without the all the drinking of whiskey and spitting of tobacco from the front porch. I've long ago lost count of how many times I've hiked this trail but each and every time out, the same old scenery is different in some way, shape, or form, never failing to provide a day's worth of enjoyment. That's why I hike this trail over and over again so it should come as no surprise that on a chill February day, four old hikers (some older than others) set out on the Rogue River Trail to visit our perennial friend for alt least the 3,072nd time, but who's counting?

Crystal clear pool on a seasonal creek

Despite the comfortable familiarity of the route, the hike is different every time out (I know, I'm repeating myself, aren't I?). Today's exercise in differentness was the sun and shade. The planet and earth had aligned just so, leaving the river canyon in deep and dark shade despite it being a sunny day in general. Every time the high ridges and mountains prevented the sun from reaching the river flowing in its deep canyon, the temperature dropped, chilling noses, ears, fingers, and any other unprotected body parts. 

From light unto dark

The river zigs and zags on its quest to become one with the ocean and every time the trail rounded a bend, the sun emerged from its blocked-by-mountains purgatory to bathe us in unseasonably warm sunlight. Eventually, I gave up trying to put on or remove layers to get warmer, colder, or just righter, settling instead on hiking in short sleeves and just putting up with shivering in the shade until the sun came out from behind the high ridges.

Saxifrage graced moist cliffs

The Rogue River Trail puts on a vibrant wildflower show each spring and we were ahead of the floral fireworks. However, there were some early blossomers commencing the blooming festivities, notably those being saxifrage, Hall's desert parsley, snow queen, with occasional specimens of Oregon sunshine and oaks toothwort. (Grammatical question: shouldn't the plural of toothwort be teethwort?) I can't quite say much photography ensued because there weren't that many wildflowers to take photos of...yet.

The leaves of laurel are more fragrant than the flowers

One of my favorite things about the Rogue River Trail is the forest comprised of laurel, tan oak, and madrone treees. The laurels were sporting umbels of yet unopened flower buds and as always, the fragrance of the leaves entranced passing hikers. The madrones reached up to the blue sky overhead, their wiggly smooth orange-colored trunks providing a pleasing visual contrast to all the blue and green above and around the trail. A cousin to madrone, manzanita shrubs contributed their blue-gray leaves and smooth burgundy-colored limbs and trunks to the shrubbery rainbow flanking the trail. And as always, the mottled light filtering through the trees created a pleasant ambiance to hike in.

A small spring runoff trickles across the trail

If you've ever hiked the Rogue River Trail in the summer, then you are well aware that it can get blazing hot, arid, and dry, with the rocky cliffs well populated by buzzing rattlesnakes, ex-wives, and other scaly reptiles. However, in spring and early summer, small creeks run across the trail, the tinkling waters providing a musical backdrop to the all the usual sounds of the forest mixed in with some huffing and puffing from old out-of-shape hikers (present company included). Today was no different and I was only too happy to get boots wet as I splashed across the burbling creeks.

Snow queen, blooming on the forest floor

Our party of four had gotten spread out as John and Jennifer had left me in their dust as is their usual wont, and I had left Dianne in my dust as is my usual wont. Mostly, I just hiked by myself, accompanied by my own idle thoughts on a gorgeous day. We had talked about lunching at Whiskey Creek Cabin, a backwoods museum and historical site but when I arrived, I had the whole place to myself. Obviously, John and Jennifer had continued on further up the trail. Nonetheless, I enjoyed lazing on the grass, eating lunch amid the rusting mining relics strewn about in front of the rustic cabin. 

Sun and shade on the trail

I did run into John and Jennifer lunching on a sun-exposed beach where Whiskey Creek met the Rogue River and we called out greetings to each other as I continued hiking back to the trailhead at Graves Creek. Wanting to prove my mettle somewhat, I pushed my pace in what I presumed would be a vain attempt to keep from being overtaken by my speedy comrades. Actually, I managed to pull off the feat, arriving at the trailhead mere minutes in front of the two uber-hikers.

Thanks old friend, I needed that!

As always, it was nice to fraternize with our old friend the Rogue River Trail, and I certainly look forward to my next visit there. For more photos of this hike, please visit the Flickr album.

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Mule Creek Trail

"Grandpa, stop the car!" came the frantic cry from the back seat "I'm going to be sick!" If there's one thing I've learned in my lifetime, it's to immediately honor that particular request so stop we did. The door flew open, Issiah rolled out onto the gravel road and for the next few minutes, us car occupants were treated to a symphony of wet urping noises that had us all (me and other grandchildren Daweson and Coral Rae) holding back sympathy gags. It was pretty much at that point that I became resigned to the fact that this hike was going to be less than epic.

What's a hike without some poison oak?

Before I continue on with the story of this hike, let's take a quick side trip to the tale of how the current incarnation of the Mule Creek Trail came to be, based on my recollection from a presentation I attended, several years back, given by Gabriel Howe, the executive director of the Siskiyou Mountain Club. Gabriel had been hired as a summer caretaker for the Rogue River Ranch, a backwoods museum located near Marial. One day he went to hike the Mule Creek Trail and found out to his chagrin that the trail had long since been abandoned and was no longer in existence.

Mountain goat on a cliffy goat path

Irritated that the trail would be on the map but not on the ground, he formed the Siskiyou Mountain Club to refurbish and maintain hiking trails in southwestern Oregon. One of the first projects completed was the complete rehabilitation of the Mule Creek Trail. Nowadays, the trail works its way up Mule Creek's rugged canyon, eventually joining up with the Panther Ridge Trail (after a whole lor of uphill walking), and then returns to the Rogue River Trail to complete a 25'ish mile backpacking loop. In a case of "if you build it, they will come" the Mule Creek Trail sees a fair amount of use from backpackers looking for a rugged and challenging trek.

Guess which three belong to me

I was really looking forward to getting out on this trail for my first time but an urping child was going to definitely curtail this initial visit. However, Issiah is a battler and he was willing to give it some kind of effort so we continued on to the trailhead, rejoining with the Friends of the Umpqua, who were waiting and wondering what happened to us.

Trees have to get used to growing in rock around here

Mule Creek runs into the larger Rogue River near the remote way station of Marial so it would figure that Mule Creek would resemble a figurative child of the Rogue River Trail. The vibe was all Siskiyou as the rough track meandered through trees consisting of that Siskiyou mix of oak, laurel, madrone, and conifer growing on the slopes of an arid and rocky ravine.

Way too close to the edge (don't tell his mom!)

Didn't take long for the trail to get cliffy à la Rogue River Trail too, as it was etched into a cliff face overlooking Mule Creek's deep and inhospitable gorge.  In many places, it was so deep that the creek was hidden from view as it tumbled and roiled somewhere down at the bottom of the seeming abyss. We stopped for several gawk-stops in between short rounds of hiking like so many mountain goats on a narrow trail. 

Precarious bridge at the first crossing

After a mile or so of hiking, the bridge at the first of three crossings of Mule Creek came into view, the bridge looking ever so frail and tiny when compared to the massive canyon it was spanning. After the bridge crossing, the trail would forsake Mule Creek proper for Mule Creek's west fork. Same old rugged canyon vibe, though, no matter which fork of Mule Creek we were on.

A creek full of caddisfly larvae

The trail crossed the creek for the second time at a shallow pool with stunningly clear water which left no place to hide for the abundant numbers of caddisfly larvae crawling on the bottom. For protection, caddisfly larvae glue small pebbles and twigs around their soft bodies and as a result, it looked like small rocks were scuttling about on the creek bottom.

A cluster of Solomon's seal fruits

Issiah's warrior heart was willing but frankly, throwing up really depletes the body's energy reserves and he was gassed at this point. He graciously offered to sit at the pool and nap while we continued on to the third crossing of the creek, so we left him in the shade and continued walking uphill on a brushy trail. Having to choose between child abandonment and hiking, I'm glad to report we all chose hiking!

A couple of head-dippers

The hot and dusty trail headed up and over a brushy ridge before dropping down to the third crossing located at the bottom of a narrow gorge. The kids decided this was the place to kneel next to the rushing creek and dip their heads into the cool water, much to the amusement of us adults too dignified to do the same, although we all secretly wanted to.

John arrives at the third crossing

From here, the trail begins a long a protracted climb out of the Rogue River canyon (of which, Mule Creek and its canyon were a lesser part of), culminating on top of Panther Ridge. The climb is long and steep enough to make you hate hiking, but fortunately for me and my crew, we were going to turn back and retrieve Issiah. Our hiking friends would continue on for a mile or two before turning back, so we said our goodbyes and returned to the second crossing.

Beetle battle on a common yarrow

So, this wound up being a long drive for a short three-mile hike but some things just can't be helped. It was truly some spectacular landscape and scenery, and my appetite's been whetted for a return visit. And speaking of appetites, Issiah didn't have one but at least he didn't urp up any more and our return to Roseburg was less eventful than the drive to the Mule Creek trailhead.

A deep and narrow cleft contains Mule Creek

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

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