Canyon Creek Meadows

Timing is everything. Last year, the hiking club camped at Odell Lake right at the end of August and enjoyed a great three-day hiking extravaganza. The following weekend, the catastrophic Holiday Farm Fire roared down the McKenzie Highway and had the campout been scheduled for just a week later, we would have found ourselves right in the middle of two apocalyptic blazes (the Archie Creek Fire being the other fire). 

The scars from the B&B Fire were felt throughout the hike

At the time of this year's campout in late July, the Bootleg Fire (near Klamath Falls) had burned over 200,000 acres (it would eventually get to be over 400,000 acres in size) so it stood to reason we could expect smoky skies. But miracles do happen, for prevailing wind currents carried the smoke off to the east and we enjoyed blue sky all weekend long. Bad for everybody living to the east but we congratulated our self-centered selves on once again, our perfect timing. It's always all about us!

This bunch got lost in a parking lot!

The first hike on our itinerary was Canyon Creek Meadows, and things got off to a comedic start at the Jack Lake Trailhead. We eagerly grabbed the trail and enthusiastically walked 30 yards where the hike unexpectedly ended at a picnic table. Our group of about a dozen confused and consternated hikers then scattered in different directions in a search for the real trail and some of us even resorted to consulting our maps. Once the Old Summit Trail was found, we found wry humor in a group of experienced hikers that can't even find their way out of a trailhead parking lot.

You don't know Jack, but I do!

Once on the proper route, Jack Lake was encountered about a quarter-mile into the hike, the small lake not containing as much water as usual in this hot and dry summer. After side-swiping the body of water, the trail then began a nice little climb up a brushy ridge in the middle of the recovering 2003 B&B Fire burn zone. The forest is gradually returning but for now, the path was surrounded by sun-loving manzanita bushes with ghostly white snags poking out of the brush cover like so many quills on a mangy porcupine. 

A dry and scratchy trail 

The day was warm, maybe even hot, and the trail was dusty. Encroaching shrubbery offered no shade but did cheerfully scratch our legs as we trudged by. Continually gaining elevation as we hiked, it didn't take long before tips of taller mountains, chiefly Three-Fingered Jack and Mount Jefferson, could be seen rising above the wilderness acreage of silver snags and partially forested ridges,. In due time, and with more elevation gained, the bulk of both peaks would come to dominate scenery and skylines alike.

The first of many meadows

After a mile or so the trail began to level out, commencing an up and down transition from dead trees to a genuine live forest. We were on the east side of the Cascades though, so the terrain still had that high desert vibe in places, particularly in scrubby meadows comprised of hardy lupine and blooming subalpine mariposa lilies. The sparse meadows served advance notice of the meadowy wonders awaiting us on the other side of Canyon Creek.

Three Fingered Jack: You shall not pass!

Canyon Creek flows down from the two-toed foot of Three-Fingered Jack and yes, it does run at the bottom of a flat-floored canyon. The canyon floor is filled with a series of lush meadows, collectively known as Canyon Creek Meadows. The raised hand of Three-Fingered Jack loomed at the end of the creek's headwater, stating emphatically "Halt, your hike ends here!" It didn't take long for me to find myself lagging way behind my comrades, but on the other hand I have a bunch of nice photographs of larkspur, lupine, columbine, subalpine mariposa lily, and the like. My companions continued hiking to a glacier moraine wall where they espied mountain goats while I uncharacteristically turned back just a mile short of that worthy goal in concession to my post-hernia surgery recovery.

Some of that Canyon Creek Meadows glory

Wow, the lower meadows flanking Canyon Creek were stunning and totally way cool! The color combination of blue sky and green meadow appeal to humans on a primeval and instinctual basis and this particular human was instinctually and primevally pleased by the color combo. The sound of buzzing insects and twittering birds were a constant in the verdant meadows as I hiked past. The forested canyon walls loomed on the other side of the creek snaking its way through the vegetation like the sinuous watery serpent it is. Much photography abounded as I hiked through a couple of miles of the idyllic pastures.

Mount Jefferson presides over many
    square miles of recovering burn area

The loop was closed off by a gradual descent through brush and old burned forest before ending the hike just past Jack Lake. A fantastic vista of the fire-scarred landscape stretched to the north with snow-capped Mount Jefferson rising over the desolate expanse like the Great Snow King it is. Again, the clicking of the camera shutter was a constant.

Subalpine mariposa lily was a plentiful denizen of the meadows

Obviously, summer wildfires are now a thing these days but we were once again fortunate in our timing. About a week after the campout, lightning storms used the Cascade Mountains for target practice with the unfortunate side-effect being our forests were once again set alight. Maybe we should concede the point and just begin scheduling our campouts in January! 

Guard ant on duty!

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

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Pacific Crest Trail (from Santiam Pass)

I like hiking in burn zones. It may be an acquired taste, but I find it fascinating to observe the process of a forest reestablishing itself after a fire. And, despite the tree carnage and scorched earth policy, there is also great beauty to be found in an old burn zone. Unfortunately, too much of a good thing can also be bad and if recent fire seasons are any kind of indicator, we all will have more than ample opportunity to learn to love burn zones in the near future. At any rate, the site of the B&B Fire at Santiam Pass still remains one of my favorite places to hike.

Beauty in a burn zone

At Santiam Pass, the fire began life as the Booth Fire in mid-August of 2003 while further to the north in the Mount Jefferson Wilderness, the Bear Butte Fire birthed into fiery existence. Eventually, the two fires joined forces as one and the two fire names melded together to become the B&B Fire. Even though the fire burned virtually in uninhabited wilderness, over $38 million dollars were spent to combat the fire. I'm not sure if the expenditure was worth the investment for when it was all over, the fire had consumed over 90,000 acres. Unfortunately, in our current era of megafires and gigafires, a 90,000 acre fire is just another small kilofire. 

Through-hikers hike through a new forest

The Pacific Crest Trail, at Santiam Pass, goes right through the old fire zone and while temperatures were hot down in our valleys, a chill wind up here kept things cool as I set foot on the famed PCT. Although the story of this hike was walking 10 miles through a forest of ghostly white snags, there is a veritable young forest forming on the ground and it won’t be long before the epic views encountered on this day will once again be blocked by flourishing trees.

The PCT angled up through a burned forest for mile after mile

The Pacific Crest Trail headed steadily uphill in the open sunlight and incessantly switched back and forth across an open slope as it worked its way up to the craggy slopes of Three-Fingered Jack. In places, beargrass covered virtually every square inch of available soil below the forest of dead trees, imbuing the rough terrain with a parklike vibe. Beargrass blooms every other year and when it’s beargrass time on this section of the PCT, the results must truly be spectacular.

Huckleberry bushes decided summer is over and done with

A few of the usual late-summer flowering suspects were putting on a subdued show, those suspects being most notably light purple daisy-like aster and fleabane, bright red skyrocket, and occasional yellow rabbitbrush flowers. We are getting close to autumn’s song and accordingly huckleberry bushes were blazing red in vegetative mimicry of the B&B Fire.

Sun-bleached snags against a cobalt sky

There are a couple of side trails leading down to the Berley Lakes or Square Lake but my order of business was the Pacific Crest Trail and I stayed on track when I arrived at those enticing trail junctions. The trail climbed at a consistent rate of ascent and a steady stream of PCT through-hikers passed me by. Ninety-six year old great-grandmothers may have also passed me by, because my pace was as slow as a lethargic turtle going up all those miles of inclined trail, but I'm blaming the views and camera.

What a view!

The views became more and more astounding as the trail gained elevation, thanks in part to the B&B Fire clearing out the view-blocking forest. Directly south of the trail was the pointy spire of rugged Mount Washington with the Three Sisters looming further beyond. Periodically, Three-Fingered Jack waved hello with one of its non-middle fingers showing above the ridge crest directly in front. To the east was the symmetrical cone of Black Butte with the vast central Oregon outback stretching out into the summer haze. The surrounding geology and geography were spread out like a large-scale three-dimensional atlas diorama, all covered with a fuzzy white layer of ghostly white snags, left courtesy of the B&B Fire.

Some of those surrounding lakes and scenery

There were plenty of lakes scattered in all the topology cited above and to the east, lakes Booth, Martin, and Square reposed in the basin sprawling west of Black Butte. There is supposed to be a cross-country way to leave the PCT and hike down to Martin Lake and return by way of the Square Lake Trail but the jump-off point was not obvious, so I stayed on the PCT like a good boy.

A rare section of green forest

At about the four-mile mark, the trail left the burn zone for a real honest-to-goodness green forest. Good thing too, for the chill breeze had long since failed to be and the day was getting to be quite warm out in the exposed and treeless fire zone. I ate lunch at a rocky viewpoint overlooking an expansive vista of Maxwell Butte and surrounding terrain extending into the McKenzie River drainage.

View to the Mount Washington and the Three Sisters 

After lunch, it was back the way I had come but the major difference was that I was walking downhill (and there was much rejoicing) instead of slogging up to some higher unseen place in my life. Also, instead of staring at the grassy parklike slopes inclining upward in front of me, I very much enjoyed a wide and expansive five-mile view of Mount Washington, the Three Sisters, and an entire county of dead trees under a blue sky. Simply beautiful, and the entire day confirmed my feelings about hiking in an old burn zone.

Path through spent beargrass and dead trees

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

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