Waldo Lake (via Betty Lake)

Waldo Lake is justifiably famed not only for its amazingly clear water, but also for it's size. Statistically, it is Oregon's third largest natural lake and its ponderous bulk has certainly impressed me from different summits of various peaks ringing the sapphire blue lake. But just like Waldo of "Where's Waldo?" fame, Waldo Lake is not alone as the lake is surrounded by a crowd of lesser lakes dotting the forest like so many freckles on an overly sun-exposed backside. Any trail excursion leading away from Waldo Lake's immediate shoreline will undoubtedly run into one of these smaller lakes and today's hike would take me past several of them on my own little quest to find the ever so elusive Waldo.

The clarity of Waldo Lake is an attraction in its own right

After yesterday's Fuji Mountain outing was all wrapped up, I bid adieu to my friends and whereas they went back to Roseburg, I made the much shorter drive to Waldo Lake Road. After parking on a gravel turnout, I walked into the woods with a sleeping bag and tent and began setting up. Almost immediately, I frantically ran screaming out of the woods to grab the bottle of Deet sitting on the front seat. The incessant savagery of the winged Dracula spawn made the Fuji Mountain mosquito swarms seem like a peacenik convention in comparison.

Betty Lake in the early morning

Anyway, after a "restful" night listening to some large creature tromping through the forest next to my tent all night long, I set out on the Betty Lake Trail. Right at the start, the forest sloped away from the trail and I caught a glimpse of Lower Betty Lake hiding behind the trees. There is no trail leading to Lower Betty Lake and it would have been only a short bushwhack away, but I had other places to get to. Forgoing the bushwhack venture, I stayed on the upper side of Lower Betty and after maybe a half mile, a small use trail advertised the nearby presence of Betty Lake herself. Betty Lake was placid and serene, the surface lightly ruffled by barely perceptible air currents. It was here that I found out that if you keep walking, the mosquitoes are barely tolerable but when you stop hiking to say, take some photos of a beautiful lake, then its a fresh new hell for warm-blooded hikers, regardless of whether they have slathered on Deet or not. Yikes, I had forgotten what the Waldo Lake area in July was like!

Howkum Lake, asking "Howkum?" for all eternity

Anyway, Betty Lake was eminently beautiful and I toughed it out, quickly snapping off some photos of the peaceful lake before returning to the Betty Lake Trail. After another mile or so of hiking, Howkum Lake came into view, probably named that because BecuzIsedzo didn't fit on the trail sign. Or maybe some pioneering explorer asked "Howkum ther R so men E dang mozkitoes?" They spoke phonetically back in those days. The trail followed long and slender Howkum Lake and ominously named Horsefly Lake before coming to Tiny Lake, probably called that because it's really small. Or maybe that's what Betty Lake derisively calls him ever since they quit dating, just saying. Given a few more minutes, I could probably come up with some crude story of how Lower Betty Lake got her name but it's probably best if we just leave that one alone and continue hiking instead.

Numerous ponds supplied numerous mosquitoes

Leaving the small but named lakes behind, the trail went gently up and down through a thick forest that was pleasantly shaded. The track passed all sorts of little ponds and wet spots, which would explain in part, the ample mosquitude tormenting hikers in this part of the world. A right turn onto the Jim Weaver Trail (also colloquially referred to as the Waldo Lake Trail) took me onto a path that went downhill to Waldo Lake itself. For the next few miles, the trail followed the south shore of Waldo Lake, alternating between marshy meadows, shady forest, and open lake shore. The open shore was the most preferable biome to hike in, for while the views were stunning and all that stuff, the main attraction was the brisk breeze blowing across the lake and onto the shore, effectively preventing the little bloodsuckers from being able to motate in my direction.

The meadows were full of shooting stars

This area had obviously been covered with snow until just recently, for the meadows were basically shooting stars, grass, and marsh marigolds growing in several inches of mosquito-spawning standing water. Did I mention there were lots of mosquitoes, already? In some places the standing water completely covered the trail, including one thirty yard stretch of water nearly a foot deep. Needless to say, boots got plenty wet on this hike. They also got muddy too, as there were several squishy sections of trail that had been thoroughly churned up by passing mountain bikers.

Beargrass grew along the lake in places

However, despite my grumbling about marshy conditions, the meadows were just sublime with acres of green grass ringed by tall trees under a deep blue sky. Blooming in the meadows were white and yellow-centered marsh marigolds, somewhat resembling a floral version of fried eggs. They were brightly counterpointed by bright pink shooting stars and I have no culinary metaphor to describe them with. I also got to see my first beargrass blooms of the year, their feathery white plumes waving gently in the steady breeze wafting off the lake.

The South Waldo Shelter, where
mosquitoes prey on backpackers

I stopped at the South Waldo Shelter to rest for a minute and wax nostalgic. On an epic backpack trip around Waldo Lake years ago, we camped here at the shelter. That three-day trip was also done in July and despite the experience, Dollie is still married to me and John and Jennifer are still my friends. Reminiscing can be a pleasant hiking pastime, but not when that activity leaves you vulnerable to the singularly unpleasant experience of being exsanguinated one mosquito bellyful at a time, So, on with the hike!

Waldo Lake on a breezy day

Waldo Lake is a special place. Motors of any sort are absolutely prohibited on the lake, so the water quality is as pure as a mountain lake should be. The trail hugged the shoreline in places, offering amazing views of the lake made perpetually peaceful by the lack of buzzing boat motors. Nearby forested peninsulas and islands were equally scenic, with tranquil waterways separating islands and shore. The lake is ringed by mountains and across the vast blue expanse rose the Three Sisters and other lesser volcanic peaks. Much closer and on the east side were the symmetrical cones of Maiden Peak and The Twins. If this sounds a lot like the scenery description from my Fuji Mountain hike, that stands to reason for Fuji Mountain was right behind me as I gazed north across the large body of water.

Mama Duck escorts her brood to safety

I departed the trail for a bit to explore a meadowed peninsula and was startled when a male duck exploded into panicked quacking flight from virtually at my feet. Just about ten yards later, after my surprised heart  returned to its normal rhythm, the shoreline again exploded into feathery hysteria, only this time it was Mrs. Duck. However, Mrs. Duck only flew about 25 yards away and quacked out a series of sharp and urgent commands. Emerging from their hiding place in the shoreline grass, about eight downy ducklings swam over to her, whereas she escorted them to safety on the other side of the bay, quacking harsh epithets and curses in my direction all the while. After Papa Duck's sorry performance at the threat of danger posed by myself, I bet Mama Duck probably now refers to him as "Tiny" too.

My lunchtime companion

My turnaround point was at a scenic beach located on the southwest corner of the lake, inasmuch a roundish lake can have actual corners. It was time for a leisurely lollygag, taking in the magnificent alpine scenery surrounding Waldo Lake. Waldo's waters are amazingly ultraoligotrophic (that word means really really really really clear), making the bottom of the lake eminently visible, albeit tinted an amazing blue-green color by the crystalline water. A lake-loving bird came by to visit, entertaining me as it splashed and generally frolicked in the cold water lapping at the shore. I don't know my birds so I can't tell you what kind of bird it was but I can definitely state it wasn't a chicken, penguin, or ostrich, which are pretty much the full extent of my knowledge of all things bird.

View in the direction of the Three Sisters

The day had warmed up quite a bit on the return leg, plus there was a bit more uphill in that direction, so I was a sweaty dripping mess of goo when I made it back to the trailhead. It can get pretty humid in the forest on a hot day! Because I had camped pretty much at the trailhead, I had actually started hiking at 6:30 in the morning and as a consequence, my hike was finished just a little bit past noon. Evening would not arrive until another eight hours and the idea of warring with mosquitoes in the interim didn't sound all that appealing, so I cut this little trip short by one day. Bobby Lake and The Twins will have to wait for my next visit here. That's OK though, for on this trip I certainly felt like I had found Waldo.

Mid-day sun, slanting through the forest

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

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Fuji Mountain

Familiarity breeds contempt so they say. If true, then most of the trails in the Umpqua National Forest had to have become pretty contemptible by now because they had long since become oh so familiar to me and my hiking buddies. In a desperate search for something different, we decided to undertake a very long journey to far off exotic lands and that is the story of how we wound up on top of Fuji Mountain. And no, I'm not talking about iconic Mount Fuji in Japan but Fuji Mountain located instead in the Willamette National Forest near Oakridge. For some people, Oakridge might not qualify as a far off exotic land, but still it's pretty cool to say in a braggadocious way "I hiked to the top of Fuji today".

Drab flower in July, juicy huckleberry in August

The only other time I had hiked to Fuji Mountain was several years back, starting out that day from Waldo Lake Road and that turned out to be a long taxing hike where it was six all-uphill miles through mostly viewless forest from traihead to summit. Today's venture however, would be much kinder and gentler, consisting of the short route beginning from Road 5883, with some extra miles tacked on by taking the side trip to Verde Lake (in the mistaken belief we were at Birthday Lake) after the Fuji conquest.

Snow-covered trail

We'd been having a run of warm weather, so it was nice to begin walking through old snowdrifts laying on the ground in a shaded forest. Thanks to the snow, the air underneath the trees was refreshingly cool, like the air inside the beer cooler at your local convenience store. It was nature's air conditioning at its best! Unfortunately, the cool air went hand in hand with dense clouds of mosquitoes. The miniature vampire swarm was savagely ravenous and it was like an airborne piranha feeding frenzy, where we were the food being fed to the frenzied fish! It was definitely going to be a Deet day and my precious bottle of repellent was kept conveniently close at hand, as it was destined to get plenty of use.

Trail maintenance crew at work

The hike up to Fuji Mountain was not particularly exciting, just a steady uphill walk through woods with little or no undergrowth. The only thrill in this section of trail came from watching John whip out his saw and perform some impromptu trail maintenance. Edwin, Cleve, and Penny all assisted, while I photographed the activity. They will all go to hiker heaven for their good deeds. I'm not so sure I'm going with them because I think you actually have to do work to get into hiker heaven, and photography doesn't count.

Getting close to the Fuji summit now

After about a mile of steady uphill hiking, the trail began to switchback to and fro across a forested ridge that was part of Fuji Mountain proper. As we neared the ridge crest, the trees began to thin out and the trail traversed large patches of old snow as the terrain morphed from forest to full-on rocky. There were a few minor slips here and there in the snow but we all thankfully remained upright.

Godzilla hangs over the western skyline

One last switchback and one last uphill push on a bare and rocky slope delivered us to the top of Fuji, and now it was time to ooh and aah in earnest. Fuji sits on the boundary of the Waldo Lake Wilderness and its 7,144 foot height allowed us to peer down into the wilderness area like the hiking voyeurs we are. The landscape below was stunning but unfortunately, the sky above was a little on the dirty side, quite literally. There had been some buzz in the news about "Godzilla", a gigantic dust cloud from the Sahara Desert that blew across the Atlantic Ocean, triggering air quality alerts across the southern United States. Eventually, the monster cloud swung up north and as all good tourists should, made a visit to our beautiful state. All the way from Africa, there it was in its dirty brown glory, parked on the Oregon skyline surrounding Fuji Mountain. And we thought we had made a long journey on our drive from Roseburg!

Speaking of Saharan dust clouds...

So, the views were well hazed over and a tangible layer of brown stuff took away the normal blue color of the sky in places. In fact, to a man (and woman) we were remarkably uninformed about the Saharan dust cloud invader, we all instead supposed there had to be a wildfire nearby, thinking the dust cloud to be acrid fire smoke. At any rate, it was hard to see into the distance but the nearby views were still impressive.

Fantastic view from the Fuji summit

Waldo Lake is the crown jewel of its namesake wilderness, and the sapphire blue waters of Oregon's third-largest natural lake spread out below us in its forested basin while snowy Middle Sister, South Sister, Broken Hand, and Mount Bachelor rose up beyond the lake. Nearby Mount Ray was much smaller than Fuji and did not look so formidable from here, although it was large enough to hide Gold Lake reposing behind it. To the east were the symmetrical cones of Maiden Peak and The Twins, while small lakes dotted the forested terrain surrounding Waldo Lake. To the south rose the formidable snow-covered Diamond Peak massif and despite the haze, we could pick out Mount Thielsen and the peaks of Crater Lake, located further at quite some distance. I pointed out Yoran Peak which allowed me to trot out the old line "That peak's his'n and this peak's Yoran!" It's no accident I usually hike alone. Not all the sights were mountainous though, as the deep (and what I assume to be glacier-carved) Black Creek valley went on to join up with Salmon Creek first, and the Middle Fork Willamette River second, each with its own deep valley to rampage through.

We carefully pick our way down the trail

All of this was way cool and we enjoyed a lengthy view soak, taking in the splendor of it all, especially since by doing so, we were postponing an eventual reunion with the mosquitoes impatiently waiting for us to resume hiking in the forest. But alas, it was eventually deemed time to leave. Now, the hike to Fuji Mountain is only a three-ish mile round-trip hike, so clearly some extracurricular hiking was called for in order to justify the two-plus hour drive to the trailhead.

Jacob's ladder thrived in Fuji's rock gardens

We grabbed the Fuji Mountain Trail in the downhill direction, which obviously leads away from Fuji, heading toward the distant trail terminus at at Waldo Lake Road. We weren't going all that way though, our plan was just to hike no further than Birthday Lake. It was mostly downhill from Fuji and we weren't all that appreciative of the drop through the forest, for we were well aware we'd have to regain all that elevation again upon the return to our vehicles.

Sedge pokes through a layer of snow

As mentioned, the intended destination was Birthday Lake and as we walked, the trail took us past numerous stagnant ponds that answered the age-old philosophical question of where did all the mosquitoes come from. At an intersection with the South Waldo Lake Trail, we had a brief discussion about whether to continue on to Birthday Lake or alternatively, make the rather rigorous uphill pull to Island Lakes. It was at this point that my GPS sort of let me down, although to be honest. we can chalk up my little map reading woes to user error.

One small place of birth for millions of mosquitoes

I had purchased a new map program for the GPS, one with more detail than what I had been previously using. More detail meant it was hard to make out landmarks without unduly zooming in a lot closer. On the GPS screen, our trail was clearly visible, denoted by a square hiker symbol that was neatly pasted over the Birthday Lake area, preventing me from seeing important data like the name of the lake. So, when we reached the first lake, we all assumed it was Birthday Lake when in fact, it was much smaller and less scenic Verde Lake.

Verde Lake made for a second lunch stop

Oh well, the small lake made for another nice lunch and laze, where the only physical exertion came from slapping at persistently annoying mosquito clouds. When we resumed walking, all that nice downhill hiking became a tiring uphill slog through a mosquito-infested forest, made somewhat more taxing as the day had warmed up considerably since our morning start. There weren't enough snow drifts to cool us off at this point but I'm glad we persevered and made it to the finish, all of us happy with the day's work. Plus, each one of us can brag to our non-hiking friends "Hey, I hiked to the top of Fuji!"

Beautiful forest full of mosquitoes

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Waldo Mountain

The latest stop on the 2014 Waldopalooza Tour was the steep slog up Waldo Peak. While not particularly long, the hike certainly offered a stiff challenge in the form of 1,900 feet of elevation gain and one slight navigation issue. However the payoff, as with most mountain summit hikes, was well worth all the sweat and leg burn as the view of Waldo Lake and the chain of Cascade Range peaks predictably impressed.

I hit the monochrome button by mistake

The trailhead was beautifully shaded and seductively forested but the true personality of the Waldo Peak Trail became apparent in the first half-mile of the hike. After passing a cute little trailhead kiosk, the path shot straight up the mountain and quickly gained several hundred feet before one could say "Oh my god, this trail is steep!" Surely, I'd be working harder than a centipede lacing up all his hiking boots.

My view for 3+ miles

Fortunately, the grade eased up from that first initial trail torture and went from maliciously cruel to just uphill for the rest of way. The going was all forest and the morning sun filtered photogenically through the trees and rhododendron bushes. The forest floor was carpeted by dense clumps beargrass with my little path weaving its way through. 

Rhododendron bush

The guidebook I was using said to take a right turn at the 1.9 mile mark and turn right I did. However, the trail headed downhill with the same enthusiasm that it had came up with. I began to harbor grave doubts about the route after a half-mile of losing all that hard-won elevation gain. A quick consult with the GPS showed I was on a tie-in trail between the Waldo Mountain Trail and the Salmon Lakes Trail, darn it. I wonder how many other hikers went down this trail thinking they were on the way to Waldo Mountain?

Hike to the light, hike to the light!

At least I got to experience some extra uphill hiking as I made my way back to the Waldo Mountain Trail, sarcasm intended. Fifty yards later on the Waldo Mountain Trail, another trail junction showed up and the proper right turn was taken this time. The shady path followed a forested ridgecrest when suddenly all the trees ended and I walked out into bright sun. After all those miles in the shade, I felt like an albino cave salamander blinking in the blinding sunlight. The terrain was rocky with bright red huckleberry bushes dotting the trail as it made its way to the Waldo Mountain summit.

Room with a view

I didn't find Waldo, but I did find his lookout, a square cabin perched precariously atop the mountain. The views were outstanding with a superb airplanesque view of Waldo Lake below. To the north of the lake was the burn zone I had been in when I hiked to the Rigdon Lakes the weekend before. Rigdon Butte was ridiculously small and insignificant when seen from high up.

Why we hike

To the north stretched out a chain of Cascade peaks: Broken Top, South Sister, Middle Sister, Mount Washington, Three-Fingered Jack, Mount Jefferson, and a distant Mount Hood. A deep canyon had been carved out by the North Fork Middle Fork Willamette River with Lower Eddeeleo Lake perched precariously above the canyon. Views like this are why we hike uphill for miles and miles.

Showing its gills

Going down was quicker and easier than going up and it was a rather leisurely descent due to all the mushrooms growing along the trail. I became one with the trail, frequently laying prone taking pictures of all the mycological delights sprouting forth. All in all, it was a good day in the Waldo Lake Wilderness.

Short and warty, just like me!

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Rigdon Lakes Loop

In 1996, the Charlton Butte Fire swept down its namesake butte and went on a southerly rampage and several days later, over 10,000 acres of trees had been dispassionately vaporized like so many humans caught in a Martian death ray. However the happy evaporating of the forest came to an abrupt end when the fire ran into the impassable and watery barrier of fire-killing Waldo Lake. It was game over with final score being: Waldo Lake 1, Charlton Butte Fire 0.

Feel the burn!

Eighteen years later, the scar from the burn is still a large part of the Waldo Lake experience on Waldo's north end. The conflagration must have burned hotter than Hell in a heatwave, for there exist no live trees (other than young saplings and seedlings) for miles and miles. However, since the view is no longer cluttered by the forest, the Waldo Lake trail nowadays offers sweeping views of the lake and surrounding peaks. The flat lands north of Waldo Lake contain millions and millions of lesser lakes, it must be a rule that there be at least one lake for every million billion mosquitoes. And speaking of lesser lakes, the Rigdon Lakes loop sampler happens to be one of my favorite hikes despite the burn, or maybe even because of it.

Waldo Lake, in the early morning

After the Friends of the Umpqua hike the day before, Kevin and I both spent a damp and chilly night camped at the lake's north campground. The following morning, we parted ways and wished each other a good day's hike. He was off to explore Broken Top and I was doing a car-free hike as I was just going to walk from the campground to the Rigdon Lakes. It had indeed been a cold night and I started hiking with about 17 different layers of clothing to keep warm.

Waldo Lake panorama

The 22-mile Waldo Lake Trail circumnavigates the lake but generally stays in the thick forests surrounding the lake. Views of the lake are far and few between once out of the burn zone on the north end. However, there is a shoreline trail running from the North Waldo Campground to the Waldo Lake Trail just short of the Rigdon Lakes Trail junction. I grabbed the shoreline trail and enjoyed constant views of Waldo Lake while those using the Waldo Lake Trail just experienced dense forest. The Twins, Maiden Peak, Mount Ray, Fuji Mountain, and distant Diamond Peak were all eminently visible from the shoreline trail.

Surrounded by death

After the first half-mile or so, the trail left the green forest and entered an otherworldly moonscape, with the right side of the trail consisting of rocky outcrops and dead trees strewn about like giant toothpicks. On the left side was Waldo himself, the calm waters of the lake reflecting the early morning sky. Canoers and kaykers paddled by, the sound of their paddles carrying far in the still air. Death and destruction on one side, a happy lake on the other: it's a thin line between life and death and apparently the Waldo Lake Trail is the line of demarcation.

Mosquito hatchery

The Waldo Lake Trail does double duty as a mountain bike epic and I regularly had to step aside for the bikers. The bikers were cycling cautiously due to all the dead trees laying across the trail so there was no frantic diving for safety on my part. As I was taking pictures of a small pond next to the trail, a young lady cheerily came walking up the path and we exchanged pleasantries. She was hiking the entire 22 miles around the lake as a day hike! Up until then, I had been pretty proud of my 10 mile route.

A bridge crosses the mighty Willamette

At the 3.5 mile mark, the trail left the burn zone and entered a live forest that had to have been pretty nervous back in 1996 when the Charlton Butte Fire was doing its thing. The forest was pretty and all, but beautiful Waldo Lake was not at all visible, being totally obscured by the forest. At the very northwest corner of the lake, a wooden foot bridge crossed over a small stream. 

As I was walking, I saw a fair Maiden (Peak)

From small streams, mighty rivers flow and the small creek with a large name was actually the North Fork Middle Fork Willamette River which starts where Waldo Lake ends. At the lake's outlet is a backpack camp known as Dam Camp and I just had to go see the Dam Camp. In all my hiking, I've visited many a Dam Camp but this was the first Dam Camp that actually was officially named Dam Camp. Alright, that pun's been worked to death, let's move on.

The dead zone

After a lunch and laze at Dam Camp, I backtracked to the Waldo Lake Trail and then headed north on the Wahanna Trail. As previously stated, the relatively flat terrain north of Waldo Lake is dotted with small lakes, scattered there by some ancient finger flick of the gods. Here the destruction was utter and complete because even after 18 years, there are very few live trees and I was the tallest living thing within several parsecs.

North Fork Willamette River valley

To the left of the trail was the deep valley carved by of the North Fork Middle Fork Willamette River. There were a couple of small meadows in the valley and my map shows those meadows as actually being lakes. Obviously, by summer's end the lakes are as dry as an ex-wife's kiss. A small creek snaking through the meadow was the Willamette's small fork with the really long name. I had to have been looking directly at the Edeeleo Lakes but they remained hidden by the surrounding forests. It was an impressive vista.

Going in circles 'round Rigdon Butte

To the right of the trail was the craggy and tree littered rocky knob of Rigdon Butte. The loop trail I was on basically perambulated around the butte, touring past all the little lakes huddled at the butte's base like goslings under a mother goose's wings. The first of these lakes was Ernie Lake, sited and sighted about a half mile off trail, I won't even mention all the numerous other unnamed ponds and lakelets. Oops, I just mentioned them. The amount of standing water was astonishing and would certainly explain the prodigious amounts of mosquitoes devouring hikers in early summer. I speak about the mosquitoes from personal experience, as several of us had backpacked here several years ago. That was Dollie's very last backpack trip too, that might have something to do with the thick clouds of ravenous insect vampires encountered on that infamous trek.

Beautiful Lake Kiwa

Lake Kiwa is simply one of my favorite lakes in all of Oregon. The lake is long and slender and numerous peninsulas just invite hikers to pitch a tent on them. I really must come back with a pack and do a more extended lake tour in this area but that'll have to wait for next year as winter is quite near. Steep and rocky slopes surround the lake and the trail follows the shore for about a very scenic half-mile or before peeling uphill towards Lower Rigdon Lake.

Huckleberries, as red as an angry face 

Lower Rigdon Lake sits in a rocky bowl right below Rigdon Butte and the absence of trees only add to the drama in the scenery. There was a stillness about the lake, the absence of animal life indicating the fauna have headed elsewhere for the impending winter just like retirees overwintering in Arizona. The air was full of feathery fireweed seeds floating on the slightest breeze and I made sure to hike with my mouth closed.

Clouds reflect on Upper Rigdon Lake

Upper Rigdon Lake is virtually Lower Rigdon Lake's identical twin, its only distinguishment being a forested island bobbing in the lake. Again. the air was preternaturally still and the lake's surface was mirrorlike, reflecting quite nicely the surrounding snags and the incoming clouds.

Trail, as the rain clouds arrive

Ah yes, the clouds. A storm clearly was blowing in and the day darkened as the gray clouds scudded over. I fully expected to get wet before I reached the car but thankfully, the rain held off. At the trailhead, both I and a mountain biker entered the parking lot at the same time, but from opposite directions. We had previously exchanged pleasantries in the morning as we started our trail day pretty much at the same time, he had cycled his 22 miles pretty much in the same amount of time I had hiked my 10 miles. I'm not as slow as I feel, apparently.

Upper Rigdon Lake

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

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