Union Creek

Regular readers of my blog will note that this year there have been a few hiking fails, notably on my Sherwood Meadows and Roughrider Fall hikes. Well, we can add Union Creek to the thankfully short list, due to a badly overgrown trail that at times, resembled my back yard before its annual mowing. Obviously, I'd rather be out hiking than doing yard work.

Not much sunlight makes it to the forest floor

I had hiked Union Creek many years ago, but in that was in early spring. The creek was hard to see then as it was surrounded by a heavy and leafy growth of vine maple. My thinking was that here in September, the vine maples might be beginning their annual autumn fireworks so Luna and I headed to Union Creek, expecting this to be our first autumn hike of 2018. Well, to be clear, I was expecting autumn finery while Luna was simply happy to go out for a hike in the woods.

Decidedly un-yellow leaves

Even though peak season for the fall colors were just a few weeks away, the forest was disappointingly green. Disappointment is a matter of perspective because in spring and summer, I find the same green forest to be absolutely delightful. At any rate, apart from a few vine maples and dogwood trees just starting to blush yellow or pink in the sun, there wasn't much in the way of fall colors.

Always happy to get wet

What there was a lot of though, was dense tangles of vine maple and other assorted vegetation encroaching the trail. But at least the path was visible at the start. We could always hear nearby Union Creek but could not see it much due to the wall of green leaves between us and the creek. Occasionally, the path did get close enough to make visual contact with the creek, the tranquil pools not being so tranquil when an excited dog jumps in for a quick dip.

A rare clear section of trail

About a mile into the hike, we really began to fight the vegetation and I have the scratches on my arms and legs to prove it. Didn't seem to bother Luna much, but she remained firmly leashed to her less graceful yet incredibly handsome owner. If she were to take off in the brush, I'd lose sight of her within five feet. Anyway, we beat through intermittent patches of heavy brush and then the trail would be as easy to follow as a charismatic sect leader.

Sadly and truly, this is the trail

The intermittent quality of the overgrowth was lost right after we crossed a gravel road. From there it was continuous wading through chest high vegetation, the route visible only as a slightly less dense corridor of greenery. Soon, even that disappeared and the hike quickly degenerated into a bushwhack. It was all veritable jungle humidity and I was a drippy sweaty mess before long. Luna, cloaked in her sleek black fur, didn't seem to mind although her tongue was practically dragging on the ground as she panted. I called it good at the two mile mark, not wanting to continue doing this for another two miles to Union Creek Falls.

Dogwood, providing a hint of things to come

So back we went, fighting the same old brush on the way back. But when life gives you an overgrown trail for a hike, you turn it into a photo shoot. The dense tangle of trees and brush were photogenic, delighting dog, hiker, and camera alike. Periodically we'd bushwhack to the bubbling creek for either a photograph or an exuberant swim or wade, depending on whether you were human or dog. At least fighting the brush became easier the closer we got to the small hamlet of Union Creek.

Small cascade on Union Creek

When I got home, I found a friend of mine had sent me an email invitation to go hiking with her on the Union Creek Trail. Hmm, I wonder if she avoids yard work too. At any rate, I was able to warn her about the poor trail conditions. But while my hike was an epic fail in terms of getting an eight mile hike in, it still was a lot more fun than mowing the back yard!

Sketchy path through the woods

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

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New Year's Day snowshoe hike

This was supposed to be a short snowshoe hike to Summit Rock but starting at the right trailhead would have helped. Even though all of us were scouting for the Summit Rock road as we drove on Highway 138, we still managed to somehow miss it, winding up instead at another forest road about 4 miles east of the Summit Rock turnoff. Further adding to the confusion was a sign at a three way junction at the start of the hike which said Summit Rock was 4 miles away.  Of course, the same sign said Chemult was 27 miles away and the sign was quite mute as to which of the three forks would take us where. Nothing like starting the new year by not knowing where we were, where we were going, and how to get there. 

94 miles in snow?
I like the sound of that!

I had a GPS but could not find Summit Rock on it because at the time we had not yet deduced we were starting at the wrong road and I was looking for the rock in the wrong quadrant. At the aforementioned three-way junction, the middle fork headed north and offered a nice view of snowy Mount Thielsen and for no other reason, we (John, Katsuaki, Merle, and yours truly) grabbed the middle fork.

Katusaki leads the way

There wasn't a lot of snow but there was enough to shoe on as the road descended gently through the trees. It was a gloriously sunny day and the temperature was in the high 20's. Despite the chill, several layers of clothing were shed as we soon warmed up from the exertion.

Snowshoe hares have been busy 

There wasn't a lot to see, it was just a pleasant walk through trees with their shadows mottling the pristine white blanket of snow. Snowshoe hare tracks crisscrossed the road and occasionally some predator tracks showed up too. Despite the lack of human activity here, the snowy wilderness is indeed a busy place, judging by the number of critter tracks.

Photo session

At just under the 2 mile mark, the road unceremoniously ended at a loop turnaround in the woods. So what do 4 guys do when they don't really know where they are? Why, leave the road and head off through the forest, and we didn't even stop to ask for directions. Trails are so overrated anyway. We headed northeast with some vague notion of either reaching the Pacific Crest Trail or getting a nice view of nearby Mount Thielsen. We didn't know it at the time but we were already at the base of the mountain, it'd have been a pretty good pull uphill to get to any vantage points.

Katsuaki and the blessed flask

After a short stretch of heading gradually uphill by stepping over logs and pushing past young trees we cleared the snow off a large fallen tree and ate lunch. Katusaki earned the Hiker Most Likely to Get Re-Invited Award when he whipped out a flask of whisky. The potent brew took our breath away but it certainly made a nice little glowing warm spot in our insides.

Discussing the options

While sitting on the log, I was finally able to find Summit Rock on the GPS, turns out we were about 3 miles east and just a little bit to the north of the rock. There was some discussion about going cross-country to the rock but that was all put to rest when we found out it'd be three-plus miles back to the car after that.

On the way back

Oh well, so back we go and navigation was simple as all we had to do was follow our clearly visible tracks in reverse. However, the the hike back was much tougher as the snow had become quite sticky as it warmed up in the sun, it had the consistency of ice cream left out a little too long at the party. The snow stuck to the bottom of our snowshoes, reminding me of hiking in wet clay.

Speaking of flick and kick...

Merle and Katsuaki took off their shoes but they both found the hiking no less tedious as they slipped and slid on the forest road slush. I tested out several methods of keeping the snow from accumulating on the shoes. There was the "shake and bake", the "shuffle-step" and the "felonious assault" which consisted of beating on the shoes with my hiking poles. In the end, I found the most expedient method was the "flick and kick" which consisted of flicking the shoe by sharply pressing my toes into the shoe on the back step. The hinged shoe joint then flicked (if successful) the sticky snow into oblivion. It still was tedious and tiring, though.

Happy New Year!

So, in the end this was just a bunch of guys walking in the woods and going nowhere in particular. I can't think of a better way to start the new year!  For more pictures of this hike, please visit the Flickr album.

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Brown Mountain

It definitely was time for some mental floss.  I've been having a crappy attitude that comes with working and not getting paid due to the government shutdown. Watching little men with big egos endlessly bloviate and palaver on TV, posturing for meaningless sound bites while my salary is held in abeyance is just not healthy. It was time to seek peace and enlightenment on the trail where the only things to be held hostage are my leg muscles.

The Pacific Crest Trail calms angry government workers

Starting out at the Summit Sno-Park at the foot of Mount McLaughlin, I followed the shady Pacific Crest Trail downhill towards busy Highway 140. The trail followed the dry Cascade Canal which looked less like a canal and more like a seasonal creek. I'm not entirely sure but I think the canal was a misguided and heretical attempt to drain water from Fourmile Lake down to Fish Lake.  

A tribe of fungi

Autumn has come to the Cascades as the thimbleberry leaves on the forest floor were turning yellow while white snowberries and red rose apples graced their respective bushes and shrubs.  Mushrooms of various shapes and colors sprouted forth from fallen trees, decaying logs, earth, and pine duff. Not even a mile into the hike, and already I could feel mellowness enter my soul.

River of black rock, no diving allowed

After crossing Highway 140, the PCT crossed the High Lakes Trail, a rather utilitarian hiking trail that connects Fish Lake and Lake of the Woods. Shortly after, the trees suddenly ended and spit me out into acres of black basalt.  The rocks had been delivered courtesy of Brown Mountain which was unseen somewhere above me while rivers of rock tractored downhill through the forest.

The Pacific Crest Trail

A lot of work had gone into constructing the PCT in this stretch as the trail had been dynamited into existence through the black lava flows; the trail bed afterwards was filled with red volcanic cinder. The trail tread was brightly visible in the black geology and all one has to do is follow the Red Brick Road, so to speak.

A pictorial metaphor of my mood

Naturally, vegetation is somewhat challenged to gain a foothold in the lava fields but chinquapin didn't seem to have a problem as large tracts of the bushes flanked the trail. Chinquapin is fairly nondescript as plants go but their spiny seed pods are quite distinctive and the trail was littered with the "porcupine eggs".

This is why we hike

Climbing steadily on the flanks of Brown Mountain, the trail soon offered sublimely expansive views of Mount McLaughlin, its cone lightly frosted as a freshly made doughnut. Periodically, Fish Lake (or part of it, anyway) could be seen in a forested bowl below the majestic volcano. Much photography ensued as I gained elevation.  

Thimbleberry, going all autumn on us

At the three mile mark, the trail reached a crest with the last view of McLaughlin before dipping into viewless forest.  It was the logical turnaround point and I enjoyed a lengthy lunch in the cool sun while soaking in the panoramic vista figuratively laying at my feet.  On the way back down to the car, the PCT kept me pointed at Mount McLaughlin and I never tired of the view.  Mental floss, in the first degree.

A glimpse of the future

For more pictures stop by and visit the Flickr album.

Winter Ridge

Winter Ridge is appropriately named, based on our experience there. The night temp had dipped into the high 20's and I spent the night huddling inside my sleeping bag, curling myself into the smallest human ball possible just to keep warm. But hey, that's what morning campfires are for and John and Merle had fired one up and we huddled round the fire until the sun came up.

Merle and John search for a trail

Winter Ridge is accessed by the John C. Fremont National Recreation Trail and sadly, the trail was in poor shape. Beetles had killed a lot of the trees in the forest and dead trees have a tendency to topple over and lay across a trail. One tree, no problem; many trees, and the trail tends to disappear and that was the state of things. At one point we lost the trail altogether but not to worry, all we had to do is keep the Winter Ridge dropoff on our right and we could make slow progress along the ridge.

My loyal followers

Perseverance provides rewards and we were rewarded by a faint trail tread with a minimum of trees on top of it about a mile into the hike. After passing through a gate the trail left the ridge crest and headed downhill through a series of meadows flanked by picturesque Ponderosa pines and quaking aspens. Unbeknownst to us  at the time, we had again lost the Fremont Trail and we were on a side trip to Currier Springs.

Hiker trough at Currier Springs

Currier Springs is a highly developed trailhead for the horse riding crowd, what with stout corrals and the spring waters being piped into a series of horse troughs.  All this while us hikers had not even a trail to hike on. I'd say lucky horses, but then again I don't have to carry anybody with spurs on my back, either, unless it's for fun.  And it's not fun. Well, not to me, anyway. Can someone help me get out of this paragraph?

Follow the cairns

At any rate, a short half-mile trail took us back to the Fremont Trail from Currier Springs and we were back in business, sort of. It was the same old faint trail on the ridge but fortunately a series of waist-high cairns marked the way like a yellow brick road for hikers.  

Great views of Summer Lake were a constant

Periodically, we would bushwhack to the edge of Winter Ridge and soak in the view of Summer Lake, a dizzying 3,000 feet below. John Fremont  had explored this area and also dropped down to the lake without benefit of a forest road or established trail. They were a pretty hardy bunch, in those days.

Uh oh, here comes the snow

There was a prominent point that was the logical place to turn around at but there was talk among us about continuing on further along the rim. However, just as we started to struggle through the low growing brush on the point, clouds came in and covered up the blue sky. A wall of belligerent storm system was scudding across Summer Lake, kicking up dust storms in front. Much to our surprise and consternation, the air was soon swirling with small snow flakes. There was no more talk of continuing on further.

A wintry Summer Lake

So we methodically worked our way back along the ridge in the snow storm. We did follow the Fremont Trail along the section we had strayed from, I'm not sure how we missed it because the tread was fairly easy to follow on the return leg. I do know how Merle and John missed the trail: they had simply followed me when I made the wrong turn. After the tedious slog in the last mile of fallen trees we returned to our campsite along Rock Creek.

John sleeps and dreams of dancing elves

The rest of the day was spent huddled around a large campfire, telling stories and anecdotes while snow swirled around. The snow was not sticking so despite the elements, it was a most enjoyable to spend the day. By the late afternoon, the clouds dissipated as we headed into a very cold night. That was not so much fun.

The beginning of a very cold night

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

Seven Lakes Trail

Just south of our beloved Crater Lake National Park lies the rectangular Sky Lakes Wilderness. The wilderness is chock full of lakes surrounded by mountains and is a hiker's and backpacker's delight. Well, the delight part depends on the time of year as the sheer lakiness contributes to a horrifying amount of mosquitoness. There are so many mosquitoes in July that if they were to all flap their wings in the same direction, the earth would be knocked off its axis. It's much better to hike in the Sky Lakes Wilderness in late summer when the lakes and trails are lined with huckleberries and blueberries in a mosquito-free environment.

Hi ho, hi ho, it's on a hike we go!

The Seven Lakes Basin, while located in Sky Lakes Wilderness, is cut off and isolated (just like me!) from the rest of the Sky Lakes by the mountains of Jupiter, Devils Peak, Lee Peak, and the ridge connecting the three summits. My intentions were to either hike to all seven lakes or else to make the long trek to Lake Ivern, the most remote of the seven lakes. This was to be the last hike on my vacation and I had gotten into some pretty lethal shape.  However, because it was my vacation, I slept in simply because I could, resulting in a starting time a tad bit late  for an 18 mile hike.

Frog Lake

The first four miles consist of a pretty good uphill push through viewless forest. The only break in the relative monotony is Frog Lake which is not considered to be one of the seven lakes. The small lake lay at the foot of Venus, a celestially named peak (along with Jupiter, the next peak over from Venus) while the sky above was pretty hazy due to all the wildfires in eastern Oregon and southern Idaho.

It's the Devil!

Topping out at just under 7,000 feet at a pass on Violet Hill, the trail dropped down into the lakes basin and then the cool stuff started. The first cool thing was Devil's Peak, the mountain that dominates most of the views in the basin. A rocky lava thumb protrudes asymmetrically from the top, reminding me of my bicycle accident several weeks ago: no doubt my head had sported some asymmetric protrusions a la Devil's Peak. Avalanche slopes and cliffs decorated and adorned the mountain's face all the way down to yet-to-be-seen Cliff Lake.

Green tiger beetle

What appeared to be waves of flies fleeing in front of me turned out to be, on closer inspection, green tiger beetles. I lost some time taking pictures of the skittish beetles, thanks to my telephoto lens.

South Lake

The first of the Seven Lakes was South Lake, scenically reposing below Violet Hill and an unamed, albeit prominent, rocky knob with an impressive pile of rocks at its base. From there, a short walk around the knob led to a more imposing view of Devil's Peak and the aptly named Cliff Lake.

Cliff Lake is the most visited lake in the basin

Cliff Lake is arguably the crown jewel of the lakes basin, affording ground level views of Devil's Peak and yes, there is a cliff located at the southwest corner of the lake. The Seven Lakes Trail stayed above the lake and much picture taking ensued.

Middle Lake

Call me a centrist, but I much prefer Middle Lake over Cliff Lake on the far left and South Lake on the far right. Continuing with the politics analogy, way out there beyond South Lake is a muddy pond and a metaphor for the Tea Party. Clear and pristine, Middle Lake's transparent waters lapped soothingly upon the shore below the rocky ridge that is Violet Hill. Huckleberries grew abundantly along the shore and my lips and fingers were soon stained purple as is my wont this time of year.

Grassy outlet of North Lake

The trail then dropped, losing elevation rapidly on a descent to North Lake. North Lake is not directly on the trail but a short walk up the grassy but dry outlet creek delivered me to the underwhelming lake. Situated in a grassy meadow, the shallow lake is more bog than lake.

You see trail, I see huckleberry bushes

It was now decision time as to whether to continue to remote Lake Ivern or not. Several factors weighed into the decision: time, miles, and elevation gain. The lake was several miles away and the out and back would add 3 miles to what was already a 13 mile round trip hike. Plus, the descent to the lake would add an extra 500 feet of climb on the return leg which really isn't all that bad but I was already committed to 2,200 feet back to the crest of Violet Hill. And by my reckoning, it was debatable as to whether a return to the car in daylight was possible. So I turned around and headed back the way I had come.

The rocky knob overlooking South Lake

On the way back, I took a brief side trip to a point where I could make out Grass Lake through the trees. So, that meant 5 out of 7 lakes were visited and that is a passing grade in any school.

For the rest of the pictures please visit the Seven Lakes Basin photo album in Flickr.