Baker Beach and Alder Dunes

Several years ago, I was looking for a new trail out on the Oregon coast, somewhere I'd never been. Such places are a rare find for me because it seems like I've hiked on every trail in southern Oregon that there is to be hiked on. While not necessarily true, my desperate search for a path which had never felt the glorious stomp of an O'Neill boot led me to a late night Google Earth perusal. Whoops, there it was! In the Alder Lake area, was a faint path bisecting a grouping of small dunes collectively known as Alder Dunes. Of course, the sketchy path disappeared from the prying and spying satellite eyes in outer space when it entered dark patches of forest. Maybe I was overly optimistic but it did not escape my attention that what presumably was the same path also exited the forest. 

Berry Creek reaches the end

Later, my friends were dragged onto my new trail and apparently Lane liked that hike (and what's not to like?) and so he penciled a repeat Alder Dunes adventure onto the Friends of the Umpqua's schedule. It was like a Richard Hike without any of the awesome responsibility of well, being responsible, so I went along for the sheer joy of hiking on sketchy trails. Because of the faint trails and network of braiding game paths, Lane insisted everybody hike together instead of our usual laissez-faire approach of everybody hiking at their own speed. Doing that in these conditions greatly increased the likelihood of finishing with the same amount of hikers we started out with, although the head count was complicated by one hiker joining us mid-hike and one other having to leave us due to a flat tire discovered at the trailhead.

Hiking is fun!

Beginning at Dune Lake, which has no dunes nearby, we grabbed the faint path into Alder Dunes, which has no alder growing nearby either. But if we only named places after nearby natural features, then we'd be starting from Lake Lake and hiking through Dunes Dunes, wouldn't we? The smallish expanse of Alder Dunes was bordered by a thick forest and our path immediately faded into the heavy vegetative undergrowth. Even though some hikers were just a few feet in front of me, they too were swallowed up from sight by the dense greenery. At times the way was discerned only by picking out the spot where the scratchy brush was marginally not as thick, like a trail had once been there several decades ago.

Mushrooms surprisingly thrive in the sandy dunes

After a few quick walk-by perusals of some seasonal ponds and lakes, the loose network of horse trails, game tracks, and social paths spit us out onto Baker Beach Dunes. Wide and expansive, just like me, these are real dunes and we enjoyed hiking along the edge thereof in the morning sunlight. It's actually a pretty cool hike to follow the edge of the dunes but we had a different task today, chiefly to hike over to Lilly Lake.  

Berry Creek, with the end in sight

Lilly Lake is a prominent landmark in the Baker Beach area but you can barely see the small lake, for it's well hid by a thick cover of cattails and reeds. Much cooler, vista-wise, is the Berry Creek Loop and after visiting Lilly Lake, we hiked around puddles of water standing on the trail overlooking the wild hinterlands of marshes, swamps, dunes and wide Berry Creek itself. I've stepped over shallow Berry Creek when hiking on nearby Cape Mountain and it's hard to reconcile that diminutive trickle with the near-river arrogantly sashaying through the marshes just before ending its journey on the beach.

Lane demonstrates the proper climbing technique

Back when I took the club on this hike wilder than most, we returned by bushwhacking through the marshes. A hidden sinkhole claimed Edwin and I as victims and the swim killed my camera. In keeping with the adventuresome aspect of this trek, Lane took us up the dunes flanking Berry Creek, but prudently avoided the marshes (and at least one sinkhole!) lurking behind the dunes. The creek had cut the dunes like a giant knife halving sandwiches (dunes...sand...sandwiches, get it?), and it was actually quite the challenge to climb up a sheer cliff made out of soft shifting sand. 

Sadly and truly, this really is the trail

From there it was a short walk atop the dunes crest on small ad hoc paths weaving between hummocks of beachgrass swaying in a light breeze. And after that mild adventure, it was a return, all of us together in one group, through the faint trails in the forest and dunes. It sort of reminded me of kindergarten where we had "If lost..." name tags enumerating our vitals such as school, parents, and our parent's phone numbers. Maybe next time I lead a hike, I'll insist on everybody wearing such tags, but then Mrs. O'Neill might have to claim me.

They say on dark stormy nights you can hear
her mournful cry "Where is the #$%@ trail!"

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Sutton Creek

"I'll go with you, but take it easy on me!" says Dollie. What is this? My brother David said the same thing several hikes ago. It's like this vast conspiracy to keep hikes short. And probably downhill too! Well, let it be known I've had enough and will no longer yield to the forces of trail oppression, it is time to stand up and shout to the heavens "We will hike 10 miles uphill and you will LIKE it!"  Yeah, you are all correct, I just bowed my head and meekly said "Yes, dear".

Coastal forest above the trail

Sutton Creek was chosen because it is easy (unless the trail is underwater like the last three times I've been there), on an easy to follow trail (unless you go cross-country and bushwhack like the last two times I've been there), and fairly short (unless you go through Baker Beach Dunes and loop back from the mouth of Sutton Creek, like the last time I was there). Sigh.

Heh, heh, heh

We started at Dune Lake, just off of Highway 101, and immediately headed uphill on a sandy track from the day use area at the lake. The trail was comprised of soft sand that taxed calf muscles and I silently laughed "heh heh heh" at Dollie as we hiked. A faint path took us on a steep climb on soft sand (tee hee, again) up to the Alder Dunes area.

Alder Dunes and me without a trail

Here the trees thinned out and the dunes were pretty much covered in beachgrass. From past experience, there is a faint path that would keep us on the north side of Sutton Creek which would then allow us to get to the beach without having to wade across Sutton Creek. However, I was unable to locate the path so I just faked it and acted like I knew exactly where we were going.

Typical scenery on this hike

So, straight across the dunes we go to the other side where we picked up the Alder Dunes Trail which took us into a thick forest with actual packed dirt for trail tread, darn it. The forest was wonderfully shaded and the mottled light kept a certain camera-toting hiker happy, despite the tame hiking conditions. 

Rhododendron, catching a few rays

Rhododendrons were no longer blooming, but their leaves caught the light nicely for the camera. Besides the tall rhodies, the forest sported a thick and impenetrable undergrowth of salal and coastal huckleberry. The vegetation hulked over the trail and it seemed like we hiked through an endless series of dark tunnels. I'm glad to report that despite the ominous appearance of the tunnels, no deer lay in wait for us innocents. 

Bridge over Sutton Creek

After several miles, the path crossed Sutton Creek on a stout footbridge. The creek flowed languidly in keeping with our hiking pace and the water was stained brown-red by tannin accumulation, or so I presume. For the remainder of the hike, the creek would flow within sight below the trail.

Sutton Creek, near the beach

We rejoined civilization when the trail spit us out into the paved Holman Vista parking lot. From there, a very short walk on a boardwalk provided a look down at the creek. It was much cooler to actually walk in soft sand down to the creek's edge. The forest ended here and a broad marshy plain lay behind the beach foredunes with Sea Lion Point rising above it all to the north. We deliberated about wading across the creek and walking to the beach but a chill wind blowing briskly dissuaded us of that notion. Plus, I was obligated to take it easy on a certain participant.

Shady trail

So back the way we went...well, not exactly. We stayed on trail this time, eschewing the cross-country walk across the dunes in an attempt to finish the hike quicker. Tongue tacos at Los Compadres Taqueria in Florence were calling me from across the sands and that's what I call "taking it easy", unless you consider the hot sauce.

"Come into my parlor" said the deer to the hikers

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Baker Beach Dunes

After a camp meal, grandsons Daweson, Issiah, and your merry blogster went for an after-dinner walk around pristine Baker Beach Dunes. On the dunes, we ran into a hiking couple doing the same thing from the nearby car campground. During the exchange of pleasantries, my two young charges puffed out their chests and with a great deal of pride Daweson blurted out "We're hiking!"

"No," corrected his younger sibling "we're backpacking!"

On their first Richard Backpack

The two boys had been wanting to backpack in the worst way and I finally relented and set up a short 5'ish mile route from Baker Beach to Sutton Creek.  However, when I'm in charge it's a Richard Hike and why should this weekend be any different just because I have 9 and 12 year old companions in tow? The route basically followed the western edge of the dunes but as we left the dunes behind and entered the woods, the trail tread soon disappeared under a foot of standing water.

I'm not even sure why they brought shoes

Boys being boys, as soon as we hit the sands of the dunes, footwear came off and they hiked barefoot with shoes in hand. As we entered the wet-footed portion of the trail, the squishy sensation of mud oozing up between the toes was not much of a deterrent but the further we went along the trail the deeper the water became. Finally when the water level nearly reached my waist, it was time for a Plan B as hiking in the deep end of the pool is not allowed.

Splish splash!

We retreated back to the dunes and crossed the wide expanse of smooth sand. Baker Beach Dunes are not as large as popular Dellenback Dunes but they are less visited than Dellenback and are generally unsullied by human footprints. There is just something about gently undulating swells of pristine sand touched only by coastal breezes. Of course, the aesthetic qualities of the dunes were somewhat lost on the boys who tend to look upon the dunes as one big cat-turdless sandbox to play in. Packs and all, they were soon sliding and rolling down the dunes, the concept of actually walking across the sands being totally lost on them.

Our home for the night

We set up camp on the eastern edge of the dunes with a great overlook of an unnamed lake. Right away the boys lamented the fact they had no swimming trunks so I told them to skinny-dip.  "Skinny dip, what's that?" they chorused and before I could finish explaining the concept, their empty clothes fluttered to the ground and two naked boys were swimming in the lake. It was kind of like hiking with Lane and Dale.

A darn fine sunset

After setting up tents, they boys hit the dunes again and for some odd reason, they just had to frolic on the sand in their shorts. It didn't matter there were hours and hours left in they day, all that time had to be used for the sole purpose of play. I too played in my own little way, using the time to harvest pictures of the minimally clothed boys capering in the dunes. The photos will be saved for later use, such as when they graduate from high school. This went on until the sun went down and speaking of which, it was mostly a darn fine sunset too, even though a bank of clouds took away the last-light-of-day denouement. 

Morning view from our campsite

We were up and at 'em bright and early the next day and I think the boys did not find taking camp down to be all that much fun, especially when Grandpa barked out commands like the meanest drill sergeant ever. Extra-especially when all that sand was within sight of our camp, just waiting to be played on. 

At play in the world's biggest sandbox

On the way out, the boys wanted to tear across the dunes but I forbade them from doing so, telling them we had an obligation to at least leave this portion pristine and untouched for the next hikers to enjoy. It was then that Issiah said something that told me I had done the right thing. "Grandpa," he said "are there bugs that bite and their venom is such that your hair falls out?"

"Not that I know of", I replied

He pondered my answer for a bit "Oh, I thought that might have happened to you!"

Awesome and in the face

Okay, that was not "the moment" but this was: as he was forcefully expressing his opposition to leave-no-trace dune hiking, he stopped and gazed out across the dunes from our overlook. He noticed the grassy foredunes across the sandy expanse; he saw the ocean shimmering in the morning sun; the ponds serenely reposing in the low spots; the wind-made ripples on the sands; he recited to me all the things he was suddenly seeing and the boy certainly has a keen eye for detail. After telling me all the things he liked about the view he capped it off with "I feel like I'm staring awesome in the face." And if that's not awesome and in the face, then I don't know what is.

Baker Beach Dunes in the late afternoon

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Baker Beach Dunes

It's like my grandmother always used to say "When life gives you lots of wind, make wind puppets". Well, to be honest, she probably actually never said that and besides which, I have no idea what a wind puppet is. But that's my segue and I'm sticking to it.

The (not so) aptly named Dry Lake

Originally, the plan called for a rainy day hike out at the coast, the route being a 10 mile loop within the Cape Mountain horse trail system just north of Florence. Unfortunately, the plan would wind up getting blown far and away by the wind. However, wind was not an issue at the start of the hike from the Dry Lake trailhead, although the predicted rain was coming down and Dry Lake was not very dry. As a matter of fact not much was dry at all, including your sodden blogster  It had been raining heavily all week and most of Oregon was dutifully alert, having been rightfully placed on flood watch.

Trail omen

A short uphill walk on a mossy and ferny trail through tangled trees brought me within sight of the crest of Cape Mountain. The walk also brought me within earshot too, as through the trees the wind shrieked annoyingly shrill like an ex-wife. On the crest, tall trees kept time to the wind's music by dancing the lambada, the mashed potato, or the funky chicken. In a clear generational divide, younger trees simply twerked. Several large branches lay strewn across the trail in clear warning to a certain lone hiker with a sounds-like-a-dare mentality.

Time to play in the sandbox

Since it takes just one solitary branch to ruin a good hike, I uncharacteristically did the right thing and turned back. So what's a dressed up incredibly handsome hiker to do? Well, right across Highway 101 from the Cape Mountain turnoff was Baker Beach Road and while I might get sandblasted by the wind, at least falling trees would not be a problem. And on the plus side, prolonged exposure to wind-driven sand might be just the thing for my acne.

Um...not today

You just have to be in the mood to hike on the beach in a wind and rain storm and on this day I wasn't. So, I instead grabbed the trail that headed towards the dunes and within 100 yards it was time to make a decision at a Y-intersection. The left fork headed slightly uphill on a sandy track to Alder Lake and the right fork was under several feet of water.  Hmmm....so many tempting and difficult decisions at the start of a hike. Uncharacteristically again, I opted for the drier and tamer left fork.

Sand art

The dunes were somewhat sheltered behind the tall beach foredunes at Baker Beach, so the wind wasn't too bad and the rain also eased up a bit. I dropped off the path to Alder Lake and stepped out onto the sandy expanse of the dunes. The wind had been busy making art by fingerpainting on a large sandy canvas, leaving dunes decorated and patterned with all manner of swirls, curls, and whirls. It seemed downright sacrilegious to defile the artwork with my footprints so I generally stayed close to the forested edge of the dunes in the hiking equivalent of coloring inside the lines.

Wet spot

Because of the rain, the sand was wet and generally windproof. The lighter grains of sand were driven by the wind but mostly stayed below knee level except for when cresting a dune, at which point my poor face received the stinging brunt of the sand-laden breeze. Below my impromptu route, small lakes and large marshes discouraged cross-dune hiking to the beach. 

Please do not feed the alligators!

Life is tenuous here, and several stands of dead and half-buried trees testified to the terrible cost of war between sand and forest. But life is yin to death's yang and several patches of mushrooms surprisingly thrived in solid sand below the dead trees. The eastern edge of the dunes was bordered by a large unnamed lake surrounded by an abundance of fetid seeps containing black water, each lacking an alligator or two for a proper swamp effect. 

After the Jupiterian death ray

The sands here were different than my more usual sandy haunts (like Dellenback Dunes) in that the lighter and blacker grains of sand pooled around the many dimples on the dune surface, giving the dunes an odd singed look as if the terrain had been blasted by a Jupiterian death ray. If so, then the deer still survived.

The Three Sisters (of the dunes)

After a couple of miles, the southern terminus of the dunes was reached and there was no more walking south. The dunes here ended rather abruptly, overlooking a tangled mess of alder and conifer trees. A nice view of the forested depression of the Sutton Creek drainage was had from the sandy rim. Despite all the trees below me, I just knew there was nothing but standing water underneath the forest canopy, and I base that surmise on past hiking experiences in the Sutton Creek area.

Mushrooms in sand

After eating lunch while rain pitter-pattered on my hat brim, I explored several small fingers of sand dunes before finally running out of sand to walk on. Coming out of the forest onto the dunes was a well-used sandy path that was the trail connecting Sutton Creek to Baker Beach. Remember the right fork submerged under several feet of water?  I did, so I stayed in the dunes, saving the path for a substantially more dry-footed hike in summer.

Oasis in the desert

Bisecting the Baker Beach dunes was a large marsh and on the return leg I went left around the marsh instead of right. Well, right was right and left was wrong in this case as I found myself wading through thicker and thicker brush, my only reward being a wade through deep water if I so chose. So a backtrack was enacted and the correct route around the marsh was taken. 

As the weather turned bad

The weather became decidedly belligerent about 15 minutes away from the trailhead. It was near tornadic conditions as the wind picked up in intensity, the raindrops became fatter and wetter, lightning flashed overhead, and loud booms of thunder spurred a certain lone hiker to hike back to the car spastically fast like a wind puppet.

Test pattern

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

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Baker Beach

This hike had a couple of little ironies.  First, Lois got a speeding ticket in her haste to begin an activity that takes place at a leisurely 2 miles an hour. The other ironic moment occurred when I stepped in a sinkhole while wading through a marsh, making me the only hiker out of the 21 attendees that experienced a true Richard Hike experience.

What happens when I Google Earth late at night

The genesis for this hike came late one night when perusing Google Earth. Looking at the Alder Dunes area, a faint footpath led from dune to dune, seemingly going all the way to the Baker Beach area. So, a mid-week exploratory scouting trip was penciled in, starting at Dune Lake.

Alder Dunes view

From little Dune Lake, the sandy footpath followed a series of small dunes collectively known as Alder Dunes. On the right side of the trail, the dunes sloped up to where presumably one could have views of lakes Alder, Mussel, and Nott.  Of course, that would involve gaining about 100 feet in steep and soft sand, it was more comfy to stay on the path.

Hiking on what amounts to a game trail

On the satellite photos, the trail passed through seven dunes but it seemed more like four from actual ground level. The trail was always visible but the problem is that the trail braided with other trails and more than once I mentally flipped a coin to decide whether to take the right or left fork. It was more confusing than the federal tax code. I don't think there really was a wrong way or a right way to get from Dune Lake to Baker Beach Campground, but there sure were a bunch of different ways to get there.

Odd little sand formation

Once at Baker Beach Campground, the GPS said I'd been wandering aimlessly in the forest and dunes for a mere 2.8 miles.  Clearly, more miles were required so I added several trail loops that visited Lilly Lake, Berry Creek, Baker Beach, and a massive sand dune that went on for miles; altogether it wound up being a 7.3 mile hike, all of it in soft sand.  My soft sand muscles were softer than the soft sand and this hike felt a lot longer and I was now ready to inflict the same amount of pain on my friends.

Nobody got lost and I like that

Last time I led a Friends of the Umpqua hike, only three friends showed up. Given that backstory, it was shocking to set out on the trail with 20 friends (and one dog) in tow, uttering a silent prayer to the hiking gods to help me arrive with 20 friends (and one dog) at the trailhead at the end of the hike. We cut down our chances of misplacing anybody by using the buddy system and stopping at all trail junctions.

Lake that is small and dry, just like me

In spite of those precautions, Edwin (who was at the front while I manned the rear) managed to lead us in a different direction from my scouting trip and we ended up at a small lake abutting the dunes. No worries, I had been on top of the dune looking down on the lake so we hiked uphill on a sandy path and resumed the proper route.

Reflection at Berry Creek

On the Lilly Lake route (where you really can't get a good look at the lake) we continued on to the banks of Berry Creek.  I walked down to the creek and instructed everyone to put on their wading shoes. Alternatively, I heard cursing, crying, and whining with the phrase "...it's a Richard Hike.." sprinkled liberally throughout. Great fun, and I let them know they'd been pranked and then I heard cursing, crying, and whining with the phrase "...it's a Richard Hike.." sprinkled liberally throughout.

Lunch time at Berry Creek

We ate lunch at Berry Creek, enjoying the sun while shivering in the cold ocean breeze. The canine portion of our group enjoyed swimming in the creek and retrieving large sticks. After lunch we closed the loop where no hikers took the offered option of heading back for a shorter hike.

Sandy cliff at Berry Creek

So, all 20 companions (plus one dog and one hike leader) went to the beach where several members took off shoes and went for a wade in the ocean while the rest of us shivered in the cold ocean breeze. One wave caught John but he seemed to enjoy being wet and cold, to judge from the grin on his face.

Let's hike through the marshes!

We made a short loop by hiking along the mouth of Berry Creek and then bushwhacking through the dunes and marshes to return to the trail. The marshy portion was short and feet got wet briefly.  So, while everybody continued on back to the campground, I backtracked to retrieve John and his wading crew as they had tarried when they put on their shoes after their ocean wade.

Hikers, walking past a hidden sinkhole

Not wanting to get my feet wet again, I took a loop around the edge of the marsh where it looked like it would be drier.  Looks can be so deceiving. I was shocked when my foot sunk into the grass, and sunk and sunk and sunk. I briefly wondered if I was going to wind up in China before I struck solid ground with the cold marsh water nearly up to my neck. Thrashing wildly, I grabbed on to some branches and hauled my now very wet carcass out of the diabolically disguised sinkhole I had stepped into.

Shadows in the late afternoon

It was a chilly walk through the forest after that and I took no more pictures as unfortunately, the camera had gone swimming with me. Concentrating on keeping a brisk pace to keep warm, the two miles back to Dune Lake seemed to go fairly quickly. I'm glad to report, no hikers (dog or human) were left behind, and we all had a great time, unintended swimming sessions and speeding tickets notwithstanding. On the way back, our car passed Lois who was plodding along exactly at the speed limit. It seems she has a newly found religion about obeying speed limits following her morning encounter with the police.  Oh, the irony!

Lichen

For more pictures of the two Baker Beach hikes, see the Flickr album.

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