Olallie Mountain

Olallie Mountain had been on my list for quite some time and I finally made it. Unfortunately, though, several weeks after this hike, the Rebel Fire set up camp below Olallie Mountain so I'm not likely to return there in the near future. At the time of this writing, I'm not sure whether there will be any shady forest left on the Olallie Trail after the fire, either. It would really be a shame if the fire overran the Olallie Trail, because the lush vegetation and deep shade were some of the main attractions on this green hike. But at least I made it before fire season began in earnest in Oregon.

Beargrass was common in the meadows

Accompanied by trusty canine friend Luna, I set out upon the Olallie Trail and entered the Three Sisters Wilderness almost immediately upon leaving the trailhead. The Olallie Trail pokes into a corner of the wilderness on the western border, so the Three Sisters were fairly far away despite our hiking in the namesake wilderness. As a result, the Three Sisters would be pretty much a non-factor on the lower (and forested) section of this hike.

Salmonberry, not quite ready for eating

The tree cover was as thick and lush as a young man's mane, and the shade dark as a teenager's mood, but a whole lot more pleasant to be around. Spring was definitely going on, and I spent a lot of time low to the ground, sometimes lying on it (while a dog licked my ear) taking pictures of bunchberry, wild ginger, coneflower, penstemon, Columbia windflower, and goat's beard. And speaking of goat's beard, I probably should shave soon.

"To sit in the shade on a fine day and look upon
verdure is the most perfect replacement" - Jane Austen

The trail angled steadily uphill through the forest before crossing a small creek in just under a mile. Intrepid bushwhackers can follow this stream to its source at Wolverine Lake. However, I was expecting a clearer route; the hillside was covered with thick vegetation and fallen trees and while Luna was not averse to a good bushwhack, I wasn't in the mood, so we kept hiking on the Olallie Trail.

Humid meadow on Olallie Mountain

And now a word about the weather. On the drive up, there was a chill in the morning air and geese were flying south in their traditional "V" formation. In sunny exposed areas along the roadway, vine maples were showing their first autumn blush. Winter is coming. But not so fast, Richard, by mid-afternoon, the oppressive heat had taken care of all that winter chill. While the forest was shady, it was fairly warm despite the shade. Meadows were worse, where the sun baked both dog and hiker noggins. The stultifying heat had us both panting to keep cool, while the humidity had us all sopping wet in short order. Note to self: don't wear a black shirt when it's hot and humid like that.

Looking down the French Pete Creek valley

From the junction with the Olallie Trail and the Olallie Mountain Trail, it was all meadow and it was all uphill, too. I bonked, and it was a slow trudge for the remaining mile or so to the Olallie Mountain summit. Gone were all the shade loving flowers but on the plus side, I got to take pictures of sun-loving beargrass, Washington lily, lupine, and Indian paintbrush.

The Three Sisters, from Olallie Mountain

One last steep push delivered us to the Olallie summit where an old lookout and prodigious views were our reward for all the hard work. And best of all, the rustic and dilapidated lookout provided shade on one side, so we plopped down and enjoyed the expansive panorama before us. The Three Sisters were directly to the east and easily dominated the view. North of the volcanic sisterhood was Mount Washington, Three-Fingered Jack, and snowy Mount Jefferson. In the haze to the south, Mount Thielsen was barely visible. On the west side of Olallie Mountain, the valleys and canyons of Rebel Creek and French Pete Creek dropped off into the South Fork McKenzie River, all winding up in the prominent McKenzie River valley. In the distance, were the faint blue ridges of the Coast Range. Pretty awesome view,  if I do say so myself.

South Sister, on the way down

After a lengthy lunch, view-soak, and photo-shoot combo, we reluctantly left the summit and headed back down the trail. On the way down, we ran into another hiker who had one of Luna's kind with him, much to the enjoyment of both our dogs. He had just done a PCT section hike and was looking to hike the trail around the mountain. Unfortunately he had to give that idea up, stating the Olallie Trail, just past the junction, was pretty much lost to the vegetation. Of course, the following week, the Willamette National Forest posted an announcement that they had finished brushing out the Olallie Trail. And of course, a week later, the Rebel Fire set up camp for the remainder of the summer. I guess my timing was both good and bad for this hike, but at least my very lengthy list became one hike smaller.

The seldom seen fringed pinesap

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

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Lowder Mountain

So Richard, where did you go hiking?

I said "Lowder! And why are you yelling at me?" Yeah, yeah, I know...weak pun but that's my tortured segue into a discussion about hiking on Lowder Mountain and I'm sticking to it.

Prince's pine

The night before, I had enjoyed some good music at Sam Bond's Garage, which is rapidly becoming a second home away from home now that I'm retired. So while the concert was pretty cool (even though it was Lowd), it made for a very late night by the time I drove back to Roseburg. And since late nights are not conducive to early morning risings, especially in my retirement years, it stood to reason that any hiking done the day after would have to be late in starting, and moderate in length and ambition. Ergo, I began my hike on Lowder Mountain at the shameful hour of 2:00PM, and why are you yelling at me?

Beautifully shaded trail

After just 5 yards of hiking, it was apparent that the main attraction (for the time being) would be the lush forest. Green vegetation and dark shade was the theme and the forest floor was carpeted with green leaves and delicate accents of foamflower sprays. Fragrant heart-shaped leaves of wild ginger hid the ugly brown flowers underneath, but I knew how to find them. Large clumps of pink woodland phlox and prince's pine were abloom on the forest floor and a profound hush permeated through the trees. Yes, I said hush, there was nary a mosquito whine to be heard and I almost missed the little buggers.

Vine maple provides green-colored ambiance

The trail climbed up through the forest in a series of switchbacks but the grade was fairly gentle. The map said I was walking above Quaking Aspen Swamp which I looked forward to exploring. However, the thick forest prevented access and vision thereof, no swamp or quaking aspen for me. But a dense canopy of vine-maple leaves colored the air green and kept the temperature mild; life was good on the trail despite the lack of quaking, aspens, or swamps. Periodically, the trail would enter open meadows clinging to the slopes of Lowder Mountain, where columbine, tiger lily, and coneflower bloomed the day away under a cobalt blue sky. 

Meadow on Lowder Mountain's slopes

As the trail gained elevation, the trend was toward less forest and more meadows. And with the meadows came views of the deep valleys of the South Fork McKenzie River, one of which contained Cougar Reservoir hiding below. One of the mountains on the other side of Cougar Reservoir is called Deathball Mountain and I would love to know the story behind that name! With a moniker like that, I should climb it and just make up the story of how it got its name. It would save me some tedious factual research!

Zen moment

In a grassy meadow, a worn down trail sign marked the intersection with the trail leading to Yankee Mountain and then down to Cougar Reservoir in a knee-taxing descent. I looked on the map and the trail either loses or gains elevation, depending which way you are hiking it. Either way, the elevation change is 3,300 feet in 1.9 miles: whew! With stats like that, that particular trail just got on my list for future hikes!

Just follow the cairns

Anyway, after the intersection, the Lowder Mountain Trail started to climb in earnest, leaving the meadows behind and entering anew a dark and shady forest. Again, switchbacks kept the grade manageable for the most part. Suddenly, the trail spit me out onto an unexpected pumice barren and my eyes squinted myopically in the bright sunlight. The trail became somewhat faint but there were a series of rock cairns to keep me on track.

The Three Sisters

Horsepasture Mountain across the East Fork
South Fork McKenzie River canyon

Karl and Ruth Lakes

Lowder Mountain doesn't seem like much of a mountain when you are hiking on it as the summit is as large and flat as an Arizona mesa. The trail really became hard to follow in the vegetation as it went around a rather large and sparse meadow ringed by trees. The meadow (and Lowder Mountain, too) abruptly ended at a very tall cliff and the view from that rocky perch is why we hike. The snowcapped peaks of Middle Sister and North Sister hugged each other in permanent sisterhood while South Sister stood by her aloof self . Beyond green and forested Horsepasture Mountain rose Mount Jefferson and a cloud bank on the distant Columbia River hid Mount Hood from view. In between were lesser peaks such as Three-Fingered Jack, Mount Washington, Belknap Crater and Broken Top. To the south, the tip of Diamond Peak was visible. And directly below, Karl and Ruth Lakes lay in a forested basin. A view for the ages, once again!

Thimbleberry was everywhere

As I left, another hiker emerged from a nearby viewpoint and I greeted him with a "I thought I had the mountain to myself!" He smiled and replied "Well, I was here first". He was Brian, from Eugene, and we happily talked trails on the way back from the mountain, making the miles go by quickly. When we reached the trailhead I asked him "What was the name of this mountain, again?"

Golden yarrow

"Lowder", he helpfully replied.

"What was the name of this mountain, again?"

He seemed to be such a nice guy too, but he did leave in a hurry for some reason. He didn't even say good-bye but that's OK, his actions spoke Lowder than words. 

Cow parsnip catches some afternoon light

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

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Hiyu Ridge

So, what's up with these mountains named Grasshopper? Several weeks ago, thunder deterred me from hiking to the top of the Rogue-Umpqua Divide Wilderness's Grasshopper Mountain. This last weekend, just about everything else kept me from reaching a different Grasshopper Mountain in the South Fork McKenzie River watershed. Different Grasshopper, same result. Nemesis, I have seen you and thy name is Grasshopper.

Steer's head

The basic plan was to hike along Hiyu Ridge to Grasshopper Mountain and then continue on to shorter Grasshopper Point. Because we've had so little snowfall this winter, most of the snow pack has melted so the 5,600 feet of Grasshopper elevation seemed doable. However, the Great Hopper in the Sky had other plans for me beginning with the drive up Forest Road 1927. There were plenty of rocks on the road to challenge my poor little KIA and more than once, I had to stop the car and roll rocks and small boulders off the road, . Of course, mere pebbles challenge my pitiful toy car but that's besides the point.

See the trail?  Me, neither!

After lacing my boots up at the trailhead, I set off in a wooded forest as the trail wasted no time heading uphill. The rhododendron understory was lush and bushes grew over the faint Grasshopper Mountain Trail.  The trail has not seen the love lately as it was overgrown, hard to see at times, and the trail tread was tediously uneven and rocky. Fallen trees required me to shed my pack and crawl under them at several spots. Normally I hike about a mile every 25 minutes or so but under these conditions, progress was marked at a painstaking mile per hour.

Columbia windflower

Having duly made my obligatory whine, let it be said the forest was beautiful. Lush green growth sprouted in this Pacific Northwest jungle with prolific trillium flowering everywhere. Coming in second place were oxymoronically colored yellow violets blooming in dense clumps in the trailside moss and shade. Other flowering contenders were calypso orchid, Columbia windflower, and wild ginger. As the trail gained elevation, the small lavender flowers of snow queen made an appearance, indicating the snows had just, and only just, recently melted.

Hard won view to the Sisters

Eventually, the trail reached the crest of Hiyu Ridge and gooseberry vines, replete with thorns, crossed the trail and made sure to rake shins on the pass-by. At a rocky saddle atop the ridge, great views were had to two out of the Three Sisters. Well, to be technically accurate, two thirds of two Sisters were visible as the tops were well hidden in the cloud cover over the McKenzie River valley. Doing the math as only a math major can, that meant 4/9 of the Three Sisters were visible. Trying to make up for the missing 5/9 of the Sisters was Broken Top, which was 9/9 visible unless you allow for the missing top, taking it back to 4/9 like its neighboring Sisters.

One tough fungus

After leaving the rock gardens of the saddle, the real fun started. Across a deep valley, the mountains on the other side were covered with snow and those mountains were lower in elevation than Hiyu Ridge. They were facing east while my trail was on the snow-free west-facing side of the divide. So, when the trail hit the saddle and crossed over to the east facing side of the ridge, snow became an issue despite a rapid drop in elevation.

Hard to hike, here

Everything came to a head here: more storm debris, more fallen trees, more brush to whack through, and snow drifts to wade over. None of these things were insurmountable in and of themselves, but together they made the hiking tedious and the progress slow. The end came when I plunged through a snow drift and could feel my leg snaking its way through a keyhole in the maze of logs underneath. Trail conditions had moved from tedious to dangerous and that was my cue to turn around.

Interesting beetle

Just so I wouldn't feel too smug on the way down, the wind picked up, the temperature dropped, and it started to rain. Of course, upon arrival at the trailhead and car, the sun came out and I could hear a rumble of thunder, or more likely it was the Great Grasshopper laughing at me.

Bracket fungus

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

Red currant