Siskiyou Wilderness

I hiked to Polar Bear Gap last year and on that hike, I had taken the Black Butte Trail down into the East Fork Illinois River canyon. There were a couple of backpacking campsites down there and I made some comment on my blog about the "...thought of lugging a backpack down and up this rugged terrain nearly made me want to cry with empathy for the abject human misery that particular labor had to have entailed" and while I didn't say it, I probably thought something along the lines of "pity the fools" or something like that. 

Pity the fools!

Well, misery loves company so I sallied forth onto the Black Butte Trail accompanied by Dale, Lane, and Rick; all of us eagerly anticipating 4 lovely days of backpacking pain. Basically, the Black Butte Trail goes downhill, losing a mere 700 feet or so of elevation on its way down to the East Fork's headwaters which doesn't sound particularly daunting. However, we are talking about the Siskiyous, and elevation gain/loss data can be misleading. So naturally, our descent began with a mad charge up the flanks of Black Butte on a rocky chute of a trail.

Snow plant

Despite this being a downhill hike, there were plenty of steep uphill stretches and there were no level spots at all.  Up or down and nothing in between. Since we were starting high above the East Fork, we had great views of the mountains on the opposite side of the canyon. Periodically we'd cross small creeks which were nameless little forks of the East Fork. Forklets, if you will. When we crossed the actual East Fork, Dale posed with one foot on either bank of the Illinois River like Paul Bunyan straddling the mighty Mississippi River.

Dale Bunion

Speaking of Dale, he entertained us all a bit by tripping and rolling downhill off the trail. A small tree wedged its way inconveniently between the back of his head and pack frame and he was flailing away like an upside down darkling beetle trying to regain the upright position. Lane, in his best faux PBS-nature-documentary-announcer voice, narrated "Here we see the turtle attempt to right itself". Three out of four guys laughing means the whole situation was funny and Dale's trail name is now "Turtle".

Young's Valley, our home for 4 days

Fortunately, there were no other pratfalls on the way down and eventually the sketchy trail widened onto an abandoned roadbed. Thankfully, the grade eased up on the old road, demonstrating once more we care more about cars than hikers. A short push up and over a forested saddle took us out of the East Fork Illinois watershed and into the Clear Creek drainage. And just like that, the forest thinned out and we were treated to a jaw-dropping vista of a large meadow reposing in meadowy glory below some tall peaks. We had arrived at idyllic Young's Valley, our home for the next several days. Camp was made next to a huge pile of bear poop at the south end of the meadow but fortunately, no bears came to visit (that we know of) during our stay. My theory is that they were kept away by fear of the large over-sized airplane hangar that was Rick's tent, dubbed "The Chalet" by us ultralighters. I think it even had a disco-ball inside it.

Raspberry Lake

Lane leads the charge to Raspberry Lake

Day 2 dawned bright and beautiful and we headed up the Raspberry Lake Trail. It was easy walking at first, the route following an old mining road above Clear Creek. The only travail was the occasional tree step-over and the plentitude of rocks on the trail. This being the Siskiyous, we were never going to get away from rocky trails.

We all took pictures of each other
taking pictures of each other

Anyway, after a short and easy stretch, the road angled steeply uphill and then the fun began. As we climbed, we were treated to several awesome overlooks of the Clear Creek valley. Below, we could see a grassy hole in the forest and that would be the meadow we were camping at, but from this distance we couldn't quite make out the huge pile of bear poop next to our camp. Above and beyond the meadow rose craggy Young's Peak. On our side of the canyon loomed a rocky wall with a waterfall plummeting off of it and that would be our first introduction to El Capitan. Further to the south were a chain of prominent peaks: Rocky Knob, Twin Peaks, and Bear Mountain. We also had periodic views of the snow-flecked pyramid of Preston Peak.  Much photography ensued.

Rick hikes on the edge and likes it

Cyclone Gap is the site of former mining operations and the trail went narrow at the mine, climbing over slag and debris, some of which included weathered timbers from the mine. On a rocky slope, the trail went faint and sometimes invisible but rock cairns on the slope kept us going in the right direction, which was up. All uppy things turn to down eventually, and the rocky goat path made a precipitous drop down into the Raspberry Lake basin. A backpacking party was coming up the trail and none of the participants were smiling. Must be some of that abject human misery discussed in preceding paragraphs.

Raspberry Lake

Raspberry Lake sits in a rocky bowl on the slopes of Copper Butte and is nothing but scenic and picturesque. The lake was calm and ripples from jumping fish slowly expanded Zen-like across the surface. Such a peaceful place demands an extended lollygag and we obliged, snoozing here and there in the many sunny spots next to the lake.  Eventually, we all wound up on top of a huge boulder overlooking the lake where we did nothing for an hour or so.  It was great!

Heading back to camp

All the ups became downs and vise versa on the way out and it was no easier leaving the lake than it was coming in.  Well, I suppose it was a bit easier once we hit the mining road but we still had to watch for ankle-hungry rocks with each step.

Private Lake

Bear Cub and Polar Bear Mountain 

And then we were three. Lane had to work on Monday so he got to hike out by himself, departing camp to the accompaniment of snickers from the rest of us non-workers (for a few days, anyway). So Rick, Dale, and I head up the Twin Valleys Trail and it didn't even pretend to switchback as it charged straight uphill, the route about as subtle as an AC/DC concert. At least the trail was shady.

Miniature onion (Siskiyou version)

After a mile of that, we plopped in grateful appreciation at a mountain pass that provided great views of neighboring Bear Cub and Polar Bear Mountain. The pass was all serpentinitic rock and the rock gardens were putting on a show what with  quill-leaved lewisia, penstemon, stonecrop, Siskiyou lewisia, and phlox stuffed into cracks in the rock and blooming madly away.

Small pond on the ridge

From the pass, the trail sashayed to and fro atop a bare rocky ridge right below a series of craggy peaks known as The Lieutenants. This was my favorite part of the hike as not only was the trail level, but no trees grew on the ridge which meant we could see all the surrounding peaks and valleys of the Siskiyou Wilderness. Totally awesome! On top of the ridge was a small pond full of tadpoles and just beyond the pond, the trail headed uphill to a second pass. The pass was shady and we stopped to eat lunch there. Just beyond the pass, the trail dropped steeply down into a creek canyon and we were filled with dismay because what goes down would certainly have to come back up.

View toward the Red Buttes

Gluttons for punishment, Rick and I headed down the trail to see what we could see, and boy we could see some stuff. On the horizon were the Red Buttes and below a cliffy overlook, a large meadow was stuffed into a rocky bowl. Across the creek canyon was a tall ridge which this trail would eventually climb up and over for the privilege of dropping down into Twin Valleys. Polar Bear Mountain was prominent, looming over us against a deep blue sky. The trail leaving Twin Valleys would then have to climb up and around the mountain for the privilege of dropping down to Young's Valley. That was a whole lot of serious up and down for one day so we contented ourselves with a visit to a small cirque lake at the canyon's head. The amazing thing about this rugged and challenging trail is that it is part of both the long distance Bigfoot Trail and Coast to Crest Trail systems. All that up and down with a backpack on...ugh!

Private Lake, or else a private lake

The map shows this small lake as an unnamed lake but William Sullivan's "100 Hikes in Southern Oregon" refers to it as Private Lake and so shall I because a lake this special deserves some recognition. Rick and I beat our way through the brush to access the shore and a throng of inquisitive trout checked us out, no doubt curious about the rarely seen visitors to the small body of water. The lake is not very deep and lily pads ringed the shallows along the shoreline.

Day ends on El Capitan

So back we go up the steep trail but that was nothing new on this trip, and we got to enjoy the splendid ridge-top views all over again. On the descent down to Clear Creek and Young's Valley, we better appreciated the steepness of the trail and it suddenly made sense why we had been huffing and puffing so much on the morning climb.

Young's Valley to Black Butte Trailhead

On our way to abject human misery

Day 4 was getaway day and it started pleasantly enough in the early morning. The trail was on the wide mining roadbed and angled gently uphill through the lush and shady forest. And then the easy hiking on a gentle grade ended as the trail began to dole out some of that abject human misery I had mentioned earlier.

Typical Siskiyou Wilderness trail

The hike out was up and down, never level, but more up than down as we climbed out of the East Fork Illinois River canyon. The rocky chute of a trail required we put our heads down and concentrate on where we placed our feet, lest we turn an ankle. Although the out hike was only 6 miles and would gain only about 700 feet of elevation, it sure felt like it was more than both of those stats due to the ruggedness of the trail and surrounding terrain.

Rick crosses the East Fork Illinois River

Actually, it was inadvertently longer than 6 miles because after we crossed an East Fork fork, the old roadbed angled steeply uphill on a mad charge seemingly to the Polar Bear Mountain summit.  It didn't feel right, so Dale and I whipped out our GPS's and quickly deduced we had missed the faint trail at the creek crossing. At least we got some more miles and elevation gain in, sarcasm intended.

Young's Peak, across the East Fork canyon

As we worked our way up the East Fork canyon, the forest thinned out to a sparse concentration of Ponderosa pines and Brewer's weeping spruce, a Siskiyou tree oddity. Scrubby Sadler oaks clawed at our legs as we walked by and several specimens of bright red snow plants were spotted below the trees. This was work and we were soon bathed in a mixed-up goo of sunscreen, sweat, trail dust, and blood (I had taken a pretty good scratch to the back of my hand, thanks to a dead tree). 

Pretty happy for abject human misery!

Despite the travails and trudgery involved in climbing out of the canyon, the views of Young's Peak and Sanger Peak on the other side of the valley were stunning. Further down the canyon, the East Fork opened up to the farmlands and towns of the Illinois Valley with the peaks of the Kalmiopsis Wilderness making for a jagged skyline just beyond. As I had surmised a year ago, there was plenty of "abject human misery" and while I did indeed pity the fools (us),  I must say it was a fantastic 4 days of hiking!

For more pictures of this backpack trip, please visit the Flickr albums:

Day 1
Day 2
Day 3
Day 4

Create Routes or Search for a route from millions at MapMyHike

Create Routes or Search for a route from millions at MapMyHike

Create Routes or Search for a route from millions at MapMyHike

Create Routes or Search for a route from millions at MapMyHike

South Warner backpack

Hiking is sort of like buying a new car. You get in and  the seats are waxy and fresh, unsullied as of yet by human butts. The odometer reads close to zero and the air has that wonderful new-car smell. You turn the key and the engine hums quietly, perfectly in tune. Flash forward a year and there's a small dent in the driver's side door, the grandkids have colored the back seat with what you hope is some kind of delible ink, the seats have been butt-imprinted, and there is a slight rattle in the motor that probably has something to do with the "check engine" light.

Hiking on the Owl Creek Trail

Hiking is sort of the same way. I remember when Ray and I "discovered" Rocky Ridge in the Rogue-Umpqua Divide, he was so overjoyed he literally danced a jig. Embarrassing, to be sure, but we've never recaptured that first-time feeling on subsequent visits to Rocky Ridge. Because we've hiked every trail in southern Oregon, or so it seems, we have to travel farther afield to get that high from discovery.  Like addicts in need of a fix , we journeyed to the very northeastern corner of that foreign country south of us (I am referring to California) in order to satisfy our craving for that new-trail feeling. We had never been to the South Warner Wilderness before and that was the best reason of all for choosing this destination for a 5 day backpack trip.

Day 1

That would explain the dizziness

We began the hike at Pepperdine Campground which was at 7,000 feet of elevation. Us lowlanders were really feeling the difference between 7,000 and our customary 750 feet of elevation and I knew I was in trouble when I got winded just tying my shoes. But, repeating the mantra of "we have all day to get there" we set off on the steep Summit Trail through the forest.

View to Middle Alkali Lake in Surprise Valley

The forest didn't last long and the trail spit us out onto a treeless slope with ankle high vegetation consisting of mostly sagebrush and buckwheat. With the lack of trees came views and we could see Mount Shasta to the west and Surprise Valley to the east. Surprise Valley is where the Great Basin starts and the valley contained three very large lakes aptly named Upper, Middle, and Lower Alkali Lakes. Well, to be exact, the lakes existed in name only as we could see the brown dusty bowls where water had once been, the lakes were dry during our visit.

Camp Tired

Up, up, up was the the theme of the day as we gained over 2,000 feet in elevation. The lack of trees left us exposed to the hot sun; I didn't pack a thermometer but it had to be in the mid-90's. After the tiring and tedious slog up, we arrived at beautiful Patterson Lake where we set up camp.

Warren Peak

Patterson Lake sits in a bowl below Warren Peak, the peak being a tall escarpment typical of this area. The South Warner Mountains were formed by a fault-block uplift and the terrain (particularly on the east side) consists of terraced escarpments arranged like a stair-stepper for giants. We would spend a lot of time hiking up and down and on top of these terraces.

Sunset

In the late afternoon, thunderheads formed over Surprise Valley as a brisk breeze ruffled our tent flaps. Our campsite was perched atop a wooded cliff and we enjoyed a great view of the sunset turning the clouds orange.

Day 2

Taking it easy

This was our "acclimation day", the plan being to take it easy while our blood cells learned how to more efficiently transport oxygen to our lungs. So we took it easy by doing an off-trail quest for the summit of Warren Peak.  

Patterson Lake, from Warren Peak

After attaining a pass with a nice overlook of Patterson Lake, we left the trail and headed up a steep slope consisting of slippery scree. Dense growths of stunted whitebark pines made things difficult at times as we worked our way uphill. We didn't reach the true summit of Warren Peak but we reached a perch below a rock tower that had a dizzying view of the lake below.  

This little lake called us

Ray continued on a little bit further in search of a way to access the true summit without having to resort to technical climbing. While he was doing that I was snapping pictures of the scenery and noticed a small glacial lake directly below. Well that was an idea put into my head that would not quit and when Ray returned from his unsuccessful quest, we returned to Patterson Lake determined to visit the little pond.

Tough climb

We lazed at camp for most of the day but in the afternoon, we worked our way off-trail to the bottom of a wall of loose boulders and rock directly below Warren Peak. Our little lake was hidden from view, but the basic idea was to go uphill until we hit the lake.  Easier said than done as rocks shifted constantly underfoot. At the top of the rock pile were snow drifts that were a little dangerous as on occasion our feet plunged through the thin snow without warning.

Sunset over Squaw Mountain

The lake was there and we got close enough to notice the iceberg floating in it like a sugar cube in a glacial teacup. On our return to camp, clouds formed overhead and the wind began to blow, the evening wind was becoming a trend. We enjoyed a superb sunset before calling it a day.

Day 3

Summit Trail view

Once again we found ourselves at the pass overlooking Patterson Lake but this time we continued south on the Summit Trail instead of engaging in quests for summits. The Summit Trail stays on top of the broad and treeless Warner crest and offers some incredible scenery as as reward for hiking in the heat.

Yet another picture of Surprise Valley

To the east, we enjoyed expansive views to the Alkali Lakes in Surprise Valley, the mountains on the east side of the valley being on the Nevada side of the California-Nevada border. To the north, we could make out in the haze the blocky silhouette of Oregon's Hart Mountain. To the west was Mount Shasta and if we squinted, we could pick out Lassen Peak in the hazy distance. Nearer and to the south was Eagle Peak, the high point of the South Warner Mountains.

Cow's clover

I'd be remiss if I did not talk about all the wildflowers growing in the ankle-high vegetation. We saw several species of wild onion, Cusick's monkeyflower, phacelia, kittentails, lupine, blue flax, and dense mats of buckwheat. Much photography ensued as we continued along the ridge crest.

Peak 9053

Shortly after peering down into the rugged Owl Creek terrain below, we reached Peak 9053 which was promptly designated to be our lunch spot. So we climbed the small peak, still covered with snow drifts, and enjoyed a superb view down into the Pine Creek Basin where we could see a number of small lakes hiding in the basin's woods. 

Time to get off of Peak 9053

Clouds were coming in as we ate and we were aware there was a slight chance of thunder per the weather reports we had perused prior to our coming here. Being on top of a peak when there is a chance of lightning is not a smart thing to do, so we kept our lunch short before heading back.  

Rain was in our future

It warmed up considerably as we hiked back and it was a tedious slog hiking uphill from the Warner crest to the Patterson Lake pass. Predictably, clouds formed as the wind blew. The only difference was that the clouds covered up the sunset and it rained for most of the night.

Day 4

Trail junction

The next day dawned cloudless and clear and we packed up our gear and grabbed the Cottonwood Trail down to the Owl Creek Trail. The Owl Creek Trail paralells the Summit Trail but is located about 1,000 feet below the Summit Trail; The Cottonwood Trail is a connector trail linking the two trails.  

Meadow, typical of this area

The Cottonwood Trail dropped rapidly away from Patterson Lake as it switchbacked to and fro down an escarpment. Basically following Patterson Creek, the trail criss-crossed the creek several times and we enjoyed a series of lush hellebore meadows and small waterfalls.

How waterfalls start

At a marshy meadow with a huge waterfall, the trail turned to the north and leveled out as it peeled away from the creek, taking us through a forest that had been, and was still being, ravaged by pine beetles. Lots of dead trees waiting for a lightning strike to set things alight.

Cottonwood Creek headwaters

Rounding Peak 8298, we left trees behind and dropped into the sagebrushed canyon of Cottonwood Creek. The Warner crest loomed above and an impressive waterfall delivered Cottonwood Creek to the canyon floor.  As we approached the creek, the vegetation morphed from sagebrush to lush riverine growth.

Monument plant

Blooming in the sagebrush were the unique monument plants. The leaves of these  plants are arranged in a rosette resembling an agave or a yucaa but they are not succulents. They flower in tall towers of odd colored green/cream flowers. What makes these plants interesting is that they live from 20 to 80 years, flower once, and die. Because of the dire consequences of their monocarpic lifestyle, monument plants do not engage in premarital, extramarital, or plain old fashioned marital sex.  Family values aside, these plants were making their one and only procreative stand on the hillsides of Peak 8298.

Patterson Creek waterfall

We set up camp next to the creek and then did a short day hike south on the Owl Creek Trail.  Because the trail parallels the Warner Crest, the Owl Creek Trail spends its miles climbing in and out of one creek drainage to the next. The up-and-down experience on our day hike to Patterson Creek is typical of the Owl Creek Trail. It was a steep climb up to a level meadow atop an escarpment before dropping steeply down to Patterson Creek where were treated to lush meadows and a magnificent waterfall.

My view before the "fun" started

In the late afternoon, the clouds came in as usual and the wind began to blow, and blow, and blow.  Then the rain started and lightning flashed and thunder boomed.  I felt so secure with only the nylon tent fabric between myself and 30 kiloamperes of electrical current.  Yes, I am being sarcastic. The wind was so strong that it uprooted my tent with me in it so I got to enjoy the experience of staking down, clad in only my Power Rangers underwear, an unruly tent in wind and rain while lightning flashed and thunder boomed.

Day 5

Sunrise

After the previous night's turbulence, it stands to reason Day 5 would dawn crisp and clear. Since neither one of us got a good night's sleep, we had no problem starting early, we hit the trail pretty near 7 AM. Crossing Cottownwood Creek, the Owl Creek also started early, heading steeply uphill as it climbed up Squaw Peak.

Mid-morning view

At least the faint trail switchbacked up Squaw Mountain as it gained altitude and the vegetation transitioned from the lush creekside growth to high desert sagebrush. Spotted in the low growth were desert-type flowers such as mariposa lilies and bitterroots. The views opened up as we gained elevation and we enjoyed a nice view down to Cottonwood Creek below.

Flowers gone wild

After a fairly rigorous climb, the trail rounded Squaw Mountain and rejoined with the Summit Trail.  There was much rejoicing because it would be all downhill from here on in.  The trail was flanked by rampant wildflowers blooming away in a floral rainbow.  It seems that the rains had inspired the lupines, buckwheat, wild onions, flaxes, and lilies to get busy blooming; much photography ensued.

I love my civilization

After a joyous reunion with my car, we stopped at the Pepperdine horse camp and field showered at a spigot.  Because there were campers nearby, I left all the important articles of clothing on; I didn't want to sully the new-trail smell with a gratuitous butt-imprint, figuratively speaking.

Odd-colored paintbrush

For more pictures of this magnificent hike,  please visit the Flickr albums:

Day 1
Day 2
Day 3
Day 4
Day 5

Bitterroot