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.

Travel Day

Sad but true, it was time to say good-bye to Hart Mountain Antelope Refuge. Our visit was just temporary, I think only the antelope get to stay there on a year round basis. Merle, John, and I piled into the car and headed towards the Summer Lake area in south-central Oregon.

Don't drink the water at Abert Lake

After a breakfast in Lakeport of real food that was not reconstituted over my Jet-Boiler, we headed north and stopped at Abert Lake. In this area of Oregon, seismic processes have uplifted huge blocks of land; Hart Mountain is a prime example of one of these upliftings. Eons ago, huge Lake Chewaucan covered this area but over time the waters receded. Because the lake basin had and has no outlet, minerals and salts  have accumulated, leaving behind a series of alkali lakes. Abert Lake is one of these.

Abert Lake panorama

Abert Lake is flanked by a tall 1,500 foot high escarpment, typical of this area.  The waters are alkali so the lake is undeveloped and the remoteness assures little visitors to the toxic lake. Life does thrive in the waters, however, in the form of brine shrimp which have adopted to the strange brew in Abert Lake. Because of the shrimp, the lake is a haven for birds who feed on the shrimp while drinking water from the freshwater tributary creeks. You can eat the shrimp but don't drink the water.

A sign we are not in Roseburg any more

Apparently bighorn sheep hang out on the escarpment face but even though we stared hard at the cliff, we did not see any. There was a highway sign warning of bighorn sheep crossing, so much for being "ram tough".

Summer Lake

We continued on to Abert Lake's relative, Summer Lake.  Summer Lake also has its origins in Lake Chewaucan's demise, making lakes Abert and Summer kissing cousins of sorts. Summer Lake, because of the prevailing winds, has accumulated a large tract of sand dunes on east side.  

Summer Lake panorama

After snapping some pictures of Summer Lake, we continued on up the west side escarpment known as Winter Ridge. Winter Ridge was named by John Fremont as it was snowy when he explored the area. Working his way down the escarpment (without the benefit of a gravel road), his party arrived at the alkali lake.  "Ooh, first it's cold, then it's hot" he said. Actually that sounds like something I would say, but the end result is that the lake was named Summer Lake.

Our home for the next three nights

Rock Creek Campground, on top of Winter Ridge's broad plateau, would be our home for the next three nights. The road into the campground was extremely rough and I uttered a "Forgive me Dollie, for I am about to sin" each time I drove her car on the rocky track.  

Our nightly ritual

The forest here has been decimated by beetles and the dead trees had been cut down, making for an abundant supply of readily available firewood. Since the nightly temperatures dipped into the 20's during our stay, we enjoyed some rather robust campfires.

Pretty but way cold

So, that's it for this brief travelogue, you can visit the Flickr album for more pictures of our relocation from Hart Mountain to Winter Ridge.