North Umpqua Trail - Swiftwater Segment

Bit by bit, springtime is coming! Sometimes its hard to believe, like when copious amounts of rain fall on the deck outside. Drive up the North Umpqua Highway to about 3,500 feet of elevation while your car slips and slides in the ice and snow, and it'll still feel a lot like winter. But in between the ample precipitation leaking from the sky, there are signs here and there that winter is on the way out. Occasionally, sunlight breaks out and the temperatures are at least 10 degrees warmer than it had been most of February. Twittering birds commence constructing nests in the branches while underneath the trees along the North Umpqua Trail, the diminutive lavender blooms of snow queen carpet the florest floor. Yes, I know that winter will have a thing or two yet to say about the arrival of it's seasonal arch-nemesis, but it sure was nice to hike on the North Umpqua Trail without getting frozen or soaked for a change.

Woodland violet

So, the day was not great but on the other hand it wasn't raining...too much, anyway. That was good enough for Luna and I, we saddled up and drove over to the Susan Creek Day Use Area for some winter/spring hiking. As we started, the trail was blocked by a large fallen tree lying across the trail. After a quick scramble over the dearly demised tree, we had to stop again to take pictures of some of the many clumps of snow queen blooming next to the trail. Oh, and there was some woodland violet and twinflower too, which required more lying prone in wet vegetation, snapping a few dozen photos of every flower. Well, to be exact, Luna waited patiently for me while I did my photography thing and I could sense much rolling of eyes behind my back when I wasn't looking.

Tick-harvesting hiking companion

A half-mile and a half-hour later (thanks to the snow queen), we crossed the North Umpqua River on the always picturesque Tioga Bridge, the orange wood of the bridge contrasting nicely with the turquoise waters of the rain-swollen river. Luna too contrasted with most everything, since she is entirely black except for the one patch of white on her throat and chest.

Moss creeps over a bald spot

Once across the river, there were two options for hiking: right turn or left turn. The left-turn version would be on the Tioga Segment of the North Umpqua Trail, but a sign warning of a trail closure several miles ahead cinched the deal. "Not Closed": I like that in a trail, so right on the Swiftwater Segment it was. The Tioga Segment had been ravaged by wildfire last summer and the Forest Service is rightly concerned about landslides and falling trees, plus no doubt most of the wooden bridges were burned up in the fire, too. I'm not averse to getting my feet wet but some of those little ravines would be quite tedious to get across without a bridge spanning them. And as tempting as it is to hike past the closure signs and explore the wild post-fire scenery, there is a hefty fine involved if you happen to be caught and cited. In my post-retirement budget, there is not enough room for a "stupid-tax".

Lots of water in the forest

The Swiftwater Segment was fine though, as it angled gently uphill on an old gravel road bed for most of the first three miles. The vegetation was lush and water soaked, my legs would have been sopping wet had we had to hike on a real trail with encroaching vegetation. We had to endure several short rain showers and I had plenty of opportunity to take photographs of water drops dangling off of branches, leaves, and runny noses.

A small creek crosses the trail

With all the rain coming down in the last week, it stood to reason there'd be plenty of water running in all the seasonal unnamed creeks crossing the trail. And yup, there certainly was and I have hundreds of photographs to prove it. At this rate, we'd spend all day on the trail just to attain one mile of hiking distance!

Moss creeps over a rock

The forest bryophytes (that would be a fancy term for moss, dearies) were on full display here on the shady side of the river. Between the lush vegetation and the ample quantities of mossage (bryophytage?), green was the operative color on the North Umpqua Trail. Moss covers all that does not move, so Luna had no worries, but I had better put the camera away and hie myself smartly down the trail lest I too become just another indistinct green mossy lump in the forest.

So many creeks on the trail

As stated before, the trail was angling up and away from the river and the forest did a pretty good job of hiding the river from view. In several openings in the dense woods, we got rained on and we could see the bright turquoise color of the river water down below through the trees. Nonplussed by the rain, small birds flitted in the damp shrubbery like so many feathered ping-pong balls, attracting the attention of one easily distracted dog.

Snow queen

At about the three mile mark, we came across an area that had been logged right next to the trail. I have to think that the logging activity probably had some connection to last summer's wildfires, although the logging seemed to have occurred more recently than last summer. Civilization further intruded when the trail separated from the old roadbed and followed a not-so-attractive clear-cut beneath some power lines before ducking back into yet another lush forest.

Bob Creek

A short drop through the thick lichen-encrusted woods brought us to Bob Creek, it's footbridge still intact and untouched by fire. That was a logical turnaround point and we rested a bit and ate treats before turning back. On the way back the rain ceased and the sun broke out. There is a saying about Oregon "if you don't like the weather, just wait five minutes" There should also being some saying about experiencing summer, spring, fall, and winter all in one day, but that's just me whining.

Susan Creek

At any rate, in keeping with the adage cited in the previous paragraph, the rain returned by the time we reached the car at the end of a shortish 5.5 mile hike. More mileage was called for, so rain notwithstanding, we crossed the highway and resumed hiking on the Susan Creek Falls Trail, a short but heavily used path to the spectacular falls.

Susan Creek Falls on a rainy afternoon

The trail had been graded, graveled and fence-railed into submission and I get a little peeved when comparing this path to my normal ankle-twisting trail tread. But then it wouldn't really be hiking if all trails were like that, either, so I'll stop with the complaining. At any rate, Susan Creek Falls were predictably spectacular, particularly with the spring runoff increasing both the aural and water volume of the cascade. We didn't tarry long at the falls, for the rain was a little more insistent by now, it was just as well we turned back for the wonderful and heavenly warm air that can only be obtained from a car heater on a cold and wet, yet fine spring day.
.

The color of the river is amazing

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

Create Routes or Search for a route from millions at MapMyHike

North Umpqua Trail - Mott Segment 2/2018

This hike was all about low expectations. You see, the prior day had been spent hiking on a gloriously sunny day on the Oregon coast, and you just can't beat a sunny day at the coast. Unfortunately, the following day I arose to the sound of rain pitter-pattering on the deck outside. The blue sky of yesterday was gone, replaced by a dark brooding cloud cover that perfectly matched my mood in direct correlation to the weather conditions. However, there was a part of me that felt like I had to go hiking regardless, like it was a school assignment or something like that, as mandatory as a politely-worded chore "suggestion" from the wife. So off Luna and I go, with no expectations other than a very short and cursory hike on the North Umpqua Trail.

Life on a tree trunk

I really should have looked at the weather report. The car's temperature gauge said it was 32 degrees and obviously, all the rain I was driving through could quite easily turn to snow. By the time I reached the small town of Glide, the rain became slushy and by the time I hit Idlyld Park, it was definitely more snow than rain. My inner angel and devil were perched on either shoulder, telling me to do the opposite thing in opposite ears: The devil wanted me to turn back and drink some hot chocolate, while the angel wanted me to go hiking anyway, despite the dire conditions. 

Bridge crossing at John Creek

When I parked at the Wright Creek Trailhead, slush was coming down but it wasn't too bad. I compromised with my two imaginary nagging friends and said I'd hike just a mile or two, just to say that I did, and then reward myself with a steaming cup of hot chocolate. But no sooner than I started hiking, the snow started falling in earnest. My criteria for turning back became "when the snow starts to stick", regardless of the hiking mileage. 

Trail shot, as the snow fell

Luna was somewhat confused by the snow. Each time a heavy flake landed on her, she felt it was like somebody tapping her so she spent most of the snowy part of the hike looking over her shoulder for the mysterious spectral entity touching her so. The falling snow occluded the views of the North Umpqua River canyon and mountainsides, so the hike was all about forest, river, and continually moving to keep warm. At least the thick forest somewhat warded off the chill breeze blowing down the river.

Sleety view of the North Umpqua River

After a mile of hiking, the snow was beginning to stick but at the same time, the snow was reverting back to slushy rain. Somewhere around that point, I made the decision to continue as far as Fisher Creek before turning back. See, I was actually beginning to enjoy the hike despite, or maybe because of, the crappy weather. 

Harvesting water

The lush trailside growth of salal and ferns, fed by constant river humidity, were water traps and my pants legs were soon sopping wet as we brushed by. But spring is coming, and snow queen was profuse on the ground, waving small lavender flower buds in anticipation of that event. Lichen and moss were everywhere and it was interesting to observe the various bio-mechanisms employed to funnel raindrops in the eternal pursuit of sustaining life. The lichens tended to offer small cups to the sky while needle-like  moss leaves strategically directed life-giving water to the base of the plant organism. 

Mushrooms push through the lungwort

Cabbage-leafed lungwort lichen clung to life on standing tree trunks, while small mushrooms pushed their way through the lichen. British soldiers, another kind of lichen, entertained the camera with their bright red heads. The hike quickly devolved into photo shoot, what with so many things to take pictures of.

Green, blue, and green

With all the water falling from the sky in both solid and liquid form, it stood to reason that the creeks crossing the trail were rather boisterous with the extra runoff. So too was the North Umpqua, it was wide, fast, and deep, with the water colored an opaque turquoise in the deeper pools, and a dark black color that screamed "cold!" in the shallower parts. 

A web with which to catch wet flies

Last time I had hiked the Mott Segment of the North Umpqua Trail, we had been entertained by a fallen tree, suspended between two of its standing tree brethren (or sistren). The tree was still there and the top of the tree dipped into the river and bobbed in the current, keeping time with the rhythm of the river flow. With some regularity, the river slapped the tree and gurgled right at the point where the tree entered the water. The "glug" sound then carried up the tree and was amplified, like a giant tuning fork of sorts. "Boom...boom...boom..." that sound reverberated through the forest long before we arrived at the tree and I had one freaked out dog on my hands, "Who's doing that and where is he?"

The hike leader

By the time we reached Fisher Creek, the rain, snow, slush, or all of the preceding, had stopped in entirety and we actually witnessed brief interludes of sunlight on the way back. Luna had hiked most of this hike off-leash, which meant she had hiked double distance at a double speed, as that is her doggy nature. When we got home, she could hardly move, lying on the carpet with her body posture screaming "I've fallen and I can't get up!" Her discomfort was assuaged somewhat by a can of wet dog food, the doggy equivalent of a cup of hot chocolate. 

British soldiers

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

Create Routes or Search for a route from millions at MapMyHike

North Umpqua Trail (Swiftwater Park)

Dale wanted to go on a "photo hike", and I'm thinking "But aren't they all photo hikes?" However, Dale had spent the equivalent of the GDP of a small country on: a camera that can shoot HDR photos while simultaneously brewing a mean cup of coffee; a light meter with up to 850,000 lux sensitivity; 7 lens of various focal lengths and magnifications; a remote control clicker with 5.7 miles of range; a set of extension tubes; spectromatric telemacroscopes; 420-stop neutral denisity polarizing filters; 3 camera equipment carry bags; a helper robot; the always handy-to-have flux capacitor, a 10-foot high tripod with a hydraulic lift; and a stool for using the 10-foot high tripod with a hydraulic lift. Too bad he forgot batteries! Anyway, given all the gear he was carrying, I figured a photo hike would be a short hike where we took lots and lots of pictures.

Iris detail

Well, I had that only part right: yes, we did walk just a short 4 miles and I, at least,  took lots of pictures (what else is new?). But Dale only took like around 10 photos (Note: all of Dale's work is available as limited edition Giclée prints!), crafting each one painstakingly and lovingly like Picasso with a Pentax. Plus, it took him 15 minutes each time to assemble, and then another 15 minutes to disassemble the architectural structures (like the tripod) required for him to ply his art. But hey, taking pictures of everything on, above, next to, or under the North Umpqua Trail is not a bad way to spend a morn. 

Pacific ninebark

The weather was sunny but cool down at the bottom of the North Umpqua River's forested canyon. We started at Swiftwater Park and enjoyed a level walk through a lush forest above the river. Lots of pictures were taken by one of us. The photo fun began in earnest at Deadline Falls, where we scrambled down to the river to photograph the noisy cascade. While Dale was erecting his 10-foot tripod to shoot his one picture of the falls, I kept myself busy photographing the spring wildflowers next to the river.

Woodland phlox bloomed on the forest floor

Thimbleberry was the main photo subject but Pacific ninebark, red clover, and birds-foot trefoil also succumbed to my viewfinder while lavender ceanothus perfumed the air. But eventually, I had photographed every flower in the immediate vicinity. "Dale" I said "can we go now?" as I put down the volume of "War and Peace" I had started and finished while Dale was shooting the falls. "Hold on, I haven't taken a picture yet!" I was shocked to hear. What? Seems he was waiting for the perfect light and moment which had not occurred yet during this lunar and solar cycle. 

Ooh!

You know how your young children get restless on a long trip so you toss a toy or bauble over your shoulder into the back seat as you drive, so as to distract them? Well, in similar fashion, Dale tossed me a set of extension tubes and said "Try these on your camera!" Weapons of mass distraction work every time and I screwed on a tube and looked in the viewfinder. Ooh! The extension tube turned my ordinary lens into a powerful macro lens and I then spent the next two hours trying to capture the perfect photo of a snail's nose hair.

Beetle larvae destroy a willow leaf

Actually, some kind of beetle larvae had chewed up the willows and had made webby tent colonies on the ruined leaves. The extension tubes were way cool for taking pictures of the orange and black grubs and I suddenly found myself embracing the whole "photo hike" concept and wondering where I too, could purchase a 10-foot tripod with a helper robot.

Goose grass

Goose grass is a small bedstraw plant with a flower so tiny, it is barely visible to 60 year old eyes. Ah, but with the extension tubes, it looked as large as a day lily.  Whooh, this macro stuff was fun. Eventually, Dale decided the chi at Deadline Falls was sufficiently balanced to allow for his one photograph, so we resumed hiking, albeit with yours truly taking pictures of all things tiny. I was seeing the world with a whole new set of nearsighted eyes. 

Trail through the Cable Crossing Fire zone

The forest is very lush here along the North Umpqua, but only up to a point. In 2015, the Cable Crossing Fire laid waste to the forest here and we hiked through the graveyard. Dead trees everywhere but life was exploding on the ground. Fireweed, as is its wont, had taken over the open ground beneath the black snags. Spittlebugs had "built" their spit homes on the fireweed stalks and were holding spittlebug keggers somewhere in all the bubbles.

Guardian of the stick

Our turnaround point was little Fern Falls, cluttered with fire debris. A couple of hours later, after Dale had taken his one photograph of the falls, we turned back where I used the extension tubes to photograph candy flower until a crab spider warned me away. As we hiked back, the sun disappeared and dark clouds scudded over. The air had that portentous atmosphere and sure enough, the wind suddenly started howling through the branches overhead.

Let the storm begin!

That was not a good thing either, because we were hiking in a stand of sugar pines. Sugar pines are noted for having one of the larger pine cones around, each cone weighing about as much as all of Dale's camera gear. So when the wind blows, the cones will fall and there is nothing quite like hiking in a windstorm when it is raining sugar pine cones. You literally could hear the hiss as they plummeted earthward: Hsssssss....thwock! As this was going on, the hail started. Then the rain came down in sheets, with thunder and lightning completing a thorough pivot from a Photo Hike to a Richard Hike. Dale quickly stowed all his gear into his portable waterproof storage unit and we hiked a lot more quickly than we had been.

The weather goes from nice to nasty

Funny, with all the rain coming down, Dale took no more pictures, not willing to expose millions of dollars of electronics to the wet elements. Me, my compulsive photography was held in abeyance because I just wanted to get to the trailhead as quick as possible, so as to minimize the possibility of becoming a sugar pine target; which in turn would thereby increase the probability of my living a longer life. In short order, we arrived at a very soggy trailhead and we quickly piled into our respective cars and hightailed it home. Should I tell Dale I "forgot" to give him back his extension tubes? 

Extenstion tubes make the rain look pretty cool

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

Fern Falls

Create Routes or Search for a route from millions at MapMyHike

North Umpqua Trail - Swiftwater Segment

It rained for 40 days and and 40 nights and from the building of Noah's ark hereafter, a 40 day rain is said to be of "biblical proportions". However, here in the damp Pacific Northwest, it's just another storm and we just shake our heads and wryly note "Only 40 days?"  No ark building is necessary in the continual rain, but if you want to stay somewhat dry on yet another rainy day hike, then good rain gear is essential.

Rain on a cedar

I have tried various so-called waterproof jackets but have yet to find a breathable soft shell that effectively keeps the water out. I do have a hard shell that repels the rain but the problem with that is all my hiking perspiration is trapped by the impermeable fabric so it sort of rains underneath the jacket...plus it smells like an unventilated gym. Maybe two unventilated gyms, even. Maybe even three unventilated gyms full of sumo wrestlers doing aerobics on treadmills. With the heat turned up and the rafters full of farting pigeons, too.

Misty view to Bob Butte

I recently read an article about hiking long-distance trails on the cheap and Frogg Toggs were cited as the favorite rain gear for frugal hikers. A short Internet session later, a set of Frogg Toggs Ultra-Lite2s were purchased and on their way. The Frogg Toggs are amazingly inexpensive, a mere pittance at $25, especially when compared to other rain gear. When the package arrived several days later,  a rainy day was all that was needed for some gear-testing, like that would be a problem!

Somebody liked the water on the trail

Rainy day and rain gear in hand, Luna and I headed out to the Susan Creek Recreation Area. The rain was light enough I didn't feel the need to go all Gorton's Fisherman and put on the rain pants, too. However, Luna was on her own, although if I would have bought her a pet raincoat, you might refer to her as a Frogg Togg Dogg. And since she likes to play keepaway in the back yard with a huge tree branch, you might even call her a Frogg Togg Logg Hogg Dogg. Sorry, I'll quit now.

A tiny mushroom sprouts on a tree trunk

The Emerald Trail connects the Susan Creek picnic area to camera-friendly Tioga Bridge. However, the trail is not emerald at all, it's mostly black as in pavement and coarse gravel. No complaining though, for the civilized nature of the trail tread allows our alter-abled hiking friends to also enjoy Tioga Bridge.

Graceful arch on Tioga Bridge

Tioga Bridge was built in 2013 and you can still smell the fresh creosote on the stout span. The North Umpqua was running wide and fast, rushing noisily underneath the photogenic bridge. Normally the river water is a beautiful turquoise color but on this day the water was a milky chocolate brown tint as the river was running near flood stage. The day was cold, wet, gray, with low cloud cover rendering nearby Bob Butte barely visible in the mist overhead.

A cascade on a temporary creek

Once across Tioga Bridge, a thundering waterfall on a nameless creek made for an impressive start to the Swiftwater Segment of the North Umpqua Trail. About 100 yards later, a second waterfall on a nameless creek likewise impressed. All the rain was causing the streams to put on a show with winter runoff splashing where there normally would have been no running water at all, like on the North Umpqua Trail.  My feet stayed dry due to my happily waterproofed boots, while barefooted Luna was deliriously overjoyed to wet her feet in all the water streaming across the trail.

Boots got wet on this hike

The North Umpqua Trail is on an old logging road for much of the Swiftwater Segment, so we avoided the whole vegetation wetting pant legs thing. The grade was easy on the legs as the uphill slope was as kind and gentle as a grandmother. Life was good as we hiked while photo-stopping frequently due to all the seasonally hydrologic wonders occurring next to or on the trail. After about 3 miles, the road passed under some power lines and that was our cue to leave the road and start hiking on a real trail.

Mossy branches reach to the sky

The footpath dropped straight down the hill for a short bit, as it followed a clearing underneath the power lines. Not the most scenic part of the hike, to be sure. From there it was another steep drop down through a forest with a thundering creek that was mostly heard and not seen in the canyon below the trail.

Bridge over Bob Creek

I don't know who Bob was but he has a butte and a creek named after him. His creek was pretty full of Bob so to speak, as the rambunctious torrent was absolutely raging in an intimidating display of raw water power. Fortunately, no wade across Bob Creek was required as a nicely constructed footbridge made for both a safe crossing and yet another photo stop. Bob Creek literally was growing larger before my eyes as dozens of runoffs and tricklers poured off the canyon slope, each contributing to the mighty Bob's cause.

Bob Creek was much larger than normal

A brief uphill walk on a trail doing double duty as a creek bed brought us to the base of Bob Butte. There is a really nice view of the North Umpqua canyon from the butte but on this day, the butte was well hidden in the foggy cloud cover just above us. No point in walking up a steep trail just to see gray mist, so we sat down and I ate lunch while Luna mooched.

Orange cup fungus

On the return, the rain really poured just when we had to go up the steep open section underneath the power lines. I'm glad to report the Toggs kept me comfortably dry, just as promised. The breathability of the fabric means air flows both ways so on a cold day, one does need to wear warm clothing underneath. Once we returned back to the forest, the rain gave up, bowing down in acquiescent homage to the amazing water-repelling powers of the Frogg Toggs. With only one hike notched on our rainy day belt, durability remains an open question but so far, the Toggs definitely get more than a passing grade.

Slightly misted trail shot

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

Create Routes or Search for a route from millions at MapMyHike