Rogue River Trail (backpack)

So there we were on the last day of our Rogue River Trail backpack trip, eating lunch in the shade and sitting next to the trail. A fellow backpacker came up from the opposite direction and as is customary, we greeted each other, he by giving us a friendly nod and a curt acknowledgment of "Gentlemen". Three out of the four people in our party thought it no big deal while one was singularly nonplussed. The one irritated member of our quartet was not gentleman nor man and Missy was fuming at being so mistaken for a member of the male species. "Couldn't he see that I'm not a man?" she wailed, our laughter no tonic for her discomfiture. We decided Missy's trail name could be Sir or Mister, but looking at her long braids draping over the front of each shoulder, I'm of the opinion that our erstwhile dude could have no greater honor than to accept with pride, her given trail name of  "Willie Nelson".

Day 1

Golden iris put on a show for
the entire time of our visit

The first day of our forty mile journey was overcast but we (Rogue River Trail newcomers Missy, Mike, and Terry) were off and hiking anyway, except for yours truly, who had to backtrack to the car to retrieve a rain hat, which would be sorely needed on this trip. But at least I get the Golden Boot Award for hiking farther than everybody else. 

Whiskey Creek, as we arrived

All participants were familiar with the first three miles to Whiskey Creek, but once we passed that first major stream, it was all new trail for my Rogue River Trail newbs. However, by the time we reached Whiskey Creek, we had all become accustomed to the basic pattern of the trail, consisting of a climb to a cliff overlooking the river in its canyon and then a descent down to a tributary creek, followed by another climb away from the creek to a cliff overlooking the river. Up and down, in and out, and repeat for forty miles. Also repeated for forty miles were the soft caresses of poison oak leaves on our arms and legs as that pernicious shrub was constantly encroaching the trail.

These flower smelled lovely, Blogger
needs to add a scratch n' sniff option

We passed creeks Whiskey, Alder, Russian, Bronco, and Bunker over the first nine miles of trail and so far so good as far as my aged legs were concerned. However, the next three'ish miles had some pretty steep grades and by the time we reached Horseshoe Bend I was thoroughly pooped, but on the plus side, we had knocked off nearly twelve miles which wasn't bad for us old hikers.

Day 2

A cloudy dawn yet Terry said
the storm was dissipating

Day 2 will live in infamy in the memories of all participants. Although, there were just some clouds in the sky when we struck camp, the day would soon be as wet as the interior of a water balloon, Terry's cheery and overly optimistic prognostication of "it's dissipating" notwithstanding.

Missy has a bonding moment with the wet earth

After an hour or so of hiking on a trail covered with numerous piles of bear poop, the first raindrops began to fall. We hiked another hour or so before we all began to feel the need to put on raingear. Missy should have put on mud gear too, for she took a spill crossing a creek and suffered an ignominious sit-down upon the wet earth. 

OK, it's raingear o'clock

One highlight of the second day was a side trip to Zane Gray's cabin, a rustic ramshackle cabin in the middle of a grassy meadow where the famed author stayed when he fished the Rogue. Shortly after leaving the cabin and resuming our hike on the Rogue River Trail, we ran into a party of about eight day hikers. It was our friends, the Friends of the Umpqua Hiking Club, day hiking to the cabin and they looked wet. They probably thought we looked wet, too.

The rain did not dissipate

After exchanging pleasantries with our friends, we continued on and at the eleven-mile mark, we arrived at the Rogue River Ranch, now a historical backcountry museum. And that was when the wind started. We were all soaked at this point, having hiked in the rain for the last six hours or so, and that wind had us all shivering in no time flat. Backpacking is so much fun!

Arrival at Rogue River Ranch

We went to the ranch and sat on the porch with about a half-dozen other backpackers in a vain attempt to seek shelter from the elements. The caretaker offered the services of his wood stove to dry out clothing and gear but we all politely declined for there's no wood stoves in backpacking. He was a nice guy though, and it was a relief to know hikers in trouble could have a place to go to for help, if needed. At any rate, we camped by the river and all of us were in our tents by three o'clock in the afternoon, listening to the wind and rain raging on the other side of our flimsy tent fabric.

Day 3

Still not dissipating, Terry

The ranch caretaker did share with us that the storm would abate this morning, but you'd never know it from the rain that was still vigorously pelting our campsite. Humorously enough, we held a quick meeting to decide that we'd start our hike later in the morning when the weather would break, the humor being that the meeting was held verbally, each one of us participating from inside one's own tent. It was like the backpacking version of a Zoom Meeting.

Overjoyed when the sun broke out

From the ranch, there is a short road walk to the Marial Trailhead and it was somewhere around there that the mid-morning sun came out, warming limbs and souls alike. From Marial, the trail entered an amazing world comprised mostly of black jagged rock at the bottom of the river canyon. Here, the Rogue funnels into narrow Mule Creek Canyon, famed as a formidable challenge for rafters. The precarious trail is etched into a cliff face and you really want to watch your step here, for the drop-off from the trail is sheer. The highlight of this section is Stair Creek, which tumbles into the Rogue in a series of awesome waterfalls. One other highlight was that because of the sun, we removed rain gear, jackets, pant legs, and applied sunscreen to our pale and pallid skins. 

Precarious trail etched onto a cliff

Continuing onward, we passed through the grounds of Paradise Lodge, which was not as backpacker friendly as it had been in years past, although they graciously let us picnic on their deck. From there it was the usual up and down ramble over flowing creeks, through lush forests, and across dry and open cliffs. At the ten mile mark, we set up camp at Tacoma Camp, well populated with rafters camping there.

Day 4

Tacoma Rapids as we began the hike out

Day 4 was getaway day. It also was our shortest day, coming in at a paltry 7.9 miles. Good thing too, because hiking in wet shoes during Day 2's deluge had given me some blisters. Of course, the last and easiest day also had the best weather, something that had also occurred during my two other through-hikes of the Rogue River Trail. It must be a rule.

Peaceful Flora Dell Falls

The main highlight as we left Tacoma Camp was Flora Dell Falls, where Flora Dell Creek tumbles over a cliff to splash into its basin. The weather wasn't particularly warm but the cool spray blowing off the picturesque cascade still felt refreshing.

Pathway through the woods

The remainder of the hike crossed several creeks and was mostly wooded. The Rogue had been the official Wild and Scenic Rogue River during our hike but here, the river widened and began flowing a lot more in keeping with its now ponderous bulk. Welcome to the Tame and Civilized Rogue River, boys and girls. We did have two steep uphill sections to hike over though, as the trail had to detour around some private property parcels, much to our annoyance.

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The end of the Rogue River Trail was pretty spectacular, though, as it went through a long extended pasture in a valley ringed by forested mountains.  As we hiked by, appreciating the postcard view under a blue sky, incurious cows impassively gazed at us. The trailhead put an official end to the Rogue River Trail but we still had a short walk on a roadway to where my car was waiting for us at Foster Bar.

We did it!

We did it! Even though this was my third go-round with the Rogue River Trail, I still felt a profound sense of accomplishment. No doubt my newbs felt a similar sense of accomplishment, unburdened by the ennui that multiple hikes on the same trail can engender. And as a reward, we stopped in Gold Beach for barbecue sandwiches that were to die for, in our deprived post-hike condition. There are some things about civilization that you just appreciate more after a long backpack trip.

Elegant brodeaia, looking elegant, as always

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

Rogue River Trail 2/2020

The Rogue River Trail is like an old friend that I visit several times a year to reminisce and share stories with, but without the all the drinking of whiskey and spitting of tobacco from the front porch. I've long ago lost count of how many times I've hiked this trail but each and every time out, the same old scenery is different in some way, shape, or form, never failing to provide a day's worth of enjoyment. That's why I hike this trail over and over again so it should come as no surprise that on a chill February day, four old hikers (some older than others) set out on the Rogue River Trail to visit our perennial friend for alt least the 3,072nd time, but who's counting?

Crystal clear pool on a seasonal creek

Despite the comfortable familiarity of the route, the hike is different every time out (I know, I'm repeating myself, aren't I?). Today's exercise in differentness was the sun and shade. The planet and earth had aligned just so, leaving the river canyon in deep and dark shade despite it being a sunny day in general. Every time the high ridges and mountains prevented the sun from reaching the river flowing in its deep canyon, the temperature dropped, chilling noses, ears, fingers, and any other unprotected body parts. 

From light unto dark

The river zigs and zags on its quest to become one with the ocean and every time the trail rounded a bend, the sun emerged from its blocked-by-mountains purgatory to bathe us in unseasonably warm sunlight. Eventually, I gave up trying to put on or remove layers to get warmer, colder, or just righter, settling instead on hiking in short sleeves and just putting up with shivering in the shade until the sun came out from behind the high ridges.

Saxifrage graced moist cliffs

The Rogue River Trail puts on a vibrant wildflower show each spring and we were ahead of the floral fireworks. However, there were some early blossomers commencing the blooming festivities, notably those being saxifrage, Hall's desert parsley, snow queen, with occasional specimens of Oregon sunshine and oaks toothwort. (Grammatical question: shouldn't the plural of toothwort be teethwort?) I can't quite say much photography ensued because there weren't that many wildflowers to take photos of...yet.

The leaves of laurel are more fragrant than the flowers

One of my favorite things about the Rogue River Trail is the forest comprised of laurel, tan oak, and madrone treees. The laurels were sporting umbels of yet unopened flower buds and as always, the fragrance of the leaves entranced passing hikers. The madrones reached up to the blue sky overhead, their wiggly smooth orange-colored trunks providing a pleasing visual contrast to all the blue and green above and around the trail. A cousin to madrone, manzanita shrubs contributed their blue-gray leaves and smooth burgundy-colored limbs and trunks to the shrubbery rainbow flanking the trail. And as always, the mottled light filtering through the trees created a pleasant ambiance to hike in.

A small spring runoff trickles across the trail

If you've ever hiked the Rogue River Trail in the summer, then you are well aware that it can get blazing hot, arid, and dry, with the rocky cliffs well populated by buzzing rattlesnakes, ex-wives, and other scaly reptiles. However, in spring and early summer, small creeks run across the trail, the tinkling waters providing a musical backdrop to the all the usual sounds of the forest mixed in with some huffing and puffing from old out-of-shape hikers (present company included). Today was no different and I was only too happy to get boots wet as I splashed across the burbling creeks.

Snow queen, blooming on the forest floor

Our party of four had gotten spread out as John and Jennifer had left me in their dust as is their usual wont, and I had left Dianne in my dust as is my usual wont. Mostly, I just hiked by myself, accompanied by my own idle thoughts on a gorgeous day. We had talked about lunching at Whiskey Creek Cabin, a backwoods museum and historical site but when I arrived, I had the whole place to myself. Obviously, John and Jennifer had continued on further up the trail. Nonetheless, I enjoyed lazing on the grass, eating lunch amid the rusting mining relics strewn about in front of the rustic cabin. 

Sun and shade on the trail

I did run into John and Jennifer lunching on a sun-exposed beach where Whiskey Creek met the Rogue River and we called out greetings to each other as I continued hiking back to the trailhead at Graves Creek. Wanting to prove my mettle somewhat, I pushed my pace in what I presumed would be a vain attempt to keep from being overtaken by my speedy comrades. Actually, I managed to pull off the feat, arriving at the trailhead mere minutes in front of the two uber-hikers.

Thanks old friend, I needed that!

As always, it was nice to fraternize with our old friend the Rogue River Trail, and I certainly look forward to my next visit there. For more photos of this hike, please visit the Flickr album.

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Rogue River Trail

I was sort of playing hooky from work (although it's not really playing hooky if you have permission from your employer) and joined friends John, Jennifer, Lindsay, and Penny on a mid-week hike. This was the day after the 2018 mid-term elections and already the sonic space that had previously been filled up with toxic political ads was blissfully quiet. Given our politics these days, the reflexive cacophony will soon resume, the relative silence being fleeting and ephemeral. Just a thought: Let's suppose I am going to vote for Candidate A. At the halftime break of a Portland Timber's game, while I'm assembling a taco in the kitchen, a commercial runs and the narrator says with snark and condescension dripping off of every hanging syllable, "Candidate A: Bad for you, bad for America". Am I supposed to think to myself "Wow, I had no idea Candidate A was bad for me, thanks for letting me know!. And bad for America too? Why, I'd be unpatriotic if I voted for him or her so I'm switching to Candidate B!" Does that ever really happen? And what happens to my vote when next I see an anti-Candidate B ad? Yeesh, my mind yearns for more intelligent discussion and a world with no election ads of any sort.

A photographic metaphor for elections

Speaking of more intelligence, we were out hiking on the Rogue River Trail. The trail showed signs of recent use but not by people avoiding election commercials. Nope, the frequent piles of dark black/purple poop evidenced fitness-oriented bears also enjoy hiking on the cliffs above the Rogue River. Or maybe they were expressing in their own bear way, their opinion of all the "Vote for Smokey" ads. Not that I am a poop connoisseur or poopologist, but many of the piles were seemingly just a few minutes old and answered the age old question "Do bears poop in the woods?", the answer being "No, but they do poop on the trail!" At any rate, I'm glad to report that no live bears were encountered by live hikers on this hike. I daresay there'd be a few more piles of poop on the path if that were that to happen.

The mountains were mist-covered
before the morning burn-off

It was a chill morning but the day was mostly sunny. The tall peaks surrounding the river all had their noses up in the clouds but after a mile or so of hiking, the clouds had burned off. The river was running a dark green but still had a little silt due to the rains from the week prior. The air had that pre-winter snap to it and we all hiked in jackets, despite the sun.

A weak sun filters through the trees

I tend to hike this trail in the early spring so it was a little surprising to see the small tributary creeks either dried up or just barely trickling, Sunlight trickled through the maze of tree leaves and branches arching over the trail, illuminating some of the autumnal-colored leaves and warming the hearts of hikers, if not their actual bodies.

The iPads of yore

We hiked as far as the historic Whiskey Creek Cabin where we took in the artifacts and rusting mining equipment surrounding the rustic abode. After the cursory visit to the backwoods museum, we plopped down in cool sand by the river at Whiskey Creek Camp. Jennifer, John, Lindsay, and I had all previously hiked full 40 mile length of the Rogue River Trail, and we regaled Penny with tales of our respective ventures, some of which were surely embellished.

Madrones, with some winter fur

Penny and I were both taking photographs and we soon lagged behind the front three of our small group. But hey. the river was ensconced deep in it's canyon with tranquil pools that reflected nicely in the shade, and each pool just had to be photographed. The big-leaf maples still had yellow leaves hanging off their limbs, further adding to our lagging behind.

Candidates A and B

After taking photos of everything we could think of, which included bear poop, we eventually arrived at the trailhead and our patiently waiting comrades, It had been a pleasant day and we all averred we had enjoyed the chilly weather, if only for the rare sunlight between rainy days. As we left the parking area, we spotted some goat creatures that for some reason, reminded me of Candidate B.  At least the they didn't bleat "Vote for me-e-e-e-...!"

I'm likin' the lichen

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

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Rogue River Trail 1/2018

Last December I hiked at Cape Blanco and then the Rogue River. In January, I hiked at Cape Blanco and then the Rogue River. See a trend? Yup, me too, but rest assured that in February, I will not hike at Cape Blanco or the Rogue River. I did have good reason to double up on Cape Blanco though, as I was helping Lane get acquainted with the route and then helping him lead a very large group on the subsequent outing, But the twin Rogue River hikes were more happenstance than actual intent.

Tumbling creek falling into the river

Daweson and I had hiked on the Rogue River Trail in December and shortly afterwards, the Friends of the Umpqua added the Rogue River Trail to their schedule. So my choice on this January Saturday was to hike elsewhere alone or reenact the hike with the club. Apparently, I needed company on this day, for I joined up with the club and hiked the oh-so-familiar Rogue River Trail with my friends. Well, maybe it's a stretch to say that I have actual friends, but at any rate I had company and companionship on this hike, if for no other reason than I had the car keys in my possession.

Rain was a constant threat

Actually, the decision to hike along the Rogue had more to do with weather than having comrades somehow validate my meager inconsequential existence as a human being. It had been pretty rainy which meant snow in the Cascades and less than optimal conditions at the coast. Chances were pretty high that we would get rained on at the Rogue but at least it would be a short drive for that dubious privilege.

A waterfall tumbles across the trail

The theme of the December Rogue River hike was cold air and it was definitely warmer now than it had been back then. The current hike was much wetter, though. About a half-mile from the trailhead, a small creek waterfalls onto the trail at the infamous "wet spot". The trail is narrow and due to the year round waterfall, the rocks can get quite slippery when the algae grows. Normally, you cross the wet spot very carefully, placing your hands on the cliff side for support. However, the waterfall was carrying so much volume that there was no hope of staying dry, and my right leg was promptly soaked from the hip down, thanks to immersing said leg in said waterfall as I crossed. Good thing it wasn't as cold as that December hike!

Typical view from the trail

Because of the increased water volume, the Rogue River was not its usual blue-green, aquamarine water machine. Today, the water was greenish-brown like dooky water backing up behind a pipe blockage, with the increased bulk of the river appearing somewhat menacing when seen from up close. Fortunately, we hiked mostly high above the river, enjoying views of the river safely ensconced in its canyon.

Whiskey Creek

On any spring day, numerous creeks and seasonal runoffs cross the trail and today was no different. What was different was the volume of water, as almost all of the intermittent streams were larger than normal due to the recent run of rain. The good news was that while we were occasionally spattered with raindrops, the day remained relatively dry. In fact, about two miles into the hike, the sun  even broke out and we basked in its warm bright glory...for all of two minutes. The day then went dark and cloudy and so it would remain.

Oregon sunshine says spring cometh

We ate lunch at rustic Whiskey Creek Cabin before turning around. I soon lagged far behind everybody else but there were so many things to take pictures of. I actually spotted my first wildflowers of the year, in the form of Oregon sunshine, oak toothwort, and cliff-hugging moisture-loving saxifrage. That's OK, though, as I was driving and my car-mates had to wait for me out of necessity. That's it for this month's version of the Rogue River hike and we'll see you at Cape Blanco next month...not!

An unnamed creek splashes across the trail

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

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Rogue River Trail 12/2017

After we finished this hike, I dropped Daweson off at his home. On the front porch, his parents and other assorted other relatives were sitting and conversing in the early evening. "How was your hike?" they asked. Daweson replied with an air of casual nonchalance, "We weren't feeling it today, so we only hiked 7.5 miles". It was kind of like a mike drop without the mike and I do believe he has mastered the fine art of bragging without braggadocio. He's definitely my grandson!

The trail makes my inner mountain goat happy

Of course, those of us that live in the hiking world are quite aware that 7.5 miles is just another hike, the moderate distance not necessarily constituting an epic test of manhood or womanhood. But the day was cold and chilly, and a brisk wind intermittently swept up the Rogue River canyon so we were both OK with the rather bland length of the hike.

Snow, in the mountains above

According to the car themometer, it was 34 degrees at the start and it would "warm" up to 38 degrees by hike's end. The sky was darkly overcast and foreboding, it felt like rain was an imminent eventuality and snow a distinct possibility.  Snow line was about 500 feet above us, although the snow covered ridges and peaks were all hidden by the cloud cover. And just to hammer the cold nail point home, a gusty wind cuffed and buffeted all life forms shivering in the river canyon. This was Daweson's first time on the Rogue River Trail and it was a rather chilly initiation by one of Oregon's premier hiking trails.

The Rogue River, all day long

The trail charged up to the cliffs above the river and provided view after view after view of river and canyon. The river was running fairly clear and was showing off a deep blue green color. Despite the gloomy weather, there is something about an aquamarine river coursing through a mossy green rocky canyon on a gray day. The one member of our party with a camera soon lagged behind, taking picture after picture of the moody scenery.

Daweson gawks at ospreys and Sanderson Island

After a mile or so, bouldery Sanderson Island hove into view. The trail here seems particularly cliffy and is one of my favorite photo stops, even though I probably have taken thousands of photos from the same spot. It never gets old and I never tire of the views on the Rogue River Trail. Anyway, as we stopped to gawk at the island, an osprey sped up the canyon, barely flapping its wings as it rode the air currents. 

The high-water-mark mark

A short climb up a brief paved section of trail brought us to the high water mark. By way of explanation, the river flooded in 1964 and a sign marks where the river crested about 50 feet above river level. There used to be a bridge here, and all that remains of the bridge are cement piers on the south bank. The rest of the bridge was swept away in that massive flood event from 1964. That would have been a rare good day to cancel hiking on the Rogue River Trail. 

Madrone and laurel

After the high water mark, the trail entered a forest comprised of that odd Siskiyou Mountains mix of laurel, tan oak, madrone, and conifers of various specie. We could hear Rainie Falls roaring below, but the falls were pretty much hidden from view by the trees. This time of year, all manner of creeks and runoffs were splashing across the trail and we got plenty of practice rock-hopping across wet spots.

Whiskey Creek

At Whiskey Creek Camp, a campsite for the rafting crowd, we strolled on the sandy beach next to the river. The river was slow and tranquil here, its ponderous bulk still somewhat menacing. Across the river, Rum Creek splashed noisily into the Rogue while on our side of the river, Whiskey Creek did likewise. With Booze Creek up ahead another mile, one could infer that the Rogue River drove prospectors of yesteryear to drink.

Mushroom at Whiskey Creek Cabin

Despite my urging, Daweson refused to touch the wires of the bear pen fencing. The bear pens (my term) are small corrals, connected to a car battery,  in which rafters and backpackers store their food inside for the purpose of deterring habituated bears from raiding camps. From personal (accidental) experience, those wires do pack a sharp bite, so it's probably a good thing Daweson doesn't always blindly obey his supposedly wiser grandfather.

Daweson, working on his spaghetti arms

We turned around at Whiskey Creek Cabin, a former prospector abode now doing duty as a backwoods museum of sorts. The cabin is stuffed with tools, tin cans, and antique bedsprings, providing a rusty look into the pioneering and mining history of the Rogue River. Strewn about the site are large heavy pieces of rusting mining equipment while the remnants of a flume ditch can still be seen in the woods above the cabin. 

Cliff-hugging trail at Sanderson Island

From there it was back the way we came, the wind at our backs this time. Despite the dark sky, the clouds never made good on the threat of rain. Even though we walked in less than optimal conditions, Daweson averred that his first Rogue River Trail experience was indeed a grand venture. Plus, it gave him the rightful opportunity to artfully boast about the hike.

Manzanita tree

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

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