Waldo Lake (south end)

Waldo Lake sprawls over Oregon's Cascade Range like a watery blue diva draped across a forested chaise lounge, but without the shrill and intemperate demands for fruit and a masseuse. The lake is obviously quite large, as naturally befits Oregon's second largest natural lake. The waters are as clear as algebra's quadratic formula and motors are not allowed on the lake in order to preserve the lake's famed clarity. Circumnavigating the lake, the 22 mile Waldo Lake Trail offers hikers a chance to see a natural wonder pretty much as it was and hopefully, as it always will be.

Man, the mosquitoes are huge!

We had backpacked around the lake several years ago and we four participants will always remember that ill-fated trek for the incredible amount of mosquitoes pestering us for all 22 miles. However, in early October the vicious bloodsuckers had long since departed, and it was a much more pleasant hike than that infamous backpack trip.  I was leading a Friends of the Umpqua Hiking Club venture and most of the attendees had never hiked before in the Waldo Lake area, it was an opportunity to spread the word of Waldo, so to speak.

Big fish in a small pond

As we started, there was a crispness in the air: not cold enough to be uncomfortable, but cool enough to remind us winter is coming and coming soon. It had rained the day before and the forest around the lake was damp as a result. As we started out at Shadow Bay, Waldo Lake immediately made an appearance and the club was generally underwhelmed as Waldo looked pretty much like your garden-variety small pond.

Irish Mountain, across Waldo Lake

The "small pond" was just a secluded cove on the lake though, and once we rounded the cove, the lake opened up and I heard a chorus of appreciative oh-wows or some variation thereof. The lake stretched out in its second-largest lake glory, ringed by mountains all around. There was a cloud cover hovering overhead so we could not quite see the Three Sisters, though.

We found Waldo!

The trail basically followed the southern shore of Waldo Lake and offered fantastic views at several openings in the forest. At one point the trail peeled away from the lake a bit and we stopped for a regroup at the South Waldo Shelter, where we had camped on that famed mosquito backpack trip. It was here that John and I got our signals crossed.

I followed this leader

I was leading from the rear while John was hiking at the front with the faster hikers. I carried my camera and the faster hikers did not carry any cameras at all in what amounts to your basic cause and effect. John had survived that infamous backpack trip so I told him to stop at a scenic beach on the southwest corner of the lake. The problem was I said "beach", he heard "beach" but we each pictured a different beach. He had recalled a swimming area further up the trail while I had in mind a nearer beach. So, he took everybody past the Black Meadow Trail junction and my intended loop hike will have to wait for another day.

A wild rose displays its autumn plumage

No complaints, though, because there's nothing wrong with hiking on the Waldo Lake Trail. The trail went up and down through forest carpeted with wild rose and huckleberry bushes, all beginning to show their autumn colors. And after 3.5 miles or so, we laggards came across John's group lunching next to his swimming spot. The only swimmer in the lake, though, was Kevin's four-legged hiking buddy Talon.

Lunchtime view of The Twins

Storm clouds had come in and the scene was moody and dramatic across the lake. The Twins, a great hike in its own right, loomed over the other side of the lake with Maiden Peak also making an appearance further south. It was a beautiful scene despite the angry buzzing of wasps from a nest we had inadvertently sat next to. Some of us enjoyed lunch more than others, the deciding factor being whether one got stung or not.

Mushrooms pose for a family portrait

From there, it was a perfunctory walk back to the trailhead while stepping out of the way for passing mountain bikers. Kevin and I lagged way behind, we both carried cameras and for us, the hike had degenerated into a mycological photo shoot as mushrooms of all kinds were sprouting everywhere in the forest. It was a nice and slow return back to the lake, especially since the threatening storm clouds never rained on us.

Sunset at Waldo Lake

After the hike, Kevin and I both camped at the lake (in separate tents, just to clarify), the temperature dropped and dang, it got cold. Winter is most definitely around the corner. However, the clouds parted here and there as the sun set and we enjoyed a spectacular sunset over the lake. Once the sun ducked behind the mountains, it became all about seeking warmth in a sleeping bag (separate bags, just like tents!) because dang, it was cold.

Mushrooms, packed tighter than sardines

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

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Seaside, Oregon

This posting is more travelogue than hiking blog but I promise the next posting will be all about the trail. In the meantime, Dollie and I are still in Seaside with in-laws, children, and our children's children. After our morning bike ride to Fort Stevens, we quickly got cleaned up and headed out to the helipad with Jessie (daughter) and Trevor (belongs to Jessie).

Not doing as I was told

At the helipad, we had to watch a safety video that basically told us how to buckle up and how to use the microphone and headset for communication in the noisy helicopter. A eager young man named Patrick then explained in a very loud voice the boarding protocol which basically amounted to "...do what I tell you!"

Seaside,...yip, yip!

While waiting for our ride, we observed the small copter taking off and I think all four of us got the yips as we watched it fly away. Soon it was our turn and we shoehorned ourselves into the back seat. The ground dropped away rapidly as we took off and in no time at all several tons of metal was where it had no business being: in the air, thousands of feet above Seaside. More yips were felt.

View to Tillamook Head

There was a wildfire near Mount Hood and smoke from that fire prevented us from seeing Mount Ranier but we could see a lot of other cool stuff like Seaside, Tillamook Head, the Columbia River, Saddle Mountain, and the Necanicum River as it exited at Seaside. The view was so cool, we all soon forgot about having the yips.

Cowabunga!

After dinner, we all headed to the beach to enjoy a summer evening. Roy brought boogie boards and he, Andy, Spencer, and Trevor skidded on the wet sand, some more gracefully than others.  Not wanting to embarrass myself, I was content to merely take pictures of the boarders. Young Spencer was a natural and displayed perfect form nearly every time. Andy has his mother's coordination and enough said about that.

Sunset at Seaside

The sun gradually sank in the sky and provided us another great coastal sunset. The beach was dotted with bonfires like the Trojan beaches during the Greek siege, there was a noticeable chill to the air once the sun departed. Dollie and I had taken a short bike ride around Seaside prior to the beach festivities and as we headed back to the vacation rental, I was still feeling energetic so I took a right turn on the promenade and hiked into Seaside.

Sunset fans

It was more night than day but there still was a faint glow on the horizon as the lanterns illuminated the promenade. Sunset lovers abounded, watching the spectacular end of the day from the Seaside Roundabout. Below, several teens were creatively dancing with torches while children played on swing sets. Totally festive and in keeping with our brief stay in Seaside.  

Seaside makes Jessie jump for joy!

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

Seaside promenade

Fire dancers

Monsters roamed the shops at night

A Tale of Two Forts

In 1805, the Lewis and Clark expedition was about to face winter along the Columbia River and the available options for weathering a Pacific Northwest winter were to move upriver, camp on the Washington side of the river, or camp on the Oregon side. Per Wikipedia, Washington's diet was deemed too boring and the weather too rainy (the same still holds true today!). On the recommendation of the local natives, Lewis and Clark opted to build an encampment along Oregon's Lewis and Clark River in what truly was an amazing coincidence.

Encampment detail

Well, the camp was built in an Oregon winter storm which, as we Oregonians know all too well, last about 9 months or so. So the Lewis and Clark expedition soon found the Oregon diet too boring and the weather too rainy (and the same still holds true today!). Apparently they had enough of our weather and they left the area well ahead of schedule (I call it "running away") and their encampment, known as Fort Clatsop, eventually decayed as all things do in Oregon's wet climate. A replica was later built using Lewis and Clark's sketches and that replica burnt down in a 2005 fire, so another replica was subsequently built (but with smoke detectors, this time). I doubt the smoke detectors were in Lewis and Clark's sketches.

Bringing dignity and respect to Sacajawea

Dollie, Mom Gier, and I made a quick trip to visit the fort on our stay in Seaside. The fort is the centerpiece of Lewis and Clark National Historic Park and we toured the small encampment. The austere encampment is not very big and you could almost smell the unwashed bodies in the confined spaces in the wooden structures. Oh, that also might have been me, but I digress. After touring the rustic encampment, Dollie and I took a short walk on some boardwalks to the Lewis and Clark River where the view of Saddle Mountain's tip got my attention because the mountains always call me.

Happy cyclists

The next day, Dollie and I got up early and hopped on the bicycles. We pedaled up the coast highway to Fort Stevens State Park, a rather large park that is part of the Lewis and Clark National and State Park complex. Fort Stevens was built during the Civil War to guard the mouth of the Columbia against the British during the Pig War. I kid you not, we nearly went to war with England over a British pig shot by an American settler, sometimes comedy just writes itself.

What's left of the Peter Iredale

Fortunately, we never quite got around to shooting each other and both sides continued to eat bacon and pork chops with impunity. It was a much more peaceful setting when Dollie and I arrived at the park on a chilly morn. Our first stop was at the wreck of the Peter Iredale, a 1906 shipwreck that is still visible today. Since we were there so early, there weren't many people around which is not a normal occurrence, judging by all the footprints in the sand. It sure makes for nicer photographs without the thundering sandaled hordes intruding into the camera viewfinder.

A ship on the Columbia River

Using a combination of bike trails and roadways, we cycled through low marshlands to the Columbia River.  The river is the Mighty Columbia here, flowing wide, deep, and fast. We watched large cargo ships make their way upriver, presumably on their way to Portland. Fishermen by the pailful were plying their avocation along the sandy river banks.

Jetty at the mouth of the Columbia

The last stop was the south jetty at the actual mouth of the Columbia. Across the river was Cape Disappointment on the Washington state side. I wondered if the cape was named by Lewis and Clark for the boring diet, rainy weather, or maybe the Seattle Mariners. There is a wooden tower that provided a great view of the Oregon coast arcing towards Seaside in the morning sun and we partook thereof. We then completed our 40 mile ride in short order and arrived at the vacation rental as everybody else was just getting up, allowing us to smugly proclaim "40 miles before breakfast, yeah baby!" Our family thinks Dollie and I are nuts.

The wreck of the Peter Iredale

For more pictures of Fort Clatsop and Fort Stevens, just click on the links below.

Fort Clatsop

Fort Stevens

Tillamook Head

I didn't think I liked this hike all that much, it just didn't seem all that scenic. But several weeks later I looked at my pictures and decided that this hike was pretty cool after all. Probably my perception of his hike was colored by the formidable climb up Tillamook Head in warm weather with a backpack on. Perception and memory can be fickle like that.

Awesome view to Arch Cape

Dollie, Dollie-Mom, and yours truly were headed to the tourist town of Seaside for a family get-together, but spending days with family wasn't the reason (this time!) for heading to the hills with a backpack on. No, the underlying reason was simply twofold: I had never hiked on Tillamook Head and we were in the area.

Tillamook Head, bane of my weekend

The hike began in popular Ecola State Park, just north of Cannon Beach. Before the actual work began, a visit to the viewpoint at Indian Point was in order. The point has a parking lot on it so there were plenty of visitors enjoying the fantastic view south towards Cannon Beach and Arch Cape as the sea shimmered in the midday sun. Lots of pictures were taken by your merry blogster but the camera had to be hurriedly stowed away as there was plenty of hiking toil and labor yet to be done.

Watch the welcome mat!

The hike got off to a local flavor at a footbridge within ten yards of the trailhead. A woman was on the footbridge sporting a new cast on her forearm and she cheerily said she was Katrina from Roseburg and her arm was broken when the welcome mat at the Chevron station tripped her up. Not very welcoming, if you ask me.

Shade is not overrated

The trail from Indian Point to Indian Beach was mostly shaded but there were intermittent windows in the trees to provide fantastic views of the islands below, one of which was noticeably arched. I was accompanied off and on by Curt, a hiker from Portland. He said he was inspired enough by me to return with a backpack at some future date. I preach the gospel and it's always nice to enlist another acolyte into the Church of the Blessed Hiking Trail. However, if he'd seen me stagger up Tillamook Head, he probably would have been less inspired.

View to Indian Beach

The trail provided nice overlooks of Indian Beach on the walk north. Tucked into a relatively small nook in the Oregon shore kitchen, the beach is accessible by car and as a result, is well populated. Surfers dotted the blue-green waters like fish food flakes floating in a giant shark tank. Beach walkers looked like ants as they explored the beach far below my trail. Eventually the route dropped down to beach level, crossing Canyon Creek and Indian Creek just below the parking lot.

Forest above the trail

The trail sign said Hiker Camp was "only" 1 1/4 miles away but what the cheerfully painted sign did not tell me was that the camp was about 1,000 feet above. It was on this short piece of trail that I vowed never to go hiking again. It was a bloody and brutal struggle upwards and I rested at viewpoints and switchbacks alike, and sometimes I rested at points in between.

Be it ever so humble...

It was a joyous moment when at a trail junction, another sign told me Hiker Camp was only 1/8 of a mile further. Yay, all the bad uphill had stopped! The camp is a collection of three cabins with bunks, and  I quickly staked my claim to a bunk, not that there was any competition. Already at the camp were Hotfeet and Skunk, from New York. They had just finished hiking a big chunk of the PCT (they were like, "Climb, what climb?") and were visiting the Oregon coast before their return to New York. Hotfeet got her trail name because she liked to warm her feet by the fire; Skunk got his trail name from his feet, too, but for a different reason.

Sunset comes to the forest

There is a short trail from the camp leading to a viewpoint overlooking Tillamook Rock, or "Old Tilly" as the locals refer to the small island with an equally small lighthouse on it. The lighthouse was routinely assaulted by the sea and pity the unlucky sod who drew keeper duty on "Old Tilly". At some point it was abandoned and now it's privately owned and does duty as a columbarium, or storage place of cinerary urns for the cremated. As I watched from the overlook, not much was happening at Tillamook Rock, it was pretty much a dead place.

Old Tilly, tucking in for the night

The sunset show was spectacular from the overlook and my camera was kept busy as day slipped into night, leaving Old Tilly floating in the sea under an orange sky. As we returned back to Hiker Camp, we were joined by another couple who had hightailed it to Seaside after their workday was done in Portland. They figured on doing the short trip in from the Seaside trailhead but "didn't think about climbing 900 feet in one mile" per the male half. Boy, could I relate!

Staircases didn't help

I had a notion that we were camping on top of the head but I was quickly disavowed of that notion on the hike out the following morning. There was nearly 300 feet of climbing left, mostly all at once. And lest I become complacent about topping out, the trail then proceeded to go up and down for a couple of miles as it traced the uneven edge of Tillamook Head.

Bird stair stepper

But at least the new day was cool and the trail was well shaded. Mushrooms sprouted on trees and morning sunlight slanted through the trees as I grumbled and mumbled on the trail. Eventually the trail did top out for the final time, beginning a precipitous drop down to the town of Seaside.

The Oregon Coast Trail

The descent was equally demanding as the climb up, dropping 900 feet in little over a mile. Lush vegetation seriously encroached the trail and there were several large patches of fallen trees across the trail. I got plenty of practice doing the trail limbo to get through. There were several encounters with gasping and sweaty hikers coming up who asked me ever so hopefully "Are we at the top, yet?" Heh-heh, it's so much fun being the bearer of bad news.

On the Seaside promenade

Eventually, all the bad downhill stopped as I walked through a wooden archway and onto a city street. The remainder of this hike was on the empty streets of Seaside. No doubt the residents thought I was a homeless person, albeit one with a really nice camera. Several miles later on the Seaside promenade I met up with Dollie, a shower, and hot food. There'd be no rest for the tired, though, as I was quickly attacked by grandchildren happy to wrestle with their grandfather who was totally pooped from a hike he belatedly decided he liked.

A blackberry leaf catches some sun

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

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Patjen Lakes

In 2011 the small Shadow Lake Fire started southeast of Mount Washington and little or no resources were devoted to the small fire until it swept over the Pacific Crest Trail (hereafter referred to as the PCT) and burned all the way to popular Big Lake. It was OK to burn the PCT because that only affects hikers and "Who cares about them?" (Says I, with just a hint of bitterness). However, when the fire threatened the large youth camp near Big Lake, considerable resources were quickly marshaled towards a more serious firefighting effort and the developed eastern shore of Big Lake was saved.

Degenerative tree disease

Because of several other fires in the Mount Washington Wilderness over the years, the wilderness today consists of pointy Mount Washington and acres of scorched earth and dead trees. There is probably not a single live tree in the whole wilderness. However, life bursts at the scorched seams despite all the death and destruction. Personally, I find that a burn zone has a special beauty all its own and I am not averse to hiking in one.

Waving plumes of dry beargrass

All this ashy rumination about forest fires came about because of a recent hike on the PCT in the Mount Washington Wilderness. There was ample opportunity to ponder the aesthetics of burnt forest near the Hoodoo Mountain ski resort on a hike in the Shadow Lake Fire zone. The hike would head south towards Mexico, although I would wind up just several thousand miles short of the southern terminus of the PCT. It was a game try, though.

Fireweed loves a good burn zone, too

As previously stated, life abounded. Fireweed, aster, common yarrow, and goldenrod were still blooming here and there along the trail. Because of the tree-killing fire, sun-loving bracken fern had laid claim to large patches of open forest floor. Bracket fungus, affectionately known as "conks", were slowly eating away at the dead and decaying trees. Sulphur butterflies congregated on the occasional damp spot on trail, sharing gossip as they licked wet soil. The trail was lined with dried plumes of beargrass flowers, long since gone to seed. Woodpeckers were everywhere making their woodpecker music and judging from the quantity of their tapping, the dead forest obviously is full of happy peckers. And more importantly, young trees were sprouting everywhere, fully engaged in the process of replenishing the burned forest.

Cause and effect

The original plan was to hike up the PCT and get as close to Mount Washington as possible via trail. However, an intersecting trail with a "Big Lake" sign called out to my inner hiking attention deficit and I wound up taking the right turn to see what the Big Lake shiny object was all about.

Well-used trail to Big Lake

The youth camp at Big Lake is an important resupply stop for PCT hikers making the 2,500 or so mile trek from Mexico to Canada. Signs with detailed instructions for hikers about picking up supplies and where to camp and when to shower greeted me at the camp trailhead. Apparently, they are glad to help the through-hikers as long as they are not seen, heard, or smelled.

Why we hike

A short walk through the camp brought me to the shore of Big Lake and there was a stupendous view to Hoodoo Mountain, Hayrick Butte, and Three Fingered Jack, all rising dramatically across the blue waters of the lake. The trail map showed a trail contouring around the lake to the intersection with the Patjen Lakes Trail but the burn interjected its ugly sooty head into things when the trail petered out  in a tangle of fallen trees and thorny brambles along the lake.

This plant has the gall

Not being familiar with the layout around this part of the Cascades, I backtracked and hiked back up to an unmarked intersection just short of the PCT. Several more unsigned and unmapped trail intersections left me more confused than usual, but a series of left turns kept me heading in the right direction as Big Lake was eventually left behind.

It burns us!

After rising gradually for a mile or so, the trail crested a ridge covered in dead trees and headed gently downhill. Mount Washington was actually fairly close but it was hard to get a good look at the pointy peak due to the millions of ghostly trees in the way. There were several patches of dead saplings bent over where they died, you could practically hear the trees scream as they writhed in indescribable agony.

Oh deer!

The ambiance improved considerably at the first of the Patjen Lakes. The lake was surrounded by a grassy meadow and Mount Washington reflected nicely in the lake's waters. A deer grazed in the meadow but it was keeping way too still and was making no attempt to steal my hiking poles. It was a decoy and I waded through the grass, clouds of grasshoppers flitting just ahead of me, for a closer look and photograph of the decoy.

Patjen Lake, without the laughing hyena sound

Returning back to the trail, a short walk brought me to the second lake where it was time for lunch. Across the lake was a woman who loudly laughed like a hyena at EVERYTHING her male friend said. Seeking a more peaceful outdoor experience, the first lake was revisited for a less noisy laze.

Eminently beautiful

There is a third Patjen Lake but the guidebook made it seem like it was more wet spot than lake so I called two out of three and headed back to the trailhead. It was a pleasant walk listening to the staccato tap-tap-tap of hammering woodpeckers and the soft sighing of the breeze sifting through dead branches as shadows lengthened in the afternoon. Despite all the fire carnage, the hike had been eminently beautiful.

The first Patjen Lake

For more pictures of this fire-addled hike, please visit the Flickr album, and don't play with matches and "Oh, the irony of that statement" says my mother.

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