Umpqua Spit 8/2015

The only other time I backpacked to the end of Umpqua Spit, the weather, the clouds, the sky, and (most of all) the sunset were truly spectacular. Based on that wonderful weekend, Umpqua Spit became a recent selection for a casual two-day backpack. Memory can be selective and I neatly overlooked my first hike there with friend-cum-victim Lisa. On that ill-fated venture we had to contend with truly horrendous weather and running for our lives from a sudden sneaker wave. But since the weather was so fantastic the next time out, I'm now a wild-eyed hand-waving Umpqua Spit zealot. Actually, I'm sufficiently wild-eyed and hand waving enough without the Umpqua Spit-inspired zealotry, but I digress. At any rate, I sang enough praises about the spit that Lane and Kevin both decided to join me for a fine spittin' weekend at the Spit.  

Who let the dogs out? Who? Who?

At first. the weather was reminiscent of my earlier (good) trip what with blue sky and puffy white clouds floating above the Oregon coast on a gorgeous day. Kevin brought along his dog Wish and Wish was only too happy to splash in the surf. For a while we were joined by a black dog who merrily frolicked with a kindred canine spirit before a distant call from his owner ended all that fun.

Tidal runoff

There wasn't a lot of water in Threemile Creek and boots barely got wet as we splashed across. It was low tide and the surf had retreated below some sand bars, trapping water behind the bars in large pools that a certain dog liked to splash around in. The pools drained in haphazard fashion and we had to wade across a fair number of runoffs. At the larger pools, we simply detoured around them.

There will be no birds on the beach, by canine edict

Gulls and flocks of sanderlings were parked on the sand and Wish made it his personal mission to make sure all the birds he could see were airborne and off what he deemed to be his own private beach. Us photographers had to take hurried pictures of the birds before the dog chased them away.

Where'd the sunny day go?

Roughly, it was about 6 miles to the jetty at the Umpqua River and the closer we drew to the jetty, the least amount of sun shone down upon us. A thick cloud cover was coming in and the temperature cooled down quite a bit. It was tending towards stormy when we arrived at the jetty and so much for the Umpqua Spit 'n shine.

Home, home on the spit

At the jetty, we left the beach and scrambled up to the top of a grassy dune and pitched our tents in the tall grass.  Lane was my immediate neighbor and Kevin was just beyond Lane's site. Even though Kevin was only about 25 yards away from me, his tent was completely invisible due to the tall grass on the dunes.

Rusted equipment on a rocky point

After setting up camp and eating dinner, we took a short hike up the river along the jetty . We explored a small and rocky point in the middle of Winchester Bay that looked like it had served some industrial purpose in the days of yore. There were rotting pilings and a corroded bin of some sort that contained rocks. The point was littered with rusty machine parts and equipment and one plastic toy shovel that probably did not originate from the days of yore. A nice view of the bay, the town of Winchester Bay, the Umpqua Lighthouse, and the sandy spit was appreciated by all of us, except for maybe Wish who just lived in the moment and didn't really care about all that stuff.

Morning, gray and wet

Unlike my first trip, there was no sunset as the heavy cloud cover took care of that. So we tucked in early as the fog rolled in. I had brought my two-man Kelty tent and it had been field tested in rain so I was pretty secure about keeping the wet air out. However, the field test had been several years ago as I was so reminded when a cold water drop plopped on my forehead. And that was my night: drip, drip, drip. I couldn't tell if it was condensation on the inside or fog leaking through the tent from the outside, my wet forehead could make no such distinction. Not the most comfortable night I've spent on a backpack trip!

Hiking into the void

Early in the morning, I crawled out of my soggy sleeping bag and entered a foggy world of gray, gray, and more gray. It was so thick, the ocean was not visible at all, although the sound of the waves could be heard. We struck camp quickly and began walking the six miles back to the car. It was foggy so we couldn't really see much although Wish still had no problem spotting birds to chase. After six perfunctory miles in the gray, we enjoyed a fine brunch at Don's Diner in Reedsport. Life is good when you have a full belly after a full weekend.

Umpqua Spit is Number 1!

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

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South Slough

My buddy Lane had a computer problem recently and tragically, he forever lost a lot of his pictures. "Without the pictures, it's like it never happened. It just never happened at all" he moaned, wiping tears from his eyes. Well, halfway through this hike, I knew exactly what he meant when my camera suddenly quit working. So, using Lane's logic, we only made it halfway through a loop hike in the South Slough. Apparently, we are still there at the bottom of the loop, waiting pitifully for anyone to come give us a ride.

The Berry Hunter

I've driven past the South Slough National Estuarine Research Reserve entrance many times, whizzing by on on Seven Devils Road on the way to Cape Arago. However, I never felt the need to stop by for some hiking research of my own as I've always deemed the slough trail system too short and too tame for a Richard Hike. However, it was just right for a couple of young grandchildren so Aiden, Coral Rae, and I joined the Friends of the Umpqua Hiking Club for half of a short hike. The other half didn't happen, remember?

Old home on the Hinch homestead

This was a two-parter hike and the first portion was a short loop hike down to the former Hinch homestead with ruined home and barn adding a rustic flavor to this hike. And speaking of flavor, the blackberries and coastal huckleberries were in full fruity song and young Coral Rae walked slower and slower as she grazed the ample berrytude. Some older hikers were spotted doing likewise.

Whee!

After this short loop, we hopped in our cars and disembarked at the visitor's center where Coral Rae was disappointed her miserly grandfather wouldn't buy her a stuffed panda on demand. We began on the Ten-Minute Loop Trail and all I could think was "Ten-Minutes?  There's no ten minutes in hiking!" And just a couple of minutes later, we grabbed the North Creek Trail and were in business.

Arrival at the slough

The trail dropped down the creek's drainage, steadily losing elevation through some lush coastal forest. It was all thimbleberry, huckleberry (much to Coral Rae's delight), salal, ferns, and foxglove. The trail bottomed out onto the grassy marshes of the South Slough and it was there that technical difficulties began to rear their ugly electronic heads. I noticed my camera was having problem with the white balance and focusing. After some mild consternation, the camera began flashing an ominous message "Camera body is not communicating with the lens. Turn off the camera and clean the contacts on the camera lens". Just to hammer the dire point home, there also was a large red triangle with an exclamation point flashing on the display screen. 

One-hundred and twenty lens cleanings later, the camera could at least take one picture before giving up the whole picture taking thing. So the rest of the hike never happened but if it did, we took an old railway trail through grassy sloughs while bad cameras were hurled into the marsh in frustration. OK, that last part took place only in my imagination. Before beginning the big climb back to the visitors center, we paused on a wooden viewpoint that looked like a giant tree house.

Broken cameras make me sad and I want my binky

Both Aiden and Coral Rae were feeling walky, apparently, so I just tucked in behind them and followed them up. Whew! Those young legs can really scoot uphill!  However, they were burned out when we did finally reach the visitor center while I still had some gas in the tank, chalk one up to old-people pacing!

We had one more item of interest left to complete the day. A short drive to a pullout on Coos Head lead to a steep trail dropping through the trees on the cliffs of the head. Tree hugging was involved. But there was a tunnel cut through the head for some mysterious reason and we used the tunnel to cross over to the other side of Coos Head.

What happens to misbehaving cameras

And what was on the other side? Why a secret little cove of a beach. And in order to get down to the beach, one had to rappel down on a wet rope. My two young charges now thought this was the coolest hike ever and they scrambled up and down the rope like the little monkeys they are, Of course, there are no pictures so this really didn't happen. After we returned to the car, I backed the car over the camera and then went forward. Back, forward, back, forward, and so on until that miscreant camera had been properly punished. Of course, that didn't really happen, either.

Our crew

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

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The Balconies

As stated in my previous post, one of my many recollections about the Pinnacles involved caves. Not true caves, like Lehman Caves or Carlsbad Caverns where water leach caverns out of soft spots in the rock. Nope, these are talus caves, comprised of the empty spaces between large boulders. And when I say large, I mean large; the talus boulders are each approximately the size of Boise. Armed with flashlights, hikers can follow the arrows painted on the rocks and walk through the Pinnacles while hoping the nearby San Andreas Fault stays quiet for at least the duration of the cave hike. 

Shouldn't a creek have water in it?

There are two sets of caves in Pinnacles National Park: Bear Gulch Cave and Balconies Cave. For no reason at all, we chose the Balconies for our caving venture. The Old Pinnacles Trail took us in that direction, heading up Chalone Creek on a dusty and level path. It seems like the word "creek" gets carelessly bandied about as from an Oregonian's perspective, a creek should involve water flowing in it. The "creek" in this case was a dry wash paralleling the trail, the only difference between the creek bed and trail was that there were more rocks in the creek bed. Almost comically, we crossed the creek on a footbridge. Don't want to get our feet wet!

Rock wall along Chalone Creek

We had started relatively early, which really wasn't all that early because we were on vacation and never in a hurry. However, there still was a bit of morning coolness in the air and we were feeling frisky and fresh despite the notable lack of shade. As we worked our way up Chalone Creek, rock walls began to loom on either side of the trail. The walls gradually closed in and it soon felt like a real canyon.

Shade is not overrated

The Balconies are actually a large rock wall on the Pinnacles rim and I'm not sure why they are called that. A small glistening ribbon trickling down the face could be called a waterfall, given California's liberal use of water-related vocabulary. I shouldn't have gotten too snooty about water, or lack thereof, because at the base of a cliff was a small spring buzzing with thirsty yellow jackets. Green grass grew around the spring and the vegetation was, dare I say, rather lush.

Cave entrance

The water was trickling from the mouth of Balconies Cave and we went in a short distance before coming back out, eyes blinking in bright sunlight. Our plan was to hike the caves from the top down so we returned to the trail and began a short uphill hike as the trail switchbacked to and fro up the canyon walls. The morning chill had since departed and we baked under the hot sun like a pair of tamales. 

"Waterfall" on the Balconies

As we contoured below the cliffs, there were a number of climber trails heading to the base of the various rock walls with names like Tilted Terrace. Normally, I can support the concept of tilted terraces when hiking but when you have stretchers and bone splints stashed handily at the base...well, that tells me all I need to know about the safety of rock climbing.

We went under

Once we crested over a pass below the rock wall of The Balconies, the trail switchbacked to and fro like an undecided voter in an election year, bringing us to the upper cave entrance. Dollie and I entered an increasingly narrow trail that required mild rock climbing here and there. At the real entrance, we donned headlamps and I started to go down.

Dollie enters her home

Below me, a rock slope tailed away at a steep angle and my tender ankle (I had twisted it the day before) started to feel anticipatory pain. The idea of having to put my weight on the sore joint flexed at a 45 angle just made me cringe. Sad to say, I exercised caution over valor and retreated out of the cave, figurative tail between my legs. And equally sad to say, I think Dollie was kind of grateful I hurt my ankle if it meant staying out of the cave walk.

Trail shot on a hot day

So back we go and as we did so, the day warmed up considerably, making a cool cave seem inviting, even with ankle pain involved. Oh well, as we hiked back down Chalone Creek, we tried to keep cool by imagining the creek flowing with water flanked by happy ferns on the banks. It didn't work.

Let's just stay in the shade until nightfall

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

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Pinnacles National Park - High Peaks Trail.

Back when I was a Boy Scout in Watsonville (California), hiking and camping in the Pinnacles was a semi-regular staple of our outdoor fare. Of course, back then the park was "just" a national monument and I really don't remember all that much about the trails except that caves were involved. I also went rock climbing a couple of times but again, I have no idea what cliff we climbed up, only that ropes and pitons were required. In 2012, when the monument was upgraded to the lofty status of National Park, my interest in the Pinnacles was rekindled. Since the theme of this year's California vacation was all about reconnecting with old friends and family, it sort of made sense to pay a visit to the Pinnacles. Since Dollie came along, no ropes and pitons were involved in our visit to the park.

A Pinnacles pinnacle

The Pinnacles are divided into the east and west sections and for no reason at all, we first went to the western side. There were several options for hiking but since I superficially form opinions of trails by their names, "High Peaks Trail" immediately captured my heart solely on the basis of that alluring name.

What drought looks like

It hasn't rained in this part of California in something like eight years, and the more sensitive vegetation were covered in dried leaves, the dry leaves rattling in the breeze like skeleton breath. The more hardy species like ceanothus were thriving and we were glad the trail was well maintained, having saved us the trouble of wading through the thorns. The trail brochure had a picture of a mossy waterfall on a creek but water was about as elusive as a unicorn being ridden by a Sasquatch. The land was dry, dry, dry with nary a brochure-adorning waterfall to be found. Talk about false advertising!

Walking on top of the world

The Juniper Canyon Trail led away from the parking lot, gaining elevation at a gentle rate through the sere terrain. After about a half mile into the hike, the trail began switching to and fro, climbing upward in earnest. We were working our way out of the Juniper Canyon drainage and climbing up a steep slope that was garlanded with all manners of minarets, towers, thumbs, ramparts, walls, and balancing rocks. Each switchback offered a different view of all the rock structures festooning the ridge above us. After a mile or so, we took a right turn onto the High Peaks Trail, starting a loop hike around the Pinnacles crest. 

View to the parking lot

As we climbed, we also enjoyed great views of the Chalone Creek canyon and the surrounding Gabilan Mountains. On the horizon to the west were the Santa Lucias, home of the Ventana Wilderness. In between was the large Salinas Valley, full of farms producing crops for our nation's salads. When we began the hike, we peered up to a prominent collection of rocky knobs known as The Fingers, even though they looked more like thumbs; however, as we climbed, we went from craning our necks upward to The Fingers to looking down upon them. In short, the view was epic and one for the ages.

A great place for lunch!

The High Peaks Trail topped out at a mountain pass with a bench and we happily sat down and ate lunch while enjoying the view, which had even become even more epic. From our mountain aerie, we could see to the east in equal grand scope as the western view we had so far been enjoying.  We were on a narrow ridge crest that had rock pinnacles bristling formidably like the spines of an augustinia dinosaur. And coincidentally enough,  the large cluster of pinnacles are known as "The Pinnacles".  A deep and oddly straight valley paralleling our ridge crest was the rift zone of the San Andreas Fault. And just to reminisce, we could also take in the western view we had so enjoyed on the ascent. 

This would be the narrow part

The pass was kind of a meeting place for trails and we had many options for continuing our hike. But, really there was only one choice, a small and dusty trail with a sign reading "Steep and Narrow Trail". If anything, the phrase "steep and narrow trail" was even more alluring than  "high peaks trail".

Pinnacles, everywhere we look

After cresting a small rise on the ridge crest, the trail gently began losing elevation through an increasingly rocky terrain. We were walking at the base of the pinnacles and the ground dropped precipitously away from our feet as we hiked. As we contoured the massive cliffs, large scavenger birds soared on the thermals upwellling from the valley below. 

Look, it's NOT a condor!

The California condor is an endangered species whose last bastion of refuge is on Topa Topa Mountain in Ojai. In a desperate attempt to save the species, captive-bred condors were released into the Pinnacles and by all accounts, are doing quite well there. So naturally, we and several other hikers were quite excited to see these majestic birds soaring gracefully against a blue sky. Post-hike, I found out the condors have a distinctive white pattern on the underside of their wings unlike the birds we had been observing. It was a mild disappointment to find out we had been all agog over ordinary turkey vultures. 

Whee!

The trail became cliffier and cliffier and soon railings (which were needed) and handolds made an a appearance. And once we got used to holding on for dear life while the rock wall dropped 1,000 feet below us, the trail became a series of small steps etched into the rock face. Way cool, in a scary, totally exposed way. At times we had to walk hunched over (well, more hunched over than normal) under monolithic rocks. And this went on for nearly two spectacular miles. Was this a cool trail, or what!

Tunnel on the Tunnel Trail

Sadly, the mountain goat portion of this hike could not last forever, and we began dropping back down to Juniper Canyon, closing our loop on the Tunnel Trail. The trail dropped rapidly into a narrow canyon where the trail builders decided trail building was too much darn work and blasted a tunnel through an impeding ridge. 

A totally awesome trail

After the tunnel, the trail behaved a lot more ordinary as it returned us back to civilization. Unfortunately, just as the car was virtually within sight, I stepped in a gopher hole and there went the ankle and I sprawled heavily face first into the dust. Fortunately, it was just a short limp to the car with a well dusted face, that was way too much reconnecting with my past, in my opinion.

Appreciative audience

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

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Cape Arago loop

Cape Arago is a great dayhike. The trail is always spectacular, providing cliffy views of the rugged Oregon coast as the path rambles along the rather abrupt edge of Oregon. Periodically, the trail moves away from the cliffs and dips into the lush coastal forest. Given the right time of year, the woods yield plenty of wildflowers, berries, mushrooms, and newts. And no matter the season, the crash of waves upon the rocks is a constant along with the barking of sea lions. Yup, a great hike. But there is one small problem: I've hiked it a million times.

Scenic little cove, below the trail

So what is one erstwhile faded and jaded hiker to do? Why, apply an O'Neill twist to the route, just to keep from getting bored with one of the more scenic hikes on the southern Oregon coast. The latest and greatest change-up was to park the car nearly two miles shy of the customary starting point at Sunset Bay. Hopefully, I'd be able to work my way south to Sunset Bay and in the process, get a good view of the Cape Arago Lighthouse perched on Gregory Point, the point actually being an island. 

Is this a cool trail, or what?

Speaking of goats, you almost have to be one to get down to the beach from the Cape Arago Highway. Yeah, I know, we weren't speaking of goats but that's my segue and I'm sticking to it. A faint and muddy track dropped nearly vertically down to the beach but fortunately, a rope was tied to a tree for us non-goat human beings. Even though I sport no goat genes (that I know of), I still bleated happily on the way down, which either confused or bemused the seagulls.

Rock formations on the beach

Once upon the beach, well, I could hear but not see the lighthouse as a thick boa constrictor of fog strangled the life out of the sunny ocean views. Tortured metaphor aside, visibility was quite limited on the beach and the main attraction (the lighthouse) remained sleeping under the thick foggy blanket. The beach route going south was likewise hidden, so I decided to turn back. No sense hiking down the beach only to find access to Sunset Bay impassable, I'll retry this on a sunnier day where I can better judge the feasibility of the intended route.

Salal

So, back to the car I go and going up the rope was not quite as much fun as coming down, I didn't happily bleat like a goat on the way up. Still in the mood to change up the normal route though, I decided to hike from Sunset Bay to Shore Acres and then take the hidden perimeter trail that I had hiked on once before with the South Coast Striders.

Fern tongue

It had been baking hot (I often use a different adjective, also ending in "king", to better describe the run of hot weather) and it was getting to be so not-funny. It seemed inconceivable that anywhere else outside of Roseburg could be anything but a dry sauna; therefore I was clad in shorts and a tank top. Oops. At Cape Arago, the weather was cold and foggy, the air had a liquidity to it that stopped just short of being actual rain, and me without any raincoat or jacket. Oh well, the exertion of navigating the steep ups and downs of the perimeter trail would hopefully be enough to keep me warm.

Thimbleberry

The tide was well out and the ocean was quiet. There were few hikers encountered on the trail and the mist muffled sound, making for woods peaceful and still. Periodically, the trail ran alongside the Cape Arago Highway and every now and then the odd car slowly passed by, tires hissing on the wet pavement. Ripe salmonberries were there for the picking and the hike was berry nice at times. I have the orange juice stains on my lips to prove it.

Still life with foxglove and aphids

At Shore Acres State Park, I left the coast trail and crossed the Cape Arago Highway. The perimeter trail begins there but you have to know exactly where it is as the trail is unsigned and impossible to see from the road. Displaying the secret South Coast Strider sign, I pushed aside the brush and began hiking uphill on a trail surrounded by blooming rhododendron and foxglove.

Flies waiting...just waiting

A brisk climb took me to the top of the ridge that marks the park boundary and I had basically climbed into the low cloud cover, the woods were now mysteriously misty. In less mysterious fashion, the overhead skein of tree branches sifted the mist and fog, making sure to drip water on one lone hiker improperly attired in shorts and tank top. 

Went down into the ravine and then over the hill...yup

The upper section of the trail has some serious ups and downs as it dropped into and out of several ravines. I got my exercise in and kept plenty warm with the exertion. Whew! On the final pitch downwards, it was really hard to maintain traction on the muddy trail and I had more than a few impromptu ski runs. When I got home, I noticed my boot tread was totally worn, which would explain the slipping and sliding. As an aside, that particular little problem was later remedied on a mid-week excursion to REI, a true Happy Place on Earth.

The Cape Arago Trail provides great views of the coast

On the descent, the trail joined up with the old pack road leading to and from the group day use site and it was nice to not have to worry about sudden and unexpected mud-ski runs. Now at Cape Arago itself, I was back on familiar territory and it was a perfunctory hike back to Sunset Bay as the day darkened. Periodically, I'd work my way to a cliffy viewpoint to see what I could see, which wasn't much.

A bee hugs a sneezeweed flower

Even though I was wet and cold at the end of the hike, I deigned to turn on the car heater. There would be plenty of heat waiting for me in Roseburg and I gladly shivered in the wet air. It felt good to be cold, if even for just one day.

Future blackberry fruit

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

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