Journalist By Nature: July 2014

Trailhead

It was the best of days. It was the worst of days. In contrast to the run of hot days in town, this particular Thursday followed a few uncharacteristic days of rain. With indomitable spirit as recently demonstrated by our Glacier Girls' hike to Sperry Chalet, we donned rain gear and headed for Mt. Hood National Forest to hike an old favorite, Upper Salmon River trail. Old as in distantly remembered by our hiking planner, the term gained deeper meaning further into the hike. The drive to the trailhead took us on a series of Forest Service roads off Highway 26 at Trillium Lake. Many of these roads are old logging roads and have become access points to hiking trails. Wandering around without specific directions to a destination can leave travelers stranded in the forest with no cell service and dying daylight. William Sullivan's book 100 Hikes in Northwest Oregon and Southwest Washington serves us well in this regard with his excellent maps and succinct instructions.

Arriving at the twin trailheads of Salmon River and Jackpot Meadow we discussed the last hike taken on this trail and its discouraging amount of downed trees crossing the path which put an early end to the hike. Surely, after ten years, the trail would be cleared. So went the logic. The understory hugged the trail edges, soaking shoulders and legs with remnants of the heavy rain that had fallen. But the trail bed was clear and soft, padded with years of falling plant debris. Descending 1200 feet towards the river basin and crossing the river on a soggy log foot bridge, we made our way to a trail intersection. The Dry Lake trail and its connecting Fir Tree trail were remembered as a splendid and delightful section of the hike. They join to loop with the Upper Salmon River trail for a 6+ mile trek.

Oregon grape berries turning blue

The rich, heavy understory tapestry of the forest botany was brimming with young rhododendrons, tiny pink monkey flowers, carpets of Oregon grape, huckleberries, bracken, and beargrass. The rain gave a fresh, damp smell to the air and kept the temperature in the low 60's. Water droplets clung to the vine maple leaves like tiny diamonds sparkling in the daylight. The birds were mostly quiet while a faint rushing water sound mingled with the whispering breeze in the treetops.

Disappearing trail

Not far into this branch we began to question our decision. Perhaps it had been more like 15 or 20 years since some had hiked this route. The trail began to narrow due to the encroaching plants. The surface was noticeably not compacted by any recent foot traffic. Lush new rhododendron growth, supple and snappy, slapped each succeeding hiker as we began to fight our way through the understory. Beautiful in bright green color yet annoying in its density and slippery underfoot, the rhodie foliage made for slow progress and time to further consider our choice of trails. We began to refer to this disappearing trail as a mere animal trail and started hanging trail tape to mark our way should we decide to reverse course. As the trail descended further, we had to clamber over and under assortments of downed trees, boulders and general undergrowth. We were definitely breaking trail at this point. Some voted to return to the main path while others voted to keep going on this faint version.

A pause for refreshments

We encouraged our "Tonto" point woman to move ahead at times to scout the terrain for solid evidence of a trail. She would call back to us "it's better here!" and we could continue our trusting trek another hundred yards. Scout. Repeat. After two hours of this adventure we decided to pause for refreshment and consider our circumstance. One hiker climbed up the side of a nearby hill and sighted a creek running parallel to our "path". Partially based on this we decided to continue our journey, convinced that we would eventually converge with the main trail. Another hiker still had a GPS connection and kept track of our mileage, noting that it reasonably compared to the hike's description.

Encountering remnants of a campfire of undetermined age, we renewed our expectation that we were going to make it to the main trail. Trudging onward, crossing creeks on slippery rocks and branches, carefully advancing over sections of scree, stomping out a rudimentary trail through bracken, tripping on the arching clumps of beargrass we finally heard the hail of "Tonto" calling that we had made it! A cheer went up from the group of seven behind her as we said a silent thanks for our safety.

Once back on the wide, well-trodden main trail we split into two groups, one waiting while the other took a short side trip to a view point which turned out to be a mere look at a small waterfall of little note. Suddenly a large group of hikers appeared along the trail, inquiring about the Dry Lake loop trail. We vigorously encouraged them to skip it and stay on the main trail. They were happy to take our advice. The final 2.6 mile exit to our cars gained back that 1200 foot elevation drop from the beginning of the hike. It seemed to be an endless trek with no views, no signage, no campsites, no fauna other than the occasional animal skat (pictures for those interested in such things) and a brief discussion as to which animal left it. Step by step we slowly made our way out of the river canyon to our vehicles and the relief they provided. Changing into dry clothes we took off for civilization and hot coffee at Govvy.

Tired hikers

Reveling in our woodswomen adventure, we were happy for the challenge and satisfied that we had met it successfully and safely. Without views or significant attractions other than a trek through a forest, I would not recommend this hike when there are so many others with a better check list of rewards. As we arrived back at the highway we noticed an expansive movie location setup in the snow park area. The bevy of trailers, motor homes, caterers and assorted other vehicles and personnel gave rise to speculation that the TV series Grimm might be filming on location. This stems from another encounter we had with the movie set at the Union Station in Portland. Too tired to stop and inquire, we left with our speculations unverified. Another day, another great hike. What adventures are you considering?

Soggy foot bridge

Fateful decision point

Debate

Early obstacle

Vine maple with "diamonds"

Slippery creek crossing

Cairn and rotting sign

Early fall color beginning

Campfire remains

Wading through understory

Back on the main trail

Mossy, rotting foot bridge

Skunk cabbage in boggy area

Quiet stream under bridge

Film crew gathering

Small waterfall of little note. C. Blunt

Natural cairn with moon

If you're going to make the effort it should be on a clear day. Such was my motivation as I planned a solo summit attempt on Saddle Mountain, just 12 miles east of Highway 101 on Highway 26. After a round of extra hot days in the valley, a cool albeit strenuous hike in the Coastal Range held a certain allure. With a large contingent of my regular hiking group elsewhere, this was my chance to take a purposefully slow day of photographing wild flowers and enjoying the sweeping forest vistas.

Conifer corridor

Rising with the sun I loaded my car and headed west. There was little traffic at this hour so I had the road to myself and all the enjoyment of a moderate pace with windows open to the cool morning air. The road is a familiar one, having traveled it my entire life, first as a little child on family trips, then as an independent youngster with friends and now making the trip to see friends or just to get away for the day. Over the years the forest has been logged, storm damaged, replanted and now provides a high walled conifer corridor along the edges of Clatsop and Tillamook State Forests. Heavily laden logging trucks make an occasional appearance from the woods, hauling out their load of trees bound for a sawmill.

WPA water fountain

Near mile post 30 lie two water fountains, the result of a 1936 Works Progress Administration (WPA) jobs effort to employ men during the Depression years. The telltale large stonework is a hallmark of that era's projects, seen in the likes of Timberline Lodge, bridgework at the Vista House in the Columbia Gorge and at Powell Butte in Portland. These two water fountains are plumbed directly from an underground spring that seeps through layers of gravel to become naturally purified water, a rarity these days. People come from as far as Hood River to bottle up the water for personal use. A gentleman from the Jewell area was filling his weekly five gallon water jug when I stopped and he offered a bit of advice to the casual user. The fountain on the north side of the highway has a fence around it, the result of trying to keep people from leaving their "output" after taking some input from the fountain. Sadly, the senseless culprits continue to climb the fence and do their business right above the fountain. This local resident strongly advised me to use only the south side fountain as it has escaped this foul behavior by travelers. Good to know!

Ancient stump

Passing the famous Camp 18 museum and restaurant complex, the turnoff to Saddle Mountain takes its departure to the right and meanders 7 miles through the forest to the trailhead. The road is paved, although potholed at the beginning, and is very narrow and curvy. Fight the urge to take it fast as approaching cars cannot be seen at the curves. Signs of an ancient forest long ago logged hide among the stands of secondary growth of Douglas fir and hemlock, with sprinklings of mottled bark Alder and other species. Moss-encrusted mature trees, protected by the State Park ownership, continue to grow their way to ancient status, free from the threat of being logged. Some have reached a diameter of over 5 feet. Early morning low clouds settled in among the tree tops, briefly suggesting that my trip would be for naught as to views. But as is the way near the coast, the rising sun tends to melt the cloud cover and provide a perfect blue sky day.

There are ten campsites at the trailhead as well as a picnic area with tables and a newish set of

Trailhead

restrooms with flush toilets. The trail begins with a crumbling blacktop pathway to the campsites, innocently seducing the unprepared hiker onto its sturdy surface. As I walk by, sounds of awakening campers come muffled through the undergrowth. Just above the campsites, where an old water tower stands, the trail transitions to a moist fir needle padded surface, tall trailside plants crowding the edges of the route and masking the steepness of it. The cool, damp smell of the forest, the early morning chirping in the forest aviary and the slanting sunlight silently streaming through the trees invigorate the hiker to keep going despite the climb.

First vista

The challenge of an elevation gain of 1600 feet over 2.5 miles has yet to fully manifest itself. A profusion of wildflowers is one distraction on this hike. Tucked in between ferns and oxalis, into rock crevices, flowing down a hillside, flowers and berries brighten and fascinate the curious and alert hiker. A wild rabbit, strangely unafraid of me, made a lingering appearance on the trail, calmly nibbling grass, ears alert to danger. As the trail reached the half mile mark, an unexpected sight appeared: a picnic table perched at a viewpoint. Surely this is the work of a hardy fraternity group, out to demonstrate their strength by carrying a whole table up a slender, plant-crowded trail. Would Forest Service trail maintainers have time for this? But two more, successively higher, picnic tables appear, so it's a mystery as to who and how. The why is certainly the vistas, now more prominent through the trees, providing resting excuses to the huffing and puffing hiker.

Red columbine

The geology of this area is highly compressed gravel and soil known as volcanic breccia. As weather erodes the soil it washes away and the gravel rolls downhill. This makes the trail a moving surface as pebbles roll under foot, creating a very unstable terrain. Mixed with exposed tree roots, always enlarging, and heavy foot traffic, a solution was to install a special wire mesh over these unstable surfaces, and in places add gravel underneath to smooth it. This labor intensive process has slowed down the erosion and kept the trail reliable. The slope of the trail makes the Cleetwood Cove 11% grade trail at Crater Lake seems like a level stroll through the woods. In places, the Saddle Mountain trail approaches 30 to 40% grade, in my estimation. That's slow but steady stepping! The wire trail cover offers a good grip if you are wearing hiking shoes or boots. Anything less soled is unwise. A pair of trekking poles is also very helpful, especially on the downhill portion.

Up, up, up!

At the turn of each switchback, of which there are many, the view of the landscape stretches farther towards the horizon, green hills undulating in repetition as far as the eye can see. The trail is cool and shaded in portions, hot with sun exposure on rock walls in other areas and always tilted upward. At the middle of the hike the saddle formation tilts radically downwards, necessitating the use of installed wire hand rails for balance. A couple of old stairways, one in use and the other abandoned, assist at the most precipitous declines. Upon reaching the bottom of this formation, the trail immediately angles upward on the sharpest ascent, wire footing on nearly all of the remaining trail. Up the back of the towering basalt hill the trail has shifted with erosion and wear so that a new route has developed, thanks to the labor of Forest Service workers. Actual pipe hand rails give a firm handhold at the final few yards, helping to propel hikers onto the former fire lookout station platform.

One view from the summit

Arrivals at the summit vary in their responses to the 360 degree view of the northwest corner of the Oregon Coastal range from its highest peak. Some come for a few minutes of glancing around and leave. Some bring dogs, stay a little longer but they, too, leave quickly. Still others bring their kids and a picnic lunch and stay to take in the panorama and snap a few memorable pictures. One couple, packing in a two year old as well as a nursing infant said they make the hike just to stay in shape. A few more mature hikers are making their regular trek to a favorite spot. As for me, I slowly take in the amazing expanse of scenery spread out at my feet. The white shores of the coast lie to the west, stretching from Seaside to Astoria. Breakers can be seen as a slim gleaming line at the edge of green. Turning north, the topography shows where the Columbia River makes its way between Oregon and Washington, eventually emptying into the Pacific Ocean at Astoria. Following the east-west flow of the river, my eye catches the snow-covered peaks of Mt. Rainier, Mt. St. Helens and Mt. Adams in Washington. Mt Hood looms faintly to the south and on a particularly clear day you can see all the way to the peaks of Central Oregon.

View towards peaks

Standing on this flat top of Saddle Mountain is like being on a living topographical map. My fingers are too short to trace the contours of this map. Millions of acres of timber stand undisturbed by trails, roads or any evidence of human contact. Lewis and Clark remarked on this mountain during their journey here in 1805 but a trail to it was not established until the 1930's. Today the annual visitor count is over 70,000. Hence, the wire meshed trail.

After a strenuous effort to reach the summit of Saddle Mountain it is difficult to begin the return trip. If by magic or sherpa I could haul camping gear up I would spend the night counting stars and watching the lights of civilization twinkle out, feel the cool evening breezes pick up as the sun sets over the ocean and listen for the call of wild animals in the forest far below. Snap! Back to reality, I finish my lunch, take more pictures and grip the handrail to start my descent. Somehow the downhill version of the trail seems much steeper now, as if riding a roller coaster on its scariest plunging section. The wildflower covered slopes keep distracting me so that I stumble at times and need to refocus on my steps. Pausing for yet more pictures, which was a major part of the reason for this hike, I try new camera settings in an attempt to find the perfect composition. Like trying to capture the perfect blue of Crater Lake, this assignment is also impossible. Nonetheless I persevere.

Paintbrush

The hiking crowd, virtually nil earlier this morning, has escalated to dozens of anxious and sweaty climbers, some unaware of the labor ahead of them as they ask "does this trail keep going up?" I just smile and answer in the affirmative. They'll find out soon enough. Pacing myself I linger over more flowers and scenes, ever-changing as the sun arcs across the sky. 160 photographs later I reach my hot car, strip off my finger socks which have so far kept the blisters away, and take a long drink of water stored for just such a time. I revel in a sense of accomplishment and of the astonishingly beautiful region I have access to. As I slowly drive out of the forest the purple spires of digitalis/foxglove lining the road wave in a silent salute to a hike well done.