Journalist By Nature: Solo in the Saddle

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.