Journalist By Nature: September 2016

Details

Not every adventure is in the woods or on the road or has a destination as its goal. It can be the little details that make the journey interesting and the unexpected that make it memorable. Such was the hike to Trapper Creek Wilderness, a network of trails out of Carson, Washington in the Gifford Pinchot National Forest. With many trails to choose from, we decided to follow the lower trail along Trapper Creek this time. It is a trail with no particular destination or view but a very pleasant march through stands of second growth evergreens mingling with remnants of an earlier era of logging. On this low traffic trail we met only one other hiker and her dog so we were free to walk quietly on the needle-padded trail and take in the smell of cool fresh air, clean from a recent downpour and lightly scented with a whiff of sweet cedar.

There was little undergrowth to carpet the forest floor so downed logs

False Solomon's seal berries

sprouting new seedlings, fan-shaped ferns and various mosses were the visual interest. Bunchberry plants looking like upside down parasols offered their green covering in places and the occasional tiarella or foamflower daintily held tiny white flower stalks high above its pale green leaves. A false Solomon's seal sporting a huge bunch of bright red berries and the plentiful Oregon grape with its deep blue berries were the seasonal colors of this hike. Inky blue-black salal berries were drying in place, overlooked by the creatures of this place.

Wispy moss

The bark of the various evergreens and deciduous trees was
intriguing as each has a unique texture and form, Douglas firs with their gnarly bark and soldier-straight trunks, cedar with its shaggy bark, alder splotched grey and white and hemlock twisting in place, boughs sweeping downward in wing-like form. A collection of different mosses coated the lower trunk of a centenarian fir, giving a Rip Van Winkle-like appearance of bearded age to this elder. Splitting the party, some hikers lunched at fallen logs with time to inspect our surroundings in greater detail and engage in lengthy conversation while others forged ahead in search of a previous hike's distant signage, taking it as a mark of accomplishment for the day. Sighing breezes passing through the timber's arms high overhead, twitting and calling birds racing through the maze of branches and sounds of woodsy things falling gently to the earth set the scene for contemplative thoughts while we waited for our exploring companions to return.

Refreshed from our time in the quiet forest we headed for the reward of this excursion: Carson Hot Springs mineral baths and public soaking pools to take the waters. Discovered in 1876 by Isadore St. Martin while on a hunting expedition and subsequently used by his ailing wife to relieve her neuralgia pain, this became one of several hot springs developed for commercial use in the Columbia River Gorge. Touring the oldest of the facilities was like stepping back in time: rows of cast iron bathtubs encircled with privacy curtains and a room of iron frame beds where patrons lay in towel-wrapped repose, succumbing completely to the pleasures of a hot mineral soak followed by a deep tissue massage.

We, on the other hand and due to time constraints, chose to don bathing suits and slip into the 104 degree modern pool where surrounding picture windows channeled the late afternoon sunlight into the blue-tiled tank vaguely reminiscent of the elaborately decorated Hearst Castle indoor pool. Relinquishing ourselves to the heat of the soak, conversation gradually fell away as we each found a pool jet to soothe individual aches.

A smaller pool adjoining the hot one supplied 65 degree water for a bracing, breath-stealing plunge to the brave. Thankful for the shallow steps, I first planted my soles in two inches of what felt like icy water. Gripping the hand rail I continued descending into the chill, considering backing out by mentally arguing with myself along the lines of "what are you doing here?" and "you won't know what you missed if you don't try it". Having rolled in a snow bank right outside a sauna in my earlier years of adventure I knew this would be momentarily unpleasant yet not necessarily fatal. I boldly clenched the hand rail as I would a life preserver tossed to a drowning swimmer and purposed to submerge completely.

That first moment or two or three of sudden temperature change did indeed cause me to gasp and suspend my breathing. Gulping air I continued to hold myself in the frigid water, noticing a slight acclimation beginning to occur as more regular breathing returned. Releasing the handrail I floated freely albeit somewhat stiffly until a pleasantness began to wash over me. Enlivened out of my hot spring stupor I began to thoroughly enjoy this chilling experience. It could be a delightful daily occurrence were the facilities in my backyard. Seeing my friends begin to gradually leave the hot pool I lingered as long as was socially acceptable and reluctantly departed to dress for the next stop on our agenda.

Hiking and soaking and plunging naturally heighten the appetite so we headed for the local Backwoods Brewery and pizza pub to fortify ourselves for the rush hour traffic-cross town drive home. Deliciously amazing and creative would be the first descriptive words about this restaurant's salads, pizzas and sandwiches. Set behind a storefront near the rim of the Gorge and amid the golden and red autumn leaves of ash and maples, an upward rolling garage door opens to allow inside or outside dining. Merry fresh-faced servers happily supply menu information and speedy service to hungry patrons. What better way to cap a day in the woods and hot tubs than to enjoy freshly made food with the locals. It was a fitting ending to a journey through ancient woods and a hundred year old health establishment to a modern eatery, all in a shared experience with friends. Make a date with Carson Hot Springs and see what taking the waters can do for you!

Goal!

Hiker chick on the trail

Today's adventurers

Steel meets Tripp

Soft path in the woods

Add caption

Tiny world of mosses

Oregon grape

Crossing a creek

Hemlock captures sunlight

Different barks

colorful fungus

Bunchberry leaves

This day!

Human scale to ancient tree

A selection of mosses on a tree trunk

A standing tree gathers moss

Ghost trunks

The tiny world of mosses

Lying where it fell

Salal overtakes a stump

Dried salal berries

Bark detail

Roots on the trail

Caught between

Douglas fir bark

Resting in towel wraps

Original soaking tubs

Clean but mineralized

Hotel St. Martin entry

Early spa camp

Modern soaking pool at 104 degrees

The Gorge in autumn light

Pensive hiker at the destination

Outdoor enthusiasts swarm the flanks of Mt. Hood in all seasons, but especially during the snowless months when rocky promontories and icy lakes are accessible. The particular volcanic-formed topography of the area with its layered lava flows and successive erosions has produced protected bowl-shaped places for glacier, snow and rain waters to collect and form jewell-like lakes amid towering evergreens and colorful deciduous understories. Mirror Lake is one such body of water.

Located a relatively short hike right off Oregon Highway 26 near Government Camp on the south side of the mountain, Mirror Lake is an extremely popular destination for stop-and-see tourists as well as dedicated hikers intent on summiting Tom, Dick and Harry plateau. The loud and pounding construction work that is widening this part of the highway and the flying debris caught in the downdraft of the mountain hurry visitors across the wooden bridge at the trailhead parking strip. The little bubbling creek underneath the bridge can explode with spring's runoff to provide a clamorous whitewater roar of melted snow anxious to meet the ocean over one hundred miles to the west.

The steady upward angle of the trail moves hikers away from the unnatural noises of mechanical activity and into the quiet of the forest where birds provide music harmonizing with the winds whispering through the stands of evergreens. This time the trail was damp and not dusty, rocks peeking out from the forest floor tamped down by millions of human footsteps. Rhododendrons, long past their bloom, were showing a few yellowed leaves that will drop with this year's freeze. Morning sunlight slanted through the vertical trunks of Douglas fir and Hemlock, casting hazy shadows on the landscape. With an elevation gain of only 700 feet, the trek to the lake is family friendly, many of who are accompanied by man's best friend.

Breaking out of the woods to the lakeside, the mirroring effect is not immediately seen. A level walk around the lake's perimeter soon reveals the source of its name. There in splendid technicolor lies an upside down Mt. Hood, floating in the glimmering surface of the lake, a perfect reflection of the original. The occasional breeze rippling the waters causes the image to shimmer and blur. This basin of captured liquid is rimmed in the fall with flaming red vine maples and golden yellow alder. An occasional blue penstemon and purple Michaelmas daisy provide the only other color spots. Before the spring melt and if the trail is more or less visible, the lake is a frozen disc of grey-white softness.

High in a conifer, top-heavy with newly formed but unopened cones, sits a lone falcon, eyes sharp and searching for a lunch tidbit. As we point our cameras toward it, wings stretch outward and it is gone into the blue. Memories of a cougar paw print from last winter's hike remain fresh in our collective memory and we keep our ears tuned to sounds from the underbrush. The familiar splash of a swimmer passes into our hearing but without the high-pitched scream that comes when the water is colder.

Part of our crew decides to head for the Tom, Dick and Harry summit while others, more protective of aging knees, prefer to lounge by the lake in the finals hours of the late summer sunshine. Other hikers pass through, some searching for trails, others wandering around the lake, but all taking in the reflection of the snow-mantled peak in the blue water. Returning several hours later, our tougher companions verified the steepness and rockiness of the climb to the top. The view from there is truly magnificent, looking directly down on the now tiny lake, a mere dot in an ocean of green, and across the green mat to Government Camp and finally face-to-face with the huge grey shoulders and snowy head of Mt. Hood. It is a view worthy of the trek to the top.

Lunch by the shore, a snooze on a silvered log half submerged in the lake and a photo op stroll complete the day before we return to the noisy bustle of mountain traffic and construction. There are a number of such locations in the Mt. Hood National Forest waiting patiently for your arrival. There's still time to hit the trails before the weather closes in and the holidays overtake us. Here's a place to start your search. Yes, you have over one thousand miles of trails to choose from. Get trekking!