Monday, August 25, 2008

PCT 23 - Hiking the Diamond Forests of Washington

PCT 23 - Hiking the Diamond Forests of Washington

Four mountains survey the lands of Southern Washington, like sleeping giants. Wy'est (Hood) to the south, Loowit (St Helens) and Klickitat (Adams) making up the east west axis, and mighty Tahoma (Rainier) to the north like an anchor. Between these temples form a Diamond which the trail crosses, holding a deep forest and berry fields atop old Lava flows. Here a person is greeted with every shade of green imaginable. Stands of Old Growth Douglas Firs with their armor plated trunks reaching far into the sky. Here huckleberries cover ever bit of open ground, rolling through the undergrowth beneith lumbering giants. While the rain showers down with an echoing hush, captured by the oval leaves so small. A jewel unmistakably Washington, embodies these Diamond Forest beneith the mountains shadows.

There are many things that make the land north of the Columbia special, but it is the forests that captures the hikers attention when you first come here. Grand conifers vault sky-ward, almost reaching to connect heaven and earth with their green baughs. Cedars curve around rock and slope, tying themselves around old nurse logs with roots like delicate fingers weaving the earth. Hemlocks, row after row seem to stand at attention upon the hillslopes, dawning their white and grey coats against the constrasting green forest floor. And mighty Douglas, Psuedotsuga menzezii, with its towering height and thick bark, to anounce to all, its might and stature here in the evergreen forests.

The forest is alive with much more here. Shafts of light from the sky between rains lead the eyes lower to the Sea of Green that make up the land below these giants. Ferns with their outreaching fronds, give a sense of the ancient, here long before much else. These are the relatives of those upstarts that brought forests to life back in the Carboniferous Period, 300 million years ago. Then a mirid of flowering plants give highlights to this forest. Vannila leaf, with three leaves
appearing like the first few moments of a bird taking flight. Salal, bringing a shine to the remains of old stumps and logs. Each blue vase-like berry in a row almost to hearld the ringing of the bells on the final day. And last the variety of blue and huckleberries, who's array of small leaves and berries seem to reach up to the bear-like hiker who ambles along.

These forest inhabit animals that seem to walk like a spirits whisper behind the dense trunks and vinemaple. A mystery to those who first arrive from the southern forests, till their unearthly buggle echoes through these halls. With the tramp of brush and a sudden crack of branches, they are gone. Only a strike of brown a white in the far distances remains. There is the clatter of the Douglas squirel, offended at your presence. Making a ruckus of his territory while bumbarding a hiker with the remains of cones he had aleady pillaged for treasure. A few fox and coyot leave only tracks as marks of passage. And the sonnerous Kha of the black Raven, eyes of this woodland domain resounds from above. To the first people he was the mischievous spirit who brought salmon and fire to them. Wise, powerful, and dangerous.

These woods are alive, unlike any other we have crossed. They seem to demand your attention with their presents, even the rain mists brings your senses closer to you. And yet like many others, you understand how threatened these are. For outside the reach of the trail's protection, the land is shaved, and denuded of its aweinspiring power. These forests are special places indeed. One that has haunted my memories and desire since leaving Campo four months ago. They are home to part of ourselves, to a place that the great bear still roam. But with unwatched eyes, they are lost, and forgotten. Yet to the hiker who walks through them, they weave a spell of sense and image that can never be forgotten. For a man returning home, they remind one of no greater lesson. The land is alive, part of you, and above all should be respected...

From the backcountry mile
Ridgewalker
山武士
Http://ridgewalkernw.blogspot.com

Tuesday, August 19, 2008

PCT 22 - Last Giants and a River

PCT 22 - Last Giants and a River

The meadows of Jefferson on the north side are one of a small taste of things to come. The change of these mountains, with growing vails of white glaciers along their ascending rise towards the heavens, seem to become greater as we pass the 45th N Latitude. Jefferson reaches up towards the sky with a sharp point, looking over the Deschutes and Metolious. With a great garden along the northern wall.

Drawn north over the snows of Park Butte we make our first 32 mile day. Waking the distance between the mountains to the base of Wy'est. Through gentle forests of blueberries and pines. Ravens follow us along the trail through Warm Springs lands. At the end of the day, Clackamas River and a view of the last of the Cascade giants of Oregon, Wy'est (Hood).

The rumble of thunder through the night and morning, begin to cool the forests that surrounded the last of Oregon's mountains. Wy'est covers itself in a cloak of mist. The following evening lightning takes the sky, and thunder trembles the forest. Wind begins to whip through the Old Douglas stands, and soon we find ourselves along the banks of the Columbia.

Wy'est kept us from her meadows. But the mist along the great gorge towards the Pacific, tell of one more state to go. The storm passes on and thoughts of the Goat Rocks, Klickitat, Tahoma, Da'Kooba and Komo Klashan, meet us here at the rivers edge. Oregon has been beautiful, but the deep forests of Washington lay beyond the rivers edge with promise. Tommorrow we'll begin the last 500 miles. I look forward to the long High Cascades ridgeline. Hopefully the end of summer finds us well.

From the backcountry mile
Ridgewalker
山武士
Http://ridgewalkernw.blogspot.com

PCT 21 - Central Oregon

PCT 21 - Central Oregon

The Sisters caught me by suprise rising out of the 4 days of long forest of lake after pond after lake. With a first view of the red and white cap of South Sisters through a break in the green of trees, it was like a hint of things to come. Out of Elk Lake five mountains stand sentential watch over the divide in the cascades, the three sisters, broken top & mount bachelor. Surrounded by remains of recent lava flow, ground broken and black, obsidian, rhyolite, basalt and pumice stand as a mosaic of the mountains upon the lower slope plains.

South Sisters is the first of these glaciated jewels a hiker looks upon coming to their domain. Glaciers draw her cone down, etching through the red cinders to grey ash that lies below. The alternation looks as thought great braids of a fierce redheaded woman, with subtle line highlight the dawn of her middle age. Atop her summit sits a pool to reflect the face of heaven in translucent shades of blue. Held only to those who caught by her spell climb along her elegant ridgelines.

From behind south sisters, stands a younger cone of a mountain. Evidence of age stands in the smooth lines descending down her flanks. Darker tint to the rock gives the fine ones almost a perfection feel like Fujiyama from the westside. As the sun begins to set, the colors of the fading light playout along the fingers of snowfields descending from atop the mountains 10'000 ft high upper reach.

The last of the sisters stands to the north. The eldest bound in roots to the youngest, the etched interior rock of the mountains magma heart stands exposed like many to the sky by thousands of years of glacier ice that carved away the outershell. Black rock flows surround the base of this mountain. From giant vents and craters that we walk around in long arcs. For one of these craters we ascend into its heart, like the black gate of Mordor, it holds us at bay only welcoming us along fine lines of a trail that works its way throughthe jumble. Indeed, the twin fingers of the oldest sister, looks north towards the broad solder of Washington, just beyond McKenzie's saddle. And one white glacier streams down a cirque that long eroded away.

The mountains of this area, seems to demand more time of me , begging for deeper research. To round their base in a grand arc and to explore the sanctuary between, middle and south, I will have to return for another trip. But with Jefferson and Washington on the horizon, as always my way leads north.


From the backcountry mile
Ridgewalker
山武士
Http://ridgewalkernw.blogspot.com

Tuesday, August 12, 2008

PCT 20 - Sentinals of a Silvan Legacy

PCT 20 - Sentinels of a Silvan Legacy

They stand like a long forgotten army in an old battlefields. Silver spires, row upon row, reaching up to the bright blue sky. Branches stretch out and roots like legs frozen, at the place of their final stand, holding back the tide of flames, that raced by. These are the remains of an old green forest, similar to the one we walked through just that morning. Yet now after a 2006 fire the stand as silver silowets to what the once were, as beautiful and proud in death that they were in life.

My imagination is fueled by the lore of Tolkien, and his great Sheppard's of the trees, the Ents. The forest we had walked through was a great stand of Hemlock tall, dark and green. From the arms of each tree hung the striking green of Mathuselas Beard, giving these trees an ancient look, of wise kings of a previous age, now resting along the Willamette slopes. The forest teams with spirits of the living, brings comfort to the lone travellers, like Hobbits a long way from the Shire.

The wind seems to howl like a lone bagpipe up on the hills. At places large old growth stumps stand chard and worn. Around them ashes an scorch marks radiate out in a grand arc, as though an Ent battled a great spirit of the fire as it charged forward. Defiant to the end. The ground is covered with blueberry and huckleberry shrumb, bringing fruit and life back to this desolate landscape. A sign of rebirth to this Memories of Trees.

When most people think of a trip into the wilderness they think of places of lush environments. But at the same time it is inspiring to walk through the otherside and feel the power of the forest remaining after the forest green is long faded away. It brings a calm wonder to out own cycle of life. I nod my hat to these powerful giants, and walk further down the trail.

From the backcountry mile
Ridgewalker
山武士
Http://ridgewalkernw.blogspot.com

Thursday, August 7, 2008

PCT 19 - North Umpqua Trail

PCT 19 - North Umpqua Trail

It seems that some of the best places moments are found when the are unplanned. This last week was much like this old saying. After spending a night with many hikers that we had not seen in a long while at Mazama Camp in Crater Lake, Line and I headed out to the Rim Trail.

Lingering later the we thought we ended up camping right on the Edge of the Caldera in a crop of mountain hemlock. We could tell that we were not the first to camp there, but the site was pretty hidden. As the day faded, the sun played out its magic in slow motion across the layers of smoke from the California fires still to the south. It was one of those moments that passes by as you look around at the Caldera Rim aglow with that light from above. I have been reading "Cosmos" by Sagan lately. He talks about the beauty of nature and the sky above. That taking the time to understand the larger realm helps us appreciate how wondrous it really is.

The next day we finished the rim walk and began the hot dry segment through the northern end of the park. They call it an Oregon Desert, a place were pumice or lava beds hide the creeks and only stands of small Lodgepole pines remain.

By Theilson we were almost burnt out. So a sudden detour found us at Umpqua Hotsprings a few hours latter. The change in ecology was like night and day. We sat back relaxing above the rushing waters of the Umpqua River below. Layers of green surounded us with every shade
playing out in the baughs and lichen hanging over the hotsprings pools. Sometimes you need a break from walking, and this was a great one. At the evenings end with a few fruits to eat and some beers to drink from a friendly local, we were rejuvinated.

Now we could hitch back to where we left the trail, that would leave us a day behind. Then we saw a trail sign that showed a whole network of segments leading back to the headwaters of the Umpqua and junction with the Pacific Crest. The first segment was 13 miles and titled "Dread and Terror". Who names a trail that? Our minds had been made up we would walk the trail back.

The Dread and Terror Segment was far from that. Instead it was one of the richest waterfall trail I have seen since Eagle Creek. Water sprang out of the basaltic rocks flowing down between moss and tilted columns. It seemed every corner was ablaze with white from rapids amount the light green of firs new growth. It colminated with a high cascade of Lemolo Falls over a Basalt flow. All of this as if descending an Olympic old growth grove. Far from Dread and Terror!

The next day we found the trail again. Following the meanderings of a river through large meadows, we were meet by the mists of new rain, that would later give way to ground trembling thunderstorms that have persisted since.

The North Umpqua River Trail is 80 miles total, we hiked 25 of those miles. Some fall it would be worth it to hike the full length. But for now Canada calls. And many more miles yet to go before we rest again. So it will go on that ever growing list of hikes for someday.


From the backcountry mile
Ridgewalker
山武士
Http://ridgewalkernw.blogspot.com

PCT 18 - All Along the Watchtowers

PCT 18 - All Along the Watchtowers

A line of mountains presides over the Oregon Cascades. Standing high above the green river valleys to the west and the high lava plateau to the east, the are the watchtowers of a long ago volcanic age. To walk the trail through this land is to follow these peak like beacons leading a man north along the Cascades towards Canada.

Rising above the small crest between the Rogue-Kalamth divide, stand Pilot Rock. The basalt columns that line its side complete with chartreuse lichen staining the rock, stands as an old reminder of days before. Erosion around the column expose the conduit form the bowels of Hades. A name such as "Kels Anvil, where Thors mighty hammer was awakened!" would seem more approrieate. But with a cover of Douglas Fir, sleeping it remains just within sight of Ashland Valley. Yet to the north from its ridgeline the next of the watchtowers stands just a day long walk away.

The next in the chain of volcanoes along the trail is McLoughlin. This conical mountain temps the climber with her elegant lines leading down into the sea of green surrounding the base. We began our ascent at 2 pm, and within the first mile the trail began to be steep. More of a boot-beaten scramble then trail, it kept both hands reaching about for the next rock all the way up. The mountain is by-no-means hard to climb. Yet for this watchtower, her treat is to look in the hidden rock towers of the northern slope. They look to stand over a wide rubble field of the last flow.

The forest seas continue up through the Sky Lakes Wilderness. Every now and then we climb an old cinder cone or volcanic vent with names like Lucifer, Devils Plug and the Crucible. Yet we are always aware that Mazama was king here as we climb nearer to the caldera rim. Pumice and lava are the forest floor. And the rugged lightning rod that is Thielson stand in the distance beyond the spires of Hilman, Scott and Watchman along Crater Lake. These are just the southern watchtowers of Oregon with many more to come.


From the backcountry mile
Ridgewalker
山武士
Http://ridgewalkernw.blogspot.com