Colorful Day on the PCT

I'm adding one final autumn color post, because this hike was so beautiful I want to document it for future reference (yes, I'm definitely hiking here next fall!)

A sea of yellow

Due to my "injured reserve" status this summer, I missed out on hiking with many of my friends.  But in November I reconnected with hiking buddies Young and John for a trek through the Columbia River Gorge.  John wanted to take me on a section of the Washington PCT where he said the fall colors were always absolutely stunning.

Young admires the forest color

The place we hiked was a section of the Pacific Crest Trail (PCT) in Washington very close to the Columbia River.  We parked at a trailhead near Bonneville Dam and sauntered along a half-mile connector trail to rendezvous with the PCT.  I'd hiked this area many years ago, and was put off by a recent clear cut.  But now, after the passage of time, the area had rebounded into a lush second-growth forest.

Walking through the giant ferns

Usually peaking in late October, this year the fall color change was late.  Lucky for us, it extended well into November so on this day we hit it near peak.  And although Young and John claimed the leaf colors weren't as good as they'd been in the past, the huge amount of yellow foliage along this part of the PCT was still stunning.

Even the clear cut area had color

Oh yeah, the leaf color was very lovely!  Young and I traipsed through a wonderland of color, mostly yellow with a bit of orange thrown in.

Walking by Gillette Lake

After two miles of walking through thick, fern-filled second-growth, we came to a clearcut area.  Making room for huge towers supporting powerlines coming from nearby Bonneville Dam, the bare, bushy area was surprisingly colorful due to turning leaves on the  low vegetation.

Another view of Gillette Lake

We climbed over the clearcut hill and on the other side was Gillette Lake.  Although the leaf color here was rapidly turning brown, the winding trail down the lake was still a scenic journey.

Photo op on a log bridge

Although I'd hiked to Gillette Lake several times, I'd never before continued farther on the PCT.  As John led Young and I past the lake and up another rise, I felt excitement in exploring a "new to me" portion of this trail.

Big leaf maple

We passed a cute log bridge spanning a small stream, where Young an I posed for a photo op.

Vine maple

The we wandered by several big leaf maple trees, sporting their signature huge leaves.  I passed by a colorful patch of vine maple, that immediately got my camera's full attention.

Swallowed by the forest

My friends and I came to a larger creek and crossed a sturdy wooden bridge.  I paused on top to take in the gorgeous views of the creek lined with yellow and gold deciduous leaves.

Beautiful creek

By now we'd covered nearly 4 miles.  I told John my still-recovering foot could probably only handle an 8-mile round trip distance, meaning we'd need to turn around soon.  But John mentioned a nearby clearing with great views that made a perfect lunch stop.  Desiring to see this place, I sucked it up and kept on going.

View from our lunch spot

Lucky for me, John's lunch spot wasn't far beyond my 4-mile limit.  And it was worth the extra quarter mile.  Perched on the edge of a cliff, this clearing had a great view of the Columbia River and Oregon side of the gorge.

Catching my friends with food in their mouths

We all found spots on the ground and broke out our hot tea and sandwiches.  Between bites, I tried to get embarrassing photos of my friends with food in their mouths.

So. Much. Yellow.

Sitting for 15 minutes wasn't good for my foot.  After our lunch break I discovered it had stiffened up.  The rough, rocky trail had made it very angry.  And now I had 4+ miles to traverse to get back to my car.

More colorful forest 

However, the beautiful fall scenery was a good distraction from my foot issues, and once we got moving it did loosen up a tiny bit.  Back down through the lush forest we tromped, me getting out my camera at regular intervals.

Sturdy bridge crossing a creek

At the larger creek crossing, I bushwhacked down to the bank to get a photo of the bridge and the rushing water.

One more shot of the lovely scene

Back past Gillette Lake, still looking good in the afternoon sun.

Gillette Lake on the return trip

Through an alley of brilliant yellow and gold.

Alley of color

One of the things I like best about hiking with Young and John - they always end the day with a visit to the local brewery.  And they know all the best pubs.  This time they introduced me to a great place on the outskirts of Washougal, Washington.

A great day to be outside!

It was great to catch up with old friends and explore a "new" old trail in it's best season.  I'll definitely plan a revisit to this PCT section next fall.

Groundhog Day Adventure

I really wanted to do a bunch of snowshoe trips this season.  However, despite good intentions my snowshoes have only tasted the white stuff twice thus far.  It's been a weird winter - after a week of snowstorms in early January, the precip pipeline went dry for the rest of the month.  February brought a few small snow events in the mountains, but nothing with huge accumulations.

Snowshoeing is so much better with fresh snow.  Here in the Pacific NW our snow is wet, and it doesn't take much to get packed down and icy.  When conditions are like this, you might as well ditch the snowshoes, don microspikes, and turn things into a hike.  Since icy trails didn't appeal to me, my snowshoes sat idle all of January.  Until a promising forecast the first week of February caught my attention.

Near the trailhead

The mountain snow report on February 2nd looked good - promising several inches of the white stuff.  Although I'd traveled up to Mt Hood for skiing the day before and planned another ski trip for the 3rd, I couldn't pass up the rare chance to showshoe on fresh powder.  So early that morning found me in my car once again heading up the icy roads to Mt. Hood, destination Barlow Pass Trailhead.

Wilderness area sign

Barlow Pass is on the old Barlow Road, an alternative route of the Oregon Trail.  Pioneers not wishing to brave the harrowing journey rafting down the Columbia River often chose to lead their wagons over the imposing Cascade Mountains and follow this road.  Barlow Pass has the distinction of being at the crest of the Cascades, a milestone in the pioneer's travel.  In modern days, the Pacific Crest Trail (PCT) passes through here, one of several trails hikers can now explore.  (In keeping with the area's past history, there's also a path to the grave of an unknown pioneer woman)

Branches loaded with heavy snow

There were only two other vehicles at the trailhead.  A man with skis emerged from one and promptly took off down one of the trails.  Strapping on my snowshoes, I stomped through the new-fallen snow with delight.  There was a good four inches on the ground and it was light, fluffy powder.  Yeah!  Conditions couldn't have been better.

Everything is white

My plan for the day was to take the PCT southbound for about 2 miles until it intersected with the trail to Upper Twin Lake.  I'd then take this 1.5-ish mile trail to Upper Twin Lake.  A trek I'd done before, it topped out at 7.5 miles round-trip.  

Bunny tracks

Although there was already a set of ski tracks through the snow, I broke my own trail beside them.  Good backcountry etiquette dictates that snowshoers stay out of skier's tracks.  Snowshoes mess up the ski tracks which can be hazardous for cross country skiers.  (I realize that many snowshoers either don't know this or don't care because in some high use areas ski tracks are routinely obliterated by snowshoers)

Nothing to see on Tri-County Ridge

The new snow was plastered on the trunks of trees and covered their branches.  It was quite beautiful, necessitating frequent photo stops.  Besides ski tracks, the only other thing marring this lovely white carpet was a set of animal prints leading off through the forest (probably a bunny, I guessed).

Flocked trees

About a mile southbound on the PCT I'd heard of a side trail branching off that led hikers uphill to a fabulous view of Mt. Hood.  The place was either called Ghost Ridge or Tri-County Ridge, depending on which hiking website you were viewing.  Upon reaching this junction, I noticed the set of ski tracks heading uphill towards the ridge.  Should I venture up there too?  It was a foggy, overcast day so chances of any type of view were nil.  In the end, curiosity got the better of me, so I turned and went up the ridge. 

Looking out over the frozen forest

After a hard climb of nearly 3/4 of a mile I emerged into a clearing.  Heavily snow-flocked trees appeared like ghosts through the thick fog.  Every direction I looked was obscured by a curtain of white.  I'd heard on a clear day views here were stupendous, but right now there was absolutely nothing to see.  I'd huffed and puffed up here for naught. 

Finally the Twin Lakes trail!

At least the journey back downhill to the PCT was much easier.  And once reconnecting with the PCT, I commenced breaking my own trail, as the ski tracks had ended at the uphill path to the ridge.  After a very long half mile (those trail stretchers were at it again!) I finally reached the junction with the Upper Twin Lakes Trail.

Woodpeckers were busy

This new trail took me downhill through more untracked snow.  It was a joy to be able to walk wherever I wanted without worrying about messing up skier tracks.  I passed an old tree full of woodpecker holes that was interesting.  Then I made my way through a large clearing, where at another trail junction, I picked up my skier friend's tracks once again.

Bird Butte summit - high point of my trek

From here the trail switchbacked steeply uphill to the summit of Bird Butte.  At 4,560 feet this was the high point of my trek.  I paused for a photo with the sign for posterity (and also for my 2022 hiking challenge blog page).

Upper Twin Lake was socked in

It was all downhill from here to the lake.  A quick shuffle through the trees and I arrived at the snowy shore.  With the overcast skies there wasn't much to see.  But I snapped a few pics before settling down to a quick lunch break.

Lunchtime view (or lack thereof)

After lunch I donned my backpack and set out once again, retracing my path through the snow.  On the uphill to Bird Butte I met a couple of skiers coming down who thanked me for not walking in their tracks.  However, clomping my way back through the meadow to the place where I had broken a lone path through the snow, I was disappointed to see the skiers had made their tracks right through my snowshoe path.  Guess it doesn't work both ways?

Backcountry etiquette - separate tracks for skis and snowshoes

The boots I use for snowshoeing tend to rub in the heels if I do too much uphill hiking.  I know this, and usually take preventative measures beforehand to ensure blisters don't form.  But today I forgot all about doing this, and as a result, my feet reminded me of my oversight about halfway back.  Although I know very well you're supposed to stop and apply moleskin or some other bandage to prevent further damage and discomfort, I didn't want to take the time to do this.  It would've required not only removing my boots and socks, but also my snowshoes.  This would burn too much time, I reasoned.  I'm almost back, I can make it!

Snowy PCT sign

Onward I limped, reaching the PCT once again.  Only two miles to go!  But, boy were they long miles.  My heels hurt with every step, even more so when I had to plow through snow or go uphill.  But I gritted my teeth and carried on.  By now temperatures had risen to above freezing and the morning's nice fluffy powder had transformed to heavy, wet snow.  

Finally reaching the car, I gratefully pulled off my boots and discovered (surprise!) huge, tender blisters on both heels.  (That's what you get for not stopping and taking care of things.)  The man who had started skiing at the same time as I did this morning finished his journey within five minutes of me.  We chatted at our vehicles for a moment before I bid him goodbye.

The return trip seemed endless

Although this happened to be Groundhog Day, I highly doubt there were any groundhogs in the forest.  Even if there were, with the day's overcast conditions there's no way one would've seen his shadow.  As a lover of snow and cold, I'm probably the only person wishing for a sunny Groundhog Day, because I want 6 more weeks of winter.  Sadly not this year!

PCT - Santiam Pass to (almost) Three Fingered Jack

Before I launch into this latest hiking adventure, I'd like to take a moment and thank all the firefighters who worked tirelessly for the past two weeks battling the wildfires that ravaged Oregon.  Not only did these brave men and women help many people evacuate, they also fought these fires under terrible conditions (gusty winds and thick smoke).  Most of the blazes are now either under control or at least no longer posing imminent danger to populated areas.

Sooo.....jumping in where I left off in the prior post!  Continuing with my hubby and I's hiking/camping weekend in July.  (If you've forgotten, refresh your memory here.)

Gotta get the "official" sign pic!

After tackling two trails the previous day, hubby and I awoke for today's ambitious goal - hiking the Pacific Crest Trail (aka PCT) from nearby Santiam Pass northward.  According to my hiking "bible" - aka William L. Sullivan's "100 Hikes in the Central Oregon Cascades" there was a terrific view of Three Fingered Jack Mountain about 5 miles up the PCT.  One my 2020 hiking aspirations was to log 25 new miles on the PCT and this latest trek would help towards fulfilling that goal.

 

The beargrass was in great supply

After staying up late watching the sunset on Coffin Mountain, hubby and I slept in and lollygagged around camp, taking our time eating breakfast.  So even though our campsite was only 15 miles from the trailhead, we didn't arrive there until almost 9 am.  And despite having a huge lot, parking at this trailhead was already nearly full.  We managed to snag the last available spot - luckily it was big enough for hubby's truck!

Beargrass forest

 

Stepping out of the truck I was surprised by how warm it was for 9 am.  Hubby immediately switched to shorts but I decided to keep the zip-off legs on my hiking pants.  It would later prove to be a smart decision.

Hayrick and Hoodoo Buttes through the trees

The PCT northbound from Santiam Pass traveled through forest burned in a 2003 wildfire.  The ghostly gray dead trees were a somber reminder of the devastation.  However, beargrass had established itself nicely post-fire.  Cream-colored poofy blooms lined the forest floor.  Progress was slow as I tried to capture yet more stunning beargrass images. (And, no I didn't get enough photos of it from the previous day!)

 

Mountain parade - Mt Washington and the Three Sisters

Although I'm not a fan of wildfires, the lack of vegetation on trees did open up views of the nearby mountains.  As we climbed higher, a line of Cascade peaks paraded across the southern horizon.  Mt Washington was the closest, followed by the Three Sisters and Broken Top.

Looking towards Three Fingered Jack

And moving northward I got occasional glimpses of Three Fingered Jack's pointy summit.

 

Little trailside pond

 

About a mile in, we passed by a cute little pond rimmed with wildflowers.
 

A few lily pads

 I zoomed in to capture the lily pads floating on it's surface.

Happy to see new tree growth

 

Beyond the pond, our trail started to climb more steeply.  I puffed and sweated in the increasing heat.  Thankfully a strong breeze was blowing, and that made the temperatures bearable.  If not for the wind, I would've surely overheated.

 

Lots of little trees sprouting up in the burn area

 

Hubby and I passed through an area where the forest was covered with small fir trees.  It was heartening to see the forest beginning to re-establish itself after such a devastating fire.

A nice patch of lupine

Fire zones also produce great wildflowers.  We passed through many meadows flush with purple lupine and orange scarlet gilia.

Hoodoo Butte through the burned trees

 

About 3.5 miles up the PCT hubby and I came upon the top of a ridge.  Views to the east were fantastic with conical-shaped Black Butte prominently anchoring the skyline above a mixture of green forest and gray burn area.  A couple teal mountain lakes glittered like jewels below.
 

Ghost trees

 

It was here a southbound backpacker passed by and warned us that the mosquitoes were thick in the trees and in areas where the snow had recently melted.  I had a small bottle of repellent in my backpack, so figured we could always spray ourselves if things got too bad.  So we continued on.

Hiking through snow - in July!

Unfortunately, it turned out that helpful hiker was right - hubby and I no sooner entered the forested area when the mosquitoes came after us in droves!  They seemed to like hubby better than I, and he was soon regretting his switch to shorts.  Every time we stopped, even for a minute, they would swarm us landing in great numbers on our exposed skin.  I couldn't even get out my repellent fast enough - I was spraying mosquitoes as they were biting me.

Three Fingered Jack view at our turn around point

Although Deet works the best for repelling mosquitoes, it's so toxic I try to avoid using it at all costs.  So I'd purchased a small bottle of Deet-free bug spray for hikes.  But sadly that day it failed miserably.  Realizing that keeping ourselves moving was the best way to avoid these flying vampires, we marched steadily onward.  But it was past noon, and I was in dire need of some fuel.  Hubby promised we'd stop for lunch when we arrived at the Three Fingered Jack mountain viewpoint.  But we kept hiking and hiking with no viewpoint in sight.  My gps read 5.3 miles, then 5.4, 5.5.....surely we didn't miss it?  I was getting tired and hangry.  Where was that stupid mountain?

Black Butte and a couple of lakes

About a quarter mile from the viewpoint we ran into a section of trail totally covered in snow.  Gingerly hubby and I postholed through the wet, slushy stuff, trying to follow previous hiker's footsteps.  It was slow going, and to make matters worse, the mosquitoes were thickest in these melting snow areas.

Looking westward to another lake

Finally, rounding a corner there was Three Fingered Jack rising above the trail.  A fabulous view - totally worth the hot uphill climb, slogging through snow, and facing bloodthirsty mosquitoes.  But I was beyond hungry now, and insisted on taking a lunch break right there on the trail - mosquitoes be damned!

 

Lupine brightens the forest floor

 

So hubby and hastily tried to cram down some leftover meat and cheese from the previous night while fending off mosquitoes intent on making us their lunch.  It was the fastest meal break ever - after five minutes of battling those flying demons I was ready to get moving again.

Dramatic clouds

 

Bidding the mountain a fond farewell, we hurried back through the snowfield, through the mosquito-infested forest until finally taking a breather on the ridge, which thankfully seemed to be free of bugs for the moment.  Hubby pulled out the rest of our lunch and we finished refueling.

 

Nice afternoon light on the beargrass

 

From the ridge, our path back to the truck was all sweet downhill.  Good thing for me, as by now temperatures were blazing hot.  I was happy for the stiff breeze and the fact that I still had lots of water left in my hydration bladder.  Those two factors saved me from totally melting down.  Heading back downhill, we passed several folks with huge backpacks slowly climbing in the opposite direction.  I don't know how these people managed - they were obviously better suited for handling hot weather than I.

 

Beargrass everywhere!

And then we were back in the beargrass zone.  Hooray!  The afternoon light was now so fantastic on the plumes, I couldn't help adding yet more images to my memory card.

More pics of the beargrass and forest

 Not only the beargrass, but there were also some interesting clouds in the sky.

Mt Washington view down a beargrass-lined trail

 

It was a relief to finally reach the trailhead.  I pulled off my hot, dusty boots and grabbed some cold water from our cooler in the back.  And, one of the advantages of camping nearby - a very quick 15-minute drive to our campsite which meant a cold beer much sooner!

Our lovely campsite at Marion Forks

That day happened to be my hubby's birthday.  Not only did he get some tasty apres-hike birthday beers, I also brought a small pie and adorned it with a candle.  What a guy - he gave up fishing on his birthday weekend to go camping and hiking with me (through a vicious mosquito-infested trail even!)

 

Happy birthday to my hubby!

Although one of the recent wildfires burned very close to the campground where we stayed that weekend, I was happy to see it's been spared for now.  Nearby Coffin Mountain has also escaped the flames.  So there's hope I can return next summer to camp at Marion Forks and take in another sunset on Coffin Mountain.  But I think I'll wait until the snow is entirely melted before I hike this portion of the PCT again.