Hiking the Koosah-Sahalie Falls Loop Trail

Sahalie Falls

August 12, 2023

A hike through tall trees along a roaring river and with not one, but two, major waterfalls. What’s not to like? A few days ago, my husband and I parked our little trailer at Ollalie Campground along Oregon’s McKenzie River, ready for some outdoor time. The campground itself is set among tall fir trees with the rushing sounds of both the McKenzie River and Ollalie Creek for background music. We couldn’t get a site on the lower loop, right along the river, but the upper loop is still nice and has roomy sites (but no water—that is only available via a hand pump on the lower loop). A peaceful place with cute little chipmunks scurrying about to keep us company.

Our campsite at Olallie Campground

The next morning we packed some PBJ sandwiches and snacks, along with plenty of water, and drove the few miles north to the Koosah Falls parking area to take the Waterfalls Loop Trail. Our truck was the first vehicle in the parking area. We hiked the loop counterclockwise, hitting the falls from the eastern side at the start of the hike. However, I would recommend clockwise—and perhaps starting at the southern end of the hike, as the western side of the river is more open and thus warmer, whereas the eastern side is shady (at least in the morning) and closer to the river, keeping it cooler.

The sunlight was hitting the spray around Koosah Falls just right when we got there, flashing a bright rainbow across the mossy rocks near the falls. The cool air from the river was refreshing and the view lovely. We enjoyed the view in solitude. That solitude did not last as we hiked toward Sahalie Falls. We saw more people the closer we came to the falls. Probably because the main parking lot for the falls, and the loop trail, is at Sahalie Falls.

Koosah Falls with rainbow

Several other people enjoyed the beautiful view at Sahalie Falls with us. After a few minutes of admiration, we moved on past the falls—and past the crowds. During the rest of the loop, we only met a few hikers. Most people, it seems, only wanted to see the falls and not hike the loop. Fine with us!

Sahalie Falls

Being August, there were few flowers in bloom, and the trail was dusty in places. The narrow, often rocky trail made us glad we brought our hiking poles, which also made us feel secure on the downhill parts. (Rough getting old!) Almost the entire time we had views of the McKenzie River, crashing wildly through the little valley. The closer to it the trail bent, the more we felt the coolness that poured off the icy water.

At the northern end of the loop we crossed a footbridge over the McKenzie and took a left to follow the river back down, just on the other side. We got repeat views of Sahalie and Koosah Falls, but this time with more brush around and no crowds. We ate our lunch at an unofficial viewpoint for Koosah Falls.

trail on the east side

rattlesnake plantain

The west side of the Waterfalls Loop Trail is part of the McKenzie River Trail. When we reached the southern end of the loop, we decided to continue on the River Trail a bit, just to see what it was like. The trail wound past Carmen Reservoir and away from the water. It also became dustier and was rather narrow in places. While we had seen no bicycle riders on the loop trail, we did meet them here—and at times there wasn’t a lot of room to get out of their way. So we returned to the loop trail and headed back around the southern section, walking north a short distance to where we had begun—with another couple of Koosah Falls viewpoints to enjoy along the way. When we reached our truck, the parking area was full, with more coming in.

Afternoon view of Koosah Falls on the return leg

This is a beautiful 2.8 mile loop trail. It has some ups and downs, but nothing very strenuous, and the gorgeous views—not just at the falls, but throughout the hike—make it well worth your while. I do recommend starting early, before the crowds, especially on warm summer days. Enjoy the crashing waterfalls and maybe you will also be rewarded with a rainbow.

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Sutton Creek Trail, a lovely coastal hike near Florence, Oregon

View from Holman Vista

For a serene hike through beach pines, shrubs, and the occasional dune, check out the Sutton Creek Trail just north of Florence, Oregon. Florence is known for its sand dunes, and part of this trail hits the edge of some dunes, but most of it remains in the woods, a woods that might do Middle-earth proud.

We camped at Sutton campground four miles north of Florence. It is a quiet campground set amid fir and alder trees along Sutton Creek. Ferns, salal, huckleberry, and what looked to be salmonberry surround the campsites and give a good degree of privacy. And Sutton Creek Trail, a loop (or rather, figure 8) trail begins right in the campground.

The part of the loop closest to the creek meandered through beach pines filled in with salal, huckleberry bushes, and tall rhododendrons (not blooming in August). At times the brush and trees became so dense it was like walking through green and gray tunnels. Moss hung from some of the trees and sprinkled across the ground with occasional lichens and a few large—and odd-looking—mushrooms. It seemed like a landscape suited to elves and hobbits.

We heard an occasional jay or crow and, towards the end, the high-pitched shriek of an osprey high above. The only birds I actually saw were crows trying to maneuver the blustery winds, a single robin, and four nondescript wrentits flitting through the bushes.

We enjoyed the view from Holman Vista, looking over Sutton Creek to the wooded dunes beyond. The ocean roared from beyond the dunes, but it wasn’t visible. We tried what used to be the Beach Trail, but found no reliable way to cross Sutton Creek to the dunes. Apparently there was once a bridge there, but now there were only random logs for those more intrepid than I.

We turned onto the Northern Sutton Creek Trail. While the first half of the loop was a hard dirt trail through the woods, much of the second half of the trail became sandier with brushy dunes rising up to the left. Parts of the trail went along the edge of the dunes, and we found slogging uphill through the sand slower going. The area was more open with nice views of the sandy hills. We saw a couple of garter snakes slither off the path as we approached.

The first half of the trail has occasional benches where we enjoyed taking a short break. There were fewer on the return half of the loop. We ate our lunch sitting on a log beside the trail. At the dune near the end of our return—less than half a mile from Sutton Campground—two rope swings hung from a large tree over the sand. My husband tried one out just for fun.

The total hike is about six miles. Some ups and downs, but nothing at all extreme. Weather was nice—high 60s to maybe 70. A cool hike through the woods with a little added warmth in the more open areas made it a lovely coastal hike.

And if you visit the area, be sure to take a short trip to the Darlingtonia Wayside, less than a mile north on Highway 101. Carnivorous plants in abundance.

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Mirror Lake, Mt. Hood

The air was cool, the sky cloudy as we drove up Mt. Hood toward Mirror Lake on June 19. While it had been a favorite hike early in our marriage, we hadn’t been there in years. At first we thought we missed the parking area, a little turnout on Highway 26. But then we realized that tight parking area had been closed in favor of a shiny new parking lot just up the road—with lots of spaces and a permanent outhouse.

A new parking lot meant a different start to the trail, as well as new bridges along the way. The new trail was wider than the old, probably bulldozed through the woods. The hike, now a mile or so longer, eventually hooked up with the old trail, as we meandered through patches of purple rhododendrons, working our way uphill. When we reached the lake, the space opened up. Rhodies were everywhere, along with tall stalks of bear grass, huckleberry plants with tiny green berries, and other blossoming plants. Clouds hid the mountain, and wisps of fog drifted across the lake, whipped by a breeze that rippled the water. On this day Mirror Lake did not live up to its name.

We hiked on a ways past the lake, seeing even more wildflowers and some nice views. But the fog was growing thicker, and we realized that the nearby mountain would not appear today. We reminisced about the time we hiked up to Tom, Dick, and Harry Mountain and saw swarms of hummingbirds feeding on the flowers in a meadow below the ridge. We didn’t make it that far this time, but turned back so we could eat our lunch at the lake.

 

Despite the clouds, it was a good hike. I much prefer hiking in cool weather rather than hot weather. And the flowers were wonderful. Nature has so many moods, and the quieter beauty of a cloudy day can be as lovely as the brightness of the sunshine. But it would have been nice to get a view of the mountain. I guess we will just have to return sometime and try again.

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Canyon Creek Meadows, Oregon

Posing at Upper Meadow

Written July 11, 2016

Picturesque lakes, mountain meadows, views of jagged peaks, a forest being reborn after a disastrous fire—all elements of the beautiful Canyon Creek Meadows hike from Jack Lake, not far from Camp Sherman, Oregon.

Getting to the trailhead from our campsite at Smiling River campground on the Metolius River was a bit challenging. Finding the forest road signs to make sure we took the right roads and bouncing along miles of washboard gravel were the main issues. They were quickly forgotten once we hit the trail.

The morning chill didn’t stop a group of school-aged children from splashing in Jack Lake while their teacher/caretaker watched from the shore. It made me shiver—don’t kids feel the cold?

Ghost trees

We hiked through open pine woods—including several areas of bare “ghost trees” left from a 2003 fire. Small pine and hemlock were growing back, an encouraging sight. Farther along the forest got thicker as we entered unburned regions.

Lower Meadow was a green oasis of merging streams and flower-filled fields, although most of the flowers were yet to bloom. Apparently late July-early August is peak season for blossoms. Still we did see lupine, Indian paintbrush, cat’s ears, and other flowers scattered about.

lunchtime

Crossing a couple of small creeks, we ascended higher (and a bit more steeply) to Upper Meadow, which provided a spectacular view of Three Fingered Jack, still spotted with snow. As we hiked the even steeper trail past Upper Meadow, we had to cross a couple of large patches of snow before reaching the open rock area that led up to a viewpoint. The view was already amazing, and I was hungry and tired, so I wimped out and found a big rock to sit on while we ate lunch. My husband hiked a bit higher to a notch in the rock, but decided that was far enough. While a tricky scramble up a rocky hill will supposedly give views of the other Central Oregon mountains, we never made it there.

The hike down was lovely and we took the loop trail from Lower Meadow, which seemed empty of hikers but teeming with mosquitoes. (Could there be a correlation between the two?) Canyon Creek tumbled along next to the first section of the loop, milky with glacier water. More ghost trees stood sentinel around us, poking like needles into the deep blue sky. When we returned to Jack Lake, the group of children was gone, and a serene stillness filled the air.

Jack Lake in the afternoon

We returned to the Metolius, which was beautiful and remarkably mosquito-free.

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Lesser-known Columbia Gorge Waterfalls

Upper McCord Creek Falls

Early autumn is a perfect time for hiking in the Pacific Northwest. The bugs have died down, the weather has cooled, but the sun is still shining. And thus my husband, Gary, and I headed out Tuesday to enjoy the outdoors. Looking through 100 Hikes in Northwest Oregon and Southwest Washington by William L. Sullivan, I noticed two short (2-3 mile) hikes in the Columbia Gorge, so close to each other that they were together in one entry. Wahclella Falls and Elowah Falls. Despite our proximity to the Columbia Gorge, we’d never hiked either trail. Time to check them out!

The first one as we drove east through the Gorge (Oregon side) was Elowah Falls–with a bonus falls available (Upper McCord Creek) with a little extra uphill walking. The trail headed gently uphill, becoming a bit steeper on the Upper McCord part. It passed through shady forest, unfortunately close enough to hear the freeway sounds for much of the way, but finally heading back into the woods a bit. The McCord part opened up to a nice view of the Columbia River with Mt. Adams in the distance (I was thankful for the railing here, as the dropoff was steep.) before arriving at a nice, though rather small, waterfall. We explored a bit, then headed back toward Elowah Falls. As we neared the cascade, we could feel the temperature cool, until we came out in the rocky area below the falls, a fine place to rest and enjoy the view.

Elowah Falls hitting the rocks

Elowah Falls itself tumbled down from the cliff like a long, feathery tail, its pattern constantly changing, fascinating to watch.

Wahclella Falls

We left Elowah Falls, deciding to drive the three miles or so to Wahclella Falls and see what it was like. We were glad we did. The Wahclella Falls trail began as a gentle stroll along lovely Tanner Creek. We watched a pair of dippers zipping from rock to rock in the stream, whistling merrily. Sunlight sparkled on the creek, but the path was shady most of the way, a good thing as the afternoon was warming up. The path climbed higher above the creek before dropping back down to the falls area. Which was beautiful. Wahclella Falls poured into a deep pool, which emptied into rambling Tanner Creek. We sat by the falls and ate our PBJ sandwiches, then wandered on–with many photo breaks along the way. Gary had to explore a little cave near the river–apparently it went back quite some ways, but wasn’t high enough for easy exploration. We meandered on through the rocky little valley, across the creek and back up to the main trail. It is a hike I certainly plan to return to–a little gem I am so glad we discovered.

Cave near Wahclella Falls

Amazing that we can live in one area for so many years and yet miss out on nearby places of beauty. Why had we never thought to hike those trails before? It’s a reminder to me to watch for beauty all around, for even the familiar places we take for granted may be wondrous if we keep our eyes and hearts open.

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Reflected Beauty: the Lightning Lakes Trail, British Columbia

A couple of weeks ago we spent some time hiking in British Columbia. We saw many beautiful places–from snow-topped mountains to rushing waterfalls to turquoise lakes. However, one of my favorite hikes was the Lightning Lake Trail in Manning Provincial Park. Although one of the longer hikes we took, it was a pleasant ramble through green forests along quiet, little lakes. And it contained very little elevation gain: a big plus for a wimp like me! When I called for a camera break, it was actually to take pictures, not as an excuse to plop down on a log and pant until I had the strength to continue.

Later on the Joffres Lakes Trail, we saw beautiful, turquoise lakes, their color coming from glacial silt that fed into them. At Lightning Lakes, on the other hand, the color of the lake itself was hard to determine. The lakes were so still and silent that they simply mirrored the world above: tall, green conifers, summer blue sky, white fluffy clouds. Rather than calling attention to themselves, they modestly drew one’s eyes to the beauty around them. Even the paddles of two early morning kayakers scarcely raised a ripple. They appeared to paddle through the treetops in their lake reflection.

If only I could be like Lightning Lake–so calm and peaceful that when people look at me, they see the love of God shining from my face. Lord, in all I do, let my life reflect your beauty!

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Disconnected

We’d been camping for three days without cell phone reception. The campground was gorgeous with tall, mossy cedars and maples. A melodic stream rushed past the campsites. Yet I had a hard time adjusting. It took me three days to finally feel comfortable being out-of-touch. And even that acceptance might have been related to the fact that we would be leaving the next day.

Why do I feel such a strong need to be connected? Well, what if our sons needed something? Sure, they’re grown and have moved far away, but still, you never know. What if I have an email waiting, asking me to take on a new work project or a business trip? If I didn’t answer promptly, I could lose out. Someone else might get that trip to Sacramento or San Antonio.

How did we ever manage in the good, old, days? Hubby and I used to take off camping for two or more weeks at a time back before the invention of cell phones. We might call our parents once during the trip to check in, but generally we just sent postcards. One time we returned home to discover that my mother had spent two days in the hospital. Thankfully, she had been released and was doing much better by then, but it gave me a scare. Would we have cut our vacation short had we known? Maybe, maybe not, but we definitely would have called more often. I’m glad we have cell phones now, so the communication is easier.

Yet sometimes it is good to disconnect. In the stillness of the woods I can relax and feel closer to God, feel more a part of nature, and open myself up to awe and wonder. I can relax from the stress of daily life, including the stress of trying to keep up with my email and text messages. I can just be me. The world of people can somehow manage without me for a few days, and the likelihood I will return home to urgent phone calls and emails is small.

In a way, disconnecting is actually re-connecting. As I step back from the hassles of my daily life into the greenness of towering maples and the enchantment of birdsong, I connect with my soul, I connect with God. An empty well within me fills to overflowing with joy and peace, as the living water pours through me.

How could I forget how much I need the woods?

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Falls Creek Falls Trail, Washington

Last month my husband and I stayed at Paradise Creek Campground along the Wind River in SW Washington–a gorgeous place to stay and enjoy nature. I wrote this review of a hike we took, and I am now finally posting it. Better late than never!

The Falls Creek Falls Trail began quietly, through woods filled with ferns and mossy trees. Not as many flowers as the Observation Peak hike, but plenty of twin flowers, salal, and Oregon grape–the last no longer in bloom. We climbed gradually, following the splashing creek and working our way to the falls. The last third of a mile to the falls climbed more steeply before dropping a bit to a wonderful viewpoint. A refreshing breeze hit my sweaty face as we approached, and I was ready to drop onto one of many rock “chairs” to enjoy the view and rest in Creation’s beauty.

The falls itself consisted of three cascades, but only two could be seen from the viewpoint. The upper of the two spread out with many fingers of water tumbling down the rock face. The fingers joined together into one long cascade as the lower falls crashed into a shaded, rocky pool surrounded by green moss. We ate our lunch here, joined by a cheeky chipmunk looking for handouts. We gave him a couple of nuts and a blueberry, figuring those were natural foods for a chipmunk. He ignored the berry, but stuffed the nuts into his cheek and scrambled off to eat.

After a rest we headed up–and I do mean up–to the Upper Falls Trail. The connecting trail was steep, but just a warm-up for the trip to the top of the falls. What a relief when we made it to the top. A nice view, but nothing comparing to Observation Peak. Still the trails around it were nice–level paths through open woods with sunlight and lots of green plants. A pleasant change from the grueling uphill to get there.

As we headed back down the steep, narrow trail, the squeal of brakes warned me that a mountain biker was behind us. How he made it safely down that treacherous trail I don’t know. but tracks we noticed on the way up indicated he wasn’t the only one.

The upper loop back was far from the cool stream, and the heat of the day increased until I felt my body could easily replace a room radiator, and sweat dripped off my hair. When we reached the trailhead, I collapsed into the truck and flipped on the air conditioner. Okay, I’m spoiled, I know. But it certainly felt good!

Falls Creek Falls Trail is a beautiful hike, but my recommendation for all but those working on stamina training: stop at the falls. It’s the highlight of the trip, and the Upper Falls Trail adds little to it. Is there a metaphor for life here? Not sure. Maybe just that effort and reward are not always equal.

 

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Flowers and Mountain Views: Observation Peak Hike

 

Queen-cup lily

Trapper Creek Wilderness

Gifford Pinchot National Forest, Washington

Hubby patiently waits for me.

We set out bright and early, bumped along rutty gravel roads, and reached the trailhead for the Observation Peak hike shortly after 8 a.m. Morning coolness still hung in the air, as we donned our packs and headed up the trail. Tall cedar and fir surrounded us, and wildflowers brightened the sides of the path–Indian paintbrush, bunchberry, anemone, queen-cup lily, vanilla leaf, and coralroot, among others. No sounds of civilization met our ears, not even an airplane. The deep silence was broken occasionally by a bird singing from some hidden branch high above us–and by the incessant buzz of flies and annoying whine of mosquitoes, who left their marks on our tender skin. Even after we applied repellent, they danced around our faces and ears, looking for spots we missed. Still, not the worst insects we’d met hiking; they were bearable.

View of Mt. Hood

My husband forged ahead on the trail, eager to reach the promised viewpoints. I plodded slowly up the hill, making frequent stops to enjoy the scenery and take photographs–oh, yes, and to rest. Uphill hiking and I have our differences. The tall trees and abundant flowers gave me something to admire as I rested. Beauty can sometimes be as refreshing as a good sports drink.

After some ups and down of the trail, we climbed the last 0.6 miles of steady uphill. What a relief when the trees gave way to rocks and new types of flowers–bear grass, Mariposa lilies (I think), two stately tiger lilies, and a bright purple flower that I have yet to identify. We topped the rocky ridge and the world spread out before us, the views as spectacular as the guide book suggested. Dark green, rolling hills below us and majestic mountains whichever way we looked. Rainier, St. Helens, Adams in Washington state, and Hood, Jefferson, and the tiniest glimpse of the Three Sisters in Oregon. Absolutely gorgeous!

Mt. Adams

That purple flower with Mt. Adams behind it

We munched on PBJ sandwiches and enjoyed the cooling breeze as we took in the scenery. One thing about hiking around mountains; most trails go uphill. It can be hard work to reach the top–very hard work for some of us–but once I make it, I’m always glad I kept going. The wonderful view–and the feeling of accomplishment–makes it all worthwhile. A metaphor for life, no doubt. But I’d still love to discover a way to reach the top without working so hard!

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Grizzly Peak

 

We (husband and I) made another trip down to Ashland, Oregon to visit my brother. Last year we hiked Ostrich Peak, an exhausting, but beautiful hike. This year I requested something a bit less strenuous. Brother suggested Grizzly Peak. It turned out to be an excellent choice.

We drove up to the trailhead, where there was supposed to be an excellent view of surrounding mountains. However, smoke from forest fires in the region obscured the view. We headed up the trail–yes, it was uphill, but not as steep or as long as Ostrich. I could manage with only occasional rest breaks. We hiked through tall firs, passing meadows that must have been filled with flowers in early summer, but were now golden with dried grasses, with a dash of yellow-blooming sagebrush hear and there. It was cool in the woods with a morning breeze blowing.

Then we rounded a bend and emerged into a very different environment. Rolling hills before us, but covered with tall, whitened toothpicks of trees. Several years ago, the East Antelope fire had raged through those hills, destroying everything but the tree trunks. Grass and a few scraggly bushes were moving in, but that was about it. We stood on the border, lush firs behind us, barren landscape before us. A harsh reminder of the power of fire.

The trail led us into the open for a bit, through the rising warmth of the noontime sun, then finally back into the cooler greenness. I fell behind the guys, stopping to take pictures of a few late flowers, seedheads, and bright red berries on still-green bushes. I took deep breaths of the fresh air and enjoyed the mostly downhill end of the hike. A lovely way to spend a morning in September! (And no, there aren’t any grizzlies on Grizzly Peak.)

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