Feeds:
Posts
Comments

Posts Tagged ‘nature’

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.

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.

Read Full Post »

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.

Read Full Post »

Rest is not idleness, and to lie sometimes on the grass under trees on a summer’s day, listening to the murmur of the water, or watching the clouds float across the sky, is by no means a waste of time.

John Lubbock

Tiger swallowtail on a tiger lily

Read Full Post »

Scrub jay and Steller’s jay

The Great Backyard Bird Count has been fun. Birds have so much character. The Steller’s jays sweep in when I toss out peanuts. I hear them calling from the trees, alerting their friends and relatives. They swoop in to grab a peanut or two, then swoop away to a tree to eat, then back again. Most days they start coming in before I even leave the feeder area. However, my camera apparently freaks them out, because they wouldn’t come near when I was trying to take their picture. (The above was taken through the window.)

Red-breasted nuthatch

The chickadees and nuthatches flit in to the seed feeder, grab a sunflower seed, and retreat somewhere to eat it. But the house finches, house sparrows, and pine siskins sit at the feeder, gobbling down seed after seed. The towhees, juncos, and other sparrows hop about on the ground, eating what I’ve thrown down there and what the other birds knock out of the feeders. The juncos are the most active, darting from ground to tree to bush and chasing each other around from time to time.

White-crowned sparrow

The woodpeckers go for the suet, although the little downy woodpeckers will also eat from the seed feeder. And this year three yellow-rumped warblers (Yes, they do have yellow rumps!) visited the suet. I’ve never seen them at the feeder before, so that was an exciting surprise.

Yellow-rumped warbler coming in for a landing

God must have had fun making birds, because they are such delightful critters. They make me wish I could fly.

Read Full Post »

Shhhhh.

Have all the noises of life ever made you long for a few moments of silence? Yeah, me, too. And I found it not all that far from home.

Standing in the meadow surrounded by tall firs, I felt the silence all around me like a living presence. Few sounds broke the stillness—only a bird’s call far away and the gentle sighing of the breeze. The quiet sank into me, filled me with peace. If only I could stay here forever, what a joy that would be.

We’d only been camping at Little Crater Lake, a small campground on Mt. Hood, for two nights. A short retreat from the stresses of 2021: Covid, Afghanistan, fires, hurricanes, floods, political conflicts. All of this added to the ordinary stress of modern-day life seemed an overwhelming burden, even though we ourselves were relatively untouched by the disasters. But like many these days, we were bombarded by the news—always the bad news—and it weighed us down.

I had forgotten how much I needed the quiet of nature, of time spent in God’s magnificent creation. We hiked through the woods, lounged in our campsite reading, or just closed our eyes and listened to the quiet. It restored our souls.

We need to find time for quiet in our lives. Even if you can’t get away, perhaps you can walk through a neighborhood park or garden, sit in your backyard, or visit an apartment rooftop. Or make a tiny retreat in your home with pictures from nature and things that bring peace to your mind and soul. Close your eyes and imagine a beautiful place you have been. Imagine the breeze and the sunshine on your skin. Birds singing or crickets chirping. Maybe a river bubbling over the rocks or ocean waves beating against the sand. Then say a prayer to the God who made it all, and let your gratitude be the quiet that washes away stress.

Read Full Post »

vine maple in sun (1 of 1)With Covid still in full swing, my husband and I have searched for out-of-the-way places to camp and hike. While we carry our masks with us, it’s much nicer if we can keep them in our pockets and enjoy a solitary hike. There are other benefits to hiking lesser known trails. We love the quiet of the deep woods, the soothing sounds of a clear stream rushing over stones, bird calls that echo through the stillness. These are all more fully enjoyed without other voices breaking the quiet.fleabane (1 of 1)

We recently camped two nights in a forest camp along the Breitenbush River in the Oregon Cascades. The first full day we drove some distance to a hike that climbed to a nice viewpoint, where we rested and ate lunch. We only saw two other people the whole time. On the day we were leaving, we decided to take a short hike from the campground. The trail began above the river, partially visible through the trees and brush. Nothing special, but we would at least get our steps in, we thought. But then things changed.

Gary in rainforest (1 of 1)The trail turned away from the river, entering some woods. Suddenly we felt like we had entered the Hoh Rainforest. The ground was green with moss and thick strands hung from the trees. Ferns grew amidst the salal, Oregon grape, and huckleberry plants. Sunlight slanted through maple and fir trees, adding to the beauty. And all of this just steps from a dusty trail above a river.moss-hung tree (1 of 1)

We hadn’t expected much of the trail—just a pleasant stroll before breaking camp. What we received was a special gift from God, beauty to carry with us as we returned to our home. What if we hadn’t gone for a morning walk? We would never have known what we missed. How often does that happen in my life? How many times do I stick to what I know, rather than trying out something new? Maybe I need to try new things more often—cook a new recipe, read a book outside my usual genres, develop a new skill, make a new friend. What beauty might be waiting for me just around the bend?

 

Read Full Post »

PCT by Panther Creek (1 of 1)

beginning of the hike

Only about an hour’s hike to a viewpoint, the camp host told my husband and me. It was uphill, but not steep, he said. So we headed out from Panther Creek Campground to the Pacific Coast Trail—and immediately the path sloped uphill through tall trees. Not steep? Well, it probably depends on one’s definition. We hit our first switch back and continued to the next. And the next. And the next.

After an hour, we were still going. Every so often we saw bright areas ahead, like the top of the hill. Not long now, we thought. But then the next switchback revealed the trail continuing onward and upward, with no top in sight. Two hours and still no viewpoint. Did I mention I am a lousy uphill hiker?

phantom orchid (1 of 1)

phantom orchid

Another switchback, another long uphill stretch. Was that the top of the hill to the side or just another illusion? I plowed forward without my usual rest breaks, up the last two switchbacks. I strode into the sunlight and gazed at dark green hills below. A few steps more, and Mt. Adams came into view. Finally, we made it. We rested a bit, enjoying our achievement—and the scenery—before heading back down to camp (a hike which, for some odd reason, took half the time of the hike up).

trees on PCT (1 of 1)

tall trees on the way

That hike is a bit like our current situation with COVID-19. We bought our masks, tried ordering groceries online, holed up in our safe, little home, expecting normal life to be just around the next switchback. My husband and I discussed taking a May trip to Japan to see our son and daughter-in-law. So glad we never made reservations. Then we thought summer might bring a reprieve. We might at least get out to Pittsburgh to see our other son and his family. Nope, still struggling up the hill. And now, who knows when it will end? My legs are getting tired and my heart is pounding as we work our way up this hill—or perhaps this mountain.

tapertip onion (1 of 1)

tapertip onion

But our hike was a success. We kept going and made it to the viewpoint. Our reward was a lovely sight and a feeling of accomplishment. So hang in there, friends. We can ask God for extra strength when ours is running out. Better yet, we can rely on His strength, rather than our own. It may not be easy. We may get tired well before we reach the end. But with God’s help, we will eventually make it to the viewpoint and be very glad we didn’t give up.

Mt. Adams (1 of 1)

Mt. Adams

 

Read Full Post »

IMG_1481The 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.

IMG_1501

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.

IMG_1511

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.IMG_1546

Read Full Post »

Sunrise through treeThe early morning sun lit up the fog, giving the yard an unearthly aura. I should get out there with my camera, I thought. But I was still eating breakfast, and the grass was wet, and I was feeling lazy. Still, that light was amazing. I finally roused myself from my chair.

red leavesShoes and jacket on, camera dangling from my neck, I headed outside—only to find the dawn even more spectacular that it had appeared through the window. Dew sparkled on green grass. Leaves were lit up like stained glass windows, as light shone through them. The sun, shining through a tree, shot rays of light in all directions, like heavenly beams in the fog. I snapped picture after picture, forgetting all about my damp feet.

And to think I almost missed it! How much beauty have I missed because I was too comfortable to leave my warm house? How many unique experiences have I let pass me by because I was too fearful to change my safe routine or too set in my ways to step outside the little boxes I created for myself? God gives us so many chances to find beauty, to learn, to grow. But sometimes we need to step outside before we can find them.autumn maple leaf

Read Full Post »

Posing at Upper Meadow

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

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

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.Canyon Creek Meadows hike view

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

Jack Lake in the afternoon

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

Save

Read Full Post »

Older Posts »