Once again, I missed the fireworks. I admit that I was looking forward to photographing them, but in the end, I was busy hanging out with friends, and we decided not to go over to Pullman. I did spend much of my nation’s birthday enjoying one of the best parts about this country: its wild side.
I went back up to Freezeout to hike into the alpine meadows of Grandmother Mountain, and I brought a friend with me who had never been up there. Our goal was not to reach the summit, but to simply escape the heat, enjoy the views, and see what wildflowers were in bloom. It was a beautiful day for a hike worthy of celebrating our day of Independence.
Wilderness is not uniquely American, but there are some unique aspects of the idea that originated here. There are many vast tracts of wilderness on the planet, but most of them are located in places that are either uninhabitable or are conomically depressed. But as third world nations develop and our resource consumption grows, these wild places are under threat of being lost forever. This happened through much of Europe where wilderness is nearly nonexistent. Sure, there are still natural places, but the habitat is highly fragmented and much of the forest land has been converted to fields for agriculture. The United States was headed for a similar disaster. Most of the forests in the east have been cut down at one point in our history and left to re-grow in small patches here and there. We have almost no original prairie left on the great plains. And the great western forests are logged down to the soil in places.
But before we could cut down every last tree and develop every last interesting place into a circus show, we decided that some places were better left unspoiled in their natural state, and that this untouched paradise could be an attraction in itself. So, at the end of the 19th century, the national park system was born, an idea that is truely American and has spread around the world in efforts to protect special places in danger of being lost for developmental gain. In the 1960’s, the push for true wilderness brought us the Wilderness Act of 1964, allowing congress to set aside land to never be developed. Few of today’s wilderness areas were untouched when designated, most were once logged or mined or farmed and were abandoned to be reclaimed by the forces of nature. This is what makes the United States so great and so unique. We are a developed and technologically advanced nation that set aside valuable habitable or developable land in order that we may have some wild places left to enjoy.
The forests of Marble Creek and Freezeout were once logged bare, but decades of non-use have hidden many of the scars. The landscape is beautiful up there with a sense that you truely are in a wild place, even if it’s not completlely untouched.
I’m still amazed by how much beargrass is in bloom. It seems to be a good year. But all good comes with a trade-off, and the trade-off here is that the rest of the wildflowers don’t seem to be doing as well. The quantity of lupine blooming is down from the past two years, and much of the other color is missing as well. It’s not that the plants aren’t there, they just aren’t putting out flowers this year.
CJ and I hiked a total of four miles, two in and two back, which brought us up the slope to Grandmother Mountain, but not quite to the 6000 foot line. In other words, we didn’t make it to the big rock upon which I like to stop and rest. But that’s ok. I hiked four miles and my leg never bothered me. This marks the first time I’ve hiked that kind of distance since the accident, and to make it better, we made the hike in 2 hours, my normal hiking pace. I’m excited because I could very well be back to taking moderate day hikes by the end of the summer.
Last weekend, I reported on a snowshoe hike along the Potlatch River and alluded to a second snowshoe adventure the same weekend. In fact, we had planned a little excursion out along Rt. 12 to Jerry Johnson hot springs. It turned out that the hot springs are still popular in winter, at least enough so that the one-mile trail was packed down such that we didn’t need snowshoes after all. So, for the second time this season, a snowshoe hike simply became a winter hike. While we were all looking forward to snowshoeing in, the real goal was to soak in the steamy pools beside the ice-cold creek, and in that regard, this trip was very much a success.
The hike begins by crossing the Lochsa River over a pack bridge. Once on the other side, you walk through a beautiful forest along the banks of Warm Springs Creek. On this trip, it was a formidable winter wonderland with deep snow along the banks of the creek and sitting atop any rocks not submerged. There was a mixture of ice and free-flowing water, with some submerged ice clinging to the river bed. Make no mistake, this water was cold. In fact, we passed one family on their way out who had tried to jump into the first hot spring pool. At this pool, the hot water falls out of a cliff and collects along the side of the creek. During most of the year, the hot pool is either submerged or highly mixed with the creek water. The mother had undressed and jumped right in without testing the water first, and she received quite a surprise in doing so. The next pools were not much farther ahead, but it made no difference. The cold water was enough to send this family right back to the car.
In fact, the next pool wasn’t very much beyond the first one… maybe .2 mile or so. When we reached it, there were two families with children who were finishing up their soak. They told us that the third pool had been pretty trashed with beer cans and spaghetti-o’s littering the ground, but they had only heard that from the ranger. While they were getting out, I decided to go check out the third pool just to see what it was all about. It turned out that it wasn’t quite as trashed as the other people made it out to be and could have been perfectly good for us. This pool overlooked an open meadow with views of the mountains in the background and direct radiation from the sun. The only problem: it was lukewarm. So, we went back to the second pool which, despite its location in the shade, had the hottest temperature of any of the pools that day.
None of the pools were extremely hot. The guide book says that the springs register at 115º at their source, but the pool felt like bath water. It was just hot enough to warm the soul, and cool enough to stay in comfortably for a few hours.
But what’s the fun in that? I challenged Tyler to take a little dip in the creek, so we walked down, wondering if this would be the end of us, and waded in. I’ve jumped into swimming pools straight from hot tubs before, and that’s enough of a temperature difference to cause some discomfort. But when getting out of a hot spring and stepping into (literally) ice-cold water, that just causes pain. In fact, I could only stay in up to my waiste for about 10 seconds before my legs went completely numb. Thankfully, there was a warm pool right next to the creek where we could let our feet thaw before getting back in the hot pool.
We were quite lucky to have the pool to ourselves. As we arrived, the families in the pool were drying off and packing up. There were two small groups behind us that went to the third pool. By the time we were ready to pack up ourselves, a few more groups showed up, and we passed some more coming in on our way out. So, really, we timed it perfectly.
Winter is the best time to visit these hot springs. Although they are still popular, they can get quite crowded in the summer, so you’re much more likely to have some extra space while there is snow on the ground. Besides, the hot water feels much better when complimented by a crisp winter day. I think another visit might be in store before spring arrives.
Note: While the hot springs themselves were in pretty good condition, the trail was littered with beer cans and bottles. It was pretty bad to the point of causing aggravation. I’m not sure what goes through someone’s mind that makes it ok to just dump their trash in a nice beautiful setting, but if this is something you do or have done, please don’t ever do it again. Carry your trash out and dispose of it properly. It’s the only way we can continue to have beautiful and special places like this.
I must have forgotten to post about this trip. This was last week, January 5, 2013. This was Idaho Parks and Recreation’s free day in which no parking pass was required to use the Park n’ Ski areas or any of the state parks. There are two Park n’ Ski areas near Moscow: Elk River and Palouse Divide. The Park n’ Ski areas are generally groomed nordic ski trails, but some of them are good for snowshoeing as well. Since the hike to Elk River falls would have been more than 2 miles one-way, I suggested we head up to Palouse Divide where a short trail would take us to a view over the St. Maries River valley. It would only be a mile to the view with the option to continue snowshoeing if we felt the trip was too short.
When we got to the snow park, I noticed that the first part of our trail was cleared for logging traffic. About .1 miles in, we found what looked like a nice trail that left the road and headed up, but that trail soon disappeared and after consulting the GPS, I decided that our real trail was up the road a bit. Of course, when we got there, we found that the entire trail to the Emida View was in fact plowed for the logging trucks. So, we had a nice walk along the road, but the snowshoes were unnecessary.
The views along this road are quite nice, and we had some special weather effects to make the experience a bit more magical. The first thing we notice are some snow-capped peaks in the distance, part of the St. Joe mountains behind St. Maries. A little further down the road, the view opened up to the east exposing the rounded hills of the Palouse Divide. In the distance, we could make out the high peaks of the Freezeout Saddle area, but more immediately, Bald Mountain rose up as the highest point in the range. But here’s the cool part: In the valley, the mist had concentrated into a nice cloud below us. It’s a condition I have been waiting forever to photograph.
We ended up hiking well beyond the view, thinking that there would be an even clearer view up ahead, but eventually, we stopped for lunch and turned back. Since we didn’t get to use our snowshoes, I led a few people on a “short cut” off trail back to the parking area. While we had fun tromping through the 2-feet of powder, it turned out to be harder than we expected. Shadow figured it out with no problem. Greta kept getting stuck in some deep spots, though she eventually made it. Once we intercepted the old logging road, the rest of the hike was a breeze.
Palouse Divide seems like a nice place to explore the winter mountains of north-central Idaho, but either we’ll have to explore the other side which is not open to logging trucks, or cross-country ski it. This one seems like a better place to ski.
This snowshoeing thing is taking off, and if I keep this up, I’ll be in shape enough to not suck at hiking at the beginning of the hiking season. This week’s adventure brings us up Spud Hill, also known by some as Mount Deary. Spud Hill was my first Idaho summit, and it’s a great little local hike that I often overlook. But I’ve always wanted to hike it in the winter, and today, Spud Hill became my first winter Idaho summit.
The one difference between snowshoeing and hiking, aside from the snow on the ground, is that distances seem longer than they would on bare ground. For example, during the last half-mile after we leave the main road, the trail switch backs and makes one last steep hurrah for the summit. Today, that section to the switchback seemed to go on longer than I remembered it. Perhaps its because each step takes so much more energy in the deep snow. On the other hand, that last steep ascent is much easier in snowshoes than in the summer when the loose gravel tends to give way under your feet.
In all, it was a great day. When C.J. and E.T. arrived at my house, they got stuck in the driveway and subsequently slid off the drive into the snow while backing down. We tried everything to get her car out, but evenually resorted to shovelling out a short path to the road behind her. That fun bout of problem sovling did cost us about an hour of hiking time. But no matter, we made it to the summit and back in about 3 hours.
The view from the top was beautiful. The Palouse was all covered in white, and the afternoon sun was golden. It wasn’t the clearest day, but sometimes, that makes the view more dramatic. The trees were still covered in snow, so it felt like we were exploring a winter wonderland. Then again, perhaps this part of Idaho is a winter wonderland. But see for yourself. Click on the image above to see more photographs from this hike.
A layer of mist hovers over the snow behind the house.
Well, now that Winter has finally arrived, we thought it might be fun to tromp through the snow and get some exercise. I dusted off the snowshoes (literally) and we set off for a little hike out of our back yard. As we began our trek, I noticed an awesome mist hovering over the snow, and since we hadn’t left the yard yet, we turned back to get my camera.
We were walking in snow that had not been disturbed, so it was quite soft and difficult, even with snowshoes. In fact, in the hour that we were out, we only managed to travel about .3 miles. Nonetheless, we had fun, and the dogs certainly enjoyed themselves. Greta loves the snow. It’s quite possibly her favorite thing all year round. When the snow accumulates, she become giddy like a puppy. She also likes to pretend she’s a wild dog by sticking her face into the snow as if to hunt mice running around beneath. Shadow also enjoys the snow. While she doesn’t quite act like a puppy, her favorite thing to do is roll around in it. It’s the first thing she’ll do, especially when we encounter summer snow patches in the high elevation.
Shadow shows off her beard of snow.Wild dogs, such as coyotes and foxes, are able to hunt even when the snow is six feet deep. Greta likes to pretend she is a wild dog.
By the end of our little walk, the sun had set and the mist had accumulated at the bottom of our neighbor’s field making a really neat scene. See some more photos from our walk below. Tomorrow, I think I’ll take the snowshoes out and explore some of the forest trails nearby.
The mist on the snow had accumulated at the bottom of our neighbor’s field.
This is the story of how Dan Beck and I ended up spending much of our Labor Day weekend in the backcountry of one of Idaho’s most scenic and rugged mountain ranges, the Seven Devils.
It begins over a week before when I sent out a message for a backpacking trip over Labor Day weekend. I suggested a 3-night trip into the Eagle Cap Wilderness with an emphasis on summiting peaks rather than counting long miles. I had some interest and was all set for our 3rd annual Wallowas weekend, when some of the members decided it would be a good time to go fishing in the backcountry lakes. Rather than pay for an out of state license, the idea was to hike in Idaho at the Seven Devils. I just wanted to get out in the wilderness, so the Seven Devils became our new destination. When the five of us met to cover logistics, at least two members voiced that they would rather be home on Monday to work on projects. So, we cut the trip down to two nighs instead of three. Shortly after, one dropped out in order to finish assignments, and on Friday morning, two more dropped out for personal reasons. At this point, I was wondering if I would have to find a place to go solo, but Dan, who was really in it for the fishing, still wanted to get out of town. So we set off for the Seven Devils for a weekend away from the modern world.
We began our hike on Friday afternoon, heading over the climber’s route to Sheep Lake. This is the path that whooped our whole group last year as a day hike, but after considering the alternative 9+ mile hike to the lake, this route is quicker and easier, even at a reduced pace. In fact, it turned out to not be bad at all for a one-way trip, even with packs on. We made it to the lake with sunshine to spare while we searchd for a good campsite for the night. As a holiday weekend, I expected the area to be fairly crowded, and when we got to Sheep Lake, all of the nice camp sites were taken. But in general, the parking lot at the trailhead was emptier than I expected. Apparently, many people begin their long weekend on Saturday. Despite the “crowd,” we still found our piece of solitude next to the lake where we had everything set up before the sun set.
When I finally woke up Saturday morning, Dan had already been up and fishing. I missed the early minutes of sunrise, but concluded that there probably wasn’t much to see in the way of an alpenglow from our location. But the golden sun gowing off of the summit of He Devil was slowly making its way down toward the lake. I grabbed the camera and set off to find a nice place to photograph the morning. Another group had told me of some mountain goats hanging out near the point where the climber’s route drops into the lake basin. I headed over that way and sure enough, there was a family hanging out on a ledge. I switched lenses and tried to sneak closer, but when I emerged from behind a rock, they had run away.
We stayed at Sheep Lake late into the morning and then packed up for the Bernard Lakes and Dry Diggins lookout. The Sheep Lake trail rises up over a small ridge at the north end of the lake and down into the adjacent basin where there are a string of smaller lakes with fish more likely to bite a lure. We stopped for lunch at Basin Lake where a couple of larger groups were camping and fishing. In the short time we were there, Dan had hooked a nice Rainbow trout in such a way that he couldn’t just release it back into the water. Since we were hiking another couple of hours and didn’t want to carry a fresh fish that long, we gave it to the group of campers to cook up.
We intended to turn south on the Seven Devils trail and hike the ridge to Dry Diggins lookout before descending to the Bernard Lakes, but we missed that turn and found ourselves at the Bernard Lakes Trail. The trail descends steeply into a dry basin and ascends the opposite side to get to the lakes. By this time, we were quite tired, but at least we were close to our destination. The first lake we came to was a shallow pond full of water lillies. The second lake, Lower Bernard, was bigger and deeper with fish jumping at the surface. The third lake was the largest, and presumably had the best fishing, but it turned out to be shallow and void of fish. It also lacked good camping locations. There was one on the opposite side of the lake that another pair of hikers took, so we made a site nearby. I’ll know next time to camp at the lower lake instead.
We set up camp and Dan headed down to the water to fish. I headed up to the Dry Diggins lookout, about 1 mile and 500 feet of elevation gain away. It was good to hike without the weight on my back and I got to the tower with the hope of staying for sunset. Dry Diggins is a fire tower perched on the edge of Hells Canyon. At 7800 feet, the canyon drops over 6000 feeet directly to the Snake River, making this the deepest canyon in North America. The fire tower has been decomissioned, but the cabin is open and looks like it had been abandoned by its last inhabitants. The bed still has sheets on it, there’s still a stove and an empty water cooler. The last reports in the incident log are from 1989. Given the state of the cabin, I wouldn’t want to spend the night inside, but it does offer an emergency shelter if needed. I would love to see the tower restored and turned into a backcountry cabin or hiker’s shelter. Unforutnately, the nearest reliable water source is the Bernard Lakes, so if you want to spend the night up there, be prepared for dry camping or a long commute to get water.
I intended to stay up there for sunset to capture the pink alpenglow on the Seven Devils, but with an hour to go, the temperatures were quickly dropping and the wind was picking up. Having left my warm layers back at the lakes, I decided it wasn’t worth sticking around and headed back. I caught the last of the sunlight on the summits of the Devils from Upper Bernard Lake. Saturday night was colder than Friday. I put both my bug net and tarp over the hammock to hold heat.
Morning came and I got up just in time to bask in the first rays of sun to hit our campsite. Since we were farther from the high peaks, the sun hit earlier. We made breakfast and packed up camp and Dan headed down to the lower lake to fish. I decided to see how the morning view at the tower compared with the evening. It turns out that the smoke and haze had cleared out over night and the view was very clear. I could see details in the Wallowas on the other side of the canyons and even make out the Blue Mountains over 60 miles away. Saturday evening’s view was fairly good, but not this nice. Friday would have been a complete bust. The smoke was thick driving up the mountain that we could smell it in the air. I spent some time at the tower enjoying the view and reflecting on life. The scenery is so big that it really puts into perspective how small we are as individuals.
I finally returned to the lakes, gathered my pack, and collected Dan from the lower lake. We set off back down the Bernard Lakes trail which headed down into the dry basin and up the other side. It was steep, but we slowly made it. Then we headed back to the car at Windy Saddle by way of the Seven Devils Trail. I knew that this trail headed down into Sheep Creek Basin and then back up, and that the elevation differnece would be about 1000 feet, but this had to be the longest 1000 feet ever. The trail crosses an open scree field as it makes its way into the basin. Upon reaching the “bottom,” the trail enters a nice lush forest and crosses the East and West forks of Sheep Creek. This is where we stopped for lunch and to fill up with fresh water for the brutal ascent to come. The next two miles we climbed over 1000 feet through exposed scree fields in what seemed like the toughest hike I had ever done. In truth, I’ve hiked longer stretches of uphill gaining more elevation, but I think this was both mentally taxing and I was out of shape. I finally made it to the top where there is a spectacular view down the basin into Hells Canyon, and then the trail descends again before the final ascent to Windy Saddle.
The GPS says I travelled 20 miles, but in reality, it was closer to 17 or 18. I was beat when I arrived at the car, glad to have only gone out two nights instead of three. I’m not sure if I’d ever take that route again, but in reality, if I’m prepared (and now I know what to expect), it might not be so bad. This was a tough hike, but I’d still recommend it for anyone visiting the area.
This is my third visit to the Seven Devils, and it won’t be my last. I’d love to bring more people out to the Dry Diggins lookout. I’d like to hike the whole loop around the Devils, visiting more lakes along the way. And I’d like to set up base camp and take some time to summit some of the peaks.
There are many peaks in the Wallowas that top 9000 feet, so East Peak might go unnoticed if it weren’t so easily accessible. It turns out that I’m not the only one who thought to use the Wallowa Lake Tramway to cover the first 3700 feet of elevation, reducing the climb to the peak to 1300 feet. This hike is featured in the book, and while I was’t expecting a crowd, we did pass three other hikers along the way, two of which are local to the area and hike to the peak regularly.
The Wallowa Lake Tramway brings you to the summit of Mt. Howard. At 8200 feet, the views are incredible, but they also leave something to be desired. For one, you can only look across the Wallowa River valley, and not back into the huge, glacially carved terrain. And as you climb higher, every view always becomes more impressive. Finally, the crowds of tourists stick to the nature trails at the top of the tram, leaving you with an alpine experience that the masses don’t get.
The trail begins on the backside of the nature trails on Mt. Howard where a faint trail takes off down the east side of the mountain. It can be easy to miss if you’re not looking for it. Despite there not being an official trail, the path is well worn and easy to follow all the way to the summit. At one time, this must have been a popular destination because the forest service had a set of privies in the first saddle below the summit of Mt. Howard. The privies are no longer maintained. Neither have seats on the toilet and one is missing a door. After the saddle, there is a short, but steep climb that quickly levels off for a nice walk to the next saddle. You’re now in fairly treeless terrain so the trail is marked by a series of cairns that switchback up the slope and route you around the next false summit toward the next saddle. Here, the trail branches. To the right, you’ll ascend to the ridge where you make your way to the summit of East Peak. To the left, you can skirt around the summit to a spring and continue to the back side where you can summit East Peak or the next peak, Hidden Peak. Or you can continue to Aneroid Mountain, but that might be getting far for a day hike. Remember, the first tram is at 10:00, and if you’re lucky to be the first one, you’ll hit Mt. Howard at 10:15. The last tram down is at 4:45 pm, so timing is important.
The book describes the hike up East Peak as having a scramble. It’s true that there are some rocks along the ridge to the summit, but nothing that really requires any climbing skills. The ridge top is neat, though. There are points where it is only a couple feet wide with steep dropoffs on both sides. The rock scramble does end and the ridge widens a bit for the final approach to the summit.
From the summit, you can look up the U-shaped valley to see Aneroid Lake and the mountains surrounding it. Some of the prominent peaks you can see include Aneroid Mountain, Sentinal Peak, Red Mountain, Eagle Cap, Sacajawea, Matterhorn, and Chief Joseph. To the east, you can look over the Imnaha canyon and Hells Canyon and see the Seven Devils rising into the sky. To the north, you can see Wallowa Lake, Joseph, and Enterprise over a mile below while looking out over the Wallowa valley to the Blue Mountains in the distance. It’s such an amazing place to be.
Everytime I’m up on Grandmother Mountain, I look to the east and see the bald dome of Lookout Mountain rising over the Marble Creek drainage and I long to stand on top and look down from the other side. Finally, with my parents and sister visiting, I decided this would be the perfect opportunity to try out this trail.
There are several mountains in northern Idaho named Lookout. This is not the ski area on the Idaho-Montana border off of I-90. This is not the peak in the Selkirks north of Sandpoint of the same name. This is in the St. Joe National Forest, accessed from FS-301, the same road that leads to Freezeout Saddle and the Grandmother Mountain trail outside of Clarkia.
Lookout Mountain is unique for this area because its summit is completely bald, offering spectacular views in 360 degrees. The summit stands at 6789 feet above sea level and overlooks Lost Lake, the nearest glacial tarn of considerable size to the Moscow Area. This trail is absolutely beautiful and probably seldom used compared to the neighboring Grandmother Mountain trail. The trailhead is only 7 miles farther down the road, but due to the rough road conditions, it took an extra hour of driving to get there. Despite its apparent remoteness, the trail and trailhead are in great condition. The trailhead features several developed campsites with picnic tables and fire rings along with a well-maintained privy. There are also two other small campgrounds nearby. Next time I hike this trail, I may have to spend the night.
From the trailhead at Orphan Saddle, it’s a 4-mile walk to the summit of Lookout Mountain. The trip isn’t very difficult, though you’ll begin your journey with a 600 foot ascent in just under a mile. By the time you start getting tired, you reach the ridge at 6500 feet and the journey becomes a relaxing meander through a mixture of hemlock forest and grassy field. The next two miles are gentle, holding elevation until the Widow Peak trial splits off, and then gently descending into the saddle above Lost Lake. The last mile is a 700 foot ascent to the summit, and though it may seem steep, you’re on the spine of the ridge with views that get better with every step you take. Take as much time as you need and eventually, you’ll find you can’t go any higher.
The return journey isn’t too bad. The descent on the way out was gradual and not very noticeable, but you may notice the uphill on the return. However, it’s still gentle compared to the two ascents (now descents) on the way out. In short, this may have become my new favorite local hike. Unfortunately, it is such a pain in the butt to get to that I’ll probably still stick to Grandmother Mountain as my go-to escape to higher elevations.
My father-in-law and his wife have been visiting us since last Wednesday. Before coming out, he had asked if we could go on a little male bonding trip into the backcountry for a night. So, I set about looking for a short and easy hike to a spectacular place. I figured he had probably never spent the night under the rocky peaks next to a glacial tarn, and the high lakes are also one of my favorite places to spend a night, but most of the lakes around here are either fairly strenuous hikes, long hikes, or take nearly all day to get to the trailhead. Stevens lake originally came to mind, but Erin thought that might be too steep, despite the short 2.5 mile hike in. So I kept looking around and found Loon Lake out of McCall, which isn’t really a high mountain tarn but a morain lake at the base of a glacially carved valley.
I was all set to go to McCall when the heat wave hit Idaho. It was over 90-degrees in Moscow, and not much cooler in McCall. So I thought about some place that was a bit higher up: the Seven Devils. The loop trail around the seven devils is on the easy side of moderate, and Cannon Lake is only 4 miles in from the trailhead. At 7000 feet, the temperatures were much cooler than anywhere else. Then I checked the weather and noticed a good chance of rain in the McCall area, but less of a chance at the Seven Devils.
The trail to Cannon Lakes is short and sweet. It’s not difficult at all except for a few downed trees to navigate around. This is a beautiful walk around the east side of the Devils, descending through a lush forest of Mountain Hemlock and then traversing the mountainside through the burned forest, now on its way to recovery, but for now lined with lupine, paintbrush, and a variety of other wildflowers. The trail crosses a few creeks and at about 3 miles, meets up with the Cannon Lakes trail. From there, you ascend back up to 7000 feet over the next mile, traversing through beautiful flower-laden alpine meadows. The toughest part of the hike was the return trip, where we had to ascend about 1000 feet over the course of 1.5 miles back to the trailhead.
Cannon Lake sits in a basin between She Devil and Tower of Babel, both of which are visible from the trail, but disappear behind some closer formations as you approach the lake. The peaks tower over 2000 feet and really instill a sense of awe. Because we were on the west side of the range, the sunset was fairly lackluster, but sunrise was spectacular. The high peaks receive the first light of the day and are quickly bathed in the pink alpenglow of the sun emerging from the horizon. Normally, I’d be up to witness the first light on the peaks, but on this trip, I slept in, woken up only by my father-in-law who beat me to the morning view. Luckily, I rushed out of the tent just in time to catch the whole face bathed in pink before the color completely faded.
Friday’s hike in was on a very hazy and muggy day. The air was cooler up on the mountain, but the view was almost nonexistent. You could barely make out the mountain peaks across the Salmon River canyon. Despite the threat of thunderstorms, we had a clear night with blue skies and sunshine the next morning. The haze had thinned out on Saturday and the temperatures dropped a bit never exceeding 70. It was the perfect hiking condition.
When we returned to the car, I decided to show him the campground, and it’s a good thing we did. A mountain goat was hanging around one of the campsites. I then took him up to the Heaven’s Gate Lookout to get him over 8000 feet and get a view of Hells Canyon. Our stay at the tower was cut short by an approaching thunder storm that we watched approch over the high peaks. I’d say we timed this trip perfectly. The rain hit as we started our descent back into Riggins.
There’s one precaution to take when hiking into the high country this time of year. I had underestimated the course of mosquito season, and it seems we had hit the motherload. I also made the mistake of dismissing the need for bug spray. I generally don’t use it because I hate putting chemicals on me and introducing them into the environment. But given how bad the mosquitoes were, I’m willing to reconsider.
The heatwave has hit the northwest. Today’s temperatures on the Palouse rose into the high 90’s, and tomorrow it may break 100. I wanted to hike so I can get in shape for backpacking next month, so I thought I’d take the dogs up to Freezeout Saddle and hike to Grandmother Mountain. But when I got up there, it was also hot and somewhat muggy, so we didn’t make it very far. I brought the camera, but got no pictures on this trip. The summer wildflowers are starting to bloom: beargrass was in its early stages, and the lupine had buds, but no open flowers yet. Plox was open, creating a colorful ground cover in places. The glacier lilies had already gone to seed. But overall, we should see the full color in the next week or two. Already, there is less snow on the trail than there was when I brought my parents up at the end of July last year. This holds good promise that the high country is now open for business.
The best part about today’s excursion was the wildlife sightings, nearly all of them from the car as we were headed down. The only wildlife I spotted from the trail was a fesh pile of bear scat. But on the way down, I came across a very colorful Western Tanager, an elk on the road, a family of skunks (mom and 3 juveniles, I believe), and what I believe to be a wolf. As I came to the bottom of the incine where the road meets the creek, I saw a large dog standing in the intersection. It looked like a husky, definitely bigger than a coyote, but I was also far away so it’s hard to tell. It ran off, and I kept driving, but then I saw it again in the road, running away. I tried to catch up to it to get a better look, but it darted off to the side and then I lost it. I’m not absolutely positive it was a wolf. Coyotes are much more common and more likely, but this was bigger than any coyote I’ve seen, though smaller than a wolf should be. It was more grey and white, rather than the brownish-grey that the coyotes are. It could be a feral dog. Either way, it surely wasn’t tame as it spooked at the first sight of the car. So, it could be a wolf, but I’m not positive, and I hesitate to call it as such. It’s exciting, nonetheless.
Ever since I first visited Elk River during my interview trip in February 2010, I had a desire to get to the top of Elk Butte. After all, who could resist a lookout tower boasting 3000 foot views? The only problem was finding a suitable way to get up there. While the maps show a road to the summit, descriptions also warn that the summit is not accessible by car. Most people reach the summit by four-wheelers in the summer and snowmobiles in the winter. I had read that it was a 7-mile one-way trip, which ruled out a day trip for my hiking abilities.
Two weekends ago, during a scouting mission to the Morris Creek Cedar Grove, I decided to drive the roads on the mountain to see just how far I could get. It turns out, you can drive to within 3 miles of the summit. Running low on time, I decided to come back to explore this hike and bring some friends along. That’s what I did this past weekend.
Many of my friends have been out to the falls, but have never gone into the town of Elk River, let alone ventured back to the grove of big trees. So I took them back to see the Giant Cedar where they were amazed at the size of the tree. We also had some fun identifying wildflowers in bloom. Since we got a late start, we skipped the Morris Cedar Grove and headed straight to the mountain.
The hike is 2.8 miles one-way on a gated road, thus the terrain is open on a well-defined path. The first half of the hike is completely open though a clear-cut. This patch is recovering with a nice cover of bushes and small trees creating a great habitat for birds. It also opens up the slopes to views of surrounding mountains. About a mile in, we reach a spot where we can see the summit. It’s tempting to hike stright up, but it’s certainly easier to walk the extra distance around to the other side. After this point, we re-enter the national forest and into a nice forested patch of hemlock and spruce with a dense understory of huckleberry. Based on the number of flowers on the huckleberry bushes, I think we may have a good year this year. During the last mile, the incline steepens as you gain about 500 feet to reach the tower.
An 80-foot fire tower stands on the summit of Elk Butte, however the cabin at the top is not accessible to the general public. A lower cabin at 30 feet is accessible by a stairway. Though the interior is locked, visitors can stand on the deck and look down at the town of Elk River 3000 feet below. There are theoretically veiws in all directions, but this requires you to lean around the cabin to see what is toward the north.
Elk Butte sits in an ideal location, central to viewing some prominent landmarks around north-central Idaho. To the north, you’ll view the meadow-covered slopes of Freezeout Saddle. To the east, you’ll notice some high peaks beyond Dworshak Reservoir. These belong to the Mallard-Larkins area. Some of the other high landmarks require a clear day. To the southeast, you might see some snow-covered peaks on the horizon belonging to the Bitterroot mountains. To the south, behind the camas prairie is the snow-capped Gospel Hump. A little bit further west, the Seven Devils rise above the horizon, and beyond that, the Wallowas may be visible on a really clear day. To the West, you’ll gaze over the Palouse with Moscow Mountain as the first major feature on the north end.
Elk Butte sits among active logging territory, so the scenery is dotted with patches of mature and cut forest. This can detract from the overall beauty, but remember, the logging operations sustain the economy of the region and also help in the conservation of some other special places. If you can look past the massive deforestation, you can get lost in the sheer number and size of the mountains. You’re truely at the edge of civilization.
If hiking to the summit, the trail is accessible by car on well-maintained logging roads. If four-wheeling to the summit, there are trails that take off from the base of the mountain. This can easily be combined with a trip to the cedar groves and the falls for a full-day or weekend visit at Elk River. Be sure to stop at the general store for some huckleberry ice cream. We unfortunately got there too late on this trip. For a map and directions to the trailhead, view my trip report here.
I think I’ve mentioned before that there are a number of cedar groves, stands of old-growth Western Red Cedar, nearby. I’ve already posted about the Hobo Cedar Grove out near Clarkia and Grandfather Mountains. Several times I’ve been to the Giant Cedar out near Elk River. On our way into Idaho when I moved out here, Erin and I stopped at the DeVoto Cedar Grove along Rt. 12. There is a cedar grove on Moscow Mountain, but I haven’t been up there to explore it yet. The last one that I know of in the immediate area is also near Elk River on the way to the Giant Tree. Its the Morris Creek Cedar Grove, recently renamed the Perkins Cedar Grove.
To get there, follow the North Basin road out of Elk River as if you were going to the Giant Tree. There will be a left turn with a sign for the Perkins Cedar Grove a few miles up. Turn here and follow this road, keeping right at all intersections. You will rise above 4000 feet to a parking area along Morris Creek. The trail through the cedar grove is short, only a half mile, but it looks as though it sees far fewer people than either the Giant Tree or the Hobo Cedar Grove.
My first impression was that this is a nice patch of forest, but the trees aren’t nearly as large as the Hobo Grove, but as I got further into the loop, I rescinded my thoughts. There are a number of impressive trees up here along with an understory of ferns, trillium, and calypso orchid. It’s a very nice stroll through the woods, but nothing challenging. I would pair this with the Giant Tree and the falls for a complete day in Elk River.
Old growth forests are rare to come by these days. If they haven’t been logged by the lumber companies, many stands have burned due to years of fire suppression causing massive wildfires to erupt. It’s really nice to walk through stands of trees so old, they were standing long before Europeans came to America. There are four such stands that I know of within two hours of Moscow. There are a few more farther afield. I had been meaning to check out this grove since we arrived in Idaho almost two years ago. We’d always time our trips to the big tree such that we’d be hungry right after, so we had always passed up the extra trip to the Morris grove. Last year, the road was closed for construction, so we were unable to get to the grove. Finally, I made it a point to go up there and check it out. I’m glad I did.
Things don’t always go according to plan. Along the journey, you discover new interests or find obstacles that end up providing you with a totally different experience than originally expected. This lesson was hard hit this weekend as we attempted a backpacking trip in the Blue Mountains of southeastern Washington. The trip was a success, but certainly not what I had expected.
It’s really a lesson in not getting enough information ahead of time. On paper, it looked like the perfect trip. It’s a 16-mile loop up Panjab Creek to the Mt. Misery Trail on top of the canyon ridge. The campsite is a place called Table Camp, located on maps with a spring just a mile before Oregon Butte. The return is via Turkey Creek which merges with Panjab Creek to complete the loop. Seems simple.
The weather was already looking sketchy. The forecast called for cloudy skies and 40% chance of snow on Saturday and 30% chance of snow and rain on Sunday. But the highs were in the 50’s and lows right around, but still above freezing. But that had been the weather for the past week, and that generally meant an hour or two of precipitation followed by sunshine. We decided to go for it.
On Saturday morning, 7 of us left Moscow and headed toward the Blue Mountains. Two more would come later and meet us at the campsite. The drive in was relatively straightforward. The campgrounds along the Tucannon River were packed, but there was plenty of parking at the trailhead. The Panjab Creek trail follows the creek for about 3.5 mile through some beautiful forest. Highlights include a stand of Pacific Yew, tons of wildflowers, and the sound of the rushing creek. The next two miles become a little steeper as the trail switchbacks up the side of the canyon, topping out in a large meadow full of Grass Widow. At this point, we have risen about 2000 feet with only a couple hundred more to go. The last three miles are fairly gentle along the ridge, with fallen trees as the only major obstacle. There is some snow up there, but not so much to make the trip miserable.
Eight miles and 5 hours later, we reached table camp only to find that there was considerably more snow on the mountain slopes than I had anticipated. The spring that was supoosed to be near the camp was nowhere to be found, either no longer active, or burried deep beneath 3+ feet of snow. We made camp anyway because we were all too tired to move on. There was another spring on the map a half-mile ahead attached to a creek. I had hopes that maybe this one would be more reliable. So I set out with a small search party, but after a painful expedition, we came back without water. We hadn’t planned on dry camping. Luckily there was an abundance of snow surrounding us, and the firewood supply was neverending, so we were able to melt snow without using up our stove fuel. Melting snow for 9 people is a slow process, but its better than going without water.
It didn’t rain on us at all on Saturday, though the sky remained overcast. That was alright. We could still see out to the Wallowas and it wasn’t too hot or too cold. In fact, it never really got too cold at night. I suspect there had been an inversion where we had the warmer air on the ridge while all the people car camping along the river had the chill. The wind wasn’t even blowing, so in all, it was a very pleasant evening.
I’m not sure what time I actually awoke, but I’m told it was before 6:00 am. There was actually blue sky and it looked like the sun might peak through the clouds. Tyler and Genevieve were up shortly after and we started a fire and made ourselves breakfast. There was no sign of movement from any of the other tents. So after waiting, Tyler and I decided we’d make a go for the summit without packs. The worst of the climb was at the beginning. The snow was slick and a few of the slopes were steep. But when we reached the top of the ridge, there was actually a strip of bare rock. From there, we could see up the last ridge to the summit of Oregon Butte where the lookout cabin stood. There was a cornice at least 10 feet high, but again, the ridge back was baren of snow.
At almost 6400 feet, the view on Oregon Butte is amazing, and the photographs provided don’t even do it justice. The drop down to the rivers below is about 3000 feet. The landscape is bigger and more rugged than it looks on the map (or Google Earth). It’s probably even more impressive on a clear day, though even with the clouds and the haze, we could still make out the high peaks of the Wallowas and the Seven Devils. I imagine that the snow will melt in the next few weeks and the butte will be available as a dayhike from Teepee. I should like to return.
When we returned to camp, everyone else was up and finishing breakfast. After discussing the prospects of finishing the loop though the high elevation snows, we concluded that it would be best to just turn around and hike back the way we came. As we left camp, the sun came out and remained with us for the rest of the day. When we reached the trailhead, the temperatures had risen to a balmy 65 degrees. I was bushed by the end of the hike. I’ve never come out of a trip that sore before, and I’ve hiked longer trips with longer days. I attribute it to being out of shape from the winter. Nevertheless, I feel that the first backpacking trip of the 2012 season was a success, and I’m already looking forward to the next one.
I was left home alone this weekend. Erin had gone down to Boise and Ontario, OR for a regional meeting of one of the support groups she attends. She was also taking Lana down to Boise to be transported to her new home with a trainer in Wyoming. So while she was gone for three days, I was in charge of watching the animals. This unfortunately meant I couldn’t go out for any extended trips. No backpacking. No camping.
So I did what any responsible adult would do when he’s got the house to himself: I threw a party. Well, not a kegger or anything huge. I invited the remaining Biology graduate students out for a cook-out and fire. It was a blast. I’ve got to do this more often. I think everyone enjoyed getting out of Moscow for the evening, too.
But back to the hikes. Saturday turned into a hike followed by a cook-out and fire. A few people came out early and we headed to Elk Creek Falls. One of the new post-docs and her husband had just arrived and this was their first excursion out of town. It was a nice day to go to the falls. The hill sides were still green and the water was raging. The vegetation in front of the lower falls overlook had been chopped back so there was a clear view. I’ve been to Elk Creek Falls many times now, and yet I don’t have any photos posted online. How can that be?
Today, I took the dogs on a longer hike. Tyler, Gen, and Matthieu went for a hike on the Feather Creek loop last weekend, and I wanted to check it out for myself. This trail isn’t very well publicized, which might be why I had a hard time figuring out where it was on my own. I heard about it from Mattheiu, who in turn found out about it from the guys at Hyperspud Sports in town. The five-mile loop isn’t very scenic. There are no views and no landmark points of interest. It’s just a trail that follows a creek for two miles, and then returns through the woods.
What it lacks in major attractions, it makes up for in the little things. At first, it seemed like this was going to be a hike through recently logged / newly regenerating forest. While it’s certainly not old growth or as mature as the forsest surrounding Elk Creek Falls, but it becomes a nice woodland hike. The first thing I noticed were the flowers. Along the creek, there were tons of Western Trillium and Anemones in bloom. As the trail left the creek and ascended the hillside into the woods, the Calypso Orchids became more abundant.
The trail meandered back into a hollow where it crosses a few streams. Here the forest is full of larger trees, mostly cedar with some pines and firs. And then I stumbled upon a strange mushroom that looked like coral. Suddenly, I began to see it growing everywhere. A few steps farther down the trail, I noticed another mushroom, this one bright orange and shaped like a bowl. The final fungal find of the day were morrells, five in total. This was my first ever sighting of morrells in the wild. I’ve marked the spot on the GPS in hopes that I can return and collect some for cooking with.
Feather Creek is a five-mile loop through a nice mix of riparian and forest habitats. Though there are no major destinations along the trail, it provides a nice escape from the developed world and provides a couple hours of relaxation and feeling of solitude. Because its not well publicized, you’re likely to have this trail to yourself. This appears to be a promising wildflower and flora hike, but also seems like a promising place for wildlife sightings. There was plenty of bird activity, though I admit to not taking the time to try and identify everything I heard and saw. The trail is fairly new and appears to be well maintained. It’s not very steep and there’s not much elevation change, making it an easy hike for a family. There is a longer loop that takes off up the ridge, though the sign at the beginning claims this trail hasn’t been completed yet.
Feather Creek is located a few miles north of Bovill. To get there, travel north on Rt. 3 about 4 miles from Bovill. Turn left onto Talapus Creek Road. There will be a sign for the Feather Creek trail. Continue for a mile and turn right onto Feather Creek Road. The trailhead has a sign about 1.7 miles up.
The photo above was taken in February of 2010, my first visit to Asotin Creek. I’ve been back a couple of times as it is usually a reliable winter hike that is free of snow. I had never gone down in the spring when everything is green, and certainly not in the summer when temperatures can reach the 100 degree mark. So it was that Erin and I decided to spend a day down at Asotin Creek. The local wildflowers should be in bloom, and the hills might show hints of colors other than the drab brown of dried grass. We would also take the GPS and search for geocaches hidden along the trail. There are many.
So, we set out for the canyon, stopping in Clarkston to grab some food for Erin. We pulled off at the Headgate County Park to grab a few caches and let the dogs out to stretch their legs. As we approached the wildlife management area, I saw signs that a Discovery Pass was required in order to park. Washington has recently begun charging for vehicle access to its state recreation lands, and the Asotin Creek trailhead falls under this juisdiction. A day pass is $10, and an annual pass is $30. I certainly wasn’t going to pay that much for a day trip, and I don’t visit the state lands enough to justify a $30 pass.
During the winter, there is a gate across the road just before the trailhead, kept closed to keep cars out during the mating season. The gate is opened in the spring and summer, which allowed us to drive past the trailhead, through the state land, and into the national forest. Here the road climbs out of the canyons and into the high country (5000 ft.) where there are more trees and more green grass, and subsequently more wildflowers. The meadows were full of Grass Widow, Yellow Bells, Mountain Bluebell, and even the occasional paintbrush had started to bloom. As much as I like the desert-like habitat down in the canyons, the upper elevations are really my favorite place to be. Of course, the the best part of being up top is the view.
When we reached the top, I pulled off the road onto a flat clearing with a view over the Asotin Creek canyon. Nearby, someone was burning and that had produced a thick haze over the mountains, but the view was still magnificent. I thought that this would make for a great campsite, and then I found a fire ring from someone else’s previous visit. We explored the meadow, looking at the wildflowers and then ate lunch.
We were really after a trail that traversed Pinkham Ridge. If we weren’t going to hike in Asotin Creek, we might as well hike above it. The Pinkham Ridge trail is really the top of the Asotin Creek trail, for after the trail heads upstream about 10 miles, it turns and heads up the steep canyon walls to Pinkham Ridge where it ends at a Forest Service road where we had parked. This last portion of the trail hasn’t been hiked very much and it certainly hasn’t been maintained. There’s no signs at the trailhead, and the trail itself seemed to have blended back in with the scenery. However, the brush and forest isn’t very thick and the grasses are short, so walking in this area isn’t too difficult, especially since the trail follows a narrow ridge. However if you were to come up this way, be sure to at least carry a map, but a GPS might be useful too.
We hiked just under 2 miles down the ridge to a little shelf and clearing, and there we laid out a blanket and napped in the tranquility above the canyon. We saw Mountain Bluebird and Stellar’s Jays and listened to the songs of the Chipping Sparrow, Chickadees, and nuthatches. So, what began as a disappointment turned out to be an awesome adventure. Next time, we can prepare for a full day in the Blue Mountains and just skip Asotin Creek altogether.
This past weekend, we had a nice day on my day off for once. So I took advantage of the sunshine and warm weather to get out and hike. Or so I thought.
I’ve been waiting to take my snowshoes out for a real winter trek, and the timing has been bad. I set my sights on the Gold Center trail, which leaves at the base of the mountains behind Clarkia and climbs its way up to the ridge just below Grandmother Mountain. I’ve always wanted to hike this trail, and winter seems like the best time to do this since the trailhead at Freezout Saddle is inaccessible.
The road out was rough as the snow was wet and almost slushy, but my Subaru made it with no trouble. Due to the past few days being so warm, I was expecting some dense, heavy snow that is fairly easy to walk on. But I found that while the snow was heavy, it was still very much unpacked, and even in snow shoes, I was having a tough time walking. Perhaps I should have brought the extra flotation tails with me after all, or perhaps I’m just woefully out of shape.
Deary has almost no snow left. Moscow and Pullman are dry. But Clarkia still has 2-3 feet, and the mountain elevations were getting fresh snow when we had rain at the bottom. That seemed promising. But I didn’t get out until after 1:00, so I had given up on making it to the ridge on this trip. I hadn’t expected the walk to be so difficult that it took me an our to go one mile on flat terrain.
Nevertheless, the snowy forest was beautiful, and my tracks were the first on this trail. Even the snowmobiles hadn’t gone this far in. The idea of getting to the summit of Grandmother Mountain in winter is somehow in reach, aided by the longer days. Still, it’s a 5+ mile, 3000 ft. ascent, so we’ll see. If I can float better on the snow, I may be able to endure the full 10 miles in one day. Otherwise, it may be summer challenge.
I’ve been very busy with graduate school, and that has put hiking and exploring on hold, but that also has me itching to get out, especially as my days of decent hiking weather grow shorter and shorter. I’ve been trying to get up to Sandpoint to get in one last snow-free summit for the season, but time just hasn’t been on my side. So this weekend, I headed up to Grandfather Mountain with Erin for what might be our last chance to get up there this year.
I’ve been to Grandmother Mountain many times since moving out here, but each time, we get started late or take too much time exploring the trail to make it all the way to Grandfather. This time, we skipped Grandmother altogether and set Grandfather Mountain as our goal. Grandfather is exactly 4 miles from the trailhead (according to the GPS), and the first half of the hike covers the same familiar ground that we’ve hiked time after time. Regardless, I never tire of the scenery along the trail. At 6000 feet, the views are incredible, and even though the mountains aren’t that big for this area, they’re still impressive. And then there’s the thrill of seeing it differently every time. For example, when we first discovered this trail last September, summer was ending and fall was just staring so we had a hike full of late-summer flowers and huckleberry bushes turning red. In July, Spring was kicking off with a magnificent show of color and wildflowers. On this hike, a fresh two-inches of snow had fallen the night before and we laid witness to the mountain’s transition from fall to winter. Luckily, we were still able to get to the trailhead.
So we made it through the first half of the hike as usual, but stopping less often. But at the spur to Grandmother Mountain, we turned left and continued along the ridge. Not long after, we came across a perfect campsite next to a spring under the canopy of the old-growth forest. Then the forest became a bit younger and denser, but nevertheless, it was great to walk through a forest instead of through open fields and patches of trees. Although it had snowed the night before, when the sun came out, the air felt pretty warm and we could feel the snow melting around us. Steam rose up from the ground encasing the ridge top in a thin cloud. When the sun would shine through, we would catch the rays bouncing off the mist.
Eventually, we ascended out of the forest and into a clearing at the summit of Grandfather Mountain. The views are pretty, but not quite as open as they are on Grandmother Mountain. Still, there’s fewer ridges to block the valley to the north and there’s a different perspective looking back where we came from to the south. So while Grandmother Mountain may be taller and have the better views, it’s still worth making the extra 3-mile (round trip) trek to Grandfather Mountain, if anything for a nice walk through the ridge-top forest.
The West Fork Wallowa River Valley from the Lakes Basin Trail
A year ago this weekend, I set foot in Oregon for the first time and explored one of its most beautiful and least advertised mountain ranges. Last year, we only got a preview of the Eagle Cap Wilderness in the Wallowa Mountains, only able to stay one night. So this year, I arranged the backpacking trip for Labor Day Weekend, which let us spend 3 nights in the wild and explore more of the area. I rarely return to the same place for a second trip as there is so much around to explore, but then, there is the trade-off. Is it better to see a little bit of everything, or thoroughly explore one place?
And so it was, I returned to the Eagle Cap Wilderness with Tyler and we brought Tyler’s fiancee, Genevive, and Tom Poorten, two newcomers to this wilderness. Of course, Rusty and Shadow came as well. Since we couldn’t all fit comfortably into one car, we took two and hiked a shuttled one-way route, hiking up Hurricane Creek to Mirror Lake and heading out down the West Fork of the Wallowa River. This route is a much longer way into the lakes basin than last year’s Lostine River trail, but it’s also the easiest way in, especially when the 12 miles to Mirror Lake are broken up into two days. And that’s just what we did.
Originally, we were to start hiking around 6 or so and hike for about four miles and find camp. But as usual, we were late leaving Moscow and we got into Enterprise at 7. After parking a car at the Wallowa Lake trailhead in Joseph and shuttling over to Hurricane Creek, we got our start on the trail well after dark had fallen. We hiked for an hour, just shy of two miles, before finding a spot in the meadow to make our first camp. Friday night was cold, so cold in fact that we not only had a frost, but I woke up with ice in my water bottle. Temperatures remained near freezing through the morning until the sun had risen high enough to hit the valley floor. We ended up waiting long enough to let the sun warm us up and dry the tents before heading up the valley.
The Hurricane Creek valley is magnificent. The entire trip is a gentle upward slope, rising about 2000 feet over 10 miles while surrounded by giant peaks rising upwards of 4000 feet into the sky. We woke up with a grand view of Sacajawea, the highest peak in the range. I must say it looks quite different without snow covering its rocky summit. After passing the giant mountain, we’re introduced to the white cliffs of Matterhorn, which due to its more vertical nature, looks even more impressive. The terrain is a mix of open meadow and forest, but nothing nearly as wide open as the upper Lostine River valley. Still, the diversity of terrain and scenery makes this trail almost more scenic than any of the other approaches. After hiking 10 miles in the valley, the trail climbs up one of the back walls via a series of gentle switchbacks and descends into the Lakes Basin area. The summit of Eagle Cap becomes visible and excitement washes over with the prospects of finally getting to the lake. Though the trail was relatively easy, we were quite bushed from hiking 10 miles uphill and quite glad to set up camp on the rocks with a great view of Eagle Cap and Mirror Lake.
Saturday night was much warmer, as expected. In the fall, mountains experience a temperature inversion from day to night where the cool temperatures fall into the deep vallies and the warm temperatures rise to the high elevations. As a result, we had a very pleasant night by Mirror Lake. In fact, after eating dinner and packing away the food, we sat out on the rocks looking at the stars.
We spent a relaxed Sunday morning enjoying the area around Mirror Lake. Originally, we had tenative plans to hike up to the summit of Eagle Cap, return and pack up camp and move about 3-4 miles down to Horseshoe Lake and hike out the last 9 miles on Monday. However, we were still tired from our 10 miles of hiking on Saturday, so we decided that a summit of Eagle Cap would have to happen on another trip. Then, pressed with the option of camping at Horseshoe Lake or continuing on into the Valley for a shorter hike out on Monday, we decided it would make more sense for the latter option so that we weren’t getting home super late. Regardless, we left our camp at Mirror Lake around noon and headed down along the lakes, taking short breaks at Moccasin, Douglas, Lee Lakes. We stopped for a long lunch at Horseshoe Lake and found a great jumping rock to plunge into the cold water. Surprisingly, Horseshoe Lake wasn’t too cold and the swim was quite refreshing for a hot day.
Mirror Lake is definitely the desired destination in the Eagle Cap Wilderness. It’s one of the higher lakes, is centrally located, and sets you up for a nice summit trip to Eagle Cap. But Mirror Lake is also quite popular, and the prime campsites near the water are almost always taken quite early. Despite the popularity, it is easy to find a place that is somewhat secluded and gives the impression that you’re not camping among a crowd. But the other lakes have their advantages too. They are quieter, they have more trees around them, they’re better for fishing, and they have some really awesome campsites. You can be certain to have privacy at these lakes, and still have world class views of the high peaks. The peninsula on Horseshoe Lake offers spectacular views of Pete’s Point and Sentinel Mountain, and from certain angles, you can also glimpse Eagle Cap. Horseshoe is still at 7000 feet, but as the last lake in the chain, it is warmer and more eutrified than the lakes uphill from it. In fact, there are a few nice marshy areas along the trail that look like great amphibian habitat. The water is still clear, and the lake is still deep. But there are likely to be more fish in there than at Mirror Lake.
After Horseshoe Lake, the trail drops into the valley of the West Fork Wallowa River. This descent, while not strenuous, is about 3 miles that would be a steeper incline in the other direction than any incline on the Hurricane Creek Trail. I’m certainly glad we chose the direction that we did. Shortly after the descent began, we came upon a rocky shelf looking over the valley. Convinced there was a view to be had, I dropped my pack and ran out to the rocks. Sure enough, there was a magnificent view of the back valley. The Wallowa River valley is a classic glacially-carved U-shaped valley about 3000 feet deep and maybe a mile wide at the base. The views we got from this rock were like those you’d get at a national park. It was glorious. The trail opens up again a few more times on the way down before reaching the valley floor at Six Mile Meadow. There is good camping at the meadow, six miles from the trailhead, but it proved to be a popular site, so we pressed on to see if we could find anything else nearby. Turns out, much of the Wallowa River valley is forested, unlike Hurricane Creek, and camp sites are few and far between. We ended up camping three miles farther at the intersection with the Ice Lake trail. This put us at a second 10-mile day, but would afford us the luxury of sleeping in a bit and only hiking out about 3 miles on Monday.
Sunday night was colder than Saturday night at the lake, but not as cold as Friday with the frost. We built a fire in the fire pit and sat around to keep warm during dinner. The morning was also cold, but not nearly as bitter as our first morning, so we were able to get moving fairly early. We ended up leaving camp around 9 and getting to the car well before noon. We celebrated with a post-hike beer and lunch at the Terminal Gravity Brew Pub in Enterprise, a well deserved treat after two back-to-back 10-mile days of hiking and three nights in the wilderness. Although I was sad to leave such a beautiful landscape, I was glad to be back in the comfort of my bed, take a break from hiking, and have a hot shower.
The Eagle Cap Wilderness is one of the most beautiful and special places I have been to, and that’s one of the reasons I keep returning. This will certainly not be my last visit or backpacking trip in the Wallowas as there are so many more places within these mountains to see and explore. I hope we can keep up this tradition and next year, I’ll get to report on the third annual Eagle Cap Wilderness backpacking adventure.
The past week, my parents were in town visiting and we spent the week exploring and showing them our favorite places in the area. We’d usually leave fairly early in the morning and get back kinda late, always exhausted. As a result, I haven’t been able to post some detailed updates on the awesome places that we’ve been. I’ll try to summarize the week here.
Saturday, July 23: Picked my parents up from the Lewiston airport. Turns out, there was some kind of airplane festival going on so we decided to have a look. There were planes out on the tarmack for people to check out, mostly navy planes, but still neat to see them up close. It was hot and out in the open, so we didn’t stay long. We had lunch in Lewiston before making the scenic drive back to our house.
Sunday: We started out the morning hiking the Potlatch River Trail near Little Boulder Creek in Helmer. It’s the little 5.5 mile loop behind us. We did the whole loop and it was much easier than the last time when there was still snow on the trail. We spent the afternoon in Moscow taking care of some shopping and other errands to prepare for the rest of the week.
. This is a great place to bring the family. It’s a short walk from the parking area to the “mine” where $10 gets you the privilage to sift through dirt and sand looking for the prized star garnet. Emerald Creek is one of two places in the world to find star garnets, the other being a place in India. We came home with some nice garnet pieces and later in the week, took them to the local rock shop to have them looked at. Turns out, we had a couple of star garnets, one of which was nice enough to cut into a pendant. After rock hunting, I took everyone to the Hobo Cedar Grove to walk among the awesome forest and big trees.
Tuesday: We went to Spokane to shop and explore the city. After dropping a friend off at the airport, we headed to Manito Park where the botanical gardens are and finally got to see them in full bloom. Then we headed ot REI where Erin traded in her hiking boots for another pair that should hopefully be more comfortable. Surprisingly, I was good on this trip and didn’t buy anything. Then we went downtown to check it out. I was interested in Huppins, the local camera and electronics shop. I was disappointed to find they were more of a TV and stereo dealer than a camera shop. Looks like the nearest pro photography store might be in Seattle. We had dinner at Anthony’s, overlooking the falls and finished the evening with a walk through Riverside Park. Did I mention that we saw a moose on the way into the city?
Wednesday: We had one “big” hike planned for the week, and for this trip, we kept it local and headed up to Freezeout Saddle. My initial goal was to hike to Lookout Mountain, but we ran into snow on the road that forced us to turn around and hike Grandmother Mountain instead. Last year, we hiked up there in early September and the area was showing signs of Autumn. Now, in late July, the area was showing signs of early Spring with tons of wildflowers in bloom including Beargrass! But what really surprised us was the ammount of snow up there so late in the season. I would expect a few patches here and there in some cool shady areas, but we were climbing over some good-sized mounds on the trail. The last push for the summit was nearly entirely on a snowfield under the trees. As a result, we stopped at Grandmother and did not continue to Grandfather Mountain on this trip. Nevertheless, that area is beautiful and quite awesome and a great place to go to beat the heat. I’m reminded that there’s such a short window to enjoy the high country between the time the snow melts enough to get up there and it becomes blocked off again by the next winter’s arrival.
Thursday: We can’t have visitors without taking them to Elk River. It’s such a neat place and so close that it’s impossible to pass up. We started at the Elk River Falls, hiking our usual route backward by starting at the lower falls and ending at the upper, giving the dogs a chance to swim in the pool below the upper falls before hiking back to the car. Then we stopped in the town itself to get some of their famous Huckleberry ice cream. Finally, we headed out to the giant cedar to show my dad… well… the giant cedar. Unfortunately, the road to the Morris Creek Cedar Grove has been closed all season for construction, so it looks like we’ll have to wait until next year to check it out.
Friday: We took a down day, spent the morning at home, and the afternoon in Moscow walking around town since most of the shops were closed on Sunday when we were in. We had one last nice dinner at Nectar and then headed to Lewiston where my parents were spending the night to catch a 5:30 am flight the next morning. And thus concludes a week of exploring the sights of the Moscow area.
The hike to Stevens Lakes itsn’t particularly hard, but it’s no walk in the park either. It’s about 2.5 miles and 1700 feet of vertical gain to the upper lake on a well-used and well-mantained trail. It starts off relatively steep and continues to climb steadily for the next mile before levelling out briefly as the trail emerges from a beautiful forest into an open basin surrounded by walls several hundred feet high. Just atop the headwall, 350 feet up, is the first lake, and Willow Creek drains from Lower Stevens Lake to drop over this ledge with a series of amazing waterfalls. It is at the bottom of this drop that the trail crosses the creek to start the mighty ascent and final approach to the lake. The old trail used to route you straight up the incline, but a new trail routes you along a series of switchbacks across a talus field, but on this July day, we were crossing a fairly significant snow field. As the trail came back with the old route, the final switchbacks were also snow covered, but the snow was soft and kicking steps was quite easy. We passed a view of the upper waterfall, a beautiful 30-40 ft. drop, before levelling out atop the wall. It was not long before the lake came into view along with a seriese of campsites along the northern shore.
I was surprised to see so much snow at sub-6000 foot elevations this late into July, but the upper lake, only a few hundred feet higher, was still mostly frozen over. There was a warm sun, cool breeze, and not a sound from the developed world despite the close proximity to a major interstate. We had only hiked in a little over 2 miles at this point, but it felt like the middle of the wilderness. I was also surprised at how pristine the forest was on this hike. The land closer to the interstate had been logged, and is still being used for timber harvesting, yet the Stevens Lake trail saw none of it. Along with the snow, it was still early spring up there. The Glacier Lillies, Trillium, and Forget-me-nots were in bloom all over the place, and on the lower sections of the trail, I finally saw some Beargrass in full bloom.
Stevens Lakes are a popular camping spot, and it’s not hard to see why. It’s so relaxing with beautiful scenery but not a huge effort to get there. On this day, there were at least 3 groups camping for the night. There are also a handful of sites by the upper lake, but they were stilI burried under a couple feet of snow. In a few weeks, I may have to return and continue my hike up to Stevens Peak, an easy bushwhack to the ridge and a jaunt to the summit. I braved the snow and made it up to the upper lake for a few shots before turning back and descending to the car.
We finished the day with a dinner in Wallace.
There are many of these alpine lakes all over the mountains of the west. Many of them require long and strenuous hikes, but the reward is often worth it. But for families and non-hikers, the trip can be intimidating. Some of these lakes are accessible by car, but when you drive into one of these basins, you lose some of the magic and serenity. Some of the hikes are easy and require a difficult drive over primitive roads to start your hike in the high country. What makes Stevens Lakes so appealing is that it is easy to get to, right off of I-90, and the hike can be made for all levels. If you’re in shape, you can easily make it to the lakes in an hour and then continue up the ridges. If you’re slower, you can take all the time you want because it’s only 2 miles in. It’s a great way to spend a summer day and get to some great scenery.
