Extraordinary Oregon!

Well, it’s been awhile. During the height of the pandemic I wrote in this blog regularly, but of course as the pandemic receded I became very busy again. What have I been up to over the past three years? Working on a new guidebook, of course!

I published PDX Hiking 365 in 2018 and an updated edition of my first book Off the Beaten Trail in 2019, and then I took the rest of 2019 off. When the pandemic began here in Oregon in March 2020 I was beginning work on a new guidebook, which at the time I was calling The Oregon 100. I decided to put this project on hold during the height of the pandemic but by late summer 2020, I was itching to get back to this project. I made a trip to Central Oregon at the end of August 2020 to kickstart the project. Here’s a photo from my hike along Tam McArthur Rim to No Name Lake:

Over the course of the winter months of 2020 into 2021, the project began to take shape. I decided that the Oregon 100 sounded too much like a list of influential people, and I decided to rename this project Extraordinary Oregon! When spring rolled around and I had a week off from my day job, work began on this project in earnest. More than just a book project, this was an excuse to visit places I had always dreamed about. During this trip in March 2021 I was finally able to visit Crack In The Ground:

Not long after this I was also finally able to visit Kentucky Falls, deep in the Oregon Coast Range. Finding this place tested my nerves and my route finding ability, but it was even more spectacular than I had ever dreamed it would be:

From this point I worked on Extraordinary Oregon! for the last 2 years almost without stopping. When I wasn’t out hiking and researching, I was writing, editing photos, making maps, and researching the history of every hike in this book. I visited many extraordinary places, some of which I had wanted to visit since I first began hiking as a child growing up in Salem. One place that meant a lot to me in particular was the Illinois River in southern Oregon, a river that shares a name with the river near which my family has lived in Illinois for more than 200 years. Here’s what Oregon’s Illinois River looks like:

I was also finally able to visit the Owyhee Canyonlands at long last. While a lot of bad weather prevented me from exploring this area to the extent I had hoped, I was still able to visit the famed Leslie Gulch, which exceeded even my wildest expectations:

Over the course of the past three years since I began working on Extraordinary Oregon!, I hiked about 2,000 miles and drove nearly 15,000 miles in Oregon alone. Most of these trips were done solo, completely by myself. Over the past three years, I’ve had a lot of time to think about the meaning of this project as I drove all over every corner of Oregon again and again and again.

This book is dedicated to my favorite place, the place I call home: Extraordinary Oregon. I am please to share this project with you. I can’t wait for all of you out there to experience this extraordinary place as I did.

Thank you for reading, and thank you for your support.

Matt

Demaris and Camp Lakes - July 2019

We don’t go backpacking very often. For those of you who follow my writing and my hikes, this might be hard to believe. But my wife and I work very different work schedules (at least we did, before the pandemic), and getting away for a whole weekend can be a challenge for us. So when we do go backpacking, we try to make it somewhere special. Our only backpacking trip in 2019 was to Camp and Demaris Lakes, in the Three Sisters Wilderness. What a wonderful adventure this was!

Over the course of 2019, I made it a point to try and visit the Mount Jefferson and Three Sisters Wilderness Areas as much as possible. Starting in 2020 (at least, this the plan), many trailheads will require a limited entry permit, and all overnight trips will require a permit. As of this writing the details of this plan are still somewhat fluid, but you can follow along at this link. We wanted to make sure to get one more backpacking trip in the Three Sisters Wilderness before the permit system.

We initially looked into camping off-trail somewhere on the slopes of North Sister before deciding on Demaris Lake. I had never been to Camp Lake and I really wanted to make sure to get there before the permit system, but Demaris Lake looked inviting and not that crowded. This turned out to be the correct decision.

We spent the night before at Three Creek Lake, which was much busier than expected. The following morning we drove back through Sisters and down to the Pole Creek Trailhead, where we started the hike.

North Sister from the Pole Creek Trailhead.

The first few miles of the Pole Creek Trail pass through terrain recovering from the Pole Creek Fire. Indeed, the fire here in 2012 started not far from the trailhead. My buddy Keith was along for this trip, and he remembered the hike in being a “dusty hellscape” when he hiked through on the way to Middle Sister several years before. As it turned out., it wasn’t that bad:

The next few miles through the burn passed by pretty fast, as the trail was not all that difficult. A little over 3 miles from the trailhead, we abruptly left the burn and entered the friendly confines of a high mountain forest.

At 4 miles from the trailhead, the trail crosses the North Fork of Whychus Creek. I was expecting a difficult crossing, but it turned out to be pretty easy:

The trail meets the junction with the Demaris Lake Trail immediately after the crossing. Here, we turned left to hike down to Demaris Lake.

Up to this point we’d seen a lot of other hikers and climbers, but once on the trail down to Demaris Lake we didn’t see anyone. I guess it’s worth pointing out at this point that Demaris Lake does not enjoy the sparkling reputation that Camp Lake and the Chambers Lakes do. Pretty much the only thing I knew about Demaris Lake up to this point was this note in William L. Sullivan’s classic book 100 Hikes in the Central Oregon Cascades:

Demaris Lake is a somewhat closer goal. Though less spectacular, this lake is a good choice on days when wind or threatening weather make the Chambers Lakes uninviting. A sign at the North Fork of Whychus Creek indicates the 0.8 mile side trail. Round-trip distance from the Pole Creek Trailhead is 10.8 miles.

When we reached the lake, we found it to be quite pleasant. There was a somewhat obstructed view of South Sister from the head of the lake, and a few mediocre campsites. With a lot of time on our hands, we decided to circle the lake and look for the best campsite possible. We found exactly what we were looking for on the opposite side of the lake, where there is space enough for several tents. We set up camp and then took a nice long lunch. After lunch, it was time to go check out Camp Lake.

We made our way back to the main trail and began the final climb into the Chambers Lakes basin. The views began to open up south towards Broken Top:

North and Middle Sister towered over us, close at hand:

The last half-mile or so to Camp Lake seemed like it took forever, but we finally made it there. It was every bit as beautiful as I had heard:

Camp Lake

As he always does, Keith had to go swim in Camp Lake. I’ve never seen him pass up a chance to swim, and even though I could see snowdrifts on the far end of the lake, I knew he’d go for it.

Keith swimming in Camp Lake. He said it wasn’t as cold as it looked. I don’t believe him.

When he was done with his swim, the three of us went exploring a bit. Camp Lake is located at an elevation of around 7,000 feet so I wasn’t surprised to see snow all over the place still.

This snowbank is the South Fork of Whychus Creek. Keith actually crawled into the snow cave there. He’s a braver man than me!

Camp Lake was busier than I expected. It’s 7.5 miles into the lake, and many folks continue further into the basin. It looked cold and windy up there, and I was glad we were camped at Demaris Lake instead. We had to stop at the lakeshore before we left for more photos:

As we left, the photo lighting kept getting better and better. I have seen some truly spectacular photos of Camp Lake, and I’m sure it would have been amazing to be up there that night. But as I mentioned, it was also crowded, and it would have almost certainly been cold. I think we made the right choice.

Back at Demaris Lake, we had lots of time to explore. As it turned out, Demaris Lake sits in a small basin ringed by cliffs. Just 100 yards or so from our campsite we reached the edge of a cliff. From here, we turned and followed the cliffs a bit to an amazing view of South Sister:

I’m not sure what was blowing over South Sister, whether it was smoke or dust. This was a phenomenal view. We explored the cliffs up here for awhile, looking for a view, any view of the waterfall we could hear in the vicinity. We never found even an obstructed view of the falls. A friend of mine gave me directions for getting to the base of the falls, but that wasn’t in the cards for this evening.

We went back to camp and made dinner, and went to bed early, tired and happy.

The next morning I had every intention of sleeping in. Wendy woke up early, as she always does, and went down to the lakeshore. She came back to let me know that the sunlight was lighting up North Sister, visible across the lake. I hauled myself out of bed to take some photos:

We followed the trail back out to the cliffs, so we could see the morning light illuminate South Sister:

I could have spent a couple of days just exploring this little basin, looking for views and trying to make my way down to the base of the falls here. But as mentioned, we didn’t have any time left. So we packed up camp and hit the trail by 10AM. On our way out we stopped at the lake’s outlet again to marvel at the view of South Sister across the lake:

It was breathtaking. If I’m being honest, I know everyone loves Camp Lake, but I loved Demaris Lake even more. I would absolutely come back here and camp again, with more time to explore the area.

As it turned out, I ended up at the Pole Creek Trailhead again the next weekend…but that’s a different story for a different day.

Mack's Canyon - November 17, 2019

The Deschutes River downstream from Mack’s Canyon.

Like so much of the Deschutes River canyon, the stretch from Mack’s Canyon down to the lower reaches of the Deschutes River had long intrigued me. Over the years I’ve made it a habit of spending many of my winter days basking in the sunshine in the Deschutes canyon. Due to the long drive and supposed difficult access, I had never hiked Macks Canyon. In the few years before quarantine, I began to feel as though I had been everywhere (which of course is not true)…so I figured it was time to finally start exploring the places I had left unexplored.

I decided to organize a trip to Macks Canyon through the Adventurous Young Mazamas, with whom and for whom I lead hikes in saner times. I wasn’t sure what kind of group I would have who wanted to spend the entire day in a remote corner of the Deschutes canyon, but a lot of people signed up. We ended with a group of 8-9 folks ready to explore.

The drive into Macks Canyon was not nearly as difficult as I had been led to believe. We drove to Sherars Bridge and turned onto the 17 mile gravel road that follows the river north into its terminal canyon. The road was in excellent shape, with only a little rockfall and not too much washboarding. Every mile or two we would pass a campground or day use site, most of which were full of people. So it turns out this canyon is not as remote or little-known as I thought. We didn’t reach the end of the road until about 9:30 AM, but this still left plenty of time to explore. Although we had seen plenty of folks on our drive in, we were the only hikers on the trail.

Shortly after departing from the Macks Canyon Trailhead, we reached our first side canyon. The trail along the Deschutes River here is what remains of a railroad from the early 20th Century. The trestles are long gone, and hiking along this upper stretch requires scrambling down into gullies and then scrambling back out. There are trails through each of the gullies, but they are steep and crumbly. This first one wasn’t so bad:

Beyond this point, the old rail trail clings to the steep slopes above the river. Lower in the Deschutes Canyon the trail is a gravel road, but up here you’re walking on what’s left of the rail line.

Here is something you probably did not know about me: when I moved back to Illinois as a teenager, we didn’t have any hiking nearby to keep me distracted. We lived far out in the country, and I didn’t have a car or know how to drive. So instead, I walked the rail line near our house when I wanted to go for a walk. Trains used, and still use the line regularly. But I needed somewhere to walk.

Walking over railroad ties does not bother me in the slightest.

As we hiked further into the canyon, we passed over railroad ties, climbed over barbwire fence and picked our way in and out of side canyons. About 3 miles back, we passed an absolutely spectacular display of columnar basalt:

This was a basalt formation worthy of a thousand photos, and I marveled at how I had never seen a photo of it before. In many ways it reminded me of Giant’s Causeway in Northern Ireland, which I visited in 2008 with my friend Amy on my way home from my year in France:

Giant’s Causeway in Northern Ireland, July 2008.

Of course, it would be hard to imagine a place less like Northern Ireland than the Deschutes River canyon.

Anyway: after about 4.5 miles, we reached a rough spot in the canyon, at a deep gully tucked away in a river bend. We could see what appeared to be the end of the maintained trail on the far end of the bend, but it was already well past noon and we needed to turn around. What a wild place this was:

As we worked our way back upstream towards the trailhead, the daylight waned, presenting us with some wonderful photo opportunities:

The sun was already setting behind the canyon walls when we neared the trailhead, a reminder that November days are oh so short.

We reached the trailhead late in the afternoon, where we took a few minutes to explore a little more and bask in the sun. In November, you need to embrace sunny days…it might be a long while until you see another one.

I had grand plans for Mack’s Canyon for 2020, or at least the makings of grand plans. I was thinking about backpacking this canyon on my own in early spring; or I thought about doing this one-way downriver as a shuttle; or perhaps I would just come here and camp by myself for some peace and quiet. Now that COVID-19 has altered our plans, it’s hard to say if I will have that opportunity, even in fall. This would be a great place to socially distance, if you can find it.

When I’m out in a remote canyon somewhere, or out on a rugged ridge in the clouds, I often stop to just take it all in. Months or years later, when I am sitting on my computer at home, those feelings come back to me and I feel an immense gratitude for having had the experience…for having stopped, to appreciate how satisfied I was in the face of overwhelming beauty.

Thank you for reading.

Breitenbush Falls - July 8, 2018

It’s been a tradition for me to invite a group of friends hiking to celebrate my birthday for many years now (see my 2019 trip to Opal Creek Falls). The past few years I’ve tried to organize an off-trail waterfall hike, such as last year on the aforementioned trip to Opal Creek Falls. My birthday trips are a chance to explore, a chance to go see one of the wildest places on my bucket list, in the company of friends. This trip to a waterfall we’ll call Breitenbush Falls was one such adventure.

My friends Tim and Melinda seek out waterfalls with the passion of the most serious collector. Together they have discovered countless waterfalls, and changed what we thought we knew about the best and most beautiful waterfalls in the Pacific Northwest. Those of us who are privileged enough to know them feel grateful to be invited on one of their adventures. Sometime in 2017 or 2018, Tim and Melinda explored a side canyon on the north side of Mount Jefferson and came back with a fantastical story about a waterfall with a huge cavern behind it, where huge cedars grew almost into the falling water above. It sounded almost too good to be true, and I knew that I had to take them up on the offer when they invited me to join them on a return trip. I figured it would be great to make this my birthday hike for 2018. Good call!

The day begin on a trail I know and love. I was excited, so much so that I found myself hiking faster than the rest of my group - I’m still sorry about this, friends! It is true that sometimes excitement causes people to lose their sense of perspective, and I knew I had to slow down because in reality I wasn’t the leader of this particular trip. After a couple miles, Tim directed us off trail and down into the canyon.

Now, about “Breitenbush Falls” - if you know the Majestic Mount Jefferson Region, you have a fairly good idea of where this is. But as always when describing an off-trail location, I am not going to give directions or spend any time describing how to find this place. I can say that this is a different waterfall than Breitenbush Cascades - but beyond that, you’ll need to read between the lines and think about the Majestic Mount Jefferson Region to find this one.

After some time spent bashing our way downhill, Tim directed us around a narrow rock band and over some huge downed trees, until we could hear the sound of falling water. We carefully negotiated our way down a rocky slope, and around the corner the waterfall came into view. It was every bit as spectacular as advertised:

“Breitenbush Falls”

As mentioned above, the falling water has worn away a rocky cavern behind the falls, where cedar trees grow into the falling water. Unlike the caverns behind the falls at Silver Falls, the cavern here looked fairly unstable. It was not a place I wanted to linger:

Behind the falls

Looking through the trees into the falling water was almost an optical illusion, as it was very dark behind the falls and incredibly bright in the canyon beyond.

We carefully worked our way behind the falls and around the other side, where at last the full waterfall came into view:

We sat here at the base of the falls and shared summit beers - the summit of course being the base of the falls, a place few have ever visited. After lunch we explored a little further downstream, finding some neat photo compositions:

The day was getting hot, and we knew we had a steep climb out of the canyon ahead…but it was hard to leave:

On the way out we found the slopes steeper and looser than expected. As I said with Opal Creek Falls, I cannot recommend this to somebody who isn’t committed to wandering up and down steep, crumbly slopes and navigating extremely rough terrain.

Leaving the falls

Eventually we made our way back out of the canyon and onto the trail. When we got back to the trailhead, we decided to stop at one of my favorite spots on the road in to explore a little more, and cool off a little:

All in all, it was another wonderful day with friends in my favorite place. Thanks to everyone who came along that day, and thank you to all who enjoy reading about my adventures!

Aiken Lava Bed - July 18, 2019

Mount Adams is often visible on the horizon from Portland, seemingly floating on the clouds far beyond the Gorge. We don’t get there very often, even though it isn’t really that far from Portland. In truth, it’s no farther than Mount Jefferson is, but I didn’t grow up visiting Mount Adams and I didn’t write a guidebook about it as I did Mount Jefferson. So I’ve decided I need to visit more often.

I had been eyeing a loop around the Aiken Lava Bed on the south side of Mount Adams for a long time. The lava beds are geologically recent, dating back to sometime between 4,500 and 6,000 years ago. I had crossed the lava beds on a trip to Bird Creek Meadows in 2017, a memorable trip that was my first time on this side of Mount Adams. Accessing the south side of Mount Adams is tough; the roads to the South Climb and Bird Creek Trailheads are poor at best, and since the Cougar Complex Fire in 2015, Bird Creek Meadows has been closed for the vast majority of the time. So with a lot of free time last summer, I decided it was finally time to go check out the A.G. Aiken Lava Bed Loop.

The Snipes Mountain trailhead was surprisingly easy to find, and at 2 hours from my house, really not that far away. This area has been torched in multiple fires over the past dozen years or so, and signs of fire are everywhere. The trail climbs away from the trailhead and quickly begins following the lava bed through open forest, most of it burned. Some of this is wildly scenic:

The Snipes Mountain Trail follows the Aiken Lava Bed for miles.

That’s nice! A lot of the trail, however, looked like this:

Now, I’m not one to reject a trail just because it has long stretches of unpleasant terrain. I loved the Snipes Mountain Trail for its wild and rugged character, even as parts of it were fairly tedious and poorly-maintained. Wildflowers are thriving in the open forests in the wake of the fire. Here are three of my favorite specimens from the hike along the lava bed:

Scarlet gilia (aka Skyrocket) along the Snipes Mountain Trail, July 2019.

Asters along the Snipes Mountain Trail, July 2019.

Tiger lilies!

Occasionally the trail would grow faint, but never so much that I ever got worried. The trail mostly follows the lava bed, so all I really needed to do was keep the lava bed to my left.

After 5.5 miles or so of trudging up the mountain, I came to a gate that is supposed to keep cattle out the fabled meadows along Gotchen Creek:

I learned that this gate was not doing much, and that cattle were regularly seen in the meadows after the 2015 fire. Bummer. Now, about Gotchen Creek, something perplexing: my trail up was the Snipes Mountain Trail, which follows Gotchen Creek, while my return route was the Gotchen Creek Trail…which goes nowhere near Gotchen Creek. Sometimes I think we need to just start renaming almost everything in the outdoors.

Anyway, before long I came to Gotchen Meadows, where I stopped for an early lunch of dolmas, crackers and fruit. Mount Adams was hiding in the clouds, but soon they began to part, revealing the glory of Washington’s second highest peak:

Gotchen Creek Meadows, July 2019.

I carefully picked my way across the meadow, doing my best to leave as little of a trace as possible. With such overwhelming beauty, it’s hard not to be careless. But you must! Here Gotchen Creek meanders through boggy meadows, backed by Mount Adams. The mountain is the gift that keeps on giving, and this was another present I was delighted to unwrap. I spent much of my time at the horseshoe bend pictured above, and below:

But I sought out other shapes too as I followed the sinewy creek as best I could:

I’m not sure how long I spent at the meadow, but it was probably an hour. Time was wasting away and I still had many miles to cover. I seriously contemplated just turning around from here, so I could spend more time in the meadows…but nah, I couldn’t do that. I had a loop to complete!

Once I could say goodbye to the meadow, I continued uphill for another half-mile to the junction with the Round the Mountain Trail. The flowers in this stretch were fantastic:

The Snipes Mountain Trail meets the Round the Mountain Trail at the very edge of the Yakima Reservation. A right turn here will lead you in very little time to Bird Creek Meadows, one of the most beautiful places anywhere. There’s a sign at the junction welcoming hikers:

I need to turn left here, towards the South Climb Trailhead, to continue my loop. This next stretch of trail I had hiked before, as I had followed the Round the Mountain Trail on my trek to Bird Creek Meadows. At first the views of Mount Adams are spectacular, as it rises above the head of the lava bed:

Before long, however, the trail leaves the views of Mount Adams behind to cross the lava bed and its rocky ramparts. Instead you get views south to Mount Hood, a nice trade. The trail across the lava bed is neat in its own way:

The Round the Mountain Trail across Aiken Lava Bed.

I met the South Climb Trail some 2 miles from the Snipes Mountain junction. It was at this junction that I saw my first hiker of the day, who was headed east towards Bird Creek Meadows. He would not be the last person I saw all day. Over the next mile or so down to the South Climb Trail, I saw a few dozen folks trudging uphill with dreams of climbing Mount Adams (this is the primary route up the mountain). Many of them asked me if I’d been to the summit already; when I responded that I’d come from the east, up a lonesome valley, many of those same would-be climbs looked at me with a mixture of confusion and admiration. This is true back in Portland when I talk about Mount Adams; for many in the mountaineering community in the Portland area, the only time they’ve been to Mount Adams was to climb the mountain.

Some twenty minutes later, I wandered into the crowded and entirely unappealing South Climb Trailhead. I took a short break here to look at my map and read my directions. I was looking for the Cold Springs Trail, which would eventually take me to the Gotchen Creek Trail. It turns out the Cold Springs Trail is located on the far eastern end of the South Climb Trailhead, tucked away and not all that noticeable.

It also turns out the Cold Springs Trail has not received much, if any maintenance in quite some time. The next few miles were some of the most uncomfortable hiking I’ve had in some time, as long stretches of the trail were so faint I began to wonder if it would just disappear altogether. Here’s a nicer stretch:

The Cold Springs Trail, looking back towards Mount Adams, July 2019.

This was a less-nice stretch:

The Cold Springs Trail, July 2019. Somebody send in the trail crew!

Now, I’m not usually one to complain about trail conditions. I seek out faint and wild trails to explore, and to escape the crowds found on more well-known trails. But when you’re in mile 10 of a 15 mile loop, you happen to be alone and haven’t seen another hiker on your trail, and you begin to wonder if you will need to bushwhack over dead trees for miles to find your car…well, it’s enough to give a person some anxiety. Thankfully the trail mostly stayed where it was supposed to, and even when there was no tread, I was able to follow old cut logs in the faintest stretches. Eventually things got better.

After what seemed like an interminable descent, I finally met the Gotchen Creek Trail something like 13 miles into my hike. Here I turned left on a much wider and obvious trail, and hiked a mile to a signed trailhead in what seemed like a pretty random location. To be fair, a lot of the trails on Mount Adams feel like they are located in random locations. So all that was left was to walk roads for about a mile back to my car.

Not even 200 yards from my car, I came across a roadblock:

I don’t see cows very often on hikes, and these guys were blocking the route back to my car. So I had to yell and dance and jump up and down for about 30 seconds until the five or six cows got the idea and plunged into the brush. Not even 2 minutes later, I was back at my car, beaten up and happy to be done with my hike and desperate for some salty snacks and caffeine. It was a fascinating and long day full of surprises! I am not sure if I will ever do this loop again, but if nothing else I will definitely return to Gotchen Creek Meadows. There’s never a dull moment when you’re exploring Mount Adams…and I am hoping to do more of it this summer.

Distance: 15.1 mile loop

Elevation Gain: 3,061 feet

Drivetime from Portland: 2 hours each way

Here’s a map of my loop. For more information on this hike, see this link (which was also linked above).