PCT - Santiam Pass to (almost) Three Fingered Jack

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

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

Gotta get the "official" sign pic!

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

 

The beargrass was in great supply

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

Beargrass forest

 

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

Hayrick and Hoodoo Buttes through the trees

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

 

Mountain parade - Mt Washington and the Three Sisters

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

Looking towards Three Fingered Jack

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

 

Little trailside pond

 

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

A few lily pads

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

Happy to see new tree growth

 

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

 

Lots of little trees sprouting up in the burn area

 

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

A nice patch of lupine

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

Hoodoo Butte through the burned trees

 

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

Ghost trees

 

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

Hiking through snow - in July!

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

Three Fingered Jack view at our turn around point

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

Black Butte and a couple of lakes

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

Looking westward to another lake

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

 

Lupine brightens the forest floor

 

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

Dramatic clouds

 

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

 

Nice afternoon light on the beargrass

 

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

 

Beargrass everywhere!

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

More pics of the beargrass and forest

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

Mt Washington view down a beargrass-lined trail

 

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

Our lovely campsite at Marion Forks

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

 

Happy birthday to my hubby!

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

 

Canyon Creek Meadows (with a broken toe)

The evening after my Oregon Coast hike to Cape Falcon, I accidentally slammed my foot into a doorway at  home.  The toe next to my pinky caught the brunt of the impact and immediately swelled up, while the top of my foot turned black and blue.  Just like that, my weekend hiking plans went out the window.

%$##%^%^@^*&&^#$$%!!!

I hoped the toe wasn't broken, as I'd made big plans the following weekend.  Friday, I was driving to Bend, hiking Canyon Creek Meadows on the way, and Saturday I'd signed up to run a 6-mile trail race.

Reflections on Jack Lake

Of course the only way to tell for sure was an x-ray, but there really wasn't anything you could do whether it was broken or not.  So I vetoed seeing a doctor.  Instead, I limped around for a week, hoping things would magically get better.  Thursday night I saw some fabulous photos on a local hiking website from a recent trip to Canyon Creek Meadows.  The lupine was in full bloom and it looked incredible.  That did it.  Friday I was hiking there, sore toe or not!

Dew-spangled lupine

Canyon Creek Meadows is a beautiful alpine meadow at the foot of Three Fingered Jack Mountain.  Located on the eastern fringe of the Mount Jefferson Wilderness, it was barely outside the Whitewater wildfire's closure area.  This fire had been raging for two weeks, consuming vast portions of forest, with no sign of stopping.

Three Fingered Jack rises above an alpine meadow

So that mid-August Friday I woke up ungodly early and made the three-hour drive to Canyon Creek Meadow's trailhead at Jack Lake.  I drove by a very smoky Detroit Lake (which necessitated turning car headlights back on) and caught the fire crew's vehicle convoy heading out from their camp near Santiam Pass to the front lines of the Whitewater fire (I sent those brave folks good vibes and silent thank yous as they drove by).

Lotsa lupine in the upper meadows

I pulled into Jack Lake's parking lot at 8:30 sharp.  Being a weekday, there were only a few cars already.  Stuffing my feet into hiking boots, I noticed my swollen toe wasn't too happy about being confined.  Hoping it would loosen up as I walked, I shouldered my backpack and headed towards the trailhead.

The mountain, up close and personal

The trail started out following the shoreline of Jack Lake.  This tiny water body sat in an area that burned in a 2003 wildfire.  Ghostly silver dead trees rimmed it's shores, making nice reflections in the calm waters.  I stopped to take a few images before moving on.

Bands of color in the rock

I'd just passed the wilderness boundary sign when my foot started complaining.  Wedged into my boot, the sore toe was not happy.  I stopped to loosen my bootlaces, and while I was at it, downed a couple of ibuprofen.  Hopefully that would keep things under control for awhile.

Glacial cirque lake at TFJ base

The path climbed gradually, through an area of burned-out trees.  I spied a smoky outline of Mt Jefferson through their silver trunks.  I then passed through a lovely meadow of tiny lupine, their leaves spangled with sparkling dewdrops.

Magenta paintbrush

About two miles in, I came to a junction with the trail that led hikers to Canyon Creek's scenic meadows.  Crossing Canyon Creek, I could see Three Fingered Jack's outline rising above the trees.

Huge field of lupine

A little more climbing, a bit more wandering through several green meadows containing withered remnants of what looked to have been an impressive wildflower bloom.  Then I climbed a ridge, trekked through a forest, and came out into the grand meadow I remembered from my last visit five years ago.  Three Fingered Jack rose like a wall above the forest.  Lupine bloomed in the green meadow.  A calendar-worthy shot!  It looked like something you'd see in Switzerland.  (Although there's no photographic evidence, I did have a "Sound of Music" moment)

So.much.lupine!

But the best was yet to come.  Traversing the wonderful alpine scene, I passed through another grove of trees, and on the other side was a huge meadow right below Three Fingered Jack.  And it was chock-full of lupine.

Smoke begins to obscure the mountain

Wow!  Best lupine bloom this year!  But Three Fingered Jack loomed above, beckoning.  From my previous visit, I knew there was a pretty glacial cirque lake in the gravelly moraine at it's base.  I really wanted to see that first, so I decided to climb up the moraine.

Colorful meadow

It was a tough climb.  The loose gravel was treacherous.  I'd take one step up and slide a half step back.  I had to be careful my footing, as some of the rocks would slide out under my feet.  It was kind of like climbing on a slope of ball bearings.  At one point, I slipped and landed hard on my knees.  But I picked myself up and kept going.  Finally, I found myself on top of the moraine.  I rested, had a snack, and enjoyed the views of the tiny lake nestled in between the moraine and the mountain.  It was still mostly covered in snow. 

Time for your close-up!

Although the views were fabulous from this high perch, the weather was not.  Strong winds buffeted the mountain, blowing silt in my face.  Although I'd been lucky to have clear skies thus far, I began to smell smoke.  The northern skies started looking hazy.  As I was beginning to climb down, a band of smoke began to drift into the area, darkening the air and ruining my view of Three Fingered Jack.

Lots of butterflies

My sore toe had been behaving itself thus far.  I don't know if the ibuprofen finally kicked in or it became numbed by the walking, but it wasn't bothering me much.  Then, as I was descending the moraine, both feet slid out from under me.  I came down hard on my bad foot.  That inured toe took the entire impact.  I could feel it wrenching under me, moving in a way toes aren't supposed to move.

I couldn't talk, couldn't yell, couldn't swear.  All I could do was gasp in pain.

Yellow flowers beside a stream

Oh no....if it wasn't broken before, I was pretty sure I'd broken it now.  I gingerly limped down the rest of the moraine very slowly.  Making my way through the fantastic lupine field, I saw a tiny stream winding through the middle.  Maybe soaking my foot in it's cold waters would help a little.

Asters

So I took another break, and stuck my aching foot into the stream.  Although not as cold as I expected, it did feel good.  I opened my first aid kit and downed another couple of ibuprofen.  Hopefully the combination of meds and cool water would be enough to enable me to walk the 3.5 miles back to my car.

A cold stream brings relief to my aching toe

After a good 10 minutes in the cold water, I removed my foot, gingerly put my boot back on, and meandered my way back through the meadow.  The flowers were so fantastic, I made frequent photo stops to document it all.  Lupine, magenta paintbrush, asters, yellow Oregon sunshine, and other wildflowers brightened the area, making me temporarily forget my pain.  By now it was early afternoon, and hundreds of beautiful butterflies soared through the flower fields.  Truly a magical place, it was hard to leave.

Pretty blue butterfly

But I needed to get back to my car before my foot got any worse.  So I limped down through the meadows, past tiny Canyon Creek.  At the trail junction, I looked back for one final view of Three Fingered Jack, now almost entirely obscured by smoke.  Then, taking the recommended right hand turn, I followed Canyon creek for the next mile.

Smoke is getting thicker

I didn't remember much above this leg from my previous visit, but it turned out to be a delightful trek along a charming mountain stream, gradually transitioning into another burn zone from the 2003 fire.  Fireweed and white pearly everlasting flowers bloomed underneath the charred, gray trees.

Flowers blooming in old burn area

At the junction with the Wasco Lake trail, I came upon a lovely cascade, spilling over a small rocky outcrop.

Canyon Creek Falls

Then I hobbled down the last leg of my journey, another mile through the burned forest.  Although somber, I was pleased to see a solid mat of green across the forest floor.  Small pine trees, some now almost five feet high, were rising from the ashes.  The trees were almost big enough to begin overtaking the desolate gray burn area.  It cheered me to see this forest coming back to life.

Butterfly on pearly everlasting

About a half mile from Jack Lake I began seeing bushes loaded with ripe, purple huckleberries.  Mmmm!  I picked and snacked as I hiked along.  The berries sweet goodness helped me forget about my foot for a few minutes.

Huckleberries!

Although the lovely sights and yummy berries helped distract me from my throbbing toe, I was never so happy to see Jack Lake.  A short half mile trek and I was back at my car, tugging off that darned boot, and gratefully sinking into the driver's seat of my car. 

New trees beginning to overtake the burn area

Now - on to Bend, to see my brother and his family.  But sadly, I realized tomorrow's race was not gonna happen.  With my toe swelling and throbbing the way it was, there was no way I could run six miles.  But as a happy alternate, I ended up instead at the Bend Brewfest with my brother (and it was much more fun than running.)

I wouldn't have my broken toe diagnosed for another month.  Just this week I saw my podiatrist and she confirmed via xrays that it was indeed broken.  (And wasn't very happy I'd been hiking on it.)

But, I'm still glad I decided to hike the Canyon Creek Meadows loop.  The flowers and mountain views were so spectacular, it was totally worth it - broken toe and all.

Marion Lake

It was almost the end of July, and I'd yet to go camping.  Usually by now, Roger and I would've had at least a couple overnight excursions under our belts.  So on the last full weekend in July, I told my hubby to make plans - we were going camping!

My guys, ready to go!

Where to go?  We were both tired of the usual places - state and Forest Service campgrounds that, although scenic, were horribly overcrowded and noisy. 

I poured over my maps, and found some good candidates in the Willamette National Forest near Detroit Lake.  And - to seal the deal - there were some great hiking trails into the adjacent Mt. Jefferson Wilderness.  Hubby and I packed the car that Friday morning, and headed for Santiam Pass.

Ginormous fir tree

Roger and I found a sweet place - the Riverside Campground, about fifteen miles east of Detroit Lake, right off of Hwy 22.  Although the proximity to the highway meant some traffic noise, we found a lovely campsite right on the Santiam River.  The river's rushing waters drowned out all but the loudest trucks.  And we pitched our tent amidst a grove of gigantic old growth Douglas firs.  Perfect!

Pretty pink fluffy flower

After unloading, setting up camp, and taking a quick walk around the area, the day was still young.  I suggested a short hike.  The trail to Marion Lake was nearby.  Only a 6 mile round-trip trek, we could be to the lake and back in plenty of time for dinner.  Roger was game.

Lake Ann

For the past two months, Roger has been healing from two bulging discs in his neck.  He's been diligently doing physical therapy exercises and they have helped immensely.  Because of this, my hubby hadn't done any hiking yet this year.  But he was feeling better, and wanted to give it a try.  As a precaution, I told him not to carry a large amount of weight in his backpack.  I limited Roger to three small water bottles, and nothing else, in a small pack. This left me to carry the rest of the load (which really wasn't much - and besides, I'm used to carrying a heavy pack).

Bright red berries on this bush

Our trail started out in a magnificent old growth forest, full of huge Douglas Fir and cedar trees.  As many times as I've strolled through these wonderful woods, I never tire of gaping in awe at such enormous grandfather trees.

Three Fingerd Jack come into view

After about a mile and a half of gradual climbing, the trail leveled out at Lake Ann, a small forest-rimmed lake.  Fluffy pink flowers were blooming along the shore (which I have no idea of the name). 

Marion Lake's blue waters

We continued on past Lake Ann, and after almost three miles of dusty plodding reached the shore of Marion Lake.  What a beauty!  It's waters sapphire blue, the lake also boasted a nice view of a rugged mountain named Three Fingered Jack.

Roger and Bear cool their heels

By now it was well into mid-afternoon, the day's heat at it's highest.  We climbed down the steep bank to reach the lake's cool, inviting waters.  It felt great to cool our feet in Marion Lake.  Such a beautiful place - the water so clear, the scenery wonderful.  And even some bonus wild roses blooming along the shore!

Beautiful wild rose

One side of the lake had many nice campsites.  I saw a couple of parties had pitched tents and a couple other men were manning fishing poles along the rocky shore.  Looked like a great place to spend the night. 

Marion Lake's clear waters

After cooling off and having a snack, Roger and I laced up hiking boots, and retraced our steps back along the shoreline.  For our return trip, we took a different trail that followed the lake's western perimeter and wound through a thick forest before rejoining the main trail near Lake Ann.

More great lake and mountain views

Three Fingered Jack's craggy summit was our constant companion as we walked along the shore.  It rose from the forest like a gothic cathedral. 

View of 2003 forest fire

Near the lake's outlet creek was a great view across the lake to the surrounding hills, silver with dead trees from a 2003 fire.  It gave a sobering visual to the enormity of the damage.

Bear and I on the bridge

At the end of the lake, a cute log bridge spanned the outlet creek.  If we had more time, the trail on the other side of this bridge led hikers to a great viewpoint atop Marion Mountain.

This trail sign has seen better days

The short connector trail between Marion Lake's outlet and Lake Ann had one more surprise.  According to my guidebook, a side trail led to a secret seldom-visited waterfall.  Roger and I had to check it out.  The trail was very sketchy and looked like it hadn't been maintained in some time.  Crashing through the underbrush, I began to wonder if this was just a wild goose chase.  But then I heard rushing water.  The trail petered out at the top of a huge thunderous waterfall.  It was impressive indeed!  But in order to get a good look at the falls, one had to perch themselves out on a precarious rock ledge.  I wasn't up to taking that much risk for a photograph, so you'll just have to take my word for it.

Yellow sunstreaks on Lake Ann

After our heart-pounding waterfall encounter, Lake Ann greeted us with calm, colorful yellow streaks in her peaceful waters.  A combination of lake vegetation and evening light created this cool phenomenon. 

Evening light on the lakeside flowers

We'd took much longer than anticipated to complete this short 6-mile trek, and didn't reach the trailhead until nearly 7 o'clock.  Finally returning to our campsite, we ended up eating dinner as the sky got dark. 

But it was great to squeeze in this short, scenic hike on a hot summer's afternoon.  I was looking forward to exploring another trail the following day.  Stay tuned for my next post and see where I go.



Sharing with:  Weekly Top Shot.