Eightmile Creek Loop

With the local favorite trails even busier than normal, this spring I began to seek out lesser-known places to hike.  Of course, less popular often translates to "longer drive."  That's where I found myself on the last day of May, in my car enduring a 2-hour journey to the latest "new to me" trail on my list - the Eightmile Creek Loop.

Purple flowers ready to open

East of Mt Hood, off of Forest Service Road 44, lies an entire network of trails.  Often overlooked for the spectacular mountain vistas around Mt Hood, some of these trails see more mountain bike traffic than hikers.  Such was the case of Eightmile Creek, but I'd done my research in advance, so knew what to expect.  I'd also read that this area was known for nice spring wildflowers.  The promise of prolific wildflower displays was what drew me here today.

Barren trees

After Forest Service Road 44, I navigated a couple of dusty gravel roads (with one backtracking episode after taking a wrong turn).  Searching the for the Bottle Prairie Trailhead, I totally missed the unsigned turn-off and ended up down the road at Eightmile Campground instead.  Although I could've driven back to my trailhead of choice, I opted to park at the campground and start my hike here.  (The fully-stocked-with-tp trailhead restroom sealed the deal!)

Lupine leaves

At the parking area was a trailhead sign, but it failed to mention which trail.  As I pondered if this was the Eightmile Creek trail, a friendly campground host drove by and confirmed my hunch.  He also informed me that the trail was heavily used by mountain bikers, and they were especially fast down the steep decline from Fivemile Butte.

Vanilla leaf

Although I'd initially wanted to climb steep Fivemile Butte first to see the fire lookout tower, the campground host's words made me change course.  Since this hike was a loop, why not start in the opposite direction and save the steep descent for last?  I'd avoid being plowed by mountain bikes, and it eliminated a steep climb right off the bat. 

Purple anemone

Starting my climb on the lower trail, I was immediately passed by large group of mountain bikers (all giving me very polite "thank yous" for stepping off the trail).  But after that, I had the path to myself for nearly a mile and a half.

Bridge over Eightmile Creek

Being in the mountain's rainshadow, the forests on the east side of Mt Hood consisted of more dry-region Ponderosa pine, hemlock and Western Red Cedar.  Many of the trees lacked needles, their bare branches sticking out like skeleton arms (I'm not sure why).  After crossing Eightmile creek on a wooden bridge, I  climbed steeply until the creek disappeared into a small valley far below the trail.

White anemone

But - oh the flowers!  There were tons of white and purple anemones, vanilla leaf, some lupine, larkspur and yellow violets.  Lots of lens candy.

Lots of downed trees!

Nearing the intersection with Bottle Prairie Trailhead (my intended starting point) I came upon an area with a huge amount of downed trees.  Fallen logs littered the forest floor.  Not sure what happened here, but it looked as though they had been there for some time.

Violet

As I bent down to capture a patch of especially vibrant yellow violets, I was startled by a mountain biker bearing down the trail.  I yelped and quickly jumped out of the way, however, the biker had already slowed down.  I think we both surprised each other.  (And the biker was very nice about our near miss).

Larkspur

The Bottle Prairie trailhead was packed with cars and vans, all sporting bike racks.  No hikers here!  Trying to figure out how I missed this parking area, I realized there wasn't a sign on the main road.  No wonder I'd driven right by.

Lupine

Now for the second part of my journey.  I hiked slightly uphill through a meadow packed with lovely purple larkspur.  Again I was almost run over by a mountain biker while knelt down for a photo (who was very polite and apologetic).  This one was my fault - because I was kneeling the biker didn't see me.  Lesson learned - step off the trail before taking pictures!

Scraggly balsamroot

Then I lapped a friendly family, the first hikers I'd seen all day.  I continued my climb through forests, with occasional flowers brightening the trailside.

Wide open views

A mile later, the forest cleared and I was treated to some great panoramic views of the adjacent woods and foothills.  Lupine and basalmroot blooms graced these open, grassy slopes.  Having missed the big Gorge flower blooms this spring, due to trails being closed for COVID, it was great to see some of my favorite early season wildflowers.

Fivemile Butte lookout tower

I came to an unsigned junction.  According to my gps mileage, the Fivemile Butte Lookout tower was nearby.  This had to be the side trail.  Following the path through thick manzanita bushes, I glimpsed the tower cab through the trees.

Great lunch spot

I love hiking to fire lookout towers.  There's always great views to be had, and the lookout structures themselves are interesting.  This tower had a McGyver-ed basket on a hoist to haul supplies up to the cab.  Although normally rented out for overnight stays, due to the pandemic, the lookout tower was currently closed.  Even the stairs to the top were barricaded.

My lunchtime view

I moseyed around the grounds, past a restroom building until coming upon a huge viewpoint.  A few logs had been placed here, clearly a designated break spot.  Perfect for me, it was high time for lunch!

Another view of the lookout

Although expecting the family I'd passed to arrive soon, I had the fire tower area to myself the entire time.  It wasn't until I was packing up my lunch that the family emerged from the woods.

Basket for hauling supplies up to the tower

So I snapped a few more photos of this historic lookout tower, and was on my way.

On the National Historic Register!

Nice sign with all the stats

After climbing most of the day, it was time for some sweet downhill!  I contoured around the top of Fivemile Butte, taking in more wildflowers and views before the trail began its steep descent.

Stonecrop ready to bloom

I met a few more mountain bikers, some very slowly grinding their way to the top, but others zipping back downhill.  The most stressful part of the hike, I was constantly on guard, listening for descending bikers.

Sunny balsamroot flower

And although all of the mountain bikers I met were very polite, slowing down as they passed me, and thanking me for stepping off the trail, I didn't care much for sharing the trail with them.  I was always worried I wouldn't hear a biker and get hit before I could get out of the way.

More lupine

So my descent was quicker than I would've normally hiked.  There were tons of pretty purple-blue Jacob's Ladder flowers lining the trail, but I only stopped a couple times for photographs.

Indian Paintbrush joins the party

The forest was interesting too.  It appeared this area had been logged at one time - there were tons of small trees growing across Fivemile Butte's steep slopes.

Views on the trail down

Returning to my car, the empty parking area was now full of vehicles, mostly vans with bike racks. Good thing I'd started my hike early!

Jacobs Ladder flowers (I think)

Although my starting point wasn't where I'd initially planned, I was happy with the route I ended up taking.  It was good to get the climbing out of the way first, and visiting the lookout tower later made for a good lunch spot.  Something to look forward to near the end of the hike. 

Another new trail with lovely spring wildflowers, I'll have to return again for fall colors (Rumor has it they are good in this area).  But next time I think I'll pick a weekday to avoid the mountain biking crowd.

7.5 miles, 1400 feet elevation gain.

Comet Chasing

I'd heard little bits and pieces about the Comet NEOWISE on the news, but didn't pay much attention until my Facebook feed starting showing fabulous photos of the comet taken by local photographers.  Then my neighbor Cheri asked me if I was interested in joining her for an evening photography session.  Although I'd never before tried capturing the night sky, it was an opportunity I couldn't pass up.

Comet NEOWISE

Cheri had recently joined a local photography club.  A group of women from her club planned an outing to capture the comet.  Weather conditions (clear skies) were predicted for last Wednesday night, so we all met in nearby Hood River and caravaned out to a remote road near the town of Dufur next to an old, abandoned schoolhouse.

Center Ridge Schoolhouse

I discovered the Center Ridge Schoolhouse, a local photography landmark, was a great subject, especially bathed in soft evening light.

Wheat fields and Mt Hood

The schoolhouse was surrounded by golden wheat fields.  Two Cascade peaks - Mt Hood and Adams, lined the horizon.  What a great place for landscape photography!

Sunburst behind the schoolhouse

Seven ladies gathered on the gravel road opposite the schoolhouse, set up tripods, and waited for the sun to drop.

Sunburst from a schoolhouse window

Being the rank amateur of the group, I paid close attention to what the other women were photographing.  When the sun sank behind the school, I noticed everyone shooting pics of the building.  Then I noticed the sun's setting rays shining through a window.  Aha - sunburst images!

Sun's last rays

It was a beautiful sunset.  The sky glowed orange and pink.

Wonderful light on the prairie

Last light illuminated the prairies and wheat fields.

Mt Adams and a tangerine sky

The sky behind Mt Adams was a lovely shade of orange (tangerine skies! Isn't that a song?)

Wonderful sunset colors

With darkness fast approaching, my companions and I eagerly scanned the sky for signs of NEOWISE.

The comment appeared shortly after 10 pm

And then around 10:00 someone spotted it below the Big Dipper in the Northwest sky.  At first the comet was merely a pinprick of light, but as the sky grew darker, it became brighter.

The stars began to shine brighter

I am forever indebted to the photography club ladies who gave me many good tips on how to properly capture a night sky.  One lady showed me how to use "mirror lockup," another told me to get a good focus on the schoolhouse before it got dark (great advice!), and others gave suggestions on shutter speeds, ISO, and apertures.  Thanks to their help, I'm happy to report my first attempt at night photography was successful.  I came away with many images I liked.

Star-filled sky

Time seemed to pass so quickly.  I was in total awe of not only the comet, but also the star-filled night sky.  Far away from city light pollution, it was filled with millions of twinkling stars.  I even saw the Milky Way.  I thought about trying to capture that too, but didn't want to lose my focus on the schoolhouse or change lenses.

"Light painting" the schoolhouse

For the grand finale one of the women shined a flashlight on the schoolhouse while the rest of us opened our shutters.  Known as "light painting" the brief burst of light illuminated the building against the dark sky.  I really liked the result.

Since Comet NEOWISE only comes around once in 6,800 years I was glad to have taken the opportunity to not only observe but photograph its journey across the night sky.  An absolutely amazing experience!  Totally worth the late bedtime. 

Bayocean Spit

I've hiked most of the trails along the northern Oregon coast, some several times.  But now hoping to avoid the popular crowded coastal areas in this time of Covid, I perused the internet for lesser known destinations.  Bayocean Spit, a sandy finger of land jutting into Tillamook Bay, garnered my attention.  An 8-mile loop that circled this skinny peninsula boasted sandy beaches, lovely bay views, and great birdwatching.  Not only that, but it was also the site of one of Oregon's strangest ghost towns.  How had this place managed to fly under my radar until now?  Intrigued, I added it to my "must hike" list.

Walking the road towards the trailhead

The last Friday of May I decided to check it out.  However, it was strawberry season and after spending the morning picking berries at a very crowded, un-social distanced u-pick farm (I swear when strawberries are ripe, some people lose their minds!) I needed a break from crowds.  Heading west towards the coastal town of Tillamook I looked forward to a quiet afternoon of beach walking, photography, and bird watching.

Map of the spit

The hike traversed a narrow sliver of land jutting between Tillamook Bay and the Pacific Ocean.  An abandoned road hugged the bay side of this spit, while hikers followed the sandy coastal shoreline on the ocean side.  Trails between the two criss-crossed the interior, so one could make the hike as long or short as they desired.

Interesting patterns at water's edge

Happy for the sunny skies, I was looking forward to capturing some great beach and bird images.  But as I drove through the town of Tillamook, strong winds began buffeting my car.  Hmmm... not a good sign - if it was already windy in town, this didn't bode well for the beaches.

The trailhead parking area was accessed by driving one mile across a narrow dike onto the spit itself.  However, upon arrival I discovered the road to the spit closed, gated at the highway.  Parking in a nearby gravel shoulder, I stepped outside only to be blasted by a huge gust.  Maybe this wasn't such a good idea.

Marshy fringe of Tillamook Bay

Although gated, the road to the spit appeared to be open to hikers.  Should I go for it anyway?  Walking the road to the trailhead would add an extra mile each way to my daily total.  Since it was already afternoon, covering the entire loop was unlikely, especially now that it would be 10 miles instead of 8.  After a bit of hemming and hawing I decided to give the loop a try - I'd driven all this way and it was silly to let a little wind and two extra miles stop me.

Interesting clouds

Shouldering my backpack and camera bag, I took off down the long gravel road connecting the spit to the main highway.  High winds blasted my face, threatening to blow off my cap (until I got smart and buried it in my backpack).  Views were wonderful.  Tillamook Bay's grassy, muddy shore on one side, and Cape Meares Lake on the other.  Pebbly clouds floated in a blue sky.  Bright yellow Scotch Broom lined the grassy road edges.  Although invasive, it provided a nice punch of color.

Old homesite marker

During research for this trail, I'd stumbled across a wealth of history.  This narrow strip of land was once home to a planned resort community.  Nicknamed the "Atlantic City of the West" the city of Bayocean was platted in 1906 by a realtor named T.B. Potter.  Potter had high hopes, touting his development as the "playground of millionaires."  He built a hotel, roads, and sold homesites.  By 1914 with over 600 lots sold, the town's population swelled to 2,000 people and it boasted a dance hall, hotel, movie theater, bowling alley, tennis courts, a private railroad, and 4 miles of paved roads. The crowing accomplishment was construction of a 160-foot long heated saltwater swimming pool right on the beach.

Bayocean townsite marker

However, built on unstable sand dunes, in 1928 erosion started claiming the seaward side of the beach.  Construction of a jetty on the north side of Tillmook Bay further hastened the town's destruction.  In 1932, waves from a large storm destroyed the swimming pool building.  Winter storms throughout the 30s and 40s further demolished the town, as one by one, houses crumbled and fell into the sea.  By 1952, the road connecting the spit to the mainland was washed away, creating an island.  What little remained of the town was demolished during a dike building project in 1956.  The last building, a garage, finally tumbled into the ocean in 1971.

Colorful salal bushes

Ironically, construction of a second jetty on the south side of Tillamook Bay's entrance caused sand to re-accumulate on the spit, rebuilding the once-lost land area.  Today the old townsite has become a county park, with hiking trails and informal walk-in campsites.

Ocean side of the spit

After a long walk along the road, I came to the parking area and trailhead.  Although eager to see the beach, I decided to continue along the road a little longer.  A half mile later, I came upon an interpretive display, explaining the history of the "town that fell into the sea."  A side trail led into the brushy interior, taking hikers to the Bayocean townsite.  There wasn't much to see.  A large sign commemorated the townsite's former location, and a few scattered posts marked past occupant's houses.  Staring across this barren land, it was hard to imagine a town of 600 plus homes once existed here.

Footprints

Following the trail through salal bushes led me up a dune to the beach itself.  Topping the dune I was hit full on by the wind.  And if I thought the gusts were strong along the bay, it was absolutely howling on the ocean side.  I staggered onto the beach, ducking my head against blowing sand.  I attempted a couple of photos, but wishing to preserve my camera, I quickly stuffed it safely back into it's bag.

Beach grasses blowing in the wind

My original plan had been to walk along the beach the entire length of the spit, round the northern end, and return along the bay side.  But five minutes of walking in gale-force winds was enough for me.  Spotting another trail leading back into the forested interior, I gratefully escaped.

Forested area in the middle

A forested knoll rose up in the middle of Bayocean spit.  Tall trees and lush vegetation lined its slopes, a welcome surprise from the barren beach.  Trails tunneled through thick vegetation, leading to campsites.  I'd heard of people backpacking in here and camping, and this seemed like a great place for an overnight adventure.

Buttercup

This trail once again led me out to the bayside road.  Sheltered by the forest, the wind was much gentler here and I resumed my walk northward.  Many varieties of wildflowers lined the forested roadsides - buttercup, foxgloves, wild rose, and the ubiquitous Scotch broom. 

Foxglove and Scotch broom

A bend in the road led me to another clearing with fantastic views across Tillamook Bay. 

Wild rose

Good place for a few photo ops - and a selfie attempt!

Selfie attempt

An old bench by another connector trail made a good break spot.

Break spot

I contemplated continuing north to the northern tip of the spit.  However, it was getting late, I was tiring, and knowing I had a 3.5 mile return trip to my car made me realize it was time to turn around.

Tillamook Bay looking north

On my way back, I noticed two blue herons fishing in the bay.  Although I contemplated switching out to my 200 mm zoom lens, the birds were still too far away for any good photos.  Instead, I stood and watched them for a few minutes.

I spied two blue herons

The walk back was lovely.  Evening light began to illuminate the bay's waters to a nice shade of blue.
Scotch Broom glowed golden in the fading sun.

Tillamook Bay looking southeast

Adjacent hills across the bay rose up to frame the scenes.

Loved the different colors and patterns

As I trudged past the trailhead parking area, I noticed a couple of cars were now parked here.  As I began the final mile across the dike a passenger vehicle came rumbling down the road.  Looking far ahead, I realized the gate was now open!  Not sure why it had been closed in the first place (maybe it was for some type of maintenance).

Looking east across the bay

No matter, I had a lovely walk across the final mile, peering across Cape Meares Lake and glimpsing Cape Meares and the ocean far beyond.

Colorful, swampy edge to the bay

Happy to fit in a hike and discover another new, fascinating place on the Oregon Coast!  I'll definitely return on calmer day and explore the entire coastline.  Maybe I'll even camp overnight.

Cape Meares Lake

While doing research for this blog post, I came across a very interesting video produced by Oregon Public Broadcasting.  It gives a great overview of the history of Bayocean city.