Category Archives: The Long Roadtrip

Columbia River Gorge wildflower hunting

May 22-24, 2023.

Photo album

Tom McCall Preserve

6 miles | 1330’ ele. gain |3.5 hr.

After dropping Aaron off at the airport for a work trip, I pointed the van north and drove towards the Columbia River Gorge. I’d spent countless hours there when I lived in Portland, so I was excited to revisit an old friend. I parked at the Rowena viewpoint, where I could go on two short hikes. I started on the trail that ambled along the edge of the plateau above the Columbia. The wind blew ferociously. I remembered how bad the wind could get here, but this seemed even a bit much for the gorge. I cinched up the hood on my wind shell and began walking.

It was evident from the beginning that I missed the peak balsamroot blooms; the withering yellow flowers looked battered and sad. But there was plenty other things to see: arrowleaf buckwheat, lupine, yarrow, onion, peas. And my old pal poison oak!
I was ready for poison oak now. I could see it from a mile away. Instead of comfy shorts and sandals, I wore long pants, socks and trail shoes. I would no longer brush off poison oak as no big deal. Now on day 2 of steroids after 8 painful, itchy days of a vicious poison oak attack, I gave that heinous plant a wide berth.

The sign at the trailhead implores visitors to stay on trail, but it’s not well-marked and user trails braided this way and that. I did my best to follow the main route plus the side loop, but somehow I veered off onto another path. If you want to keep hikers in line, you gotta let them know where to be!

Back at the parking lot, I reset my trip odometer and headed uphill towards Tom McCall Point. This trail was much more my style, switchbacking uphill through blooming meadows and pockets of shady forest. Here, I saw large-flower triteleia, paintbrush, bedstraw, wild roses, white-stem frasera and the star of the show: sticky penstemon. These gigantic purple flowers stopped me in my tracks as they stood tall and vibrant in the upper meadows. Stunners!

After that hike, I’d pretty much had it with the wind. I drove to nearby Memaloose State Park to find a campsite and relax. I knew I had an early wake-up the next day.

Dog Mountain

7 miles | 3075’ ele. gain | 5:50 hr

I met up with my friend Greg just after 6 am at the Dog Mountain Trailhead. I remembered this place being popular, and I know I’d hiked it a few times before. But its popularity had grown since I lived in Portland. Plus, the flowers were peaking and people lose their minds over this trail. I’d never actually gone for the wildflowers before so this would be a new experience. All of this to say: the 6 am start time would be crucial for enjoying this hike!

A few short steps up the trail and I realized that I’d met my match for photo-taking. It was nice to be able to take our time, identify every little flower, and try to document as much of the interesting flora that we could on the way. We had all day, in fact, so why rush?

Before getting remotely close to the famous yellow blooms, we saw so much: ookow, inside-out flower, spotted coralroot, Columbia anemone, to name a few. Every time I stopped to look at one thing I discovered three more things. The cool, dark forest was resplendent with a staggering diversity of plant life. I know there are plenty more flowers I don’t even have photos of, mostly because I’ve already got a zillion (I’m looking at you, woodland stars).

The famed balsamroot meadows were, in fact, spectacular. And even though I’ve seen the same damn image more times than I can count on social media, it was still really cool to be standing among thousands of cheery, yellow blooms swaying in the incessant wind.

Although the wind was not nearly as bad as the previous day, the sky was overcast and the air was cool. Despite my layers I was chilled to the bone. These conditions did not stop Greg from taking many, many photos. So at one point I headed up to the summit to wait for him as he captured every last thing that needed capturing. I gladly found myself a coniferous La-Z-Boy, downed some food and savored being out of the wind.

Eventually, Greg joined me at the top and he got to take his break as well. It was too cold for me to paint today, and I had other people to see in the afternoon, so we headed back down. We took a slightly different route that detoured into a light and beautiful forest filled with new wildflower treats. Fendler’s waterleaf, vine maple, Hooker’s fairybells, Oregon grape and the very last of the Dutchman’s breeches were on display. In addition, there were more checker lilies than I’d ever seen on a hike before, wow!

Each section of trail had its own joys and surprises. Among the shadows of the darkest parts of the forest, Phantom orchids sprouted in the hundreds. They were not quite in bloom yet, but they were getting ready to put on a good show.
But alas, I had to leave that to Greg for a future hike. Back at the parking lot, I spied a familiar face en route to the trailhead. “Is that Linda?” I cried.

Yes, it was. I had a nice time catching up with one of my old climbing buddies from Portland and remembered that this was my home for a while. I’ve got roots here. And I spent the rest of the afternoon visiting a few more old friends, watering the roots so to speak, and preparing for the next leg of the journey.

Eagle Creek

14.5 mi | 1080’ ele. gain | 6:20 hr.

The last stop on my top Gorge hikes tour came on Greg’s recommendation: Eagle Creek. Again, my only preconceived notions/memories of this hike were something like: this is really popular and ten million people are going to be tripping over each other on this trail. Again, I showed up early, and there were only three cars in the parking lot.
I started at the Fish Hatchery and did the short road walk to the actual trailhead, where I immediately stopped to take a bunch of photos of the wildflowers growing on the vertical walls along the trail. Water seeped down the steep rock and moss, creating a perfect growing environment for arnica (probably), monkeyflower, maidenhair ferns and a new one to me: Oregon bolandra. I knew I had a 14 mile day ahead but I didn’t care. Nature made me stop.

The last time I hiked Eagle Creek, it was during a blizzard that shut down the highway in the Gorge just hours after we drove back towards Portland. I had only a vague memory of this trail, with its narrow passageways and bolted cables. As I hiked, I tried to imagine the work it took to create this trail on the side of a canyon, with vertical basalt walls, numerous waterfalls, inlet creeks and a host of other natural barriers. It must have taken a grand effort to make this come to life.

And how grateful was I at that moment that this trail existed! Every stretch had its own special beauty, despite the fire that ripped through mere years ago. Wildflowers blossomed and stretched up towards the sunlight. Shrubs and tiny trees sprang to life. Among the burned and scarred corpses of trees, many others grew lush and tall. After spending years hiking through the massive burn scars across Central Oregon, this landscape did not feel jarring at all. In fact, it was much livelier and robust than I’d imagined from what I’d read.

After hiking several miles, I finally began to hear the roar of Tunnel Falls. I appreciate a well-named entity, be it a waterfall, wildflower or mountain. The trail literally enters a tunnel behind the waterfall, making for a rather exciting experience. The anticipation grew as the sound got louder and the waterfall spray filled the air. I rounded a corner, walked into the belly of the beast, and emerged on the other side, surrounded by white shooting star and a carpet of vertical green vegetation. The trail was barely wide enough for me to stand, with a precipitous drop down to a pool of churning water. I could see how a fear of heights would paralyze any visitor here.

From there, I wasn’t sure how much further to go. I knew the Eagle Creek trail went on for many more miles. But there seemed to be some more waterfall commotion up ahead. Plus, I wanted to find a nice spot to sit and have a snack. Those opportunities were few and far between on this narrow trail! I was glad to have only seen two other people so far on my walk.

At this point, the dramatic trail paralleled a narrow, rocky gorge. Happy green plants sprung from every crack and crevice, seemingly reaching for the suspended droplets of water from the rambunctious creek.

To my surprise and delight, I came to the also-well-named Twister Falls. It took my breath away. I thought that I must have come here before, but after looking back at my hiking spreadsheet it appears this was my first time.

Occasionally, when out in nature, I am overcome by a feeling that must be described as “awe,” although I find it impossible to truthfully describe. It is a visceral feeling that takes over some part of my body. In this case I could feel a kind of expansion and warmth in my chest. I stood there at the falls, surrendering to this unusual but overwhelmingly positive sensation, as I felt a deep connection to this place at this time.
Once the feeling had passed, I sat down in a small gravel bar near the top of the falls and ate some food. The warmth of the day had begun to set in, and I still had a seven mile walk back to the car, so I didn’t linger long. Plus, I wanted to do some painting. I had scouted a good spot near one of the bridges about halfway back, which would serve as a good painting and secondary snack break.

I opted for a quicker pace on the way back, since I’d stopped for seemingly every wildflower and riffle of water on the way up. But, that did not stop me from discovering a few more flowers and scenic viewpoints that I’d missed on the way in.

Yes, the Gorge hikes are crowded. I did pass a bunch of people hiking in while I was motoring out. But, there are many reasons why these hikes attract so many visitors. I felt privileged to be able to return to the Gorge this week and hike three classics in near peak condition without feeling suffocated by weekend crowds.

But, if the only time you can get out there is on a summer weekend, I say go anyway. Go early or late in the day if you can, and either way brace yourself for an absolute mob scene. These trails are there to be enjoyed. And most normal people don’t abhor crowds as much as I do. Right now, the flowers are absolutely popping!

Illinois River Trail

May 10-12, 2023

Photo album

I decided to take a 3-day foray into the Southern Oregon wilderness along the Illinois River Trail. Conditions dependent, I considered a loop up Bald Mountain, combining the main trail with the Florence Way trail. This loop would have been about 24 miles. In three days, that felt like a reasonable plan.

What I neglected to consider is how formidable the Illinois River Trail could prove to be. For starters, the road to the trailhead is narrow, bumpy, rutted and carved into a steep hillside looming above the river. It was a torturous drive, and we even pulled over before the trailhead because of rumors that the last 2 miles was really bad.

Day 1

On the morning of May 10, I slung on my backpack and began the walk to to Illinois River East trailhead. The first mile or so of road was fairly flat and even, but it ran through private property so we would have had no place to park. After that, it became more narrow and rugged, with some big puddles at the end. I was glad we made the decision to leave the van where it was.

I hiked across the bridge spanning the raging Illinois and met with the next trail obstacle: poison oak. This stuff grows like a weed throughout Southern Oregon. And since I’ve been impervious to it in the past, I was a little nonchalant about walking through it on this trip (this would prove to be a very bad choice a few days later). The hot sun bore down on me as I crossed the burned, open forest. It had an eerie vibe, and as I passed a big pile of poo that consisted mostly of fur, I started singing some Capoeira songs aloud to keep myself company.

The trail was alive with irises, buttercups, mariposa lilies and much more. I frequently stopped to admire and identify the local flora. Far down below, the Illinois River dipped in and out of view. This was no ordinary river trail; while technically the trail followed the river, the water was often several hundred feet down and not visible at all. The steep mountains tumbled and crumbled down into the valley. The slopes were likely made unstable by the wildfires, which devastated many of the existing trees that held the rock and soil together. At times, walking on the trail felt like walking on the edge of a precipice that could give way underfoot. I don’t have much of a fear of heights, but feeling the wobbly overnight pack on my back made me walk a little slower and choose my steps with precision.

I crossed several little creeks along the way, including one that was lined with Darlingtonia, my favorite Southern Oregon native. Near that creek, I also got to meet a new endemic: Kalmiopsis. This pretty little pink flower cascaded profusely down the hillside, a beauty to behold. I only saw it in this one specific location on this trip. I’ll have to learn more about this plant to find out where it likes to grow and see if I can scout some more on future trips.

At last I reached a trail junction that led down to river level. This junction was brushy, obscured and unmarked, so I let my trail map guide me to the right spot. It was very steep and covered with dry, slippery leaves. Several fallen trees made a little obstacle course of the trail but I made it down without falling. Near the bottom, I changed into sandals to wade through a creek before the trail disappeared into the brush. I emerged onto a wide, flat area of bedrock, adjacent to the flowing water. It was time for lunch, so I found a spot near a calm pool of water where I could dip my feet and eat a sandwich.

By now the sun felt really hot. The idea of sitting blissfully by the water’s edge, reading a book and painting, was not going to happen. I put my pack back on and kept walking. I had to see if the Florence Way trail, allegedly brought back to life a couple of years ago, actually existed. This was the questionable link in my planned loop.

The “trail” through this section was more of a suggestion, as I’d find bits and pieces of a route that inevitably vanished shortly later. Clearly, not many humans come this way. As the route led back into the forest and prepared to ascent 4000′ in the next 5 miles, It was again obscured by massive trees down. I looked ahead to see if I could find any semblance of a passable route, but all I saw was ferns and underbrush. There was no way I was going to piece together a route through this unrelenting forest up that much elevation the next day, let alone with an overnight pack. I resigned to backtracking here and scheming a plan B.

Pine Flat was a fine area to camp, with lots of options. I ended up choosing a campsite in the forest on the other side of the creek I’d waded earlier because it was out of the wind and it had a nice use trail to a sweet little rocky spot on the river. From there I saw my first humans of the day: a small party of kayakers and one raft. I painted the river, made dinner and looked for wildflowers.

That night I lay in my hammock, memorizing the map for the next day.

Day 2

I awoke at 6 am, as I always do now, and walked out to my riverfront “porch” to have my coffee and apple pie for breakfast. That little 79 cent hand pie I picked up at Grocery Outlet a few days ago made a delicious, easy and calorie-full meal to fuel my morning. I hiked slowly back up the steep path to regain the main trail. At the upper junction, I dropped my main pack and bundled up a few supplies to take a side trip up the Illinois River Trail, just to see how well maintained it was.

Less than a half mile up the trail, I came across a smooth madrone branch across the trail. It was easy to step over, but I noticed an ominous message carved into it: “It’s f*cked up ahead.” Melodramatic, or…accurate? It turned out to be the latter. I soon came across another madrone down, this one large and filled out with leafy branches. I had done enough crawling over and through blowdown that I heeded the warning and turned back towards my backpack. There was only one more item on my list for today: Nobles House.

Another 0.8 miles back towards the trailhead, the Shorty Noble Way trail led down, on my map, to a spot just above the river. Based on the topo lines, it appeared to end at another flat area like the one I’d camped at the night before. It also looked less steep, and I had nothing better to do anyways. I started down this mysterious trail, curious as to what I’d find.

It began pretty pleasant and enjoyable, considerably less steep than the other river access trail. But soon it fell prey to the same hazards: tons of poison oak, blowdown everywhere. I took my time negotiating all these obstacles and got within spitting distance of an obvious camp. Then, there it was. The biggest and blowiest-down of them all. Madrone. Such a beautiful tree when it’s alive and vertical. But an actual monster when fallen to the ground. I literally just had to get to the other side of it. There was no going around; a brushy creek roared to my left and a dense forest created a barricade to my right. I had to go over. Fingers of poison oak reached up between the twisted branches. I took off my pack, scrambled over the main trunks, then reached back to retrieve my pack and hurl it down ahead of me.

Gosh it doesn’t look so bad in the picture

At last, at the camp. Or, not. There was a ton of historic trash there, plus some modern garbage. Not super pleasant. I found a path to an overlook of the river, with no way to get down to it. When I tried to settle in, it just didn’t feel like the right spot. I found a way to cross the creek and poked around on the other side. There, I found several more camping options, including a primo hammock site with shade and easy access to the river rock outcrops. Perfect.

I spent the day napping, reading, napping, eating, daydreaming, napping and painting. I worked on attributing value to not being productive and not hiking all the miles. This is a major mindset shift. Normally, when we go on roadtrips, the time is ticking. We need to pack in as many things as we possibly can because every minute not spent doing something rad is wasted. But when the roadtrip is years-long instead of days-long, that breakneck pace is not sustainable or enjoyable. I convinced myself that reading an entire book in two days was the most productive I could be, and I happily did that thing.

Day 3

On the last day, I just needed to return to the van. I sadly said goodbye to my lovely campsite and returned to do battle with my madrone. It was a thousand times easier on the way back, maybe because I already had a functional strategy or I was more mentally prepared or ?? I slowly ambled back up the trail, noticing so many more flowers than I’d seen on the way down. I was moving with the intention to see flowers instead of the intention to reach a destination. It still blows my mind how much intention impacts experience.

I stopped to squat and photograph all the flowers, including the secretive marbled wild ginger. So many loaded squats on this trip; I think botanizing will be my new workout regimen.

The early start meant I got to enjoy much more shade on the hike out than I did on the hike in. The temperatures were rapidly rising each day and I do NOT do well in the heat. I appreciated my newly developed 6 am built-in alarm clock. Blissfully, I backtracked through the lilies, kalmiopsis, arnica, monkeyflower, paintbrush, serviceberry, poison oak.

Back in the late morning, I had a quick recap with Aaron and made a plan for the next day. We decided to do part of the drive back out this awful road before there was much of a chance of oncoming traffic, due to the dearth of opportunities to pull off the side of the road. We made it back to Sixmile Recreation area, where we spent the afternoon splashing in the river, relaxing and enjoying the remainder of a perfect spring day.

Based on trip reports I’ve read about the Illinois River Trail, it is a very special place when it is clear and navigable! I knew that taking this on early season, especially in a late snow year, involved a high risk of severe blow down. It’s hard enough to get people doing trail maintenance on busy trails, let alone remote and relatively obscure ones. Maybe the trail was perfect past one rogue madrone? But I doubt it. I’m keeping my eyes open for opportunities to volunteer in this ranger district to help clear some trails. I’m also going to swing by a hardware store to pick up some clippers to keep in my backpack!

A reminder to myself and to you: contributing is far better than complaining. See a problem? Figure out how you can contribute to a solution rather than sitting back and complaining about it. Even better, figure out how to recruit others to help with your solution as well.

One final note: It turns out I am *not* impervious to poison oak. It didn’t start bothering me until the day after I got off trail. And I’m suffering dearly, with huge, itchy, puffy welts all over my legs. Four days later, they seem to be getting worse, not better. So, do what you can to avoid the stuff. Then, wash everything: your skin, your clothes, your gear, once you get off trail. Stock up on Tecnu products ahead of time. When we stopped into Safeway in Grants Pass, they were out of stock in all their poison oak products and Calamine lotion. Obviously top sellers in this area!

Eight Dollar Mountain Botanical Area

April 30- May 9, 2023.

Photo album

Southern Oregon is a hot spot for rare, endemic wildflowers. It’s also one of the earliest places to bloom in the spring. I headed this way in to try and see some of the region’s unique and special plant life during its prime. While the Eight Dollar Mountain Botanical Area has little for developed trails or viewing areas, the flora are abundant and if you take just a little effort to poke around, you’ll be rewarded with beautiful blooms in every direction.

During this time frame, I went on several hikes in or adjacent to the Botanical Area. Of those, two were on trails: the Eight Dollar Mountain Boardwalk and Kerby Flat Trail. Otherwise I used roadside pullouts, old roads, elk trails and did plenty of cross-country exploring.

Darlingtonia magic

The highlight of my visit was the California pitcher plant (Darlingtonia) flowers on full display. Although the fen visible from the boardwalk was in bloom, the plants were too far away to get a very good look. That was okay, because there were several other areas blooming just up the road. There are several pullouts along the road, making it easy to park and walk to anything of interest that you spot from the car.

Darlingtonia flowers
Darlingtonia flower up close

Before visiting, I downloaded some information from the Rogue River-Siskyou National Forest. They provide suggested itineraries, some background information and an extensive plant checklist. This was immensely helpful in determining which maps to have on my phone and where to begin walking around.

Flower power

Here are some of the plants I found:

Siskiyou fritillary
Western azalea
Showy phlox
Oregon violet
Silky balsamroot
Purple mouse ears
Wedgeleaf violet

This is just a sampling of the impressive array of wildflowers. There are more in the photo album linked at the top, and way more out in the field. I loved taking the time to learn more about each new plant I found instead of racing to capture the miles on this trip. The slower I walked, the more I noticed. And the more I noticed, the more curious I got.

Some of these flowers are tricky to spot. I stepped on a Siskyou fritillary twice, because it blended in so well to the grasses around it. Somehow the maroon and yellow speckled petals creates a greenish hue from above, rendering it nearly invisible. But I learned that the more attuned my eyes became to the familiar flowers, I was more likely to spot something unusual. At the tail end of my Eight Dollar Mountain summit hike, I came across some opposite-leaf lewisia scattered throughout a meadow. I noticed the flowers resembled that of bitterroot (another Lewisia species). So, I pulled out my phone and opened the Oregon Wildflowers app (yes, that’s a thing and it’s free and you need to download it). I typed in Lewisia and it took me no time to identify this rare plant that grows in a very narrow range!

Now, the treasure hunt continues. Onward to explore deeper in the wilderness along the Illinois River…

Transition to travel

April 28, 2023.

During the summer of 2020, in the midst of a global pandemic, with wildfires consuming the state’s forests and dark smoke choking the air, I turned to Aaron and said: “I want to take a year off.” He blew off that idea as crazy and changed the subject.

But I kept dreaming, scheming, budgeting and putting that idea out there. “We can do it,” I said, “I ran the numbers. This is how much we’ll need to get a van outfitted and hit the road for a year.” I needed and wanted a break from our routine. Besides, we’d experienced so much death in the family in the past few years. People who didn’t get to live long enough to do all the things you’re supposed to do when you retire. “We’re doing it now,” I thought, “because the only time we know we have for certain is now.”

Fast forward to late April, 2023 and our leave date was barreling down on us. There was still so much to do. Rent the house. Pack up the last things. Move the furniture to the garage. Cancel this. Redirect that. Update insurance policies. Get those doctor’s appointments lined up. There’s so much logistics involved in living a life within a complex web of systems that govern every element about you. I was so ready to simplify, get rid of almost everything and break free of any unnecessary tethers. But we’d just planned and hosted a huge event the weekend before leaving, so many chores had to wait until the last minute. Stress levels maxed out.

On top of that, Aaron got sick. We just got new phones that didn’t import everything correctly. I was missing important calls and messages. I was managing all the things Aaron didn’t have enough energy to tackle. On the day we were slated to leave, he woke up very sick and he was in and out of doctor’s offices all day. We were down to just one vehicle, the van, which still needed a few things packed and organized inside. For me, the meticulous planner, I was really struggling with all these variables completely out of our control that threw our whole itinerary into chaos. Fortunately, I was able to call on my friend Amanda and a neighbor Rachel to help me get through that wild morning. I could not have done it without them.

At 4 pm, we drove to the property manager’s office, only to find the door locked and no one answering the phone. We just had to drop off keys and we’d be free to go. Since my phone still wasn’t working, I missed their return call. The business owner was on vacation, but one of her coworkers though to call me and send me an email, so as soon as I got the email, we got sorted out and hit the road.

It was hot and sunny, a rare turn for such a wet and chilly spring. All I wanted was ice cream. We stopped at Sweet Spot in La Pine to fill that need, a wonderful way to lift our spirits after a really rough week.

Since the next day’s plan included spending time at the Glide Wildflower Show, we drove down along the North Umpqua River looking for a place to camp. Snow filled the woods, blocking access to many sites. But we arrived at a lovely little snow-free campground called Boulder Flat and paid our ten bucks to spend a night along the river. The water poured loudly down the river bank, drowning out the sounds of our neighbor’s radio and screaming baby. It was perfect. I made some ramen with soft-boiled eggs on our induction cooktop and we ate comfortably in the van. As much as I love tent camping, in that moment I truly appreciated how simple it was to park, make food, eat food and retire.

Since Aaron was still very sick, I set up my hammock above a bed of greenery and trillium while he slept in the van. I took a deep breath, looked up at the stars and dreamt of easier times ahead.

If you’ve been following along on Instagram, you likely wouldn’t have known any of this was happening behind the scenes. It’s a place to share the highs and stuff away the lows. But both things can be true at once; we’re enjoying beautiful hikes, delicious meals at the coast and gorgeous wildflowers while also enduring illness, van organization snafus and a lost wallet. Oh, I haven’t mentioned the lost wallet yet!

The next day, in a state of illness-induced stupor I suppose, Aaron lost his wallet. We drove to both places it might have fallen out of his pocket, but to no avail. Feeling utterly defeated and depleted, he got on the phone to deal with all the things you need to do when you lose your credit card, debit card and license. Meanwhile, I ran to the nearby taco shop to get us some lunch. We didn’t need a complete meltdown on the second dat of our trip.

I’m hoping that all the bad and annoying stuff is going to happen all at once and then the universe will leave us alone for a while. No matter how much you plan, anticipate obstacles, prepare mentally and physically for a thing, stuff is bound to go sideways. That’s true of life in general but especially for a mobile life. We hope that our daily readings from The Vagabond’s Way: 366 Meditations on Wanderlust, Discovery, and the Art of Travel will help keep us grounded and connected to what we’re doing and why.

As I write this, I’m sipping coffee at a deck overlooking the Siuslaw River. At the table next to me, a couple of 80-year old men are sharing old Hollywood stories. Aaron’s feeling almost entirely better. We’ve gone on a few lovely hikes so far: Wolf Creek Falls, Kerby Flat, Cape Ferrelo, Indian Sands, Floras Lake, Otter Point, the Oregon Dunes, Lake Marie. Look them up! I haven’t decided how much writing I’ll do on this blog, but since I enjoy sharing snippets to Instagram, I’ll keep up on that pretty regularly. Stay tuned for more, as I’m sure I’ll have plenty of stories to tell as the journey continues.

California mistmaiden (Romanzoffia californica)