Ascending the Treeline: TD&H Mountain Hike

After experiencing the Oregonian coast and a few quiet trails nestled within the Columbia River Gorge, come October 2011, I realized that there was one main area around Portland that I hadn't yet explored; The Wilderness around Mount Hood. With the weather threatening to turn in the coming weeks, I knew I didn't have much time before the snow started falling, so I once again packed up Kino and my backpacking gear in the car and headed towards the mountain. I knew litte of the area, but I had read about a trail that led to the picturesque Mirror Lake. Beyond it, followed a path to the top of Tom, Dick & Harry mountain. This would be my goal for the weekend.

In about an hour and thirty minutes, I noticed the trailhead and parking area off of Route 26, but continued past it into the small ski-town of Government Camp, where I would purchase a few last minute supplies and a pair of Northwest Forest passes, since I was planning on parking my car overnight. After finding a space near the trailhead, I hooked Kino's expandable leash up to my pack, fitted his saddle pack, which contained his food and some extra water, and crossed a small foot bridge to start my way up the trail. Seconds after leaving the view of the road, I felt swallowed by the forest, and all the distractions of the modern world washed away.

As the trail wound up around through the trees, I passed over a small wooden footbridge over Mirror Creek before starting up a moderate incline. Here I squeezed by a young Asian family whose children were nothing less than fascinated by Kino. For the next mile and a half, the children followed us up through the switchbacks, making coyote calls and playing hide and seek behind the trees. On most days, I would've thought this was cute. Today...not so much. It had been a stressful week of work back in Portland and I was anxious to get away. When I finally reached the trail fork for the Mirror Lake loop, they went one way and I continued up the mountain on the other. From this point forward, I would have nearly the entire trail to myself.

Mirror Lake is exactly as its namesake describes. On a crisp day with Mount Hood in clear view, a perfect reflection of the glacial peaks can be seen reflected in the pool. Today however, although the base of the mountain was perfectly visible, its higher elevations were obscured by clouds. Although the best views and picnic spots are along the eastern shore, due to the cloud cover I continued southwest towards the ominous cliff summits of Tom, Dick and Harry Mountain. Just past the lake, about a half mile up the hill, the trail crosses by a slag slide where I was able to see my first striking view of Mount Hood and a vivid perspective of the ZigZag valley below. With the fall colors of the foliage around me accenting the grey'ing skies, I found myself pausing in awe. This is exactly what I had come here for, and I hadn't seen anything yet.

After a few more miles of climbing through through the steep north slopes of Tom, Dick and Harry Mountain, I emerged into thick remnants of rhododendron that would be much more vibrant in the early summer. The trail continued along the slope and broadened out into a flat crest. Here, Kino and I found an absurdly large rock cairn, nearly seven feet tall and a good 12 to 15 feet across. The light was waning and I knew that I didn't have much daylight left, so I decided to set up camp here. The summit of the mountain wasn't high above me, but it was still another mile to two to the top and knowing that it was above the tree line, I felt that this would be my best option in this time of day for building a fire.

Our night on the ridge was cold, but fairly dry. I was able to build a fairly sufficient fire to heat up my chili, but with the open sky above us, the temperature dropped rapidly and the small fire I had going wasn't enough to warm us. Around 10pm, Kino and I climbed in our tent and bundled up for the night. It was peaceful up there, on that mountain. Even the small amount of drizzle and rain that passed over us in the night didn't dampen the experience. If anything, it added a new level to our calm and we slept peacefully until first light.

Leaving the tent and the rest of my things behind, I continued up the mountain with Kino just after dawn. Our first mile or so passed through a yellow lodgepole forest, then drastically rose up a rocky slope towards the western edge of the summit. As we emerged above the tree line, the last leg of the trail scrambled over a face of broken rock before cresting the first of its three summits. As we reached the top, the full glory of Mount Hood came into view. Unlike the day before, there was no cloud cover over the mountain this time, although a field of low-lying fog was creeping across the valleys and threatened to overcome the mountain at any time. Taking advantage of the moment, Kino and I sat on the ridge and basked in the view, unsure as to when I would be able to set my sights on it again in the coming winter months. We then followed the ridge to the second, higher summit where I found us a perfect resting spot atop the cliffs that lead down towards Mirror Lake over one thousand feet below us.

I think we stayed up there for a good hour, soaking in the vistas when suddenly, completely out of nowhere, our visibility was limited to a good twenty feet at best. A thick cloud had over come the mountain and where before, as I was able to peer straight down into the valleys below, it now felt as if we were standing in a strange twilight zone, unsure of where each path or step may take us. It was time to get down. Carefully.

We arrived back at the campsite safely, I packed up our gear and we quickly descended the mountain through the dense fog and mist, which only got more interesting the further down we went. As Kino and I passed Mirror Lake, the effect of morning mists rose from the waters, stopping us in our tracks to watch the unseemingly inorganic effect take place. With only about a mile and a half left, we were back at the car within twenty minutes, packed and ready to head back down into Portland. Exhausted from the hike, Kino slept soundly in the back, spread across the bed of my Jeep and letting the hum and buzz of the engine send him appropriately into dreamland.

My first experience around M0unt Hood was exceptional and although I would have plans to explore different areas of the wilderness in the months to come, little did I know that I would find myself back on this very same trail only four months later, but in very different conditions.

Summer Hike Series: Birthday on the Clatsop Trail

July 24th is my birthday. I've had a few great ones, most of which included a night out with all of my friends, intimate dinners with a girlfriend, or traveling home to hang out a bit with my family. Maybe even a combination of all the above. This year however, was a bit different. By this point, I had made a few good friends here in town, but unfortunately, most of them were out of town for the weekend and I found my celebration options narrow themselves down to only a few. So, on the morning of July 24th, I grabbed my pack, leashed up Kino and headed for the coast. The last time I was out there, I noticed a coastal trail leading north from Indian Beach. It would be a fairly short hike, but I couldn't think of a better way to end the day.

To reach Indian Beach from Portland, you travel about an hour or so westbound on SR 26 until you hit Hwy 101, which follows the western coastline from Mexico all the way to Canada. Once you merge on to 101 south, drive about two miles until you see signs for Cannon Beach and Ecola State Park. Follow the sign into Ecola, pay the daily visit rate and after a three mile winding pass through an old growth coastal forest, you'll arrive at the beach. I parked my car here, tossed my pack on my back and along with Kino, started heading up the trail.

The first part of the trail rises sharply to the top of the bluffs, then levels out through some thick shrubbery (insert Monty Python jokes here), then switchbacks further up the bluffs in the midst of a dense forest of redwood and pine. After about three and a half miles, the trail spurs off towards the designated campsites, a small clearing that is dotted with adirondack shelters, centered around a huge fire pit. Knowing that I was about 400 yards away from the overlooks, I kept along the side trail until I hit a small clearing on top of the bluff. With the waves crashing along the shore a good 500 feet below me and a perfect view of Tilamook Lighthouse in the distance (yes, this is the very same Lighthouse from Goonies), I found this to be the perfect spot to set up camp.

The night was fairly uneventful, as it mostly consisted of my trying and failing miserably to make a fire from the dampened wood scattered around the area, but it was truly one of the more perfect birthday evenings I could have asked for. There were no complications, no worries about everyone making it home safe, ...no thinking about my age. It was just quiet, and Kino and I soaked up every minute of it. The stars where out and we both dozed off for a bit, staring through the canopy at the clusters of endless stars above us. I'll almost never look at them the same again. It was sensational.

I woke up the next morning to the hypnotizing sound of the surf and the sensation of a dense moisture all around me. When I opened up the tent, I found myself in the midst of one of the thickest fogs I had ever encountered. It didn't last long, maybe fifteen minutes at the most before clearing away, but for those first few moments, the air was incredibly disorientating. Even Kino was a bit leery of steeping more than a few feet away from the tent. However, when it did dissipate, I found myself in the midst of a pocket within the fog cloud and could see the outer edge of the pocket rolling across the sea towards the coast, engulfing Tillamook rock over and over again as fingers of mist crept up the bluffs and into the trees. It was nothing less than striking.

I took my time packing up my belongings and began heading back to the car, but when I finally did, I made sure to find the hidden army bunkers that dot this part of the coast. To my surprise, I found that the years of abandonment, neglect and the waning light from the night before hid them completely from my view until the morning. Covered in moss and overgrown between the trees, the bunkers have almost completely blended into the forest. I couldn't get it, but you definitely see the outside structure, once you realize what you're looking at.

Kino and I then descended back through the fog and the brush to reach the car about an hour later. The beach was surprisingly empty for what appeared to be a decent surfing day, so I let Kino stretch his legs a bit on the sand. I think he's happiest when he runs, even though he can't quite move as quickly or gracefully as he used to. Regardless, I can tell it's therapeutic for him and I let him go and get it out of his system as often as possible.

I've only been back to the coast once since that day, but I plan on heading back out that way again shortly and discovering a few of the smaller towns that make up the Oregon coastline. It is, after all, only an hour or so away. Frankly, I have no excuse for not going more often than I actually do. And next time, I don't need to rationalize it with a birthday.