Seagulls vs. Cormorants Smackdown, Oceanside Beach 6-9-11

An entertaining place to witness birdy hi jinks is Oceanside Beach Recreation Site. It’s crowning geological feature, a collection of sea stacks called Three Arch Rocks, is a breeding ground for both seagulls and cormorants and nesting goals between the two often erupts into comedy.

An interesting route delivers you to the stage. First, you walk north along Oceanside Beach until you see an ominous door in the rock at the base of Maxwell Point that looks like it should have “Abandon all hope, ye who enter here” carved above it.It’s pretty dark in there. 

Just remember, go toward the light!

When you see the Pacific Ocean framed in basalt at the other end, take a moment.

Stumble out onto the beach where the dim overcast skies and dark, wet sand now seem ludicrously bright.

Come to your senses and ogle the beautiful rock garden of sea stacks at the other end of the beach.

The largest, Finley Rock, is quite sexy. Just ask the puffins.

The smaller stacks are known hangouts for Western Seagull gang members.

If you look closely, you can see them plotting evil. All those black dots in the sky are a self-tossing salad of seagulls, puffins, Murres, and cormorants.

The cagey buggers. They feign indifference and pretend to preen but they’ll steal your hubcaps and your trail mix the second your back is turned.

Meanwhile, the gentle Pelagic Cormorants tend their rocky rookery on the cliffs above. They eye everybody who approaches with suspicion.

At the other end of the beach is a grassy knoll with a side order of rock slide.

If you monitor the lowest ledge of green, you will see a constant conveyor belt of cormorants flying over, harvesting mossy thatch to line their nests, and flying back.

Sometimes they work as a team….

…sometimes they invite their friends.

Seagull attack!

Not sure what the gulls were on about unless they suspected hidden food in that grass, but the twitchy cormorants were no match for the bullies. The cormorants would retreat and regroup every couple of minutes, congregating on the opposite cliffs to ponder their next move (which mainly consisted of waiting for the gulls to get bored and leave long enough for them to make another thatch run). This scenario played out again and again for hours.

Having my fill of the ornithological “turf” wars, I turned my attention to the marvels at my feet, like future sea caves being carved out of the columnar basalt….

…with cute but shy rock lice lodged in the cracks….

…and glistening sprays of seaweed draped along the beach.

One rock in particular was very popular among the meditation fans. We all took turns planting ourselves on the summit like flags and staring out into the liquid Ohm.

No mantra was required. The waves lulled the entire universe with music that rumbled and moaned like a Gregorian chant.

The only people really singing along were between 400 and 2000 pounds each and furry. Steller Sea Lions packed their own bandstand daily with a sold out show called Seal Rock. Humans got the cheap seats on the beach, too far away to enjoy their antics, but if you were smart enough to bring opera glasses or a digital zoom….

Back at the parking lot in Seaside, I was treated to one last event in the form of flying humans. Paragliders don’t quite have the acrobatic skills of the seagull but their gangs are far more docile.

And All the Trails of Forest Park 2011

Now that I have Wildwood Trail, the roads, and all the firelanes under my belt, I’ve decided to polish off the remaining trails. Many more trails exist than the “Hiking and Running Guide to Forest Park” map shows because quite a few have been recently added. However, the All Trails Challenge webpage of the Forest Park Conservancy has a comprehensive list with a brief description of insertion points for each. The elevations and mileages I’ve posted below are mostly taken directly from this list.

The trails are arranged here from north to south, rural to urban respectively. In a nutshell, I can tell you that if you want a quiet hike of sublime serenity, your odds are better if you stick to the trails north of Firelane 1. That seems to be the cut off line for the mobs of frenzied trail runners and most of their organized races. There’s less noise pollution from the city traffic up there, too. A good rule of thumb is that any trail whose dirt section is wider than 18″ is a popular one and is likely to be an oozing mud pit in the wet winter months. Narrower, overgrown routes will deliver a more natural forest experience.

The Tao of Slug 6-25-11 to 7-20-11 Wildwood Trail 5,160′ elevation gain, 30.16 miles RT

The longest and most varied route in all of Forest Park, spanning it’s entire length from north to south. I wrote up my extended adventures on this trail in a separate post. 8-30-11 Keyser Trail 50′ elevation gain, 0.70 miles RT

I’m pretty sure that Keyser Trail is the little divergence that loops south off Firelane 10 and then returns back to it again but I’m waiting for confirmation on this from the Forest Park Conservancy. At any rate, it looked more like a firelane to me than a trail, so I did it during my firelane sorties. 8-30-11 Linnton Trail  420′ elevation gain, 1.16 miles RT

At the very bottom of Firelane 10 is the top of Linnton Trail, which will lead you down a veritable ladder of tiny switchbacks to a creek, a bridge, and a Y junction right after that (above). If you take the path to the right, you’ll head straight to a bus stop on Highway 30 (right). The left path goes up some stairs and out of the Forest Park boundary. It curves around a while and ends up branching out into multiple user trails, the most obvious of which ends at NW 3rd Street in the city of Linnton, itself. There is zero parking there and multiple unfriendly dogs, so turn around fast if your hiking partner is on a leash.

Cartilage lichen Ramalina farinacea 9-29-11 Cannon Trail 160′ elevation gain, 0.64 miles RT

Cannon Trail connects the Wildwood Trail parking area to the Leif Erikson Road parking area with an easy, ambling trail suitable to any hiking experience level. For these reasons, it tends to be crowded but at least it is a cinch to follow. Traffic on Germantown Road is audible the length of this route.

9-29-11 Tolinda Trail 430′ elevation, 1.5 miles RT

Tolinda Trail is unmarked at its origins on Leif Erikson Road, a mere mile from Leif’s Germantown Road trailhead. If you look for a wooded birm with a trail sneaking around it to the left at milemarker 10.2, that’s Tolinda (below). The trail takes a pretty sharp downhill turn from there and stays relatively steep the entire way to it’s own parking area off Germantown Road (just Google 9401 NW Germantown Road, it’s right across the street from there). The route is rife with toe-stubbing tree roots and knots, so keep your eyes peeled. When you get to the little open grassy patch, look around a bit because it’s absolutely blanketed with tasty Pacific Blackberry. A few hundred feet above that spot is a collection of tall, rotting snags where I saw three different kinds of woodpeckers in the space of five minutes: Red Shafted Northern Flicker, Red Breasted Sapsucker (right), and Pileated Woodpecker. They didn’t pause very long for paparazzi but I did get serenaded by all three:  very nice. Hanna, thanks so much for hiking with me, it was a kick talking with you. And Pippin is a hottie!

6-30-11 Hardesty Trail 380′ elevation gain, 1.12 miles RT

Hardesty connects the top of Firelane 7 with Leif Erikson just before Leif’s 9 mile marker. It’s short, steep, and quiet, a convenient tangent to avoid the crowds in the Springville parking area who usually opt for the road or the firelane.  About 180 yards south of Hardesty’s intersection with Wildwood Trail, on the north side of the trail, stands the noted Big Stump, a remnant of old-growth cedar with a pair of springboard notches cut into its trunk that resemble eyes.

Banana Slug inspecting a slime mold. Mmmmm, tasty slime mold.

7-4-11 Trillium Trail 200′ elevation gain, o.50 miles RT

There are a couple truly steep places in Forest Park but Trillium Trail is like a StairMaster that’s out of control. It’s not even really a trail, it’s more like tree roots holding hands. If you want a quad workout, head here first, just watch out for the wild bee hive in the tall, lightning-scorched snag on the west side of the trail about a third of the way down. If you can avoid getting stung, you’ll enjoy the fastest route to the middle of Wildwood Trail (milepost 18.57) at an intersection decorated by the North Fork of Doane Creek. 9-17-11 Ridge Trail 980′ elevation gain, 2.70 miles RT

The most beautiful trail in Forest Park has a dirty little secret. It starts out okay at about a third of the way down Firelane 7 with a straight, shallow shot through the trees. At Wildwood Trail, it shifts onto a steeper track with a more open understory. Below Leif Erikson, it opens up into full-on cathedral ceilings of Vine Maple and makes elegant, sweeping loops around ridges and drainages (above). Be advised: the “Hiking and Running Guide to Forest Park” is wrong. It shows Ridge Trail jogging to the right where it crosses Wildwood but here it crosses directly. It shows Ridge Trail crossing Leif Erikson directly but it actually jogs left (north) before doing so. The dirty part comes near the bottom. There are several user trails striking off into the woods from Ridge Trail but do not take them. Let’s just say that where Firelane 7 and Waterline Road have transient camps, Ridge Trail has a transient metropolis. I stopped counting after I reached nine camps. Yes, you read that right, and all of them are carpeted with garbage and debris. Signs have been erected at a place close to the bottom where Ridge Trail makes a Y and travels to two separate insertion points along Bridge Road. The signs encourage you to make a right and I concur: most of the camps are to the left. Unfortunately, so is a spectacular view of the St. John’s Bridge, but for one lone tree (above left).  This left route makes one switchback and sends you to a bridge that lifts Bridge Road over a deep creek gulch and a private home. However, if you follow the signs at the Y junction obediently and turn right instead, you won’t miss out. When you see a well-constructed wooden bridge up ahead, get your camera ready because the St. John’s Bridge has more than one good side (below).  The end of the trail is actually those concrete stairs with the metal railings that you’ve probably passed on Bridge Road and wondered about (right). The sidewalk there leads to bus stops on Highway 30. Atop the concrete wall is a disintegrating patio with evidence of what might have been a viewing area for the St. John’s Bridge at one time. But trees grow and views disappear.

9-29-11 Wiregate Trail 180′ elevation gain, 0.62 miles RT

The only quick way to get to Wiregate Trail is to take Trillium Trail down to Wildwood Trail from the Springville Road parking area…so you can add that bit of incline to Wiregate’s otherwise benign descent. Wiregate itself is fairly wide on its lower half–obviously a former road–but because it hugs a creek so close in such a steep-sided little gully, there’s a fair amount of year round moisture and the usual accompanying Stinging Nettle to contend with. Wiregate drops you off on Leif Erikson at a nice bend at mile marker 7.13 where the selfsame creek opens a bit into a mini-meadow.

9-25-11 Quarry Trail 70′ elevation gain, 0.25 miles RT

You won’t find Quarry Trail on any map or even Google, it’s that new. The All Trails Challenge by the Forest Park Conservancy neglected to list it. But don’t let that stop you, it’s worth taking this little connector from Leif Erikson to Maple Trail. It’s easy to find:  that famous rest spot on Leif with the picnic table where Saltzman Road passes by, look for the Quarry Trail sign right there in the Himalayan Blackberries. The brambles only last a few yards, then the soft, moist forest takes over and you’ll enjoy a gentle grade for about a quarter mile. I saw my first Northern Pacific Tree Frog here (above left). He was about two inches long and in his brown morph, attempting to blend in with the leaves. Somebody should have told him to stop hoppin’. 9-25-11 Maple Trail 1230′ elevation gain, 7.04 miles RT

Maple Trail is officially my favorite trail in all of Forest Park. It’s peaceful, lovely, easy on the knees, and relatively devoid of people–I’ve never seen more than two on the entire trail. It crosses two sizable creeks, providing critters of the aquatic persuasion (above) as well as the furry sort that chatter aloft (below). At just over 7 miles long, round trip, Maple Trail gives you a decent workout, too. The best way to reach it is to park at the top of Firelane 2 and head down, taking a left (north) on Wildwood Trail. Just a few hundred feet up from there is Maple Trail.  There are five intersections with firelanes, trails, and connectors before Maple concludes at a bend in Leif Erikson (milepost 6.44), so you have plenty of options. Wear the waterproof gear if it’s raining; you’ll brush by so many dripping leaves that you’ll be wringing out your pants at the end of the day.

Looking down to Maple Trail from Leif Erikson near mile post 6.4.

9-23-11 Cleator Trail 200′ elevation gain, 0.48 miles RT

Short ‘n steep, Cleator Trail connects Wildwood Trail at milepost 15.47 to Leif Erikson at milepost 5.45. It’s so steep in one spot that trail crews have worked hard to divert the straight route into a serpentine dance of mini-switchbacks in order to prevent erosion. It’s kinda cool looking and makes it a more interesting trail. Also interesting are the frenetic little pine cone-chewing residents (above left).

Mossy Maze Polypore mushroom 9-23-11 Koenig Trail 240′ elevation gain, 0.56 miles RT

Koenig Trail is a Thimbleberry Lover’s delight. It’s absolutely lined with them from its beginnings at milepost 14.23 on Wildwood Trail to it’s intersection with Leif Erikson at milepost 6.44 below. That part is moderately steep, then it jogs north slightly as it crosses Leif and continues on down in a more gentle decline to Maple Trail near Saltzman Creek.

Discarded termite wings from a recent swarm.

9-17-11 Chestnut Trail 240′ elevation gain, 0.98 miles RT

Like Nature Trail beside it, Chestnut Trail is easy on the knees. A gradual incline and nice bridge make it a very sweet ride along Rocking Chair Creek. Keep your eyes open for the bronze plaques offering uplifting sentiments (right).  Near it’s intersection with Leif Erikson, Chestnut sports a sound deterrent to illegal mountain biking (below).  9-17-11 Nature Trail 310′ elevation gain, 0.56 miles RT

The Nature Trail probably has the kindest incline of all. Used for educational nature walks for children and adults, it is well maintained and mild. Gooey critters abound (left)(below). Getting to it involves a little downhill stepping on Firelane 1 but after that, it’s very smooth. Just past the halfway mark, it jogs upwards slightly and offers a short connector to Wildwood Trail above. If you decide instead to continue downward along Rocking Chair Creek, you’ll pass through the only gate I’ve seen on a trail in Forest Park (below) and get a good look, up close and personal, at a recent rockslide where Chestnust meets Leif Erikson. Don’t worry, the trail is diverted around it. 7-13-11 Morak Trail 40′ elevation gain, 0.2 miles RT

This handy little connector to Wildwood Trail is far curvier than the map depicts. It cuts Firelane 1 in half so you can hop onto Wildwood at milemarker 10.65 instead of all the way up at milemarker 11.18. There’s not much else to say except that it’s a cool name, Morak.

Into every caterpillar’s life, a little rain must fall.  9-14-11 Alder Trail 290′ elevation gain, 1.68 miles RT

Alder Trail is a quiet, peaceful stroll. All the trail runners tend to pound along Wildwood, Dogwood, and Wild Cherry, leaving Alder to itself. You can tell this because Alder is a mere 18″ wide as opposed to the broader, eroded track of those popular thoroughfares. It’s a delightful way to get onto Leif Erikson if you don’t want to deal with the parking situation on Thurman Street, too. Down at the bottom, you’ll pass through a beautiful stand of its namesake, a grove of Oregon Alder (below) where a bronze plaque describes the trail’s origins in 1980. 9-14-11 Keil Trail 80′ elevation gain, 0.34 miles RT

Keil Trail takes you quickly to the Dogwood/Wild Cherry intersection from a parking area 0.5 miles north of the official Birch Trail parking lot. Flat as a pancake for the most part, it sports a wooden fence reminiscent of the ones settlers used to construct at the turn of the century (right).

9-14-11 Dogwood Trail 470′ elevation gain, 2 miles RT

A little straighter than Wild Cherry Trail, Dogwood follows a ridge for most of its journey and has a few large switchbacks. Very popular with the trail runners, it’s neither a quiet nor solitary experience. Because it’s one of the first few intersections with Leif Erikson from the Thurman Street access, it gets that crowd, too. The most popular (read: busy and noisy) loop in all of Forest Park is the one that encompasses Dogwood, Wild Cherry, and Leif Erikson. If you don’t want to be alone in the forest, go there. You won’t be.

Dryad’s Saddle fungus catching raindrops. 9-14-11 Wild Cherry Trail 500′ elevation gain, 1.76 miles RT

The weirdest experience I’ve had yet in Forest Park involved Wild Cherry Trail. I was walking along Leif Erikson when I heard a man shouting “Wild Cherry! Wild Cherry!” at the top of his lungs as he ran the length of Wild Cherry Trail above me at full bore. When he exploded out onto Leif, he seemed to be in some sort of ecstatic trance, eyes squinted shut, long hair and beard whipping around his face as he ran. I only laughed and waved. Hey, whatever gets ya there, buddy. Enlightened hippies notwithstanding, Wild Cherry Trail is an easy hike thanks to some impressive trail improvements that recently cured the muddy spots. The route is still curvy and studded with root bumps and knots, though, so watch your step. A majestic Buckeye tree arches giant limbs over the trail just past the picnic table near the Leif Erikson intersection (above).  Wild Cherry is another very popular route with trail runners (see Dogwood Trail above).

Even caterpillars have redheads. 9-29-11 Birch Trail 130′ elevation gain, 0.44 miles RT

Birch Trail is the loveliest little access trail to Wildwood Trail in all of lower Forest Park. Its switchback loops are gentle, its incline mild, and it plops you right on Wildwood at a nice wooden bench suitable for canoodling or a bit of meditation. The icing on the cake is the ample parking up on NW 53rd Avenue and the mowed areas there that would look pretty good with a picnic blanket spread out over them. I did witness the odd and rarely seen courting habits of the Forest Park Wheelbarrow (below). Apparently, when the trail crews knock off for the day, the wheelbarrows all get together and do a little canoodling of their own. 9-30-11 Aspen Trail 170′ elevation gain, 0.46 miles RT

Aspen Trail is probably a mystery to anyone who doesn’t live in the adjacent neighborhood, but it’s a very handy way to reach Wildwood Trail without having to deal with the hair-pulling parking situation at the end of Thurman Street. Here’s what you do: park as close as you can get to 3418 NW Thurman Street and look for these public stairs on the north side of the street ascending into a grove of bamboo (below). In fact, it’s bamboo all the way up, you’ll think you’re in China. Caveat: there’s a very large buckeye tree that releases an occasional shower of large, hard seeds (right) that will put a real damper on your day and a real dent in your noggin, so keep it moving if you’re hiking in early fall. When you reach Aspen Ave at the top, go right and look for the sign heralding Aspen Trail (below). From here on out, it’s a relatively easy incline of wide trail and sparse understory. In fact, it almost looks as if everything other than a fir and a fern has been selectively removed. The result is a very clean view, full of space. It’s a popular trail, too, full of people. 9-30-11 Lower Macleay Trail 260′ elevation gain, 1.72 miles RT

Lower Macleay is, by far, the most enchanting stroll from city to forest in all of the Portland Metro area. And, sometimes, it seems as if the entire Portland Metro area is there, getting enchanted. It’s not a good place for silent meditation but it’s definitely worth seeing the sheer elegance of Balch Creek, a rare four-season source of watery music and intermittent reflecting pools (above). The trail begins in Upshur Park, which is a clue which street you need to be on to find it. Parking on Upshur Street can be a bear during peak hours but if you park along Thurman above it, you can take the stairs down next to the bridge. The initial quarter mile segment of Lower Macleay Trail is paved to provide access for people with all abilities and leads to a nice little rock-walled patio overlooking the water. After that, the trail becomes a sometimes gravel-sometimes dirt dance partner with the creek. You are so close to the water in many spots that it’s a good idea to watch your step (below). This little waterfall (above) feeds a deep glassy pool, decorated with ferns and undulating with Cutthroat trout (below). There’s a nice wooden bridge spanning it that you can lean over during fish finding. The largest one I spotted was at least eight inches long (right) but baby trout can be found up and down Balch Creek, as well as crayfish and newts. All ya gotta do is hold still and wait.

Your reward at the end of Lower Macleay Trail–as if soaking up the dewy ambiance of some cool creek air isn’t reward enough–is the historic and picturesque Stone House (below).  Built in the mid-1930s by the Works Progress Administration (WPA) as a public restroom, its water line was destroyed by the infamous Columbus Day Storm on October 12, 1962. The structure was gutted down to its stones and left as a favorite curiosity and resting spot at Lower Macleay’s intersection with Wildwood Trail. 

You can climb stairs on either side of Stone House and check out the upper floor (below).

9-30-11 Macleay Trail 50′ elevation gain, 0.56 miles RT

Macleay Trail branches off from Wildwood Trail a few hundred feet up from Wildwood’s Cornell Drive crossing. There is a two-tier parking area on Cornell (right) and the Portland Audubon Society Sanctuary is just down the street. Traffic noise is abundant, however after the initial ascent from the road Macleay is easy and wide with a sparse understory and a spacious feel. At it’s next intersection with Wildwood, a confusing one for most, it becomes Upper Macleay.

9-30-11 Tunnel Trail 140′ elevation gain, 0.34 miles RT

Tunnel Trail will always hold a special place in my heart as the final trail I completed in my goal to hike the entire Forest Park system. It does not disappoint: it’s short, steep, ends right next to a handsome 1940 stone tunnel on Cornell Drive, has plenty of parking there as well as a grassy lawn, and it follows a moist drainage the entire way down, ensuring a steady supply of wildlife, insects, birds, giant spiders with bodies three quarters of an inch across (above left), and ornamental fungus. This one was just weird:

I also got a treat in seeing my first Pygmy Owl in the wild. He was about as large as a fat sparrow and was pretty brave when it came to perching six feet above me and peering down, unaffected. Unfortunately, he turned his head just as I snapped the photo below and I did not get another chance. It was worth it. Gary, my ears are still resonating with that Liverpool accent. Thanks for the hike, the chat, and the opportunity to pet the velvety, mouse grey Weimaraner of Brobdingnagian proportions. See you on Bennett Pass!

9-30-11 Cumberland Trail 140′ elevation gain, 0.82 miles RT

Cumberland Trail starts a little further down Wildwood Trail from Upper Macleay Trail. It’s a relatively flat, wide route to a Forest Park access at the end of Cumberland Road, which has far better parking than NW Macleay Boulevard just up the hill. Tunnel Trail branches off from Cumberland about midway along its length and plunges down a drainage to Cornell Road below.

Excellent quote on the back of a bench along one of the Macleay trails: 

9-30-11 Upper Macleay Trail 210′ elevation gain, 0.81 miles RT

Upper Macleay begins where Macleay ends at a discombobulating intersection with Wildwood Trail. There are signs helpfully pointing the way but the trails come together at such nonsensical angles that it play tricks with the mind, so don’t attempt to navigate this one in the dark. Many have lost their minds. On the other hand, since everyone pauses here, it’s not a bad place to make new acquaintances and pet friendly dogs. Like Macleay, Upper Macleay has an easy incline and an open understory. It cuts a giant switchback, making its turn at a Forest Park access at the end of NW Macleay Boulevard, then meets up again with Wildwood further down the hill. Do not look for parking on NW Macleay Boulevard, you’ll just waste a lot of gas making 3-point turns.

Pileated Woodpecker graffiti.

Well, that’s it, that’s all of Forest Park. From June to September, I made seven new friends (ten if you count the canines), obliterated a brand new pair of walking shoes, burned fifteen pounds, and brought a favorite pair of Columbia hiking pants dangerously close to the end of their life. I saw the forest in the morning, afternoon, and evening in sweltering heat, chilly fall air, dripping humidity, and intermittent rain. I feasted on wood sorrel, red huckleberries, two kinds of blackberries, Thimbleberries and Oregon Grape. I hiked upwards of 200 miles when you account for the extra stretches of access trails and the fact that most of the journeys were round trips. I learned a lot of history about the area and finally made contact with a warm body at the honorable Forest Park Conservancy. I slept better at night than I have in years.

Now, if anybody stops me in Forest Park and asks if I know where a trail goes, I can proudly and without hesitation, reply, “Hell, yeah.”

Happy (slug) trails to you, until we meet again….

Forest Park Firelanes 2011

Historically, Forest Park has had only three major fires. Two burned in the late 1800s before the park’s official inception. The most recent broke out in 1951 and burned 2,400 acres, a high-intensity crown fire that swept over 25% of the park. Pretty intense. That explains the absence of large, old growth trunks around there. Since then, Portland has installed mechanisms to combat future damage to its precious 2025 hectares of maple, fir, and hemlock. Firelanes were bulldozed through the forest to provide quick access to any blaze foolish enough to try to burn there. Most of these roads are still in good condition today, with much of their gravel intact, others have been reduced by time and nature to meandering dirt ruts. All of them are open to foot traffic, a few to bikes and horses. They are an easy way to get quickly into the heart of the park for a little shade, some peace and quiet, or your standard tooth gritting, sweat dripping work out.

Though they are numbered through 15, I only found twelve firelanes on the map. I’ll post them as I do them as well as any intriguing side trails I run across. Elevation gains are approximations rounded to the nearest ten vertical feet via Google Earth, mileages to the nearest tenth of a mile.

8-22-11 Firelane #1 955′ elevation gain, 4 miles RT

Firelane 1 is the mother of all firelanes. It’s steep, it’s long, it has both deep forest (above) and open meadow, it affords an impressive view of distant volcanoes and the industry along Swan Island on the Columbia River, and it’s accessible from either Skyline Boulevard at the top or NW St. Helens Road at the bottom (on the north side of the Brazil Electric Motors building). Actually, “steep” doesn’t quite cover it. I’ve done this one in the muddy, slimy wintertime and I distinctly remember sliding down large portions of it while uttering select expletives. You’d better have darned good brakes on your mountain bike.

Along one of the gnarliest inclines is a lovely grove of Madrone, the largest in the park. It’s artistic russet bark curls back at this time of year to reveal colors within colors, it’s slick yellow leaves litter the forest floor (below). I took a little detour and dropped my pack in the middle of it to meditate. Every time the wind blew, a cascade of leaves fluttered to the ground around me like a hundred paper airplanes. I could have stayed in that spot all day. Next time, I’ll bring along an extra can of mosquito repellent and a pillow so I can.

Almost to the bottom, Firelane 1 jags right and joins the open field cleared beneath the power line. Forest shadows and slugs fall away and bright sunlight suddenly illuminates birds and butterflies darting around large Blue Elderberry bushes. The berries are edible and one of these days I’m going to work up the courage to try them. In the meantime, I’m very happy with the blackberry harvest….

At a high point beneath the power line, there’s an expansive view of the miasma of industrial buildings and docks along the Columbia River as well as distant Mt. St. Helens, Mt. Rainier, and Mt. Adams. You can even catch a glimpse of a few downtown skyscrapers. They’re majestic but I’m more enamored of beautiful things closer to the ground, like cute garter snakes.

8-18-11 Firelane #2 510′ elevation gain, 1.66 miles RT (Foot traffic only)

This route is Berry Row. There is so much Thimbleberry and Pacific Blackberry you almost don’t need to pack a lunch. Pacific Blackberry (left) differs from the usual Himalayan in that it is a lower, smaller plant with a more slender, blueish cane and far less deadly thorns. The fruit has a subtler flavor than the Himalayan with less of a winey tang. Lots of open space between the forest floor and upper canopy lends a cathedral feel to Firelane 2 in spots. It’s narrower than Firelane 3 and sweeps up and down in giant arches like a roller coaster. There’s zero parking at the hidden gate on Skyline Boulevard but about a thirty feet south of there across from NW Kelly Circle, there’s a gravel pull out large enough for two vehicles. The trail looks deceptively socked in from the outside but once you pass through that chain link fence, don’t worry: it all opens up.

8-18-11 Firelane #3 480′ elevation gain, 2 miles RT

This one is very popular with bikers, you can even see it on Google Earth. It’s easy to access from Skyline Boulevard if you turn into the community called Thunder Crest and continue to the end of the paved drive. There is no parking, as a very sternly worded sign at the gate attests, but you can leave your vehicle outside the entrance of the Skyline Memorial Gardens just up the road from there. Firelane 3 is relatively straight and just under a mile long (below), hooking up with Maple Trail 15 feet before Leif Erikson. There are Himalayan Blackberries at the top and a tiny hole in the trees at the bottom that affords a bit of a view of the industry along the Columbia River.

9-23-11 Firelane #4 —’ elevation gain, — miles RT

I stumbled upon Firelane 4 while looking for something else. It’s represented on the map as an unnamed route that begins shortly after milepost 5 on Leif Erikson and heads downward along some power lines (below). If you want the jungle experience, this is your firelane. It’s so socked in with Himalayan Blackberry and Thimbleberry that I was wishing for a machete by the time I got to the intersection with Maple Trail. I recommend taking a sheep dip in Deet before striking out on this one. If you continue down Firelane 4 and take the left route up the hill, you’ll  come to a nice look out under a large Doug fir with a low skirt that provides shade like a tent.

8-28-11 Firelane #5 455′ elevation gain, 2.4 miles RT

Firelane 5 is another popular one with bikers, mostly because it originates in the Saltzman Road parking lot and thus has a lot of exposure to the incoming hordes. It winds back and forth on an incline less steep than other firelanes and launches onto a couple tangents. The first tangent leads to a small open field at one end and a “secret” trail looping back onto Saltzman Road at the other, a trail that seems a little too wide and pounded down to be a true secret (below). The second tangent literally leads nowhere, but it’s a soothing, unpopulated nowhere with openness and sunshine. Though not on the map, Firelane 5 does in fact connect with Leif Erikson and a bizarre monument perches at the junction: a strange pair of small, moisture-sealed buildings upholstered in moss (below). An enigmatic bumpersticker decorates one of them, keeping Portland weird. Note: Firelane 5 has multiple sharp, blind curves on a narrow track that can and will bring you face to face with a mountain biker who is traveling fast. Be alert in case they’re not.

Pearly Everlasting

8-14-11 Firelane #7, 7A  990′ elevation gain, 4.25 miles RT (Foot traffic only)

Firelanes 7 and 7A are also known as Gas and Oil Line Roads, respectively. They start out wider than a two lane street that stays relatively flat for almost a mile, then they branch into separate routes that each narrow to a steep and curvy trail. Oil Line Road (7A) is decorated with an ocean of Swordfern and ends at Leif Erikson in an ugly, eroded wall so steep, it is nearly impossible to descend–a sad testament to the devastation that unchecked mountain biking can wreak, especially when you consider that bikes aren’t even allowed on Firelanes 7 and 7A. Gas Line Road (7) has similar damage but a more manageable elevation drop. They are the only roads in Forest Park that do not bear a smidgen of gravel anywhere on them for purchase so I don’t recommend either in winter. Gas Line Road (7) continues all the way down to the bottom of the park via an almost invisible route through brambles, blow downs, and a sea of zesty, sweet Lemon Balm. (Stinging Nettle is the spitting image of Lemon Balm to the untrained eye, so don’t grab anything and smell it unless you’re absolutely sure.) The very last five hundred feet or so of road is an obvious cutbank into the basalt cliffs above and has remnants of low concrete posts where a wooden safety railing used to be. Thanks for walking part of the way and picking blackberries with me, Walter, you are a fantastic conversationalist and hiking partner!

8-18-11 Firelane #8 30′ elevation gain, 0.4 miles RT (Foot traffic only)

The shortest and sweetest firelane in all of Forest Park also seems to have the most slugs. It’s like a slug roundup. The flanks of this quiet, out of the way trail are blanketed with Piggyback Plant (right), the most I’ve seen anywhere. It meanders from an access gate 0.1 mile above the Wildwood Trail parking lot on Germantown Road down to an obvious intersection with Wildwood Trail and a burbling creek. 8-18-11 Firelane #9 430′ elevation gain, 1.3 miles RT (Foot traffic only)

This one is interesting. It starts directly across Germantown Road from the Leif Erikson parking lot, rolls through a few open, mowed meadows that make you long for a lawn chair and a tall glass of iced tea, dips down a long, steep ramp of a hill lined with Red Huckleberries, and comes to rest at a sharp turn around an old concrete reservoir that nature is elegantly returning to its original wild state (below). At this point, there are two choices. If you turn left and proceed through a couple concrete barricades on a deceivingly well traveled path you’ll swiftly come to an incline so steep that only golf and football spikes could ever get a purchase. It seems to lead down to a creek drainage but I wasn’t in the mood for injury, so I took door number two and turned right onto a paved road that drops you at the intersection of NW Wilark and NW Mackay Avenues. There are For Sale signs for several plots of land along this road and a boulder with a plaque declaring that “You are standing in Clark & Wilson Park,” a park within a park that resulted when Forest Park was created around it many years after the original gift of 18 acres was bequeathed by O.M. Clark of Clark & Wilson Lumber Company. Not sure how the For Sale signs fit into that.

8-30-11 Firelane #10 790′ elevation gain, 3+ miles RT

Firelane 10 is probably the most accessible firelane in all of Forest Park. It starts just up Germantown Road from the Leif Erikson parking lot with space for a dozen vehicles along the road. The other end starts right off the Newton Road parking lot which can accommodate even more. Somewhere in the middle is a junction with Linnton Trail that takes you right down to a route 17 bus stop on the Columbia Highway. But that’s not why I love it: it’s the preponderance of old growth firs with giant barrel trunks that makes this route memorable (below). The largest collection of these impressive trees is between the Germantown Road gate and the creek, you can’t miss ‘em. They kind of stand out. Another nice feature of Firelane 10 is a small loop close to the Newton Road access that gives you an alternative route. It has a large blow down that stops bikers in their tracks, so the road is pretty quiet.

8-31-11 Firelane #12 390′ elevation gain, 3 miles RT

This is the longest firelane in Forest Park but it’s also the most gentle incline, save a few short drops. It’s almost entirely a shaded route, which makes it a nice stroll on a hot day. A bronze plaque marks the spot where Firelane 12 parts company with BPA Road, explaining how this 73-acre “Hole in the Park” was saved from development in 1999 by Metro, Portland Parks and Recreation, the Friends of Forest Park, John Sherman, and generous donations from a myriad of nature lovers. Some of the donors are definitely keeping Portland weird. Firelane 12 bottoms out next to 12631 NW Creston Road. There is a depressing lack of parking in the confusing neighborhood (don’t believe the Thomas Guide for a second–stick to Google Maps), however a few pull outs can be claimed if you arrive early and hunt long. But beware, the gate is ferociously guarded by two loud mini-dogs and one fierce predator:

Okay, so maybe fierce isn’t quite the word. Persistent is more like it, especially as regards head scratching and tummy rubbing. He just can’t get enough, and he’ll tell you all about it. Anyway, not many dangerous predators are named Happy.

8-31-11 Firelane #13, 13A 385′ elevation gain, 1 mile RT

Although steep,  Firelane 13 does begin with an awfully nice incentive at it’s highest point: the best view from a picnic table in all of Forest Park (if you don’t mind power lines)(above). It’s also the straightest firelane until you get to a tiny spur called 13A that leads you one hill over under said power lines. If you stand at the terminus of Firelane 13 and your buddy goes to the end of 13A, you can wave to each other and take simultaneous portrait photos. I prefer 13, though, because you get a nice peak of the Sauvie Island Bridge (below). This is the one firelane that is a total dead end geographically; it only leads to those power lines and back to it’s humble beginnings at BPA Road, not a thru street.

8-28-11 Firelane #15 340′ elevation gain, 2.7 miles RT

This delightful route is now officially my favorite stroll in all of Forest Park. It begins at Skyline Boulevard at a turn-out that can handle about three cars, then gallops through the tall grass beside eight foot walls of delicious Himalayan Blackberries. It darts into the forest on a roller coaster of well-maintained gravel road, lifts you up into a high view of the Columbia River valley, then plunges back into the deep, dark green (below) to meet Firelane 12 at a well-cobbled brook.

There’s even a side trip to the prettiest open space in the park, Keilhorn Meadows, which just begs for a picnic lunch and a nap on a soft blanket (below). At the highest point of Firelane 15 there is a mowed area beneath the powerlines that gives you a clear view of  Mt. Ranier and Mt. St. Helens. At the lowest point, the junction with Firelane 12 is graced with a tiny Buddhist temple sculpted out of black stones and found treasures. Someone has even set a log before it to sit upon as you meditate beside Miller Creek (below).  I will be back to this place again and again. I can’t wait for the winter rains to fill that creek with music.

Last, but not least, the trails….

Gettin’ Elevated on the Roads of Forest Park 2011

Now that I’ve canvassed Forest Park north to south, I thought I’d do a little cross hatch action and see it east to west. This means top to bottom: the highest point is 1100′ and the lowest is 50′, a steep transition that occurs in under two miles. All the non-vehicle roads that crisscross the park go one better by extending past park boundaries from Skyline Boulevard at the very tippy top all the way down to Highway 30 along the Columbia River. To make sure I get the biggest bang for my buck, I’m doing each road round trip and touching toes to the pavement at either end. Elevation gains are approximations rounded to the nearest ten feet via Google Earth. Below is a photo montage of the sign posted at most intersections with Wildwood Trail.

7-31-11 BPA Road 970′ elevation gain, 3.6 miles RT

This is either a mountain biker’s dream or worst nightmare. It starts out lovely: flat forest road, gently undulating double track with no bramble whipping on the sides (you know what I mean)…but then something happens. Where the road and Firelane 13 part company, the bottom literally drops out from under you. The gravel beneath your feet becomes a fast moving conveyor belt of rolling curses, slips, and dropped water bottles. Luckily, the view makes up for it (above). Do it before 10 AM in the summertime to take advantage of as much shade from the Doug firs as possible, after 1 PM in the winter when you’re desperate for light. There’s parking for about four vehicles at the trailhead but it’s tough to see, so just look for the pale blue house on your left about a mile past Germantown Road, the entrance is right across the street from it. I saw the most variety of wildlife on this route than any other in the park, including….

…your standard pile of cuteness, the Northern Alligator Lizard. Hey, when you’re that cuddly, you gotta expect a little lovin’.

7-23-11 Newton Road  950′ elevation gain, 3.86 miles RT

This one is a nice, wide road that heaves up and down a few dense forest hills, then takes a sharp dive into a very deep ravine. The earth falls away there on the edge at angles so steep, they are nearly cliffs, and you feel vaulted above the river valley. The wind races through this green crevasse, bringing fresh air and luscious white noise to drown the highway. As you creep downwards towards the creek, its music rises up as well as a thousand bushes and branches that turn the trail into jungle again. At the end, it all opens out into an honest to goodness little field full of waist high grasses, asters, and tansy. And you get a great work out.

9-9-11 Waterline Road 340′ elevation gain, 1.3 miles RT (Foot traffic only)

Waterline Road is a relatively unattractive, gullied hike from top to bottom and a veritable mud slip in the wintertime. Multiple user trails have sprung up, leading to on-again, off-again transient camps on both sides. The road starts up on Skyline Boulevard right across the street from a hard liquor bar, which could explain a lot. There is one quaint reminder that the route follows a water line (below).

8-10-11 Springville Road 940′ elevation gain, 3.5 miles RT

Although BPA and Springville Roads lose about the same amount of elevation over the same number of miles, Springville descends at nearly the same rate the entire way while BPA stays relatively flat, then drops like a stone. This makes Springville a great training ground for the inclines of Mt. Hood–in fact it reminds me very much of the routes that deliver you to Timberline Trail. Past the terminus of Forest Park at the bottom, Springville becomes gravel, then paved, then deposits you right at a route 17 bus stop on Bridge Road. On the way down you can make out Mt. St. Helens in the distance if it’s clear.

8-14-11 Gas Line Road & Oil Line Roads 990′ elevation gain, 4.25 miles RT (Foot traffic only)

Gas and Oil Line Roads are also known as Firelanes 7 and 7A, respectively. They start out wider than a two lane street that stays relatively flat for almost a mile, then they branch into separate routes that each narrow to a steep and curvy trail. Oil Line Road is decorated with an ocean of Swordfern and ends at Leif Erikson in an ugly, eroded wall so steep, it is nearly impossible to descend–a sad testament to the devastation that unchecked mountain biking can wreak. Gas Line Road has similar damage but a more manageable elevation drop. They are the only roads in Forest Park that do not bear a smidgen of gravel anywhere on them for purchase so I don’t recommend either one in winter. Gas Line Road continues all the way down to the bottom of the park via an almost invisible route through brambles, blow downs, and a sea of zesty Lemon Balm. (Stinging Nettle is the spitting image of Lemon Balm to the untrained eye, so don’t grab anything and smell it unless you’re absolutely sure.) The very last five hundred yards or so of road is an obvious cutbank into the basalt cliffs above and has remnants of low concrete posts where a wooden safety railing used to be. Thanks for walking part of the way and picking blackberries with me, Walter, you are a fantastic conversationalist and hiking partner!

7-25-11 Saltzman Road 1040′ elevation gain, 7.5 miles RT

I’ve done this one to Leif Erikson a dozen times but I’ve never taken it all the way down to the highway. It is, hands down, the driest, best four-season road in all of Forest Park. I’m gonna remember it next winter when I’m dying to get out but don’t want to scrape mud off my pants afterwards for an hour. The lower terminus of Forest Park is a gate near Linnton and there is plenty of parking there, but you can trek another 0.70 miles to bus line 17 on the Columbia Highway if you want. There are several openings in the trees where a nice pic of St. John’s and/or the Burlington Northern Railroad Bridge 5.1 can be had when the sun is right. Or you can just play with the rocks (above).

7-29-11 Holman Lane 470′ elevation gain, 1.8 miles RT

This little road takes home the awards for Honkin’-est Huckleberries and Most-Butterflies-Per-Mile. The Oregon Swallowtails are everywhere but they’re cagey and they don’t pause very long for paparazzi, so get your camera ready beforehand and then wait by some wild flowers. Holman’s not a good winter hike unless you’re comfortable navigating steep hills in hip waders: lotsa mud. There is no parking at the trailhead, but the Birch Trail parking area just a hundred feet up the hill has more than enough room. Due to its slightly southern position on the hill and open understory, Holman Lane collects a lot of heat from the sun and isn’t a good choice to escape a sweltering summer afternoon. As I discovered today.

8-3-11 Leif Erikson Drive 11.22 miles RT

The elevation difference from one end to the other of Leif Erikson is only about 300′ but the road rises and lowers so often that you can claim at least 2000′ in gain if you do the whole thing round trip. I’ve already done the south half of it a dozen times, in every season, from Thurman Street to Saltzman Road. It’s pleasant but eternally crowded; summer weekends are practically a parade. About three miles in, at Firelane 1, most people turn around and it’s nothing but you and the hardcore runners and mountain bikers from there on out. That spot also heralds Leif Erikson’s swift lurch higher and deeper into the forest, away from the industrial sights and smells of Highway 30, so the ambiance is sweeter on just about every level. Both ends of the road have convenient trash cans, doggie pick up bags, and seasonal Port-a-potty’s in the summer. The south end has a spigot for water.

The section I hadn’t done yet in one fell swoop is the northern half, so that’s what I explored today. It’s got a couple places that turn positively gooey in the winter but other than that, it’s not bad. About 1.75 miles in, at the intersection with Sprinvgille Road, is an open area labeled “Scout’s Corner” by a local artist couple (look about eight feet up the tree to the right of the metal map) that honors a Golden Labrador Retriever they used to walk there. A hundred feet past that spot on the right is the Invisible House. Leif Erikson used to be a real road with houses along it and this concrete stoop is the only remaining evidence (below). I found a fascinating collection of historical photos that review the opening of Leif Erikson, the creation the of the firelanes, and the fire that made them necessary.

The intersection with Saltzman Road is another open area and has a picnic table to lunch at or collapse upon. I dragged it into the shade and did the latter. Then, I watched butterflies and snakes for half an hour, put my shoes back on, and snapped a photo of the St. John’s Bridge.

On to the firelanes….

Wildwood Adventures of Forest Park 2011

Inspired by a hiking cohort, Alex, I committed to experiencing all 30+ miles of Wildwood Trail in a consecutive fashion. I decided against his approach of doing it all in one day because I wanted to live. Instead, I broke it up into chunks and traveled at a meditative pace, absorbing each nuance at my leisure.

Wildwood Trail meanders like a jagged river up and down the hills and in and out of the drainage ravines of Forest Park. Well-maintained and easy to follow, it’s a day hiker’s paradise when you don’t feel like driving too far out of town. In fact, you don’t even have to leave Portland–at 5,100 wooded acres, it’s the largest, forested natural area within city limits in the United States. This means two things: it’s low-key and well-traveled. Not exactly the solo bushwhacks I’m used to but, hey, it beckoned.

The entire green strip is Forest Park:
View Larger Map

I accessed my starting points each day via side trails and fire lanes that are scattered throughout the park, then backtracked to my vehicle. (Large map download) This accounts for the higher mileage I racked up than just the Wildwood sections. I tried to keep it under eight miles at a crack out of consideration for my feet and an interminable distaste for humidity. Forest Park can be a dripping sauna in the summer and I am definitely one of those fall/winter types. A near-solid canopy of trees overhead and the fact that every trail is positioned on the east side of the hill meant that I had enough shade to avoid applying a single dab of sunscreen. Bugspray, on the other hand, I wore like a second skin. You pause for five seconds in Forest Park and you instantly become a vending machine for mosquitoes. DEET, hallowed be thy name.

6-25-11  Newberry Road to Newton Road  4 Wildwood miles down, 26 to go

My favorite part of Forest Park is definitely the north end. The topography is more open, the foliage understory looser, affording a better view through the trees, and there are almost no people. It’s serenity makes you feel like you are miles away from civilization. The trail is in better condition, too–drier and more even. This is probably why my planned inaugural hike of 4 miles turned into eight without a second thought.

I headed out in early evening to enjoy the cooler air and quiet. The whole earth seemed paused, holding it’s breath before exhaling into night. The secret sounds of birds and small, furry animals skittering around in the undergrowth were loud in the dim light. I received a lot of inadvertent spider web and moth kisses. White shelf fungus glowed along tree trunks. The sweet, moist smell of oxygen and green, growing things hung in the air.

A brood of Northern Red-breasted Sapsuckers cackled from a hole in a tree trunk above my head, their whiny racket reaching a fever pitch whenever the adult arrived at their hole to deliver another feeding. Millipedes and carnivorous ground beetles made like speed racers across the trail while giant Banana Slugs and Arions took their sweet, slimy time. I had a couple chats with Winter wrens; they are wicked conversationalists.

Banana slug:

A good start to my piecemeal marathon. I slept well tonight.

8.5 miles today, 8.5 cumulative total

6-27-11 Newton Road to Springville Road  7.75 Wildwood miles down, 22.25 to go

Today was humid. God, it was humid. It was so freaking humid, I don’t think I was actually hiking, it felt more like swimming. I was doing the breast-stroke through air so heavy you could pet it. Bugs were floating on the surface of it like flotsam. My plan of 8.5 miles disintegrated at the site of a short cut back to my vehicle near the end. Still, I managed to bag the section of Wildwood Trail that I wanted. Next time, though, I’m bringing a ton more water.

There was plenty of reward for toughing it out. I nudged a Western red-backed salamander off the trail to get him out of the path of trail runners. He did a slimy, jerking version of the Lambada in an effort to scare me off. It didn’t work, he was just too cute. More Red-breasted Sapsucker nests; it’s like the Sapsucker Suburbs out there. I heard a handful of robins sounding their warning screeches but didn’t spot any danger. Passing back that way again on the return trip, I paused to see what they were on about. I looked up: nothing. I looked down: nothing. I looked–Holy Crap, a Barred Owl just exploded from a small tree directly in front of me! The camouflage feathers on these guys is legendary. He calmly sailed to another perch, dragging the incensed robins with him.

My shower that night was also legendary. Nothing like rinsing off bugs, sweat, dust, sticks, spider webs, insect repellent, leaves, mud, and slug slime to make you feel ten pounds lighter.

7.75 miles today, 16.25 cumulative total

6-30-11 Springville Road to Trillium Trail 11 Wildwood miles down, 19 to go

I’ve never been on this section of the Wildwood Trail before but I’ll definitely be coming back. Not only does it form a near-perfect 4.5 mile loop that places you right back at your vehicle, but it has the most variety of topography. The trail is dense, then open, up on the ridge, then deep in a drainage, flat as a jogging track, then steep enough to make your glutes talk. On top of it all, the oldest growth of firs and hemlocks in the park live here so the trunks you pass are more magnificent and the canopy is taller.

There were more horseshoe prints on Springville Road than boot prints, so I’ll look forward to seeing some wildlife of the equine persuasion there in the future. Today, it was all about the snails. The most impressive ones–and the largest–were the Pacific Sidebands. They aren’t shy and can get pretty honking big.

Apparently, the Sapsucker Suburbs extend from one end of Forest Park to the other; I’ve passed a nest every single day now. At the intersection of Springville Road and Hardesty Trail stands a tree so ornately decorated with bright white shelf fungi that it stops you dead in your tracks. I suddenly missed my camera. Salmonberries are coming ripe all over but aren’t quite at the sweet stage yet. (Ack! Ptooey!) Wood Sorrel, with it’s lemony vinegar tang is far more refreshing to chew on.

I made a side trip down Hardesty Trail to check out the Big Stump all the maps talk about. He’s sizeable but if you stuck him in the middle of the Valley of the Giants, he’d look like a scrawny teenager in a gym full of body builders. Once you’ve seen the big boys, the young ‘uns just don’t impress anymore. The stalks of Columbia Lilies are getting ready to pop into bright orange lanterns and with all this rain, I’ve never seen them so tall. Next week should be spectacular.

5 miles today, 21.25 cumulative total

7-4-11 Trillium Trail to Firelane 3 16 Wildwood miles down, 14 to go

And now for the obstacle course portion of our show. If ever there was a section of Wildwood Trail that needed a weedwhacker and a chainsaw, this is the one. I spent half the time with my arms in the air while Stinging nettle, Thimbleberry, and Swordfern swatted me across the midriff. There were so many logs to vault over and crouch under, I stopped counting. Still, it was a beautiful day. By the by, Thimbleberry is. Not. Tasty. Take a raspberry and remove about 90% of the flavor. Now, make it mealy and soft. Lastly, make it a muddy, sweaty chore just to collect a cup of them. Pass. I’ll hold out for the super-sweet, winey blackberries in about a month, thanks.

ThimbleberriesThe trick to enjoying such a public trail on a holiday weekend is to get there early. By the time I got back, there were cars lined up, waiting for my parking spot. They should have been there at 9 AM when the air was cool, the forest was silent, and the bees in that hive right next to the trail were still asleep. I heard multiple reports that they definitely woke up later on. My own intimate wildlife encounter involved a nest of newly-hatched robins just a few feet over my head. A much sweeter sound than the Sapsuckers, to be sure. Also sweet were the F15′s flying formations overhead for the Fourth of July, their dark metal wings cutting giant patterns in the sky, their afterburners booming with indescribable power. Love that.

Swordfern

I heard a third piece of music in the forest, although a bittersweet one. Cicadas have begun their long, slow songs in the trees, wheezing like sleepy accordions in the heat. This always signals that the summer is more than half over and picking up speed into fall. I don’t know why a lingering sadness sweeps over me when I hear that tune because I adore fall above all seasons. Must be a leftover memory from school days when the freedoms of summer must come to a close. It usually accompanies a subtle but noticeable shift in the light and the length of days. Our spring was late this year, summer just began this weekend. Maybe the cicadas are confused. Or maybe they know something we don’t….

Longest day hike in over a decade today. Pretty proud.

10.5 miles today, 31.75 cumulative total

7-8-11 Firelane 3 to Morak Trail 19 Wildwood miles down, 11 to go

I’m calling this one the Avenue of Ferns. The Bracken Fern was seven feet across and five feet high, each plant. The Sword Ferns were up to my chest. It was eerie and prehistoric. I felt like I was walking through the movie set for Jurassic Park 3 and a velociraptor would burst from the green at any moment, eager to reduce my face to cranberry sauce with one bite.

Bracken fern

In reality, all I witnessed were his very, very distant descendants–Yellow and Wilson’s Warblers, Oregon Juncos and the usual noisy Towhee or two. Far more curious than clever, they succumbed to my calls without hesitation and within 30 seconds, I had a dozen or more just a few feet away. They bounced and fluttered from branch to branch, beady little eyes locked on me, a cloud of questioning tweets, chirps, and churgs filling the air around us. Cute as all get out.

Wilson’s Warbler

The closest I came to carnage was Banana Slugs. If you stick your finger about an inch in front of one and let him slowly advance upon it, he will stop, pull in his antennae, then gingerly stick them back out, wrap his mouth around your fingertip, and proceed to chew. The sensation is bizarre and comical: imagine the raspy tongue of a large dog or cow scraping along your skin, causing micro-vibrations. Not much of a threat. It was so amusing, I did it three times. The largest slug was bigger around than my finger and over twice as long, a slug body builder. I wonder if I could train him to chase the squirrels out of my garden….

Red Huckleberries

This hike was the longest I managed to go without seeing a single person. It was bliss until I came upon a large fire lane access road about the same time that people let out of work. Enter the hordes, the unwashed hordes. I’m not sure what sort of socio-political statement going without baths and deodorant makes but put me down for “No.” I’m just glad I only had to pass them once. And the wind was going the other way. And my mouth wasn’t open. I had to sniff the bugspray on my arm just to cleanse my palate. I consoled myself by munching on the first red huckleberries of the season. They’re so tiny, eight of them would barely fill a teaspoon but any sweet thing found is a treat. I just wish the Salmonberry would hurry up and ripen.

7.25 miles today, 39 cumulative total

7-13-11 Morak Trail to Cornell Road 24.75 Wildwood miles down, 5.5 to go

This extra-long leg was assisted by the fact that the red huckleberries are now ripe. I hiked and chewed. Almost every bush was decorated like a Christmas tree with edible red ornaments. The Red Elderberries were flashing even larger, more impressive displays, too. Combined with the flourescent orange of the Columbia Lilies, it was one gorgeous trail.

Red Elderberry Sambucus racemosa arborescens

I passed a tall white snag almost completely drilled with vertical rectangular Pileated Woodpecker holes, a cubist totem pole. Later on, I was treated to an exciting fly-by from the artist. They are as big as crows but they move through the trees like Lear jets, very fast and sleek. Then, they surprise you with cartoon voices too high and comical for such large creatures, they’re like the Mike Tysons of the forest. I guess it goes with the hairstyle.

Pileated Woodpecker

Around 8 PM, evening fell heavily on the trail and the humidity shot up so high I couldn’t tell if my shirt was wet from my own efforts or the air’s. The snails came out in force and so did a variation on the Arions: red slugs. Their coloring reminds you of a wet brick. Tiny white moths started floating around aimlessly. Every time I passed a patch of English Ivy, the pungent smell of it caught my attention before its leaves did. Fellow hikers do not seem to know what I mean, can’t detect the difference in aroma between Thimbleberry, Oregon Grape, and English Ivy. I guess you have to be a gardener.

Arion ater rufus variation

I decided on a whim to go farther than planned, all the way to the next road. The Portland Audubon Society buildings on Cornell were just closing and I caught a break with their nice bathroom, using the sink for a water bottle refill. Balch Creek below them is the only water way in the entire park large enough to sustain a rocky bottom and four-season waterfalls. The sound of water over rocks is a finer music than water over soil, with a broader acoustical range. It soothes like Mozart. I felt a definite inner pull to my autumn hiking range, Mt. Hood, where the glacial run offs ring out into the clear, thin air like full orchestras.

Breaking my previous record, this is now my longest solo hike in Oregon. My hamstrings and arches will vouch for me.

11.5 miles today, 50.5 cumulative total

7-20-11 Cornell Road to Oregon Zoo 30+ miles of Wildwood Trail completed

I have to admit, the only reasons I was looking forward to doing this final segment was to A: See a few tiny areas I hadn’t been to yet and B: Get ‘er done. The trail topography is steepest here and very muddy, kind of a double whammy. If you’re not wearing bug spray at this slow pace, you’re going to exhaust your list of expletives in the first mile. But don’t worry about smelling like Cutter or Off!, your scent will be handily overpowered by the constant stream of perfume-drenched joggers that pass you. This is a curiosity to me: what exactly are they all dolled up for? Each other? I started noticing them around Firelane 1. The closer you get to the city, the closer you get to “civilization” and all its bizarre vicissitudes.

Pittock Mansion

Besides the traffic noise, which is an ever present drone in the forest here, there is the delightful traffic atmosphere. Exhaust fumes hang in the humid air around Cornell and Burnside Roads so thickly that your tongue tastes like WD-40 after about 10 minutes. Luckily, I met a friendly trail runner who walked with me to Pittock Mansion and helped improve my mood–Thanks, Gary! But it would have taken Prozac in a Pez dispenser to keep me smiling on through to the Oregon Zoo. That was chaos in a bottle. Suffice it to say, this was the one time I did not take a few minutes to pause at my turning point to soak up the ambiance. The one pocket of calm in the entire day was the all-to-brief section that overlooks the Japanese Gardens. I peered a hundred feet down and spotted a few fluorescent colored Koi trolling the reflecting pools below like plump orange submarines. They were the only real wildlife of note.

The last half mile heralds the time for your favorite game and mine: “Where the #%@! is the trail?” Once you cross over SW Knights Boulevard, all bets are off. There is a trail junction every hundred yards on average and the ones that are labeled are labeled wrong, and I mean really wrong. I made it this far without losing my way once but now I was pausing every fifteen minutes and squinting at the map. The trick is that the exorbitantly priced “Hiking and Running Guide to Forest Park” does not show much detail in this section of the index map and the separate map blow-ups that come with it omit it entirely. I stopped a handful of locals and tried to get a bearing but they didn’t have a clue, either. In the end, I put in an extra half mile backtracking things and wandering around parking lots. Alex, I don’t know how you survived this section in the dark at the end of your Wildwood marathon.  I would have been sending up flares and waiting for the helicopters.

10.5 miles today, 61 miles cumulative total

Well, it’s done. I’m proud and feelin’ pretty sanctimonious about all my confirmed suspicions about staying as far away from the city as possible and hiking at off hours to avoid the hordes. I received nary a bug bite in 61 miles thanks to copious amounts of spray, an accomplishment unrealized in years past. I also managed to wake up each following day with zero soreness, a miracle in itself. Mt. Hood is still melting, so I think I’ll do all the roads and firelanes next to cover August. This time, I might even wear a pack.

The Wonderful Terrible Traverse 12-16-10

(Clicking on photos will yield a larger image with greater detail.)

The Terrible Traverse on Bennett Pass is not an innocent winter trail. People have gotten stuck on it, confused in blizzard conditions, a few have even been steamrolled by avalanches into cold, wet piles of body parts at the bottom. But for every caveat of doom about it on the internet there’s been a compelling photograph of beautiful scenery. That, as always, is enough for me. I scoped it out on a hot, dusty August weekend, then returned for a snowshoe tour in December.

Mark and I gleefully entered a parking lot of zero vehicles and falling snow–an early start and heavy accumulation predictions always do wonders to keep a popular trail quiet. Before we marched into the forest, we sent a couple curious snowmobile trailers packing down to Frog Lake when they nosed around our turf. (Hint: the magic words “This trail’s only a few miles long” will make snowmobilers disappear before your very eyes!) The first mile lived up to the weather reports. Our cheeks froze in the wind, snow swirled under our hat brims and drenched our eyebrows, and visibility was reduced to the next hundred steps or so. Then, it suddenly just all went away. The dark clouds lifted, the sky lightened, and freshly flocked trees showed off their winter outfits.

As Bennett Pass is actually a fairly large road (NFD 3550), there were plenty of snow sculpting opportunities for Mother Nature along its cut bank. And where there is art, there are art enthusiasts…like Mark in his National Geographic Photographer’s Stance.

My personal favorites are the snow rollers. They come in many forms but the traditional Cinnabun Roller is a classic.

In addition, there are Snow Witches, as Mark and I have come to call them. Hunkered over with the weight of powder, young Douglas Firs assume the shapes of all sorts of spooky fairy tale characters. 

Mark called this one a Snow Turkey but I think it’s more of a snow Skeksis. About two miles of snow shoeing yields an impressive open view and a good look at Mt. Hood. Well, usually there is a good look at Mt. Hood. 

Same spot in August.

[Pause for hot cocoa whipped up by Chez Mark on snow benches we made nearby.]

The sky did a tantalizing strip tease, revealing bits of blue here and there, now and then, but it never fully opened up. We could spot Barlow Pass in the distance, freshly flocked.

Spread out before the Traverse was a gauntlet of powdery blowing drifts. They were pretty easy going despite being taller than us in several spots and the wind made it interesting again. At last: the Terrible Traverse! Can you say “Sixty Degree Angle of Death?” Well, actually, it was hardly wind loaded at all above us that day and the trail was decent. We ventured across rather fearlessly, as this shot looking back attests. 

In the summer, it’s a treacherous one-lane-only road with a few sphincter-clenching moments when your tires kiss air.

Mark pauses to gaze up at a big reason the slope releases its load so readily: ice.

There were thick chandeliers of icicles dangling from the rock cliffs above us: nature’s Slip-n-Slide. Not much for snow to grab onto.

After surveying the gallery of ice sculpture, we turned our heads around and gaped at the winter wonderland behind us. Below and to the left, the Teacup cross country ski trails weave unseen through the trees where the East Fork of Hood River flows. A theater curtain of clouds is draped from Elk Mountain on the left to Gunsight Butte and Lookout Mountain on the right, obscuring the valley beyond from view.

The Terrible Traverse isn’t just one nail biter of a cliff, it’s about a quarter mile of them, nonstop. Once you’re in, you’re committed–only a single track to snowshoe or ski on and no where to go but down if anything happens. The sun beckoned around one corner and then another with promises of warmth on the far side. (Note: the sun is a big, fat tease.)

Mark passes snow rollers on the left, a drop off to remember on the right. Elk Mountain looms in the background.

En route to my favorite spot, the Gates of Lodore, were whitened Noble Fir. 

For some reason, they always make me crave Swedish Waffles with powdered sugar. It’s a mystery.

Ah, the Gates of Lodore! Okay, not the real Gates of Lodore, that’s in Utah, but it reminds me of them. Actually, I think they call this rock formation Gunsight Notch but it doesn’t sound as sexy.

Here’s the view from the other side. That’s quite a drift, there. Don’t believe me? Check out the summer shot. By the end of a good snow season, the notch can almost be filled to the top.

Mark is impressed.

One reason to look forward to these rocks is that they signal the end of the dizzying drop offs. Once you pass through the notch, you dip back into the relatively protective embrace of a heavy conifer forest on either side. If you keep going another five or six miles, you can enjoy the ambiance of Bonney Meadows, a little-known delight of a campground in the middle of nowhere with numerous trails leading to and from. Best saved for summertime and a four wheel drive, though.

Time to head for home. We didn’t even make a dent in the monster drifts. On the way out, we passed several dozen snowshoers and skiers coming up, yet we had the place pretty much to ourselves on the way in: an ideal day.

A couple more flash dances from the sun.

Stormy Weather 10-24-10

Don’t know why…there’s no sun up in the sky…stormy weather….

When I heard the tide was in, the waves were cresting dangerously high, and the winds were close to gale force just off the coast, there was only one thing to do: gas up the truck and head west to look at it.

Cape Falcon was the only major spot I hadn’t explored yet between Astoria and Newport, so I parked at the trail head closest to Short Sand Creek and headed into the dripping evergreens. 

The steep cut bank of trail winds through occasional specimens of old growth which are fiercely guarded by Devil Squirrels.

Okay, not really. My camera just caught a Douglas Squirrel in a rather menacing pose while he was ravaging some cones but doesn’t he look like he could walk right onto a Stephen King movie set? If the furry little beasties glared like this in real life, I’d bring more than just bug spray and gaiters for protection into the Oregon wilds….

The trail is easy as pie with only a few hundred feet of elevation gain to the cape, so you have oodles of time to admire the landscaping. And there’s plenty to take in, too, particularly of the mycological variety. Dryad’s Saddles (Polyporus applanatus) formed artistic downspouts at the edges of logs. 

The Coral Fungi was my favorite, branching into formations that rivaled elegant modern sculpture in the dark recesses between downed branches and sword ferns. 

It came in a splendid variety of hues… 

…often appearing in bright bouquets of several colors at once. 

This stuff was just plain freaky. It resembled the pliable cartilage of a human ear. If anybody out there knows what this is, let me know immediately and end the suspense.

With so many goodies to photograph, it took me a while to get out to the northern point of Smuggler Cove. Short Sand Beach on the way was a terrifying spin cycle of storm surge and rolling rocks the size of my head so for the first time in five years, I didn’t detour down to the shore to take a gander. (I had paused at Hug Point on the way here, anyway, and gawked for a whole hour at the crazy wave action to get my fix.)

On the trail, I picked up some new friends visiting from Cleveland so I led them out to some choice spots on the map like this excellent view of Neahkanie Mountain. 

At this particular location, the wind was funneled up the loose rock slopes below our feet to form a wind tunnel alarming in its unpredictability. Every few seconds, our bare cheeks were strafed with course pebbles wrenched loose from the walls below. It kinda took the romance out of the view.

To quote a seafaring Viking in The Thirteenth Warrior, “No, boy, this is no day to be close to land!” Is it any wonder we didn’t see a single boat all day?

Looks more and more like a scene out of The Pirates of the Caribbean the closer you get, doesn’t it? 

No sooner did I mention to my out-of-state friends that Bald Eagles are like sparrows out here than a giant sparrow put in an appearance. The Clevelandites were very impressed. 

The couple gamely pushed their way with me through chest-high walls of salal to a lookout at the headland. Boy, did the wind sure let us know who was boss! If it weren’t for the salal, we’d surely have been tossed off the edge like so much crumpled newspaper. We eased our way slowly down to a precipitous out-jutting of rock and all settled in to munch on lunch and watch the waves. They were as mesmerizing as they were furious. 

We had to speak up to hear each other over the decibels of this storm. The wind moaned and howled above us, the weathered spruce branches hissed and clattered around us, and below us rogue waves punched the shore with such force that we could feel it like a sonic boom simultaneously in both our chests and ears.

Punchin’ in…. 

…and ebbing out. 

I was bundled up far better than my friends and declared my intention to stay until dark. They gave me nervous smiles and bid me adieu in favor of their warm and dry rental car back at the trail head. I lingered to watch giant curtains of rain sweep clean the agitated surface of the Pacific Ocean. Below is one of those Unexpected Bonus Seagull shots.

I was feeling pretty self-important, all snug in my indestructible waterproof gear, until about twenty minutes later when the joke was on me: lightning! Suddenly, being perched on an exposed rock out-cropping, surrounded by water and being moistened to a slick sheen felt foolhardy. I hastened up the rough trail only to be blinded by one of those strikes that hits so close, everything turns white and deadly silent and you swear the entire universe has stopped for half a second along with your heart. Then a noise loud enough to induce bowel evacuation in most explodes in your ears and you come to your senses again and resume running.

I realized I was screwed when I got to the top of the salal: I’d have to cross several very open, very exposed fields in order to reach the relative safety of the forest again. Something instinctual kept me hunkered down in the wind-whipped stand of spruce, instead. It was warm there, delightfully warm without the wind, and I made a sort of party out of it, downing more water and calories for the mad dash to come. I examined things up close while I had a moment and noticed the richly painted undersides of some wildflowers there. 

Another twenty minutes bought a pause in the electrical segment of my adventure and I high-tailed it into the Douglas Fir. A few lingering strikes lit up the skies behind me and each time, my legs found some speed I didn’t know I had. If you want a real workout, run up a steep, muddy hill in the pounding rain while lightning crashes all around you and you desperately have to pee and I guarantee that you will push the limits of shin splints.

But once I found the embrace of the thick conifer canopy again, the rest of the hike became rather benign. With the wind gone, it felt positively balmy. With the people gone, I was able to have as many conversations with fungi as I liked. This one’s called Lobster Mushroom and according to a ‘shroom harvester that I passed that day, despite its bizarre, alien appearance, it’s quite delicious. He had a whole bag full. 

Just before sundown, I had the opportunity to count some rings on a giant that took a header into the mud next to the trail. You can see it’s splintered stump centered at the end of the log about fifty optically illusive feet away.

At the center, the tree talked about a vigorous youth full of fast growth and massive gains with each successive year. 

By the end of its term, those years had become a study in slow persistence. Yet, even now in its “death,” it was still alive with symbiotes, parasites, slugs, snails, and a multitude of unseen creepy crawlies, all necessary to the health of the forest that nursed this tree into life over a hundred and twenty years ago. Yes, I counted. As usual, I barely made it back to my vehicle before dark. I like to see just how far I can make it without turning on the old headlamp and I’m proud to say I only used it once in 2010.

My reward was a new pair of boots. A small group of tourists we had passed earlier had purchased stiff rubber boots just to hike in and had left the whole lot of them stacked neatly below the trail head sign. I picked out my size, threw them in the back of the truck, and drove home leisurely in a completely dry change of clothes. Always bring a dry change of clothes. The waterproof nylon pants may keep your underwear dry but the lightning might necessitate a clean pair in the end.