Woo-hoo, a clear day! Friday, 9/18/20

Oh my goodness, when I opened the back door this morning and gave the air the "sniff test," I didn't smell anything ... nothing, except perhaps a tiny breeze hinting of fall ... the sun was low in the September sky, and migrating Robins were filling our Dogwood trees.  No smell of smoke, and our A/Q was measuring in the "moderate" range rather than hazardous or unhealthy for the first time in what seems like forever.  Fact is, we could see across the trees without that layer of gauze we've seen since the hot days, fires and smoke began five weeks ago.  We were surprised to see cloud cover, as though rain might be in order, but none fell and those gray clouds gave way to a stellar blue sky peppered with fleecy white clouds (below).  Hallelujah!  You can really appreciate a day such as this when you haven't seen the likes in a while!

All that adds up to a "hiking" day, but the high country A/Q measured in the unhealthy class.  No thanks, we chose not to go there!  Locally, we could spend a couple of hours hiking the trails at Empire Mine St Pk, a few miles away in Grass Valley, and so off we went.

We couldn't recall when we'd last been there, but this blog comes in mighty handy.  Posting tells the tale and I looked it up on the label at left on your page.  Our last visit was March of 2017 (wow!).  I guess I don't need to add that neither the Visitor Center nor any other bldgs was open due to COVID. 

I don't know how we do it, but we managed to walk 5.5 miles in circles!  It isn't possible to get lost in this compact state park, altho we traipsed all over, doubling back a couple of times, but WE DIDN'T CARE.  We were thrilled to be Out and About today and enjoyed each minute of the two-and-a-half hours we wandered around.  Other like-minded people were here, bikers and walkers and joggers, each one happy to acknowledge the beautiful day.  (Most were masked or stepped off the trail.)

This particular section winds through a miniature Manzanita forest.

Dried flowers mingle with Manzanita.

Look at the fascinating pine bark of a mature Ponderosa pine:  Yellow-brown to russet-colored and broken up into scaly plates separated by deep, irregular fissures.  To me these plates are composed of picture puzzle pieces.

We see so much old mining paraphernalia, none of it recognizable as such to eyes a century later.  What we did notice, along with the fresh breeze, was falling leaves.  After a hot, dry summer, isn't that a happy sight?  After all, the autumnal equinox is next week.

Tailings are a fact of life in a gold mine.  The Empire Mine is "one of the oldest, largest, deepest, longest and richest gold mines in California."  Between 1850 and its closure in 1956, the Empire Mine produced 5.8 million ounces of gold, extracted from 367 miles of underground passages, so sayeth Wiki.  And all that produced tailings.  That hill you see above and much of the ground we walked on is or had been tailings.

I forgot to add that horses are allowed on many area trails in the park, and we dodged a whole lot of horse apples to prove it.  Jimmy said one section we were on should be renamed "horseshirt" trail, but read that word without the "r."  (And, he didn't really say horseshirt, either.)  The very cool horse above was wearing red sandals!

More old mining stuff.  I can't say equipment, 'cause I don't know what it is/was.  Like most of the trails we hike, these were up and down.  We hiked to the top of Osborn Hill and then down roundabout somehow or other.  We both like walking on pine straw -- it's the best at cushioning the path.

This is the first time I've seen painted rocks left on stumps, and I saw two.  Plus a SF Giants baseball cap hanging on a branch.  Somebody will nab it up.

More tailings of some sort.

We finally made it back to Smartie and it was 12:30.  I'd packed no lunch, knowing we were close enough to go home for lunch.  But today was different.  As we ended our trek, I suggested to Jimmy that he could take me out for lunch.  He said okay, but where?  We haven't been into a restaurant since, what? February? March?  Long time.  We were in the neighborhood of our favorite little Mexican restaurant, El Milagro, in Grass Valley, so we drove the short distance to see if they were open.  Sure enough!  Patio seating or inside the dining room.  We chose the empty dining room.  We felt safe.  The waiter was masked and everything looked clean and wiped down.  And we ate, oh my, we ate a fine lunch.  And tomorrow we'll finish the lunch leftovers!

Jimmy's humongous poblano sauce burrito.

Mmmmmmm

Oooh, my poblano sauce chicken enchiladas with black beans and rice.

Muy delicioso! Muy bien.

Back at home, I put Roma tomatoes on to bake for tomato confit, and then went into the garden to pick another pint-plus of my own yellow cherry tomatoes.  Jimmy read for a bit on the back deck.  We puttered.  You understand what I'm saying?  We were outside!  Tomorrow is supposed to be another 75/°ish day, oh the joy of it all.  The bliss.  We're ready.

Where there's smoke ... Thurs, 9/10/20

... there is so much fire.  Fire and smoke and tragedy.  Below are a few pics from our long drive home after leaving Farewell Bend Campground near Union Creek, OR, a route that took us past Crater Lake, Fort Klamath, and down into California to its eastern backbone:  Hwy 395.  We left approx 11am.

From the road near Ft Klamath, we can see fire burning from the massive Chiloquin "Two Four Two" fire.

Further south, some areas had sun peeking through the smoke.

I think there's a mountain ahead.

Near Susanville, CA, thick smoke lay all the way to the ground. 

And again, as we cut south and west to Hwys 70/49/89 (mountainous back roads into Nevada City), choking smoke from the North Complex fire turned the sky an opaque dirty brown.  It surely wasn't a pretty drive, but we were glad we could find our way home.

As darkness fell, we'd hoped to camp in one of the many national forest service campgrounds, but all had been temporarily shut down and barricaded a few days earlier because of wildfires.  Our only choice then was to keep going, arriving home around 10pm.  An eleven-hour trip -- a successful eleven-hour trip!

I suppose it's more than ironic that we took off for Oregon to escape California smoke ... and now it's worse than before we left!  It's been one helluva week, but we're safe at home.  Our friends in both states are safe in their homes.  Many haven't been as fortunate, and we join in prayer with thousands across the country for those who are scared and suffering.  Oh, God, we need rain!

Crater Lake, Wednesday, 9/9/20

We had a fairly early start this morning, and Smartie had no trouble today climbing the road to Crater Lake. Yesterday's downed tree had been cut in three pieces and pulled off the road, and we continued to see small tree debris (branches, cones, lichen, etc.) from the BIG wind.  As is usual nowadays, nothing was open at Crater Lake, either from COVID concerns or due to that wind.  Not a problem, as we brought our own food and drink and managed to find porta-potties when needed.

I had a phone number in my pocket of a place to stay on the Oregon coast after we left Farewell Bend, and planned to call them to check for availability when we got a cell signal.  Well, as soon as we got that cell signal, our phones lit up like Rockefeller Plaza's Christmas tree!  Ping! Ping! Ping!  We touched base with friends, only to discover they were worried about us.  Our neighbor, Fran, reported the PSPS power outage was ongoing (aw, geez!).  Fires seemed to have popped up everywhere in Oregon, more roads were closed, and ... now what?

Since we were already at the lake, and with the sun shining brightly (through a veil of light smoke), our idea was to go ahead, circumnavigate clockwise the lake on the 33-mile rim road.  We made a brief day-trip to the lake in 2011 (see Crater Lake under labels, left side), but it was chilly and gray on that visit.  This looked to be a much better day (ah, we hoped).

Wizard Island, at 6940', is a volcanic cinder cone INSIDE crater lake, which is itself a caldera from the collapsed Mount Mazama thousands of years ago.  Blame smoke for my hazy photos.  William Gladstone Steel named the island in 1885.  As we walked along the rim, raucous Clark's Nutcrackers flew from tree to tree, too fast to capture a photo.

Steel also named Wizard Island's volcanic crater "Witches Cauldron."

Okay!

Uh-oh, when the rim road climbed higher and we could see toward the west, this sight greeted us. A new fire?  Oh no!

And this, further to the south (southwest?).

We aren't positive of directions up here, but this appeared SW.

When we first began our trip around the lake and looked to the south/southeast, we spotted a small puff of white smoke, and said, "Oh no" again, but as we moved further along the rim road, we saw how this smoke cloud had billowed and grown!  NOT GOOD.

Continuing on, we pulled into each rim highlight or viewpoint, appreciating what was in front of us, as well as the deep royal blue lake, but we drove with a wary eye on the horizon.  The two western blazes threw smoke high and wide.  None of the fires was close to us, but what about the wind?  Which way was the wind blowing?  Unknown.

I know the wind blows right here!

This colorful formation is called The Pumice Castle, on the east wall.

We liked this graphic, as it shows (like an iceberg) the tip above water (Phantom Ship) and how much more stretches below the surface!  In the summer of 2000, a multibeam sonar survey was made of the bottom of Crater Lake.

OSU identified the above as Beargrass, Xerophyllum tenax, sometimes called Indian basket grass.  Cute, like a miniature pom-pom!

Jimmy, with Applegate Peak as a backdrop.  We hiked the short trail around Sun Notch/Phantom Ship overlook, but realized we were missing out on so many other trails.  Smoke filtered in across the lake from that horrible-looking southern fire that threw up a horrific mushroom cloud.  We watched it drift in.  Not a good time to take off on a long hike.  Guess we'll have to return.  Again.

Decided to return to Farewell Bend C/G as soon as we completed the rim road loop.  Who knows where this monster is headed?  The phone number in my pocket was forgotten.

Earlier, we ate our lunch at one of the picnic sites along the rim road, sharing one end of a table with two bikers from a group of 17 (can't recall the group name, darn it), that would be bicyclists, and we chatted as people do.  Nice folks, touring with the group for six-days, inc. the Crater Lake loop.  As we approached Vidae Falls, these same two people were waiting for us!  They'd beat us to the falls (downhill, doncha know) and they wanted to make sure we didn't miss the "splash" of the falls. Thanks!  Glad they did!

Yup, the splash!  While we had a signal, more texts and brief phone visits ensued (spotty connection), before we started back on Hwy 62 to the campground.  We hoped to find out more information from our camp hosts, about our choices, and what to do.

Still within the park and driving west on Hwy 62, we discovered a "giant hole in the ground" paralleling the road.  We parked alongside the highway and got out.  Looking down into the chasm, the scenery is striking -- hoodoos and straight walls so deep we couldn't see the bottom.  Too steep to get too close! This 125-foot-deep gorge was cut through pumice material by stream erosion.  I believe this is part of a unique geologic feature called Llaos Hallway.  Whitehorse Creek and Castle Creek are two of the streams at the bottom.  Maybe we won't try to hike this one!

Some alias! 😄

Scary.

Back at the camp hosts' site -- when we asked if we could "get out of here," we were told we weren't "going anywhere.  Roads are all blocked by fires."  Well, now, that'll give you pause.  Mind you, none of the fires was really close, but .... At that point, we elected to drive south eight miles to a town called Prospect to see if we could find out more info.  All we learned was that the roads out were blocked. 

Our rig is ready to go at a moment’s notice, everything shipshape.  We filled Smartie with gas in Prospect; she’s all set, filled Tergel's water tank last night. We remain alert in case we’re told to LEAVE NOW.  We hope to go home tomorrow, but how?  This is not the getaway from home/smoke trip we planned!

Soooooo, we settled in for the night, ate our dinner, went to bed.  What else can you do?  We felt safe enough where we were at Farewell Bend c/g, which is at the juncture of three roads, three possible escape routes, tho apparently all of them were blocked somewhere further away from our particular location.  Parked as we were in the middle of an old growth forest, surrounded by trees, with wind still blowing, you either trust you'll be okay or you hightail it out.

The next morning, Thursday, we determined to leave.  Roughly a mile south of Farewell Bend c/g is Union Creek campground.  The camp host there told us we could probably make it out by way of Hwy 62, down to Ft Klamath, squirrel around back roads, along the west side of Klamath Lake, down to Hwy 140, and home.  Back at Tergel, we packed it up and left.  Around 11 am.  Hoping for the best.  Headed for home.

What'll we do? Tuesday, 9/8/20

A somewhat convoluted beginning to our day, but it worked out fine. We'd decided to circumnavigate Crater Lake on the rim road today, but first we stopped at Rogue Gorge. Just a quick peek, no photos, because we wanted to return for more.  Surprising to us, the morning was a chilly 55°, so we donned windbreakers.  But, hey, because it's been abominably hot for weeks on end, the coolness was mighty welcome!  Our elevation at Farewell Bend C/G is roughly 3600', not much more than our elevation at home.  As we left the c/g, we saw lots of tree debris on the road from last night's wind.

The Rogue River below the Gorge.  Rippin' along!

Oh my!  On the way east to Crater Lake, we were truly stopped due to a fallen tree across Hwy 62. Apparently it was newly downed, too.  Last night’s 75 mph winds didn’t materialize (that we were aware of), but it was windy and it still is. The red pickup truck attempted and failed to move the tree by attaching nylon straps, and since no one seemed to have a chain saw to cut it up, we turned around and headed for Boundary waters, north on Hwy 230.  We passed one of those temporary signs that reported a highway closure (Hwy 138E) due to fire, but that wouldn't impact us today.  Keep in mind that we have no cell signal at the campground, so no info.

But first (we keep saying that), we spotted this sign and, since the falls was recommended by Sue, we pulled in and parked.  Smartie was the only car in the parking "lot."

A half-mile switchback trail down through the woods led us to these gorgeous falls.  Jimmy climbed higher to get close-ups of the water.  See him?  Otherwise, nothing more to the trail, so we climbed the half mile back to the car, passing another couple on their way down.  Everyone we see on trails are either masked or pull their shirts over their mouth/nose, or else step off the trail -- good trail etiquette. 

Stellar!

In the car, we continued on looking for signage indicating the Boundary waters.  Nothing.  Smartie shifted into lower gears to climb toward the 5415' summit, but still no sign.  We pulled into the Mazama Viewpoint ahead of the summit and accidentally spied the sign below (off the beaten path).  Deciphering it, I decided this must be the place!  I think the state people could put up a better sign, ya know?

With poles and sandwiches, we started out, not knowing if we were really on the right track or how long the trail might be.  Sue had warned me that the bulk of this trail would be in a burned out forest, and she was right. 

Dead standing.

A Douglas Squirrel inquired if we had any goodies.

Sorry dude ....

The dusty single track wound us through the blackened forest.  Rushing water was within eyesight and/or earshot 95% of the time, which we liked. It seemed as though much of the trail was created by slashing a path into a mountain slope, which meant one side was straight up and the other straight down … to the river. A couple of people passed us, but they turned back early on, saying they didn't know enough about the trail. We kept going, tho we didn’t exactly know where, either. We were looking for a meadow that led to the headwaters of the Rogue.

About the time we saw this sign, our dark humor began.  "We're gonna fall in the lake before we find the headwaters," "we're the only people out here, they'll find our bodies next year," and so on.   Silly, I know, but it's harmless fun.  When we were considering turning around, we met another couple coming toward us, and they said we were almost there.  Timely.  We kept going forward.  Far below, the stream rushed down, down, down.  Like a dream. 

Fireweed (of course).

This area was fun, seeing all the green growth on the logs in the river.  

Another cascade.

This grouse wanted me to take its pic.

Thanks for holding still!

Aha!  An honest-to-goodness real sign!

Maybe we expected to see water gushing from rocks, like the Sacramento River headwaters, but at this spring, water magically appeared where none had been before.  And all around it:  soooo green, with a few posies thrown in.  Quiet?  Oh yes.  No sound, till the spring water got a bit further on.  We were well pleased to see the spring, and gratified that we managed to find it.

Not even a gurgle as it eases downhill.

Strange.

Woohoo -- we did find Boundary springs, and were pretty sure we'd found the Headwaters of the Rogue. Hopeful, but not certain. Returning the way we came took a lot less time, and I don't think we saw another soul. Man-oh-man, we pulled into the c/g around 5pm, hungry and dusty and tired. My fitbit recorded 6.6 miles, 18,435 steps, and 44 floors! Whew! Like I said above, the day worked out just fine ... methinks we used it up!