Rainy 'Packing
The item forgotten was the scrubby for doing dishes. In the scheme of Things We Could Have Forgot, this is extremely minor. We wonder a bit about what was forgotten from the packs of a couple of fellow hikers, but I get ahead of myself.
Our plan, since we hadn’t been backpacking for a while, was to drive from HR to Rainy Lake trailhead for a short, moderately level overnight. One portion of the trail is very popular - folks hike from Gorton Creek on the Historic Highway, up to Rainy, over to Wahtum, then down Eagle Creek to the Historic Highway and then roadside to their cars. This route includes a climb of more then 4000ft (and the same descent), and takes 2-3 days. Taking it easy on ourselves sounded good.
The directions we had to Rainy, however, failed to mention that the road required high clearance vehicles. Luckily, we had one . . .back in HR. So we turned, headed down carefully, had lunch, grabbed the right vehicle, and headed back up.
When we reached the trailhead, it was full of cars and tents. We parked out on a pulloff and walked into the trailhead lot, and found a sign leading towards Wahtum. Where’s the Rainy Trail? Well, to get to it, we had to thread our way through the encampment, which was pretty redneck, but nice about un-prompted restraining of dogs as we picked our way through.
The sun had disappeared behind clouds, not to reappear for the duration, but we created our own heat as we speed up hill, getting away from the noise of the rednecks. We passed a couple pop-n-kid hikers, carrying coolers and crawfish traps, and with the patented Oregon Friendliness found out that the crawdads weren’t around this year, probably due to the long winter. Rainy Lake is just a pond, really, but we noticed that the berm we were hiking on looked more man-made then terminal moraine-ish. The bridge over the lake’s outlet was more or less collapsed - a rock supported its center, but in no way was this caused by sound engineering.
We looped the lake and headed upslope, finding that a pair of loppers would do wonderful things for preventing terracing - folks are stepping off trail to get around the overgrowth. The work done on making a trail through the scree sections was marvelous, though. This 500 ft climb was basically all the elevation change we’d get, although we’d do it a couple times. At the top, the wind stopped us, and we were digging more layers out of the packs when another packing couple walked up from the other direction. We chatted a while about conditions (windy), and where they were going, and we gave them the low-down on the business of the Rainy trailhead - which they didn’t know was a drivable location. My map, he said, was better then his.
We left these hikers and headed due north. Literally. We joked that the trail was laid out with a ruler: the only zigs were caused by blow-downs, of which there were a good deal, but they were the only technical obstacles. The trees weren’t evenly spaced or we’d think we were in a plantation, but we could see long distances, as there wasn’t much undergrowth. Eventually the trail descended sharply and we hiked past our next intersection to go look at what Ridge Camp was like. We then hit the Eaton trail intersection, and had to back up - Ridge Camp was easily miss-able. But it was a fine, level campsite with a tall ring of stone around ash, no view, and a lot of wind. Have I mentioned the wind? Luckily, it was still early, and we headed back up hill to hang a left at the previous intersection.
“I think I found the path less traveled.”
“Has it made all the difference?”
“What?”
“I was just finishing the poem for you.”
“That was from a poem?”
Sigh.
Fewer feet have hit this segment of the trail, which crossed the ridge west to east. At times, we had to stop in the thigh-high thimbleberry and confirm where the path was. Sometimes it was just bear grass lining the path, and tall tall pines. We passed vine maples hells that were already turning colors. We passed areas of intense blow-downs. And then we started downhill. Apparently, the trail designers kept that ruler, for the downhill was long, straight and steep. Most trail designer put in a bit of a fall line trail once in a while, but this was on the edge of ridiculous. Only on the edge, since it wasn’t eroding too badly because it didn’t get much use.
I saw up ahead a yellow rain jacket and a Doberman-shaped dog. We’d hit the Wyeth trail. It’s now dinnertime, and while we haven’t been hiking all day, we’re getting hungry. We walked along until we found a flattish bowl off trail, found an adequate spot for a tent, and started setting up camp. The folks with the dog and the yellow jacket came back down the trail, spotted us, and asked if we knew where North Lake was, so we pulled out our map and got them turned correctly.
What is this about maps? How hard is it to be prepared? Are we the only ones out there that think you need one of these before you go into a wilderness? I mean, we downloaded it from the USGS for free and printed two copies just before we left. We also had a GPS and a compass on us, since we like having backup. What other basic items - or woodsense - are these people missing?
Our camp was basic for us - tent here, dug a toilet pit there, set up kitchen over there, throw a line over a branch for later food-hanging just beyond. We made up our pasta dinner and ate, and then during cleanup discovered we had no scrubby. So much for being uber prepared, eh?
All the camp chores were done before dark, and we crawled into our tent. We hadn’t used this tent but once, a year ago, and we kept commenting on how tiny it was while we were setting up, but once inside, with the air chilling down outside, it was cozy inside.
And then it started raining.
Oh, it was more like mist then a downpour, but we were happy to be snug inside for the night.
We managed to sleep late in the morning, which is odd for me. As soon as the sun hits the tent, I’m awake and ready to move. Luckily for my drowsing hiking partner, it was pretty overcast. I made it til 8. Our tent-fly even had time to dry.
After breakfast & packing up, we headed up and over the next rise, finding our way through big doug fir and the occasional patch of what looks like devils club to me - beware of giant thorns! Also slippery rocks on occasion, but it’s mostly easy during this stretch.
We came to North Lake and skirted its edge to view the campsite, and cursed our fellow hikers. The tall stone fire ring was full of ash, had a half-burned tree trunk balanced from it to the log-bench, and was still warm & smokey. Our guess is the previous night’s occupants left it burning this morning. We picked up the log and dunked it into the lake - not a wonderful solution, but better then letting it flare up when the wind picked up. Besides the previous folks’ leavings, this campsite is wonderful - easy access to the lake, lots of trees that shelter from too much sun & wind, flat tend pads, and the privacy of being off the main trail.
The remaining hike was mild, rolling, and with long site lines. Odd though, that it looks like you could see a long way in the forest, then you are wondering how these chest-high thimbleberry patches sneak up on you. There were several wet areas to cross - nothing that got over the tops of our boot-soles, and most with log or rock crossings. And just as we got to the last intersection, we noted a small pond full of algae - no, as we approached we saw it’s a large flat area full of grass. Actually, we decided it had just transitioned from one to the other - I even walked out on it to confirm its current dry state.
Back at the Rainy trailhead, we note that the encampment had skedaddled, leaving a good deal of trash behind. Since we had been picking up rope and floats all along the trail, we decided this road-side clean up job would be someone else’s problem. The group had also had chainsaws along - a no-no in the national forest, but they were just outside that boundary, and had sliced open a trail-blocking tree, as well as created a backwoods see-saw that we played on before heading out of the woods.
So this trail has little in the way of spectacular views, but also had no great climbs or dangerous river crossings. I’d say it’s a good “warm up” trail for backpacking, or a day trip loop for when you don’t want elevation gain. It is a long drive from anywhere up a gravel road, though.
Trail Distance: About 9 miles
Options: Add to loop from I-84 with Eagle Creek, Gorton Creek, or Wyeth, or extend a little with out-n-back to Wahtum Lake
Other Trail Use: Hikers only on this loop, Wahtum leg open to mtn bikes, lots of ATV use on roads in area
Getting there: From Hood River, head up Country Club Road towards Dee. Turn at left at Lost Lake Road, then and immediate left onto Punchbowl road. Road becomes gravel after the orchard, set odo to 0. At major 3-way intersection (ignoring dirt roads), turn a hard left. Look for sign about 10 m from pavement.