Sunday – Sept. 12, 2021
- Start Point: Timberline Lodge Trailhead
- End Point: Just beyond Ramona Falls
- Daily/Total Mileage: ~10 miles
The day started with a drive. A really long one. To get out to the closest trailhead today, I’d need to drive 160 miles from my home base in Eugene. It would take me at least a three hours, assuming I hit no traffic on I-5 on my through Salem and Portland. So, I was heading out the door with all my gear by 9:30 am.
The drive north toward Mt. Hood was fairly uneventful in terms of the traffic, but man, the weather sure was crummy. It began as the typical overcast Oregon day – gray clouds, rain sprinkles, and sense of gloominess that seemed to hover overhead the entire way.
But all that changed when I got the small town of Rhododendron, just 20 miles west of Timberline Lodge. Suddenly, the clouds parted. Blue skies and sunshine magically appeared. I was leaving the bad weather behind for the city folks, and getting an unexpected reward for heading into the mountains.
As I passed Government Camp (the final town before the trailhead), I decided to make a quick detour for lunch. Mt. Hood Brewing Co. was calling my name – with their clam chowder sourdough bread bowl and a pint of beer.
Plus, I also wanted grab a to-go can to their Timberline Tucker DIPA to enjoy somewhere on the trail tomorrow. So there’s that!
I hoping this hike will be a super relaxing adventure, with easy mileage over the next three days. I only intend to hike 10 miles today. Then I’d hike a leisurely 15 miles tomorrow, and finish out the final 15 miles on Tuesday.
I won’t be pushing my body to hike 20+ mile days that I was hiking earlier this summer. That’s why I’m bringing a beer to enjoy in the middle of the trip. And I even packed a paperback book to read during my breaks on trail or while at camp.
It was past 1 pm when I finished my meal at the brewery. Time to make the final push up the curvy mountain highway toward Timberline Lodge.
Hikers can begin or end this loop hike from a number of different places. But I’d decided to starting my journey on the south side of Mt. Hood for two simple reasons.
- First, Timberline Lodge was easiest trailhead to access from my starting point down in Eugene.
- Second, the lodge doesn’t charge hikers to park their cars overnight (unlike some of the other trailheads managed by the U.S. Forest Service.)
After parking in the designated lot, I hoisted my pack onto my shoulders, then I glanced up at this mountain I’d come to circumnavigate. Over the next 40 miles, I’d get to see her from just about every angle possible.
At 11,235′ Mt. Hood is the highest point in Oregon, and the mountain’s steep prominence and white glaciered peak can be seen from 100 miles away on a clear day. All I could thing what how formidable she looked today as she towered above me.
The sun was still shining bright in the sky as I slowly walked toward the iconic Timberline Lodge in search of the trail. It was cooler up here than I expected it to be. I’d begun my day at a mere 430′ feet above sea level, and now I was standing somewhere close to 6,000′. More than a mile higher in elevation than I normally hang out at.
The wind was pushing the wispy clouds above me. One moment I could see the summit and my surroundings clearly, the next it was gone again.
It was only a quick walk beyond the lodge to get up to the Pacific Crest Trail where I’d officially begin my clockwise hike around Mt. Hood. Nearly 25% of this loop would coincide with the famed PCT, and I looked forward to setting foot back on a national scenic trail once again.
The trail began easy, taking me below the many ski lifts dotting the southern slope of the mountain. And looking around, it was evident that summer was beginning to change to fall. The evergreen trees were still a deep emerald, but the ground was dotted with withering wildflowers and plants that were turning red, orange, and yellow.
As I stretched my stride and tried to find my pace, I was somewhat surprised to see so many day hikers and trail runners out and about on the trail. It was after Labor Day. But it was also a Sunday afternoon. And Mt. Hood is only a short drive from Portland. So I guess I probably should have expected them to all be there.
I was picking up steam about a half mile past the trailhead when I pulled to a stop at a wooded kiosk beside the trail. It was time to get my permit (Note: Hikers need fill out a permit for all overnight backpacking trips in the Mount Hood Wilderness. The permits are free and available at all the major trailheads, around the loop.)
On the small paper permit, the US Forest Service asked hikers to estimate the number of days they will be out in the backcountry, and to list their intended destinations for each night so search and rescue (SAR) teams know where to begin to look if they are notified of a missing hiker out here.
That was a sobering thought. It was only a little more than a year since a SAR team had to pull my butt to safety after I got trapped in an unexpected blizzard last September. And that memory was still in the forefront of my mind every time I went out on the trail.
Thus, it didn’t take much prodding to get me to do the right thing and fill out the permit instead of just walking past the kiosk. Once done, I slipped the original copy of the permit back in the box’s slot, and folded my carbon copy into my hip belt pocket.
I guess that means it’s real now. I’m officially thru-hiking the Timberline Trail!
After just a mile of hiking, nearly all the people I’d seen back near the trailhead seemed to have evaporated. I had the trail almost completely to myself as it zigzagged back and forth on its slow descent.
Today’s inaugural 10 miles would be the easiest thing I’d do on this trip, as the trail was almost entirely downhill for this stretch. I’d begun my hike at 6,000′ and would descend down to 3,500′, where I planned spend the night just beyond Ramona Falls.
Two miles into my journey, I came a point where I could peer down into the upcoming gorge where the Zigzag River appeared like a thin white ribbon down below. Although the river seemed so far away, and ravine’s walls seemed impossibly steep, I knew the PCT would deposit me down there soon. At the bottom of this valley sat my first water crossing of the trail.
The Timberline Trail is pretty much known for its two dominant attributes: (1) lots of great views of Mt. Hood, and (2) its many water crossings along the circular route.
As the snow pack on Mt. Hood melts each summer, the runoff feeds over a dozen major creeks and rivers running down toward lower elevation. Each stream must be crossed if hikers want to continue making progress around the trail’s loop.
Twenty minutes after I first spotted the Zigzag River, I stood at the bottom of the canyon right on the edge of it. The water appeared far wider than the tiny trickle I’d seen from above. The water ranged anywhere from four to ten feet across, depending on the spot.
Yet, this crossing wasn’t nearly as formidable as it would have been in the spring or early summer — when the majority snow was melting and filling the river with a flood of icy water. This year’s dry summer and the late time of year worked in my benefit now.
I was able to find a spot on the river with plenty of exposed boulders where it was just an easy rock hop across. Truthfully, the water was only a foot or so deep, so it seemed more like a creek than a river now. I didn’t even need to get my feet wet to ford it.
If this simple water crossing was representative of the rivers and creeks that lay ahead on the rest of the trail, I’d have nothing to worry about on this trip!
After the river crossing, the trail climbed for the next two miles through Douglas fir forests while the clouds moved in and out again. By the time I crested the final high point of the day, I no longer had any views to speak of.
Mt. Hood was completely shrouded a deep layer of white, and a fog blanketed the hillside in front of me. The air seemed to have cooled off a full 15 degrees as I worked my way toward the west side of the mountain. Normally, dropping elevation on a hike causes the air temperature increase. But now, without the sun to warm me up, it was feeling downright chilly up here.
Around this same time, I crossed path with a duo of backpackers head toward the Timberline Lodge. Based on the weary looks on their faces, I suspect they were at the end of their journey. Or maybe they just looked beat because their entire day was uphill, while my mine was a nice easy descent.
From atop the next lookout, I caught a few glimpses of the next river in the valley below. It didn’t look anything like clear pristine river I’d crossed a while ago. Instead, Rushing Water Creek had more or a chocolate milk appearance. And just above it, a large waterfall poured down the side of the mountain. But even that was a muddy brown.
As I made my way down into the next valley toward my crossing, I was grateful I wasn’t running low on water yet. The massive about of sediment suspended in this brown water would undoubtedly clog my filter beyond any hope. I’d already had that experience on my backpacking trip of the Achenbach Trail up in North Dakota last summer, and truthfully, it wasn’t something I was eager to repeat.
Down at the base of the valley, the creek crossing was almost as easy as the last one had been. I couldn’t tell how deep the ribbon of muddy water ran, but I could see the it was moving fast and it was several feet wide.
With a bit of scouting up and down stream, I found a spot with half a dozen logs providing a makeshift bridge. Once again, I could keep my shoes and feet dry. So far, the water crossings on this hike were turning out to be much easier than I’d expected.
Just minutes after this second crossing, I passed two separate groups of backpackers moving in the same direction as me as we all climbed back up the hillside. It was getting later in the day and I suspect everyone was heading to the same place tonight – Ramona Falls.
The falls are located about 9.5 miles into the Timberline Trail and it’s one of the more popular dayhiking and overnight backpacking spots on the entire loop.
One of the reasons for its popularity was its ease of access. Hikers don’t have to take the Timberline Trail nearly 10 miles (each way) to get there. Instead, they can drive straight up to the Ramona Falls trailhead and hike a quick 3.5 miles down to the waterfall.
And unlike the muddy brown horsetail waterfall I passed earlier, Ramona Falls is one of those picturesque falls that northern Oregon is known for. It’s a 120-foot series of cascades down a black columnar basalt lava flow that looks like something you’d see on a National Geographic calendar.
In fact, the upcoming trail junction down to Ramona Falls is where the trail traditionally diverges from the PCT. As the PCT continues north toward Canada, the Timberline trail begins its slow turn east to make its clockwise loop around Mt. Hood.
Unfortunately, a massive storm last Labor Day and caused immense damage to the upcoming section of the Timberline Trail. Rain and wind forced thousands of giant trees down, and a giant landslide took out a sweeping section of the area.
As a result this damage, there’s currently a 4.5-mile long trail closure ahead between the Muddy Fork River and Yocum Ridge. So I’d need to follow the PCT’s route another 5 miles, until I reached Bald Mountain. This detour on the PCT wouldn’t add any additional mileage to the loop’s overall distance, it would just take a parallel route around the impassible area.
Despite this minor change in the route, the side trail down to Ramona Falls was still open. So I decided to head down there to check it out. I couldn’t imagine bypassing the falls altogether.
As I headed toward the waterfall, I spotted tons of wonderful, established, flat campsites calling my name. Any one of them would do nicely. And in hindsight, I probably should have grabbed one. But I was sure I’d find a number of an equally ideal spots on the opposite side of the falls too, so I just kept walking.
When I finally arrived at the base of the Ramona Falls, it seemed eerily quiet in the early evening. I could hear the rushing of the water, but there was absolutely no other people nearby. Not a single soul! Perhaps all the day hikers were already on their way back to Portland.
After taking in the scenic falls, I decided it was time to find a spot to bed down for the night. I could backtrack to all those awesome established spots I saw before, or I could continue hiking up the Ramona Falls return trail toward the PCT and look for something equally good ahead.
Unfortunately, there weren’t any great spots to set up my tent on the return trail. Everything was just kind of ‘meh.’ Too many of them were sloped or had lava rock impinging on the flat areas. I rejected them all one after one, and just kept walking.
After about 20 minutes of looking, I grabbed a spot that would suffice. It didn’t compare to those nicely groomed, flat spots I’d seen before Ramona Falls, but I could at least make it work. Besides, it was getting late and the sun would be setting in less than an hour.
After setting up my tent and sleep system on the slightly sloped ground, I pulled my cook pot out to make dinner when I suddenly discovered I was missing a critical piece of gear…. My stove!
Normally I keep my all my cooking stuff nestled inside my cock pot, and I always wrap my little Pocket Rocket 2 stove in half of a bandana to keep it from rattling around the inside the metal pot. But now, as I reached down for the brightly colored bandana to pull my stove out, I could see the it was folded into a night tight square to small to contain anything!
Shit. Shit. Shit.
When I packed up this morning, I remember opening my pot and seeing everthing tucked neatly inside. I even pulled my fuel canister out and shook debating whether I had enough fuel for a 3-day trip.
But I didn’t check to make sure my stove was actually wrapped inside the bandana. I just assumed it was there. Because that’s where I always store it. I never carry it separately.
And that’s when I suddenly remembered reorganizing and cleaning my gear after I completed the Oregon Coast Trail this summer.
I decide to do a deep clean of all my gear when I’d returned home. My cookpot, my spoon, and my collapsible cup went into the dishwasher. My bandana went into the laundry with my hiking clothes. And I took an old toothbrush and some steel wool to my stove to clean it up.
I was so proud of myself taking such good care care of my gear.
But then, for some inexplicable reason, I put my stove back in the bright red plastic carrying case it was sold in and tossed it into my gear box. I didn’t put it back into my cook pot.
Ah man! My stove is sitting at home in its case. I am carrying a pot and fuel canister that is completely useless, and now I have no way to cook myself a hot dinner. Or hot coffee in the morning. Or anything else for next 30 miles.
Sigh!
Ok, time to figure out a solution. I rummaged through my food bag to figure out dinner and assess my options for the rest of the trail. I was still feeling pretty full from the clam chowder bowl I had at the brewery. Maybe I’d just have a granola bar for dinner. And I could mix my oatmeal with cold water in the morning.
In reality, the only meals that required hot water were my two freeze dried dinners. I could make everything else in my food bag work without cooking. Plus, I had enough bars and snacks that I wouldn’t actually starve out here. It would just be a bit uncomfortable.
Highlights
- Sampling the beer and food at Mt. Hood Brewing Co. on my way to the trailhead. It was good thing I stopped there too — because dinner was going to be on the light side tonight!
- The views of Mt. Hood whenever the clouds parted. I can’t wait to see what tomorrow brings on the trail.
- Both water crossings today were a piece of cake. I was prepared for them to be a bit more challenging and was pleasantly surprised by their ease.
Challenges
- Forgetting a critical piece of gear (like a stove) is one way to kill you morale. It isn’t a complete dealbreaker, but I feel like a total moron!