7/13/20
- Start point – Miller Lake Trailhead – just west of Chemult, OR
- End point– stealth spot near Lomolo Falls
- Distance hiked ~ 21.5 miles (but only 16.8 of them were on the NUT)
Segments:
- Miller Lake “approach trail” (4.75 miles)
- Maidu Segment (9 miles)
- Lemolo Segment (6.3 miles)
- Dread & Terror Segment (Just the first 1.5 miles to Lemolo Falls)
This morning began with an early wakeup at our campground on the shores of Fish Lake in southern Oregon. Although it was barely 7 am, I was ready to go, go, go. I’d packed up all my hiking gear last night, so I ready to to hop right into the car as soon as I could get Keith and Finn out of bed and moving.
Despite my eagerness to get hiking this morning, merely making our way to the trailhead took much longer than expected. I clearly remember looking at the distance from last night’s campground to the trailhead sometime after I finished the Tahoe Rim Trail (just a few weeks ago). And for some reason, I thought the trailhead was only 45-50 minutes north of us. Perhaps I should have double-checked that distance again last night instead of waiting until I got into the car’s passenger seat this morning.
As it turns out, I was waaaay off. Google Maps showed the trailhead was actually 103 miles away from our current campground. UGH! And so, I resigned myself to the fact that I better to just settle in for the long drive through southeast Oregon. At least I made myself a giant cup of coffee for the car ride before we left.
HOLY COW
The eastern terminus of the North Umpqua Trail (NUT) doesn’t actually have its own trailhead. That’s because the trail begins at the river’s headwaters at Maidu Lake up in the Cascade Mountains. The closest trailhead you can actually drive to about 5 miles to the east at Miller Lake. But, even that wouldn’t be straight-forward drive for us this morning.
As we wove our way down small rural roads toward Highway 93, Keith and I got lost in a discussion about a podcast, and we were so engrossed that we completely missed one of our turns. No worries though. The GPS showed an alternate route to the highway straight ahead, so we decided to continue on instead of turning the car around. What could go wrong?
Unfortunately, we were about to find out. Just a few more miles ahead, right before met up with Highway 93, we had to stop the car because there were cows marching down the road toward us.
Yes, quite literally!
The paved road we were driving on bisected cattle ranches on either side. And in one of the pastures ahead of us, some cowboys were herding a quarter-mile long column of cattle across the field. When they got to the road, they didn’t just herd the cattle straight across our path and over to the next field. No. Of course not. Instead, they made a 90-degree turn and started marching 500 or so head of cattle down the paved road TOWARD us!!!
Not good. I suspect we could have just stayed put on the road and let the rancher herd the cattle around the car. But, no thanks – I think I’m good. I’d rather avoid any potential stampedes on the way to the trailhead. So we turned the car around and backtracked five miles – all the way back to the road where we’d missed our turn.
MILLER LAKE
With the cattle debacle behind us, we headed north toward Chemult, Oregon – a sleepy little truck-stop town with a tiny population of 300. And from there, we needed turned off Highway 93 and make our way toward Miller Lake and the beginning of my thru-hike.
Miller Lake is located 12 miles down a dirt forest service road (FS 9772) in a place where few tourists visit. Near the end of the road, you reach the Digit Point Campground and then the road hits a dead-ends at Miller Lake and the Digit Point Trailhead.
I was surprise to see a bathroom with flush toilets at the trailhead and rushed of to avail myself of one last toilet seat! Then I hoisted my pack and trekking poles out of the back of our Subaru Crosstrek (which has, admittedly, seen more than it’s fair share of dirt roads and trailheads over the past two years of our nomadic life), and I couldn’t help but notice the car’s color was now dusty dirt brown instead of silver. Sigh. Our poor car is never, ever clean anymore.
But now wasn’t the time to worry about the car. It was time to get my act together and get started on this thru-hike. It may not have been nearly as early as I would have liked to be here this morning, but it’s summertime. The days are still long and I’d make my miles. So, I bid my boys adieu, strapped my pack on, and hit the trail.
THE APPROACH
My journey began with a 4.75-mile trail running between Miller Lake and Maidu Lake, which I decided I’d treat like an “approach trail.” It was kind of like the first day on my Appalachian Trail thru-hike, where I’d hiked from Amicalola Falls to the AT’s southern terminus. And like any good approach trail, it would need to gain lots of elevation as I climbed higher and higher up into the Cascade Mountains.
During my ascent, I caught glimpses between the tall trees of Miller Lake growing smaller below me, and then I could see Mt. Theilsen in the distance with its horn-like peak pointing skyward. The eastern side of the mountain still had a fair amount of snow on it even though it was mid-July, but that only made it stand even more distinct from all the other peaks on the horizon.
I eventually crossed paths with the famed 2,650-mile long Pacific Crest Trail about an hour up the trail and got lost in memories. I’d done a 110-mile section hike on the PCT from its southern terminus on the US-Mexico border up to Warner Springs, CA, back in January of this year. It was only a few months before COVID-19 shut everything down for 2020, but it felt like a lifetime ago. And it was nice to see my favorite trail once again. Someday soon, I promise I will thru-hike the entire thing…
MAIDU LAKE
Just before I got to Maidu Lake, I saw two girls in their late teens heading my way. They both had giant backpacks, and I wondered if they were NUT thru-hikers like me, or just out here on backcountry camping trip. When I said hello, they both smiled shyly, but neither one wanted to stopped to talk. They just kept their heads down like they were on a death march. So I guess I’ll just have to live with the mystery of where they were headed.
When I eventually arrived on the shores of Maidu Lake, I was surprised at how small it seemed to be. THIS was the headwaters of the mighty North Umpqua River? I’d seen the ferocity of the river raging in areas as it paralleled Highway 138. How could this tranquil alpine lake be the birthplace of those immense churning rapids?
But, then I remembered the Mississippi River. It’s own headwaters at Lake Itasca, Minnesota, are equally humble when compared to the broad beast dividing North America in half. So perhaps I shouldn’t have been so surprised by the serene start to the North Umpqua.
With that realization, I took a moment to appreciate Maidu Lake’s crystal clear turquoise water while hiking the trail around the lake’s shore. Dragonflies with bright blue wings danced on my forearms, and I’ll admit it almost felt magical.
DR. SUESS
The lake’s outlet and the terminus of the North Umpqua Trail was on the very far side of the lake. So, I had to circumnavigate my way around its edge to find it. In short order, I arrived at a small, wooden bridge spanning the meager beginnings of the North Umpqua River and the dense marshy ground beside it.
Much to my dismay, the trailhead for the NUT’s eastern terminus wasn’t marked with a big, bold, colorful sign like many of the other segments of trail. It was merely a small wooden sign bolted to a tree pointing the way toward the Kelsay Valley Trailhead, 9 miles in the distance. So there was little fanfare as I took my first steps on the trail.
I’d spend the next 79 miles gradually descending as the river heads out toward the Pacific Ocean. Not exactly a cake-walk, but I was happy I’d chosen to hike it westward to allow a more relaxing hike.
The first few miles of the Maidu Segment are pleasant enough trail, and I was distracted by the string-like moss wrapping itself around the trunks of all the trees. It reminded my of like something straight out of Dr. Suess’s imagination. I’d hiked many miles of my Appalachian Trail journey last summer with a fellow hiker named Moss, and starting upward at this sight made me miss my friend dearly.
MOSQUITO MADNESS
Before long, I was passing a side trail with a sign pointing to Lucile Lake – another alpine lake with a walk-in campground. I considered walking the short distance out to take a glimpse at the lake, but that was the moment when all the mosquitos in the state of Oregon decided to descend down on me and make my life miserable.
Sure, I’d noticed a few mosquitos here and there back at Maidu Lake, but now they were swarming around my head and body like they were getting ready for a feast. At that moment, I remember a small quote from the BLM’s trail brochure for the NUT. Although it didn’t contain any super-detailed information about this bit of the trail, there was one statement that caught my attention when describing the Maidu Segment:
Be prepared for hoards of mosquitos during the late spring and early summer months.
Yep. I’d found them. Luckily, I’d came out here prepared. I was wearing a long sleeve shirt, and I had a mosquito bug net to quickly throw ever my head and neck. I even had sun gloves to protect my hands and wrists and some picaridin to spray on my body, clothing, and gear.
And so, although Lucile Lake probably would have been a lovely place to stop and eat lunch, it wasn’t going to happen. I needed to keep moving to minimize my contact with this blight on my hike. Onward ho!
MY UNPLEASANT BURQA
Within a mile or two, the mosquitos seemed like they were starting to diminish and I longed to pull the front of my head net up to expose my face yet. I wasn’t 100% ready to take it off yet, as I could still hear them buzzing around my head and ears. So I continued to suffer out of an abundance of caution.
Wearing a mosquito bug net is a bit like what I imagine wearing a burqa must feel like. The discomfort of your hot breath trapped between your face and the dense material inches in front of it. The tight weave of the netting acting as a prism to obscure your direct and peripheral vision. It’s just not my idea fun. Seriously, just look at the pained expression on my face.
As the clouds of mosquitos receded with each mile of forward progress, I was able to lift the front of the head net over the brim of my sun visor. Feeling the cool breeze of fresh air on my face was such a welcome relief. I could breath once again. The scenery on the trail was more than just a grayish blur around me. Ah, sweet relief.
For the next few miles, the NUT followed a long downhill descent with tons of pine cones scattered on the trail. The trees became smaller and more spread out, and I could feel the warm mid-day sun beating down. It was hotter than I expected at this elevation, but I was grateful for a sunny, dry stretch of weather for my thru-hike.
I spent three years of my childhood living near this part of southern Oregon, and my memory is mostly filled with cool, rainy days. Sunshine and clear skies were a rarity in Oregon. But, that’s what the forecast holds for my thru-hike, and I want to enjoy every last bit of it without my mosquito burqa.
BYE BYE BIRDIE
As I continued to hike west, I had my first animal encounter on the trail, and its wasn’t a subtle or cute one. I was just walking along and I must have startled a wild pheasant nearby. It went flying across the trail, off to the other side, into some trees, then bounced right back to the trail and zigzagged like that for the next 20 seconds or so until it finally took off for good.
While this was initially a startling experience for me, I recovered quickly. The bird, on the other hand, seemed to border on downright distress when it couldn’t find a good escape path! Just ping-ponging its way back and forth down the trail, from one extreme to the the next.
This was about the same time the trail tread turned from a moist forest texture to soft, loose dirt that almost reminded me of beach sand. The sun’s exposure must have dried it out, and it tread slowed my pace considerably. But, at least it put some distance between me and the pheasant.
After about a mile or so of that sandy terrain, I was back under the trees again, and headed toward the moist forest. The North Umpqua River was becoming a true river now and I was pleased to see I was actually paralleling it. This what I’d been waiting for since all morning!
LUNCHTIME
As morning turned to early afternoon, my stomach began to growl and I began looking for a place to stop for lunch. My perfect spot came just a little but further up trail right after Tomo Creek. This creek was probably twice as wide as the North Umpqua, yet there weren’t any sort of bridges to get to the other side of the creek. That was odd.
I started to contemplate fording it since it appeared to only be a foot deep. But, fording a creek now would mean I’d have wet shoes and socks the rest of the day (possibly longer), and I didn’t really want that did I?
As my inner crybaby debated whether to ford the river seek an alternative, I spotted a downed tree 50 feet downstream. I could carefully walk across to avoid getting my feet wet. And on the other side was a series of campsites that would be perfect for lunch.
Normally, I tend to make my lunch breaks short and sweet on thru-hikes. But, my recent experience on the Tahoe Rim Trail convinced me that an extended lunch was a better option for my feet and body. I liked having an hour to take off my shoes, air out my feet, and just give my back a rest. Of course, the mosquitos weren’t going to leave me along for that long of a time, so I’d have to set up my tent if I really wanted a tranquil lunch.
While I ate and relaxed, I poured over my trail brochure and the nearby signs. I only had 3 more miles until the Kelsay Valley Trailhead. I’ve almost completed my first segment of the NUT. Woohoo!! Between the Miller Lake Trail up to Maidu Lake and the section I hiked before lunch, I’m now 10.75 miles down, with only 73 more to go!
LEMOLO
After lunch, the trail followed the North Umpqua, which was looking more like a legit river and less of a stream now. Lush, tall grasses still mostly obscured my views of the water, but the rushing sounds convinced me it was ever present as I made my way forward. The wildflowers were in bloom, and I almost forgot about the pesky mosquitos.
I made quick work of the remaining bit of the Maidu Segment and arrived at the Kelsay Valley trailhead feeling strong. Next up was the 6.3-mile long Lemolo Segment. The trail crossed a few long boardwalks beside the river and continued to parallel the water. But then I hit a dirt road and had to do some road walking before the trail began climbing up onto a hillside and I lost sight of the water yet again.
Mixed conifer forests of Douglas Fir, Lodgepole pines, and mighty Ponderosas towered above me and I headed toward Lemolo Lake. Eventually, as the trail edged closer to the lake, I began to see some blue diamonds posted to some of the trees a trail markers. They were fairly inconsistent in their spacing and seemed to much higher that most trail blazes I’d seen.
Based on the Kelsay Valley Horse Camp (back near the trailhead), the copious amount of horse dung on this segment, and the height of the blue markers, I had to assume they were primarily there for the equestrians using the trail.
As I made my way toward Lemolo Lake, the mosquitos re-emerged in full force and I had to pull my headset back out. I prayed to Mother Nature that this nuisance wouldn’t endure the entire time I’m out here thru-hiking the NUT. I know so many PCT thru-hikers who complained incessantly about how bad the mosquitos were when they hiked through southern Oregon.
LEMOLO LAKE
Eventually, I could see snippets of the Lemolo Lake off to my left, but the water was still far enough away and surrounded by so many dense trees that all I really got were some blurs of blue. As I continued walking west, paralleling the lake, I kept expecting to see a side trail that would connect me to the lake. But that moment never seemed to come.
Lemolo Lake isn’t a natural lake, like Miller Lake, Maidu Lake, or Lake Lucile. Instead, it’s a reservoir created from damming the North Umpqua River. This would be the first of several dams I’d pass on my journey, harnessing the natural power of river to provide power in Oregon.
When I eventually spied the parts of the dam at the western end of the lake getting closer, I knew my chance to see Lemolo Lake was quickly waning. But, more importantly, I needed to get down to the lake’s edge because I was running dangerously low on water. I’d gone though a liter of water after lunch, and now I was nearly tapped out.
Fearing the side trail down to the lake would never emerge, I decided to head cross-country and work my way down on my own. I just couldn’t wait any longer. As it was, I popped out of the woods and onto the road at the very western edge of the lake near the dam. And the final slope down to the water looked too steep to navigate. I might even have to backtrack east on the road. Dang it!
It took me a few minutes of searching, but I eventually found a small path through the dense brush where other hikers or animals worked their way down to the lake. It wasn’t quite as steep as I’d feared, and when I reached the water, I was rewarded with splendid views of the reservoir with Mt. Thielsen in the distance.
WHERE TO CAMP?
With a full liter of water tucked into my pack again, I reversed course and made my cross-country back up the hillside to the NUT. And wouldn’t you know it, only another 100 yards down the trail, I spied the side trail to the lake that I’d feared would never come. Oh well! Better safe than sorry, right?
It didn’t take too much longer before I finished the Lemolo Segment and reached the White Mule Trailhead. It was now getting close to 6 pm and I was starting think about dinner and where I wanted to make camp for the night. With the approach trail and the NUT’s two easternmost segments under my belt, I’d knocked out close to 20 miles today.
There weren’t any established USFS campsites anywhere nearby, so I knew I’d be stealth camping. But, now I needed to find a suitable place to pitch my tent. Preferably one with good access to water. Right before I reached this trailhead, I crossed over While Mule Creek. I was hoping it would be a good spot, but the creek wasbone dry, and there weren’t any flat spots anywhere to set up a campsite. So that wasn’t a viable option.
The White Mule trailhead spit me out onto a paved road, and running alongside it was a concrete aqueduct that was moving water from the dam down to the power plant. So there was plenty of water near the trailhead, but I didn’t want to camp beside a paved road where there were random cars parked. I wanted to camp in the backcountry along the river. So, I guess I’d keep pressing forward.
DON’T WANT TO GET WASHED AWAY
As I crossed the road to the beginning of the Dread and Terror Segment there was a sign announcing that Lemolo Falls was only 1.5 miles ahead. Ok, that would be my target for the night. I’d find myself a spot somewhere between this trailhead and Lemolo Falls, and then I’d set up camp.
There was only one issue. The dam back at Lemolo Lake drastically changed the level of the North Umpqua River. I was no longer hiking at the same elevation as the water. Instead, the river was several hundred feet below me. Moreover, it was a really, really steep drop down on the bank of the hillside down to the water. Was I making a mistake by venturing forward toward Lemolo Falls?
I decided to risk it, because I could see the trail ahead of me was sharply descending. I had to assume it would meet back up with the river soon. And sure enough, my wager paid off. About a 3/4 of a mile later, I was within 20 feet from the edge of the river.
That’s right about the time I spied a nice campsite right on the water’s edge. It was well-defined enough that others NUT hikers clearly used this spot in the past. It had just enough room for me to set up my tent and cook dinner for the evening. And, it had easy access to the water.
Upon closer inspection though, I noticed it the site was barely above the waterline. Sure it was a scenic spot, but it was a little unnerving to be that incredibly close to the water – especially since it could rise with little notice if the dam released some extra water. Of all the things I read and researched for this thru-hike, I didn’t even consider the reading up on the dams and water levels.
I decided to put a pin in this site. If I didn’t find anything better before Lemolo Falls, I knew I could backtrack and come back here. It was still better than camping at the trailhead near the aqueduct. But, perhaps there would be something even better up ahead. If there was one campsite, there had to be more, right?
LEMOLO FALLS
I kept walking and scanning the area for another campsite, but none seemed to emerge. This terrain didn’t allow for hikers to just walk off into the woods and stomp out their own site. And there wasn’t anything flat as far as I could see. The hillside on my right when straight up with giant boulders that would take technical climbing skills to scale. Meanwhile, the slope down to the river was equally steep and covered with fallen trees and thick underbrush.
After another 20 minutes of walking, I was beginning regret passing that initial campsite. But, I held steady. I told myself I’d continue walking until the falls. It might be throwing good money after bad, but I was convinced there had to be something more suitable.
Moments later, I saw a second campsite nestled down by the water’s edge. This one was a little more elevated from the water’s level, but it was a decent site. Being that it was both flat and big enough to accommodate my tent, I could definitely make it work.
Perhaps I was being greedy, but I decided to walk just a little bit further to see if I’d find an even better one. I still hadn’t reached the falls, and if it didn’t work out, I’d still have this site to fall back on. Given how few people I’d see out here on trail, I wasn’t worried that anyone else would snag it.
It was only another 1/4 mile up the trail to the falls, and there were pretty spectacular. Lemolo Falls is a 100-foot high horse-tail type waterfall, which means that as the water drops over the edge it in a narrow stream, then spreads out during its descent – much like a horse’s tail.
I crossed paths with two day hikers who were just heading back to the trailhead to one of the cars I’d seen parked up near the aqueduct. And so, I had the falls all to myself. I dropped my pack and wandered out to a rocky outcropping to get some evening photo of the falls, and was in awe of how gorgeous it seemed.
The rush of the water as it dropped close to 10 stories created a loud roar, and I knew I wouldn’t want to sleep that close to the falls after all. Best to return to the riverside campsite I’d seen a 1/4 mile back.
CAMPSITE WOES
It was getting close to 7pm by the time I made it back to that second campsite. I had at least an hour before the sun would set, but with all the tall tree cover deep in this canyon and the sun’s angle low in the sky, it feel like it was already dusk.
I hurriedly set up my tent and decided to send Keith a message from my Garmin letting him know I was stopping for the night. That’s when I discovered one of the other difficulties out here on the NUT. There were so many tall trees around me that I was having trouble finding a spot where I had a clear view of the sky to connect with the satellites.
After 10 long minutes of standing around in a semi-clear spot on the trail waiting for my message to send, I gave up. I ended up just putting my Garmin on a rock and returning to my campsite to attend to the rest of my camp chores. I still needed to cook dinner, wash my legs and feet off in the river, filter water for the morning and change into some dry warm clothes.
I went back to retrieve my Garmin 30 minutes later and was pleased to see it finally acquired enough signal to send. Whew! Keith wouldn’t panic if I failed to check in, but I still like to send him a message each night and make sure he had my exact location — just in case.
After eating dinner and cleaning up for the night, I wandered off to tie my Ursack to a tree about 75 yards away to make sure I wasn’t attracting animals to my camp. I ended up walking through a bit of low brush to the spot I’d selected, and was I was tying it to the tree when I felt a sharp pain in the back of my calf. Did I step on a thorn bush? Then I felt a second sting, and I realized I was being stung by some tiny ground dwelling bees.
Oh for crying out loud!!! I quickly returned to my tent, yelping and hopping through the brush, and hoping to avoid more bees.
BEES – REDUX
Right before I turned in for the night, I went off by a log to brush my teeth and pee one last time. That’s when I quickly discovered I’d found even more bees!!! So there I was – with my pants already down and doing my business – when an angry bee decided to sting me right at top of my exposed butt crack!!!
Really?!? Why was this happening???
Once again I was hopping away from these maniacal bees and safely in my tent to check out the damage. I’ve been stung by bees before and didn’t have any allergic reactions, but those had been typical honey bees, not these vicious ground-nesting Umpqua bees who seemed to hate me. Holy crap, it hurt. My skin felt like it was on fire. And the new bee sting in my butt crack itched, and stung, and burned, all at the same time. I couldn’t see or feel any stinger broken off in my skin, so I just had to suffer in pain.
And so that’s how I finished off my first day on the NUT.
NUT DAY 1 SUMMARY
HIGHLIGHTS
- Crossing paths with the PCT on my way up from Miller Lake. What a sweet reminder of the lovely West Coast Trail that I dream of someday thru-hiking.
- Maidu Lake. While it was smaller than I’d anticipated, the turquoise, crystal clear water were definitely a memorable start to the trail.
- Although I saw dozens of waterfalls today, Lemolo Falls was something truly spectacular.
CHALLENGES
- The mosquitos from Lake Lucile to Lemolo Lake. Man oh man, what a nuisance.
- Almost missing Lemolo Lake and having to hike cross-country to get there. It sure would be nice for the USFS to make a side trail somewhere in the middle of the lake since the trail doesn’t naturally get all that close to the water
- Vicious bees looking to make themselves known!