North Umpqua Trail: Marsters Segment

(Click on any picture for larger view and slide show)

 

 

Trailhead sign

I’ve heard it said that if you’ve been a little under the weather, or perhaps getting over an illness, a little exercise is actually good for you, as long as you don’t over-do it and your body is capable. This was the case for me, as I was sick a few weeks ago back in February. Ever since then, I’ve been feeling just kinda “blah”. But once the self-pity subsided and the weather forecast looked cheerful, I decided it was time to trail-test my new backpack I just received from REI.

 



Fern

This hike would be the Marsters segment, which would put another notch in my N.U.T belt. I arrived at the trailhead near Horse Shoe Bend campground about 11:00, and hit the dirt path under a clear, sunlit sky, even though I would never get the chance to actually enjoy it:  I would be on the north side of the hill avoiding the sun as I traipsed through shade the entire hike. Ok, so I wasn’t done with my self-pity yet.

 



My instructions for this hike

The sign at the trailhead instructed me to “be a responsible hiker”, as well as suggest that I make “minor trail repairs” if able to. I always do my best, wherever I hike, to clear the trail of any annoying limb, rocks, and other debris if I can. I had not noticed this sign prior to this hike, so I wondered if they had put it on this trailhead, on this section of the trail, for any particular reason…

 





Shady forest

With pep in my step, I was eager to get my hiking legs moving again after a 3 week hiatus, so I moved swiftly the first mile to see how they fared. They held up well, thank you very much. The trail was a gradual up and down above the river, with evergreen trees, moss, and ferns dominating the scenery. Yep, lots of green today!

 

A little over a mile into my “recovery” hike, I came to a screeching halt, as I came across some “debris”, which was certainly obstructing the path. Ahh, this is where the “responsible hiker” part comes in, eh? I was able to remove the top part of the tree, which had managed to detach itself from it’s heavier bottom, with no problem, but struggled with the heavier trunk, which was at least 40 feet long and very heavy. I was able to rock it back and forth, trying to get it to roll over the bank, but it defied all my efforts. Ok, now I was determined to move this thing. I set my camera down, took my pack off, and dug in. I heaved-ho for nearly 5 minutes, pushing, pulling, and breaking a sweat before the log finally let loose it’s grasp, eventually rolling a whopping 4 feet over the edge. As I stood up panting and sweating over my bark-covered defeated adversary, I managed to blurt out a Stewie-esque “Victory is mine” and bid adieu to this bout with nature.

After my “minor trail repair”, I grabbed my camera and backpack and started off again. Only then did I discover I had not escaped unscathed from my mighty tree battle. With blood running down my right ring finger, I noticed I had sustained a minor injury on my knuckle. Actually, it sounds worse than it was. A little direct pressure and the bleeding stopped quickly. Undeterred, I moved on, hoping I wouldn’t have to kick another dead tree’s ass.

 

 

 

This section of the N.U.T. is the epitome of what green is in Oregon. The trail was flanked by emerald moss and deep green ferns nearly the entire length. The river was almost always within eyesight, with the occasional detour to cross a bridge over a creek, making for some good photo-ops with longer exposure settings on my camera.

 

I eventually reached the end of this section of trail at Marsters Bridge. I took a short lunch break near the river, then promptly reversed course and headed back down river. By this time the sun was at the peak of teasing me while it lit up the hillside on the opposite side of the river. I did, however, get to enjoy a little bit of the sun as it managed to peak through certain southerly facing parts of the trail.

 

With the end of this 7.7 mile hike only a few steps away, I had totally forgotten about my previous illness and any self-pity I may have had. This hike was just what the doctor ordered. It’s amazing what just a few moments of walking in the sun can do for your mood. And kicking a tree’s ass.

 

North Umpqua Trail: Calf Segment

(Click on any picture for larger view and slide show)

In my ongoing quest to complete the 79-mile N.U.T. (North Umpqua Trail) by the year’s end (which may actually happen earlier than I thought) I decided to take on one section which I haven’t been particularly looking forward to. This would be the 4 mile Calf segment of the N.U.T.

I had 2 reasons for not relishing this part of the trail. For one, this is where the 2002 Apple fire had left it’s unpleasant mark on the trail and hillside. And two, the trail is within sight of the highway for well over half it’s length, giving you that civilized and not-so-secluded feeling. And as everyone knows, seclusion is one of the many reasons we all hike.

 

However, it was part of the trail, and I had to hike it nonetheless, shamelessly using it to achieve my own selfish goal.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I figured since I would have company in the form of vehicle traffic just a stone’s throw away across the river, why not have some human companionship too? So I decided to take my youngest son Colby with me. And I did so without any hesitancy, as I knew his years of ADHD-motivated pacing made him the perfect candidate for keeping up with me on this relatively flat portion of the trail. In fact, I wouldn’t hesitate to drag Colby anywhere I hike, for I know his legs are in better shape than mine. (As I sit writing this within an hour after our hike, he is pacing back and forth in the house, as if the 8 miles he just finished never happened. I hate youth…)

 

We arrived at the trailhead with clear blue skies above us, and the temperature hovering right at freezing. On the bright side, we had no wind chill factor to factor in on this day, so all was well. Literally speaking however, on the not-so bright side, the trail would run along the north side of the hill, offering us a predictable sunless hike, with Mr. Sun shining his teasingly glow on the opposite hillside across the river.

 

 

The first part of the trail was crispy and crunchy under our feet, as we walked upon frozen earth and thin layers of ice crystals. It was a nice contrast to the landscape, being a bit charred from the fire about a dozen years ago. There were plenty signs of life, however, as the undergrowth had already returned, and young trees taller than myself had already begun their upward climb towards the sky.

 

 

 

The trail hugged the river, never straying too far above it, but never getting quite close enough to make a quick jaunt to the water’s edge, just so you can dip your foot into it’s icy chill. Not that I wanted to on this day, but it would’ve been tempting in the summer.

 

 

 

With the river constantly babbling at us and a random vehicle passing by every now and then, we encountered more moss covered rocky hillsides than I had seen in a long time. Seeing all this emerald green lushness, it was hard to imagine incredible heat and destruction had passed through here not so long ago. So far, this hike wasn’t as bleak as I had envisioned it would be, but it still hadn’t impressed me much.

 

 

About a mile or so from Calf Creek, which was our turn around point, the river took a horseshoe bend to the south before turning back toward the north. They call this part of the river Horseshoe Bend. Go figure. It was here, however, that the trail suddenly transformed from an ugly duckling to a swan…

 

 

 

 

 

The steep hillside, which had been on one side of us, unexpectedly leveled out, revealing a great view of the terrain through sun-filtered trees. As the trail curved south, we were greeted with those warm, elusive rays, which are highly coveted this time of year. As a bonus, the road, which thus far had been a constant companion, had disappeared far up the opposite hillside out of view, leaving just me, my son, and my other ‘sun’ in the seclusion which, as previously mentioned, is a reason we hike.

 

I think he's happy that the sun arrived

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

With a renewed pep in our step, we took in views of the horseshoe bend in the river below, pausing to take a few pictures and a quick snack along the way. We circled around to the south, then to the northeast, eventually leaving the sunlit trail, but maintaining a great view of the river below.

 

 

 

  

 

 

We soon reached the end of the Calf segment of the N.U.T. at Calf Creek (go figure), checked the gps at exactly 4 miles, and then turned around.

 



 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We hadn’t had a proper sit-down lunch stop yet, so we decided to veer off-trail just a bit (one of my favorite hike-things to do) and found a nice sun-drenched log near the river. After sharing a pepperoni stick and an apple, Colby and I hit the trail again and proceeded further down river.

 



 

 



Saving a tree... wow, he's so strong

As we neared the end of the day’s hike, I thought about this portion of the trail, and what it looks like from the road just on the opposite side of the river. I’ve always observed it from that angle and thought to myself “Well, that doesn’t look like too appealing of a hike, does it?”…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

At first glance, the Calf segment is sort of like the ugly step-sister of trails when compared to the rest of the prettier and more popular segments of the trail. It has scars, right there in plain view of all who drive by it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

But, just like in fairytales, once you get past the surface and take a closer look for yourself, the real beauty is revealed in ways you didn’t expect. I believe this happened today...

 

 ...Or, perhaps I just used this part of the trail to help achieve my own selfish goal.