Chapter 15 ~ Page 198
The reason for this race from meadow to meadow was that grazing was scarce in the deep timber. We followed the old trail the majority of the way through the Mt. Jefferson Wilderness Area. We could hardly see the forest because of the trees. This was disappointing in that many hikers we had talked with felt that the new trail was the prettiest stretch in all of Oregon.
Unfortunately, to live up to the name, "Pacific Crest," this new construction had been laid out directly on top of the divide over Rockpile Mountain, and Cinder Peaks. And, though it was now the first week in August, in what was an abnormally dry summer, we had heard that there were still patches of snow on the heights that would have been difficult to traverse on horseback. Built for hikers, in twenty-five miles there wasn't anyplace suitable for horses to camp, there was only one pond for water.
While I think it admirable that the trails concept was so highly thought of here (pun intended), routing the pathway over the tops of mountains that are covered with snow until late in the season makes it difficult for the through traveler. One of the items expedition backpackers, meeting an itinerary, need carry today is an ice ax.
Then there is a practice—since I seem to be editorializing once again—perhaps due to a lack of trail funds caused by the enormous expenditure of building and maintaining one ultimate pathway, of the old route being abandoned. At a number of unmarked junctions we had to search past a pile of brush to find where the 'hidden' trail took off.
Where the two trails met, as in Jefferson Park (just another name for a meadow) we had a preview of how all of us together can love an area so much it is destroyed. This absolutely beautiful valley is pictured on the cover of the official trail map. Only six miles from a road, it is the most popular wilderness camping ground in Oregon.
We could tell this by the amount of garbage laying about. The outdoor ethic today is to pack out every can, every scrap of aluminum foil, instead of burning and burying. Some people never learn. Others care. Often times groups will clean up an area, bag it, and leave it piled along side the trail for horse packers, or the Forest Service to worry about. At Jefferson Park, we filled four empty grain panniers with litter to pack out to the nearest garbage can.
Three of the pannier loads were the left-overs of backpackers. One—dammit—of a so-called horseman. It was easy to tell by a campsite what method of transportation the slob had used. Beginning backpackers are prone to leaving bits of plastic sheeting used to erect a temporary lean-to shelter. Hunters on horseback are known for building rustic tables and hitch rails.
Unfortunately, to live up to the name, "Pacific Crest," this new construction had been laid out directly on top of the divide over Rockpile Mountain, and Cinder Peaks. And, though it was now the first week in August, in what was an abnormally dry summer, we had heard that there were still patches of snow on the heights that would have been difficult to traverse on horseback. Built for hikers, in twenty-five miles there wasn't anyplace suitable for horses to camp, there was only one pond for water.
While I think it admirable that the trails concept was so highly thought of here (pun intended), routing the pathway over the tops of mountains that are covered with snow until late in the season makes it difficult for the through traveler. One of the items expedition backpackers, meeting an itinerary, need carry today is an ice ax.Then there is a practice—since I seem to be editorializing once again—perhaps due to a lack of trail funds caused by the enormous expenditure of building and maintaining one ultimate pathway, of the old route being abandoned. At a number of unmarked junctions we had to search past a pile of brush to find where the 'hidden' trail took off.
Where the two trails met, as in Jefferson Park (just another name for a meadow) we had a preview of how all of us together can love an area so much it is destroyed. This absolutely beautiful valley is pictured on the cover of the official trail map. Only six miles from a road, it is the most popular wilderness camping ground in Oregon.
We could tell this by the amount of garbage laying about. The outdoor ethic today is to pack out every can, every scrap of aluminum foil, instead of burning and burying. Some people never learn. Others care. Often times groups will clean up an area, bag it, and leave it piled along side the trail for horse packers, or the Forest Service to worry about. At Jefferson Park, we filled four empty grain panniers with litter to pack out to the nearest garbage can.
Three of the pannier loads were the left-overs of backpackers. One—dammit—of a so-called horseman. It was easy to tell by a campsite what method of transportation the slob had used. Beginning backpackers are prone to leaving bits of plastic sheeting used to erect a temporary lean-to shelter. Hunters on horseback are known for building rustic tables and hitch rails.
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Text and Photographs © Barry Murray 1971-2007 Mac&Murray Multimedia