AdventureTaco - turbodb's build and adventures

Thanks! I do love it down there in Utah, and I was pleasantly surprised by the northern section of the route through the Uintas. Beautiful country up there, and so different then what I'm used to on Cedar Mesa. Moab area still too "happening" for me, but it's so easy to find so much awesome stuff everywhere else, that I'm glad the crowds concentrate themselves there!

Appreciate the kudos, I do always try to be a respectful visitor.

Hahaha, thanks!

I'd love to do something like that - @mrs.turbodb and I have talked about making "BBDR" routes (Better BDR), since there's always so much missing on these things. Problem is, I already feel like I'm writing a good chunk of the time, and actually putting together a book seems like a TON of work. Plus, while I support folks getting out there, I do think that it's good for everyone to do a bit of work to see some of the off-the-main-path sights, since that little bit of work cuts down on some of the InstaTubers that don't really know how to treat the outdoors (see Do you have a GPX for that?). Who knows, maybe one day - when I've gotten my fill of roaming under blue skies and sleeping under the stars - it'll be fun to do something like that.

 

Smoke in the Siskiyous | Siskiyou Crest 1
Part of the Siskiyou Crest Adventure Trail (Aug 2023) trip.

With much of our summer taken up with a kitchen remodel - perhaps a non-adventure story that I'll share some details of once we've completed it - and the Tacoma in Washington after we abandoned our non-refundable plane tickets after running the Utah Backcountry Discovery Route (UTBDR) in July, we were looking for somewhere a little closer to home as we started feel the antsy urge to escape to the outdoors.

Not having had the time to plan a route - a process I enjoy, but that can consume nearly as much time as a trip itself - it dawned on me that I could leverage the work of the good folks over at Overland Trail Guides to at least find a nice area to explore.

I've chatted with Ben (who runs the site) many times in the past as he and I have shared tips, locations, and ideas about great places to explore, so I sent a quick email to inquire about a trip through the Siskiyous that I'd noticed on his site. Located along the Oregon-California border, it looked like it could be the perfect getaway for us. The only catch - the Flat Fire was burning nearby, so we'd have to be stay alert to evacuations, and keep our fingers crossed that we wouldn't be smoked out.

Route in hand, we headed south towards a wild land, nestled between the Cascades of the Pacific Northwest and the Sierra of California.

As we passed through Tacoma, a blacked out Chinook thumped by overhead.​

Just south of Portland, a mileage milestone.​

I think it was a half hour north of Grants Pass that clear blue skies began to turn hazy. We knew this was a possibility, but hoped that the 90 minutes or so to Ashland would take us through the worst of the smoke and that northly winds would push the smoke away, just for another few days.

Luckily, the smoke mostly seemed to be above us, and after a quick stop in Medford for taco truck dinner, we arrived in Ashland as the sun was listing towards the horizon. Deciding that it'd be better to start the trail in the morning with the sun at our backs, we noticed a nice little chunk of (Bureau of Land Management) BLM land to our east, and soon found a little spot near the Pacific Crest Trail to call home for the evening.

I'm never a fan of locked logging gates on public land, but at least we wouldn't have to worry about traffic on this little spur.​

The following morning...

Even having gone to bed at an extremely reasonable hour, we'd forgotten to bring pillows and so didn't sleep all that well, resulting in our getting up a little later than usual, right around 7:30am. A quick stop for fuel and an anything-but-quick-stop for a road work flagger, and by 9:00am we were off pavement and officially underway on the Siskiyou Crest Adventure Trail!

One of the cooler National Forest entrance signs we've seen.​

Onto dirt and into our first tree tunnel.​

I have to say, the first several miles of trail had me worried. One of the reasons I seem to gravitate towards the southwest in many of my travels is that here, in the Pacific Northwest, it is so easy to be in a totally spectacular place but not be able to see it due to all the trees! I don't know if @mrs.turbodb was feeling the same way, but I surely wasn't going to bring it up this early in the trip. And, luckily, my fears were alleviated a half hour later as we gained elevation and the road began to open up to the vast beauty around us.

I always love the peeling bark of the madrone trees. Along with manzanita, this is what I think of when I think of "going to the mountains."​

We got our first peek at the peak as we came around the bend.​

Definitely hope we can check out the radome on Mt. Ashland a bit more closely!​

It took another half hour or so of windy roads and anticipation to reach the top of Mt. Ashland. Part of a ski resort that I didn't even know existed, I can imagine riding up the chair lift just for the 360° view that presented itself when we got to the top. The perfect place for breakfast, my copilot set about pouring cereal while I wandered around snapping a few photos.

I made sure to strategically position us for the optimal breakfast view of Mt. Shasta to the south.​

Looking down from the top of the Ariel lift, Mt. McLoughlin rising up over the smoke.​

We'd picked up some generic Kroger brand Honey N' Oats with Almonds cereal and I have to say, I actually liked it better than the real stuff we'd forgotten at home. Strangely, the traits that usually make generics less appealing - like a more rustic grind to the corn flakes, and a thicker cut on the almonds - worked well in this case, a nice surprise as we munched away on the top of Mt. Ashland.

Soon though, we were both downing the last drops of milk in our bowls and excited to hike a few hundred feet to the top of the mountain. There, the radome glistened in the sun, and we were sure the views would be even more magnificent.

Radome sunstar.​

Never seen a survey marker that is a "horizontal control mark."​

More than a little smoky between us and Mt. Shasta.​

Knowing that we had nearly 350 miles to travel in the next three days, and keen to get a few more of those in our rear-view mirror, we headed back to the Tacoma and were soon descending the glorious road that'd delivered us to our first fantastic view of the day. Below us to the southwest, the smoky, mountainous terrain sprawled into infinity; around us, the day-to-day splendor of nature flourished.

Off we go...​

We didn't make it far before stopping to admire a few flying friends.​

And flittering ladies. (Painted Lady - Vanessa cardui)​

And floating fuzz. (Yellow goatsbeard)​

For the next day - and then some - we'd find ourselves winding along next to the Pacific Crest Trail. Running into adventurers much more adventurous than we were, their trek between Mexico and Canada was some 2,653 miles long, many of them passing each other here in the Siskiyous, approximately halfway along the route.

I love hiking, but as we rolled along the ridge above the PCT, I was glad to have a gas pedal.​

Even I love a good tree tunnel when it's part of a varied terrain.​

Of course, while we'd be making faster progress than those on foot, we definitely weren't setting any records for how quickly we were ticking away the inches along this section of the route. Easily distracted, we soon found ourselves out of the truck again, and on our way to the Dutchman Peak Lookout.

A sign on the gate informed us that lookout hours of operation were "9-5 when the flag is flying."
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Never forget to turn around when you're hiking or driving. You might miss the view over Silver Fork Basin.​

Dutchman Peak is the last of the Oregon's original cupola lookouts that is still in use. Built in 1927 it is one of the oldest lookouts remaining in service in the United States. Originally called the Lost Dutchman, it got its name after a German named Hensley - mining at the mouth of Wards Fork nearby - took his pack horse to a trading post near Hilt, California for winter supplies just before Christmas. After picking up some grub and a gallon of whiskey, a storm passed through as he was on his way home and he never returned to camp. The next spring his horse was found grazing near Squaw Lakes and eventually his body was found on the west side of Dutchman's Peak.

Historical Note in Lookout​

A predictably commanding view.​

Though the flag was flying, we arrived to an empty cupola, perhaps the lookout off to the local trading post for the week's supplies. Hopefully with more success than Hensley of course. At any rate, we let ourselves in and had a look around at the rather sparsely furnished lower room, before signing the guest book and getting on our way.

Strange to leave the flag flying when the lookout is clearly unmanned.​

Great views and clean.
⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐, would use again.​

As we headed back down, we got our first - that we noticed - view of a distant Preston Peak, still with a teeny bit of snow.​

Now headed south, we continued to cross over the Pacific Crest Trail as we made our way into California. We were on a spur off of the main route, headed south to Dry Lake Lookout, billed by Oregon Byways - a book that @mrs.turbodb had brought along - as "worth a visit."

Here, today, to us, borders held little import. Rather, we were searching for a good place - in the shade - to have lunch and satisfy our grumbling stomachs. To others however, borders were everything, and as the forest opened up - on a meadow that contained a cabin we hoped to eat at - we stumbled upon some of those "others," already relaxing on the front porch.

I don't know if every PCT marker was either shot up or stolen, but we didn't see any that were in good shape.​

When you run out of budget, but still have an I-beam.​

Our planned lunch spot, occupied!​

Built in 1935 as a line cabin for ranchers running cattle in the mountains, the Donomore Cabin wasn't always a nice stop for PCT hikers. In fact, until about a decade ago, it was slowly falling into disrepair, the tough winter snows taking their toll on the place. However, beginning in 2015, a couple of families who once lived on the land began to stabilize and repair the old structure, which is now a welcome sight for those pushing their way through the Siskiyous on their long journey through the mountains.

Inside, the current residents - one headed north, the other south - had the place feeling downright homey.​

Apparently, everyone needs a trailname.​

After chatting with the hikers for a bit, we excused ourselves in order to continue our search for a shady spot with a view - a tall order when the providers of shade are also generally anti-view-devices. For another hour, nothing great really presented itself, so we continued on with a few snacks, eventually finding ourselves at the former site of the Dry Lake Lookout.

Despite the name, Dry Lake Lookout was - had it still been there - on the top of a mountain.​

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Constructed in 1925, the lookout replaced a small 'shack' that was used previously. The structure - eventually removed in 1971 - was a California Region 5 Plan 4AR cabin with a 6-foot enclosed timber tower.

USFS - Siskiyou County Museum Collection​

Thankfully, as we headed back toward the Oregon border and the main Siskiyou Crest Trail, the sun had pivoted far enough in the sky to provide a bit of shade along the edge of an old logging platform. Waking my companion from her "after-breakfast" nap, I grabbed the Cheetos and set up the chairs while she assembled the turkey sandwiches that we hoped would be as great as those we'd had on the Utah BDR nearly a month earlier.

Time for lunch!​

It was a quarter-to-three when we wrapped up lunch - a time that would come back to bite us when it came to eating dinner at a reasonable hour - and crossed back into Oregon. We'd remain in this state - though only a stone's throw from California - for the remainder of the day, winding our way along ridgelines and slaloming along streams, as we worked our way west.

These Christmas Trees have really gotten out of hand.​

@mrs.turbodb is the one who spotted the lookout first.​

Window shutters are open, hope we can go up!​

No dice.​

With the road closed a little more than a mile - and 2,000 vertical feet below - the Acorn Woman Peak Lookout, there was no way we were going to make the trek up there. Though we were a bit bummed given the open shutters, we later discovered that this is a lookout that is rented by the USFS, so the occupants probably wouldn't have been happy to see us anyway.

Looking out over the Siskiyous, and Acorn Woman Lakes.​

Working our way off the ridge, we soon found ourselves along the Applegate River, some 2,000 feet lower than we'd spent most of the day. It was hot. Definitely not an elevation we wanted to spend the night at, we turned up the air conditioning and enjoyed the meandering pavement as we worked our way past Applegate Lake and a swimming hole that nearly coaxed us into the water!

Happy tank.​

It's hard to see from this angle, but there's a "jump" at the end of the spillway. Would be cool to see water hurling down that ramp!​

Applegate Lake looked like a great way to cool off.​

It was nearly 5:00pm when we turned off the highway and began a 50-mile loop that would eventually deliver us back to nearly this same point the following morning. Of course, @mrs.turbodb - paying closer attention to the maps than I do - knew that already, but I wouldn't realize it until she informed me of it nearly twelve hours later. Yep, I'm a quick one.

Regardless, for now we were gaining altitude - thank goodness! - on our way to the Whisky Ridge Jeep Trail, a trail that I hoped would provide a little bit of variety given the well-graded roads we'd traversed so far.

A break in the trees gave us our first glimpse of Whisky Peak.​

Now, I should have realized by the name - "Jeep Trail" - that what we were in for was more of the same graded gravel we'd seen all day. Still, the views were getting better and better as we reached the ridgeline - which could have been achieved in an actual Honda Ridgeline as easily as in any "Trail Rated" Jeep - and as we crested the ridge, @mrs.turbodb noticed that there was a hiking trail to an old lookout. Only about half a mile long and at our highest point on the ridge, it seemed like a great way to end the day, our plan to find a campsite nearby once we came back down.

From the trailhead, it was some 700 feet to Whisky Peak, and we gained altitude quickly.​

As we headed up the trail, we were high enough to get a little wildflower action. (Alpine aster - Aster alpinus)​

The Scarlet gilia (Ipomopsis aggregata) was looking nice as well.​

A break in the trees revealed a spectacular view of the Red Buttes.​

Climbing mostly on the east side of the mountain - and therefore mostly in the shade - we made quick work of the hike and soon found ourselves at the top of a very narrow ledge. Perched there, a stone-and-concrete foundation with a few boards still strewn about was all that remained of the Whisky Peak Lookout.

Where has the lookout gone?​

Originally built in 1922, the original small wood-framed cabin was replaced by a 14' x 14' gable-roof L-4 cab in 1930.

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The original lookout building.
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Upgraded model.
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During the early years of World War II, the Army Air Corps took over a number of U.S. Forest Service fire-lookout facilities on the Pacific Coast as part of its Aircraft Warning Service (AWS). This emergency program employed observers scan the western skies for enemy aircraft while a new technology - RAdio Detection And Ranging (radar) - could be perfected and strategically installed. Among those lookouts was the Siskiyou-Rogue River National Forest's 6,497-foot-high Whisky Peak.

Perched on the summit next to a near-vertical 600-foot drop to Low Gap Creek, the lookout became winter quarters for Bill Zeigler, and another AWS man. Their task at Whisky Peak, which was in a rugged and remote portion of southeastern Josephine County, was to report to the army by means of crank telephone any aircraft heard or observed. Forest Service crews on skis delivered food and other supplies to the pair every two weeks.

After several years of abandon, the lookout was salvaged for the new Sand Mountain Lookout near Sisters, Oregon in 1989.

Oregon Encyclopedia​

Not long after we reached the top, we headed back down to the Tacoma and found what I can only describe as our best camp site of the adventure. Perched at the top of a precipitous drop, we were mostly above the smoke and had a cool breeze blowing through camp.

Unfortunately, I can't say the same great things about dinner. So accustomed have we become to our flights to Las Vegas and provisioning in the grocery store there before heading out that I'd completely forgotten to bring salsa to make guacamole for our taco-rittoes. This fact in itself wouldn't have been all that terrible, except that the avocados I'd brought along were still hard as a rock, and completely inedible. Still, we would have been just fine had I remembered to put the Tapatio into the meat-bean-rice mixture that filled the bulk of our tortillas and provided a nice spicy flavor.

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At least we had a nice view.​

Our dinner disaster behind us, there was nothing to do but enjoy the long orange rays of the sun as it settled into the smoke soup covering the land as far as the eye could see.

When you have to be careful stepping out of the tent, you've found a good spot.​

Goodnight sun.​

It'd been a long day. Though we were less than 40 miles from our starting point, we'd covered a little more than 135 miles of trail on the 310-mile route, easily keeping us on schedule for the remainder of our trip.

And so, climbing into the tent, our spirits were high. All we could hope was that the winds would keep the worst of the smoke to our west, and that none of our roads would be blocked by flames.

But let's not get ahead of ourselves...

 

I had to look up Horizontal Control and I found this. What you describe as ramps, could they be access points to check the structurability of the dam?

 

Welcome to my backyard, looks like you found the goods. Next time I highly recommend driving the upper road into the Red Buttes, lots of good hikes and mountain lakes up there!

 

So, as we were going over C & G Pass (headed south), I looked over at the road that I think you're referring to, with the PCT above it, and mentioned how it looked like it would be a fun place to explore. Didn't even realize until just now, as I was looking for a route, that we were looking at the backside of the buttes. @mrs.turbodb was just as surprised when I showed her! (which is rare, generally she's on top of exactly where we are and what's around us!)

 

That's the one! Just an out and back road but it's worthwhile.

 

Yeah, I can see that.

 

Rivers of the Siskiyou | Siskiyou Crest 2
Part of the Siskiyou Crest Adventure Trail (Aug 2023) trip.

Perched along Whisky Ridge, we hoped that the cool breeze blowing through the tent would sweep away some of the smoky haze that had accumulated the previous afternoon. Alas, we had no such luck, evidenced by the orange glow extending far from the horizon as the sun worked its way into view.

Even without an alarm, I seem to wake up a few minutes before sunrise when I'm out in the wild.​

Layers of light stretched into the distance.​

To the west, the moon was making its final descent towards the summit of Whisky Peak...​

...chased from the sky by the ball of fire.​

Knowing that it'd start to get warm quickly as the sun climbed into the sky, and that we had nearly 150 miles of mountainous terrain to cover between our current location and the spot we hoped to call home the next morning, we were both down the ladder only a few minutes apart and decided to wait on breakfast so we could enjoy and early morning traverse down the length of Whisky Ridge.

The trail through the woods had a completely different feel in the blue light of morning.​

As we wove in-and-out of the trees, Red Buttes and other peaks of the Siskiyou rose to our south.​

A nice touch at the Whisky Ridge overlook.​

Over the first 15 miles of the day, we dropped more than 4,000 feet as we crossed from Oregon to California, the skinny pedal used only rarely, our gas mileage nearly infinite. It was prime time for deer, and several of them bounced quickly out of the way, our approach masked by bends in the road. Ultimately, we found ourselves along side the Middle Fork of the Applegate River - only a few miles from where we'd turned north the previous afternoon - when @mrs.turbodb mentioned a waterfall she'd found on Gaia.

Nothing of the sort was shown on my Backcountry Navigator XE maps, but this is a great reason to use more than one route planning tool, and after a bit of nosing around in the woods along various camp site spurs, we found one of the nicest, most private waterfalls we've seen in quite some time.

It was nice to get off the beaten path, and find some narrower, less-travelled dirt.​

Twin falls.​

Nature's shower.​

Take your pick.​

To both our surprise - and despite all the water - there were no mosquitoes intent on destroying the peaceful oasis, allowing us to spend nearly 15 minutes hopping amongst the rocks, contemplating a morning dip, and playing around with exposure settings. Eventually though, it was time to continue deeper into California - towards Seiad Valley and our second river of the day, the Klamath.

Across a WWII-era steel bridge, we left the Applegate River behind for the last time.​

Before reaching the Klamath River, we had one more pass to climb - Cook & Green Pass. As with much of the previous day, this section of our route was intertwined with the Pacific Crest Tral (PCT) and there were several points at which we slowed to a crawl in order to reduce our dust profile, as we passed hikers already huffing and puffing as they tried to take advantage of the morning cool.

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The forest around Cook & Green Pass was heavily impacted by the Miller Complex Fires of 2017, and we'd brought along the chainsaw due to recent reports of timber across the road.​

Over the pass and into the sunlight.​

We'd planned to stop for breakfast at Horsetail Falls, but another Tacoma was already there when we arrived. Turns out that the driver was performing support crew duties - which included delivering breakfast-by-a-waterfall - for his girlfriend who was hiking north on the PCT, a pretty good gig if you can get it!

A welcome sight for hikers low on water after climbing to the pass from the valley below.​

Nestled along the side of the road, each bloom of this Purple Chicory (Cichorium intybus) lasts for only a single day.​

From Cook & Green, it was another 3,000-foot drop to the town of Seiad Valley, where the route turned to pavement for a few miles as it followed the Klamath River downstream.

I hadn't given much thought to fuel along this route. At only 3500 miles, I figured that a full tank and two Scepter Jerry Cans would be plenty - but when presented with the option to take advantage of an unexpected service station, we played it safe and filled up anyway. It was a good thing we did, because as I was watching my life savings transfer out of my wallet and into the gas tank, I got the most amazing voice mail from my uncle...

Somehow I got enough service on the way down the mountain to retrieve the message, but I had no way to return his call.​

I played the message for @mrs.turbodb as we headed west along CA-96, wondering if we might just run into a tan Sportsmobile as we followed the Klamath for the next several miles. Of course, we had no such luck, though we did find a nice shady spot - at Fort Goffs - to pull over and have breakfast.

The Klamath was full, a deluge of snowmelt continuing late into summer from the previous winters' storms.​

The sweet pea blooms were fragrant, making breakfast a sweet-smelling affair.​

As fate would have it, there happened to be a phone booth near the far end of the parking area - actually the Fort Goff campground, though we found no camp sites - and on closer inspection, it was the strangest phone booth we'd ever seen.

"Local calls are free."​

With the same area code as much of rural northern California, I figured a quick call was worth a shot. And you know what - local calls were in fact free!

"Well good morning!"​

Turns out my uncle was several hours east of us, curious to see one of the four dams that are going to be removed from the Klamath over the next several years, restoring it to a more natural state and allowing the fish that once spawned here to slowly return. That meant we wouldn't get to meet up, but it was a fun conversation nonetheless, each of us wishing each other happy trails as we explored the same tiny little slice of the world!

Soon enough we were back underway, the route turning north as it climbed away from the Klamath River and back onto the ridgelines, the smoke from the Flat Fire getting thicker as we headed toward the source.

Looking down on the mighty Klamath, as it winds its way through a remarkably green forest.​

The higher we got, the more evident the smoke at lower elevations became.​

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As @mrs.turbodb's after-breakfast-nap kicked in, Preston Peak loomed large over the remnants of the 500,000-acre Biscuit Fire in summer 2002.​

Working our way along Thompson Ridge, we soon found ourselves driving through a much more recent burn as we approached the former site of the Bolan Mountain Lookout. Here, in 2020, the Slater Fire roared through 166,127 acres, claimed the lives of two firefighters, and injured another 12 people.

Lots of standing dead, these will eventually wreak havoc on the passability of the road.​

It was nearly 1:00pm when we arrived at the locked gate at the bottom of Bolan Mountain. Like the Acorn Woman Peak Lookout we'd found the previous day, the Bolan Mountain Lookout could be rented from the USFS prior to its demise. Today, only the concrete footing survives, and the views are much starker than they once were. Still, we were curious to see the aftermath and a little walking would do us some good. So, having eaten a late breakfast - neither of us were all that hungry - we decided to we'd hike the lookout before heading down to Bolan Lake for lunch.

Like parking in a minefield.​

As we started up the trail, we ran into a couple of botanists, one of which had rented the lookout to propose to his wife many years earlier. She was - apparently - a much faster hiker, and we'd run into her at the top!​

At the top, under cotton ball clouds and surprisingly smoke-free views!​

This survey marker could use a bit of TLC.​

Our jaunt to the lookout a success, we were hot and hungry by the time we returned to the Tacoma and found a spot along the edge of Bolan Lake for lunch. The water turned out to be a bit stagnant - green algae a little too thick for our tastes when it came to swimming - but a shady picnic table was the perfect place to prep and devour a turkey sandwich and a few more of shockingly orange Cheetos, which I submit are covered in addiction powder.

Our lunch spot - a lush pocket in a blackened landscape - captured a few moments earlier as we'd hiked up the mountain.​

I'm not sure how it happened, but even with the early start we'd gotten, we still had more than half of the 150 miles to cover when we pulled away from Bolan lake and headed towards the eastern edge of the Kalmiopsis Wilderness. And so, we did what any good explorers in our situation would do: @mrs.turbodb nodded off for her after-lunch nap, and I tried to refrain from stopping for photos. Naturally, only one of us was successful, and I got some great photos!

The clouds were looking nice as we headed up the well-maintained road (left). | Weathered trunk (right).​

Patches of green on this stretch of trail were few and far between.​

These guys really know how to make a great entrance sign.​

By 4:30pm, we found ourselves at the base of Eight Dollar Mountain - a rather strange name originating from either the nearby discovery of an $8 gold nugget or as the result of a feud between two miners, wherein a bet was made that one of them could not walk around the base of the mountain in a single day. Determined to win the bet, the man purchased an $8 pair of boots before completing the task and winning - you guessed it - $8.

Personal note: Even though he "won," it seems he didn't think that one through fully.

We also found ourselves at the Eight Dollar Mountain Botanical Garden, where a quarter-mile boardwalk would lead us to what was described as one of Oregon's "most unique botanical features, a wetland fen." This was certainly something we were game for, and a few minutes later we were gazing on a field of California Pitcher Plants.

The deadly (to unsuspecting insects) Darlingtonia californica.​

Ultimately - having been exposed to these carnivorous monstrosities throughout most of my childhood in the Plumas National Forest - I found this rather mundane. Mentioning as much as we climbed back into the car and started towards the Kalmiopsis Wilderness, I discovered that, apparently, I was the only one who felt that way.

After crossing a historic steel bridge - on which I can find scant information as to its importance - It took nearly an hour to climb 3,000 feet to a ridge that overlooked the Kalmiopsis Wilderness.

Seems like a pretty normal mint-green bridge to me.​

Overlooking the wilderness. At least, what little of it we could make out through the thickening blanket of smoke.​

Unlike the botanical garden - where our opinions may have differed - neither of us was impressed with the 20-mile roundtrip to a rather mundane view due to the lack of visibility. With it getting late - and with two more hours of driving before we'd reach our planned stopping point - we had a quick discussion about camping here, despite the smoke, since at least the temperatures were a little more reasonable than the were in the lowlands.

And then, we headed down.

I did like this silvery-gray tree that seemed to be bent over looking at its offspring as they've slowly begun to reforest the hillsides.​

Far below, the mint-chip bridge over the Illinois River.​

Our sights now set on Chetco Pass, we followed the Illinois River as it flowed north, then west. We weren't the first to wander this way, the river banks covered in 30-foot tall tailings piles, and sign after sign warning us not to trespass on active claims.

This stretch of road - though only three miles long - was the least pleasant of the entire journey. We were lucky to still have teeth when we reached the end.​

The road to Chetco Pass was described thusly in Oregon Byways:

The road from FR-4103 down to McCaleb Ranch can be an adventure in itself. Winding around a rocky switchback and down to the water's edge, the road crosses a low-water wooden bridge that is inundated when the water is high. McCaleb Ranch, a pioneer settlement now owned by the local Boy Scout Council, occupies the large flat on the far side of the river. If you camp in the vicinity, respect the peace and solitude of the caretakers.

The road to Chetco Pass, straight ahead and uphill, is sometimes gated, though usually not. It is exceptionally steep, with long, precarious drop-offs, and ruts that will swallow your vehicle if you fall into them rather than straddle them. But Chetco Pass is fantastic, with woods, meadows, and serpentinite outcrops.

The gated road beyond the pass leads to some chromite mines inside the Kalmiopsis Wilderness. The road right, up the hill, will take you halfway to the summit of 5,098-foot Pearsoll Peak, highest point in the Kalmiopsis.

Most people hike to the summit from Chetco Pass because the road up from the pass is even worse than the road up from the river.​

Except that we were in a race against the sun, that description seemed fantastic - just the kind of place that we were likely to have to ourselves, and the perfect spot to begin the following day with a hike to the summit of Pearsoll Peak!

We crossed our fingers that the gate to Chetco Pass was open.​

On our way down to the low-water bridge, we passed a swinging footbridge poised high above a seriously inviting swimming hole.​

Luckily for us, the Illinois was not bursting at its banks and we made it across without incident.​

It turned out that the road to Chetco Pass was just as nice as every other well-graded gravel road we'd driven on to this point in the adventure. Sure, there were some drop-offs that were unsurvivable, and the smoky air certainly didn't do our lungs any favors - but there was little-to-no risk that one would venture close enough to the edge for the drop-offs come into play, making the AQI of 214 a much more dangerous risk.

Nosing around one of the narrower spots. Which wasn't narrow at all.​

We reached the pass at 7:48pm, still 45 minutes before sunset, but just as it'd dropped below Pearsoll Peak and the Kalmiopsis Ridge to our west. At 3,641 feet, the smoke - which had been getting worse all day - was thick enough to taste as we deployed the tent and got started on dinner. Surely, I mused, everything we owned would smell like campfire when we returned home, a situation we generally try to avoid.

At the top of the pass, this old pickup was once used by chromium miners working nearby claims.​

Gas-tank-as-seat. Nothing can go wrong.​

At first we thought the light area in the distance was a large lake or possibly even the ocean. Nope, we it was just sky, sandwiched between the Siskiyous and smoke.​

As the light slowly left the sky we both took the opportunity for a quick scrub down using a washcloth, our faces covered in sunscreen and our bodies covered in the smell of 3-days-unshowered-human. I'm not sure it did much good with the smell, but hey, in no time we'd probably smell like chain smokers anyway.

Dancing tree is getting her groove on and doing the wave.​

I have to admit a small bit of disappointment as we climbed up the ladder for our last night on the trail. With the wind blowing from the northwest, it seemed as though every bit of smoke the Flat Fire could muster was headed in our direction.

I only hoped that the following morning - when we set out for Pearsoll Peak - that we'd be able to see something in the direction of the Kalmiopsis Wilderness. Because if not, I wondered if we should just head home...

 

FYI Dan:

 

Yeah. Stay out and stay alive!

How many people die in Death Valley each year in and around the park?

So.... "Death Valley, Stay Out & Stay Alive!" No?

People die going on hikes. Hell, lots of people die in vehicular accidents driving to, or from, whatever activity they chose to do.

I realize there is an element of added danger in entering a mine. I also doubt the government knows how many people enter mines and don't get hurt/killed vs those who do. What I would like to know is what was more dangerous, a person entering the mine or the trip to get there? Post about the danger and leave the falsehoods off the sign.

 

What falsehoods?

Abandoned mines are dangerous and the results could be fatal. Enter if you will but don't say you weren't warned.

 

Speaking of cheetos, have you see the cheetos brand mac and cheese? They even have flaming hot ones but so far I've only tried the original and its pretty spot on

 

Mac and cheese is pretty easy to make and one of the things I’ve seen is the recommendation to crush a small bag of Cheetos and add to your Mac and cheese. Never tried it but it sounded like a great idea.

 

It tastes like you smashed a bag, stirred it into a sause and dumped it on mac

 

The sign says "Hazardous mines will kill you". They changed it from "can" for dramatic effect. That's false, it is can, not will.

 

Two things:

1. EVERYONE SHOULD DEFINITELY STAY OUT OF DEATH VALLEY. I will issue passes for those who I think CAN/WILL survive.
2. Mines are certainly dangerous. Smart people don't go in them, and I recommend being smart. @mrs.turbodb is smart. The older I get, the smarter I was.
3. Meeting up with @mk5 has been a bad influence on my smarterness.

I have a confession to make: I am not a fan of mac and cheese. At least, not the boxed stuff.

I do like homemade macaroni and cheese, you know, the stuff with real cheddar cheese, some red pepper flakes, and equal parts macaroni and cauliflower. Yep, cauliflower. Try it. Healthy(er), and tastes good when slathered in cheese, hahaha.

 

I had a feeling you wouldn't be a box Mac N Cheese kinda guy but an exception might be needed to try the cheetos brand.
I'm not much of a fan of box Mac either but ill go to town on some fancy Mac, specially if it's got a little bread crumb goodness baked on top

 

Reading these, have you ever considered "window tinting" - hear me out, - color is for privacy but the type of tint can reduce the amount of 'heat' into the cab. I have a Nano-Plex Ceramic tinted cab, so windshield and side windows, and esp after doing the windshield noticed a massive reduction in heat into the cab (they claim up to 98% IR reduction and 99.9% UV) which leaves less work for the AC to do. Yes it still gets warm but it is a noticeable difference for sure. For me I tinted the windshield maybe 50% (could be 35%) which I wish I'd gone lighter but I also find I wear sunnies way less when driving - also I dont wear polarised sunnies either. I think I paid a shop @$200 to do the windshield after I had the windshield replaced -

Nanoplex Premium Ceramic Window Tint - Flexfilm

 

I'd second the ceramic tint.

 

I've never seriously considered tinting as I really like to be able to see clearly out of the cab. Of course, the sunroof (which I never wanted in the first place when I ordered the truck) is a big culprit as well (though it's heavily tinted, thank goodness). Maybe I'll look into the tint though, at a very reduced level...every little bit helps, I suppose.

On this particular trip to the UTBDR, the biggest problem was really just the temperature outside - it was triple digits, and miserable to get out and hike around in. In the 80s, the truck cab actually felt chilly, which was really nice. Still, always better to use less A/C if possible.

Thanks guys!