Sawmill Falls, Opal Creek, and Jawbone Flats (hike 6 of the 33)
It was supposed to be a 4 mile round trip hike. We were only going to Sawmill Falls. That was all I meant for us to do. I knew A was not keen on long or strenuous hikes and I wanted to respect that. Otherwise he might skip hiking with me altogether and that would be less fun. So we only meant go to the falls and come back. But somehow in scanning over the directions I missed a few key bits of information. In the end, our four mile hike became a 7.1 mile hike.
We parked at the gate near the end of the gravel road, put on an extra layer of clothing that the cooler weather now requires, and started down the wide dusty trail. I kept expecting it to branch off onto a smaller more typical forest trail, but not emerged. Steadily we climbed up. The incline was not so strenuous as to require us to stop for breaks, yet there were no real disruption from the calf burning slant to the road.
The remains of the old mill littered the side of the trail. We scouted them out and followed the sound of rushing water down to the waterfall. There was no sign, but we follow a small path through some bushes. A found his way out to a rocky outcropping and his dog eagerly followed him. I on the other hand, stayed away from the wet rocks enjoying the view from a safe distance. I've noticed a pattern here. He'll stand out on the edge, even hang from the side of a cliff to take in a view or capture a picture, while I take a step back for every inch I think he's gone too far. I've sometimes wondered if I'm not taking enough chances, if I'm missing something by being afraid of the edges. But then, I'm still getting out there, enjoying the view, finding new places to explore. Sure, I once missed the view of a waterfall for not hanging over the edge of a cliff, but if I had fallen off, it would have been my last.
Back to our hike. After a quite break for each of us to ponder the waterfall, nature, and anything else that flitted across our minds we decided to continue on. This is where I misread the directions. I thought that we could cross the foot bridge and loop back to the car. Well we did, but it didn't return back to the car. Rather it continued along the creek further up into the canyon. We enjoyed the ferns by the trail side and the more trail-like path to walk upon, so we didn't comment on how the trail never veered back in the other direction.
We took a break to enjoyed some sunshine on rocks in the creek. I wiggled my toes in my new hiking boots, thankful to have them on. A stretched out on a smoothed exposed rock in the middle of the creek while I sat on a large rock near the edge. It was starting to sink in that the trail was not doubling back, that either we would have to turn back or continue on for the entire loop. The warmth of the sun and the rush of the creek relaxed us and the concern flowed away.
Back on the trail, the sun was fading behind the trees and the canyon slopes. The air felt crisp. We passed several cleared spaces for back packers and I thought it would be nice to stop and camp for the evening. But the idea of packing in all of our gear made me glad to just be passing through. Soon my hip right hip began to ache. I was shivering. A started looking down at the creek for a place where we might safely cross to the other side and regain the wide road. We saw a building on the other side and figured it must be part of the village of Jawbone Flats. It meant that the bridge must be close, but I still had no idea how much further. A wanted to continue and I to turn back. He figured that we would make much better time on the other side with the wider road. So we pressed on.
Not but ten minutes further up the path the Opal Creek bridge appeared and we slowly started on back through the remnants of the old mining town. We stopped at a shelter to rest a bit, but the cool air and an eagerness to keep moving encouraged me to persuade A to get going again. It all seemed deserted. There was even a row of useless rusting cars. But then we walked into a clearing of cabins and a few people. I no longer felt like I'd survived the apocalypse. The trip back down to the car passed quickly, though my leg muscles began to ache with the steady downhill trudge.
Reflecting back the hike wasn't bad, but we did start out too late to hike it comfortably. I'd like to do it again on a warm summer day and take time to relish splashing around in the beautiful clear water.
We parked at the gate near the end of the gravel road, put on an extra layer of clothing that the cooler weather now requires, and started down the wide dusty trail. I kept expecting it to branch off onto a smaller more typical forest trail, but not emerged. Steadily we climbed up. The incline was not so strenuous as to require us to stop for breaks, yet there were no real disruption from the calf burning slant to the road.
The remains of the old mill littered the side of the trail. We scouted them out and followed the sound of rushing water down to the waterfall. There was no sign, but we follow a small path through some bushes. A found his way out to a rocky outcropping and his dog eagerly followed him. I on the other hand, stayed away from the wet rocks enjoying the view from a safe distance. I've noticed a pattern here. He'll stand out on the edge, even hang from the side of a cliff to take in a view or capture a picture, while I take a step back for every inch I think he's gone too far. I've sometimes wondered if I'm not taking enough chances, if I'm missing something by being afraid of the edges. But then, I'm still getting out there, enjoying the view, finding new places to explore. Sure, I once missed the view of a waterfall for not hanging over the edge of a cliff, but if I had fallen off, it would have been my last.
Back to our hike. After a quite break for each of us to ponder the waterfall, nature, and anything else that flitted across our minds we decided to continue on. This is where I misread the directions. I thought that we could cross the foot bridge and loop back to the car. Well we did, but it didn't return back to the car. Rather it continued along the creek further up into the canyon. We enjoyed the ferns by the trail side and the more trail-like path to walk upon, so we didn't comment on how the trail never veered back in the other direction.
We took a break to enjoyed some sunshine on rocks in the creek. I wiggled my toes in my new hiking boots, thankful to have them on. A stretched out on a smoothed exposed rock in the middle of the creek while I sat on a large rock near the edge. It was starting to sink in that the trail was not doubling back, that either we would have to turn back or continue on for the entire loop. The warmth of the sun and the rush of the creek relaxed us and the concern flowed away.
Back on the trail, the sun was fading behind the trees and the canyon slopes. The air felt crisp. We passed several cleared spaces for back packers and I thought it would be nice to stop and camp for the evening. But the idea of packing in all of our gear made me glad to just be passing through. Soon my hip right hip began to ache. I was shivering. A started looking down at the creek for a place where we might safely cross to the other side and regain the wide road. We saw a building on the other side and figured it must be part of the village of Jawbone Flats. It meant that the bridge must be close, but I still had no idea how much further. A wanted to continue and I to turn back. He figured that we would make much better time on the other side with the wider road. So we pressed on.Not but ten minutes further up the path the Opal Creek bridge appeared and we slowly started on back through the remnants of the old mining town. We stopped at a shelter to rest a bit, but the cool air and an eagerness to keep moving encouraged me to persuade A to get going again. It all seemed deserted. There was even a row of useless rusting cars. But then we walked into a clearing of cabins and a few people. I no longer felt like I'd survived the apocalypse. The trip back down to the car passed quickly, though my leg muscles began to ache with the steady downhill trudge.
Reflecting back the hike wasn't bad, but we did start out too late to hike it comfortably. I'd like to do it again on a warm summer day and take time to relish splashing around in the beautiful clear water.
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