Union Creek

Another Shainadventure is in the books! On Friday (July 24th), I drove 99 miles west into Chinook Pass with my sights set on a well-researched portion of the Pacific Crest Trail. In the car, when I was a scant three miles from the top of Chinook Pass, I drove into a cloud. It wasn't a fluffy white happy cloud; it was an ominous dark gray cloud that completely covered the road and the sweeping panoramic vistas that characterize Chinook Pass. When I jumped out of the car to use the vault toilet at the trail parking area, it was forty degrees, windy, wet, and dark. 

It was decision time. Did I want to have a cold, wet, possibly stormy/slick trail run with all big mountain views hidden in mist? Or did I want to turn back and drive a couple miles to one of many other unknown, un-researched trailheads lower down out of the cloud? After agonizing for a while, I reluctantly turned around and drove back the way I came until I saw a likely looking trail sign for Union Creek Trail. 

Union Creek Falls, a quarter of a mile down the trail.

Almost to the top of Chinook Pass-- that cloud to the right didn't look too bad yet.

At first the cloud was benign and white. Over that stone guard rail on the left is a steep dropoff and a beautiful view which was invisible through the thick cloud.

Ten seconds later, the cloud/mist was gray and thick. I knew enough about the Cascades to understand that this thick junk could just as easily dissipate in half an hour as it could linger all day long. There was also the tantalizing possibility that a ways up the trail, I could rise above the dense cloud and enjoy an amazing view. All of these possibilities plagued me while I sat indecisively in my warm car.

The parking area and trailhead. There would not be much visibility on the trail. Turning back was the right decision. I didn't have my running jacket with me, and I was also a lone runner without a buddy. This could be just a cloud, or it could be a mountain storm. Those annoying safety factors encouraged me to turn back.

The Union Creek Trailhead had zero information at the kiosk--not even a map. I was running into the wilderness without any clue what to expect! I wondered if that was worse than running into a dark gray cloud. Thankfully, the trail ended up being lovely, swooping past the first of four waterfalls before climbing steeply up to a rolling trail through the forest. I nearly lost the trail twice as it dipped into enormous washouts, but with some reconnaissance and climbing, I was able to pick up the trail on the other side of both large gullies. 

After a creek crossing, I entered an eerie burned out forest full of blackened trees. Later, during some post-run trail research, I learned that this area was burned during the 2017 wildfires. This was the most recent burn zone I had ever traversed. It was otherworldly, with the black bark peeling away from the trunks in long curls, revealing the light brown underbelly of the dead trees. White ash mixed with the fine dust on the forest floor, lending a black and white starkness to the already discolored area. Some sections had greenery growing up through the scorched earth, creating an aura of hope amidst the destruction. The sun peeked out regularly as the sky became bluer, and wow. Sunlight in a burned out wasteland is transformative. I battled with appropriate metaphors for the rest of the run.  

After a mile or so in the burned forest, the trail entered a green zone again. It was so green and brushy, in fact, that the trail disappeared in some undergrowth around mile four. I decided against bushwhacking through in my shorts to find the trail. Since I hadn't been able to do any pre-run research, I didn't even know if the trail continued beyond that point. Instead I turned back.

At a creek crossing, a friendly hiker told me that there was a third waterfall around the bend in the creek, so I climbed around to check it out. Beautiful! He also informed me that the trail did indeed continue past the point where I turned around. In fact, it eventually connected up to the Pacific Crest Trail. The same hiker's wife informed me that a fourth waterfall was visible if I wanted to scramble up a 20 foot rock. I declined that offer, blaming my unprotected legs. Running shorts are good for running, but not rock climbing. The scabs from my last fall were still visible. No need to reopen those wounds. 

The trail back to the parking area was pleasant. The sun came out fully and lit the forest in a golden glow, causing me to reflect again on the power of light. The necessity of the sun. The change that happens when the sun shines its light. In the burned forest, the regrowth will take decades, but it has already begun. Mother Nature is breathtakingly resilient. And patient. All of these thoughts sank into my soul and resonated with symbolism. 

To think I almost passed this trail by...

 

Union Creek

This was a fun bridge.

Looking back at the hewn log one-sided railing bridge.

The lower falls, coming into view. I had to go up and around to get a closer look.

Pictures always reduce big sights to small boxes. This was a 50-foot waterfall! (I looked it up later because I'm inaccurate at estimating heights)

Attempting to put the waterfall in perspective, and failing. 

Downstream.

One more attempt to show the size of the falls.

One last look before heading out on the trail. It was weird to come to such a nice viewpoint after only a quarter mile of trail. It felt like cheating. I had energy to burn! 

Thankfully this section of scree was short-lived.

This tree was enormous! And burned black.

Beginnings of wildfire marks.

Dead trees, but not much black.

The first washout. My post-run research taught me that when the wildfire killed all vegetation, the soil became unstable and caused these washouts. Formidable. The sides were as tall as me.

I poked around the washout area for a while, searching for the other side of the trail. It wasn't down by the creek. I took this picture in case this was the turnaround point. Thankfully, it wasn't, and I found the trail a ways up the loose rocky washout.

Death.

Life--I love those purple flowers.

The second waterfall plunged 100 feet down. This was the best view of it I found, as the trail wound away from it after this point.

This boulder caught between two trees wowed me. Trees don't always win against falling boulders, but these two did!

An adequate creek crossing, right around the bend from the third waterfall, which I didn't know about until the return journey.

Hello eerie burnt forest! My jaw kept dropping over and over at this PLACE!

What a sight this must've been 3 years ago when it was burning!

The curls of peeled black bark at the base of the tree were so interesting. Even though the trees died in the fire, only their outside layer of bark was burned black.

Seriously, this place!

More bark

I made use of a handy black log for a time-and-run picture. Having a human in the picture really helps with perspective. That ash-dust combo looked like snow! It was in the 60s by the end of my run. I wore long sleeves and loved the secure feeling of sun protection, and thankfully my merino wool shirt regulated my temperature enough that I didn't swelter. I did sweat a ton and drank a liter of water in 3 hours.

I find it exhilarating that some of the first life after a fire is floral. Extra beauty among the ashes.

The forest became gradually greener again.

This is where the trail petered out. It's right there in the middle of the green, but I didn't want to forge into those thigh-high weeds to see if it was clearer on the other side.

Heading back: SUNLIGHT and green carpet.

Hydrate! Running through this ashy dry burned forest made me extra thirsty.

Even without the grassy green carpet, the sunlight changed the look of the dead forest.

I found the third waterfall! It's 35 feet tall. The sun lit it up for me. The splashing water misted my face and legs in a refreshing spray. The day wasn't quite warm enough for me to want to stick my feet in the icy water, though.

Scale shot. It's always a trick balancing my phone, setting the camera timer and getting into position in just ten seconds, especially over uncertain terrain. 

The sun was out for good on the way back. Everything looked different.

Near the parking lot, I climbed down to the first waterfall again to see how it looked in sunlight.

Traditional trailhead headshot.