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| Our entire packs for four days on the trail |
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| Morrison's Rogue River Lodge |
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| Adirondacks at Morrison's Rogue River Lodge |
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| Our crazy group |
John had me believing we would not make it back in one piece, that we'd become bear bait, that we'd die on the trail. Hours before we started, I wondered, what did I get us into?
Packs contained only what could be carried on our backs. Clothing was minimal--an evening outfit and after the first nine hours--a stinky daytime one. Lots of water. Minimal toiletries.
In reality, we'd be living it up because at the end of each hiking day, we planned to spend the night in a different rustic lodge along our route. The lodge personnel cooked dinner, breakfast, and packed everyone a hearty lunch in the morning.
The day before the big hike began, our group of ten headed south on I-5. First stop: Morrison's Rogue River Lodge, in Merlin, Oregon. We stayed there for two reasons: vehicles could be parked for the duration of our hike and staff promised transportation to the trailhead. Morrison's location is right on the river and has abundant outdoor seating, birdhouses with lots of birds, and a setting so pretty I pinched myself to make sure I wasn't dreaming.
I have to admit, when the big, white van dropped us in the parking lot and drove away, my heart beat a little faster. Was John right? I worried. Was this it? But within the first uphill mile, I knew we'd be fine.
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| First moments on the trail |
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| Me...the Rogue in the background |
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| Walking the path along the Rogue |
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| Sign to first lodge |
It was close to ninety degrees and although I froze the water I intended to drink (I like my aqua ice cold) it didn't melt as quickly as I thought it would.
The trail
wove up and down, up and down,
along steep drop-offs, with impressive river views. When we came upon the sign for Black Bar Lodge, we figured it was all down hill from there. And it was. On a steep, rocky, goat-like trail. Black Bar was located on the other side of the river, but the acoustics in the area were amazing. Adam heard us coming and started rowing across the river to pick members of our group up and row them to the other side of the river where a lodge made from logs nestled into a grove of thick fir. Only two or three persons could go at a time. So Adam rowed back and forth until our entire group stood on the south shore of the river.
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| View of the river in front of Black Bar Lodge |
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| Adam rowed us across the river to get to Black Bar Lodge |
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| Black Bar Lodge |
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| Scenery at Black Bar Lodge |
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| Our private cabin at Black Bar |
Black Bar staff welcomed us with gallons of ice tea, lemonade, and fresh-baked oatmeal cookies.
About ten cabins nestle near the tree line providing a private setting for each couple. The interiors were sparse, the beds lumpy, the shower water: good and hot. We were so exhausted, the accommodations felt like a luxury suite at the Hilton.
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| Interior of Black Bar Lodge where we dined and socialized |
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| The scenery along the river changed |
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| Rogue River rafters going over the rapids |
Inside the main lodge, dinner--fried chicken, mashed potatoes, homemade rolls, fresh green beans--was served family-style. All meals were included in the price of the lodging.
We relaxed on the front lawn in front of the lodge and watched a deer graze--unconcerned-- within a few feet of us.
The generator stopped at 10:00 p.m. sharp--only light after that, flashlights carried in our day packs. But light was not a problem. Everyone was tired; we all headed for bed.
The next morning, after a hearty breakfast, Adam rowed everyone over to the north side of the river (in small groups), and we hiked up the steep, rocky goat-like trail, and headed west. Terrains varied during this 14.8 mile day: meadows, river views, and lush forests with leafy ferns. The path crossed over many wooden bridges (snow melt gurgled underneath) before we reached our second lodge: Marial Lodge.
For some reason, the (almost) 15 mile day didn't seem as long as the first day (only 10 miles). Maybe we were adjusting to the trail, maybe we had a better water supply, maybe any apprehension we'd felt had faded. We probably wouldn't ever do this hike again, so I treasured every step, every view.
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| One of the twenty or so bridges along the forty mile hike |
The owner of Marial Lodge directed us to our private rooms that resembled Motel 6 accommodations. Clean, simple decorations, tidy bathrooms. Marial had a honor bar (pay for drinks from the fridge as you go). Beer and soda were fully stocked and taken advantage of by every thirsty hiker. I guzzled a cold beer, then switched to my favorite beverage: diet cola. Dinner was served family style again--all homemade and hearty portions.
The lodges cater to both hikers and rafters. Normally, the lodges would be completely full and we'd share the place with rafting outfitters and their patrons. But our group lucked out, we were the only people at every single lodge so we had extra special treatment (except at Clay Hill Lodge--which I will discuss later).
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| Hummingbirds at the Marial Lodge--on their deck |
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| Waterfalls on the on the south side of the river |
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| Another lodge along the Rogue River |
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| Sign on the tree at Paradise Lodge |
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| Meadow near Paradise Lodge |
The scenery and views surrounding Paradise were peaceful; the beauty indescribable--it took your breath away.
Cows chewed cud in a field, thick forests protected the property, wild flowers rustled in a soft breeze.
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Cows in meadow near Paradise Lodge
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| Clay Hill Lodge signage |
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| King snake that surprised me on the path |
We arrived at Clay Hill Lodge in early afternoon. The owner wasn't ready for us. I'm not including a link for this lodge because I wouldn't recommend it. For several reasons. I realize our group arrived a head of schedule, but we were content to sit on the deck, drink, chat, and enjoy the river views.
However, this owner acted stressed out at our early arrival, his words short, cutting off our questions. Some questions were ignored. I asked if there were any reading material or games at the lodge. He curtly answered, "No." Later, I happened upon a bookcase in the hikers area with plenty of loaner books.
But we stayed out of his way for the two hours until the official check-in time. When it was time to be assigned rooms, he lead two couples to an area where they'd have to share a bath. Our reservations were for rooms with private baths. The only occupants of this place were the members of our group. There were unused rooms, with unused private baths. Three couples asked about relocating but the owner was adamant, "Can't be done." The food (compared to the other two lodges) was disappointing.
This was the only lodge where we had a black bear sighting. The sun was setting when I suddenly noticed movement in the bushes on the hillside. Out ran a small bear, heading for the river. He disappeared into shrubery. Thirty minutes later, he hightailed it from the brush, bounded up the hill, and disappeared into the forest. That was the extent of our bear sighting. I was giddy.
Once home, we reviewed our reservation documents and found that we had been mis-assigned rooms. We'd paid for ones with private baths. One hiker wrote about this and the mediocre meal (for the price paid at this lodge compared to the other ones on the Rogue). No response. Therefore, we would never return to this lodge in the future. We initially picked it because it had been featured on a national TV show. But it certainly did not meet our expectations.
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| View of the river from Clay Hill balcony |
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| Linda and John on the last section of trail |
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| Last days trail: lush |
Sunshine heated the trail the first three days. The last day we woke to gray skies, and hoped the rain would hold off until we'd finished all forty miles. But that was not to be. An hour into the morning, sprinkles brushed our cheeks. A steady downpour soon drenched our clothes. Water ran down my pant legs, into my shoes. Every step made a squishy sound. The Rogue River trail had poison oak throughout, (lots of warnings on-line about this). On the last day, foliage heavy with rain, draped across the trail. We wore the zip-on pant legs (the kind that turn shorts into long pants) on this day to prevent the irritating oil from getting on our skin. If anyone experienced an outbreak, it was minor. Several hikers carried poison ivy wash--just in case. The rain did not dampen our opinion of this adventure. John turned out to be the most vocal about his experience.
"Great experience!" he said. "A real feeling of accomplishment."
