by Lacy Turner

My introduction to Oregon’s desert country, like all of my best-loved wildernesses

in the state, came from my best hiking friend Rodney. I moved to Portland from Sedona, Arizona and complained for years about being a cactus stuck in mushroom land, until Rodney had

finally had enough. On my birthday in 1993 he showed up at my door with a BLM map (The Burns District South Half), a newsletter from the Oregon Natural Desert Association (ONDA)and a card on which was written: Get the hell out to Oregon’s high desert and stop complaining about being stuck in this amazing state!

The Burns District South Half was reduced to tatters the remainder of the ‘90s visiting Steens Mountain, the Alvord Desert, Malheur and Hart Mountain. I hiked on sagebrush-crowded paths, scrambled up dry ridges and found my real Oregon home in the balance of east and west, desert and forest. I met plenty of other Mazamas on ONDA volunteer trips to remove obsolete barbed wire out of Steens and Hart Mountains. (Rodney had also shown up at

my door with an application card for the Mazamas.) In 2000 I drove as far southeast as one can in Oregon to the Owyhee Canyonlands, and fell in love at first hike.

My Owyhee reconnaissance began at Three Forks, where the North and Middle Forks of the Owyhee join the main river in a deep, complicated canyon. That first hike I fell for was a rugged slog up Middle Fork’s narrow canyon wherein I waded deep pools with my daypack held up over my head. I had signed on with a group

from the Northern Rockies (Idaho) Sierra Club. They took me river-walking up the North Fork’s streambed and on the classic Three Forks hike: an old wagon route along the river to hot springs pools surrounded by waterfalls. Sitting in a hot springs pool high above the Owyhee River I learned that “Owyhee” was a 19th-century spelling for Hawaii. The river was named when three Hawaiians, hired by the Hudson’s Bay

Company as beaver trappers, were killed near the river by Indians.

Three Forks is one of the most remote places in Oregon, in “ION” country, where Idaho, Oregon and Nevada converge. The Owyhee desert ecosystem covers almost 9 million acres across three states, a region so vast and isolated that it’s called the American Outback. Rafters love the Owyhee for its Wild and Scenic River designation and famous rapids. Forks of the Owyhee form a far-reaching network of

deep canyons carved into ancient lava flows. The area is filled with arches and hoodoos, sagebrush deserts and juniper-dotted mountains, and I wanted to explore as much of it as I could on foot.

Rodney traveled to the Owyhee with me once, to Three Forks, on what he called the “Saved by the Sheep Trip.” Over a long weekend in June we dealt with rattlesnakes; a tire blowout and a

flat; and poison oak that plagued Rodney for six months. Starting home, we saw three Bighorn sheep, still as statues, at the crest of Three Forks Road. (He still turns down my yearly invitations to visit the Honeycombs of the lower Owyhee.)

When ONDA’s Owyhee Coordinator, Chris Hansen, posted the Honeycombs Wilderness study Area volunteer outing for June 2013 and let it be known that our

Owyhee Canyonlands: A Love Affair

8 —Mazama Bulletin

work would be hiking and scrambling, the goal therein to “fall in love” with the area, I jumped on it. The dry canyons between the Owyhee Reservoir and Three Fingers Gulch had been on my short list for years, the sort of rugged trail-free hiking that I enjoy the most but would never take on alone. I would finally get to the Honeycombs formations, where over millions of years soft spots in volcanic rock had weathered into holes and niches in gulches lined with color-changing cliffs. Painted Canyon, I just knew, would be the highlight of the trip. We camped at Succor Creek State

Natural Area in a menagerie of hikers, rock hounds and ATVs, but we were off all day to deep secluded canyons where no motors were allowed. Our first hike, down Carleton Canyon to the confluence of Painted Canyon and back up, was a scrambler's delight. We slid down dry waterfalls, edged into cliffs and did hand to hand climbing. The canyon bottoms were a maze of six-foot tall sagebrush and gigantic boulders. The play of clouds turned the towering formations orange, purple, red and kept the “honeycomb” cavities in stark relief. A rain shower turned the jeep track into custard and the slippery drive back to camp was, as Chris had promised, “an adventure in itself.”

That night back at camp we hatched a new plan: start out late morning the next day and hike into the night. It was the

weekend of the Supermoon, the largest moon of year. We’d climb up Juniper Gulch in the heat, cool off in the Owyhee Reservoir, picnic at dusk and head into Timber Gulch after dark for the big moon.

Real gravel roads led us to Leslie Gulch, where 15-million years ago a volcano blasted out a basin that filled with volcanic ash. The ash hardened to rock and flash floods chiseled narrow ravines with colorful cliffs, which for hikers means that Leslie Gulch is a canyon offering five interesting side canyons. One of them, Juniper Gulch, has an actual mile of trail. We took it past enormous overhanging cliffs to its terminus at a monumental slab of honeycombed rock; then climbed out the top of Juniper Gulch to a high plateau view of Steens Mountain on the far horizon. I had read that Timber is the most beautiful gulch of the four and I would undoubtedly concur had I not hiked it at night.

It is amazing how quiet ten people can be in a creek bed in the dark, all stepping where the leader has put his feet, climbing up walls where sagebrush claimed the ground, each pair of eyes on the boot heels in the headlamp’s beam. We followed Chris left past a huge black barrier (a 200-foot rock wall, he told us) to canyon’s end in an amphitheater (so he said) where we settled back on the ground to watch the stars come on. Moon beams on the walls in front of us stole the show; they

crept up from the ground and played on ridge tops, lit up cliffs of wild pinnacles and then a path to the big yellow projector itself above the rim. We stayed into the chill and finally, almost noiselessly, hiked out.

The Saturday night revelers had long gone to bed when we rolled into Succor Creek campground, the boom box down south was tucked in for the night. It was so quiet I could hear moon-addled swallows swoop over the creek. I heated milk and pulled my chair down to the water. What a night! It was one of those serendipitous wilderness surprises, not even on my radar until I am smack in the middle of it, like the three Bighorn sheep. The most amazing part of the trip was the least expected. I found the balm of desert solitude with ten other people in a narrow canyon in the middle of the night.

Resources with better factoids:The Oregon Natural Desert

Association’s new Wild Owyhee website is online—wildowyhee.org, click “Getting There” for directions and maps.

ONDA’s online guide to the 800-mile Oregon Desert Trail includes maps, GPS

From left to right: Juniper Gulch, Leslie Gulch Wilderness Study Area. Mazama Barb Engel in Carlton Canyon. Formations in Painted Canyon.

Hiking above Juniper Gulch. Photos: Lacy Turner

continued on next page

May/2014—9

With lighter snow fall this year than in the past we have moved up our spring work party to Saturday, May 31. At the current rate of snow melting you can expect summer driving access to the lodge to begin before the end of May. The work party is scheduled from 9 a.m.–3 p.m. Enjoy a complimentary lunch after an honest day`s work. Volunteers are welcome to come up the night before for a free night`s stay with meals or just come Saturday and receive a coupon to come at a later date. As usual we will be getting wood split and stacked with our new hydraulic splitter!

The Lost Lake Chuckwagon Weekend is July 25–27. Hike Leader Rick Amodeo will be leading this year`s hike from Timberline Lodge to Lost Lake with an overnight stay at Lost Creek Campground with a Grilled Steak Dinner or a Vegetarian option of Grilled Mushrooms. For more information see page 17. You can also reach Rick at ricka@aaieng.com.

May is our slowest month at the lodge. During a typical weekend we host fewer than a dozen guests ... so if you are looking a little solitude, this is the month to visit.

Lodge Manager: Charles Barker; Caretaker: Amanda Richards 503-272-9214, mazama.lodge@mazamas.org

News

tracks and waypoints, and town information for the 213-mile section of the trail in the Owyhee Canyonlands: onda.org.

The Oregon Chapter of the Sierra Club features Owyhee information; check out their High Desert Committee’s outings: oregon.sierraclub.org/conserv/hidsrt/outings.asp

William L. Sullivan’s Owyhee hikes in 100 Hikes/Travel Guide: Eastern Oregon (Leslie Gulch, Coffee Pot Crater and Three Forks) and chapters in Exploring Oregon’s Wild Areas (Upper Owyhee River and Lower Owyhee River) provide a general overview for those of us who like to mark up real books.

The BLM offers GPS coordinates and a wealth of maps as part of their Owyhee Canyonlands Wilderness and Wild and Scenic Rivers plan and assessment. (Allow me to echo a line from the Wild Owyhee website: "The time to permanently protect the Owyhee Canyonlands is now.")

Driving conditions can be challenging in the Owyhee; a full-size spare tire, towing straps and board for your jack are strongly suggested.

I carry water-hiking shoes and an extra pair of hiking boots, snake-bite and first aid kits, use my hiking poles rather than a “snake stick” and keep a 5-gallon container of water in the car. The Owyhee Canyonlands are a scenic wonder year round, but May, June and late September into October are best for decent weather and passable roads.

Anyone for night time foray in a canyon off Lesley Gulch Road?

Top: BCEP students do their snow practice inside the warm lodge.

Bottom: Guest speaker Jon Bell and family enjoy breakfast with their family dog Bruno.

Photos: Charles Barker

Owyhee Love Affair,

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10 —Mazama Bulletin