Oregon: The Ochocos

After Smith Rock, we decided to test our legs with an overnight backpacking trip in the Ochoco Mountains to the east of Bend, past Prineville. Most Oregonians don't know about the Ochocos, but I had discovered them many years ago on a road trip with Matt Arsenault and Jason Chaytor and have always wanted to return. These mountains are as close to the geographical center of Oregon as you can get, and unlike the Cascades to the west or the Wallowas in the east, none of their peaks are over 6000', which meant they were snow free for us to enjoy. And as we soon found out,they in full spring glory packed with wild flowers.



We chose the Black River Canyon Hike, a simple out and back along the the Black River, a tributary to the John Day River. Our hiking book described this hike as "...wonderful, as long as you don't mind getting your feet wet." This turned out to be an accurate description as the trail fords many small streams and rivulets, some of which were crossable via fallen trees and rock hopping, but none had any sort of constructed bridge. So we found ourselves hiking most of the 11 miles down the trail in our sandals, and with the 90 degree heat, this turned out to be a blessing.

 
The first six miles of the hike led us down through a recent burn (2005) that littered the hillsides with standing, dead poderosa pines, their white skeletons charred with black burn scars. But once we got down into the river bottom, the landscape filled in with maples, alders and tall, mature pines. We set up camp at around eight miles and decided to take advantage of the abundant daylight and explore more of the canyon.

 
Freed from our heavy packs, we hiked easily along the trail as it rolled its way down stream. Crossing side creeks along the way, the Black River was rarely in view, being covered by abundant shrubs and small trees. But we could always hear the river's churning and gurgling as it plunged its way between the canyon walls. After hiking for only thirty minutes or so, the forest opened up and gave way to grasslands that stretched up both sides of the canyon. We were definitely on the dry-side of the mountains now and the afternoon sun was heating the air all around us. Thank God for those creeks - a quick splash in the water invigorated us and kept our legs pumping. The canyon narrowed through basalt cliffs and the trail moved closer to the river, crossing it several times in a back and forth meandering between the ever encroaching canyon walls. The red and black basalt rims appeared as stone-faced sentinels outlined by the blue sky behind them. It was breath-taking,  but it was also getting late and we had traveled another six miles from camp without realizing it. So with stomachs grumbling we made our way back to camp for some dinner and a card game before retiring for the night in the comfort of our down sleeping bags.

On the hike we had some great wildlife encounters, including a black bear which we startled a the trailhead at the beginning of the hike. It was about 100 yards from us and bolted out of the brush as soon as it heard our footsteps. Thankfully it ran away from us, galloping through the forest like a wild horse. We heard (and thankfully didn't encounter) several rattle snakes, their marquis alarm telling us not to bother their mid-day rest. And we crossed paths with a skunk, who made no qualms about showing us his tail, indicating - without any argument from us - who really had the right of way in the backcountry.