Swimming in the Upper Rogue

    As I said in last week's post about backpacking on the Upper Rogue River, Cheryl, Janet, and I were walking hard on the last day to walk the twelve miles back to the trailhead in time for dinner at the Prospect Hotel, so we set a faster-than-normal pace. Nonetheless, when we got to the only place on the river that looked possible for a swim, we stopped there. 

    The river was wide, and the current looked slow, but I don't trust rivers. Besides, the bank dropped so steeply into the river I didn't think I could safely get in. And if I got in, how would I ever get out?

    Janet thought she could do it. Holding onto the branch of a riverside bush, she carefully lowered herself into the water. Then lower. And lower. She sank up to her chest before her feet touched a strong root growing out of the bank, where she stood for a split second before letting go of the branch. Then she was swimming downriver with the current. Shortly she turned and swam easily back. Holding onto the branch, she pulled herself out. She was exhilarated.

    That looked wonderful! If she did it, I thought, I could do it, too. Cheryl and Janet assured me they could help me get out, so, holding onto the branch, I lowered myself into the river. But Janet is taller than I, and I sank to my neck before my foot touched the root. Then I let go and swam downriver.

    It was a great swim. Cold, yes, with a gentle current and an easy return next to the bank, where the current was slower. I thought about swimming down and back up again, but the cold was beginning to pound at the back of my neck, so I thought I should get out.

    Not so easy. The bank fell perpendicularly deep into the river. Even standing on the root and holding onto the branch, I couldn't scramble out, as Janet had done, so Cheryl grabbed one arm and Janet the other, and, as I scrambled for a footing in the slippery grass, they hauled me ashore. 

    Worth every moment. I'd do it again with the same help.

    

Backpacking the Upper Rogue River Trail

    Few people backpack the Upper Rogue River trail because it is so easy to day-hike it in sections. I have hiked River Bridge to Woodruff Bridge and Woodruff Bridge to Natural Bridge many times. But when Cheryl, Janet, and I were on our way for a four-day backpacking trip in the Sky Lakes Wilderness Area last week, we stopped in Prospect to check on air quality and were told there was a fire in that area, just where we were planning to hike, so we just shifted plans. We would hike the nearby Upper Rogue instead.

                                                (All photos by Cheryl Bruner)

    Starting at River Bridge, we decided, we would go as far as we wanted, then find a place to camp, do the same the next day, and repeat for the two days back. Pretty simple.

    We left my car at River Bridge Campground and hiked five miles the first day, from the trailhead past the Baptist Church Camp, where Cheryl's family used to have family reunions, through the beautiful Takelma Gorge, then across the road at Woodruff Bridge and onto the next section of the trail, where we found a sandy flat on the river for our first night's camp. After dinner I recited Robert Frost's "The Death of the Hired Man" while Janet danced an extemporaneous interpretation of it, the river dancing its own rhythm behind her.

    That was the first five miles.

    The next day we hiked past a spectacular waterfall just before the Natural Bridge section of the trail. We stopped for lunch at a bench facing the lava cave, where the river famously disappears for a short distance. Three women with backpacks are an unusual sight on this popular section of the trail. Asked by curious tourists how far we were going, we said, "As far as we want."

    Once past the paved parts of the trail at the lava cave, I was in new territory. The trail began ascending steeply, through big trees and masses of viney maples just beginning to turn red.

The river, far below the trail, was mostly out of sight. The hiking was more difficult than it had been the day before, steeper, up and down, with several stream crossings. By the time we had hiked a seven-mile day and found a flat, sandy spot next to the river, we were ready to make camp. Before dinner, Janet and I took cold-plunge baths at the river's edge, holding on to willow branches to stay in the cup where the river lapped the shore.

    We woke up to an overcast sky. Rain was predicted for that night. We could avoid camping in the rain, we told ourselves, by hiking out the entire twelve miles. And if we did that and got back to the car in time, we further encouraged ourselves, we could have dinner at the Prospect Historic Hotel.

    Motivated, we hit the trail at a pretty fast pace. In spite of the press of time, though, we stopped at one of the few places on the trail where the river looked suitable for a swim, and Janet and I both swam. (More about that in the next post.) We had lunch at the same bench near the lava cave where we had eaten the day before, then put our packs back on our backs and headed down the trail again.

    At this point Cheryl took over the lead position and set an insane pace. Even moving at a faster clip than I normally would and ignoring my aching feet, I couldn't keep up. Jane, hiking behind me. distracted me from weariness and the difficult, rocky trail by telling me the trees were glad to see me again. 

    Twelve miles, and we were back at the trailhead, before 6:00, gratefully throwing our packs into my car and looking forward to dinner at the Prospect Hotel. First, though, I changed into the dress I had left in the car. Then, looking much fresher than I actually was, I drove us to the Prospect Hotel, where we toasted our adventure with a glass of wine and had a very good salmon dinner. Afterward, Cheryl drove us through the dark back to the Applegate.

    It wasn't Sky Lakes, but backpacking the Upper Rogue with Cheryl and Janet was its own satisfying adventure.

Cheryl

Janet and me