Hiking the Rogue River Trail, Part 2: Illahe to Graves Creek

      One of several surprises as Cheryl, Sandy, Janet and I hiked back to Graves Creek was that the irises were gone! Farewell-to-spring had come into bloom, but we didn’t see a single iris.
    Another surprise was awaiting us at the slide, where we had had to make a dangerous crossing on the way downriver.  (See previous post.)

    Janet, who had tumbled off a trail down a steep mountainside some years ago, was anxious about this spot and had thought she might leave the trail at Marial Lodge, where she could call her husband to pick her up. But when we got to Marial, we learned that the Forest Service, that very day, was sending a crew to fix the trail. 

    On we went, all four of us. We walked across the slide without difficulty.

    The difficulty had to do with bears.

    To deal with frequent bear raids in the lower Rogue, the Forest Service had placed big metal containers at campsites, with locks complicated enough to fool a bear At Brushy Bar (where, in fact, a bear had raided my camp seven years ago), we gratefully put our packs and food in the bear box. It was hard to get the lock to work, but we managed at last and went to bed secure in the knowledge that our packs and food were safe from bears.

    So safe, in fact, that the next morning none of us could get the box unlocked. We tried for half an hour. All our food and supplies, except our tents, were locked tight. Like refugees, then, with only the clothes on our backs, we set out to hike the three miles to Paradise Lodge, hoping someone there would call the Forest Service for help.

    A sign on the trail above Paradise Lodge reminds hikers that only guests with reservations were welcome. We, of course, went down anyway. We found the manager, Bill, in the dining room. He was scowling.

    We explained the situation. He was still scowling but said he would call the Forest Service for us. 

    As we talked I kept eyeing the urn of Noble's coffee on a nearby stand. Oh, how I wanted a cup of coffee! It wasn't offered, so I finally asked if we could have some. Grudgingly, Bill said yes.

    Gratefully, we took our coffee to the deck and waited. Finally Bill came back to tell us that the man who could help us was on his day off and couldn't be reached. Essentially, the Forest Service had said, "Good luck to them" and left it at that.

    Well, okay. Hoping the problem was just a rusted-shut mechanism, we asked Bill if he had some WD40 and a screwdriver we could use. By this time he had softened to our plight. Yes, he would get those tools for us. And we hadn't had anything to eat, had we? The cook was going to open the kitchen back up, he said, and make us breakfast. He waved away our promise to bring him payment when we got our packs back. "It's on the house," he said.

    We had a very good, very full breakfast of eggs, sausage, potatoes, and more good coffee. Then, armed with WD40, we walked the three miles back to our camp, opened the lock with a couple of squirts of the magic potion, and retrieved our packs and food, broke camp, and were back on the trail. We stopped at Paradise Lodge to thank Bill and return the tools. 

    By now we were meeting group after group of hikers, maybe because it was Memorial Day weekend, or maybe the trail has simply become more popular since I hiked it seven years ago. Cheryl, who enjoys chatting with people, told so many of them I was hiking 80 miles for my 80th birthday that I became legendary.

    Cheryl, Sandy, and Janet were great hiking companions. Sandy was our constant reminder to express gratitude for the river and the wilds, suggesting a circle each morning before we left camp. Janet, besides being my good tentmate, used the app on her phone to identify birdsong for us—and oh! how beautiful it was to listen to the birds at river's edge at evening. Cheryl filled me in on the interesting people we met—the graduate student from Humbolt, the eighth-grade school group on a graduation trip, Southern Oregon University students, many others.

    And not to forget Bill, at Paradise Lodge. I talked to him myself. Nice guy.