Sheep Creek: Friday, May 2
Despite the fact that we set a Welter-esque “spookball-style” rendezvous (location and time: classified), Jeff and I still managed to find each other on Friday evening at Sheep Creek Road. Soon after, we were getting reacquainted with our adept ability to make things much more difficult than necessary. After parking just beyond a culvert crossing of Sheep Creek, we contemplated descending into the narrow, brush-lined canyon where travel would be limited to the creek itself. “You don’t have to walk IN the damn creek all the time, moron!” My internal dialogue is usually self-deprecating in order to keep my delusions of adequacy at bay. At that particular moment, it served to awaken a half-decayed common sense that should have been prodding me up onto the forested ridge above the canyon. Reluctantly, our adventurous spirit ceded to common sense. This was, after all, the warm up hike.
After a fifteen-minute descent through what seemed like the last trees in the drainage to remain untouched by a woodsman’s blade, I noticed a clearing ahead and in anticipation of a horizon line in the creek we were confronted with…another road. Slapped with the reality that we had needlessly walked through a quarter mile of deadfall, we opted to take the road as far as it paralleled the creek. Then, a short scramble down to the creek put us right above the horizon line of Sheep Creek Falls. We found the short game trail described in an earlier report and soon found ourselves on an exposed outcrop across from the tiered falls just as the rain clouds moved in. Jeff set up the survey equipment and began the measuring process while I feigned an understanding of basic photography principles. I tend to just act like I know what I’m doing with a camera and get lucky once in awhile. My best photographic efforts, however, fell short of the desired outcome while Jeff’s measurements of the falls proved that they are, indeed, much taller than they look: they measured out at 92 feet. We then noticed the obvious reason: careful observation shows that the three tiers are actually spaced farther apart than they actually appear, resulting in significant foreshortening.
- 92-foot Sheep Creek Falls
Saturday, May 3: Soda Fork Falls
I emerged from my tent at the crack of dawn (8:15) to see that Jeff had discovered that every time he opened his map on the hood of his Jeep, it started raining, and when he put it away, the rain would stop. I reminded him that correlation is not causation, insisting that Murphy’s Law was a more suitable explanation for his luck.
After a hearty breakfast (one Justin’s peanut butter cup) we were scouting the upper reaches of the Soda Fork by road to get a lay of the land. Before descending to the bottom of the canyon, we opted to check out the overlook that Tim described in his report from last yearI made the incorrect assumption that it would only be a few easy yards of walking to the vantage point, so, despite my Vibram Five-Fingers and my 5.10 Canyoneers sitting on the floor of my car, I opted to wear my flip-flops. Fortunately, I only paid with a couple of small cuts to my toes. To make matters worse, we reached the cliff-edge and there was no sign of the waterfall that we were obviously experiencing by sound. Rather than spend any more time trying to locate the elusive vantage, we drove a short distance down the road and began our descent.
The descent was relatively easy as far as steep, deadfall-laden tromps through Oregon old growth go, but this section of forest seemed to be the perfect growing region for everything viney and thorny. And I found that I had a penchant for discovering said thorns with the same two fingertips and my crotch.
The forest thinned and we started encountering more rock outcrops, so we shifted our direction north until we rounded a corner and got our first glimpse of the falls. The lower half was obscured by a stand of timber, so the obvious goal was to get the base and hope it had a complete view of the falls.
This waterfall proved to be much more complicated than we could have hoped for, if we hoped for such things. It also proved to be much bigger than we originally thought. I spent much of the hike spouting a well-rehearsed narrative around the assumption that we were likely dealing with a 200-footer. Through thickening stands of Alder, we quickly established the vantage point that gave us the most complete view of the falls and noted that the shear, slender drop that characterizes the upper half has incised a narrow cleft deep into the cliff face, hiding it from view from all but the most direct vantage points. This problem is compounded by the complex series of cliffs that extend away from the falls; move just a few feet to the left from our vantage and a wall of basalt obstructs any clear view. Moving to the right, however, presents a different problem involving trauma and drowning. Such a move would give one a closer-than-needed view of the complex web of the lower section of the falls.
- Soda Fork Falls from the only clear vantage point near the base
Ascents always seem to be more direct and we were able to quickly ascend along the base of the cliff a fraction of the time it took us to descent despite the higher concentration of thorny vines.
A short drive north put us at the edge of the mother of all clear cuts where several tributaries join the Soda Fork. Sticking an ear over the edge of the canyon revealed the unmistakable sound of a waterfall, but, as luck would have it, the only trees still standing after the logging orgy of days since gone were directly between us and the falls. Jeff was tempted to scrap it and move on to our next target, but I was convinced that a clear view was to be had. A short scramble down the road embankment and through a stand of trees put us out into a dry, sandy clearing with sparse vegetation. An easy five-minute descent gave us a clear view of the first waterfall: a twisting, sliding, double-step horsetail. A quick traverse downstream revealed another two-tiered waterfall ending with a plunge into deep, tree-lined abyss where I could just make out the terminus of the bottom tier. The steepness of the canyon wall was rapidly increasing, so rather than press our luck with trying to get to the base, we opted to scramble back up to the road.
- Upper falls of the Soda Fork
- Middle Falls of the Soda Fork - into the abyss
We may be the only two people who have ever hiked the trail to Lower Soda Creek Falls with enough pack to crush a sherpa while wearing gaiters. My initial plan was to use the trail from Cascadia State Park to hike to Lower Soda Creek Falls with relative ease, skirt the massive cliff using magic, and then float upstream to the upper falls. What could go wrong?
The trail wastes no time introducing itself. The grade is surprisingly steep, but it is well maintained – except for the bridges – which seem to have been built according to a strange set of standard specs. Apparently, milled wood fails to supply adequate traction beneath the tread of the average citizen who may occasionally hike along a trail in footwear designed for hiking, so the obvious remedy was to coat the entire bridge surface in rusty chicken wire. Feeling relieved that my recent tetanus shot would protect me in the event of a fall on the first bridge, we noticed that the wire on the second bridge was terribly unraveled and was peeling up to form what looked like a perfect rabbit snare – a legitimate trip hazard for the unwary hiker. What was the park staff trying to do to us?
After successfully navigating the objective hazards of the trail, we arrived at the lower falls and proceeded beyond it to the west, looking for any obvious chinks in the armored cliff. A faint trail climbed along the base of the rock wall, but no obvious routes upward presented themselves – at least none that did not require exposed and precarious scrambling. This was the case for as far as we could see. The farther we hiked, the more prominent and ominous the cliff became. We attempted it vertically, but a decaying section of “trail” above a 40-foot vertical drop aroused my Elvis legs. The scrambling was actually quite easy, probably nothing more difficult than low fourth-class with lots of opportunities to place adequate protection, but the consequences of an unprotected fall would most likely be terminal. Finding ourselves inadequately equipped for climbing, we retreated to the lower falls, where the light was perfect for photography and the typical state park crowds were conspicuously absent. Jeff measured the falls for good practice and, at 139 feet, was within five feet of Bryan Swan’s numbers posted on the waterfallsnorthwest.com site.
- Our consolation prize - Lower Soda Creek Falls
So, the first waterfall exploration since ’07 didn’t go a smoothly as planned, but we’ll just consider it a practice round. At least Salt Creek Falls is officially a little lower in stature.
