More dams coming down, according to an AP report in The Oregonian. Slayden Construction Group was chosen to remove the Chiloquin Dam to open up spawning habitat for endangered suckers in Upper Klamath Lake.
The firm is being paid $9 million to remove the dam, an irrigation diversion built in 1914 on the Sprague River outside the town of Chiloquin. The 11-foot-high dam is scheduled to be removed by the end of 2008.
Other news: In the Register-Guard, Stahlberg points out that weather conditions are driving winter steelheaders nuts (no shit?). Beginning of the run was a sloppy mess, now it's too low and too cold for people. The guides he talks to give some good advice. Worth reading.
Speaking of fishing -- It's official today. Six months. I'm leaving in about a minute to go get my Oregon resident hunting and fishing tags. I'll probably go to the McKenzie later today to try to rustle up some winter trout.
Wednesday, February 07, 2007
Tuesday, February 06, 2007
Coastal Oregon hikes wrap up
Coastal hikes in brief: After camping at Cape Lookout last weekend we made our way south to Cape Kiwanda -- home of Haystack Rock. We headed out from the parking area into a tire-track rutted beach. But it was fifty degrees and sunny, so I tried not to let it get me down. But then I looked up to my right and saw these massive, nasty condos going up.
They’re calling them “fractional ownership cottages” in a huge multi-page ad in Oregon Coast magazine this month. From my standpoint, it blights an Oregon landmark -- and whatever Pacific City’s economic developers thinks they’re getting out of the deal, it’s probably not worth it.
Despite the nasty McMansions sprawling above us, we moved on to climb the cape for a better view of Haystack Rock. And I can say that after you climbed up the sandstone cliff and looked out over the coast, you could almost forget about Kiwanda Lodge looming behind you.
After that we headed to the Devils Punchbowl. The hike down to the beach was closed, most likely because a storm had ripped the staircase leading down to the beach from its moorings. We ignored the signs and climbed down anyway.
We thought we were being pretty adventurous, until a big family with little kids made it down without the stairs just fine right after us.
The tide was too high to get into the “punchbowl” but I did get pretty close and took a fuzzy picture of some harlequin ducks.
Sunday was a big day for surfers -- we saw them at every stop.
 |
| From MattStansberry |
They’re calling them “fractional ownership cottages” in a huge multi-page ad in Oregon Coast magazine this month. From my standpoint, it blights an Oregon landmark -- and whatever Pacific City’s economic developers thinks they’re getting out of the deal, it’s probably not worth it.
 |
| From MattStansberry |
Despite the nasty McMansions sprawling above us, we moved on to climb the cape for a better view of Haystack Rock. And I can say that after you climbed up the sandstone cliff and looked out over the coast, you could almost forget about Kiwanda Lodge looming behind you.
 |
| From MattStansberry |
 |
| From MattStansberry |
 |
| From MattStansberry |
After that we headed to the Devils Punchbowl. The hike down to the beach was closed, most likely because a storm had ripped the staircase leading down to the beach from its moorings. We ignored the signs and climbed down anyway.
 |
| From MattStansberry |
We thought we were being pretty adventurous, until a big family with little kids made it down without the stairs just fine right after us.
 |
| From MattStansberry |
The tide was too high to get into the “punchbowl” but I did get pretty close and took a fuzzy picture of some harlequin ducks.
 |
| From MattStansberry |
Sunday was a big day for surfers -- we saw them at every stop.
Alsea hatchery looking to wild steelhead for brood booster
The Alsea Hatchery is looking for anglers on the Alsea River to participate in the wild winter steelhead brood stock collection project, according to the Corvallis Gazette-Times.
The hatchery supplies collecting equipment to volunteer fishermen for transporting wild steelhead. The hatchery then uses those wild fish to boost its breeding stock.
Generally, I'm against this for a couple reasons. One, it's taking naturally reproducing wild fish out of the system. Two, it perpetuates the idea that hatcheries are a valid response to environmentally damaged watersheds.
Hatcheries are a band-aid solution. ODFW funds would be better spent restoring naturally reproducing fish. But that's pretty hard work. More fish in the creel translates into more licenses bought, therefore more money for ODFW.
If any of you hatchery-heads out there have a counter argument I'd like to hear it. I'm going to be open, because I like lots of big dumb fish as much as the next guy. And I like catching stocked fish in Oregon's high lakes.
For Trout Unlimited's anti-hatchery response, check out their Why Wild campaign.
The hatchery supplies collecting equipment to volunteer fishermen for transporting wild steelhead. The hatchery then uses those wild fish to boost its breeding stock.
Generally, I'm against this for a couple reasons. One, it's taking naturally reproducing wild fish out of the system. Two, it perpetuates the idea that hatcheries are a valid response to environmentally damaged watersheds.
Hatcheries are a band-aid solution. ODFW funds would be better spent restoring naturally reproducing fish. But that's pretty hard work. More fish in the creel translates into more licenses bought, therefore more money for ODFW.
If any of you hatchery-heads out there have a counter argument I'd like to hear it. I'm going to be open, because I like lots of big dumb fish as much as the next guy. And I like catching stocked fish in Oregon's high lakes.
For Trout Unlimited's anti-hatchery response, check out their Why Wild campaign.
Oregon natural history blog
I usually just rely on my Links list to the right hand side of the page there to guide people to sites I like, but this site deserves special recommendation. If you are at all interested in Oregon natural history or great outdoor photography, you need to check out Dzonoqua's Whistle.
Meet the cougar tree while you're there:
Meet the cougar tree while you're there:
Monday, February 05, 2007
Cape Lookout campground
I like telling people that KP and I were camping last weekend. Makes us sound hardcore. But we were staying in a yurt. Which is actually an acronym for Year-round ...Uhhh Recrational Tent. For a more thorough discussion of yurt-ness, see a previous post on Valley of the Rogue State Park and its lovely yurts.
We pulled into the Cape Lookout State Park campground around 3:00 pm. The camp host, an older guy in a green hat with an Oregon State Parks Volunteer patch attached to it, wasn’t happy about letting us in our yurt an hour early. He told us not to try to pull that kind of crap in the summer because it wouldn’t work.
He also stearnly warned us about the no dogs policy (Where the hell would I be hiding a dog in my Honda Civic?). Nonetheless he was doing his job. You have to stay on top of people. These campgrounds are mobbed by unruly senior citizens all summer -- give em an inch and they'll take a mile.
I thought the Cape Lookout campground was a lot prettier, wilder and more secluded than the Valley of the Rogue, which seemed like a golf course taken over by an RV-jamboree. This campsite was more wooded, less crowded and close to the action.
We made the run down to the beach, a short walk from the camping area, and found sand dollars and jellyfish. When we got back we could still hear the surf inside the yurt while we were muching on yuppie food: Trader Joe trail mix, green tea, Cheez-its.
After dark we headed toward Netarts and had dinner at The Schooner, a great little place with hand-tossed brick oven pizzas and homegrown oysters. No Web site for The Schooner, but you can reach them at (503) 815-9900.
The camp site is in a good location to check out the Three Capes scenic area: Cape Meares, Cape Lookout and Cape Kiwanda.
We pulled into the Cape Lookout State Park campground around 3:00 pm. The camp host, an older guy in a green hat with an Oregon State Parks Volunteer patch attached to it, wasn’t happy about letting us in our yurt an hour early. He told us not to try to pull that kind of crap in the summer because it wouldn’t work.
He also stearnly warned us about the no dogs policy (Where the hell would I be hiding a dog in my Honda Civic?). Nonetheless he was doing his job. You have to stay on top of people. These campgrounds are mobbed by unruly senior citizens all summer -- give em an inch and they'll take a mile.
 |
| From MattStansberry |
I thought the Cape Lookout campground was a lot prettier, wilder and more secluded than the Valley of the Rogue, which seemed like a golf course taken over by an RV-jamboree. This campsite was more wooded, less crowded and close to the action.
 |
| From MattStansberry |
We made the run down to the beach, a short walk from the camping area, and found sand dollars and jellyfish. When we got back we could still hear the surf inside the yurt while we were muching on yuppie food: Trader Joe trail mix, green tea, Cheez-its.
After dark we headed toward Netarts and had dinner at The Schooner, a great little place with hand-tossed brick oven pizzas and homegrown oysters. No Web site for The Schooner, but you can reach them at (503) 815-9900.
The camp site is in a good location to check out the Three Capes scenic area: Cape Meares, Cape Lookout and Cape Kiwanda.
Cape Lookout hike
KP and I set out from Portland Saturday morning, headed for the coast and Cape Lookout State Park. After spending a regrettable hour or so in Tillamook (both the creamery tour and breakfast in town were a little disappointing -- not terrible, but don't plan your day around it is all I'm saying), we continued westward to the coast.
When we got to the park there were three options at the main trailhead: South along the beach, straight out onto the peninsula and north toward the camp. We took the middle option: Cape Lookout -- 2.4 miles into the Pacific. According to Bill Sullivan, this cape was formed by a river of lava rolling down from the Cascades to the sea. You could tell, sharp volcanic rocks jutted out from the beaten trail and tried to grab your ankles.
The view to the south was great from the very beginning -- Haystack rock was off on the horizon. Not close enough to make a good landscape shot, but still nice to look at. There wasn’t much of a payoff at the end of the Cape. The view didn’t get any better.
That is probably a sign that I’m not a real hiker. All of my hiking has to be goal or rewards based. I need a viewpoint, a summit, a lake, something. That’s why I take photos constantly, or geocache -- or walk fast and call it a workout, a way to break in gear.
Too much Type A personality in my DNA. Maybe Oregon will eventually help leech that out of me.
Walking the trail we were both quiet, but my brain started channeling the late 1990s. Snippets of songs running through my head. Bad songs: Too legit to quit, from MC Hammer; Knockin’ on heaven’s door, Guns and Roses version. And it wasn’t even the real songs that were playing, more like a karaoke version.
The brain doesn’t like silence.
I wouldn’t have noticed it, except that I’d read about John Daniel doing it in his book Rogue River Journal. It's a book about an experiment in wildernes isolation, among other things. I'm hoping to review it ASAP.
On the way back from the tip of the point we started looking for a geocache. My Garmin eTrex Legend was performing particularly well at the time and pointed us right to it. The owner of the Geocache had written extensive directions about the cache, but I didn’t want it to be too easy so I didn’t read the whole thing. Usually that results in me and KP stumbling around in a 30-foot radius and sifting leaf litter, turning over rocks, bushwhacking through shrubbery and not finding anything. But this time it worked out Ok.
We found the black box under a log, just about 10 feet off the trail. The scrub was beaten down leading us right to it. We signed the log and put it back. There were some cool things in there, specifically a mini first aid kit. But we left it and everything else.
We did see some seabirds and a big pod of sea lions stacked up in a group on the south side of the cape. No whales though. Supposedly they migrate through the area in the winter and spring and they have to swim around the point.
There were a ton of trees down on the trail. Whoever maintains the trails had already come through and sawed them up, pushed the trunks to the side. I have to imagine it was from the storm several weeks ago. The ocean was relatively calm and the wind was really ripping up there. I can’t imagine what it’s like in a storm.
 |
| From MattStansberry |
When we got to the park there were three options at the main trailhead: South along the beach, straight out onto the peninsula and north toward the camp. We took the middle option: Cape Lookout -- 2.4 miles into the Pacific. According to Bill Sullivan, this cape was formed by a river of lava rolling down from the Cascades to the sea. You could tell, sharp volcanic rocks jutted out from the beaten trail and tried to grab your ankles.
The view to the south was great from the very beginning -- Haystack rock was off on the horizon. Not close enough to make a good landscape shot, but still nice to look at. There wasn’t much of a payoff at the end of the Cape. The view didn’t get any better.
 |
| From MattStansberry |
That is probably a sign that I’m not a real hiker. All of my hiking has to be goal or rewards based. I need a viewpoint, a summit, a lake, something. That’s why I take photos constantly, or geocache -- or walk fast and call it a workout, a way to break in gear.
Too much Type A personality in my DNA. Maybe Oregon will eventually help leech that out of me.
 |
| From MattStansberry |
Walking the trail we were both quiet, but my brain started channeling the late 1990s. Snippets of songs running through my head. Bad songs: Too legit to quit, from MC Hammer; Knockin’ on heaven’s door, Guns and Roses version. And it wasn’t even the real songs that were playing, more like a karaoke version.
The brain doesn’t like silence.
I wouldn’t have noticed it, except that I’d read about John Daniel doing it in his book Rogue River Journal. It's a book about an experiment in wildernes isolation, among other things. I'm hoping to review it ASAP.
On the way back from the tip of the point we started looking for a geocache. My Garmin eTrex Legend was performing particularly well at the time and pointed us right to it. The owner of the Geocache had written extensive directions about the cache, but I didn’t want it to be too easy so I didn’t read the whole thing. Usually that results in me and KP stumbling around in a 30-foot radius and sifting leaf litter, turning over rocks, bushwhacking through shrubbery and not finding anything. But this time it worked out Ok.
 |
| From MattStansberry |
We found the black box under a log, just about 10 feet off the trail. The scrub was beaten down leading us right to it. We signed the log and put it back. There were some cool things in there, specifically a mini first aid kit. But we left it and everything else.
We did see some seabirds and a big pod of sea lions stacked up in a group on the south side of the cape. No whales though. Supposedly they migrate through the area in the winter and spring and they have to swim around the point.
There were a ton of trees down on the trail. Whoever maintains the trails had already come through and sawed them up, pushed the trunks to the side. I have to imagine it was from the storm several weeks ago. The ocean was relatively calm and the wind was really ripping up there. I can’t imagine what it’s like in a storm.
 |
| From MattStansberry |
Sunday, February 04, 2007
Osprey gear review
Saturday I took my new backpack for a test run on the Cape Lookout trail. It was a nice windy slog on the coast through Sitka Spruce and Western Hemlock on a volcanic ridge jutting out into the Pacific Ocean.
When I got to the end of the trail I met a couple of hikers that worked for an agriculture dept in Tillamook and we talked about packs for a bit. I was humping my Osprey Atmos 65, loaded with about 25 pounds of gear. The guys oohed and ahhed about my pack, too polite to make any criticisms, but I’ll lay out a couple here.
First, I don’t like the bottom chamber. I bought it in a bit of a rush (on a lunch break) and hadn’t noticed that the bag wasn’t a single stuff pack. It has a bottom compartment that zips open for you to put your sleeping bag in. I’ve got an old sleeping back and it doesn’t fit. It probably means I need a new sleeping bag, but I still didn’t like it. The bag makes you pack the way it wants you to, and zippers leak.
Second, it rode a little high on my hips, seeming to move up as I walked. I did some adjusting to make it fit better, loosening the shoulder straps, tightening the sternum. There are probably some things I could do with the internal frame. I’ll have to check that out.
The mesh back panel design was meant to keep the pack off of my back, giving my skin some room to breathe, but I was still sweating even stripped down to my base layer. Still, I think it’s a cool idea and it’s really comfortable.
All in all I think it’s a good pack. But maybe that’s because I spent the cash already. Regardless, I did 5 miles with 25 pounds and had zero strain or pain. I need to spend more time learning how to pack it better.
Osprey Atmos 65 Specs
Cubic inches: 4,000
Liter 65
Weight 3lbs 10oz
Max recommended carrying weight 45lbs
Removable Sleeping Pad Straps
Water Resistant Zippers
Cost: $229.
When I got to the end of the trail I met a couple of hikers that worked for an agriculture dept in Tillamook and we talked about packs for a bit. I was humping my Osprey Atmos 65, loaded with about 25 pounds of gear. The guys oohed and ahhed about my pack, too polite to make any criticisms, but I’ll lay out a couple here.
First, I don’t like the bottom chamber. I bought it in a bit of a rush (on a lunch break) and hadn’t noticed that the bag wasn’t a single stuff pack. It has a bottom compartment that zips open for you to put your sleeping bag in. I’ve got an old sleeping back and it doesn’t fit. It probably means I need a new sleeping bag, but I still didn’t like it. The bag makes you pack the way it wants you to, and zippers leak.
Second, it rode a little high on my hips, seeming to move up as I walked. I did some adjusting to make it fit better, loosening the shoulder straps, tightening the sternum. There are probably some things I could do with the internal frame. I’ll have to check that out.
The mesh back panel design was meant to keep the pack off of my back, giving my skin some room to breathe, but I was still sweating even stripped down to my base layer. Still, I think it’s a cool idea and it’s really comfortable.
All in all I think it’s a good pack. But maybe that’s because I spent the cash already. Regardless, I did 5 miles with 25 pounds and had zero strain or pain. I need to spend more time learning how to pack it better.
Osprey Atmos 65 Specs
Friday, February 02, 2007
February PDX 07
After spending six months in Oregon, I've finally made my first recreational trip to Portland. It's not a bad town, I just hate I-5 too much to come up here often. This pic is from the Chinese Gardens.
I made a stop at Powell's tonight and picked up some new books to review for OOJ. More details on that later.
Tomorrow it's Tillamook or bust. We're hiking Cape Lookout and staying in a yurt. I'll be trying out my new Atmos 65 and geocaching. We're looking for GC9311.
I'll let you know how it works out.
Medford, OR fly shop promotes gratuitous fish porn
Thanks to Moldy Chum, I found myself clicking through the winter steelhead hero shots on the Trophy Waters Fly Fishing Shop's online photo album. Check out this cutt:
The countdown is on: Five more days until I am officially an Oregon resident (six months) and I can go buy my '07 permits. If you've seen an inordinate amount of hiking posts between Jan 1 and now, that's why.
The countdown is on: Five more days until I am officially an Oregon resident (six months) and I can go buy my '07 permits. If you've seen an inordinate amount of hiking posts between Jan 1 and now, that's why.
Freak salmon on the Rogue River
When Jack Burns of Medford, OR hooked into a 30-lb fish on the Rogue River last week, he was pretty sure he was going in the record books for a monster winter steelhead. But when the fish came to the net, Burns had something entirely different on his hands, a freak Chinook salmon. Spring chinook aren't due to run in Oregon for another month, while the fall run happened months ago. The likely origin of this lost salmon is the Sacramento River basin -- an unusual run of rare "winter" chinook. The Mail Tribune has the full story.
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