Jefferson Park and Park Ridge - September 24, 2019

After mostly taking a few years off from the Mount Jefferson area after the publication of 101 Hikes in the Majestic Mount Jefferson Region in 2016, I decided to go back and begin exploring the area again in 2019. I will be writing about some of these experiences here.

I’ve been coming to Jefferson Park for a long, long time. At some point, I lost track of how many times I’ve been but it’s at least ten. My first visit was in 1993, via the Whitewater Trail. I was 12. Here are my notes from my hiking journal that I kept:

Jefferson Park - October 26, 1993

10 miles

1,800 feet elevation gain

Note: View of Mount Jefferson was awesome!

I added the emphasis there, because I know my 12 year-old self would have done that. Growing up in Salem, we could see Mount Jefferson from the kitchen window of our tiny little house in south Salem, and it didn’t take too long for my stepdad and I to go exploring the area.

We went back two years later, in 1995, to hike into Jefferson Park via the South Breitenbush Trail. Again, here are my notes:

South Breitenbush to Jefferson Park - October 1995

11 miles

2,400 feet elevation gain

Notes: Snow, snow, snow. Got lost near Mount Jefferson. Great views though.

This time we brought along our camera, so I can present to you a few photos from that day:

That last photo was taken after we lost the South Breitenbush Trail in the snow about 5 miles from the trailhead. I know the exact spot, and I’ve noted it every other time I’ve hiked the trail since then. Where the trail curves around Park Ridge before dropping into the park, we couldn’t find the trail anymore in the snow. So we just headed uphill, where we saw the view in the photo above. All things considered, I think I like the result here even better. The fall color, as you can see, was excellent as well.

So why did we keep going to Jefferson Park in the fall? Because I spent my summers in Illinois visiting my dad. So our hiking time was mostly concentrated in fall, with a little in winter and spring.

We went back again at the beginning of September 1996, and this time we finally succeeded in experiencing the glory of Jefferson Park in the summer. Again, we brought along our camera, so you can relive this experience vicariously through me:

It shouldn’t surprise you to learn that Nirvana was then, and still is, my favorite band.

Did I write about this experience in my journal? Of course I did:

South Breitenbush River / Jefferson Park - September 1, 1996

15.2 miles

3,400 feet elevation gain

7 blisters (for Matt)

Notes: Very beautiful hike, and very, very long. Great views of Jefferson. No snow this time around, so we didn’t get lost. Nice wildflowers, clear streams, placid lakes, and tons of people. And to think that this is the least popular of the 4 routes to Jefferson Park. Oh well, it was still a great and long, steep hike. I enjoyed it thoroughly.

It is remarkable to me how much I sound like my current self, nearly 24 years later. This was the last time we were able to visit Jefferson Park before we moved back to Illinois the following year. I didn’t make it back again until a couple of years after I moved back out there. Of course I had to take Wendy here when we were dating, and of course we had to go via the South Breitenbush Trail. And of course I had to go back and backpack the South Breitenbush Trail in 2009. While my friends stayed in their tents as the mosquitoes almost literally ate them alive, I braved the bugs to photograph the single greatest sunset I’ve ever seen in the backcountry:

Jefferson Park at sunset, August 1, 2009. The pictures cannot possibly do it justice.

So you see, of course, why I ended up writing 101 Hikes in the Majestic Mount Jefferson Region.

Of course I’ve been to Jefferson Park many times, more than I can count. But I had not been there since the 2017 Whitewater Fire burned to the park’s door. In 2019, the Willamette National Forest announced that Jefferson Park, along with the rest of the Mount Jefferson Wilderness (and Three Sisters Wilderness) would be subject to a limited-entry permit system beginning in 2020 (note: implementation of this permit system has been delayed until 2021 due to the COVID-19 pandemic). I knew I had to get back to Jefferson Park before the permit system made it much harder to visit.

I decided to go for just a day, as my options last September were limited. The forecast for this particular Tuesday said morning clouds, followed by afternoon sunshine. It sounded like my kind of day. So off I went on my merry way to the Whitewater Trailhead.

Driving into the fire-scarred wilderness was shocking, but not surprising. Once I hit the trail, I had to take my customary photo of the wilderness sign:

Things were different indeed.

The Whitewater Trail has never been my favorite approach to Jefferson Park, both due to the crowds and due to the hot, dusty approach that can get kind of tedious on a long, summer day.

This day was not hot, or dusty. Actually, it was fucking cold. And wet. And almost inhospitable. Sometimes it seemed like the sun was right there above me, just waiting to come out and wash away the rain:

And sometimes it seemed like I was walking through the heaviest of clouds, clouds that wanted to torment me for even considering hiking to Jefferson Park on this day:

It was so nasty outside I didn’t even have time to really consider the fire damage. Most of my hike in was spent wondering whether the sun would ever come out, whether I was hiking in a cloudy maelstrom just out of the reach of the healing warmth of the sun, and hoping my rain gear was as good as I expected it to be. One thing about hiking through fire damage is that you often pass out of it completely in seemingly an instant. This has everything to do with the fire lines that fire crews make, but it’s still remarkable.

Once in the unburned forest, the sun continued to taunt me:

Of course it wouldn’t be that easy. It never is.

As I hiked into Jefferson Park, the clouds returned with a vengeance, bringing with them a cold, biting wind that really made me start questioning my choices - or even my entire lifestyle. Mount Jefferson was nowhere to be seen:

Here at nearly 6,000 feet above sea level, I debated whether to turn tail and make my way as quickly out of the park as I arrived. But I felt good. In fact, I felt GOOD. That isn’t to say that I was all that happy to be hiking in such repellent weather; it was more that I felt better physically than I had in quite some time. So in spite of the weather, I made a rash decision: I was going to continue hiking into the rain, into the clouds, up to Park Ridge.

I had glorious visions of arriving at the ridgetop, above the clouds, to the absolutely magical view of Mount Jefferson found up there:

Mount Jefferson from the summit of Park Ridge, August 2016.

So I kept going. I hiked the Pacific Crest Trail past Russell Lake and began the climb up Park Ridge, my head full of hopes and dreams. The bad weather continued. At least I had the fall color to keep me company:

The further I got up the ridge, the more the sun taunted me. I could see it up there, peeking through the clouds, waiting to give me everything I longed for. At one point the clouds even parted above the summit of Park Ridge, revealing a large slice of blue sky above:

My friend Gene calls this phenomenon a “sucker hole” - as in, you’d have to be a sucker to believe it’s getting any better.

Just a few minutes later, I picked my way up the rocky trail and stumbled onto the summit of Park Ridge. Gene was right:

Contrast the picture above the one I posted from August 2016. I’ve been to Park Ridge many times, and it’s only been clear maybe 2-3 times. The other times I’ve been stuck in the clouds, including just two weeks prior on a long hike up from the Breitenbush Lake side of the PCT (that’s right - I went on very long hikes that culminated in arriving at the summit of Park Ridge, only to find it clouded in, twice in one month). Ugh.

I sat there on the summit of Park Ridge at nearly 7,000 feet above sea level and ate my lunch like a kid in detention who realizes he really screwed up. Now, let me be clear: I was enjoying myself, in spite of everything I’ve written so far. But there’s only so many times a person can hike to the summit of Park Ridge in the clouds before you start to wonder if you should just never try going here in any weather other than the reliably clear days of mid-summer.

At this point I was over 8 miles from the Whitewater Trailhead and it was maybe 1PM, maybe later. It was time to go home, and hope that both the sun and mountain would come out before I left the area. I am, in my heart, a hopeful person. So I started back down the trail, and almost immediately hiked back into the blue sky “sucker hole” referenced above. Not long after, I was able to faintly make out the summit pinnacle of Mount Jefferson for approximately 7 seconds. I considered that a major victory. No, the photo didn’t turn out.

As I continued downhill, the sun began to come out for real, piercing through the clouds with an unexpected brilliance. The skies began to clear above me:

Given how miserable the weather had been earlier in the day, I already considered this a huge victory.

The two miles of the Pacific Crest Trail from Park Ridge to Russell Lake are, in my opinion, the most beautiful two miles of trail in Oregon. As I neared Russell Lake, my spirits were already buoyed by the sun. I stopped at a spot along the trail about a half-mile above Russell Lake to bask in the sun, should I not have another opportunity that day. It was here that it happened. The clouds began to part over Mount Jefferson.

The next fifteen minutes were maybe the happiest fifteen minutes I had in 2019:

Sometimes the mountain will show herself after you’ve proven you’re willing to be patient with her. This was one of those times.

I could barely feel my feet on the trail for the next mile or so. The clouds danced around the summit of Mount Jefferson, sometimes obscuring it anew. It almost felt like the mountain was playing hide and seek with me, daring me to pull out my camera again, only to disappear into the clouds for a few minutes.

Mount Jefferson finally showed herself for good as I neared the junction with the trails to Scout and Bays Lakes:

It was here that I left the park, heading out on the Whitewater Trail back into the fire zone, back to real life.

On my way out, I stopped at the classic viewpoint of the mountain about 2 miles before Jefferson Park. Here I looked back, and found her still dancing in the clouds, looking completely glorious, beckoning me to return soon:

View fullsize

Mount Jefferson from the Whitewater Trail, September 2019. You can see how close the Whitewater Fire came to entering Jefferson Park here. If you look really closely in this photo, you can see two waterfalls, with a third just out of sight in Russell Creek’s dark, foreboding canyon.

It was a glorious end to a glorious hike.

The next few miles went pretty fast, until they didn’t and I started getting tired. By the time I reached my car, I was ravenously hungry - so hungry in fact, that I stopped at Subway in Mill City to devour a 12-inch sandwich. I was still hungry after that.

As for Mount Jefferson, I’m not hungry anymore. The mountain has shown me almost all she can show, and still I’ve gone back for more. There isn’t another place in the world where I feel more at home, and yet I only visit her a few times a year in most years. I cannot ask the mountain to give me any more - she has already given me so, so much. For that, I am eternally grateful.

Majestic Mount Jefferson, indeed.

Thanks for reading.

Breitenbush Falls - July 8, 2018

It’s been a tradition for me to invite a group of friends hiking to celebrate my birthday for many years now (see my 2019 trip to Opal Creek Falls). The past few years I’ve tried to organize an off-trail waterfall hike, such as last year on the aforementioned trip to Opal Creek Falls. My birthday trips are a chance to explore, a chance to go see one of the wildest places on my bucket list, in the company of friends. This trip to a waterfall we’ll call Breitenbush Falls was one such adventure.

My friends Tim and Melinda seek out waterfalls with the passion of the most serious collector. Together they have discovered countless waterfalls, and changed what we thought we knew about the best and most beautiful waterfalls in the Pacific Northwest. Those of us who are privileged enough to know them feel grateful to be invited on one of their adventures. Sometime in 2017 or 2018, Tim and Melinda explored a side canyon on the north side of Mount Jefferson and came back with a fantastical story about a waterfall with a huge cavern behind it, where huge cedars grew almost into the falling water above. It sounded almost too good to be true, and I knew that I had to take them up on the offer when they invited me to join them on a return trip. I figured it would be great to make this my birthday hike for 2018. Good call!

The day begin on a trail I know and love. I was excited, so much so that I found myself hiking faster than the rest of my group - I’m still sorry about this, friends! It is true that sometimes excitement causes people to lose their sense of perspective, and I knew I had to slow down because in reality I wasn’t the leader of this particular trip. After a couple miles, Tim directed us off trail and down into the canyon.

Now, about “Breitenbush Falls” - if you know the Majestic Mount Jefferson Region, you have a fairly good idea of where this is. But as always when describing an off-trail location, I am not going to give directions or spend any time describing how to find this place. I can say that this is a different waterfall than Breitenbush Cascades - but beyond that, you’ll need to read between the lines and think about the Majestic Mount Jefferson Region to find this one.

After some time spent bashing our way downhill, Tim directed us around a narrow rock band and over some huge downed trees, until we could hear the sound of falling water. We carefully negotiated our way down a rocky slope, and around the corner the waterfall came into view. It was every bit as spectacular as advertised:

“Breitenbush Falls”

As mentioned above, the falling water has worn away a rocky cavern behind the falls, where cedar trees grow into the falling water. Unlike the caverns behind the falls at Silver Falls, the cavern here looked fairly unstable. It was not a place I wanted to linger:

Behind the falls

Looking through the trees into the falling water was almost an optical illusion, as it was very dark behind the falls and incredibly bright in the canyon beyond.

We carefully worked our way behind the falls and around the other side, where at last the full waterfall came into view:

We sat here at the base of the falls and shared summit beers - the summit of course being the base of the falls, a place few have ever visited. After lunch we explored a little further downstream, finding some neat photo compositions:

The day was getting hot, and we knew we had a steep climb out of the canyon ahead…but it was hard to leave:

On the way out we found the slopes steeper and looser than expected. As I said with Opal Creek Falls, I cannot recommend this to somebody who isn’t committed to wandering up and down steep, crumbly slopes and navigating extremely rough terrain.

Leaving the falls

Eventually we made our way back out of the canyon and onto the trail. When we got back to the trailhead, we decided to stop at one of my favorite spots on the road in to explore a little more, and cool off a little:

All in all, it was another wonderful day with friends in my favorite place. Thanks to everyone who came along that day, and thank you to all who enjoy reading about my adventures!

Jefferson Lake Trail - May 28, 2019

After mostly taking a few years off from the Mount Jefferson area after the publication of 101 Hikes in the Majestic Mount Jefferson Region in 2016, I decided to go back and begin exploring the area again in 2019. I will be writing about some of these experiences here.

One of these days I’ll hike the entire Jefferson Lake Trail.

This trail has been on my mind for years, just sitting there, taking up space. I’ve been to the trailhead to look around, to hike a short distance, to take in the views on the road in…to just be there. This corner of the Mount Jefferson Wilderness is seldom traveled, but beloved by those who know it well.

I first visited this area in July 2012, while Wendy and I were camping along the Metolius River. After hiking the Metolius River Trail upstream from Wizard Falls in the morning, we drove out to the Jefferson Lake Trailhead to go check out the huge trees in the afternoon. Driving into the area, it felt like were passing into a different world, one forgotten after the B+B Fire ravaged the area in 2003. The views on the drive in are almost alien; I can’t think of another place in Oregon that really looks like this:

Driving towards the Jefferson Lake Trailhead, July 2012.

All we were able to do that day was to visit the two enormous Rocky Mountain Douglas firs along the trail, not even 200 yards from the trailhead. Not long after we visited, my friend Brad came here and managed to make it all the way to Table Lake, and back. His report on Portland Hikers stayed with me, and paradoxically made me want to hike this trail even more. It’s worth reading if you’ve got some time; it’s a fantastic piece of Type 2 fun.

I returned in 2015 to hike as much of the trail as I could. We were staying along the Metolius River, and spent the first day of our trip exploring Green Ridge. Rainy, cold weather drifted in on day 2 of our trip, and we were lucky to get a window to go explore the Jefferson Lake Trail. To my surprise, we found the trail in good shape for the first mile or so from the trailhead. Brush began to encroach on the trail as followed it through the lava, and by the time we made it to Cougar Spring, it was clear that we needed to turn around. The trail was getting faint, and the weather was letting us know in no uncertain terms that it was time to get out of the mountains. On our way out, however, we did manage to stop and take a few photos of what was an excellent display of fall color:

Magnificent fall color on the Jefferson Lake Trail.

I was grateful to make it as far as Cougar Springs (2.2 miles from the trailhead) before what turned out to be a torrential rain began to pour on us. I wrote about this stretch of trail in 101 Hikes in the Majestic Mount Jefferson Region, hoping that others would go check out what trail still existed and help save it from the encroaching tide of snowbrush (ceonothus) that was threatening to overtake the trail for good. Around this time, the Deschutes National Forest proposed permanently decommissioning the Jefferson Lake Trail, cutting off this entire corner of the Mount Jefferson Wilderness from the public.

In the few years after I published 101 Hikes, I would occasionally receive updates from folks who went to explore the Jefferson Lake Trail and found it in better shape than ever. One day, I received word that a citizen group had adopted the trail and was fixing it up. Later on, I received another email telling me that the entire trail, from the Jefferson Lake Trailhead to Patsy Lake, had been brushed out and was again passable (the spur trail to Jefferson Lake itself is believed to still be lost to the brush). Glorious news this was! So I can’t wait to go backpacking here, to Table Lake, to hike this newly saved trail.

So on Memorial Day weekend last year, Gene and I decided to meet up in Sisters to go visit Skylight Cave. I’d never been there before and Gene knew the way. After we visited the cave, I suggested we go explore some of the Jefferson Lake Trail to go see what the wildflower show looked like there. I knew we wouldn’t make it to Table Lake, but I wanted to go see the trail just the same. So we set out on the same route along the Metolius and into Jefferson Creek’s long, brushy canyon. Once we started our hike, I was shocked and dismayed to see that the two enormous Rocky Mountain Douglas firs near the trailhead had fallen in a storm:

This was a shock and a great sadness to me. The tree in the photo was believed to be the largest Rocky Mountain Douglas fir in the country, and it was with profound sadness that I walked through the huge gap between the tree that had been sawed out. That the tree had been sawed out here was also quite surprising; for more information see the article in this link.

We found the trail in excellent shape, as expected. Once we reached the lava field, I was hoping to see flowers growing along the trail. Unfortunately, it seems we were either too early for flowers, or there weren’t any to begin with. Regardless, this is a neat stretch of trail, unique to this corner of the Mount Jefferson Wilderness:

The trail winds through the Forked Butte Lava Flow.

Mount Jefferson and the Forked Butte Lava Flow.

The Forked Butte Lava Flow is geologically recent, believed to be only 6,500 years old. Forked Butte itself is a peak near the Cascade crest south of Table Lake, near the head of the Jefferson Lake Trail.

As we hiked along our merry way, Gene was less enamored with the Jefferson Lake Trail than I was. He liked lakes and water features, and this stretch of trail might be the driest place in the entire Mount Jefferson Wilderness. So we decided to turn around, and leave me to go explore the Jefferson Lake Trail another day.

So it goes; there’s a beautiful trail that is seldom traveled through the remote eastern corner of the Mount Jefferson Wilderness, and I’ve only hiked a little over 2 miles of it. One of these days I’ll make it there, once and for all. One of these days…

Three Pools and Henline Falls (in the snow!) - February 17, 2019

After mostly taking a few years off from the Mount Jefferson area after the publication of 101 Hikes in the Majestic Mount Jefferson Region in 2016, I decided to go back and begin exploring the area again in 2019. I will be writing about some of these experiences here.

Franziska of Hike Oregon and I had been talking about finding a good winter hike for awhile. A series of snowstorms in January and February of last year gave us a chance to meet up for a winter exploration, that ended up being more than was expected. Winter adventures are some of the most fun you can have outside, so long as you are prepared for almost any kind of conditions.

We met up at the junction with the Little North Fork Road and carpooled up the canyon to the Willamette National Forest boundary, where winter plowing ends. Here we parked. There was about 2 feet of snow on the road, at least six inches of it fresh snow. When I was growing up in Salem, we spent a lot of our time in the winter exploring the Little North Fork Canyon, and I’ve certainly seen this area in the winter many times before. But it never gets old, and this was one of my better winter explorations here.

Once on the road, we made our way up the road to the junction with Forest Road 2207, which branches off towards Three Pools, Cedar Creek, and eventually, Detroit Lake.

The junction of Forest Roads 2209 (which goes to Opal Creek) and 2207 (which goes to Shady Cove and beyond) in the snow.

Winter in the lower elevations of the mountains is a funny thing; a small difference in elevation can mean a huge difference in snowfall. As we began to walk down the road towards Three Pools, the snow depth got lower and lower. By the time we reached Three Pools, we were down to several inches, which made for easier walking conditions. I’ve been to Three Pools many times, but up until this day I had never been there in this much fresh snow. It was a dream come true in some ways, even though the bright skies made for more challenging photography conditions.

Three Pools with a coat of fresh snow.

After a long time spent taking photos, we walked back up the road to the 2209 junction and and turned right. It’s only 100 yards or so to the Henline Falls Trailhead from here. As we began to trudge through increasingly deep snow, it quickly became apparent that this was not going to be as easy as the walk down to Three Pools. See what I said above about small differences in elevation meaning huge differences in snowfalls; as we hiked the Henline Falls Trail, some parts of the trail were buried in as much as three feet of snow. Thankfully not all of the trail was like this; other spots were fairly easy going.

The Henline Falls Trail in about a foot of fresh snow.

Thankfully, it isn’t a very long ways to Henline Falls, and before too long we found ourselves approaching the falls. Here the trail got a little sketchy, as snow had been falling from the narrow canyon walls and piling up next to the trail. Franziska and I both strongly believe in safety, so we stayed a good distance back from the falls. We found a nice spot to stand and photograph the mesmerizing winter scene. I had never been to Henline Falls in this much snow before, and it was a sight to behold:

Franziska at Henline Falls.

After taking a lot of photos, we had to make our way back to her car. It was a nice walk back in the snow, full of good conversation and planning. Cherish good company when you have it!

I’ve been to this area so often in my life that you would think I take it for granted, but I never do; there is something so magical about the Little North Fork canyon. And every time I go back, the magic takes hold of me and I am captivated once again.

It was another excellent day in one of my favorite places.

French Creek Ridge - November 3, 2019

After mostly taking a few years off from the Mount Jefferson area after the publication of 101 Hikes in the Majestic Mount Jefferson Region in 2016, I decided to go back and begin exploring the area again in 2019. I will be writing about some of these experiences here.

I have always had a bone to pick with the French Creek Ridge Trail. When I was working on 101 Hikes, the area took a backseat until very late in the process of writing the book. Rumors of terrifying roads and rough trail always led me to push it down the pile, until I had no excuses left. I finally made it there in October 2015, but found the rumors to be mostly true. I was glad to knock the hike off my list, but bummed I didn’t have more time to spend in the area.

In 2019, I was brought onto a project to help map out what I refer to as the Majestic Mount Jefferson Region. One of the trails that needed mapping was the French Creek Ridge. How exciting! I decided to bring a group along this time, to make the experience a little less intimidating. So we took one of the last really nice days in the fall to go explore this trail, which had always felt like unfinished business.

I went into this area twice last year (the other trip was to Opal Lake), and in the years since I first published 101 Hikes, the road to the French Creek Ridge Trailhead was in the best shape I’d ever seen. Even the stretch along the cliffs before you reach the trailhead was not as scary as I remember it. Maybe I’ve seen much worse since the first time? In any case, it felt good to get back onto the trails here.

The rocky crags of Marten Buttes, not far from the trailhead.

Upon starting our hike, we very quickly discovered that the trail had received some long-overdue maintenance. Not long after I learned that a local trail crew has adopted the length of the French Creek Ridge Trail from Elkhorn Ridge through to Beachie Saddle (although the trail changes names several times, it is a continuous trail), and is in the process of fixing up the trail. I brought along my saw and clippers, and for the first two miles of the trail I barely needed either. The weather was gorgeous as well, cold and crisp with views at almost every turn. Trail maintenance began to taper off after about 2 miles, but it was still in much better shape than it had been in 2015.

The French Creek Ridge Trail as it crosses a talus slope.

We reached the junction with the Byars Peak Trail at 2.4 miles. I never got around to hiking the Byars Peak Trail before I finished 101 Hikes, so it was tempting to suggest we follow it down to its trailhead. After a bit of discussion, we decided to continue on towards Mount Beachie. From this point on brush became something of an impediment, but not as much as it had been the previous time. Shortly after the Byars Peak junction the trail begins to descend rapidly away from the rocky crest of the ridge, into the dark forests below the western flanks of Mount Beachie. We followed the trail through the bush and back out, where we arrived at the spot where I turned around in 2015. We stopped for a snack here, while Sarah decided to scramble up to the rocky ridgecrest. With some time to spare, we decided to continue onward to the summit of Mount Beachie.

To my surprise and delight, the trail was in decent shape and was relatively easy to follow, all the way to the trail’s high point at around 4 miles from the trailhead. Sure, there were times when the trail became faint, but at each turn the way was never in doubt. I knew that to find the summit of Mount Beachie you had to bail off the trail and find a faint path to the summit; we missed this faint path, and ended up bushwhacking to the summit, which was quite easy. The view at the summit was not as expansive as I had hoped it would be, but we could still see down to Elk Lake, and southeast to Mount Jefferson. After all these years, it was great to finally stand on the summit of Mount Beachie!

Looking out to Mount Jefferson from the summit of Mount Beachie.

With the lack of daylight in early November, any thoughts of further exploration were set aside. Our return trip was wonderful, with the sun shining in our faces and different views to the area all around. We made it back to the car with daylight to spare, feeling full of wonder at the beauty of this corner of the Majestic Mount Jefferson Region. I hope to make it back sometime this year to continue exploring the trails and peaks I have yet to explore. Make it so!

Hike stats:

• Hike distance: 8.2 miles out and back

• Elevation Gain: 2,100 feet

• Drivetime from Portland: 1 hour and 50 minutes each way

Map of our hike, with the trail in purple.