Journey to Oregon High Desert Wilderness Study Areas

The hunting knife in my left hand, poised for use, the trekking pole in my right, poking ahead through brush, my head was on a swivel as I solo hiked off trail up a narrow canyon with rimrocks looming 30 feet directly overhead. I whistled and sang to cope with the fear. This was the perfect place for a cougar attack. Surely the rare cougar attack that killed one person and injured another yesterday in Washington State was just a fluke. But I couldn’t seem to believe any rational arguments at the moment. What was so damn important that I was putting myself in this situation so far from any help? A simple photograph?

My original plan was to spend two months in the spring visiting lesser known Wilderness Study Areas (WSAs) and bring back pictures for possible publication in ONDA’s upcoming calendar. WSAs have been identified by the BLM as having wilderness characteristics, but have no permanent legal protection. The Oregon Natural Desert Association (ONDA) is working to obtain the permanent protections these wild places deserve. Although my aim was photographing these areas, my mission turned in to something unexpected, much larger, and more important.

ONDA map of Central Oregon WSAs

S. Fork Crooked River WSA, just downstream of source in flat prarie

Beginning my self-assigned solo mission with the South Fork Crooked River WSA, and losing the first day to the first flat tire on my pickup in thousands of backroad miles, I returned the second day to start the journey. Crunching through 6” of fresh snow under foot, and following a jeep road off GI Road up to a ridge, I studied every animal track in the snow that crossed my route. Lots of deer and elk. On the adjoining plateau, I struck off cross country to the edge of the S. Fork Crooked River canyon. Sun glinted off the snow as I surveyed the confluence of Pickett Canyon and the green rushing water tumbling down the rapids of the South Fork. During the return and while heading back down the ridge, loud sounds of rocks tumbling under a muffled snow blanket ahead alerted all my senses. Fully expecting a large herd of deer, I quietly approached through the snow around a blind corner and suddenly confronted a herd of wild horses 50 feet away. The stallion’s defiant stare stopped me dead, while the herd quickly trotted into the woods. An exhilarating start to the mission.

Solo exploring is usually necessary for an outdoor photographer to find the best compositions and wait for the best lighting conditions. Cross country travel alone, although it requires careful planning and execution, is an opportunity to heighten your senses. In a remote landscape and freed from conversation with a partner, your mind is fully engaged in watching every uneven step, every plant, every animal sign, and every cloud.

An entire week was needed to explore some of the many WSAs near Mitchell, Oregon. In the Painted Hills Proposed Wilderness Area (PWA) south of the over visited national monument area, seldom visited plateaus, valleys, and colorful paleo-soil hills were revealed in an intriguing exploration, with Sutton Mountain dominating the skyline across the valley.

ONDA map of Sutton Mountain area WSAs

Rocky Road is a route into the Sutton Mountain WSA that I had been planning for years, and was delighted to find that it delivered scenic vistas of canyons, lush springs, and ancient juniper groves high on the mountain. Although early April snows made the final approach to the summit impassable, the morning snows each day on the summit were a delightful sight.

Pat’s Cabin WSA was difficult to reach across Bridge Creek, and the jeep road ascending the canyon shown on topo maps is now just a wide wash with difficult footing. Open, grass covered round hills surrounded the canyon as I looked for Pat’s Cabin through the misty, cloudy air. Stumbling up the wash, I spied a huge coyote on a high hill, watching me intently. The air was dead still, and the canyon soaked up every sound. The canyon began to feel very small and claustrophobic. The coyote turned his head and disappeared down the back of the ridge, out of view. I am not worried about coyotes, but my old irrational cougar fear returned, finally abating as I approached Bridge Creek on the return.

Some sleuthing is required to gain entrance to the Dead Dog Canyon WSA. I found a small public lands area on the east side of Sutton Mountain, along Gird’s Creek Road, that could be used to clamber up the lower cliff faces of Horse Mountain. How glorious were the meadows and canyons revealed once on top of the first cliff bands! An entire magical, mystical world of hanging valleys, lush meadows, and prime elk habitat is hidden from view from the road, and is just across the valley from the impressive dry waterfalls on east face of Sutton Mountain.

As I walk cross country, my imagination soars back in time to the early explorers and pioneer ranchers in central and eastern Oregon, who navigated long distances cross country without the aid of our current gps and mapping technologies. I feel humbled and inspired by their abilities to live off the land as they traveled, and feel sad that our modern society may have lost more than we have gained.

Alkalai desert road near Diablo Mountain

Summer Lake provided the exploration base for another bout of cross country exploration. Diablo Mountain WSA is located so far east of Summer Lake that it appears as an innocuous hump on the horizon for those who never leave the highway at Summer Lake. Reaching it required extensive map planning, on the ground recon, and talking to locals. Not unlike the difficulties of reaching the rim of the Owyhee River canyon in many areas, although the landscape is drastically different as you approach Diablo Mountain. Gravel roads are left behind, as the route becomes twisting 2 track through alkali plains, with chest high scrub obscuring the route from even a few feet away. Deep, dark blue skies contrasted with brilliant white alkali sand and impossibly large cumulus clouds, as I neared the bottom of a gash in the Diablo rim called Sand Canyon. Beautiful, small sand dunes wind whipped into artful shapes around boulders in the canyon captured my rapt attention as I climbed up the canyon to reach Rocky Butte, a viewpoint over the western rim of Diablo.

The following morning I returned and climbed up Sand Canyon again to start a long cross country trek to reach the east side of the Diablo rim which Google Earth told me harbored the most scenic overview of the entire WSA. Gone were the clear skies, replaced by dramatic thunderstorms on three sides. I questioned every additional step while watching the distant landscape disappear in a black curtain that closed in around me. Recounting the fateful decisions made by the 1849 Death Valley wagon train from my reading the night before, I turned around only a mile from reaching my objective, and retraced my steps, eventually down through Sand Canyon with a 40mph wind funneling up through the canyon and sandblasting me in the face. I was happy to reach the safety of my truck before the heavens opened up.

Later that afternoon, the skies were once again filled with puffy cumulus clouds and I found my next route starting near the Thousand Springs Ranch. I drove through open alkali flats and hummocky dunes to near the base of the main summit of Diablo Mountain. Hiking up Cat Camp Draw, I climbed a butte opposite the summit for a sunset shot of the mountain summit , rim, and the distant valley filled with white sands. On this remote, silent butte, the stark, raw, untouched natural beauty I witnessed as the sun set on the Diablo Mountain WSA overwhelmed my senses.

Diablo Mountain on right, Cat Camp Draw disappears into the alkalai plains.

Oregon’s desert should be called ‘The Big Full’, not ‘The Big Empty’. The vast spaces and lack of trees makes every desert feature, every plant, and every detail highly observable in every aspect and able to be fully appreciated. As if each feature is a work of art on display. It fills the soul with a spiritual food that we crave. The desert is only empty when it comes to trees and people.

Closer to home is the Steelhead Falls WSA, containing the Deschutes River flowing through rugged canyons reaching 700 feet deep, and remarkable for containing wildly scenic vistas in such close proximity to the populated area of Crooked River Ranch. A mere one or two hour drive from Bend, depending on which side of the river to explore, enabled me to spend many days wandering both the east and west sides of the river within the WSA. BLM land north of Crooked River Ranch provides a route to the east rim with an overview of the big canyon area. Views of fancifully eroded formations in the canyon excite the mind while hiking north along the east rim, until finally reaching spectacular views of the Deschutes River as it backs up and floods into Lake Billy Chinook.

Several day trips to probe the east rim were required before I finally located a way down through the top cliff band guarding the sloping canyon walls above the river. Following game trails, I scrambled down 45 degree scree slopes to an outcropping of small pinnacles apparently formed during a previous fantasy goblin period. They provided the interesting foreground I was seeking for a photo looking across the river to where the artfully sculpted crescent of Potter Canyon joins the Deschutes.

Deschutes River canyon where Potter Canyon joins from the side

Exploration into the Deschutes canyon from the west rim is possible by following zig-zagging game trails down to the river at Potter Canyon, giving a lovely view of the striated cliff bands along the upper walls of Potter Canyon. Perhaps the most dramatic scene I found on the west side of the river required a tricky cross country route north from the Alder Springs Trail to the confluence of Wychus Creek and the Deschutes River. It is possible to find breaks in two bands of rim rock allowing one to descend and finally stand directly above the confluence of the Deschutes River and Wychus Creek, where one of the most scenic and colorful major rock formations on the entire river awaits the hardy.

Wychus Creek, on the left, joins the Deschutes River.

Consider the nature of an established trail. Early trails, whether created by animals or man, represent the combined efforts of many who have considered the best route of every step across the landscape to reach a point for a specific purpose the users had in mind. Thus trails evolved as the best route to reach important destinations such as food, water, or a seasonal migration. Later trail followers can relax knowing they are following a path shaped by the wisdom of those who came before. However, creativity and adventure can be regained in today’s world by choosing your own path.

Plush, Oregon was a central location to base my week of exploring the Abert Rim WSA, Warner Valley, and Hart Mountain. I arrived during spring round up, and ranchers in Warner Valley were on the move getting their horses in position to drive cattle to their new spring grazing lands. Pickup trucks and horse trailers lined the main street in Plush in front of the only store, Hart Mountain General Store, wherein the cowboys got coffee and traded information on the day’s plans. I got coffee at the store every morning to soak up the cattle drive atmosphere and listen to local stories. After listening at length to an elder horsewoman talk about a cowboy getting bucked off a new horse twice the previous day, I realized that the entire conversation had no reference to anything in our modern day society, unchanged from a dialogue ranchers have had here since 1880. Time feels like it has stopped.

The scenic objective in Abert Rim WSA was the top of the rugged rim where Juniper Creek and Poison Creek spill over the edge. The creeks had apparently carved out a bowl in the rim which would allow a possible viewpoint of a long section of the rim. But despite extensive pre-planning and multiple forays on jeep roads leading toward Abert Rim from West Coyote Hills Road through rolling country and dry canyons, the jeep roads became impassable for my pickup to continue farther. The next day I swallowed my disappointment when a longtime local rancher told me he had only ever been there once on horseback 30 years ago chasing some lost cattle. Leaving the rugged country of the Abert Rim plateau, I later parked along the highway at the bottom of the rim and climbed up Cold Creek. Storm clouds, rain, and wind was in my face as I climbed up the creek toward the most massive, sculpted sections of vertical cliff banding along the entire rim. Yet another remote and improbably beautiful spot on my list for return trips during better weather.

Springtime sees the Warner Valley and Plush flush with water and large lakes lapping at the feet of the long rim of Hart Mountain. Gazing across Hart Lake with sunset lighting the length of the Hart Mountain rim, I could see the beauty of ‘Canyon Row’, a two mile stretch of the mountain knifed by four big canyons, gouging the mountain from summit to base. Although not in a WSA, they called out for exploration. The next morning I penetrated Hart Canyon along Norton Creek, scrambling across steep scree slopes and through heavy brush. After a mile, a cliff band closed out my route, teasing me with glimpses of a high basin and open meadows above that only the animals would enjoy that day.

Hart Mountain from near Plush. Hart Canyon is on the right.

Much of the inspiration for these off trail explorations came from reading the history of the early trappers, explorers, and pioneers in eastern Oregon. Their broad capabilities, knowledge of the natural world, resourcefulness, and extreme self-reliance stand in glaring contrast to today’s highly specialized, modern society. However, one small segment of today’s world still retains these qualities: the ranchers making their living in the remote sections of southeast Oregon. I admire and deeply respect their love of the remote lands and their pioneer way of life. But I do become upset when encountering range cattle on a beautiful section of public lands. I constantly wrestle with the conflict.

My wife KJ joined me for the final week of exploration in the Pueblo Mountain WSA near the Nevada state line. After setting up our base camp in Fields, we spent the first evening with a roaring fire on the playa of the Alvord Desert. Watching the embers blow safely away into the dark playa while the brilliant stars emerged on the horizon, with the two merging in the distance, created a mind bending experience in utter isolation.

The dirt road to Domingo Pass rises steeply with sharp drop offs as it climbs the final ridge at the north end of the Pueblos. The vertical rock towers jutting skyward along the road edge near the pass are covered with an explosion of brightly colored lichen, which prompted KJ to commission a lichen photo at dawn the next morning.

As we sat at our camp in Fields that evening planning the dawn shoot, we looked up to see and hear two airplanes taxiing down the main road through Fields, a few hundred yards in front of us. The small sport planes stopped at the only stop sign in Fields, then one at a time roared down the highway, briefly out of view as the road sloped away behind the stop sign, until they swooped back up into view, engines roaring, climbing into the sky on their way to take part in air pylon racing at the north end of Alvord Desert. Fields never disappoints.

The Pueblos mainly consist of two long mountain ridges rising from the desert floor, containing a valley full of springs and meadows between the ridges. The dirt road along Arizona Creek provided an initial approach toward the main valley but became so uncomfortably narrow and steep, that KJ suddenly and wisely jumped out of the truck to walk back down while I slowly backed the truck down to safety. After two months of making good decisions while solo exploring, I felt embarrassed about making this bad one.

But the next day, I returned solo and parked the truck before the grade became death defying, in order to continue on foot. Walking up the center of the verdant, green grassed valley bathed in sunshine while Arizona Creek gurgled below, a high pass was visible in the distance that should lead me south to the main valley between the main ridges of the Pueblos. To my surprise, I encountered a fence line at the top of the pass, but quickly passed through the gate. A rough trail continued up and began turning south when I encountered a stunning sunset vista looking north. At my feet were lupine and indian paintbrush, and lifting my gaze up past a small valley filled with aspen trees, I watched the sun and clouds alternately brighten and darken the round overlapping hills in the distance, while the dark blue silhouette of massive Steens Mountain loomed on the horizon. For a very long time I was lost in sublime pleasure.

The trail climbed further until it entered Stergen Meadows. The meadow harbors numerous springs, each surrounded by dense stands of lily flowers. From the meadow, the true summit of Pueblo Mountain appears on the east side of the valley and strongly beckons a summit try across grassy upper slopes with no visible cliff bands. Across the valley, the western ridge of the range gave an imposing presence in the gloaming shadow with the sun sinking behind it. I stood thinking that eons were needed to shape this most beautiful valley, perhaps the loveliest sight yet in my journeys.

My bliss was suddenly shattered by roving herds of cows. I shooed them out of my way repeatedly and dodged cow pies as I climbed toward Ten Cent Meadow. Reaching my turnaround, I tried to photograph another natural scenic gem, but could not compose a shot with all the cows and their waste in the frame. Outrage began to build in my brain- how can this gorgeous spot be defiled by dumb cattle that could care less about this special place? As a society, can’t we find a better way to feed the cows than letting them trample the beautiful landscapes created over eons?

And then, I finally had the answer I had sought in that canyon, waiting for a cougar attack. I wasn’t doing all this just for the photographs. I was doing it to learn first hand the meaning of our public lands in my own life. I found that I had developed an intimate relationship with the natural landscapes of the Oregon desert. I need these places in my life. They provide fulfillment. These wild, remote places provide a sense of time travel- this is where you can see what nature created before man touched it. They have filled my soul and recharged my spirit. My experiences in the ‘Big Full’ have given me a whole new perspective on what is important in our modern world, and what is not. This knowledge has no price. I have much to learn, but now I clearly know why I will continue to support ONDA’s mission to protect these vital treasures.