Smith to Summit: Summit Valley

Six Rivers National Forest

DAY 1  |  DAY 2

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It wasn't all that cold in the dim morning light. I wasn't all that quick at breakfast before we headed out for an expected long day, which could be longer due to uncertain snow conditions.

Under the big trees as we start up the Summit Valley Trail (3E07).

We passed various trees cut from the trail, smaller than I remembered, as we curved around to an already known obstacle, a fallen tree much bigger than any I remembered. That saw that was used along Forks of Blue just before I traveled there might be big enough. I think those were only up to my chin. This is taller than we are, even lying down, and its well centered across the trail to maximize difficulty in going around on the hillside. And, of course, it didn't come down without collateral damage to the surrounding trees. We headed up and up and eventually around and down again to get to the real trail climb.

There is still no sign of the one sunny day.

The further climb has small trees down and is brushy, but there's nothing to push one off the trail. We sent some of the debris flying downhill, but not nearly as much as we did on the way down again.

There's our sunny day, coming along with more mists over the river.

A preview of things to come. It doesn't look like much snow, does it? Just constant.

I got a quiz on the plants and am ever uncertain. The waist high sticks all around, topped with old seed pods and new leaf buds, did seem to pull on some memory, though. I pushed a little and finally the memory of the hillside full of blooming azaleas came back. They are far less impressive now.

The manzanita is already blooming.

Just past a bend with a short trail to water and a spot a quarter mile later that looks campable, we hit more brushy section and the first snow on trail.

Proof! There was snow on trail around 2600 feet or so!

It didn't take all that long for the happenstance spot of snow to turn into patches that turned into solid stretches of snow with occasional breaks on ground.

Trail under snow around 3200 feet.

It's especially patchy on those few more southerly facing spots.

Looking past a lookout topped mountain to coastal ranges of Oregon.

The snow thickened as we climbed, but our feet kept very nearly hitting the ground with each step. We'd used different reasoning, but come to the same no snowshoe conclusion. It was looking like that was the wrong one. Closing in on 3800 feet, it was just looking like a miserable slog for a minimum of 2 more miles.

Deep prints probably on trail as we climb the wide north ridge. There's a wilderness high point out there somewhere in the distance to the northeast.

The old lookout would be buried under snow on the peak that sits just shy of 5000 feet. The patch of trail covered in tiny trees would be buried under snow too, maybe. We wouldn't know because we decided to give the rest of our energy to the walk out.

Another pondering of the wilderness high point, now rising high over the South Fork Smith River.

We didn't hurry down and paused in a few spots where little birds were passing through. Play a little of the right bird song and they'll pause and look back, at least briefly.

Two ends of a little bushtit.

The view up Eightmile as the valley climbs toward Doctor Rock.

There's a couple notable trees along the way.

Lichens wearing red lipstick.

The mountains did seem to be wearing a bit less snow as we walked down. It is really a reduction of an inch or two, but it looks dramatic. I am tempted to think that it would have been easier than it looked to continue, but we were too far ahead of the melt and not on the face where most of it happens.

Less snow on the peaks from a bit of trail that had thin snow before.

A glance at South Fork Smith River below the (now hidden) nearby lookout.

What the western azaleas look like today.

Back from the frozen to the soggy with a hairy curtain crust mushroom.

A perennial stream to cross near the bottom.

When we got to the downed old growth once more, we backtracked and tried an animal trail downward. There were a few logs to cross and one one could walk along for a possible disaster (but I managed to stay balanced for the couple feet of skiing down it) on the way as well as a swampy portion to avoid in our ultimate direction of travel. Our feet may have been wet already, but the growth was too thick to push through. The trail at the bottom seemed a long way off before we could turn back to camp.

What remains of the shelter at Elkhorn Bar.

Even with chasing birds and tossing big bark chunks off the trail, we still had plenty of time for the hike out. We packed up camp, had snacks, and headed ostensibly downhill, at least until that final 300 foot climb.

Strings of flowers flowed off the osoberries scattered along the river.

A deep swimming hole without much access. Probably a bit of current currently.

There's one or two true trilliums along the trail too.

A few brook wakerobins are now dry.

We stopped again at the shelter at Buck Creek. I wanted to check the lilies for more openness. The best flower I'd found the day before looked the same, but I found one that looked a little more open, but the petals are still sealed. They are all in bud.

The checker lilies will open up into a flared bell shape and probably darken.

The far side of the river channel shows a little of the hidden power in the rushing water as it splashes about.

The fearless photographer of river water.

And the bald eagle that wheeled around and turned upstream over his head.

We did manage to tear ourselves away from the river and make the last little bit of hike back just before dark. A leg muscle or two were trying to claim strain, although it was all still within the limits of overnight recovery. Still, I was happy we hadn't fought the last two miles upward and I wasn't even the person breaking the trail through the snow most the time.

There's lots of milkmaid blooms in the warmer areas.

*photo album*




©2025 Valerie Norton
Written 18 Apr 2025