Hiking time: 406 minutes and 15.48 seconds, or 6 hours and 46 minutes, plus 80 minutes of screwing around looking for the Trapper Creek Trailhead. It's been ten years since I've been here and I forgot how to get to the Trapper Creek Trailhead. I thought it was from the cottage road which is through superb old growth Douglas Firs and Western Red Cedars. At least I got some good photos there, but I was about to give up my search when I was driving out of there and I saw the Forest Service Road that the guide book mentions as accessing the trailhead. So I took it and found it!

Estimated climbing: 2,300 feet. Blocked by one raging creek preventing me from reaching my goal, which was the new bridge over Trapper Creek. Was really disappointed about that. Fell down flat on my face into another raging creek that I made just fine going in. Doused my camera on that one, but it was none the worse for wear. Amazingly I wasn't injured and I did not get a hot foot, even though I was down on my hands and knees in water and practically lying on my belly. My shorts were soaked all up and down. I guess the gaiters around my boots protected my feet, which means they served their purpose. That's all I can figure. But that experience was very demoralizing. I hate physical accidents on hikes, the ultimate failure of take care of oneself. Fortunately and utterly amazingly, absolutely nothing was damaged, only my ego.

Took 120 photos, of which 65 made the cut. It was sunny and I was in the woods. Therefore, the lighting was terrible for photography and there were a lot of hot spots in these photos. Lots of large, highly distinctive tree trunks in this superb old growth forest, one of the best old growth forests within 60 miles of where we live.

When I left Portland at 6:00 in the morning, it was already 61°, but being a safe camper, I took "extra clothing" anyhow, including a long-sleeve thick pullover shirt, but no gloves. I was shocked when I got to the trailhead and the temperature was 42°! The pullover shirt "saved my life" to speak metaphorically, and unusual for me, my hands did not get cold at this temperature without gloves. I've always needed gloves when the temperature falls below 60° (because of lifelong poor circulation, I guess). However, it soon warmed up and I could strip down to my shorts and short-sleeved shirt. By the time I got back to Portland the temperature was a tragic 94°. It's the end of the world as we know it. Carlsbad, California is burning to the ground with 3% humidity. I used to work there.