It was the first of February, and I was restless. The Pacific Northwest was experiencing an oddly mild winter, with temperatures hovering in the mid-40’s and overnight lows only occasionally dipping into the high 20’s. Normally, I am not interested in winter travel, since many routes here in the west involve crossing eight to ten thousand-foot passes, which are mostly closed or impassible until spring or even mid-summer. One place that has been calling to me is the northern California coastal redwoods, which is a trip that I would like to do before spring. For now, though, I need to stay close to home which means more hiking than Jeeping, but that is okay. Even within several hours of where I live, there are so many places that I have yet to explore, so with that in mind I decided on the Lewis River in Washington. The Lewis River is wild and free as it comes off Mount Adams, and the Lewis River Trail is a great way to experience this, before the river gets tamed by dams further downstream. As an added bonus, I was hoping our mild winter would mean the Lewis River was running fast with snowmelt from the mountain.
Maybe I’m a different breed
Maybe I’m not listening
So blame it on my ADD baby
— Sail, AWOLNATION
It is about one hundred miles from my house to the Lewis River trailhead, which is in a day-use area bordering a synonymously named campground. The campground itself was closed for the season, which is a shame, but I was not complaining about having this entire section of river to myself for the day. The trail is a three or three-and-a-half mile out-and-back, from the Lower Lewis River Falls near the day-use parking lot, to the Upper Lewis River Falls to the north. Six or seven miles is not a major endeavor for a Paratrooper like myself, but I am 59-years old and admittedly spend more time Jeeping than I do hiking. With that knowledge in mind, I setoff up the Lewis River Trail against a cold and gray morning sky that was intermittently spitting snow and graupel. Winter hiking may sound strange, but it has its advantages. This is one of the more spectacular hikes within an hour of the Portland/Vancouver metropolis, but according to the snow that crossed many stretches of the upper portion of the trail, I was the only one on it this day.
The trail begins rising rapidly after the first mile, climbing away from the river which is now several hundred feet below. The cold air was stinging my lungs as I crested the ridge above the outcropping of basalts and began moving gradually lower towards the middle falls. Crossing Copper Creek on a wooden footbridge, with Copper Creek Falls dropping some thirty feet below the bridge, the trail turns sharply south back towards the river and middle falls. I would not be visiting the middle falls on this day, but the side-trail down to the falls looked to be perhaps a quarter mile long, with several switchbacks.
Passing the middle falls, the trail narrows with a series of rocky cliffs on one side, and a steep drop-off to the river, on the other. It became noticeably colder on this section of trail, likely due to the denser forest canopy and the high cliffs. Fortunately, the trail is fairly level, making it easier to pick my way across the snow and ice without slipping. There were several dicey sections that were solid ice, where spring water was running down the cliff face and freezing as it puddled on the trail.
It is less than a mile from the middle falls to the upper falls, but the travel was definitely slower due to the snow and ice. I began to hear the distant roar of the falls before I could see them, and I knew that I was close. Crossing a small footbridge across Alec Creek, the full winter majesty of the falls come into view. Here, I left the trail and setup my camera on a rocky beach between Alec Creek and the pool in front of the falls. The falls drop 58-feet and stretch 175-feet in width. Unlike the lower falls, where you are stuck viewing from a trail above the falls, with no easy way to get down to river level, the upper falls is a much grander experience, with the falls roaring in your face. I spent about an hour photographing the falls, and the weather cooperated, which I was thankful for.
