Mink Lake: The Back Way
STATS
Fitness Level: Difficult
Experience Level: Moderate (map and compass knowledge advisable)
Distance: 15.4 Miles
Elevation: 600 Feet
Open: June-November (Weather dependent)
Good for: Backpacking, Horse Camping
Usage: Very Lightly Traveled
Accessibility: Honda Civic (the last bit of gravel requires some caution)
Quick Take
This route into Mink Lake is a good one for backpackers who are looking to spend several days exploring lakes in the Three Sisters Wilderness area. We don't recommend it for day hiking, as the journey in is a little long for a casual adventure.
Trip Report
At the end of May, a few weeks had gone by since Tessa and I had our last adventure, so we were itching to hit the trail. Our destination had come about in a rather unorthodox way. I studied a map of the Three Sister’s wilderness area and found the biggest lake I could find that was not accessible by car: Mink Lake. I wanted to scout out Mink Lake and it’s many neighboring lakes for future backpacking trips. There wasn’t exactly a ton of information online on how to get there, so I plotted my own route to the nearest trailhead that was Honda Civic accessible. All in all it looked like the trip would turn out be over 16 miles, and take us down some trails that were not likely to be well maintained. I was perfectly clear about that with Tessa, yet somehow I managed to con her into this questionable adventure.
Tessa and the view from my favorite (secret) camping spot in the world.
Our journey began at Crossing Way campground, a poorly maintained horse camp at the end of Forest Service road 1958. I had been through this place many times before, (one of my favorite camping spots in the world is near by). It had been deserted every time I had come through previously, so I was very surprised to find an older couple tacking up their horses for a trail ride. The guy looked like he knew how to handle himself, it makes me feel good to know that there are still a few old timey cowboy types in the age of LTE reception at wilderness trailheads. I have to wonder what was going through his mind as two city kids pulled up in a shiny blue Honda Sedan with a USC sticker on the back. Well, that’s not true, I don’t have to wonder because guys like that speak their mind: “Where are you headed?” he asked, after skeptically looking us up and down. I told him we were day hiking to Mink Lake, and that we wouldn’t be out for more than six hours. He shook his head “well alright then” and I could see him thinking about the call he was going to have to make to Search and Rescue if we failed to make it back to the trailhead by nightfall.
The Trail early on.
Meanwhile, Tessa was having a moment. Horseback riding was pretty much her thing growing up, watching these beautiful beasts get ready for a trek in the woods was quite exciting for her. She motioned for me to stay back and let the riders hit the trail before we did, because, you know, common wisdom dictates that horses are faster than people right? Anyway, while Tessa was enjoying the horses, I kept thinking about the old man’s reaction. “Was this really too much trail for one day? He obviously seemed to know what he was talking about!” I have many years of experience deep in the woods, but for some reason this trail had me seriously doubtful.
Brushing it off, we headed south on the trail, at a slight incline. The woods through here felt sparse and dry, not a whole lot to note, minus the occasional mountain view off to the east. Just as we were starting to catch our stride, we rounded a corner to find the horses slowly moving along less than 100 yards away. “Ummm, shouldn’t they be farther away?” Whatever, we took the chance to stretch a bit, before moving again, only to find ourselves closer to the horses than before. It seemed as though the Cowboy’s wife was not nearly as comfortable on horseback as he was. After a mile or so of trailing them, Tessa and I stepped on the gas and made our pass. Both riders were quite befuddled, hikers shouldn’t be faster than horses! Tessa and I both got a kick out of it, and if anything picked up our pace after that.
Lovely meadows.
After our second encounter with the horses, the trail became rather lovely. No picture worth views, but the vegetation was lush, and our newfound solitude was refreshing. Our course followed a U shaped ridge at the southern end of Mink Lake Basin. On this portion we encountered a fair number of little hills and dips, but nothing too intense by Cascade standards. The trail itself was relatively well maintained at this point, with only a few windfall logs to navigate. Things were good.
Somewhere in this shot is a "trail", can you spot it?
The little red hiker dude marks where we turned right, with the terrible trail being between him and Mink Lake.
That was until we reached our second of two trail intersections. Here we were faced with a choice: take a slightly longer, but less steep, route to the North Past Rock and Junction Lakes, or make a b-line for Mink Lake up a poorly maintained trail that would have us gain nearly 400 feet of elevation in less than a mile. Naturally, being rather impatient to get to Mink Lake for lunch, we picked the shorter route… which turned out to be a legitimate pain in the ass (literally and figuratively). We quickly found ourselves with Oregon pin-striping on our legs from poky branched shrubs encroaching on the trail, seriously depleted lungs, and a legitimate concern about our location on the map, since the trail had basically turned into an unmarked creek bed. Tessa was skeptical, but eventually we made it up the hill, on pace for lunch by the lake. As we closed in on Mink Lake, a few tiny raindrops kissed our skin. All I could think about was that swimming was most certainly not going to happen, Tessa’s reaction was a little more positive, remarking that “a little rain might actually feel kind of nice”. I explained that we do not wish for such things in the Oregon Cascades, not this time of year. All very fitting considering what happened later.
Shortly after that we reached Mink Lake and set out to find a spot where we could eat lunch with our toes in the water. This proved to be more difficult than expected, with trees and bushes growing right up to the shoreline in most places. The trail around the lake is dotted with lovely campsites, but easy access to the water for swimming is severely limited. Still, we managed to find ourselves a spot, and settled down to eat our turkey and avocado sandwiches (on gluten free bread). This gave our feet a much needed moment of recovery in the lakes cool water, as we admired the view. Mink Lake is quite large for its location, but visually there is nothing spectacular about it, the trees are a little too tall to provide a good view of the surrounding mountains. One of the lessons here is that bigger is often not better when it comes to mountain lakes. Eventually our sandwiches disappeared, bugs started to swarm us, and the clouds become noticeably darker. It was 3pm, time to go if we wanted to make it back well before dark.
Pro tip: you can never bring enough food on a hike.
The water was warm enough, but the shoreline was awkward.
Tessa trying to text home, amazingly we had reception.
The return trip was a story of physical exhaustion, mental perseverance, and the motivating power of mother nature. Around Mile 10 our bodies started to fall apart. My feet were killing me, and Tessa’s back was giving her some serious trouble. To make matters worse, we began to hear a rumbling in the distance. It sounded like a jet at first, but was a little too consistent and didn't appear to move across the sky. I have always loved watching electrical storms from the comfort of my home, but that story changes when I am out in the open with six miles of trail left to the car. The rumble continued to get louder, we could tell it was just a few miles behind us, far too close for comfort. Roughly 50 people die from lighting strikes in the U.S. each year, and we didn't feel like contributing to that statistic. Eventually the rumbling stopped, leaving an eerie silence in its wake. Still, I did my best to encourage Tessa onwards for the next few miles, as she became progressively less talkative due to exhaustion. Finally she broke her silence to say “I don’t think I could run right now if I tried” big mistake. No more than 30 seconds later:
BOOM CRACK!!
The lighting had struck so close behind us that I could hear the cracking of the tree that it hit. I turned around and looked at her, fear in both of our eyes. “Run!” Turns out she could run if she tried after all. We flat out sprinted a quarter mile before slowing down to catch our breath. That strike was way too close for comfort. The thunder continued behind us, slowly pushing us forward. The two miles felt as long as the first 10. Finally spotting the car was a glorious moment. On the way back we stopped at Dairy Queen in Oakridge, and talked at length about how crazy we both are, and how we never wanted to do a hike like that again… yeah right, we’ll see how long that lasts.