ODT Part 10: Rome to the End
Day 39 | October 19th, 2023
We ordered breakfast at the diner in Rome Station, then took our meals and resupply boxes outside to the deck to organize and pack. As we did, several playful kittens scampered around us, providing a much-welcomed distraction.
After leaving Rome, we headed north towards the east rim of the Owyhee River Canyon. Our journey out of town included a precarious 2-mile walk along Highway 95 followed by a steep, trail-less descent to Jordan Creek.
Cosmo and Showers descended quickly and confidently, while I walked along the rim, looking for the path of least resistance. The rugged terrain, speckled with shrubs and framed by steep cliffs, required careful footwork and a keen eye for the safest descent path towards the meandering river below. Making my way down, I relied heavily on my trekking poles, using them to test the ground before sidestepping the shifting rubble. I battled through thick brush, taking my time to ensure each move was deliberate and safe.
Crossing the creek wasn’t easy, and the climb up the other side was just as steep and rocky as it had been on the way down. We stayed closer together on the way up, looking out for falling rocks from the person ahead and, luckily, were able to navigate by following faint game trails.
The day continued with a cross-country hike through miles of bunch grass, with only cows for company in the vast expanse.
We made it to the rim of the canyon at twilight. The terrain, covered with dense shrubbery, primarily sagebrush, took on a golden color in the fading light. The horizon was painted in soft hues of peach and light blue, with a crescent moon hanging in the sky above. The vegetation was interspersed with sandy patches perfect for camping. We walked up to the edge of the rim and found a perfect spot with an incredible view.
Day 40 | October 20th, 2023
It was a sunny and quiet morning. We headed north, cross-country along the rim of the canyon, following the river's bends. Our path led us through the familiar sagebrush and bunchgrass, across a couple of barbed wire fences, and onto semi-overgrown, old two-track roads whenever possible. This segment stood out for its arid, treeless expanses, rocky terrain, and the breathtaking canyon views.
Our route took us past White Rock Reservoir and Red Line Reservoir, then down a rugged two-track road descending toward the river.
We decided to detour to Lambert Hot Springs.
Though crossing the river was a challenge, the secluded, hot springs were a rewarding find.
By sunset, we found ourselves near the south end of Lambert Rocks. The view was unparalleled; colorful exposed rock formations across the river jutted up, creating a breathtaking panorama of the canyon bathed in the soft glow of the setting sun. The light cast a golden hue, illuminating the rugged formations and highlighting their intricate textures and layers.
This spot was undoubtedly the most beautiful in the canyon and perhaps my favorite scene of the entire trail. The rugged cliffs and expansive vistas reminded me more of Utah or northern Arizona than Oregon.
That night, we camped by the river and enjoyed a comforting campfire.
Day 41 | October 21st, 2023
We left our campsite and headed cross-country, climbing steeply up a slope to return to the rim above.
We noticed a couple of canyon alternates on the map and spent some time deliberating.
Once again, I found myself yearning for more adventure and regretting not taking the canyon route.
After crossing a barbed wire fence near the rim, we continued east to join a two-track road. Along the road, Cosmo walked with our tent fly draped over his backpack to dry it out from the morning's condensation, resembling a hunchback as he hiked.
The ODT follows this overgrown road, marking the boundary of the Lower Owyhee Canyon WSA to the west for several miles. Despite its supposed remoteness, this dirt road had plenty of cell phone service and a surprising amount of ATV activity.
We spent the evening trekking along a dirt road, surrounded by bunchgrass and sagebrush.
We navigated through more challenging barbed wire fences—there were so many.
Our hike continued until we found water, discovering a lake of yellow, shallow, and unpleasantly cow-tainted water. We made dinner and set up camp, deciding to wait until morning to assess the water situation.
Day 42 | October 22nd, 2023
The blue heron's call is distinct—a deep, croaky sound that is nothing like the melodic songs of smaller birds such as the meadowlark. These avian assailants have a knack for announcing their presence with a sudden acoustic assault, shattering the stillness of dawn or dusk near any body of water. Their swoop into our foamy, yellow pond, accompanied by a raw, primal "gawk," abruptly woke me up at 1:00 am.
Fortunately, I managed to fall back asleep. By morning, the herons were gone, and the sunlight revealed the true extent of the water's repulsiveness, emphasizing its complete unpalatability. I was both tired and thirsty. The lack of water also meant no coffee, and no coffee combined with disturbed sleep resulted in a lack of energy and a foul mood.
No one bothered to collect water that morning. Showers was the first to pack up and leave, planning to meet up with us later in the day at the Owyhee River.
Cosmo and I then left camp, each with only a liter of water, despite knowing the next source could be 10 miles away.
Rain wasn’t predicted, but dark clouds loomed, creating a dramatic and intimidating scene amidst patches of sun and blue sky. A faint smell of wildfire smoke hung in the air, yet we hadn't seen or heard of any nearby fires.
The ODT briefly took us along a two-track road before continuing northeast cross-country over a ridge and up another gentle climb to a barbed wire fence. On the north side of the fence, the trail descended into the Willow Creek drainage to an unnamed spring, offering fabulous views of the Owyhee Canyonlands to the north. We stopped to enjoy the view, a perfect moment until it was interrupted by the hum of ATV engines and sporadic gunshots. These Wilderness Study Areas need saving.
Cosmo and I found water at the unnamed spring and grabbed a few liters. We took a break to make coffee which instantly improved our energy, attitude, and bowel activity.
From the spring, the ODT took us north along a two-track road. We were surrounded by stunning rocky spires and captivating canyon landscapes as we traveled next to the Slocum Wilderness.
When the road ended, we embarked on an adventurous cross-country section, descending into the canyon toward the river. It was invigorating to leave the flat dirt road behind and get our hearts pumping as we traversed steep hillsides, reading the landscape for the best and safest path. Navigating the terrain above the drainage within the rocky confines of the canyon was both engaging and exciting, and it quickly became my favorite cross-country hiking experience of the trip.
My hiking pole was broken, but I managed to find a replacement stick.
The scenery over the past few days just kept improving. As we neared the Owyhee River, the landscape became more colorful and textured.
Standing at the shores of the Owyhee River felt like hitting a high note in our journey. Rocky cliffs towered above us, their burnt red and orange faces contrasting against the blue sky. Bright white rocks and a vibrant streak of green foliage bordered the water, softening the ruggedness of the landscape. The river flowed through the canyon, its surface softly rippled, reflecting the sky and cliffs in a wavy mirror. It was the kind of scene that stopped you in your tracks, a moment of pure epic beauty that made you feel like you were standing in the midst of a grand natural amphitheater. It was all so intensely vivid, so incredibly alive.
Shedding the weight of our packs, Cosmo didn't skip a beat; he stripped off his shirt and plunged into the river, the water washing over him in a purifying embrace.
We found Showers lounging by the water's edge, waiting for us. The river is dammed ahead, creating a reservoir here instead of a river.
The water levels were low enough for us to follow a path along the edge of the reservoir that wrapped around a steep rocky section to the boat ramp at Leslie Gulch.
As we got closer to Slocum Campground, the serene scene was disturbed by colorful objects I initially thought were boats. However, getting closer, I realized they were cars that had somehow driven up to the edge of the shore, right on the water. The closer we got to civilization, the more devastation became apparent in this beautiful area. Piles of trash were dispersed along our path, and various plastic bottles and wrappers bobbed up and down in the water, drifting to the shore. It was depresssing. As I hiked, I thought about how members of the Oregon Natural Desert Association were currently in Washington D.C., working to fight for this area in the hope that it will become the next National Monument.
We settled in at Slocum Campground, a spot that felt luxurious to us with its large flat campsites, covered picnic tables, fire pits, and a pit toilet. The campground was mostly empty, save for a camper van parked some distance away; no other tents were set up.
We spread out, utilizing two campsites. We made a small fire to cook dinner which was briefly interrupted by a swift-moving thunderstorm that had us scrambling to cover our gear. Despite the sudden weather, the night was peaceful and quiet, except for the "Chuk chuk chuk CHUKARS" fluttering in and out of holes in the canyon across the road from where we slept.
Day 43 | October 23rd, 2023
It was the second to last day of the ODT and the start of Section 25, the final section. The zippers on my tent were all broken. My hiking pole was broken, my air mattress was deflating, our food supply was dwindling, and our shoes were nearly in tatters.
Despite last night's rain, lightning, and thunder, we woke to clear skies and the clucking of Chukars.
This stretch of the ODT is primarily cross-country (24 out of the 28 miles, to be precise). It’s a rugged section, challenging yet stunningly beautiful.
We left the campground and hiked along Leslie Gulch Road. We walked quietly amidst striking rock formations and colorful towering cliffs.
As we delved deeper into the canyon, the distinct spires seemed to draw nearer, rising like castles and kingdoms from the hills. We found ourselves becoming more enclosed by the walls of the canyon. The sweet song of the Townsend's Solitaire echoed softly through the expanse.
We left the road at the Juniper Gulch Trailhead and followed the beautiful single-track trail that wound through magnificent canyon scenery.
I had never seen terrain like that in Oregon; this part of the trail resembled Zion National Park more than anything. The area was a kaleidoscope of color and biodiversity—I couldn’t seem to put my camera down. The landscape featured everything the trail had offered us so far: rocks, sand, junipers, pines, sage, mullein, chokecherry, bunchgrass—it was the perfect culmination of the ODT.
We followed a narrow trail that wound through an area dotted with hardy shrubs and dry brush, hugging the side of intriguing rock formations that rose sharply from the earth. The rocks, sculpted by time and elements, boasted jagged spires and unique shapes, casting shadows in the bright sunlight.
Eventually, the trail began to fade as we transitioned to cross-country.
The gulch forked, and the ODT ascended through a grassy boulder field to a ridgeline. We tackled a steep talus slope, then descended through an unnamed drainage, dubbed "Let'er Rip Canyon" by the Friends of the Owyhee in 2018, weaving past towering rock spires toward Craig Gulch. Dark clouds loomed as we entered the canyon.
It was one of the best days on the trail. Occasionally, wild horses blocked the trail, then majestically pranced up steep hillsides. We camped on a hillside within the Honeycomb Wilderness Study Area.
Day 44 | October 24th, 2023
Chilly, clear morning. Showers sets off first, while I wait for the sun, and Cosmo waits for me. My hands feel frozen, and my skin stings with the chill.
We carry on, heading northeast through the red walls of Painted Canyon.
The trek continues over hills blanketed with yellow bunchgrass, making our way cross-country to the final high point of the route.
We spot what could be a smoke plume from a distant fire.
We scale the steep slopes around an unnamed drainage, at last arriving at Owyhee Lake, marking the end of our journey.
A few friendly and curious campers engaged us in conversation, and one couple generously offered us three beers! I found a giant onion on the ground near our camp, which we cooked up in our celebratory fire.
With our food supplies dwindling, we shared what we had left—two meals, a packet of ramen, and one giant grilled onion.
Post-dinner, we retreated to our shelters, content and mentally preparing for the journey back.
We could relax, knowing a ride back to the nearest town had already been arranged, thanks to the support of ONDA, Friends of the Owyhee, and Tim Davis. Yet, the ODT had one more test in store for us. That night, we faced some of the strongest winds of the entire trail. My tent was no fortress, with its broken zippers and a rain fly that couldn't withstand the gusts. The tent walls flapped violently, collapsing upon me while dust and sand peppered my face and exfoliated my skin all night. The scent of charred onion mixed with dust turned my stomach. But then again, what’s a thru-hike without a little bit of tumult to cap it off?
