Three days across the old Siskiyou National Forest

a trip report by member Bryan Duggan of Coos Bay, OR We’re often pulled between competing goals in life - being kind, supporting your family, working hard and simply getting out into the wilderness more often. Sometimes the best way to make progress on any of them is through small, attainable steps and steady commitments. That was the case with my recent trip into my own wilderness backyard, the Rogue Siskiyou National Forest. To meet my objective of spending at least one weekend a month enjoying our Public Lands, I arranged a trip with my frequent backcountry partner, the honorable Grant Benjamin Herron, a seasoned backpacker and Forestry professional in federal service. As a new father, it is tougher for Grant to commit to long miles in the backcountry these days, and so we arranged for a car camping/day hiking exploration of the Coquille/Rogue/Elk great divide in the Oregon South Coast to get our wilderness “Fix.” The Rogue–Siskiyou National Forest spans nearly 1.8 million acres across southwestern Oregon and northern California, long regarded as one of the most biodiverse forests in the United States. Its slopes are crowded with conifers and rare endemic plants uniquely adapted to serpentine soil and the region’s hot, dry summers. Despite living less than 50 miles away, there are still ridgelines I’ve never climbed and trails I’ve yet to discover here. So, when the chance came to explore more of my own backyard, I grabbed my favorite backcountry partner and set out on a three‑day, two‑night trip to take in some of the forest’s highlights. Leaving Coos County, we followed the familiar route along Powers Highway, tracing the South Fork Coquille River toward its headwaters. Downstream, the river often struggles with high temperatures, bacteria exceedances, and invasions of warm‑water bass. But as it rises out of the town of Powers, the South Fork quickly narrows into steep, forested valleys. Along U.S.F.S. Road 33, tributaries spill down in small waterfalls, often with short trails to them, even higher up before Eden Valley, the Coquille River Falls beckons to be explored. I love travelling this road as there are numerous public campgrounds, free to camp, and great spots for fishing and swimming. Our first night destination was the top of Panther Ridge near Buck Point, where the West Fork Mule Creek Trail completes its 8.5 mile and 2,200-foot ascent from Rogue River Ranch, a beast of a trail that had both Grant and I reminiscing about past trips on the Wild Rogue Loop. Car camping affords luxury and so we quickly set up our kitchen, tents, camp chairs and started a fire. The night was cold, but our spirits were high for making it out despite our competing commitments and the fact that we were there on Panther Ridge. Both Grant and I were eager and a bit anxious about what we were to discover on our hike to Hanging Rock on the morrow. The 2025 Moon Complex Fire, sparked by lightning in early September, ultimately burned about 19,500 acres of the Rogue River–Siskiyou National Forest, severely impacting our beloved Rogue River Trail. Standing on the easternmost point of Panther Ridge months later, we weren’t sure what we would find below. After a superb English breakfast—homegrown eggs, sausage, bacon, beans, tomatoes, and mushrooms, a tradition Grant and I have adopted on our trips—we headed for the Hanging Rock Trailhead. The hike is just under a mile, climbing roughly 300 feet through mature Douglas-fir and hemlock stands along the crest of the Coquille watershed. It tops out on the dramatic spine of Panther Ridge, which drops sharply into the Rogue River Valley. Given the mild, gorgeous weather and the trail’s popularity, it was no surprise we weren’t alone on the hike or at Hanging Rock itself. As for the fire scars? My worst fears were eased when it became clear that the fire, largely confined to the west end and lower Rogue River corridor, had burned in a mosaic pattern characteristic of a mixed‑severity event which speaks volumes about the resiliency of mature forest stands. Ecologically, this kind of patchwork burn creates varied fuel conditions across the landscape, making it far more difficult for future wildfires to advance quickly or uniformly. Next up we decided to continue the drive along Panther Ridge, heading west along USFS Road 5520 toward the Bald Knob Lookout. We wanted a clear view of Agness Pass and to see how far west the Moon Complex burned. Again, from my perspective, the fire seems to have continued the patchwork burn pattern, at least from what I could see from the Lookout. Bald Knob at 3,630 feet sits on the western edge of Panther Ridge above Agness Pass. The Bald Knob Lookout is a reservation facility managed by the Rogue Siskiyou NF and offers another unique opportunity for the public to enjoy our Public Lands, with panoramic views of the surrounding area. The lookout facility has seen some recent repairs and vegetation brushing to improve fire resiliency and views. After this short visit, Grant and I continued west, up and over Agness Pass to access the Iron Mountain South Trailhead and explore the Iron Mountain Botanical Area (Trail #1265). Iron Mountain sits on the crest of the Coquille, Elk and Rogue basins and is home to a diverse mix of tree species including Port-Orford cedar, incense cedar and white fir; a lot of azaleas and rhododendrons are also present and have yet to bloom. About .75 miles up the trail is a junction that takes one up to the Iron Mountain Vista. If you are just here for the views, this short but steep trail is for you. The site of another former fire lookout, the summit offers panoramic views of the Coquille, Elk and Rogue drainages; we spied Bald Knob east, Barklow and Copper Mountains to the north and Sawtooth Rock and the Rogue River to the southwest of us. After a celebratory summit Beer, I headed down to continue hiking the Iron Mountain trail to the north, Grant and his pups returned to the south trailhead. Thanks to the Siskiyou Mountain Club 2024 trail work, the rest of the Iron Mountain Trail remains in good order. I encountered no trail obstacles and found the hike to be pleasant, if not rocky. Our second night out found us at a ridge top “quarry” camp on the shoulder of Ophir Mountain. Again, we set up our luxury kitchen, tents and chairs and started a roaring fire. We dined on elk steaks (thanks to Grant’s deft downing of a cow earlier this year) and olive oil dipped grilled vegetables by the fire with warm whiskey to celebrate the day. The night was pleasantly warm and with full bellies we were soon nodding off to sleep. Our final morning saw another repeat of the English breakfast followed by our taking advantage of the quarry for planned target practice. I am reminded about what ole Ed. Abby said: “An armed citizenry is the first defense, the best defense, and the final defense against tyranny.” I also spent this morning cleaning up this campsite as previous campers left enough beer cans and shell casings to make Hunter Thompson blush. We then continued to head west on the 5325 Road into the Elk River Drainage, Grant wanted to scout for a good river camp for a forthcoming family camping trip next month. On our way we visited Laird Lake perched above the S.F. Elk River. At approximately 1,800 feet, this primitive site campground has a pit toilet, at least 4 sites and offers fishing (stocked rainbow trout). It must be the water here, for those trout spend quite a lot of time jumping in the lake. This area is known for quiet atmosphere and “access” to the Copper Salmon Wilderness. Again, I was obligated to pack out the previous occupant’s garbage, but hey, we all do our part. This last stop was the end of our short adventures on the South Coast. As we followed the Elk River downstream, the Copper Salmon Wilderness rising to the north, I found myself reflecting on what I’d seen in my own public‑lands “backyard.” Over just a few days, I’d taken in remarkable views, walked and driven through diverse, functioning forests, and relied on the well‑placed infrastructure that makes these places accessible. What stayed with me most was the sheer range of benefits these landscapes continue to provide: clean water, climate resilience, and support for nearby communities. Over the weekend, I saw how mixed‑age, mature forests can temper wildfire behavior. I watched healthy riparian zones do their quiet work, protecting water quality for downstream residents. And I shared these places with others—people seeking meaning, recreation, or livelihood in the same forests. The contrast between public lands and intensively managed industrial forests was stark, especially here on the South Coast, where their boundaries often sit immediately side by side. Currently the Goons of Capital say that our public lands are miss managed and would be better served through local management. But do not be fooled by the “system is broken” argument. The current administration is calling for a major restructuring of the U.S. Forest Service which threatens the loss of our skilled public servants and can sometimes obscure efforts to shift public resources into different hands. Large‑scale transfers or reorganizations have the potential to pave the way for reduced protections—affecting everything from clean water and fire‑resilient forests to wildlife habitat and long‑term public access. Our public lands, while not perfectly managed, have for the most part been managed to benefit the public interest. Our public lands are a right and not a privilege and it is up to us to protect their integrity and access for future generations of all beings. We should reject any future that compromises both public access and the ecological strength of the lands we all share.