Challenges of Blue Pool

Kelly Kenoyer

Tamolitch Falls spills into a jewel of a pool in the midst of the Willamette National Forest.

The miniature lake there, popularly known as “Blue Pool” for its iridescent hue, draws tens of thousands of visitors each year. It’s an hour from Sweet Home and just a bit further from Eugene, so it’s an attraction that draws visitors from all across the region, and even from around the world.

But that popularity has led to some danger and some degradation, according to first responders and foresters. The hike has drawn the attention of Tik Tokers and YouTubers who post videos of themselves leaping into the pool from the cliffs surrounding it. And those kinds of activities can lead to injuries and resource-expensive rescues, usually from Sweet Home.

McKenzie River District Ranger Darren Cross said the hike has become increasingly popular in the past several years, drawing 40,000 visitors in 2018, and probably “50,000 or 60,000 visits to Blue Pool by the end of this year.”

The newfound fame of the pool has overwhelmed the limited infrastructure around the hike.

“There’s a parking lot for maybe five to 10 cars, then people start parking down the road and all the way out to Highway 126,” Cross said.

When a reporter hiked the trail on a recent Sunday afternoon, dozens of cars were parked along the highway, with scores more parked along the road to the hike and in the parking lot.

Eugene Water and Electric Board has an operation center right near the trailhead, and visitors sometimes illegally park next to the center, blocking workers and operators in, Cross added.

Tough Conditions for Unprepared

But the realities of the hike can produce worse consequences than parking tickets. Some who hike out there are woefully unprepared for the rigors of the hike, expecting it to be a short walk to a beach-like hang-out spot. Cross says that perspective is uninformed.

“If you’re going there unprepared and your flip-flops and your floaties, wanting to get in the water, you’re not prepared for the hike.”

Sections of the 3.7-mile out-and-back trek cover somewhat difficult terrain, with trails cut through pumice stone and lava rock. It’s a beautiful landscape, but not particularly suitable for those walking in swimsuits and sandals.

On a Sunday in July, at least a dozen hikers came in swimsuits and water shoes or flip-flops, and visitors ranged from parents with infants to the elderly.

The trail starts quite flat, a well-worn dirt path that meanders over wooden bridges, cooled by a breeze from the waters of the Mc-Kenzie, which turn the same iridescent blue of the pool when tossed by rapids downstream.

But a mile or so in, the trail rises high above the river on cliffs formed by ancient lava flows. The views are beautiful, but it’s easy to turn ankles on the rough terrain.

What’s more, when it ends above Blue Pool, the trail remains high above the water. On the day this reporter visited, four or five people jumped into the water from those high cliffs, and half a dozen more clambered down steep rocks to get to the water and jump in. Once they did, they were in for another shock.

“That water is so cold; it’s like 36 degrees year-round,” Cross said. The water flows in underground lava tubes from Clear Lake, so it gets very cold as it filters through the earth.

All of this poses challenges for the Sweet Home Fire and Ambulance District, which is tasked with responding to medical calls at Blue Pool.

Injuries on the Rise

Injuries are growing more common on the trail as it grows more popular. When tragedy strikes, it’s a two-mile hike out to the nearest pay phone, then an hour drive for rescue workers to get out to the trailhead from Sweet Home, and even longer for them to get to the pool itself.

Sweet Home Firefighter Justin Weld said cliff-jumping injuries are the most common at Blue Pool.

“It’s about 50 feet down, and it drops down and there’s another cliff. And so what happens is they’ll jump or they’ll slip. They’ll hit that bottom cliff, and then they’ll fall into the water,” he said.

Injuries often involve neck or head trauma, but also hypothermia, due to the extreme cold of the water.

Ward has had to travel out to Tamolitch Falls/Blue Pool for rescues eight or nine times in the past three years. The hike is on the outskirts of the boundaries of the SHFAD tax district, which is why it is the primary agency that responds to these calls.

Ward wants hikers to know what they’re getting into before they go. Signs are posted at the trailhead, but there’s nothing at the pool itself.

“There’s no signs. There’s no guardrails. I mean, it would be nice if there was,” Ward said, adding that he wishes there were.

“There’s no ‘Danger: Cliff’ and there’s no ‘Danger: Do Not Jump.’ I mean, some people may think it’s just safe.”

Cross said there are signs posted at the trailhead, but they’re only in English and aren’t in very big font sizes. Many visitors to the area are international, so they may be particularly uninformed about the hike.

On a hot Sunday in early August, a reporter witnessed at least four cliff jumpers leap from 30 to 50 feet into the cold pool. Two of them, Kris Gonzales, 28, and Shyla Hedglin, 25, found out about the hike after seeing videos of it on Tik Tok.

They visited from the Triangle Lake area and said it’s even more beautiful in person. Gonzales jumped off the cliff first, then Hedglin followed a few minutes later with his encouragement.

“You’re so cold you feel like your bones are shaking,” she said.

“I got instant shock,” Gonzales added. “That’s probably why I got some in my throat.”

Asked if they would jump in again, Gonzales said he would, but Hedglin said “it’s too cold.”

Cross said the rescue numbers out at Blue Pool are pretty low, considering the sheer quantity of people out on the trail. He also said some calls aren’t related to cliff jumping.

“One of the serious ones we had this year, he was climbing up the rocks and fell backwards, so it’s not all necessarily cliff jumping,” Cross said.

He added that signs aren’t necessarily part of the plan for the future of the trail because “it’s a wild, scenic river and a place of beauty,” so the Forest Service doesn’t necessarily want to spoil the beauty of the environment there.

Long Trip In and Out

Rescue missions out to Blue Pool are quite the endeavor.

Call-outs to Blue Pool take about six hours in total, and often involve up to nine different agencies.

Firefighters from state and federal agencies often join the rescues, along with Linn County Sheriff’s Office Search and Rescue members, LifeFlight airborne ambulances, and the Coast Guard. A rescue on July 19 even involved rescuers from Deschutes County, Ward said.

The rescues happen often enough that the crews from different agencies are starting to know each other on a first-name basis, he added.

Until a few years ago, Blue Pool wasn’t Sweet Home Fire’s responsibility. The prior fire chief in town had a mutual aid agreement with the previous fire chief in Sisters, and Sisters Fire, which is located about 38 miles from Blue Pool, would handle rescues there because it’s closer to its fire station.

But a few years ago, Sisters decided to change the agreement, so Blue Pool is Sweet Home’s responsibility now. There was an adjustment period, Ward said, which involved buying a lot of equipment for that style of rescue, but “now we’re pretty well oiled when we go up there.”

The biggest piece of equipment necessary is a Stoke’s Wheel, a singular wheel that a backboard attaches to, which makes it easier to carry a patient over trails. The backboard can be attached to a basket so the victim can be lifted from the rocky shore to the clifftop, then they are transferred to the wheel.

“Then we don’t have to have 20 people to carry. We can have four or five people push them on this wheel,” Ward said.

Ward wants visitors to keep one thing in mind if they visit Blue Pool: “Help is two hours away. So if you get hurt out there, expect to lie there for two hours.”

Future of Blue Pool

The Forest Service is discussing some changes to the trailhead to accommodate the high volume of visitors, Cross said.

“We’re working on an environmental assessment to do a large parking area that will accommodate 75 to 100 cars, with a bathroom, with trail access.” There is also some discussion of building a bathroom closer to the pool along with a heli-spot for aerial transport.

The Forest Service has a $1.9 million federal highway grant for that project, and it will likely be in place by 2023, with planning in 2021 and construction in 2022.

Currently, the only permanent bathroom is by the parking lot, and it’s a composting toilet not rated for the high volume of visitors. A future park may see a bathroom closer to the pool as well, to prevent visitors from answering nature’s call out in the open.

“We have a huge problem in there about people going in there, leaving their garbage and their human waste unburied and exposed,” Cross said. Adding trash cans and bathrooms may prevent some of those problems and keep the area pristine, he said.

Gonzales, who jumped into the water on a hot day in August, recommends the hike to other visitors.

“It is a tight trail; you have to step aside at a couple spots. But I like wilderness trails like that.”

Hedglin said future improvements might be nice, especially since the trail is so worn down already. “Maybe making it bigger and more accessible is the next step,” she said.

The new parking lot would also allow the Forest Service to charge visitors, which would help pay for some of the needed cleaning and garbage services, Cross said. It would also help with rescues to have a USFS staff member available at the trailhead.

“We’re continually re-evaluating how to make that place safer.”

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