Along the banks of the mighty Klamath River in far northern California rests a sleepy mountain town. Steeped in history, fraught with lawlessness, altered by industry, and even haunted by the legend of Bigfoot himself, the oddly-named settlement of Happy Camp has beckoned eclectic groups of miners, adventurers, and mysterious lone wolves throughout its tumultuous history.
Located in proximity to nothing—the closest city of Yreka is over 60 miles and several hours away—and surrounded by the vast, rugged wilderness of the Klamath Mountains, Happy Camp remains one of the Pacific Northwest’s final frontiers. “The Heart of the Klamath” is aptly named. Situated on a large bar—an elevated plain of sediment—on the serpentine course of the 263-mile long Klamath River, this town of just over 1,000 people is nestled in the northwestern reaches of the 1.7-million acre Klamath National Forest. Its remote location and topographic isolation have gleefully worked in tandem to help it remain one of California’s best kept secrets.
With a struggling economy, seasonal forest fires, and isolation from many major services, Happy Camp is a rugged town with a strong survival ethic. Its economic profile is one dominated by outdoor recreation and the United States Forest Service, which maintains a regional ranger district and wildfire work crew headquarters in town. And it’s absolutely perfect for adventuring. Hardy explorers with a knack for self-sufficiency who prefer to trek off the beaten path will find just about everything to do in this town with seemingly nothing to do. Easy access to its pristine wilderness makes Happy Camp a hidden hub for backpacking, peak bagging, paddling, fishing, mountain biking, camping, and, yes, even Bigfoot hunting.
Happy Camp wasn’t always tiny, nor was it always happy—the town has experienced boom-and-bust in a frantic cycle befitting of its Wild West aura and roughneck way of life.
Although the area was settled by Westerners in the mid-1800s, the indigenous peoples of the Karuk Tribe called the Klamath River home and subsisted on its legendary salmon runs long before the recorded history of white men. Long before it became an incorporated town, the swath of scattered California Gold Rush camps was known as Murderer’s Bar due to infighting over gold claims and cultural clashes between miners and the Karuk.
A Not-So-Happy Camp
Several theories explain the bipolar switch from Murderer’s Bar to Happy Camp. One of the more detailed accounts states that Jack Titus named the mining camp in honor of his partner, James Camp, who, upon arriving to the Klamath, proclaimed that it was “the happiest day in my life.” According to a history of the area by local historian Gail Jenner, a party of miners simply proclaimed that the area’s prospects looked promising and declared their choice of settlement to be a “happy camp.” Some modern day locals will tell you that incessant crime and violence among miners ceased overnight when a massive gold vein was discovered, producing enough gold for every miner to strike it rich. The accounts conjure images of Spaghetti Western saloon brawls where mustachioed bandits pause, mid-punch, and began to hug each other as gold coins plink down on tables covered in frothy beer mugs.
The region’s next big movement picked up steam in 1941, during the calm before the storm of World War II. Fed up with environmental restrictions from state governments in Salem and Sacramento, disgruntled citizens of southern Oregon and northern California organized in the name of statehood. Banding together under symbolic rule of their own unofficial government, the rogues representing the southernmost Oregon and northernmost California counties aimed to secede and become the 51st state—the State of Jefferson. Just ten days after supporters staged an intimidating road block on the CA-OR border, Japan bombed Pearl Harbor and national attention shifted toward unification and the war effort.
Although the movement was effectively silenced, supporters of the State of Jefferson still exist, and the green flag bearing a yellow gold pan with a double X is noticeable in and around Happy Camp. Souvenir hunters should keep an eye out for State of Jefferson T-shirts available around the area—these are sure to spark conversation anywhere you go. The road north from Happy Camp to Oregon that climbs over Grayback Pass was named the State of Jefferson Scenic Byway to commemorate the movement. The road, which is the most direct way to access the Smith River and many trailheads of the Siskiyou Wilderness, is worth a drive, and a pull-off with interpretive signage detailing the political history provides an epic view of the Klamath and Marble mountain ranges to the south.
Despite the bust of the California Gold Rush, Happy Camp continued to grow as a logging town throughout the 1900s. With millions of acres of old growth forest, loggers worked at a frantic pace to profit from the seemingly endless stock of timber. The town saw its heyday during the logging boom of the 1970s and 80s, when the population hovered around 2,500 and supported four saw mills that produced nearly 50 million board-feet of timber per year. According to the USFS River Ranger Dave Payne, who has paddled the Klamath for over 30 years, Happy Camp was a hoppin’ place with a handful of successful enterprises and a funky disco bar.
But, as is often the case with any extractive boom, the bust soon followed. When the spotted owl was listed as an endangered species in the mid-1980s, and an anemic 10% of old growth forest remained, a logging moratorium effectively signaled the end of Happy Camp’s happy days. The industry disappeared overnight, and the town’s population dwindled to its current state, taking the local economy with it.
The last sawmill shut down in 1994, and Happy Camp was a town divided. Miners and loggers clashed with environmentalists, and over half of the town’s households were on some form of public assistance. In the wake of the timber industry, gold mining saw a resurgence. Controversial in nature and rarely producing real economic benefit for anyone but the claim owners, gold mining on the Klamath River involved suction dredging—removing material from the riverbed, sifting for gold flakes and nuggets, and depositing the detritus in tailings along the river bank. This practice proved to be devastating to fisheries, and was halted by a 2009 moratorium put in place by Governor Arnold Schwarzenegger.
What remains in Happy Camp? Not much, which is exactly why you should go. A grocery store, gas station, hotel, convenience store, saloon, café, pizza restaurant, and basic services like auto parts and a bank have survived tough times. Interestingly, a thriving arts scene exists, supported by a tight-knit band of environmentalists, hippies, and back-to-the-landers. The Klamath-Siskiyou Art Center is housed in a converted mechanic’s garage painted with salmon in emerald water, and proudly boasts a giant metal Bigfoot sculpture in the parking lot. The Karuk Tribe has maintained its tribal headquarters in Happy Camp, and has been at odds, in one way or another, with white settlers since their arrival during the California Gold Rush.
Adventure á La Carte
While Happy Camp is certainly not a tourist trap, the land surrounding it is reason enough to earn it a spot on your bucket list. It’s the gateway to a wondrous wilderness where old growth stands of a pine, fir, and cedar tower over twisty trails traversing steep slopes and crystal clear mountain streams.
Happy Camp is situated on the Klamath River about halfway down a fantastic whitewater stretch that’s ideal for multi-day packrafting trips. Running from the Tree of Heaven put-in all the way down to the mandatory takeout above Ishi Pishi Falls—a class VI drop that’s also the spiritual center of the Karuk world—over 100 miles of rapids and long, calm pools await adventurous paddlers. Most day trippers put on the Klamath right in Happy Camp at Indian Creek and run the stellar class III section to the Coon Creek take-out, including the Rattlesnake (III) and Dragon’s Tooth (IV) rapids, and a truly adventurous hike up Ukonom Creek to Ukonom Falls.
The true gems of the region, however, are the tributaries that flow into the Klamath—gorgeous emerald waters fill deep swimming holes carved through granite and schist where swimmers can see pebbles and fish meters below the surface. The best swimming holes are found on Elk Creek, on Dillon Creek just behind the Dillon Creek Campground, and along Clear Creek a mile or so down from the No Mans Trailhead.
Also known as the “Steelhead Capital of the World”, Happy Camp is a major destination for anglers. Whether casting with a spin reel or a fly rod, the deep pools of the Klamath and over 100 mountain lakes offer plenty of places to drop your line.
Because of the region’s rugged and remote nature, backpackers will find solace and solitude along the massive pine forests, rocky ridges, and alpine meadows of the Klamath Mountains. Highway 96 and the Forest Service roads that shoot up the mountainsides like veins offer amazing access to a wealth of trailheads. Hikers and backpackers can easily embark on multi-day outings in the Siskiyou and Marble Mountain Wilderness areas, providing access to over 400,000 combined acres of pristine wild lands.
Located entirely within the Klamath National Forest, the Marble Mountain Wilderness is the crown jewel of the Klamath. Craggy peaks of red and gray limestone and metamorphic rock give the range its name and a marbled appearance, and even offer entrance to the Bigfoot Cave—the ninth-deepest cave in America. The Pacific Crest Trail cuts through 32 miles of the Marble Mountain Wilderness, passing just below the 7,442-foot glacially-scoured summit of Black Marble Mountain. With elevations ranging from 400 feet to the 8,299-foot summit of Boulder Peak, peak baggers will have plenty of relief to explore. A lifetime’s worth of lakes—89 to be exact—and plenty of trout provide primitive relaxation for anglers and swimmers, so don’t forget your fly rod.
Primitive and staffed campgrounds are plentiful, meaning you’ll rarely ever have to worry about a campground being full. Bust out the two-burner stove and your biggest tent for excellent car camping in Curly Jack, Dillon Creek, or Sulphur Springs campgrounds. Cruise up the State of Jefferson Scenic Byway and set up shop at Kelly Lake, the closest mountain lake to Happy Camp, and the easiest way to access the Siskiyou Wilderness.
Sure, Happy Camp doesn’t have much to offer those looking for luxury amenities, restaurants, or nightlife, but that’s precisely what makes it perfect for adventurers seeking wilderness immersion with a pioneering vibe. While most people have never heard of Happy Camp, those who have spent time on the Klamath’s frothy rapids and have hiked among its old growth forests join the cult-like ranks of the Bigfoot-obsessed. So stock up on supplies, grab your maps, and head into the Heart of the Klamath. You’re sure to become a Happy Camper.