Gnat Creek Trail
Clatsop State Forest
7.2 miles out and back / I did 3
Moderate (Length, some ups and downs for creeky knees)
Absolutely not (roots, uneven terrain)
4 (out of 4)
B+ (A to F)
Gnat Creek Trail offers a lush, peaceful hike filled with mossy forests, creekside paths, and just enough elevation changes to feel rewarding. Padme, my trail-loving companion, had a blast exploring the smells, water, and natural obstacles. I appreciated the quiet, the beauty, and the mental clarity the trail brought—despite a brief road crossing and a few signs of human carelessness. This hike reminded me how far I’ve come, both physically and mentally, especially in how I face challenges like challenging terrain.
Anywhere with smells and water is heaven for Padme. She really loves the freedom of our hikes—shoving her head into bushes, looking over outcroppings, and overseeing the goings-on of whatever her nose is telling her. On this trail, she had plenty of obstacles to climb over and duck under. She loves splashing around in the water and running ahead on the trail just to loop back and check that I’m still coming along at my slow human pace.
There were a few spots with easy water access, where she and I stepped off the trail so she could frolic in the shallows. The current was strong in some places that day, but there were calm, shallow pools too. At one point, she tried to scramble down a short, steep slope and quickly realized it wasn’t as easy as it looked. She hesitated, then wiggled her way back up toward me—something I’ve never seen her do before. She eventually pivoted and leapt up the incline. As always, I was ready to help if she needed me.
Gnat Creek Trail is dog-friendly, with signs indicating that dogs should be on leash. I’ve written before about how I decide when to let Padme off leash—whether there are people around, how good her recall is in the moment, and the general environment. On this trail, I felt comfortable letting her off leash most of the time, except in the parking lot or when we passed another hiker (which only happened once).
A few things to consider if you’re hiking with your dog:
The trail has some ups and downs in elevation, including areas with steep drop-offs near the water.
There are access points to the creek, but not all are easy to climb down or back up—watch your dog closely.
Padme listens to “be careful,” which has kept us out of trouble so far, but I never take her responsiveness for granted.
Bring water and waste bags—there are no facilities for either on the trail.
Gnat Creek Trail is beautiful. Yes, lots of trails are beautiful, and maybe it doesn’t take much to impress me out in the woods—but I’m okay with that. The trailhead is well-marked and begins with an incline. Be not afraid, all ye who enter here—it levels off into what feels like the frolicking grounds of elven queens.
The trail winds through trees in ways that feel magical—like walking into a cave or tunnel. For the first mile, you’re right beside Gnat Creek, with moss-covered trees, filtered sunlight, and a vibrant, quiet greenness that made me feel like I was in a storybook. Whoever cut this trail clearly understood how people want to feel while hiking: like they’re on an adventure… in the great American novel… or in Andor.
I don’t hike just for the exercise (though I like that part). I hike for the quiet, for the sound of birds, the sight of prey trails, the rushing water. Being out here helps me stop thinking the way I usually do. It lets me be present.
At around 1.5 miles, the trail crosses a road—that’s where Padme and I turned around. The crossing is part of why this trail doesn’t get an “A” from me. The road isn’t inside a park, and it felt wide and a bit too busy for my comfort, especially with a dog.
To be clear, I didn’t turn back because of the road. I turned back because I’ve been nursing an ankle, and the gentle elevation changes had started to aggravate it. On the day I picked this trail, I’d wanted a longer one—something over four miles. My longest hike so far is eight miles, and that had real elevation challenges. I’ve done plenty of six- and seven-mile hikes, but those have mostly been flat. And while flat can be fun, there’s something about the ups and downs—even minor ones—that make me feel stronger at the end.
I used to hate hills. I’d see one and just say no. Hills meant breathing hard, which meant feeling embarrassed. I thought I’d be the only one struggling, or that I wouldn’t be able to talk normally, which also felt shameful. I didn’t want people to see how unfit I felt, and that kept me from getting any fitter. I couldn’t imagine that others were breathing hard too. Even alone, I’d think those same thoughts.
But then I started taking testosterone. I have no hard data to prove a connection, just what I experienced—but around the time I started that hormone, something shifted. Suddenly, I wasn’t hearing those same critical thoughts. Or I heard them but didn’t care as much. I remember thinking “fuck it” a few times and just charging up hills without overthinking. When I noticed that change, I felt liberated.
I even wondered: Is this what guys feel like? Do they not frame physical effort as embarrassment? Do they just meet challenges and move through them? I know that can’t be true for every guy, but still—maybe testosterone helped that mindset click for me. In the end, it doesn’t really matter. I’m just grateful I worry less about hills now, and that I’m more open to being challenged.
At the start of the trail, near the campground, I saw a few signs of human mess—an instant noodle cup, some toilet paper strands. Nothing outrageous, but enough to be annoying. Please: leave no trace. Especially now, when budget cuts might be affecting the maintenance of the places we all love to hike.
