Bear Grass Everywhere

Island Lake, 7/4-7/5/09, 12 miles, 2000 elevation

I needed a backpack. Get out in nature, climb a mountain, sleep next to an alpine lake. It has been far too long. And a nice long holiday weekend is the perfect time for a getaway. And as we would be leading a hike to Island Lake the following weekend, our destination was set. What wasn't set was our trailhead. The winter storms over the past few years had left the forest road to our trail damaged almost to the point of no repair. I hope they will be able to fix the road, as this trail lead to one of my favorite late season hikes - Talapus and Ollalie Lakes. But an alternative trailhead would only add a mile to our trip each way on this trip. That was easy enough.

A steady climb through the forest greeted us as we started out on the first couple of miles. About 2 1/2 miles in, the trees opened up to a jaw-dropping view of the valley below us, Lake Ollalie glistening in the sun, Mt Rainier over-powering the sky. And beargrass filling every crevice in the rocks. It had been years since I had seen so much beargrass. Beargrass is cyclical in that a plant blooms every couple of years, some years they bloom in a high concentration. Looks as if this is the year for beargrass. I look forward to what the rest of the year has in store for me flower-wise. If it is even half as beautiful as this, I will be happy.

After the junction with Pratt Lake, we found ourselves almost lonely on the trail. Most hikers turned off to head to the more popular lake in the area. We prided ourselves in the idea that maybe we'd not have to share "our" lake with many people. Not so. We arrived at the lake just after the ranger and he mentioned we might be able to squeeze in somewhere but all the established sites were taken or snow covered and he was heading to Rainbow Lake for the night. We did find a place to squeeze in, and settled in for a relaxing afternoon by a lovely little alpine lake. Just what I needed to get the season off to a start.

Autumn Solitude, Part II

West Cady Ridge, 11/8/08, 8 miles, 2200 elevation

Talk about solitude. Michael & I took Zillah to West Cady Ridge in the new Wild Sky Wilderness and saw not another person - except for the two people in their car at the trail-head possibly wondering if they were going to brave the weather. I've mentioned this before, if you want solitude on a popular Washington trail, head out after September with the threat of rain.

On this day there was no threat. No the rain was a reality, but being prepared we zipped on our rain gear and started out on the trail. So wet was the day, a stream rushed down the hillside in the trail just after we passed the wilderness boundary. A little rain nor a little trail mud were going to deter us. A friend had mentioned this was on of his favorite hikes and we were bound and determined to discover why.

Steadily we climbed up the hill through thick forest with salal and ferns for undergrowth giving lush autumn nourishment to the dozens of varieties of mushrooms growing along the trail. We soon came to forest without much undergrowth and meandered on a traverse, climbing slowly and gently. Several bridges along this section were rather treacherous having twisted during their slow rot. Then the climb became steeper again but we were soon catching glimpses of the fabulous view - or what we could only image was the fabulous view. Clouds clung to the mountainsides obscuring everything in a grey blanket.

The rain had stopped and we found an outcropping for a quick lunch. We didn't want to stay long for fear of catching a chill. The sun peaked through the clouds every now and then, teasing us with a hope of warmth and mountain views, but quickly hid again behind the clouds. We noticed Zillah was shivering so packed up the lunch to head back down the hill. In my mind, I could understand why our friend would love this hike, but I am hoping to see it again soon when the views don't have to be imagined. Except then, we won't have the absolute solitude we experienced on this trip.