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.

An Early Season Hike

Barclay Lake 4/29/07 4 miles

To round out my weekend of hikes, I took my friend M.M. on a short but sweet hike to Barclay Lake. Only a scant 2 miles in to the lake with a minimal elevation gain it's a wonderful way to spend a quiet Sunday afternoon. Barclay Lake is overlooked in many hiking guides, but it's not to be missed.

I first discovered this little alpine gem nestled in thick forest when my father died. After a week of funeral preparations and mourning, I was ready for a hike. However Michael, worried about my physical endurance after such an ordeal, limited our outing to no more than 5 miles round trip and as flat as possible. I stumbled across Barclay Lake on the forest service website and thought it fit the bill perfectly. And in more than one way it did.

My father was one of my greatest inspirations when it came to both my love of photography and my love of the outdoors. A hike to a little lake nestled amongst the trees at the base of towering monoliths of the proposed Wild Sky Wilderness Area gave me time to reflect on what all dad had left me with. I left there with a renewed sense of where I wanted to be in life and the desire to accomplish my goals.

As M.M. is one of my best friends, I wanted to share this special hike with her on this April Sunday afternoon. We meandered through the woods, over and past blow-downs from the previous winter's storms, stopping to examine a few wildflowers and admire the lush greenery around us. After crossing Barclay Creek, it's only a short climb to the lake shore, almost hidden in the thick greenery. Snow lingered here still, but we made our way to a little log that over looked the lake. The clouds were lying low on the mountains so we weren't able to gaze on immense Barclay Mountain. But that didn't matter to us - we quietly sat on our log, eating cheese and crackers admiring the view, the silence, and each other's company. It wasn't until a few raindrops splattered on our faces that we packed up and head back out to the trail head.