Reflections on the Eagle Creek Fire

This was originally written while camping in the gorge this past May.

With a spark smelling of sulfur, the fuse caught fire quickly sizzling closer to explosion. A soft lob an the firecracker turned end over end through the air - arcing slowly down the hillside landing in brown grass dried by the summer’s heat; followed by a cracking pop. Laughter filtered down from above. Another sulfur spark, another lob, another cracking pop in brown grass. The laughter fades into the distance as a tendril of smoke snaked upward from the grass.

By day’s end, the trail above was closed and a long night awaited 150 day hikers trapped by the growing flame. Forty-eight hours later the Eagle Creek fire engulfed the canyon and joined the Indian Creek fire already burning threatening homes and businesses, popular recreation areas, and historic structures. It took nearly 3 months to fully contain and, in that time, jumped the Columbia River to burn acreage in Washington. In the end, 50,000 acres burned, 8 trails were severely damaged, 1 woman lost her home, and the historic highway is closed until further notice.

It was a gut punch the first time I saw the barren cliffs and blackened trees as I drove along I-84. Where I expected to see green & yellow lichens decorating the basalt walls, the was only grey. Blackened skeletal remains of vine maple haunted the forest floor. The young man who threw the firecrackers to entertain his friends, the firecrackers that started the fire had been ordered earlier in the week to pay 36.6 million in restitution as well as 1920 hours of community service and to write letters of apology to everyone immediately affected by his actions – including the woman who lost her home.

Would the citizenry ever see payment for the destruction of a beloved wilderness are? Time will tell and it’s not a question I want to ponder right now. The damage is done and no amount of desire for vengeance will repair the damage. I am here to camp and share time with friends – something I have done for the past 9 years since leaving my husband. It has become an annual pilgrimage of renewal, to breathe in the forest air and listen to the sounds of crashing water falling from high cliffs.

It was here in the little park named Ainsworth where I spoke long into the night with a man and his sons and remembered that life was still an option. It was here where I stood high above the river that I realized beauty will always find a way into my vision. It was here when I began my walk into my future.

Memories were created here, memorialized on camera. There were nights sleeping under the stars & mornings sitting in flowered meadows watching the sun rise. Birthdays and friendships celebrated with burgers, beer and ice cream. All my memories twirled in my head as I drove the highway to my weekend campsite in Ainsworth, including that long talk into the night.

The physical pain I felt as the blackened trees and barren ground passed by my car windows grew until I pulled into Ainsworth State Park. The little park of my hope remained flush with green. Just beyond its borders crept the specter of fire but within the park ferns unfurled, flowers bloomed, and trees flourished. I could look out my tent door to see the hope of possibility that this treasured land would choose life.

Do you know the story of me?

Hi my name is Heidi. Do you know my story? Not MY story but the story of a little girl living with her grandpa in the Swiss Alps who moves to the city to live with her aunt, uncle and her cousin Clara? It's a story I know all too well. When I was 7, I was given at 3 different holidays, the book entitled Heidi. How many of the same book does one child need?

As a refresher, Heidi lived with her grandpa in the mountains and spent her days playing in the meadows with her friend Peter and his herd of goats. Her aunt and uncle come to take her to the city where she can go to school and befriend her cousin Clara, a child suffering from illness so that she could not walk. In the city, Heidi becomes depressed so her aunt and uncle send her to visit her grandfather and Peter and allow Clara to go with her. While they are visiting, and avalanche closes the way and they are stranded in the mountains for months. When Clara's parents finally reach the cabin, fearing the worse after months without Drs and medicine they find that Clara is happy, healthy and walking. The power of nature on a person is nurturing and healing.

I may have been named Heidi but I am more like Clara. I was a sick child always dealing with stomach issues of nausea and cramping. Colds that turned quickly into bronchitis. And parents who started to believe the doctors when they couldn't figure out what was wrong with me so referred to me as lazy (I was faking ill to get out of school & chores), attention seeking, or hypochondriac.

They couldn't find anything wrong with me because they had no idea at the time where to look. Years later, I was diagnosed with a rare hereditary liver disease. Soon followed by a diagnosis of Celiac and other food sensitivities which contributed to the stomach problems. Then this past year on a deep blood test where they were looking for anything and everything (I was dizzy and weak while hiking which turned out to be anemia) they found I am missing a blood protein, an immunoglobulin that protects the mucus layer in your sinuses and lungs (hello, bronchitis).

I don't tell this story for you to feel sorry for me or indignant. But to share with you while I always felt like Clara in the story, I really was Heidi. With all my illnesses, the only place I felt healthy was hiking through the forests and along a wildflower-filled alpine meadow. I could forget about my health while in the mountains. Heidi in the story persuaded Clara to come to the mountains and she was healed. I persuade myself to camp and hike and I too am healed.

When I was 7, I hated being named Heidi. Now I know I am Heidi and Clara and whole.

Wilderness Symphony

Have you ever listened to the concert in a woodland meadow. In the evening when a stillness covers the world, night time creatures begin to stir, making their presence known by voicing their songs.

An owl hoots and is answered by another in the distance. They are the base to my evening's theme.

Soon they are joined by the chorus of frogs heralding spring or crickets warmed by the summer's day. Singing through the night hoping that their song entices a mate to come closer. I want to come closer, sit in the middle of the chorus and let their song lift my heart towards the sky.

The cicada's vibrating rhythm adds the soothing percussion to help you drift to sleep. My thoughts begin to wander into a dream, stepping lightly through the meadow fireflies lighting my way.

Just as I touch my sleep, an elk begins the haunting flute-like call bringing his mates to him and warding off competitors. Another across the meadow responds to his warning. A third lets them know that he too is there. Waiting. Yearning. Challenging. Their voices float over the meadow. Undulating. Caressing. One drops as another lifts.

I succumb to the lullaby and sleep to dream.

Going Solo

I often find inspiration on social media sites when my friends ask questions that really get me thinking. Near Christmas, a question was asked about holiday memories and I wrote a post about some of my favorite holiday memories.

Recently a female hiking friend of mine asked when any of her female outdoorsy friends decided to do their first solo backpack and why.

Good question.

I can tell you that for the longest time, heading into the backcountry by myself was a frightening proposition. A habit of reading true stories of people getting lost and dying while in the backcountry alone made the idea unfathomable to me. Why would anyone do that? You could get eaten by a mountain lion, mauled by a bear, fall of a cliff, freeze to death, get lost and starve, drown, break a leg . . . the list was endless of all the horrible and nasty ways you could meet you maker in the wilderness.

But then, well, isn't that the same list I had for everything that could happen to you in the wilderness anyway? What was the big deal? If I have an accident, it really didn't matter if I was going solo or I was with hiking buddies. And anyone who really knows me, knows that I'm pretty much an accident waiting to happen.

But you can't always live in fear, can you? In the years prior to my first solo backpack I had tried my hand at alpine scrambling, cross country skiing, kayaking, long distance backpacking and winter camping. All things I had been afraid of before but succeeded in accomplishing my goals. My next goal on the list - a solo backpack.

My number one recommendation for backpacking alone is to plan and plan well. I chose a destination I had been to a few times either with others or on day trips - Summerland Park in Mt Rainier National Park. Checking with rangers helped greatly with my planning - I knew the trail conditions, weather forecast and wildlife activity before I packed my pack.

My number two recommendation is to tell another person your exact route and itinerary. This is a good plan even if you're heading out with other people. My most reliable contact person lives in Montana and I email her the itinerary, route (trail names and numbers), which forest or park and the number to call in an emergency (the county sheriff's office - 911 does no good when you are a few counties away).

My first trip was just an over-nighter, but it led to longer trips filled with fantastic adventures. There's a sense I get when I'm out alone of self-reliance, wildness and community with nature.

Going into the wilderness alone isn't for every one, but if you dare to take the chance you will never regret it - unless you get eaten by a mountain lion.

Waterfalls & Wildflowers

I needed a break. I had received some not so great news earlier in the week which could have restricted my ability to head out to the Columbia River Gorge. But I was not to be deterred. I had been looking forward to this trip for over a month and the journey had been close to cancelled several times. The first group I was to head out with changed to the weekend prior, but I was already booked to go to Mt Baker. The second group ended up cancelling on me as they needed to finalize a few things in town. Then I was hit with a financial restraint. But I wanted to head to the gorge and explore a few waterfalls and trails I had never been on. So I packed up my tent, my camera & my determination to not let bad news spoil my life and drove south.

There are two times of the year that I love the gorge - Spring & Fall. I'd love to head down when the waterfalls are frozen, but have yet to make the time. Fall is great as sunlight glitters through the golden leaves of maples & alders, their brilliant colors reflected in the tumbling streams and rippling pools near the waterfalls. Spring brings great sprays of power of waterfalls gushing over the cliffs and wildflowers. Two of my favorite things to photograph, moving water and colorful flowers. It would be a perfect destination for me.

I took no time after setting up my tent in Ainsworth State Park before I grabbed my camera, put on the diopter filter and began playing with the flowers surrounding my camp: bleeding hearts, trillium, herb robert, spring beauty. I even focused in on leaf & fern details. I just wanted to immerse myself in my photography, forget about my troubles for a few days. My camp neighbor invited me to share his campfire with himself & his 3 sons as night approached and I gladly accepted. As the night wore on, I began spilling my troubles to him and began to feel relieved and thought his presence in my life for this one evening was no accident. 

The next morning he & his boys broke camp while began my day of hiking. I decided to head out from Ainsworth and connect with the Gorge trail which would lead me past several waterfalls and into Oneonta Gorge to Triple Fall - my destination for the morning. I hiked through sweet green light of the sun streaming through the new spring growth of the trees covering me, trillium & calypso orchids glittered beside the trail like jewels. I first came to Ponytail Falls - a horsetail fall spraying out over columnar basalt. A cave behind the falls gave me an interesting perspective to photograph. Oneonta Falls & Triple Falls were next but the smaller falls along the trail were just as marvelous. I spent all morning and most of the afternoon hiking, photographing, and chatting with the other hikers. All of us in good company enjoying the beginnings of spring in this place, filled with waterfalls & wildflowers.

A Little Fall Color

Hoh Rainforest, 10/23/09-10/25/09

When I was a young girl, my family would spend a week in the Hoh Rainforest every other summer. Some summers were wetter than others and I can remember hours spent inside our trailer reading as rain pattered on the roof and windows. There was something special in the rainforest. I knew it even then. So now when I want some time to feel the primal forces of life, I head to the rainforest. I love the rainforest in the summer, but began to appreciate what the forest had to offer in the autumn and will often take refuge in the cooler damper days of October.

This year I took a group of photographers with me to explore the old growth trees adorned with thick moss. We camped in the campground inside the park and woke to elk foraging through the undergrowth. A few of my fellow campers gathered at a safe distance to set up cameras as the elk settled in for a mid-morning nap. We took our leave of the dozing elk to meander through the Hall of Mosses nature trail.

We stopped to photograph a Pileated Woodpecker high on a snag. A stream then held our attention for a while before we started up the hill to the trail. Our group laughed and talked and photographed all morning and early afternoon. On our way out wee were stopped by the sighting of a Northern Pygmy Owl and we just couldn't seem to tear ourselves away. But we had to as the promise of a sunset at Ruby Beach was becoming more of a reality.

As we sat at Ruby Beach waiting for the sun to lower below the horizon we noticed our promise of color would be blocked by a fast approaching cloud bank. Not wanting to waste an opportunity, I began to photograph the waves as they came up the beach. Their foam trails heading back out to sea excited me and the rest of the group had to pull me away for dinner.

The next morning, the elk had moved on and so would we - onto Sol Duc Falls and more moss-covered forest. Each photographer that had joined me on my outing to my corner of living forest came away with great memories, photos and stories.

Mesa Verde

10/9/09

The alcove was filled with a sort of revered silence, the sort you "hear" in a cathedral or museum. The ancient masonry seemed to echo the silence all around, hushing our voices into a whisper. It was hard to imagine a lively bustling world here - children running, laughing around their mothers who ground grain gossiping about the latest romances, men bringing in their latest hunting successes. That was hundreds of years ago. Now it was a small group of tourists speaking in hushed tones in deference to the spirits that seemed to be watching us.

A little paranoid? Maybe. However, whenever I walk through an old ruin such as this, I have a sense that i am sharing this space with those who walked before. I first felt these other "souls" while visiting the castles of Germany. Late in the afternoon, when few people were around, I could almost sense the bustle of castle life around me.

here at Cliff Palace, early in the morning with only a dozen other tourists in our group, the effect was similar. Except there was no bustle just the answering tones of hushed voices in the shadows. It could have been a echo from our conversations, but I like the fantasy of a place so special it holds the essence of those who once lived there.

As the day wore on and we were surrounded by more tourists, the effect was lost. It wouldn't be lost on my memory - to have sensed the life a place once held.

Grand Canyon

10/4-10/5/09

My hands rested lightly on the rail. In front of me a hole deep and wide filled with the colors of the ages. I was here. On the edge. The most famous hole in the world. A gash so wide, so long it takes days to travel the rim or to float down the Colorado River that tirelessly carved this masterpiece that we know as the Grand Canyon. I couldn't stop the smile from my lips or the satisfaction in my heart.

I wanted to drink in the scene in front of me - the color, the lines, the light. The mesas and ridges faded off into the distance as the sun faded in the sky. This was a moment of discovery and I wanted it to last. And I wanted to share it. The light finally faded from the sky and we made our way to find camp - to set up the tent in the dark and make a dinner I was glad we couldn't really see. At least it went down all right.

Predawn and I found myself walking along the road to the lookout closed to all vehicles except the shuttle which hadn't started its run. I was there alone. Surely there must be someone else here in the early morning cold and wind. No one. I wandered along the rim to see where I wanted to be as the sun rose above the horizon. It was the alpenglow on the mesas that stopped me in my tracks. They seemed to vibrate with color and light. I alone was its witness. A discovery for myself, a discovery to share.

Later, after a visit to the Kolb Studio, we rode the shuttle to Hermit's rest for a hike back. Glimpses of the river below made us yearn for a trip of a lifetime. What I would give for that trip. To see the canyon from such a view. To explore the side canyons. To explore the ages.

We took a side trail, the trail that was replaced by the new wider and paved trail that was farther from the rim. We wanted to be closer, to see over the edge. An amazing experience to see down into the canyon while hanging onto a tree clinging to the edge - your only support from falling in. Then below us a fox darted along the edge. Something we would never had seen if we had stayed on the paved trail. He darted into a crevasse then back out and around the corner. Now that was a great little experience.

As we soaked in the day's experience over lunch, a large dark shaped floated on the winds just above the canyon rim. A condor. How great! Condors drifting on the canyon's currents. I about jumped out of my seat to run for that shot. We saw them after lunch basking in the warmth of the sun, wings outstretched just below us. I was ready to stay longer, but our whirlwind trip spurred us on.

Zion

10/4/09

I like Zion, but feel as if I hardly know her. What can a person expect if you never make the time. If you want someone to be your best friend, you don't stop to chat for a few seconds as you're moving on to somewhere else. You want to make the time, have a cup of coffee, go shopping, find the secrets and the love between you and your new friend. I haven't made the time to make friends with Zion . . . not yet.

We got in late after Cedar Breaks with the intention to stay all morning, hike through the narrows and get to know this beloved park better. It was a temperamental park we got to know. Winds thrashed through the canyon as I imagined a flash flood would - rattling leaves, bending trees, lifting sand into the air and carrying it along. Above us, the clouds raced across the sky, imitating my own history of stopping by to say hi and then moving on without a look back.

It would be Zion's wind that would make us leave a little earlier than had planned. It wasn't Zion's fault. She just wanted to let me know there is more to her than what I've allowed myself to know. Our hike up along the Virgin River although enjoyable, was wrought with efforts to keep my camera clean and dirt out of my eyes. During a short walk along a more protected area we came across several deer grazing in the trees. A pleasant surprise, especially after seeing a couple of wild turkeys earlier during our ride on the shuttle. Just one of those little secrets I so needed to know.

Driving out from the valley to the upper reaches of Zion, we'd see little arroyos running off along the side of the road and we had to fight the urge to stop to explore them. Again, I had somewhere else to go. Some other place calling. A trip ahead that needed to be finished. When will I make the time to make Zion the trip and not another pace? Soon, as I would love to have Zion as a friend,to be able to stop and have a cup of coffee and learn her secrets.

Cedar Breaks

10/3/09

I was quiet here. No sound except the crunch of leaves under my feet, the twitter of small birds and the wind through the trees. It was easy to lose myself in the solitude. No-one was here. We had nodded at a few people at the overlooks, watched as kids finished their Jr Ranger badges with one of only two rangers on duty at the visitor center. But it was late, in the day and in the year. A beautiful place such as Cedar Breaks must attract attention during the height of tourist season. Right now I was enjoying the fact that tourist season was definitely over.

A break in the trees beckoned me closer. I gingerly stepped to the edge of the amphitheater walls to admire the sandstone colors and formations spreading out below my toes. Clouds raced overhead hurried along by autumn winds carrying the cold of winter. The "canyon" or amphitheater of Cedar Breaks has eroded over the centuries from the same formation that has given us Bryce Canyon. They are sister canyons; Bryce faces east, Cedar Breaks faces west. Both are breathtaking. But I fear Cedar Breaks does not get the attention her more famous sister gets just a few miles away. Standing on the edge of the cliff right then, I was selfishly happy for that.

Thinking of Michael waiting for me in the car, I turned to continue along the trail the sun at my back. I knew he'd be napping, but the shadows were getting long and I didn't want to give him undue worries. As the trail turned up the hill away from the rim, I stopped to admire the autumn forest with it's browns and golds and spotted my first bit company of company on my journey - a young stag resting at the base of a tree. I said hello, he chewed. I thanked him for the photo opportunity, he watched me leave.

The pond was there at the top of the hill - a pretty little tarn filled with algae and reflections. I stopped to contemplate the color of light bouncing from the leafless trees to the pond to me. The sounds around didn't change; the wind rattled the high limbs of the trees around the pond as I left, my feet stepping on the dried undergrowth fallen across the trail. My heart jumped when my footsteps multiplied off to my right. I looked up the hill to see a pair of doe eyes staring back at me. We had startled each other. I excused myself and walked up the trail a few yards before turning around to watch as she and her fawn came out to the meadow.

Alone again on the trail, my spirits rose with the knowledge I alone saw these beauties. The last little bit of the trail passed before I was ready for it to end. I met Michael in the parking lot as the sun started to make its last dash to the horizon. Sure enough he had been napping, but that's what vacation is for. We drove to the northern overlook for sunset. Unprotected by a ridge as I had been on the trail, the wind was bitter and cold and sent me flying as the clouds back to the warmth of the car.

Fall Road Trip 2009

Four Corners, 10/2-10/9/09

There is a fabled land of strange yet beautiful landscapes. A place I visit every so often. Not nearly enough. Each image reminds me of what I love about the southwest and why I desire to return. I come from a land that is green and moist. I dream of a land that is brown and dry. The grass is always greener? For me it's either brown I desire or no grass at all.

Michael & I decided to hit a few places on this road trip that were either old favorites or something one or the both of us had never seen. Makes for a long list and an exhaustive trip, so we slimmed it down a bit and still almost tried to put too much in to our trip. We ended up cutting a few things out along the way and added a special place or two.

Read on and you'll visit four amazing states and places that mark them as extra special.

Around the Volcano

MSH Road Trip, 9/26/-9/27/09

I had been needing to collect a few images from a few of my favorite places in Washington for a project at work. This late in the season, heading to the North Cascades was out of the question - access would be limited. My next choice, Mt St Helens would be perfect for such a weekend. Although as we were heading out, what kind of weekend we weren't sure of for clouds obscured the hoped for clear autumn skies.

We rolled into Silver Lake in the late morning only to have the mountain view I was wanting hidden behind a layer of grey. Disappointed and losing faith in the weather, we quickly adjusted our plans and moved to the south side of the mountain not really expecting much. However, the farther we drove south, the clearer the skies became and when we swung around to the south side of the volcano blue skies with small wisps of clouds framed Mt St Helens. I was elated.

I wanted to stop at the Lahar Viewpoint and Ape Canyon. The trail through Ape Canyon had been closed since the 2006 floods but with diligent crews, some of them finishing up as I hiked, the trail re-opened with a bit of fanfare that same day. We later rested at Lahar Viewpoint and had lunch. Olympia & Zillah sniffing the elk tracks or begging some chips from us. We drove away from this area, happy with the images collected. Our next stops would be along the road to Windy Ridge.

I had not planned on being here in the afternoon as the sun would be in the wrong place for the best light. But I made do with what I had - grabbing a few shots here and there. Finally the sun began to set but the hoped for glorious sky would not be happening. The clouds that hovered to the west blocked much of the light show. We camped near Windy Ridge that night in hopes the sunrise would give us something better. The color may not have been the best, but the wildlife but on a concert for us. Elk just a few hundred feet away bugled and whistled. Beyond them in the valley could be heard coyotes and owls. Michael & I stood alone on the viewpoint soaking up the experience.

On our way home, we decided to drive a road neither of us had been on and found a pretty lake that the Forest Service is allowing to rehabilitate itself from the 1980 eruption. Later we passed a waterfall tucked away from the road. Its waters tumbling down the slope to a deep crystal pool. One last stop at Mt Rainier's Grove of the Patriarchs rounded out our whirlwind tour of Washington's most active volcano.

Beachy Keen

Shi Shi Beach, 9/19/09-9/20/09, 8 miles, 50 elevation

Remoteness. Very few beaches in America offer this kind of remoteness. Yet even on a beautiful summer day Shi Shi Beach can be extremely crowded. Wait until after Labor Day when the crowds lessen and the sun highlights the sea stacks with a beautiful light.

I took a group of photographers out to the south end of the beach called Point of Arches at the end of September. I wanted to be there when the sun would pass through a certain arch. I had yet to capture this magical moment, so wanted another try. I began to worry as we drove out that we may not see the sun at all. But the clouds started to break up as we hiked the short trail out to the beach. The sun warmed our faces during our beach walk - the trail drops us off at the north end of the beach and it's another 2 miles to Point of Arches. We passed a few other campsites along the way. Point of Arches was empty - perfect.

Once we set up camp, we all separated to explore the beach, sea stacks and tide pools. We shared ideas and pointed out great photo ops finally pulling ourselves away from our activity once the sun was down & we were ready for dinner. A campfire was built and we sat around sharing stories & laughter. Interspersed with our stories moments of silence as we stopped to gaze at the stars above us, jewels in the night sky. A few campfires along the beach seemed to reflect the show in the sky.

The next morning, the air gleamed fresh. We quickly ate breakfast before grabbing our cameras to take advantage of the marvelous morning light. It was a chore to tear ourselves away to break camp and get to the north end of the beach before we lost the light. We made it though and got a few more pictures before heading back home.

ZIIIIIIIIIIP!!!!

Vancouver Island, 6/13-6/15/09

We took 3 days off from work to take a little backpacking trip. However, this early in the season and Michael's propensity towards alpine hikes we could really find a place to go. We could have done a nice river hike in the Olympics. I looked at Oregon. Montana was still too snowy. What we ended up deciding on was a road trip on Vancouver Island. Explore as much of the island in three days with enough time for me to take pictures.

Taking the 1st ferry out of Port Angeles, we arrived in Victoria early enough for a relaxing drive through town and out Highway 1. With the island so rugged on the West Coast, the main highway is on the East Side. But so much of what we wanted to see was along the West Coast, so we'd have to zigzag back & forth. During our weekend we would see Bamfield, Uclulet, and Tofino. We'd spend a day in Stathcona Park and an evening camping in a marina with Blue Herons, Bald Eagles, and Sea Lions.

Day 3 found us zipping through the treetops on a zip-line tour, playing tourist in Victoria, and planning our next trip. A lovely trip full of new and exciting places, imaginations and dreams.

Our Little Corner of the Planet

Washington Coastal Clean-up, 4/18/09

Another Earth Day and another beach clean-up. This year a few more of my co-workers joined us at Kalaloch for a fun day of taking care of our little corner of the planet. A couple of years ago Discover Your Northwest teamed up with Olympia National Park and a few other organizations to create the Washington Clean Coast Alliance to rid Washington's beaches of the marine debris that washes ashore every year.

It only takes everyone making small contributions to do our parts to take care of our little corners of the world.

To learn more go to the Alliance's website: http://www.coastsavers.org/index.html

Winter Storm Advisory

4/4/09

The radio warned throughout the day that a winter storm was coming. And it hit Olympia and I as we hiked the rim trail. How bad it would get would only be discovered in the morning.

Wind buffeted our tent all through the night, even though the forecast was that the winds and storm would subside by midnight. To sty warm, I stuffed several hand-warmers into my sleeping bag and curled up with Olympia, covering her with the extra blanket I had brought along. Occasionally during the night I would wake up to snow drifting through the bug mesh - blown under the rainfly by the winds. We would awake to a desert winter wonderland.

The winds had not stopped at midnight, and with all the blowing snow I wasn't certain that the snow had stopped falling. I packed up as fast as I could, but first had to empty my boots of snow that I had left in the vestibule of the tent. Both the tent and rainfly were coated with snow. Six inch drifts formed against the tent and the tires of the car. I had to stomp around in the snow to find Olympia's water dish buried.

Our drive out was eventful. Winds shoved snow into drifts in the road. The bumper of the Subaru played snow plow through the drifts. The wind tried pushing the car around. And even in all this misery, the Moab Marathon was about to begin as I drove past the starting line.

Next year I'm going at the end of April.

2nd Stop - Bruneau Sand Dunes

3/30/09

I had driven through most of the night and snow storms in the mountains of Idaho - a little hairy at 2am when I was practically the only one travelling on the highway. After sleeping in the car in Riggins, we were off again heading to Bruneau Sand Dunes near Mountain Home. Winter was still in existence in the mountains but spring seemed to be right around the corner in the valleys. At Bruneau it seemed as if spring was being swept in by the wind.

Setting up my tent was an exercise in creativity as I sorted out the pieces and chased down stray bits as they darted across the campground. Finally, I staked down the ground cloth and tent and got the poles positioned. Everything after that was fairly easy. With the tent set up, Olympia and I went on a hike along the lake and through one of the smaller dunes. One of the reasons I like Bruneau so much is the sense of solitude that can be experienced as you walk though the dunes large and small. Although people were having a picnic in the sand I felt as if I had the place to myself.

Coots swam through the water, skimming just under the surface for algae. Wind kicked up the loose sand carrying it across the surface in a fine dust. Jack rabbits darted from shrub to shrub. A hawk floated on thermals overhead. Birds flitted through the winter-bare trees. All of a sudden, Olympia stood at attention hackles raised a low grumble escaped from the throat - I steeled myself for what I believed would have to be a dog tackle before she chased off after some poor critter. Instead Olympia darted after a tumbleweed. Yes, my big brave puppy felt the need to protect me from a vicious attack of tumbleweeds.

After a beautiful sunset, we settled into the tent for the evening serenaded to sleep by an owl or two.

Washington's Yosemite

Methow Valley Exploration 10/10/08-10/13/08

Normally, Michael and I take our vacation the week prior to Columbus Day. We load up the car and set out to explore the western US and Canada, but not this year. Instead we took a week to finish off the Wonderland Trail. So when my travel bug hit just as the calendar rolled from Sept to Oct we set off to explore a portion of Washington we had only driven through and always wanted to see more of - The Methow Valley.

Friends had been telling me for years the wonders of the Methow and I believed them. I just never got a chance to hike or ski or camp in this marvelous place. Michael was so excited to get going that the car was packed by the time I got home Friday night and we decided to drive all night until we reached Winthrop. Luckily, Pearrygin State Park was still open and we set up camp in the moonlight along the banks of the lake. Although we didn't get to sleep until well after 1am, I was up at sunrise to catch the 1st glimmer of the day on the lake.

For the rest of the 3 day weekend, we drove along forest roads to scenic viewpoints and trails to be noted at a later date. We drove through stands of burned out trees from the 30-mile fire and stopped by the memorial honoring the fire fighters who tragically died fighting the blaze. We watched as hunters drove past looking for deer and then deer walk across the road as they passed. Above all, we admired the land of the Methow and Chewuch rivers.

All of the Colors of the Earth

John Day Fossil Beds, 5/23-5/26/08

Memorial Day Weekend found me leading a group of Mountaineer Photo Geeks to the Painted Hills in Eastern Oregon. The Painted Hills are one of three units that make up the John Day Fossil Beds national Monument. Located along the John Day River, the monument contains the highest concentration of mammalian fossils in North America. In fact several species were discovered among the fossil beds since their discovery in the 1800's.

Each unit is special in it's own right, but admittedly the Painted Hills unit is the most spectacular to behold. The claystone that make up the hills contain several different mineral deposits that create yellow, gold and red bands across the hills with black spots. As the are clay erosion takes its toll as rivulets of water carry the particles of clay away to make smooth mounds and contours of what's left behind.

The best viewing is in the afternoon when the sun has that late afternoon glow and the hills light up against the dark background of green hills and forests. But I had also heard the morning can be pretty spectacular too, so our first morning we watched as the sun rose behind clouds only to peak out once in a while to tease us with the saturated colors of the hills. We came back for the afternoon sun and were not displeased to find the clouds had mostly burned off - and the hills aglow with the afternoon sun.

Another day of colors and curves and I was ready to head home - overly saturated myself with the wonder.

The Wet Beach

Cape Disappointment, Spring Road Trip, 3/22/08

Olympia & I arrived at Cape Disappointment State Park just as the clouds started covering the sky from the horizon. I had been hoping to catch the last rays of day on the North Head Lighthouse. Tonight, that would not be. So upon arriving at the park I searched first for a suitable campsite and prepared for the possible precipitation.

Finding the perfect tent site was a bit tough - the stakes refused to go into the ground in my original spot so I instead moved the tent in between some trees. I might also be able to get a little extra protection from rain tucked in the trees as I was. But the tent was up and it was time to explore the beach.

Olympia's second favorite substance to run in is sand and she pulled against her leash as we made our way through the driftwood and dune grass. The beach was almost empty, so I let Olympia go to allow her the joy of running along in the sand. We made our way to the north end of the beach just below the lighthouse before heading back to camp, quietly rounding out our day.

The rain held off until after we were nicely tucked away in the tent. Although after a night of rain the trees didn't offer too much protection, my original tent placement would have placed me right in the middle of a puddle.