A Northwest Autumn

The skies are grey today. The onset of a northwest winter when it's darker more than light, the rain drizzles through the air and bright colors look dim.

It hasn't gotten to that yet - that will be near the end of January.

Now, the bright orange, red and yellow leaves on the trees add a colorful contrast to the grey sky.

They flutter and waft through the air, the leaves, to rest in the gutters and the occasional umbrella. In the mountains though, snowflakes are already starting to fall to cover the fall foliage in its winter coat.

Soon the color will be covered or gone and we will be left with grey.

That is winter in the northwest, but golden is what we see now.

The Road before You

It snowed recently in the Seattle area. When it did, I got up early and went for a walk with my new camera. Near my home is a wonderful pathway. On sunny days, it is often crowded with walkers, dogs, strollers and bicyclists. Today there were very few people out in the snow and chill.

As I walked, I stopped and photographed simple scenes of winter. And felt pretty special walking out in the snow with hardly anyone else around. A few tracks in the snow revealed that I was not the 1st to pass this way, plus a bicyclist had ridden along the trail at some point in the morning. What a hearty soul they were.

I took my time. I had nowhere to go except forward. So I kept going.

Then I looked down and realized the snow was unmarred by footprints. I would be the 1st to tread here. I would be walking in fresh snow. There's a thrill to walking in fresh snow - to go where no one has gone, to have this pristine world in front of you ready for your adventure.

I stopped to absorb the moment.

I would be making my own trail.

And I stopped again.

What a great metaphor.

I would be making my own trail, here as in life. I get to decide where I walk and where not to walk. Isn't that cool? As with this trail, as with my life and my photography. And yours too. You get to walk down your path and make it your own. You get to decide how to live your life. You get to choose what your photography will be.

No one can live your life for you, nor can they tell you how to live it. Neither can they tell you which direction to take your photography. You get to do that.

There is only 1 right path and that is for you to decide. It's often scary, we'd love to follow in someone else's footsteps to know we are going in the right direction. But ultimately the right direction is for us to choose.

Detours are ok, too. You can join and follow others along the way. Others will follow you. Ultimately, you will know how these events and experiences were beneficial to you and others. But again, that is for you to decide.

It's all about you.

Are you ready to walk into the fresh snow?

Vision in Delirium

When my boss called in with the flu at the beginning of the year, I should have gone immediately for my flu shot. But I put it off. I knew it was going around. And I knew it was a nasty one.

So this past week I spent my time either in bed or on the couch. Cancelled my great weekend plans. And daydreamed about all the wonderful places I had been and places to go.

I smiled at the memories of shared adventures with friends, knowing they are the adventure buddies I can count on for future travels.

The weekend prior to my bedridden week, 3 of my buddies & I decided to snowshoe to the Big Four Ice Caves along the Mountain Loop Highway. A popular destination in the summer as it's an easy day hike for families becomes a stunning snowshoe in the winter. The cliff area of the ice caves can be very dangerous - in recent years there have been several accidents and at least one death from avalanches falling even in the later summer months. But it's the avalanches that create the ice caves. And the popularity of area has not diminished even with the dangers.

Our plan was to snowshoe from where the road is closed to just beyond the bridge over the Stillaquamish River. The snow pack for the day was pretty stable, but this area can be highly unpredictable so we decided to stay in the trees and not head up into the plateau at the base of the cliff.

The day was gorgeous. Blue skies and freezing temps. We were bundled up against the cold but wearing sun screen & sunglasses - always a great combination on a winter day. I love seeing the bright white of ice and snow against the blue Washington skies.

The road travels along the river in the trees with glimpses of the mountain peaks around the valley. We stopped often for pictures and to chat and then started again as the cold seeped through our many layers of clothing. And it was COLD! The moisture in the air had frozen along the river and coated everything in a feathery layer of hoar frost. At times it looked fantastical.

After we stopped briefly at the picnic shelter for lunch, we started out for the river through a marsh area. If we thought the hoar frost along the river was fantastical, the hoar frost here was other-worldy. It spread out like fern fronds inches from the snow & branches. It was a vision worth remembering.

The open air and views, the snow and sky, the walk and friends all worthy of reminiscing and thinking forward

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.

1st stop - The Palouse

3/29/09

The forecast called for snow again over the weekend proving that spring was still far away, yet the vibrant colors in the flower stalls in the market prior to my departure rallied my hopes that spring would indeed be right around the corner. Furthering my hopes that spring would be quickly on its way, the drive over the pass to Spokane revealed more land as the snows receded, the ice in the waterfalls replaced by flowing water. Yet this morning we woke to snow falling on the hills of the Palouse - winter was refusing to release its hold on the northwest.

However, I had been looking for this up close look at the Palouse by people who lived in the area, I was not going to let it pass. We did pass planned photo-op after photo-op as the falling snow made distant views non-existent. At breakfast we were joined by a local farmer turned historian, Glen Leitz, who shared with us bits and pieces of the history of the Palouse. I always enjoy listening to oral history and this gentleman had a lot to tell, so much in fact that we had to leave before he even finished his stories.

We continued on our journey as the snows started slacking off so we were able to stop at more places - museums, barns, mills, churches and cemeteries. All unique in their photographic qualities. I began to realize I would need to come back for several days to truly capture this rare and beautiful place. Finally, the clouds started breaking apart in the late afternoon and the sun highlighted the hills in the distance. Just in time too, our final stop near sunset would be Steptoe Butte.

Never seeing Steptoe before, I was extremely excited as I drove up the winding road to the top. Each turn revealed more of the scenery - rolling hills touched with snow stretching in every direction. I decided to leave before sunset - eager to be on my way and hoping to be someplace really cool for sunset. I was in a gully at the best color, but a not too disappointed because I knew my trip had started off great - even if spring was reticent in its appearance.

An Unexpected Starlit Trip

Reflection Lakes, 3/22/09, 8 miles

It was supposed to be an easy afternoon snowshoeing. We were supposed to be back home by dinner. It was supposed to be an enjoyable scouting trip on a well known trail. But things don't always turn out how they're supposed to, especially in the outdoors.

Michael & I have been to Reflection Lakes several times during the winter and know the route well, so when our friends Heather & Dave asked if we would scout out the trail with them we happily agreed. A bad day snowshoeing is far better than a good day doing yard-work. Because of prior commitments, we didn't leave the windswept parking lot at Paradise until 2:30. But we weren't too concerned as we knew the afternoon was longer than the trail. Silly us.

We made it to the snow covered lake with plenty of time to spare by going up and over Mazama Ridge. Then after a stroll around the lake we decided to head back to the cars by way of the road. Even though there is a steep avalanche slope along the road, Michael & I have never had any trouble navigating past the slope. We also wanted to show Dave & Heather an alternative direction to take their group later.

Part way along the road, Heather realized she didn't have her camera any longer and must have dropped it back near the lake. Dave, our leader, gallantly went back to find it for her and said he would meet us not back where we could wait for him but at the cars thus splitting our group for the rest of the day. As we were all comfortable with each others skills, Michael & I didn't think we'd have problems doing just that. Once we saw the avalanche slope and it's steepness, we knew we'd never be able to traverse to the other side. We immediately turned around and started back he way we had come, hoping maybe we could catch up with Dave.

Once we got back to the lake though we knew we wouldn't catch up with him and stopped for a snack. However, Dave had taken off with the pack and Heather's extra food and water and equipment. Michael & I shared what we had, dug out our headlamps, sandwiched her between us and made our way back over Mazama Ridge. Then we had the decision of returning to Paradise by the trail or by the avalanche sloped road. Michael's legs were beginning to cramp - probably from the cold and dehydration - so we chose what we believed to be the gentler slope.

The day was fading fast and soon the wisdom of our choice was in question - avalanche after avalanche had obscured the path. I knew I needed to keep us going for turning around and heading the other way would take too long and put undue strain upon Michael. I kept trudging, following the intermittent ski tracks through the darkening twilight. The wind continued to blow obscuring those same tracks. I began to feel the pressure of getting us out safely through cold, avalanche slopes, and darkness.

Finally we followed the curve of the road over the creek at the head of Paradise Valley to find ruts in the snow. All of us breathed a communal sigh of relief. A light beacon shone through the wind swept snows guiding us home. Stars glistened in the velvety night sky as we crested the hill to the parking lot. Dave had gotten there hours before us asking for help when he realized we were far later than we should be. It was the rangers who gave our beacon.

Looking back, we were nervous but at least we were prepared - even the rangers remarked about that. But it was a good experience to have under my belt. And the stars were marvelous.

The Snows Fall

Blewett Pass, 3/8/09, 4 miles, 500 elevation

After a cold but fun weekend in Winthrop, Michael & I with our friends Dave & Heather, decided to stop at Blewett Pass for a quick snowshoe up the hill to see what we can see. We parked along the highway at the snowpark because the parking lot hadn't been plowed for a while, but that wouldn't deter us hardy snowshoeing folks.

Dave & Heather were testing out their new MSR snowshoes by traversing hills and climbing steep slopes. They were quite happy with the performance of these lighter weight snowshoes - they don't slip nearly as much as the larger Tubbs and Atlas snowshoes do. That's the main reason I love them, that and they are so light-weight.

The snow started falling almost immediately, a light pellety snow. We made our way past the creek and started climbing, hoping to reach the lookout 2 miles beyond. As we started our climb the snowflakes became larger and started falling more heavily, covering everything from trees to our hats. We began to blend in with our surroundings.

We never made it to the lookout, stopping about a 1/2 mile from the top to head back to the cars. A good thing really, if we had stayed out any longer than that our cars may have been just mounds along the highway. As it was, our footprints in the parking were completely covered.

A Natural Setting

Early Winters Creek, 3/7/09, 1 mile

On a recent trip to Winthrop with our friends Dave & Heather to photograph the balloonfest, we arranged a trip with a local naturalist along the Early Winters Creek near Mazama.

He showed us several types of plant life that sometimes goes un-noticed in the summer and is usually covered during the winter. Marten tracks could be seen hopping through the snow. We also followed some coyote tracks to a fresh (within the day) kill site.

He also gave us a nice lecture on the arrogance of man in trying to "correct" nature - the creek had been straightened out long ago with the thought that is would ease flooding. What was neglected was that the turns, eddies, and dams are needed for a healthy stream and healthy stream-life. To correct the correction new dams and log jams were built. More work than really needed to be done. If only we could learn to live with the cycles of nature, maybe we wouldn't need to "correct" nature at all.

Running around with a well-educated naturalist can be truly eye-opening.

Issaquah Alps

De Leo Wall, 2/23/08, 6 miles

Simply said, a bright sunny winter day needs to be hiked. I joined with the Mountaineers for a hike in the Issaquah Alps to DeLeo Wall on Cougar Mountain. The sun shone brightly and warmed the air slightly of the deepest of winter chills. Spring proved to be close as we passed shrubs with buds creating a golden green aura in the sunlight.

The Issaquah Alps encircle Issaquah on the southside of town. So close to Seattle and generally snowfree during the winter, they are a wonderful destination for early season hikes. There are 100's of miles of trails in the Alps that contain 3 mountains: Tiger, Squawk, and Cougar.

The trail starts at the Red Town Trailhead and follows through the rolling forest to climb up to a viewpoint overlooking the valley below from Mt Rainier to Seattle. On this day the view was stunning - Mt Rainier shone brightly in the distance and our group pointed out landmarks and details of the valley below.

We had a leisurely lunch in the sun-dappled woods before turning back along the lollipop loop to our cars.

Snow Geese on the Skagit

Skagit Valley 1/27/07

The Skagit Valley witnesses each winter an influx of birds from the northern reaches of the globe. First come the bald eagles searching for an abundant food supply of spawning salmon in the rivers and streams. They rest in the trees, on the lightposts, and in the crags of the cliff walls. Following the eagles are the Snow Geese and Trumpeter Swans, who come to feed in the grassy fields, fattening up for the long journey back to their nesting grounds. With flocks of bird watchers bringing up the rear, lining roads with their cameras and scopes. Every year I swear that I have enough pictures of Snow Geese and yet every year I head back up to the Skagit in hopes of witnessing a blast off, or getting that perfect shot of Trumpeter Swans and maybe even see a Bald Eagle close enough for a picture to keep.

This year Michael & I took our friend Michelle up to see the Snow Geese, a sight she had never seen before. You have to realize, the Snow Geese in the Skagit is a sight to see. Thousands of geese cover the fields, seeded for the birds, to create a moving carpet of white. The noise they create while grazing, honking, squawking, and just plain munching is an ever-present white noise too loud to tune out. Then there is lift off. When the geese feel threatened, they will blast off all at once rising like a linen sheet blowing in the breeze. There have been times when the wind current from their wings has buffeted me as if I were standing in Wyoming on a particularly windy day. And the commotion from that will leave your ears ringing well after you start heading home.

We arrived early – I was hoping for a fly-over as the geese journeyed from resting in the bay to the fields. Maybe it was the fog that wouldn’t rise of our timing, but the geese just wouldn’t come in off the water while we waited. Instead, we went to find the Trumpeter Swans, to no luck, they were hiding. We later found them hiding in plain sight in fields just off the highway as we sped past. So, back we went to the fields for the geese.

First, we traveled up one road when I saw a flock ahead. Good Luck! They were right beside the road! Michelle & Michael walked up the road a bit while I stayed near the head of the flock photographing geese as they landed near what they perceived to be the point of interest and possibly the better tasting grass. Our luck continued as a blast off occurred near where Michael & Michelle had wandered. We then drove down another road to another flock again right next to the road. How lucky could we be?

Around near lunch wee went back into Mount Vernon. And quite satisfied with our day head back home with a few pictures to keep.

Ranger Creek Snowshoe

11/24/06

As the rain pounded Western Washington throughout November, snow piled up in the mountains and beckoned us for a little snowshoe through the woods - work off some of that turkey from the day before. We took the puppies along as they love to romp in the snow and drove up hwy 410 towards Crystal Mountain.

The Ranger Creek area has several opportunities for recreation throughout the year, one of which is a nice large campground with an emergency airstrip nearby. The airstrip had once been used as an ATV area until the ground was torn up destroying elk habitat. Also, once the ATVers started plaing in the strip, they couldn't hear when a plane needed to land and tragedy did occur with a plane crashing for all the people playing below. The forest service did the only thing they could and forbade off-road vehicles from using the airstrip as a play area. There are still areas in the vicinity where they can play.

But on this day, silence is what greeted us as we stepped out into the freshly carpeted field. A few hardy folks were out camping in their RVs, although, they were keeping themselves warm in the comfort of propane heaters. We were pretty much alone and let the dogs loose for a good hardy romp. Only problem was the snow was deep - up to both dogs' chest (about 15 inches). Olympia, who has a vast experience with snow and snow being one of her favorite substances in the world did her best to plow right through. Pasco, being the wimpier of the two, decided the best way to deal with this frigid substance would be to take it in bounds. So ahead of us were our dogs, one happily trudging her way along and the other leaping over the snow only to plant himself chest deep with each landing. We hd to giggle at the sight.

Once we got to the end of the runway and rested a bit on a stump, we decided to head back toward the car through the woods. Hear the snow wasn't as deep, for it was all waiting in the branches to fall on an unsuspecting hiker ass they passed below. The dogs had no idea what hit them when the first avalanche hit us - this snow was falling in great clumps. They would shake off one batch of snow only to be hit by another immediately following. Michael & I didn't have it much better, showers of snow easily found their way down our necks. It was actually with a bit of relief when we reached the car.

To our surprise, a family had decided to camp where we had parked. Nice people. They were apologetic about setting up camp and encrouching on our parking spot. But to make up for it they made us some hot chocolate and shared their fire. Once we were warm inside and out, we bid them our thanks and farewells.