Heidi's Hotspots: Lake Crescent

There are some pretty spectacular lakes in the Northwest: Crater Lake, Lake Chelan, Stanley Lake. They are set in stunning mountain scenery and visited as destinations in their own right. Ranked right there with them is the gem of Lake Crescent.

Located in the northwestern corner of the Olympic Peninsula, Lake Crescent is an easy destination for daytrippers and vacationers. And the trip will not disappoint. The heavily forested mountains on the north of the peninsula cradle the crystal clear blue waters creating beautiful views from any vantage point.

Highway 101 hugs the southern shore of the lake and there is no shortage of all those beautiful views. It's one of those winding roads motorcyclists and sports car drivers dream of, but be careful. The speed limit is 35 for a reason. Bicyclists ride on the narrow road and the lake has a long history of people driving off the road, the most notable is Blanch and Russell Warren who drove into the lake in the 20's and no one really knew what happened to them until 2002 when their car was found by divers.

But I would hate to drive fast on this road and miss all the opportunities for gawking at the views and pulling off at the ample pull-outs along the way.

And when you're done driving Highway 101 along the lake shore, head to one of the trailheads for the railroad grade trail and meander along the "backside" of Lake Crescent. It's a fairly flat 4 miles one way and leads you past Devil's Punchbowl - a very popular swimming hole.

When is the best time to go? Anytime. Spring brings new growth and roadside waterfalls. Summer brings recreationists playing on the water. Fall colors line the shore in autumn. And of course winter capped mountains are a must see, reflected in the still waters. I've never been disappointed by my favorite lake.

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.

These Serendipitous Moments

We were camped at the edge of a lake along the Pacific Crest Trail, the only campers there – just me and Zillah, my faithful hiking companion. We had hiked all day and by evening were ready to snuggle into our tent. Expecting a warm evening, I had left the rainfly unzipped on the tent to hopefully catch a breeze during the night. But that is not all that we would catch. As dusk settled over the little lake Zillah leaped up, hackles raised and with her nose pressed against the bug mesh of the tent let out a low rumbling growl. Bear! I peered out the tent wondering what I should do to protect us both. The splashing from the lake told me that it was coming across the lake for us. Squinting against the darkening light I saw not a bear coming at us to tear us apart, but a herd of elk playing in the lake. They splashed in it. They chased each other. They squealed elk squeals of delight. Danger averted, Zillah and I settled back into bed and listened to the elk playing until we drifted to sleep. The next morning, I looked across the lake and one lone cow stood at the opposite shore. She trotted off into the forest when she saw me. At that moment I realized I alone had experienced that marvelous interaction.

After several years, I still treasure that evening near Fish Lake and I was reminded how special it was recently on two wildlife encounters.

The 1^st encounter occurred while walking around the grounds at American Camp in the San Juan National Historical Park. I had received advice from a couple who lived on the island regarding which fork in the trail would be the best. Their advice took we along the top of the bluffs overlooking Haro Strait towards Grandma’s Cove. The cove itself is well worth the walk but as I was just finishing up trying to capture the beauty of the cove, I turned to look into the brilliant brown eyes of a silver fox. She seemed to recognize that I was no threat to her at all and meandered around on the same bluff as I was on for 20 minutes while I happily photographed her. Finally, I decided it was time for me to head back and she decided to try hunting on another part of the bluff. All the time we spent together not a single other person joined us. It was my little moment with this beautiful creature.

A few days later, I was attending an artist and photographer retreat at Mt Baker. While many of the participants were spread out through the meadows with their easels and tripods or hiking in groups to see cloud enshrouded views, I meandered through the meadow talking to photographers and artists about the colors and inspirations. After a bit – close to lunchtime – I started back to the lodge along the road and surprised a couple of ptarmigan taking refuge in some bushes beside the road. Cars passed by as I quickly created a few images of one little gal eyeing me before jumping off her little rock. I couldn’t wait to get back to the lodge and look at the images and smiling to myself. 

Deer Gangs

The deer in Moran State Park, and indeed all of Orcas Island, are very well behaved. As I drove the roads, they stayed on the side of the road. Rarely did they walk in front of my car or stand dumb-founded as my car approached.

Not like the deer in the Methow Valley. There’s something wrong with those deer.

As you drive along highway 20 from the North Cascades, you will see a sign that gives the number of deer killed in car collisions. Some years it’s a very high number.

I’ve wondered as I’ve driven past that sign, “wouldn’t all the dumb deer be killed by now?” With the high deaths of deer deaths of dumb deer meandering in the middle of the road (I’ve seen them do that along the highway). At some point, only the smart deer who know how to stay off the road would survive and teach their young to do the same. One would think, right?

A few years ago I found the answer – Deer Gangs. Adolescent deer hang out together by the side of the road daring each other to walk in front of cars.

Now hear me out.

A few years ago I was spending some time in the Methow. A few friends and I rented a cabin where you turned off the main road near a blind curve. And it was a blind curve, not only did it turned but as it turned it dropped down a hill.

One evening as I was headed back to the cabin, I slowed down to turn onto the dirt road when I noticed a group of deer hanging out in the blind of the curve. One started into the road as I came near but then backed away and went back to the small group of deer. It was if they were daring each other to walk in front of cars.

“Hey Jeff. Here comes a car. Walk out there and see what happens to this one.”

I could almost see cigarette butts hanging from their mouths and tattoos on their arms.

Not the Moran deer. They were more like “How do you do? I’m sure you’ll enjoy the view from the top. We certainly do. Carry on.”

The Moran deer were far more courteous.

The People You Meet

Several years ago I sat in on a talk given by National Park Historian Alfred Runte while at Mt Rainier National Park. He spoke of the treasures that our National Parks are for us – not only do they protect our wilderness, our history and our culture. They are meeting places of the world where we can meet people from other cultures and share in the experience we might not have otherwise shared. Our National Parks have the ability to bring people together.

I was reminded of his talk recently while on a trip to the San Juan Islands to visit a couple of Washington State Parks and the San Juan Islands National Historical Park.

I first met John and Louise, a retired couple who now live on San Juan Island near Friday Harbor. We met while walking around the prairie at American Camp of San Juan Island NHP. John built the white picket fence surrounding the old parade grounds. He had worked for both the park service and forest service in his time and Louise had built the reputation of always ready for adventure. We chatted about the park, bicycling and what views could be seen on the loop trail I had chosen. It saddened me to part with them but as I watched them walk along the trail, I smiled at having met them.

Later in camp, I met Rainier and his wife who had decided to go on a road trip with their Prius and, wanting to save money, were experimenting with sleeping in the back of the car. They slept very well (it was the larger Prius). They had travelled from California to Washington visiting friends and family along the way. She informed me that her daughter runs the Driftwood Inn in Yachats, Oregon – so if you’re ever in town I understand all of the food is made from scratch including the bread.

It was just a chance meeting with Marly while we walked to get water in Moran State Park. She and her friend had hiked in Obstruction Point Park that day while I spent some time at the top of Mt Constitution. She asked about the view as they were headed up the next day. Of course it had been a wonderful view and at sunset the clouds parted enough for Mt Baker to show herself. And in the last light of the day the clouds took on a look of pink cotton candy clinging to the mountains slopes. The next morning, she gave me a packet of dried vanilla leaf because my story of the cotton candy clouds touched her so.

To end my solitary week, I spent the weekend at the Mountaineers Lodge at Mt Baker for an artist and photo retreat. A bit of a shock to my system when I am surrounded by 60 people who are all creative in some way. There was Erwin whose photography I’ve admired for some time. Brooke whose abstract plein-air paintings and exuberance sparked my imagination. Watercolor masters from Canada and plein-air painters from Washington shared their work all weekend.

And finally Nancy who we both realized may know the same Marcia and we laughed at the small world and our interconnectedness. A community where we didn’t know existed.

Bucket List

Yes, I have one.

Publish my books.

Go on an African Safari.

Tour India.

Photograph the Aurora.

Summit Mt St Helens.

This year I was able to cross one of them off . . . permanently . . . with a big ole black marker.

Eighteen years ago was my 1st attempt only to be turned around by weather and an insane guide who mocked me of my fears of being blown off the rim by the storm that was bearing down on us.

Since then, I had planned and purchased 5 more climb permits only to be turned away by weather, injuries and insecurities.

But this year I finally made it.

I didn't go alone. My sister gathered a group of friends who trained with us and climbed through boulders and pumice to celebrate our achievement on top of an active (ish) volcano. I doubt I could have done it without them.

From Mark's glee at finding a new passion to Evie's determination to not let a bunch of boulders get in her way to Andrea's magical cooling rags to my sister's insistence that she would kick my ass if I didn't get to the top, I found the ability in myself to overcome the heat and self-doubt.

Every step was worth it - to watch as the landscape changed with every ridge line - to accomplish a goal so long in the making - to share the accomplishment with new found friends.

I look forward to the next accomplishment especially with my friends - old and new, near and far - supporting me along the way.

And of course a sister who won't hesitate to kick my ass to get it done.

Love you all.

A Little Pocket of Paradise

I found my little pocket of paradise this past week.

It's not much. No grandiose views although it is a bit photogenic.

Nothing earth shattering in its location or history.

It's just a pocket and a quiet little pocket, just what I needed and what I didn't know I was looking for.

When I found my pocket I knew though that my heart and soul would forever think of this place when in need.

In times of need when I want to envision my happy place, I think of an alpine meadow shrouded in fog. I feel protected and at peace.

But here on this little knoll looking out into a meadow nestled between basalt bluffs, I felt at home. Beyond protection and peace, this place was comfort.

I could have stayed there forever yet I have no desire to encroach on the landscape by building a home. Maybe in that corner over there so I could have this unspoiled view to myself.

Shared with the deer wandering through the meadow, uncertain of me yet also unafraid.

This is my little pocket of paradise.