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.

Friends of all Sizes

Divide Camp Trail, 8/29/09, 10 miles, 1800 elevation

My friend Anna is going through a difficult time in her life. Her second bout with Breast Cancer took both of her breasts. At this point, she is going through reconstruction - the painful part - where they have to stretch your tissue to make room for the implants. Always upbeat about life and her predicament, and yet constant pain does start to wear a person down. When she asked if she could go on a hike with me, I jumped at the chance. Nature has a way of restoring even the weariest of us.

She wanted to go somewhere new & I wanted to take her somewhere that wouldn't tax her strength or resolve too much. She was also bringing along her 4-month-old Puppy Niko. For all the energy puppies have, they do tire out so easily. I decided to give Niko some company, Zillah should come along too. As for the trail, I decided on either Killeen Creek or Divide Camp trails on Mt Adams. Anna said she had never been to Mt Adams and would love to see it. These trails give you quick access to the upper meadows without too much work. They also connect with the Pacific Crest Trail so once you get to the meadows you can wander along as far as you want to go.

Even though we had a great plan, the weather decided to make its own decisions. We both woke to pouring rain. But we are Northwest folks and a little rain rarely deters us. Good thing to - it barely sprinkled on us throughout our day and the clouds even broke up in the afternoon to shine a little warmth onto us and Adams.

This late in the season, I wasn't expecting much in the way of wildflowers. Yet lupine were still making a slight show. Indian Paintbrush and Cascade Daisies were still going strong. Monkey flowers brightened the grey rocks along streams. Even the marmots came out to admire (or eat) the pretties.

As we were on the PCT, we did meet up with at least one thru-hiker who stopped to chat with us. I neglected to get his name, but do know he's from Israel. I told him it was too bad that My Adams decided to hide today as walking along his flanks at this altitude gives you the most spectacular views. He asked about the Goat Rocks. I told him the Goat Rocks is where God goes to hike. This is when he mentioned he was from Israel and he guessed God needed a vacation too once in a while. We laughed at his joke and shared some more information then Anna & I waved good-bye and wished him luck on the rest of his journey. Anna asked after he left where he was hiking from - I told her Mexico. She asked "You can do that? That's a long way!"

We meandered south along the PCT looking at flowers, watching marmots, gazing longingly toward the cloud shrouded mountain. Zillah & Niko pranced side by side, never discerning where the whistling marmots were hiding. We stopped for lunch at the lava fields. Poor Niko was already getting tired - he plopped down and barely moved even for a treat. I figured we all could keep going but Niko was just too tired to go on. Anna & I decided this would be our turn-around point and made our way back to the parking lot.

Once there, the sun broke through the clouds. Ahh, the warmth. We chatted a bit with a gentleman waiting for his wife and her companions. He was a Forest Service retiree and told us wonderful places to go - I wish I wrote them down. We made a quick detour to Tahklahk Lake to finally see Mt Adams in his beauty - basking in the afternoon sun with the lake below. How perfect an end to our day. We agreed before heading out on the road again that next time we'd spend the night next July up with the flowers, the marmots and the views.

A Grand Hike

Grand Ridge/Grand Valley, 8/22/09, 12 miles, 2500 elevation

Starting from Obstruction Point in the Olympics can make for a long day, but the trails leading from the end of the road there are marvelous to behold. And when you link several together in a large loop, you come away with a very satisfying hike. I've been wanting to share this special place with others and my opportunity came when we began looking at hikes for the Mountaineers' Conditioning Hike Series.

I was first introduced to this area many years ago by my sister. She was intrigued with this road that our family always seemed to avoid when we were children. After our steep descent on the road, we understood. Mother was afraid of heights, and to get out to the trails the road wound along some very steep cliffs. At least they would have seemed that way to her. We found a loop on the map and decided that Badger Valley to Grand Lake and over Grand Ridge would be a wonderful way to spend the day. So we toughed out the road, toughed out the trail, and toughed out the drive. In the end we were both taken by the beauty and it became one of our favorites.

I later did sections of the trip with Michael. He too became so enamored with the area that a fifteen hour day to get there and back was never questioned. We had met one of the biggest marmots ever while hiking these trails along with exquisite flower displays. (No wonder the marmot was so huge.) But we would run into several obstacles when thinking who we could introduce this trail to - not the least of which was the difficulty of the primitive trail from Elk Mountain to Badger Valley. Finally, we decided to give the CHS class a chance. Students jumped at the opportunity.

To start off on our route, we had to traverse what is called the head-wall along a narrow path of flattened talus. We took it slow to make sure our hikers had their feet under them. But the hesitation some felt gave way to delight as we crested the ridge to views of Mt Baker, Vancouver Island and the Strait of Juan de Fuca. We would have stayed on the ridge a little longer, however autumn was felt in the wind and we again took refuge on the trail behind the ridge. Not long after we met up with a fat-butt marmot walking on our trail. He stopped to pose a while then waddled off the trail to let us pass.

The way down to Badger Meadows from here is along an almost abandoned primitive trail - no longer maintained by the park, just the few dozen hiking boots that dare follow the little dotted line on the map. This was the section that made Michael & I hesitate about bringing others with us. The way is full of loose rock and dirt, steep inclines and frightening drop-offs. Everyone seemed ready if not a little reticent, so with Michael in the rear to help anyone along and to chat with them to keep their minds off what they were walking on, we slowly started downward. It took us longer than I expected but we kept the pace slow and I would coach people down the rougher spots as Michael offered reassuring words from behind. And soon we were walking through the meadows that in July are filled with flowers and marmots. Some of our hikers were ecstatic - they would never have thought they could have hiked a trail as forgotten as that one. And yet they did - smiles were shared all around.

We stopped in a wide meadow surrounded by mountains for lunch. We ate as we gazed upward at these mighty structures. The Olympics may not be as grand as the Sierras or the Rockies, but they never seem to fail to impress. A little more downhill and we were on our way to climbing up along Grand Creek to the lake. The afternoon was moving along to the sounds of laughter as we shared stories on the lake shore. One of our members even decided a swim would be just the thing before climbing out of the valley. And a climb it was going to be.

My first hike with Kristi left us both sweaty, exhausted and defeated. So much so that we vowed to make our impression on the "mountain" as soon as we reached the top. Our impression was in the form of posing victoriously topless. We made no such vows this time except what we'd be ordering at the Mexican restaurant when we got to town. A slow and steady climb got us to the top and along the ridge to the parking lot. Along the way are views of the interior of the the park and Mt Olympus sitting grandly in the center as if holding court. I marvel at the fact that no matter how tired a woman is when she gets to the trailhead, she still has enough energy to run to the outhouse. As we drove away, the resident buck came out to watch us leave before sniffing around looking for hand-outs.

For some, this was their toughest hike yet. As I looked around the table during our late dinner and saw the smiles and listened to the laughter, I knew that these hikers were as proud of themselves as I was that first trip so long ago. The milestones and accomplishments were different for each of us and we knew we had done something good with our day.

Birthday Wishes

Camp Muir, 8/15-8/16/09, 5 miles, 4500 elevation

A few years ago on her birthday my sister jumped out of a plane. It had been a dream of hers for several years and she finally made plans for her birthday. I sat and watched her as she slowly floated through the sky, landing safely with a smile extending ear to ear, inspiring me to pursue my own birthday dream - sleeping overnight at Camp Muir. So I made my reservations for the weekend and watched with growing horror as the weather warmed, snow melted, and crevasses became exposed in the snow field below Muir. I have no experience in crevasse travel and wasn't sure I wanted my special birthday trip to be my first experience. The ranger at the climbing desk reassured us that as long as we had ice axes, crampons and the knowledge to use them then we were prepared well enough. Slight assurance, but I was with Michael & David and knew that they would not push our luck.

Michael had been suffering from an illness all summer, so had not been able to go hiking with me much. nor had he been able to train in other ways. As we climbed up through the clouds getting closer to clear skies, Michael fell further and further behind. My concern for him began to mount as I eyed our route up the mountain. I decided that I would head back if that was what he wanted. Barring eruption, Mt Rainier would be there another year.

We stopped for lunch at Pebble Creek, our halfway point in mileage. Michael broke the news to us; he would have to turn back. But he would hear nothing of Dave & I turning back with him. I looked up the mountain. How was I supposed to make it without him? The route, the fear, the experience - I needed Michael to b there to help get me through it. We traded equipment and supplies - he took anything I would not need and made sure I had the lighter equipment. With a tear in my eye, I followed Dave up the hill as Michael waved to us from the creek.

It took us 4 hours to climb the last 2 miles. Climbing on snow is not bad, rather easy compared to climbing over rocks. It was the elevation gain that slowed us down. And then we got to the ice. At first I thought we were walking on marble, but then I realized that it was ice embedded with gravel. An interesting phenomenon that kept my mind occupied as I stepped over one crack and the another. Finally I stopped as I realized I was walking over crevasses. My heart skipped a beat. I watched as Dave kept climbing. I sucked in a breathe or two . . . or three before willing my feet t continue. Geez! Once I get up there would I have the courage to go back down? The largest crevasse still lay ahead of us - several feet wide, an over-used snowbridge spanning the gulf. Was that a foot hole where someone passed through? My first response was "Oh Hell No!" But Dave coaxed me across as soon we were stumbling into Camp Muir.

We set about quickly building camp; Dave digging the tent platform and I started melting water for dinner and to refill our bottles. All the while I sat amazed - I was at Camp Muir. I made it. And look at that view! Clouds covered the valleys to the south, but eastward the mountains peaked through. The temperature dropped as quickly as the sun lowered below the horizon. We took refuge in the tent and I warmed up, but for some reason couldn't stop shivering. That and the cold would keep me up most the night. I stepped out of the tent at one point to a sky filled with stars; the Milky Way seemed close enough to touch. A few climbing parties were already making their way up the mountain - their headlamps bobbing in the darkness.

The next morning, I roamed through camp - a community of people laughing and sharing stories. There was a great sense of camaraderie and I found myself accepted as one of their own. Even as I told them that I had only come to spend the night at the camp, they welcomed me warmly and shared some of their favorite climbs.

As the morning warmed, Dave & I strapped on our crampons next to a pair of ladies also preparing to head back down. Like us, they had only spent the night in Muir. They were planning on roping up - one of the gals had fallen through the crevasse, the one with the foot hole. Even though I was nervous, I was going to trust that I would make it down the mountain safely. Sure enough, without incident we were through the crevasses, down the snowfield and walking through the alpine meadows of Paradise. Michael was waiting for us at the Visitor Center with open arms and bottles of water. As proud as I was at fulfilling my birthday wish.

Heidi's Adventures on the PCT

White Pass to Chinook Pass, 7/25/09-7/27/09, 27 miles, 2500 elevation

I have a pretty big dream. Several of them actually. I want to hike a long trail - you know, like the Appalachian Trail or the Pacific Crest. Really I'd like to do them both - thru hike them and several others. Getting the time off to do them though is a bit of an issue. My best bet right now is to take a long weekend and do a section at a time of the trail closest to home - the Pacific Crest, or the PCT - the Washington sections. After a little research, I figured the best section to start with would be the nice short 27 mile trip between White Pass and Chinook Pass.

Three days, 8 miles a day. It would be wonderful. But then I picked the hottest weekend of the year and Michael got sick and I was looking at three days in the wilderness by myself, sweating and overheating and being lonely. I don't backpack well alone. I'd much rather have someone to go with, but I have few friends who backpack and those that do can't always drop their plans on the spur as I would have to. I resolved to go on my own. I have an iPod for the lonely hours. And there's always Zillah.

Michael insisted I take Zillah along, to be my guard dog and to keep me company. I didn't really hesitate much, I knew I would need something to talk to other than the imagined bear chewing off my leg. She, however didn't understand why "the papa" wasn't coming with us, or why she had to carry a pack on her back or why I kept slapping mosquitoes off her head. And there were plenty of mosquitoes to slap. Before I stopped for lunch I think I ate about 5 of them just by breathing through my mouth. I would have breathed through my nose except snorting a mosquito is worse than swallowing one. Plainly said, the bugs were miserable.

It didn't take long for me to lose track of both time and mileage and I reached my planned 1st night campsite well before I was ready to camp. It was a pretty little lake alongside the trail and I made note to return another time and camp here. I decided to try and make Fish Lake believing it was only a twelve mile day I'd be hiking that day. Later I would find out that my guesstimate had no basis in truth - it was 15 miles from my starting point to Fish Lake. As I was still going strong, I figured there'd be little trouble. Which there wasn't. I found our campsite, set up the tent then both Zillah & I dove in to gain a little refuge from the bugs.

A nap seemed like a great way to spend the rest of the afternoon, but I was soon awakened by rumbling in the sky and a dog trying to burrow her way into my sleeping bag. I wondered, as Zillah curled into a ball next to me inside the bag, how Michael would feel knowing both his dog and his wife fit inside his sleeping bag. I listened and watched as the storm passed over us, comforting Zillah as best I could - some brave watch dog she turned out to be. As the last of the storm drifted past and with the sky beginning to dim, Zillah and I uncurled ourselves from the tent for a bite to eat and sit near the lake to watch the fish jump. We were the only ones out here that night. The mosquitoes had even gone home to bed.

I let Zillah romp through the meadow. She seemed so happy running up and down the marshy shore stopping every so often to roll in the grass then leap up to romp a bit more. Night was rapidly approaching so I called Zillah back into the tent and I settled down with my headlamp and book. All of a sudden we heard a KASHUMP, KASHUMP, KASHUMP, SPLASH, SPLASH in the darkness. Zillah was on her feet, nose pressed against the mosquito netting. A low warning growl issued from her throat. My heart skipped a beat. I turned off the headlamp. Then I saw what was making all the noise. A small heard of elk were playing in the lake on the other shore. I shushed Zillah and watched until darkness obscured them from my site. I listened to them bugle at each other for the rest of the night - secure in the thought that they would not be there if danger approached.

The next morning we got up bright and early knowing our toughest climb of the trip would be right out of the starting gate. The day before was tiring, the last mile whipped my butt. Now I would have to start a climb right out of bed. Yet I was happy with my decision to stay at Fish Lake and get this climb out of my way so I could enjoy the day. A lone elk grazed on the far side of the lake as we left and I smiled to myself for the comfort seeing her brought. Slowly we made our way up the hill. First through thick forest, then it started thinning out breaking open to meadows. Soon I could see the open air above me and the trail continuing its climb through meadows and talus. The sun was higher and hotter and my head began to bake in its confines. I had to rest more often, drink more water, eat another snack. Zillah slurped all the water I gave her and looked to me for more. And just when I thought I'd never see the end of the climb, I crested the ridge to see Mt Rainier filling the valley and the sky.

It was a perfect spot to rest, rehydrate and refuel. Plus pull out the camera for a few quick shots. Soon two Washington thru-hikers showed up, iPods in their ears. One stopped to chat for a minute, asked if he'd be seeing the mountain soon. I casually pointed to the massive mound in the distance. He followed my gesture with surprise. I guess you kind of forget to look around when you're listening to hiking music. I bring my iPod along, but I listen to it in camp, during the slow lonely hours between set-up and sleep. From here on, it was one fabulous view after another. To my west stood Mt Rainier in all her glory. To my East, the hills and valleys of the east Cascades.

As the day wore on and the heat increased, I could feel myself melt. I grew over-fatigued but wanted so much to get to Dewey Lake, my next camp, before resting. After one short but brutal hill, I lost my will to go on. In fact I lost my will to hike, camp, and photograph. I found the 1st shady spot on the trail, dropped my pack, laid on top of it and slept for about an hour. Both Zillah and I woke refreshed and had a little lunch to get us through the rest of the day. Before long, we were down the hill and meandering through meadows and ponds to meet up with Dewey Lake. A brief chat with a ranger informed us of several campsites at the other end of the lake. Ah, to take off the boots put on my camp sandals. Too bad I had lost one of them on the trail about 1/2 mile back and was not willing to head back to retrieve it. I know exactly where it was as it was the only time I got up without looking behind me before moving on. I managed - hurray for extra socks.

There were actually tents set up around Dewey Lake making me feel a little more secure about staying. I watched day-hikers dry off their feet before heading out. I watched campers romped in the shallows. Zillah and I both ventured into the lake - mud squishing between our toes, the sun warmed water soothing aching feet. This was nice. I could relax here.

Another climb awaited me in the morning and I was rather nervous after the previous day's climb. So I broke camp early and started up. I was supposed to meet Michael at 2 and I figured with the climb I'd need an early start. However, I crested the ridge in about an hour and hardly felt it. I was flabbergasted. And I also realized I would be at the picnic area way early . . . and no cell. The hill I had been climbing led up to Naches Peak on the eastern edge of Mt Rainier National Park. The peak is famous in the summer for the acres of wildflower meadows. I was not disappointed: lupine, asters, paintbrush, louseworts, rosy spirea, avalanche lilies blanketed the slopes.

I slowed our pace, rested by the side of a tarn and still we were at the picnic area by 10. I found the one picnic table in the shade and watched the day-hikers come and go, sweltering in the heat. And I reflected on my accomplishment - 3-days, solo in the wilderness. Maybe I could do a long hike after all.

One of our Favorites

Marmot Pass, 7/19/09, 11 miles, 3700 elevation

After hiking this trail last year, Michael & I had to add it to our favorite hikes list. The trail is a steady climb along the Quilcene River, through old growth forests and wildflower filled meadows to magnificent views of the Olympic Mountains. Hikes just can't get better than this.

Clouds passed overhead, promising a cool climb through the trees. Other groups passed us as we passed them on rest stops. Marmot Pass is a popular destination as it's a start to other adventures in the Park and Buckhorn Wilderness. Our plan was to just head to the pass for lunch and admire the view before heading back.

The flowers were a little lackluster this year - a disappointment from my high hopes after seeing the beargrass the previous weekends and the flowers from last season. But the views were as amazing as ever - especially with the clouds blowing in and around the peaks. I left Michael near the pass as I climbed higher for better views and a little more adventure. I ended at a plateau filled with lichens and alpine wildflowers - and a stiff cold wind. I didn't stay long before heading back down to Michael and relative warmth of less wind.

On the way back down, we stopped near the river to watch the sun sparkle off the moss hanging from the trees and the ripples in the river. Marmot Pass will stay on our favorite hikes list.

A Walk in the Rain

Island Lake Day Hike, 7/12/09, 12 miles, 2500 elevation

After our relaxing backpack to Island Lake, it was time to take a group of Conditioning Hike members up for their own view. However, the fabulous weather we had last weekend did not hold for this week. We would not be deterred by the threat of rain. Nor would we turn back when thunder rolled through the air. As northwest hikers, we were prepared for any weather contingency.

We easily crossed streams and waterfalls as we hiked up the hill. Stopped on occasion to laugh at a joke or look at a plant. When we came across the opening for our view of Mt Rainier, the mountain was obscured by the cloud-laden sky. The beargrass, however was as plentiful and beautiful as last week. A few trail runners passed us heading to Pratt Lake. We lost our way about a quarter mile from the lake - snow had hidden the trail last week and marshy ponds covered them this week. A bit of bush-whacking through the shrubs and trees got us through.

As our group made our way to the lake shore, low lying clouds hid the lake from view. Soon though, a breeze swept the clouds away and everyone ate their lunches with smiles. Even though we didn't have sunny skies, the lake was still just as pretty - with a bit more solitude to boot.