Heather Meadows 1/21/07
If you ever ask me where my favorite place to snowshoe or hike is I usually answer quickly with the last place I adventured. I will expound on how wonderful the scenery/flora/trail was and recommend to whoever is listening that they have got to go. One stalwart holdout that brings me back any season is Mt Baker. Whether I’m kayaking on Baker Lake, hiking up the valleys, snowshoeing the meadows, or sitting in awe at Artist’s Point I’m always happy when I return and will often start planning another trip up.
This weekend, after several weeks of watching the mountains gather winter coats, friends & I threw out snowshoes in the back of the Subaru and drove off to Heather Meadows on the northwest side of Mt Baker. Heather Meadows is fabulous any time of year: spring and summer wildflowers dot the landscape, autumn burnishes the blueberry leaves, winter is thick with snow piled high. The forest leases out ski slopes in the area and there is quite a bit of groomed and backcountry terrain reached with chairlifts. There are also other slopes in the area accessible only by the hearty few who will climb with their skis and shush back down again. The meadows and valleys are perfect for cross-country skiers and snowshoers.
For several years, I had been trying to reach Artist’s Point from Heather Meadows and had convinced my friends that this would be a good destination for us. However, after only a half hour, we realized that not only was the snow extremely powdery (and hindering our momentum) but the wind was torturous. Each blast picked up tiny snow crystal from the surface and splashed it into our faces, feeling as if our faces were stabbed by a series of tiny pins. We finally took refuge underneath the boarded up visitor’s center in the meadows, had lunch and planned out the rest of our afternoon.
Our best bet would be to make our way into the valley holding Bagley Lakes – frozen over for winter and covered with snow. I had hiked around the lakes several times and am often intrigued by their utter disappearance during the winter. Where ferns and flowers grow during the summer only smooth snow banks exist after the first heavy snowfall. Even the shed-sized boulder where boys full of adventure jump into the lake is camouflaged as drifted snow. Here we were, our little band of friends, looking over the edge of the hill to the valley bottom and hidden lakes below trying to find the safest route to windless freedom, but the illusions of snow can be disastrous. One wrong step and we could be sliding out for control or even worse, start a small avalanche.
The slope seemed sturdy enough, so Grant started a traversing descent on our first steep incline. Kristi, Christine & I all had a different idea. The snow was soft, we had thick layers on and the slope looked too sweet to pass up. We stood side by side at the edge of the hill, sat down, and pushed off. If you haven’t got a sled, the next best thing is your own rump. But, the snow was soft and within a few yards, our butts were deep in snow with snow pile between our legs. We weren’t going any further. Nor did it seem were we getting up without a struggle. Giggling, twisting, turning, pushing and finally just rolling over, we got on our feet to walk and run the rest of the way to Grant. The next hill wouldn’t be as steep for us, so we just ran down the hill, at times sinking to our knees, if not face-planting. It took us some time to re-group (stop giggling) and shake out the more excess snow from our clothes. During this exercise, a group of free-heelers met up with us and we chatted about their sport and their dogs as they waited for a few friends. We soon met up with our car, finished shaking out the excess snow, and discussed how we need to get back out real soon and maybe next time, make it all the way to Artist’s Point.
If you ever ask me where my favorite place to snowshoe or hike is I usually answer quickly with the last place I adventured. I will expound on how wonderful the scenery/flora/trail was and recommend to whoever is listening that they have got to go. One stalwart holdout that brings me back any season is Mt Baker. Whether I’m kayaking on Baker Lake, hiking up the valleys, snowshoeing the meadows, or sitting in awe at Artist’s Point I’m always happy when I return and will often start planning another trip up.
This weekend, after several weeks of watching the mountains gather winter coats, friends & I threw out snowshoes in the back of the Subaru and drove off to Heather Meadows on the northwest side of Mt Baker. Heather Meadows is fabulous any time of year: spring and summer wildflowers dot the landscape, autumn burnishes the blueberry leaves, winter is thick with snow piled high. The forest leases out ski slopes in the area and there is quite a bit of groomed and backcountry terrain reached with chairlifts. There are also other slopes in the area accessible only by the hearty few who will climb with their skis and shush back down again. The meadows and valleys are perfect for cross-country skiers and snowshoers.
For several years, I had been trying to reach Artist’s Point from Heather Meadows and had convinced my friends that this would be a good destination for us. However, after only a half hour, we realized that not only was the snow extremely powdery (and hindering our momentum) but the wind was torturous. Each blast picked up tiny snow crystal from the surface and splashed it into our faces, feeling as if our faces were stabbed by a series of tiny pins. We finally took refuge underneath the boarded up visitor’s center in the meadows, had lunch and planned out the rest of our afternoon.
Our best bet would be to make our way into the valley holding Bagley Lakes – frozen over for winter and covered with snow. I had hiked around the lakes several times and am often intrigued by their utter disappearance during the winter. Where ferns and flowers grow during the summer only smooth snow banks exist after the first heavy snowfall. Even the shed-sized boulder where boys full of adventure jump into the lake is camouflaged as drifted snow. Here we were, our little band of friends, looking over the edge of the hill to the valley bottom and hidden lakes below trying to find the safest route to windless freedom, but the illusions of snow can be disastrous. One wrong step and we could be sliding out for control or even worse, start a small avalanche.
The slope seemed sturdy enough, so Grant started a traversing descent on our first steep incline. Kristi, Christine & I all had a different idea. The snow was soft, we had thick layers on and the slope looked too sweet to pass up. We stood side by side at the edge of the hill, sat down, and pushed off. If you haven’t got a sled, the next best thing is your own rump. But, the snow was soft and within a few yards, our butts were deep in snow with snow pile between our legs. We weren’t going any further. Nor did it seem were we getting up without a struggle. Giggling, twisting, turning, pushing and finally just rolling over, we got on our feet to walk and run the rest of the way to Grant. The next hill wouldn’t be as steep for us, so we just ran down the hill, at times sinking to our knees, if not face-planting. It took us some time to re-group (stop giggling) and shake out the more excess snow from our clothes. During this exercise, a group of free-heelers met up with us and we chatted about their sport and their dogs as they waited for a few friends. We soon met up with our car, finished shaking out the excess snow, and discussed how we need to get back out real soon and maybe next time, make it all the way to Artist’s Point.
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