Spring Flowers

Before the spring equinox, as the earth starts to warm with lengthening days, they appear quietly gently nuzzling their way from the protection of leaves and soil. We look for them as spring approaches – to let ourselves know that the dark dismal days of winter are receding behind us and adventure and hope are before us.

Small spring flowers, in the wilds and our gardens. We begin to see Indian Plum, tassels of white shivering in the breeze like pom-poms of an excited cheerleader, willing her team to win. Indian Plum lets us know that our hopes will be answered, quickly as other flowers begin to bloom.

In the garden, Snow Drops and Crocus emerge to add brightness to the day. Short-lived Camellias splash color across waxy green shrubs. Not long afterwards spring begins to fill your senses.

The air smells cleaner after a spring shower. Bird song fills the air. The sun begins to warm your face. There’s a lightness in your being, a bounce in your step, a smile on your lips.

Revel in spring. 

Washington State Parks: Field's Spring

Sometimes it pays to talk to the park rangers, volunteers and other employees of the state parks.
On my recent trip to Field's Spring, a park I had never visited before but will be visiting again, I was meandering around the parking lot and the trails between one of the lodges and the campground. The park is know for being a wildflower heaven during the months of May and June, so I was looking at all of the forest wildflowers popping up and was completely thrilled to be able to photograph both the male and female flowers of the meadowrue.

Before I had decided to stay close to camp (I was rather tired after the drive from Seattle to south of Clarkston), I had the opportunity to chat with Mike & Kathy the campground hosts. A very kind couple who enthusiastically showed me the wildflowers pictures they had taken on their hike up Puffer Butte, the high point of the park with views into Oregon and Idaho.  They found lupine, lomatium, calypso orchids, phlox, paintbrush and several other flowers on the trail and in the meadow at the top. Feeling the exhaustion set in, I decided to stick around camp and head up the hill for sunrise and morning golden hour photography.

So there I was, meandering around the campground and lodges when a beat up red sedan pulled up next to me with an older gentleman driving, his passenger was a big German Shepard standing in the passenger seat nose to the windshield and tongue hanging out. "You looking for birds?" he asked leaning his head out the window. One look at the car and the monster of a dog next to him, I knew he was someone with something to say. "No, not really. I'm looking for wildflowers - they're easier to spot."

"Oh. You want wildflowers. Well, have you been out the corral trail yet?"

"No. Where is that."

"You'll want to follow the dirt road here past the lodge to the gate. Go through the gate onto the trail. Take the Morning Song Trail and at the end of that trail there's a smaller trail that follows the ridge. You can go out there. You can go anywhere - it all belongs to the park, so it's ok. But that's where you'll find all the wildflowers you want. I know - I used to work here."

"Oh, thank you. This road here?"

"Yep. you can drive out to the gate too - there's a parking lot there."

"Thanks."

I watched as he drove off with his dog balancing in the front seat. I looked at the road he pointed out and decided that I needed to explore every corner since that is why I was there. His advice did not disappoint.

Just off the Corral Trail was the Morning Song Trail. A short walk brought me to sweeping views of the Blue Mountains and at my feet - flowers. Lupine, Balsamroot, Scarlett Gilia, Indian Paintbrush in so many colors I lost count and flowers I had never before seen.

I followed Morning Song to it's end but it hooked back into the Corral Trail. There was no trail along the ridge. I thought to retrace my steps, but instead continued along the Corral Trail to its end. I did find the trail along the ridge but will tell you about it in the book in a feature named Insider's Tips. These will be hints and tips from the people who know the park from the inside out.

Oh, and at the end of the Corral Trail is an old broken down corral and more views including a view of Puffer Butte.

To Get There: It's a short 29 miles from Clarkston, WA. Follow Highway 129 south to Asotin. In Asotin, Highway 129 turns right to head up into the plateau. Turn right to continue on Highway 129. The park is on your left 22 miles from Asotin.

Best Laid Plans . . .

It was shaping up to be the perfect image. I could see it all in my mind. Sunlight streaming over the hillside, lighting the flowers at my feet maybe a little sun-star effect to enhance the composition. But you know what they say, best laid plans of mice and men.

My buddy Ed & I arrived early to Dalles Mountain Ranch in the Columbia River Gorge. I knew the flowers were blooming and had really hoped I could convince him that heading to Columbia Hills State Park would be a good idea. Dalles Mountain in Washington is less well known than the over-crowded Rowena Plateau on the Oregon side of the gorge. We had photographed at Rowena the morning before - Ed really wanted that classic image of wildflowers at sunrise with the river in the background. And the flowers at Rowena were less than spectacular, in comparison to previous visits.

It was more Ed's trip than mine so I didn't push too much, until we woke up the next morning . . . with rain falling on our tents. We decided to get up anyway, because you never know what will happen in the gorge as my previous trip had proven. We got out of tents, saw a break in the clouds near Dalles Mountain and we sped off to our hoped for amazing images.

Thirty minutes later, we were traipsing through the flower-filled meadows on the side of the mountains. Raindrops still clung to the leaves and grasses, dowsing our boots as we looked for our vantage points. As I meandered, I looked at the hillside to the east and saw a notch that I really liked. Then I found the perfect batch of purple lupine for my foreground.

I was getting more excited as I saw my image come together. I started lining up my composition and saw the ridge just beyond my lupine lined with bright yellow balsamroot.

Yes! This was going to be perfect! The sun would peak at my flowers just to the right of the notch. The aperture of my lens was scrunched down as tight as it would go to make a nice sunstar. And as the sun crested the hill it would also cast light onto the lupine and balsamroot beyond.

I was down-right giddy.

I waited as the sun crept closer to the rim of  the hill. Then I noticed clouds inching their way towards the sun. I willed the sun to rise a little faster. And then just as it hit the lip of the hill to cast light on my perfect image the stupid cloud passed in between us.

NOOO! Stupid *&$%#@ cloud!

I probably shouldn't have called it a bad word, for just after my outburst I was hit with the clouds outburst of rain. I made a few exposures to salvage the morning and returned to the car and Ed, who had called it quits just before I did.

But I like this image and a cup of coffee and an omelette were perfect right afterward.

Cabin and Flowers

I had been wanting to head to Mt Rainier's Indian Henry's Hunting ground for several year - ever since I had passed through on my trek along the Wonderland Trail and then later saw the amazing meadows and wildflower display. When I had hiked through, the meadows were still under at least a foot of snow.

No flowers. No meadows. Lots a flies in the outhouse but that's a different story.

That 1st trip, my hiking partner & I sat on the deck of the Patrol Cabin not knowing it's history (it is the 1st such cabin to have been built in the park). We admired the view of the mountain rising from the cabin's "back yard", imagined the flowers that would appear later that summer.

Nothing would prepare me for the wildflower images I would see after the hike. Those images inspired me to plan another hike to this wonderland.

When a buddy of mine expressed a desire to be at Indian Henry's for the wildflowers and shoot star trails over the mountain, it gave me the perfect reason to head back up.

We opted to camp at a cross country zone behind the cabin and Mirror Lakes so we'd be close to the area we wanted to photograph, thinking that Devil's Dream Camp was too far from the meadow. Just remember that the hike to the cross country zone was heinous - trail was unmaintained and at points dangerous in the dark.

We set up camp and decided to stay put through sunset and stars. Too tired to explore.

The better time to photograph the historic cabin and the meadows would have been in the afternoon on the way in. The sun would have lit up the cabin set back in the trees and I really wanted to get that image.

On the way out, I stopped to take the shot I had missed on the way in even though I knew the lighting just wasn't what I wanted. The cabin hid from the scene in the shadows of the tree. I started planning on the hike out which Photoshop actions I would use to make the image something reminiscent of the history the cabin has experienced.

Cowiche Canyon

When you live on the wet side of the mountains like I do and go through a cold wet winter like we did, the dream of spring comes with the 1st day of March. And so it was that I sat daydreaming out a rain soaked window wishing for sunny skies & wildflowers when my partner in hiking emailed that she would love to have me co-lead a Conditioning Hike in Cowiche Canyon. I of course said "Well, Heck Yeah!" Cowiche Canyon is near Yakima - on the sunny dry side of the state & we can usually find wildflowers aplenty in March.

However, when it came time for our hike my friend showed up sick and begged me to take over for her. Well, that is why I was there - as her backup plan. We left her behind & drove through showers & snow to arrive in Yakima to partly cloudy skies. Oh Hallelujah! Just what I had been daydreaming of, now if only we'd find the flowers too.

We started off in the canyon marveling at the columnar basalt and lichens, crossing over Cowiche Creek several times. A few flowers were blooming. We made it to bridge 8 and started our climb out of the canyon along the uplands trail. And sure enough, we were soon greeted by Yellow Bells, Grass Widows, Prairie Violets and other small lovelies.

Lunch was eaten on an outcrop overlooking the canyon & out of the wind. Then we crossed back over bridge 8 to climb the vineyard trail to the wine tasting room on the other side of the canyon. In the rocks as we hiked Yellow-Bellied Marmots played. It was with some regret when it was time to head home - the sun was so warm & lovely on our faces.

Spring in Cowiche

Cowiche Canyon, 3/13/10, 8 miles, 450 elevation

Spring in Washington brings images of grey skies and cold rain, but there is another Washington, a dry side, a warm side, a sunnier side on the other side of the mountains. Great hiking can be found here east of the Cascades when the weather hasn't calmed down on the "wet" side.

Outside of Yakima is a Conservation area known as Cowiche Canyon - an old railroad that once lead from the Cowiche area to Ellensburg and Wenatchee. After the railroad was no longer in need, the canyon became neglected until the Cowiche Canyon Conservancy decided to preserve the area.

A walk in the canyon along the creek that carved it's way through the volcanic rock, reveals a long geologic history when this landscape was created by the tumult of eruptions. Basalt in various stages of erosion makes up the walls of the canyon reminds me slightly of canyon in the southwest. The sandstone and basalt appear to have similar erosion patterns.

While the canyon floor was devoid of flowers this early in the season there were remnants of last year's floral display. A short hike to the rim of the canyon, reveals an amazing carpet of color: Grass Widows, Prairie Violets and Yellow Bells glimmering in the sun.

All it takes is a little willingness to drive a little farther and you'll enjoy a little bit of the joys of hiking the shoulder season.

To learn more about the Conservancy, go to their website: http://cowichecanyon.org/.

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.

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.

Sunshine and Wild Flowers

Black Canyon, 5/17/09, 9 1/5 miles, 1700 elevation

We needed to scout a trail for an upcoming Conditioning Hike, a trail I had wanted to explore for a couple of years but it being on the hot side of the mountains deterred my adventures. The upcoming CHS hike was a perfect excuse to get out and give the trail a try. We invited our buddy Dave along and picked him up early to try & beat the heat.

The drive to the trail head showed a bit of promise as the hills outside of Ellensburg were covered in Balsamroot and Lupine. My internal tail was a'waggin'. The drive also revealed many varieties of birds including Western Meadowlark and Mourning Dove.

The day was already starting to warm up as we started our climb through the black volcanic rock and yellow balsamroot of the canyon. Willows and ponderosa pine lined the road rapidly reverting back into a trail. At about a mile, we came across an old cabin near a stream in a glade of aspen and cottonwood. A perfect place for a rest before continuing up the hill.

Each small elevation gain presented new flowers and more views. Mt Rainier could be seen in the west as we climbed. The flowers changed from balsamroot to lupine to shooting stars to bitteroot. And as we crested the ridge, views of the valley stretched below us. It was here we stopped for lunch under a pine tree with the meadowlarks singing to our meal.

After our fine meal and stories, we continued on along the ridge stopping to admire flowers and views. The Stuarts could be seen in the distance. Bighead clover sprouted at trailside. We also had to watch our step as horned toads scurried across the dirt & rocks. All too soon we were heading back down the hill. Dave & I explored a short side trail to another viewpoint while Michael continued on to the cabin to wait for us. There we found him taking a nap beside the stream in the shade of the cottonwoods.

From there it was a very hot walk out, but we were able to find a bar & grill in Yakima that served delicious food and cold drinks.

A Friend in the Prairie

Mima Mounds, 5/16/09

There's a prairie south of Olympia. A prairie with golden grasses wagging in the autumn breezes, wildflowers in the spring. A prairie with geological formations that have had scientists scratching their heads for years; perfectly formed mounds all about 3 meters high and evenly spaced along the prairie. A prairie of quiet - and on this afternoon almost pure solitude.

It had been a while since I visited Mima Mounds and thought I might be due. The wildflowers are abundant in May during prairie day festivities. And I had a vision in my head. The vision never quite played out, but the walk in the late spring afternoon was refreshing. I was pretty much alone to meander through the mounds exploring the strange landscape and playing with my camera.

As the sun set, I heard in the muted wail of a coyote. Looking around I saw the little guy atop a mound, voicing his farewell to the day.

And then there was this hill . . .

Tatoosh Lakes, 8/24/08, 5 miles, 2700 elevation

This may sound blasphemous to some, but sometimes I really don't like Ira Spring or Harvey Manning (God rest their souls). These two icons of northwest hiking wrote the book on writing hiking guides and luckily there are a few hiking guide authors who have thrown away that book. Short and/or flat hikes were generally ignored by this writing team as were realistic descriptions and hiking times. In a nutshell, here is the description for Tatoosh Peak out of "100 Hikes in the South Cascades and Olympics": rapidly climb a hill, star walking through meadows, climb 3 short switchbacks, and easily follow the trail to the peak and beautiful views. Oh come on! By the time we got past the 3 short switchbacks even the dog was tired - so much so that she missed the deer standing in the meadow 100 feet away!

With our big backpacking trip just days away, Michael & I figured we could do a little warm-up hike to Tatoosh. I had wanted to do this hike the week before, but with the heat that struck us that week and my reaction to it, we decided to postpone this hike and rest in some A/C on my birthday. Add were we glad we waited. Even with cloud cover and cooler temps, it didn't take long before sweat was dripping of the both of us.

We climbed steeply through the forest along 15 switchbacks and met a pair of llamas along the way. Zillah was immediately intrigued by these strange creatures but didn't bark or growl. We felt like such proud parents as we watched the llamas pass and we continued uphill. As we finished the switchbacks we hoped for a little break in the climb but got no such reward - the hill was unrelenting. The flower-filled meadows came into view and still we climbed. The 3 short switchbacks were short and sweet and gave Zillah her 1st chance at water (we crossed a stream all 3 times). We stopped for a rest while the deer looked down at us, Zillah obliviously panting at our feet.

As we finally reached the junction with Tatoosh Lakes, we decided that the storm that had been brewing all morning would likely hit us while we took in the views from Tatoosh Peak. Michael, having grown up in Colorado, has an aversion to being on mountaintops when storms roll in and my thigh muscles were screaming. So we cut the trip short by heading over the hill to the lakes and rested a bit there with Mt Rainier watching over us.

My description of the trail? Tough climb through the woods and meadows, but worth every step to get those views and to see the abundant flowers. You might even get to see something new along the way.

In the Clouds, Naturally

Eunice Lake, 8/10/08, 5.5 miles, 500 Elevation

My first official trip as hike leader for the naturalist class. Luckily it was a short hike and I had a co-leader.

My small band of naturalist students met me at Lake Mowich where, in the midst of August, snow was still piled up next to the road and snow banks still lined the shoreline. But our way through the woods was snow free if a little cold. Being naturalists, we stopped often along the way to examine this plant or discuss that one. However, with the winter still clinging to Mt Rainier the plants weren't as plentiful as I had hoped.

We came back into the snow and entered low-lying clouds at the lake, but that wasn't going to deter us from a casual lunch. And for my first official trip, it went rather well.

Sweat and Flowers

Marmot Pass, 8/2/08, 10.5 miles, 3500 elevation

Is that yet another variety of Paintbrush? How many had I seen by now? I was looking down at a pale pink Indian Paintbrush in the meadows below Marmot Pass. Already I had spotted a Common Paintbrush and Scarlett Paintbrush and possibly another one or two. And that wasn't counting the myriad other wildflowers along the trek up to Marmot Pass. Along the way there were Twinflowers, Tiger Lilies, Red Columbine, Fireweed, False Solomon's Seal, Penstemon, Nootka Roses - the list goes on and on. But it was the variety of Paintbrushes that stood out on this trip.

It's a long hill to climb to Marmot Pass and even on this chilled and cloudy summer day, we were all sweating to make the top. The forest gave us glimpses of the chaos nature can bring when thrashed with a storm. As we quickly climbed through the forest along the Quilcene River, deadfall littered each bank and the forest floor. Flowers peeked out from around stumps and greenery. As the way became steeper, the forest started opening up to grander views topped by low hanging clouds. I could only imagine the splendor we'd have seen if the sky had been clear - the view was beautiful as it was.

We came across a meadow filled with color, followed by another one and another. Soon we reached the meadow below the pass filled with pinks and yellows - all I wanted to do was stop and spend an hour or more shooting. But the color didn't stop there. All along the final climb to the pass were more varieties of flowers and more colors until we reached our destination looking to the interior of the Olympic Mountains. The clouds thinned a bit and the views for lunch makes me want to return, again and again.

Hot, Dry, and Dusty

Koppen Mtn Loop Attempt, 7/20/08, 10 miles, 2000 elevation

Admittedly, we shouldn't have been over east of the mountains after July 4th. The heat is just too much for. However, the hike we signed up for was actually near Mt Rainier - a much cooler destination, temperature-wise. But our original destination had to change due to impassable road conditions. So we found ourselves on the eastside of the mountains, hiking in the middle of July. I'm a westside girl, anything above 78 degrees and I'd rather sit in the A/C contributing to global warming.

Here I found myself in the Teanaway. I had been told there would be great views. I had been told there would be wildflowers. I had been told there would be water along the way. The reality of the situation was there were water and flowers along the 1st mile but beyond that, heat and dust dominated our day. We had a few good views, but along with those views came treacherous trails along precipitous traverses.

Some time after lunch, as we scrambled up rocks and talus, we the leaders stopped to discuss our options. One of our member was not in the least pleased in the trail conditions -especially the heights and requested he be allowed to turn back. A few offered to turn back with him as the rest let it be known that they would like to continue on the loop.

In the end wee stayed together as a group and turned back. It was on the way back that the heat finally took it's toll on my system. I started to get a bit incoherent, my feet didn't want to work, and my electrolyte drink seemed so far away in my pack. Luckily Michael was able to get me revitalized before the final push to the cars.

Then as a final slap in the face, the burger joint we stopped at in CleElum for milkshakes didn't accept debit cards and with no cash what were we to do?

Can't I Stay Here, Forever?

Esmerelda Basin, 7/6/08, 7 miles,

The valley stretched out before me, green tones for miles, ending with the still snowy mountain rising up from the forest green to balance together the earth and sky. Somewhere behind me, Michael was curled up in the shade of a few alpine-sparse trees taking a nap on this perfect day. Zillah trotted around the pass searching out new and different smells looking up every now and then to make sure I haven't left her.

Here would be our turn-around point - Fortune Cookie Pass - but I had no desire to return. The valley and mountains beyond called to me. The barely-visible trail leading up to the peak through the snow banks whispered my name and promises of an even more enticing view from above. Yet even those calls to my inner thoughts couldn't move me. At the pass I was happy, standing in the sun and wind. This view was the view I had been hoping for all summer and the snows had kept me from for so long. It was a view of open air where a person could see for miles without obstruction from a vantage point that is tundra-like in its sparseness of vegetation. And my soul had ached for it throughout the wintry June on the wet-side.

As Michael rumbled awake, stretching out the kinks and knots, I hoped he would want to sit for the afternoon on the fallen tree overlooking the valley. Zillah bounded up to him as he sat next to me and commented on the chill wind. I paid the wind no mind; I called Michael a wimp. But I knew it was time to leave. To head back down the talus field to the flower-filled meadows below, past the waterfalls and pine trees, to the car waiting below to take us home again.

But couldn't I just stay here?

Well Worth a Sprinkle, or Two

De Rouex Creek, 7/5/08, 8.2 miles,

4th of July weekend and wee had 3 days to play, but with snow still hanging out in all of primary choices on the westside of the mountains we decided that heading east would be the better of the bargain. There are a couple of trails in the Teanaway we wanted to explore and with a base camp somewhere along the river, we could easily head to each.

First on the list was DeRouex Creek. I had been up this trail previously with the Mountaineer's Naturalist Class and wanted to head further into the mountains than the naturalists had gotten. With spotty clouds overhead Michael, Zillah and I crossed the North Fork of the Teanaway and started out on the day's adventure. Almost immediately the wildflowers lined the trail - Lomatium, Jeffrey's Shooting Star, Red Columbine, Vanilla Leaf and Violets.

As we climbed higher, we came across Penstemon, Arnica, Liuna, and Asters in greaterr abundance. And then the trees opened up to meadow with more Shooting Stars and our first Avalanche Lilies, but the clouds that had been building throughout the morning started to let loose in spurts. We were prepared and threw on our rain coats before continuing on up to Gallagher Head Lake. Along the way we saw more Columbine, Arnica, Shooting Stars, Lupine and Avalanche Lilies.

There were only a few people at the lake when we reached its shores and clouds obscured the peaks enough that all we got were teasing glimpses of what stood beyond. However, there is an old jeep road leading up to the lake and some 4-wheelers had played too often and too close to the shore and deep ruts had been created and left for the rest of the world to look upon in disgust.

Two Lakes in a Day

Fragrance and Lost Lakes, 6/15/08, 10 Miles, 1700 Elevation

On the way to Bellingham, between I-5 and the Puget Sound, stands a mountain. Not a great mountain by any measure in Washington, but a significant hill none the less. large enough in size to house two little lakes and a 10-mile hike between the two. So on this day, a bright day over Washington, the CHS hikers made their way up the mountain to first Fragrance Lake then to Lost Lake.

Fragrance Lake is a small-ish lake set in a divot in the sandstone hill. The interesting thing about this area, is that there is a vein of sandstone that runs along the Puget Sound from the Northwest to the Southeast through Chuckanut Mountain. Sandstone is not seen in Washington very much - if you want to see it up-close and personal come to Chuckanut Mountain. The cliffs that surround Fragrance Lake show this vein nicely.

After leaving Fragrance Lake we climbed up over a hill to a long trough cut into the mountain cradling Lost Lake. We sat above the lake for lunch with views from one end to the other. Across the lake stood a snag that none of us took much notice of until someone pointed out movement on one of the branches - a bald eagle sat there perfectly camouflaged against the dark forest behind.

So although this little mountain doesn't look like much compared to the greater mountains in the cascades, its flanks still hold the beauty we expect to see in what wee'd consider "true wilderness."

In June, a Little Snow will Fall

Stuart Lake, 6/7/08, 8 miles, 1500 elevation

Snow was forecast for the Cascade passes for the 1st weekend in June. Snow! In June! Unbelievable! But our CHS hike leader was one jump ahead of the forecast by planning a hike to Lake Stuart in eastern Washington. We could go farther and higher as the snow was rapidly melting from the mountainous areas outside of Leavenworth. Lake Stuart would be our destination.

Even as we started out, we noticed that the snow had not been long from even the trailhead. Ferns and shrubs were just beginning to spring back from the oppressive weight of the winter snows. But there along the trail sprouting happily in preparation of blossoms were Queen's Cup leaves. A short way further tender pink Lady Slippers gleamed in the filtered sunlight.

The trail follows the creek all the way to the lake and we stopped for a short breathe where the trail crosses it on a nice sturdy bridge. Later we stopped again at the trail junction with Colchuck Lake. We seemed to be going at a more casual pace this trip and were able to enjoy each other's company more than on a few of the other trips I had been on.

It was just beyond the junction when the forest opened up into a wide meadow with Dragontail Peak and breaking clouds just beyond. Cameras were pulled out so we could each capture this lovely scene before continuing on. Snow still clinging to winter and the trail slowed our progress just before we reached Stuart Lake and our lunch spot. And it was here that our day became interesting.

Although we had been hiking in the sun for most of the way, in the lake basin clouds gathered and a cold stiff wind swept off the lake. It felt like winter. Just as we finished up lunch and were pulling out our remaining layers to bundle up more, the snow started fluttering down around us. It was definitely time to head back. Then, sure enough, 1/4 mile down the trail the clouds broke apart and we had to peel off the layers as we heated up.

I think the latest I had ever been snowed upon was the year I spent my birthday (August) on the top of Mt Evans in Colorado (a 14er). While this definitely won't be the latest, it will be a trip I won't easily forget - and not just because of the weather.