Ranger Creek Snowshoe

11/24/06

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

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

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

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

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

Nelson, BC

One of my favorite movies, especially in the romance genre, is Roxanne with Steve Martin & Daryl Hannah. The movie, if you haven't seen it, is set in a wonderful little mountain town named Nelson that I adore and have wanted to visit, but never found out where it's located. One night as Michael & I sat watching Roxanne, I mentioned that I would love to visit that little town in the mountains. The next morning, I awoke expecting a conditioning hike in preparation for the next week's backpack. Instead, we went on a surprise road trip.

He refused to tell me where we were heading - and let me tell you, trying to cross the Canadian border when you're trying to be secretive is a very interesting experience. Then you throw in the fact that we are from Seattle, drove to Spokane and crossed the border at the last border crossing before entering Idaho (it was on a dirt road folks). The customs agent had to have been thinking "do I strip-search them or not" as Michael was being evasive about our destination. Believe me, border guards now-a-days don't take "we're just out for a drive" light-heartedly. I actually did guess our destination earlier in the trip but Michael wasn't about to let it slip even when our passports were being questioned. We finally made it past the confused customs agent and soon came across a road sign for none other than Nelson.

The town is even more spectacular than I had imagined. Set on a hillside overlooking a large lake with another large hill (mountain) on the other side. The green of pine trees and fresh summer gardens filled every inch of the landscape. We spent the afternoon walking around town enjoying the gardens, architecture and park found ourselves a sweet little B&B and settled in as the sun set behind the opposite mountain. The next morning we awoke with the dawn and ventured out on an architectural tour of town. Nelson is a Victorian mining town and the homes and businesses have in the older part of town have either maintained their appearance or been built for the appearance. Simply put, I felt at times in another time that morning on our stroll around town where our only companions were the dog lazily barking as we passed or the cat who couldn't get enough tummy rubs and followed us for a block flopping on her side for more every time we stopped.

We finally had to leave our respite in a slower paced time and drive back towards Seattle. I was sad to go - I didn't believe I had spent enough time exploring the ins and outs of Nelson, but there are other weekends when a road trip is just what we need more than a hike.

Halloween Volksmarch

10/28/06 - 10K

Every Halloween, my sister, Kristi, & I along with Michael, our friend Diane and her son Randy head to Remlinger Farms in Carnation for the annual Halloween Volksmarch. We'll also take the puppies along for a refreshing walk in farming country. Generally we dress up for the occasion wearing costumes as varied as farm animals to cereal killers. (yes, I spelled that correctly.) The walk meanders around Remlinger Farms and the town of Carnation, along the Tolt River and through Big Leaf Maples.

This year Kristi & her dachshund Joey dressed up as hippies, just too cute the both of them. Randy came dressed in Scottish attire which looked fitting to the facial hair he's beginning to grow and his broad shoulders. Kristi's other dog Frankie came as a witch which is pretty normal for her - that, or the other itch word. Sometimes she's not a very good dog. Michael & I however didn't dress up at all nor did we get the dogs anything fun to wear - but they didn't seem to mind too much.

It was a glorious day as the fog burned off and the colors of autumn sparkled with dew. We enjoyed the morning; filled with chatter, walking, and laughs.

Quinault River

6/10/06 - 12 miles

We were training for our epic hike in a month - a hike that had thwarted us twice before. This time we weren't taking any chances. Our longest hike for our trip would be ten miles of climbing in & out of steep ravines. So, we figured if we could hike up one of the river trails in the Olympic Park for six miles. That way, we would get a long mileage day under our belts before we had to really exert ourselves. We chose for the trip a trail neither of us had really explored - the Quinault River trail.

This trail extends into Enchanted Valley, but we weren't going to be able to make it that far. Six miles upriver and a turnaround would be a long enough day. Enchanted Valley would have to wait until later. Our day was covered with clouds but in this rainforest, the light shines through even the heaviest of moss covered trees. And as with rainforests, the recent rains that threatened to return all through the day, had soaked the trail to mud.

Now, I just want to say quickly that when you're hiking in the northwest - especially in a rainforest, hikers should expect to walk in mud. What is the excuse to walking around muddy spots on the trail only to create larger muddy spots and also destroying the plant life on the side of the trail? This is the reason we have hiking boots and gaiters people! Basically, what I am saying is that there is no reason to walk around mud in the trail - in the northwest we should expect it.

Now that I'm off that soapbox, the evidence of spring along the trail was everywhere wee looked. The vivid greens of the trees to the flowers on the forest floor we soaked up the vitality into our steps. Our way up the valley was slowed as we kept looking at the wonderfully large trees stretching into the sky and clinging to each limb; moss, mushrooms, and an assortment of other plants. As Michael oohed and aahed over the moss, we came across one large specimen of a tree that took our breathe away.

We finally stopped at a nice place near the river for lunch and rested under the trees. Both of us remarked that these huge trees are also subject to the ravages of the mother nature. Many trees, upwards to 5 feet in diameter, had been blown down over the river, their roots undermined by the raging river. Here these mighty trees were also vulnerable, subject to processes that weather brings.

We finally had had enough of rest and contemplation and went on our way. And just to test ourselves, we sped through the forest as fast as we could leaving in half the time it took us to go in.

Hoh River

10/20/06-10/22/06

Drip-ploink, drip-ploink, drip-ploink. Last weekend I had driven to the Hoh Rainforest for a bit of reconnasance for a mountaineer's photo trip the following weekend. I was looking for fall color and maybe a few elk. By the time I had arrived, a steady rain had been falling for several days and the moss was swollen with the rain. The air around me hushed and silent except for the dripping of raindrops from leaf to leaf the saturated ground. As I was only there to check on the progress of the fall colors, I was soon heading back to my car. But something pulled me back to the shelter of the visitor center's overhanging eaves. It was the quiet and stillness of the place. The same quiet I had relished as a child and relied on in my adult years. This was a special place to me, almost sacred - a place I believe God comes to pray. And here I had to leave, not wanting to, not feeling as restored as I knew I could be - but I would be back in a week.

The following weekend wasn't wet at all but sunny and autumn bright. The light streamed through the same leaves that the week before filtered the rain. Leaves that seemed dull before were brilliant overhead creating a sun-like glow een in the most shaded areas. I meandered along the nature trails (Hall of Mosses & Spruce Trail) and ventured a bit up the Hoh River trail. Sat on a sandbar along the Hoh where I could see the mountains up the valley but not Mt Olympus. I took photos of all sorts of mushrooms and turning foliage and on Sunday morning a few elk cows ventured near the campground. The mountaineers group I led all seemed to enjoy themselves during a weekend of nature, photography, and campfires.

There is a different feeling to the Hoh when the sun comes out. There is still a comfort like sitting on my mother's lap, but not the enveloping comfort as when she wrapped me in her arms. I'm not sure if it felt different mainly from the weather or from the fact that this time I wasn't alone. Usually I am at the Hoh by myself in times of need, when I need a quick hug from my mother. Here I was in the Hoh with people, most of whom I hadn't met until a few nights ago - all wonderful people, but just not the same. But of course, this is the rainforest and what's a rainforest without rain? The silent solitude found when rain splashes from the leaves isn't there when the sun splashes instead.

But as I sat in the glow of the campfire, watching the stars above and listening to the river alongside the campsite, my accostomed calm came across me and I smiled a deep smile. My mother's arms had enfolded me.

Elwha Valley

5/30/06 7 miles

Memorial Day weekend. I had planned three days of camping and hiking in the Olympics, however weather seemed to interfere with most of those plans. We got to camp in Heart-of-the-Hills campground which I hadn't slept in since I was a young child dreaming of a life in the mountains. That experience brought back a flood of memories, mostly warm and cozy in a very damp forest. And we did get to hike a bit on Saturday, probably the best day that we had. As the snow was still hanging on in the upper regions and had hindered our planned hike, we opted for one of the river hikes - namely the Elwha.

I had been on this trail a year earlier with another friend, but because of limited time we only hiked the Geyser Valley loop. An enjoyable hike, but since we were also training for our trip along the wonderland later in the summer, I was hoping for more distance. Our plan was to go up the river as far as we could, turning back when weather or fatigue forced us.

Spring growth covered the forest floor; fresh new green of ferns, vanilla leaf, vine maples and berries. We walked through this vibrant green world when we heard the first of the distinctive sound that gave Geyser Valley it's name - grouse call. In the near past during the early explorations of the Olympic Peninsula, explorers and trappers heard the distinctive whoop, whoop, whoop of grouse, combined with the swirling mists from the river chasms led these adventurous men to mistakenly believe that geysers lay in the valley. And while we walked through these hushed woods we were accompanied by grouse.

We soon came across Michael's cabin, built by an early settler who made his way in the woods serving the locals by hunting cougars and later became a respite for travellers through the Olympics. A little further up the valley we detoured to see Humes Ranch, another early settler. A deer quietly grazed in the meadow in front of the cabin - I spotted her but a young family on the trail missed her until Michael pointed her out for them. The deer continued to graze oblivious to her observers. By this time the sun had come out to warm up the valley, sunlight glinting of the moist vegetation, and we were faced with a decision. We could continue along the Geyser Valley loop, head back to the main trail an follow it up as far as we wanted along the Elwha, or take a branch over across the river and towards Dodger Point. We had been warned by the rangers that the upper elevations of Dodger Point were still snow-covered, but we decided to head that way anyway and turn back when we needed to.

The rivers in the Olympics can be extremely temperamental and the Elwha is no exception. We crossed areas of landslides where the river had eroded the hillside below and took the rest of the hillside with it leaving behind soft loose earth that gives uncertainty to your footsteps. We reached the bridge across the river at the base of the Grand Canyon of the Elwha and sat for lunch on the other side. The only other living thing we saw during lunch was a spider weaving a web between the leaves of a huckleberry bush.

The trail to Dodger Point had not yet been cleaned up from the winter blow-downs and we needed to cross several trees stretched across the our path. But we weren't in a hurry and weren't concerned with time lost. At some point we decided it was time to head back home and retraced our steps back to the trailhead. As the afternoon slipped by clouds came back in to cover the valley and we were greeted by falling mist as we returned to camp.

Sheep Lake

I've decided to go back and look at other hikes we've done over this summer & maybe even prior to that. No real reason - just my desire to share. So if it seems like I'm skipping around, that's because I am.

8/6/06 3 miles

What happens when you mix an early morning hike with early summer weather? A surprisingly secluded lakeshore teaming with wildflowers. I drug Michael out of bed in the pre-dawn hours so I could take a few pictures of Mt Rainier at sunrise from Tipsoo Lake. The dogs, on the other hand were raring to go and quickly scrambled out the door and into the car. Our plan was to hike the Naches Loop after sunrise and be home early in the afternoon. What we didn't realize and what any good map would have shown us was that 1/2 the Naches Loop trail is inside the National Park boundary and off-limits to dogs. After a quick perusal of our options, we chose to head to Sheep Lake - a little 3-mile round trip hike from Chinook Pass.

Sheep Lake is along the Pacific Crest Trail and the placement traversing the hillside makes its profile to be relatively flat from trailhead to lake. After the summer we had in the northwest, the trail was extremely dry and dust clouds rose all around from our 12 feet pounding along. We watched the cars pass along the highway below sparkling in the rising sun as they drove along into the weekend. A mile later the trail turns into the woods and relative coolness from the trees. It wasn't much longer before we came upon the lakeshore.

Up until then, the flowers had been rather sparse along the trail. However once we came out into the meadow that embraced this little aquatic gem, the flowers didn't just color the shore they saturated it. Amongst the cottongrass grew cascade aster, spirea, elephants head, paintbrush and more. As Micheal took a nap with the dogs, I explored the lakeshore and meadow, coming across several nice campsites - a few occupied with young families. This is a perfect hike for families with young children - with not too much work you're in a mountain bowl filled with an alpine lake and expansive flower-filled meadows. And to top that, the lake itself looked as if it was boiling as the fish jumped to catch the mosquitoes hovered just above the surface. After a few hours, we head back out to even drier and hotter conditions.

We weren't 1/2 mile from the trailhead when Pasco our young Shar-Pei mix decided he had had enough of the walking, the heat, and the dust laid down in what little shade he could find and refused to budge. With more than a push and a shove, we finally got him moving again. We finally reached the parking lot that had quickly filled up during our little outing.