Willapa Peninsula

1/13-1/15/07 SW Washington

I have fond memories of Long Beach Peninsula, spending time with my grandmother and cousins on this narrow spit of land that swings up the coast from the mouth of the Columbia. I had visited many times during the summers of my youth and found comfort there again after the death of a beloved uncle. This year I decided to share my lovely peninsula with a few of my fellow Mountaineer Photographers. The peninsula holds many opportunities for photographers, from sweeping ocean vistas to historic old homes and a few lighthouses thrown in for fun.

We rented yurts at the Cape Disappointment State Park for the weekend and arrived Saturday afternoon to a bitterly cold welcome – not from the park staff but from the temperature of the yurts. The yurts were advertised as being heated – however, there is only so much heated defense that can be produced by a small 1200 watt heater against a frigid cold winter the likes of which are rarely seen in the northwest. We quickly settled in and set out to explore our immediate environs, hoping the activity would keep us warmer. Our first stop was a Waikiki Beach to photograph the Cape Disappointment lighthouse atop the cliff. As we finished here, the light began fading although a few breaks could be seen with a slight orange color reflected in the wet sand. So, we gathered together for dinner in Ilwaco and a chilly night in our mausoleum-cold yurts.

It really doesn’t take too long for my sleeping bag to warm up and luckily Saturday night was no different. I woke up pre-dawn and comfortably changed into some warm clothes for my Sunday romp. Two of my compatriots and I had plans of heading to Ledbetter Wildlife Refuge at the tip of the peninsula for sunrise and what a beautiful sunrise it was. During the night, our cloud cover cleared off to reveal a star-filled night sky and for our interests that morning a bright yellow and orange sunrise over the bay. As the morning warmed, I walked along the beach with a myriad of seashells and birds in the surf and birds in the grass. I hadn’t been relaxed for several weeks and here my troubles seemed to melt away – at least something was melting. The water in the bay had begun to freeze and had washed ice chips ashore and built a little wave barricade between surf and shore.

After I rejoined my morning photo partners, we headed into Oysterville – a town I knew all too well. This is where Grandma had lived. Oysterville is a small town with wonderful old houses, a church filled with character and oyster shell lined streets. OK, they are now paved, but that’s how I remember them. We journeyed on to the local cemetery then sought out the windless kite flying festival in Long Beach. Yes, you read that right – windless kite flying. This was absolutely fascinating to watch. These kites are so light that just the tension on the cords is enough to keep the kite aloft. We ventured back down to Cape Disappointment to visit the Lewis & Clark Interpretive Center and tour the North Head lighthouse before heading back into Ilwaco for a walk around the marina. It was decided that sunset at the North Head lighthouse would be the best place and we watched a orange and red sunset on a day that had been sparkling clear if not just a little chilly.

After dinner in Ilwaco, we all journeyed back to our yurts. However, my yurt had developed a beeping problem – the battery in the smoke detector died and the detector emitted an intermittent beep to let us know this fact. As we knew we’d never sleep with the noise, we packed up and headed to our other yurt across the way and four of us settled into a little warmer of a night – body heat really does help. Sunrise the next morning was admired along the Columbia River and after a short stroll on the beach, we were all ready to go home to warm up as best we could.

New Year's Eve

1/1/07 Olympic Coast

I can think of no better way to ring in a new year than snuggled in my tent beneath snow-covered mountains or tall stately trees. This year we welcomed 2007 by sleeping on a bluff overlooking the Pacific Ocean. But first we made a little tour around the north end of the Olympic Peninsula.

We packed up the puppies Saturday and drove to Sequim, hoping to camp at the Dungeness Spit. Sadly, the campground is closed during the winter and we had to figure out our next plan as night was fast approaching. Kudos to the Washington State Park system as we can usually find a campground open - our Saturday night was spent overlooking Sequim Bay. We were beginning to regret our decision as most people crazy enough to camp in the dead of winter are at least intelligent enough to do it in campers, with generators. After 5 days of listening to our neighbor's generator during the last power outage, I was not thrilled about listening to our temporary neighbor's power source. By 10, though, the campground was silent except for the occasional wave lapping up against the rocks. Thank you temporary camping neighbor.

We awoke early the next morning to catch the possible sunrise on Hurricane Ridge. The road to the ridge is closed until dawn, but we were there waiting when the rangers opened the gate and we weere able to watch the sun make it's way across the sky, through the infrequent breaks in the clouds. The wind, blowing harsh and cold convinced us that a few hours on the ridge snowshoeing wouldn't be the best way to spend the morning. So we let the puppies play in the snow a bit and went on our way to Kalaloch.

It rained on and off on our drive out to the beach and sprinkled lightly on us as we set up camp. But dried up a bit as we walked along the beach watching the clam-diggers, many coming up the beach empty-handed. The rain came back as wee settled into our tent, the puppies curled up on our feet. A few of our neighbors whooped it up at midnight, but Michael & I just wished each other a happy new year then nestled back into our sleeping bags.

Happy New Year!

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.