Taking Flight

The finger resting on my camera's shutter release had already lost feeling, numb from exposure to the frigid January morning. But morning is one of the best times to photograph birds which is why we were at the Billy Frank Jr Nisqually Wildlife Refuge - we were photographing birds.

It had been a few years since my last visit to the refuge and I'd had a bit of a hankering to get back down there, but I also wanted to schedule a trip during high tide in hopes of seeing more duck closer in. After checking the tide charts for the area, I decided to run down on the last Sunday in January. Then I thought it would be fun to invite a few people to join me and opened up an activity through the Seattle Mountaineers.

I was joined by my sister, a couple of our friends, a hiking buddy and a few new people in my life. Most were naturalists of some type who had no problem telling this non-birder about the birds we were seeing. One participant drew my attention. He is the the director of the State Parks Foundation, the fundraising partner for the Washington State Parks Commission. A person of interest for a photographer writing a book about the state parks.

We chatted a bit about birds and a little about the book. He even gave me a few ideas on finding a boat or two to get me to the smaller islands in the San Juans. And when he and another fellow had difficulty with their cameras, I was able to step in with my expertise and help them make the necessary adjustments.

By the end of the morning, my spirit took flight with hope and joy that my project has support and I will be able to finish.

Washington State Parks: South Cle Elum Railyard

Each step landed with a poof. A soft sound of gentle air lifting a fine dust of snow. Powdery snow floats and swirls around our ankles for seconds before coming to rest again; to mix with snow appearing undisturbed by our passing. The only sign we were there, a shallow trench dug by our snowshoes. We stop at each sign on the history trail, imagining a world long ago past and what historical treasures might be hidden beneath the snow.

South Cle Elum Railyard is an affiliated state park narrating the story of the once great Milwaukee Railroad. In the early 1900’s, the Milwaukee Railroad decided to expand into the northwest to compete with two other transcontinental railroads that were already established in the area – the Northern Pacific Railroad and the Great Northern Railway. Division points where locomotives were serviced, crews switched, and passenger embarked and dis-embarked were located 100-150 miles apart. South Cle Elum became one of these division points. The Milwaukee Road ceased its operations in Washington during the 1980’s and transferred ownership of the rail station to the state to “pay” its tax debt. In 2003, the rail yard and buildings were listed on the National Register of Historical Places.

A short trail loops through an eastern Washington meadow. Look for wildflowers and small birds as you pass from one interpretive sign to the next. Remnants of the rail yard still exist in the meadow and can add interesting details to your images. The old rail station houses a BBQ restaurant and museum but still has its early 20^th century charm with multi-paned windows and wide wooden platforms with benches to sit upon and watch the afternoon drift away.

Getting There: From Snoqualmie Pass follow I-90 east to exit 84 (Cle Elum/S Cle Elum). Continue on 1^st Street to S Cle Elum Way, turn right. Turn right on Madison Ave then left on 6th Street. Turn right on Milwaukee to the parking lot. From Ellensburg follow 1-90 west to exit 84 (Cle Elum). Continue on Oakes Ave to 1^st Street, turn left. Turn left onto S Cle Elum way and follow directions above.

Misdirection

It was day 3 of a 5-day backpack and I had lost the trail. The “trail” I had been following petered out to nothing more than an animal track in the alpine tundra. The rest of my party were coming up behind me and my mind racing as to what to do. And this was supposed to be a nice easy trip too.

After my dog ate a hole in the dry wall large enough for a herd of wildebeest to migrate through, my sister and I started backpacking during the doggy-terrifying 4th of July holiday. This year we had decided on a 5-day excursion in the Buckhorn Wilderness of Olympic National Forest and invited a couple of friends and another dog to join us. 

We planned on 5 days for a 30-mile, leisurely paced, loop that our friends who weren't accustomed to backpacking would find enjoyable. It had been 20 years since Holly had backpacked and this would be Evie's 1st time. Our route took us up Copper Creek to Buckhorn Lake then over to Marmot Pass and out the Upper Dungeness. This route had the added bonus of being far enough away from fireworks to protect the drywall from the dog.

We gathered mid-morning on day one and my sister, Kristi, handed to each of us a  map she printed off from AllTrails with our route highlighted. We made it to our 1^st night’s camp near Tubal Cain Mine easily and explored the area. Day 2 found us at Buckhorn Lake, relaxing in view of Buckhorn Mountain.

Everything on Day 3 started out perfectly. Wispy clouds drifted in and around Buckhorn Mountain, but the weather was warm and sunny while we broke down camp. I had become the defacto leader of the group since my dog, Zillah, and I were in front and I had traveled most of the route before. Day 3 would be on the section of trail I had never hiked. I folded my map to the section we were hiking and stuffed it in an easily accessible pocket. Really, I didn’t think we’d need the map as most trails in the area are well-marked.

We hiked out from the lake to the main trail and continued our climb to Marmot Pass, our expected camp for the night. Zillah and I led the way and soon Kristi, Evie and Holly were several switchbacks behind. By late morning, I had climbed beyond most of the trees and sat to wait for the rest of my group. I watched other hikers and backpackers pass me on their way up or down keeping an eye out on their route so I could point it out to my friends and feel more confident as we continued. I also watched the clouds as they had been building throughout the morning often obscuring Buckhorn Mountain and the ridges on its flanks. It was still sunny where we were but the wind was picking up and I wondered if we might need to push on to Boulder Camp further along on our route.

Just before the rest of my group met up with me, a small group of day-hikers came upon me - they told me they were camping at Camp Mystery just below Marmot Pass and were heading down to Buckhorn Lake. We exchanged information and they continued on. Once we all gathered together, we found a secluded area out of the wind for lunch. I mentioned the hikers and pointed out the route that we’d be taking – just a few more switchbacks and over a little knoll then it would be relatively flat for a bit.

At some point after topping out over the knoll, I spotted a trail that I believed to be our trail – the trail we would never reach. But we had reached the alpine tundra and were enjoying a stroll through the higher altitude. The clouds covered most of the sky above us, occasionally drifting down to shroud the landscape in a misty fog. And it was here I lost the trail.

My first error was following the group of day-hikers I had talked to earlier. They passed us on their return and I thought that they must know where they’re going. I was paying more attention to where they were going than where the trail was going. They ended up going cross country and climbing up on a ridge along Buckhorn Mountain. I began to realize that they weren’t going the direction we wanted to go.

Our second error was to think we still had to go forward instead of turning back to the last place we knew where we were. I suggested we skirt around the snow patch that blocked our way and continue on, while Holly found what looked like a trail off on one side. And instead of turning back, we too climbed up to the ridge along Buckhorn Mountain and again lost the trail.

By now the cold wind had picked up and the clouds around us were alternating between a thick fog and a thin fog. There was no way for me to get our bearing by compass. Holly again scouted and found what this time looked like a real trail but which way should we go. Without a line of sight, I couldn’t get my bearing or figure out where we were on the map or which way we would need to go to get to Marmot Pass. I was figuring we go right on the trail but after my previous misdirections, my friends were hesitant to believe me. And I really couldn’t blame them for my confidence was shaken.

Our relief came as a pair of hikers approached us from the left. They had also made the mistake of climbing the ridge as we had and were hesitant to go the same route back to Buckhorn Lake. I explained our dilemma and asked if they knew which way Marmot Pass was but they weren’t positive. We pulled out our maps and he pulled out his altimeter. We were 600 feet above the pass.

We turned right to head down the trail not up. Soon we were out of the clouds and heading to Marmot Pass. One look at the angry clouds over the pass and the frigid wind coming through, we opted to continue to Boulder Camp for the night. The rest of our trip was quiet and uneventful.

One happy occurrence while we descended off Buckhorn Mountain, we met a nanny goat, her kid and a juvenile. It was a thrilling moment for Evie and Holly who hadn’t been that close to goats before.

Lessons learned:

1.     Don’t blindly follow people on the trail. They may not be going the same direction you are or they might not know where they’re going themselves. If I had stopped to evaluate the other group, I would have taken better note that only one of them seemed well-prepared to be out hiking.

2.     Do drop your pack if necessary and scout behind you. We may have lost the trail only a few hundred yards back. If any one of us had been willing to do that, we may have found the point where we went off trail.

3.     Altimeters aren’t only for climbers. If I had one I might have noticed earlier that we should have been dropping in elevation instead of climbing. We would have had more information to make decisions earlier.

I’m still curious as to where we lost the trail. I’d like to make a reverse trip soon so I can find the trail.

Firsts

The snow lightly falling through the forest.

Snowflakes on your eyelashes.

The soft crunch of the snow under your snowshoes.

The biting cold numbing your nose, your ears, your cheeks.

Life is filled with firsts that are not soon forgotten. Do you remember your first snowshoe?

I do - I climbed up Mt Catherine near Snoqualmie Pass to learn how to glissade and self-arrest for a climb up Mt St Helens. It was a tough go for me but I ended the day satisfied that I had learned new skills and eager for more.

Just as memorable is being with a child as they experience their first snowshoe.

On January 1st of this year, I accompanied my sister and her granddaughter on her first snowshoe.

We meandered along Wenatchee Crest off Blewett Pass. The wind carried falling snow through the trees and coated our hats. No views were to be had, but snowball fights and snow angels were aplenty. Giggles and laughter floated through the air with the snow.

I'm sure she'll remember her first snowshoe - I know I will.

Three Little Words

It was a call I wasn't expecting from a number I didn't recognize so the phone was left vibrating on the table.

It was my cousin T and in her message she said to call her anytime. So I did.

The voice on the other end of the phone sounded as normal as ever.

"Can you text me your sister's number?" Pause. "I have bad news."

Bad news? Cousin T doesn't have bad news. Her very existence in the world reminds me of all that is good in my life.

"Mom has cancer."

It's the kind of news that makes you go numb. The rest of the conversation is blur of words.

"She's alert."

"Refusing treatment."

"Don't know how much longer."
"She's known for a while."
"We're supporting her in her decisions."

Maybe I shouldn't have called when I had, before heading to bed.

My thoughts went to memories of a woman cooking delicious food in her kitchen. She was always in her kitchen. Always making something warm, nutritional and filled with love. My mom would sit in her kitchen and they'd share  family news while I sat on mom's lap listening to their conversations wrapped in the comfort of mom's arms and Auntie's kitchen.

Memories of my teen years when I decided not to like her very much. She is a woman who doesn't mince words being of good sound farmer stock where telling the truth in as few words as possible is a virtue. I didn't see it like that. I didn't like how she spoke to my mom. I didn't want to see the truth.

Then in my later years, when I came back home to take care of Dad. I uprooted my life for family. Unsure of what was to become my future. It was in her living embrace where I found comfort. In her words I learned to stand on my own.

Years ago she broke her leg and I went down for a few days to help care for her. I stood in her kitchen and made her meals - warn, nutritional and filled with love.

Let Go

We met in college, my 1st husband and I. He was nice and paid attention to me, a shy girl who rarely went on dates. We started dating and a few months later he proposed. I said yes.

After we were married, the problems started. The warnings were there prior to our wedding, but I had ignored them not really knowing any better. Life was supposed to get better after marriage, right?

I knew I would never give him children when he woke up in the middle of the night and threw my cat against the walk because Checkers walked across him.

His dream was to be a photojournalist. I encouraged him to follow his dreams because that's what wives do and I stood by him while he pursued his dream. We went to Ohio so he could attend a top school.

It was there that it really got worse. Everything that went wrong in his life or that he imagined went wrong, was my fault. He didn't get the class he wanted - my fault. He didn't pass a test - my fault. The river flooded us into our rental home - my fault.

Jealousy followed me everywhere. His professor mentioned once I was a better photographer then he was - he put my photography down at every opportunity. I even quit photography to make him happy. If he saw me talking to a male classmate I must be having an affair. I withdrew from having friends.

Sadly, none of that helped. He had his own demons he was fighting. He decided one day to use his fists on me to fight them. The day I showed up at a friends in tears and bruises and she escorted me to the emergency was the start of my freedom from his terror.

The journey to freedom would take another 20+ years.

I tried for years to let go of my resentment for him and how he treated me to no avail. I held onto it like a frazzled old teddy bear that had long ago lost is usefulness in keeping me comfortable.

On this last day of 2016, while driving over Stevens Pass I began thinking about the progress of my photography from those early years in film. And I thought of my 1st husband and how at time he struggled with photography and wondered how he might be doing. I wondered if he had finally found a path that would give him joy. I hoped that he was happy and doing well in his life.

And realized that I had finally forgiven him and let go of my anger and resentment.

I smiled for myself and sent a little wish of well being to him, wherever he is.

My Favorite Photos from 2016

A Baker's Dozen

Twenty-sixteen was at times a stressful year, at times busy and always an adventure. Here are my favorite images from 2016, in no real order. Hope one of your favorites made the list.

1. Little English Daisy - composite image - I continued my journey creating composite and textured images of flowers this year. It's exciting for me to create these images as if a real artisic potential exists. This was one of my favorites this year.

2. Moon and Silos - while journeying into Eastern Washington with a group of fellow Mountaineer photographers, we stopped in this little town known for it's old crumbling schoolhouse. We were hoping to photograph stars above the schoolhouse. As we waited, a truck drove by us on the dirt road kicking up dust that spread a bit like a fog near the silos. I liked the color in the sky with the moon and the added "atmosphere". 

3. Stars above Umatilla Rock - on the same trip as the image above, after we left the schoolhouse we made it back to camp at Dry Falls State Park. I ventured out to capture the stars above Umatilla Rock and Voc Meyers Lake.

4. Autumn Ptarmigan - sometimes walking alone in the wilderness can lead to some serendipitous moments. But this was along side the road near Heather Meadows at Mt Baker. I startled her and her family. As the others ducked for cover, she watched me with a wary eye as I snapped a few photos. A perfect moment, perfect exposure, perfect background.

5. Mt Rainier in Autumn - for me this image captures the magic of autumnal change in the mountains. As the lower slopes are brilliant with color, the upper slopes are quickly covered in snow.

6. Silver Fox - talk about another serendipitous moment. While I was photographing a scene on San Juan Island this little guy snuck up behind me to watch what I was doing. I turned around and he trotted off a bit then looked over his shoulder at me. We hung out for about 20 minutes. It was a special moment that I will always cherish.

7. Hailee - this was an image that I imagined the minute Hailee agreed to meet me a Lake Sylvia State Park for her senior photos. The park has a wonderful old rustic covered bridge the I thought would have some great diffused light. With Hailee's long neck and legs I knew she'd be beautiful here.

8. Cooper - this was just a fun photo of my friend's dog while we were playing in the snow. Cooper just looked so happy on top of the hill.

9. Gather Together - spring in a marsh will often have ducks and ducklings swimming around. I rarely consider myself a wildlife photographer, just don't have the patience for it. But when I'm given an opportunity of ducks casually hanging out in the same area as I am, I can't resist. 

10. The Colors of Spring - Eastern Washington in the spring is filled with colors. This Skeleton of a barn sat at the base of a hill with the flower-filled hills beyond. A scene from a pastel dream.

11. Zillah - while on a backpack through the Buckhorn Wilderness in the Olympics, we took a brief break to admire the scenery. Zillah on the other hand decided to take a catnap in one of the most scenic areas of the trip.

12. Sunset at Illahee - talk about a perfect setting. Two sailboats moored offshore from Illahee State Park, almost perfectly framing Mt Rainier when ferry passes. Great timing with beautiful evening light.

13. Wild Turkey - This year seemed to give me ample practice in wildlife photography. Often serendipitous moments as I stumbled across critters. This turkey was no different. As I was driving along the road at Dry Falls State Park, I spotted him next to the road.