Athlone Clonbonny Loop - Athlone, Ireland

A half day off on Sunday before heading into work for a couple hours.  The day before had been an OK hike in Galway, but I was looking for something a little more rustic.  There is a road into the countryside south of Athlone that loops right back to the hotel.  So, why not.

The morning was perfect.  Started at almost exactly 09:00.  Temp right around 15C, high fog and a light wind.

Taking off out of the hotel I went East into Athlone on Dublin Rd.  Very few cars, which is not the norm, but it was Sunday morning.  Even fewer people.  At the turn for Golden Island, right before the city centre I took a left on John Broderick.  Staying straight and not going right (which goes to the shopping centre) the road quickly narrows and becomes countryside.

I suppose there is nothing spectacular in regards to the scenery.  There are no majestic sweeping vistas of herd of buffalo.  There is no long shore of high cliffs with crashing waves.

There are, however, a few houses.  Some are nicely done and some are not quite in that category.  There are a great deal many boggy meadows, a patch of forest here and there, and birdsong in great quanitity.  For you true naturalists you'll be disappointed with my posts but I hope to make up for that as time goes on.  I do not know my birds, nor do I know my trees.  I know an oak or maple when I see them.  I can tell the difference between deciduous and evergreen, especially in Winter.

The walk was very quiet and about 7.5 miles for the whole loop.  The first two miles are all spent in Athlone along Dublin Rd.  Once out in the country the left hand side is mosty peat bog with patches of forest.  Occassionally, a cow pasture and a house break the bog.  On the right side is bog land that is used mostly for pasture.  Cows, horses.  After perhaps only a half mile the River Shannon makes an appearance and as you make your way down the road further, the road and the river nearly meet.

At the point where the road takes a left turn and begins to head back East, there is a cul-de-sac to the right.  Take that as far as you care.  I took it to a point just before the first (and only?) lodging.  This little side trip will bring you to within 100m of the Shannon.  The bog pasture, the cows, and the river are something very special.  I stood for a few minutes taking in the scenery.

In many places it seems the river has no banks and in the Winter of 2010-2011 that's just what happened.  Along the road you can see where the repairs took place.

Passing by a group of beef cattle they started up and began running along side my walking.  I told them I had nothing for them, but soon saw their ultimate wish.  They stood by their cattle gate with eyes that I've only seen on begging dogs, just hoping to get through the gate and into a different pasture.  Sorry, I'm the wrong human!

This first part of the road had little in the way of old ruined buildings, but once the road turns left that changed.  The land quickly becomes more hilly and there are more rolling meadows for the horses and cows.  There are also more old stone buildings.  Now, these are not hundreds of years old where ancient rituals were once performed.  These are old farmhouses, perhaps from the late 1800's , early 1900's where farmers raised cattle, sheep, and children.  Still, they are a unique part of the landscape.  At least my camera and I thought so.  They are also worth documenting because, as one posted notice states, they are soon to be demolished and replaced with newer structures.

The scenery can only be described by the inadequate term, pastoral.  Really, the rolling hills, meadows, well maintained homes and yards, make for a excellent stroll through the countryside.  The road is narrow and driving is fast.  When you hear a car, step aside.  The locals don't mind you being out there, but they don't expect you either.

As you approach the bridge over the train tracks you begin to hear the sounds of the N62 and M6 motoroways.  Soon, you'll be out of the country and back to the stores and hotels.  Before that, though you pass by the Clonbonny National School.  This old school seemed to remind me a bit of the old Nasonville Elementary in Clark Cty, Wisconsin.  Not sure why, maybe the shape, but it did.

Shortly after the school there is a small industrial/commercial area right at the intersection of the country road and N62 (Dublin Rd).  A short walk of less than a mile back to the hotel.  Still, along the way back to the hotel, there is good rolling meadows that offer a view amid the sounds of cars and trucks at your back.

Once back at the hotel.  A quick shower, and down to the Granary Bar for the Sunday Carvery.

Mitake-san & Otake-san, Japan

     October 2010 was my first trip to Japan and as I write this in September 2011, it looks like it won't be my last.  This was no vacation, but three weeks of work.  Long hours and stressful situations.  During 22 days I had 2 1/2 days off.  The work day started at 08:00 and finished up usually by around 19:45 or 20:00.

     A lot of walking was done on my days off, with the exception of one.  Two of the very fine human beings I worked with took me on a tour of the countryside around Mt. Fuji.  Not climbers themselves, we settled for the shops at the end of the road.  I was extremely pleased with the gift of their time and attention.  I cannot say enough about the Japanese people.

     I had a Sunday off and there were no Western co-workers about on that day.  Two left on Friday and another would be arriving very late that evening.
    Having the full day off today so I thought I'd leave the city for the hills.  Tokyo is very very large and lies in a huge bowl.  Mountains to the North, mountains to West and to the South.  There are mountains to the East as well, but those are in California, Washington, and Oregon.  Except for Mt Fuji, these mountains tend to be around 2000ft to 4000ft, much like in Virginia.  The great thing is that some of these mountains are less than 2hr train ride from downtown Tokyo.  Mt Takao is 20 minutes from my hotel (Tachikawa) by train.
    I did a little research and found that Takao would be very very busy and all but one path was paved.  What mountain has paved trails?  I absolutely crave solitude in the mountains.  I demand it.  So, there is Mitake-san (Mt. Mitake) at 800m (2600ft) which has a shrine and a village at it's peak.  Hmmm... paved.  But, leading from the shrine are a handful of trails that lead to other peaks.  The largest in the area being Otake-san at 1266.5m (4155ft).

    I set the alarm for 06:20 to make an early start. Rain was forecast for later in the day and I wanted to get up and down before the rain.  Plus, the trains run less frequently the further from Tokyo you get.  At 06:20 I tried really did try, but went back to bed for another hour.  No worries.  Took the train from Tachikawa to Ome. At Ome changed trains to a local line to Mitake.  Side story:  Starting from Tokyo station or Shinjuku station you are in downtown Tokyo and the buildings are monstrous.  Small buildings are 9 floors.  As you travel by train west you see the large buildings melt to smaller, but still most buildings are 6 to 12 stories with a smattering of 3 to 4 story apartment buildings.  1 or 2 story buildings are usually schools or some such.  As you get past Tachikawa and are closer to Ome (heading West) there are fewer buildings over 5 stories, but still most are 2 to 4 stories.  But now, occassionally the train passes a neighborhood of single dwelling homes.  Wouldn't know it though as they are crammed together like a tin of Oscar sardines.  Hey, that sounds good.  After Ome, things change dramatically.  There are far more trees and the smaller moutains are just on the otherside of the river, maybe 1500 meters wide. They do not rise gently, but are very steep and heavily wooded.  One of the stops after Ome you go through a tunnel (driving through a spur of a short hill).  On the other side the landscape is suddenly a mountain village.  No large buildings and houses are stuck on any piece of flat land.

     The train stops at Mitake station.  Across the street and a block away is the bus that takes you to the cable car.  The cable car takes you from 400m to 800m and is not cheap (about $6 one way).  Mitake is a small town and the best way I can think to describe it is that it reminds me a bit of Ontario just down the road from us.  Ontario may have a little more flat space.  Ontario, except that the buildings have that Japanes roof style.  A few still even have the timber and thatch and are in good shape.  Most have ceramic or metal roofing.

Trail Map near shrine

     That $6 on the cable car is some of the best cash you'll ever spend.  The 400m climb to the summit of Mitake-san would be an incredibly difficult climb and would be entirely on pavement.
      Pavement, yes that's the thing.  Roads in mountain towns in the US tend to be a bit winding, but they allow the space for two vehicles to pass one another in the opposite direction.  Not so in Mitake.  Most of the time the road is barely 12 feet across.
     The bus stops below the cable car station, so there is short 200m hike up a steep hill to get to the cable car.
     The weather today.  Well, it started out cloudy and about 60F.  Supposed to be sunny, but that didn't happen.  As the train approached Mitake the clouds were beginning to become thicker in the mountain valleys.
      So, the cable car ride is short, but really quite necessary.  At the top there are two gift shops and an open courtyard.  Most of the signs are in Japanese and only a few sprinklings in English.  Well, there's one road and two directions.  Down or up.  So, up I go.  The others on the cable car seemed to want to look through trinkets instead of getting into the woods.  I need the trail.  I'm not in my hiking shoes to shop.  The "road" is a concrete path barely 7 feet wide and has grooves cut in it.  The drivers are pretty friendly and are on the lookout for tourists.  The village at the summit is very small, perhaps 30 houses.  They all butt right up to the road and each other.  After 20 minutes of walking on the main thoroughfare through the village you come to the shrine.  Most of the stones are newish and all are in Japanese.  Have no idea what they are about.  The famous Samurai armor was not on display today.  Walking through the shrine there are two paths that are part blacktop, part gravel and these are the trails that lead out to other peaks. 

Mitake village

   By this time the weather had turned to drizzle, but under the canopy of cedar and other trees little rain made it to the trail.  The hike from Mitake-san to Otake-san took me 1:51 minutes and it was as difficult a climb as any of the others, save the return from Lost Lake in Olympic.  Never stopped going up.  There were two main shelters along the way.  Only one was open and that was because it has only two walls.  Just a place to sit and rest.  Before the final ascent to Otake-san there is a workhouse and a small prayer temple.  Both locked.
     The last half mile to the summit is rock; slippery sharp black rock.  That last bit took some thinking.  But, if the old folks could do it, so could I.
     At the summit there is a post with the altitude.  Behind the post to the North are further mountains.  I saw nothing but gray.  There were no features of anything, tree or otherwise beyond 200m.  Fantastic.

Summit



Bridge on trail




Crossroads - last sign in English


     Coming and going I met perhaps 30 people along the trail.  That's busier than I'm used to in Mountains, but for Japan that is absolute solitude.  Most everyone was dressed in expensive North Face winter and rain gear.  By the time I was half way into the climb the rain was a bit more steady.  Actually, outside the canopy it was coming down pretty good.  There was no way to not get wet.  The temp was probably around 55F or a little less.  That is December temps for Tokyo and it showed in the people.  I was so warm on the climb (from working hard) that I was in t-shirt and shorts with my rain jacket hung off my pack.  There were people I met with full rain gear.  One guy was wearing alpine hiking boots!  I probably looked as strange to them as they did to me.   At one point on the way up I dropped my light pack and sat on a rock.  I had picked up some kind of cookie at a store the night before for a snack on the hike.  I could not really tell what they were.  The package was in Japanese and the girl behind the counter spoke no English.  Oatmeal raisin.  Wow!  When I say "like grandma use to make" I'm spot on.  I sat on the rock, soaked in rain and sweat, smiling.. thinking about Grandma Dorothy and Grandpa Karl (miss you!) eating cookies.  What did those Japanese think about that site?!?

     On the way back down I changed shirts and then wore my rain jacket.  I wasn't working as hard and the rain was really coming down.  Even under the trees the rain was steady.  The amount of standing water on the trail tripled from on the way up.  Those rocks on the way down.  Boy were they slippery.  Took 1:25 to get back down to the cable car, but that first half mile off the summit took about 20 minutes.  Scary.

     I freely admit I'm very bad with knowing my trees and plants.  The scenery, despite the mist and drizzle, was still fantastic.  The woods, steep hills were sites to behold.  I won't long forget it.  I hope that in December 2011, when I go back, I have another day off.

Mountain forest

Mt. Rainier - Towards Indian Bar

     Late July 2010 and I'm back in the Pacific Northwest.  I absolutely love the Pacific Northwest.  I've hiked on Rainier three times (including this hike), Mt St Helens, Olympic Natl Park, North Cascades.  There is no place in the world better than the Pacific Northwest as far as I'm concerned. 
     Driving out of the airport and getting out on to I-5 I feel as if I've returned home.  I've never lived there, only visited and only in the last 9 years.  Somehow, something simply calls to me.  There are four reasons I haven't moved out there.  Those reasons will remain my own.

     All but one of those hikes I did myself.  This hike on Rainier was to be the second with another person and the first trip out to my "home" with my wife Ruth.  Things hadn't been so good for us so there was quite some trepidation heading out on this vacation.

     The planned hike was to start at Box Canyon and hike up to the Cowlitz Divide and make it as far as we could.  Our ultimate goal was Indian Bar, but we knew that was a stretch goal.  When I first thought I was going on my own my goal was Ohanapecosh Park.  I would have needed excellent weather and to really push the pace.  On my own that was possible, maybe 70% likely.  Together there was no way, so Indian Bar was the goal with a 80% likelihood. 
     The snow about 6000ft refused to melt that Summer and the day before we left I gave Indian Bar a 60% chance.  Figured we make it up to the high point right before Indian Bar.

     We woke to a beautiful sunny and cool day on Rainier.  The temp at 08:55 was right around 58F and the sun was out in full force.  We'd have a comfortable hike up through the canopy to the ridge.  We made sure to pack sunglasses and an extra shirt (two for me... boy  I sweat easy).  The ridge would be warm and sunny.
     08:55 we left the parking lot at Box Canyon.  Took a 5 minute side trip to check out the canyon, got a bit confused on which trail was the trail we needed.  Backtracked for another 5 minutes and then got on the real trail up.  The first mile is pretty easy to Nickel Creek.  We hit Nickel Creek at 09:39. 

Mike and Ruth at the start

     I'm going to make a statement here that will get me in trouble when Ruth reads this, but she knows where I stand on the issue.  Any moderately dedicated hiker will smile and shake their head in agreement with me, though.   Very important ----   be sure all your electronic devices such as GPS and Camera are all set and ready to go at least a day ahead of time.  There are few things more frustating to a hiker than to have their partner constantly stopping on the trail to learn how to use their GPS or adjust the settings on their camera.  The first mile took almost an hour.  We were stopping every 100m because something wasn't understood or wasn't quite right.
     I carry a cheap GPS in my pack.  I make sure the batteries are good before I get in the car or on the plane.  It stays in pack, turned off.  It's there for emergencies.  I hike on trails.  They are already on the map.  Only once in the North Cascades did I end up on an unmarked trail, but I didn't feel the need to worry about whether I could upload it into my computer.
     I have a decent, small, digital camera.  I use two settings that I can find in less than a second.  I stop quickly to take a picture and then keep moving.  I do take a good number of pictures.   An 8 hour hike in the mountains will yield about 50 pictures.  I keep moving though and do not take a lot of time to frame them.  I'm out there to hike and have memories, not win a contest. 

     Nickel Creek is about 3480ft.  A wood bridge made from a cut tree runs across and there is a campground tucked on the East side.  This is a great place to stop and soak your feet as we did on the way back down.  It is also your only source of water until you hit snow pack.  We had to stop at Nickel Creek for a nature call, fiddled with the GPS, fiddled with the Camera.  At 09:50 we were moving again.  Been on the trail almost an hour and had gone only a mile.  No way to make Indian Bar now.  We would run out of water and probably daylight, unless we really did well on the climb up.

Nickel Creek

     The climb up starts at Nickel Creek and it is what you would expect of Rainier.  Switchbacks.  Constant switchbacks.  Some were tough, some were not, but the climb never let up.  Our pace slowed considerably, down to less than a mile an hour.  I used to be a runner before two back surgeries.  Now I hike.  I'm 25 pounds heavier than I used to be and have sciatic issues that make a lot of things difficult.  One thing I can do is put one foot in front of the other and climb.  I can typically maintain a 2mph average on climbs and 3mph on the flats.  Downhills kill my knees.  I am slow, slow, slow on steep declinations.  Ruth, well, she's not a climber.  Those switchbacks took their toll.  She'd recover nicely with just a minute or two, but the switchbacks were punishing.  She's a gamer, though, and kept pushing.

     We met a couple that was coming down.  They were on Day 10 of the Wonderland Trail circuit and had one more day to go after this one.  We wished them well and pushed on.  About 10:47 we hit 4200ft and then at 11:00 on the button the GPS registered 4400ft.  Okay, maybe GPS isn't so bad on a hike.  We dropped packs and took a 10 minute break.  I try to break every hour for 5 minutes.  Get the pack off, stretch my legs and get my lower back a rest.  Gratefully the weather and terrain allowed for this.

     The climb up is all in the forest.  Again, don't know my trees, but I like what I see in those Northwest forests.  There were no grand views of picks on the climb up.  We could hear the creek down below and small run-offs trickling down the mountainside but, with only a couple exceptions, couldn't really see them.  Still, the sounds, the green, the smell of the pine, decay. 

    By 11:22 we'd hit an even 4600ft. and began to see small snow patch off the trail.  Shortly after that, at 11:32 we hit the Cowlitz trail junction.  We'd been moving for 2.5 hours and only gone 2.7 miles.  We re-assessed our goal and decided we'd hike until 14:00 and then turn around.  No chance of making Indian Bar or even close to that.  I was a little worried about water.  I don't like to take from snow cover if I don't have to or even streams.  Day hike.... shouldn't need to have more water than you can pack in, but we were going to be close.

Ruth!

     After the junction the heavy climbing is over, but the terrain is rolling and twisting, giving the legs and cardio a continued workout.  11:55 sees 5002ft.  12:10 we dropped the packs again for 20 minutes.  12:37 we broke 5450ft and the snow cover was nearly 100%.  We would have to walk on a snow pack and duck under branches, the pack being 3 to 4 feet deep and 20 to 40 ft long.  Then the pack would end in a 4 foot drop-off back to trail.  The trail, there, covered in ankle deep water.  20 years ago this would have been fun.  Now? Let's say we found it... interesting.

The trail is in there somewhere

     At the Cowlitz junction we met a couple that passed us as we stopped to take pictures by the sign.  They were moving at a good clip going towards the top of the ridge.  Their goal was to get to the "high point" which is a little before Indian Bar.  As we started hitting the rolling terrain we met them coming back.  The wife/girlfriend was completely freaked out and wanted to "get off this hill."  I asked her partner about her attitude.  He said she just couldn't deal with the snow.  It was just too difficult.  The little packs of snow were tough, no doubt.  But certainly not insurmountable.  She should've stayed on the trail.  Still, once you're freaked out up there you best be getting back down or somebody's getting hurt.

     At 12:59 we broke out of near constant tree cover and got glimpses of Bald Rock out to the East.  13:30 brought the first unobstructed view of Mt Rainier and saw us still around 5450ft.  Felt like we'd been climbing, but we'd been dropping as well.  Up on the ridge the view of Rainier was spectacular.  Very few clouds and beautiful blue sky.  Using the binoculars we tried to spy some climbers we'd been told would be on a face we could see.  No such luck.  If they were there we were not expert enough to catch them.

     We broke for a long lunch about 14:00 at a good spot.  We had a great view of Rainier.  A little shade under a copse of trees when we wanted and excellent views of St Helens and Adams to the South.  A couple hundred meters further up the trail I could see the high point.  The approach to the high point was completely snow covered.  The distance was about a half mile but would likely have taken us 45 minutes just to get there and another 45 minutes to get back.  I liked the idea, but we were done to 1/3 water.  Ruth was pretty beat.  I was worried about daylight should something go wrong on the way back down.  We decided a long 30 minute break to eat sandwiches (and drink a Coke!) was the order and then back down.  As I said, the view from where we were was outstanding and we took a lot of pictures there.  One of them has me with no shirt (drying it out) and wearing Ruth's bra.  If you pay off my credit card I'll let you see that one.  Maybe I should pay off your credit card instead.  We'd reached an altitude of just over 5500ft.  Actually, on going up to view the approach to the high point I likely cracked 5700.

The trail continues to the high point.

    We started back down around 14:35.  We hit the junction about 16:24.  On the way down to the junction we met a Ranger who was out with a couple of hand saws.  She was out clearing the path from fallen trees from the Spring flood.  Doing a great job I might add and I told her so.  She wasn't impressed and simply did not seem to want people on the trail.  I have a soft spot for the Rangers and honestly believe they do us a great service.  I've had better conversations with them than this time around.

     We hit Nickel Creek at 17:22.  I was completely out of water and had been for about 45 minutes.  I was a bit parched at that time.  But, with only a mile left I figured I'd pass on the creek for water.  Besides the pills need about 30 minutes to kick and we'd be back by then.  I really should have filled a bottle with snow at the top.  We stopped for about five minutes to soak our feet (and dunk my head).

     At 17:22 we made it back to the parking lot.  Tired, out of water, and still married.
    Ruth turned out to be a great partner.  Need to work on the electronics.  Actually, here in 2011, still do...
     The following couple of days saw us driving up the back forest roads to take pictures of St Helens.  A helicopter ride over St Helens, and generally just out viewing the scenery.  The helicopter ride is horribly expensive, but frankly, worth going into a little debt for. 

     Someday I'm going to make Ohanapecosh.

Mt Rainier - Kautz Creek to Indian Henry's

July of 2009 I found myself back on Mt Rainier for the second time.  The previous time is worth a mention.  Let's take a small detour.

June of 2004 was the first trip for my boys out to their mother's for a couple weeks.  At the time I had a business partner located in Redmond (no, not Microsoft).  In taking the boys out I was also able to make the trip into a business trip.  I spent a day in Redmond (sick as a dog!) before my boss came out.  We had a Sunday free before we had meetings on Monday and Tuesday.  We decided to take a trip to Rainier.  On the way there I scoured the maps looking for a trail that was suitable.  At the time neither of us were hikers, but he did considerable amount of hunting in the mountains of Montana and Colorado and I spent enough time with adventure racing.  Figured we'd be OK.
We picked the Sunrise trail as that was the side of Rainier we were coming into.  Little did we know about roads being closed, campgrounds not being open, trails being washed out.  Pah!  Whatever!
Sunrise was a short trail to the campground, maybe a total of 6 miles round-trip.  Fun, though.  The scenery was gorgeous with the trail skirting right along the precipice with the river below.  About half-way up the trail quickly became snow-covered.  Then, even more quickly, thick with snow.  At one point we crossed a small run-off.   The snow was about 5 feet above the run-off.  There we were in running shoes, shirts, and jeans.  No water, no packs, no compass. 
At the campground only the top of a couple signs were visible.  We walked towards the glacier basin as far as we dared, but wisely turned around and headed down as the sun began to hit the ridge.

So, July 2009 back on Rainier.  I had thought to go to Rainier in 2007, but floods so badly damaged the roads and trails that instead I went up to the North Cascades.  Read that post too.  Great hike.

I have to apologize right now.  I'm writing this in 2011 and realized that I cannot locate ANY of the pictures from this hike.  If I find them I'll edit the post.

Kautz Creek hits the Nisqually River about halfway between the Westside Road and Longmire.  The Kautz Creek trail follows the creek for about a mile or so and then climbs up to around 6000+ft at Indian Henry's Hunting Grounds, a sub-Arctic plateau.  Views of the Tahoma glaciers and Nisqually glaciers can be had.  At Indian Henry's the Wonderland Trail can be joined on it's way to or from Longmire.

I hit the parking lot to the trail at 07:16 on a cloudy, damp, and cool morning.  I had no thermometer that day but it felt to be around 55F and very overcast.  There were no views of the peaks above from down at the Kautz Creek parking lot.  Just a light drizzle.  I was wearing my rain jacket just to keep from getting drenched.  I've since learned not to bother. 
By 07:30 I was packed up and on the trail.  The beginning of the trail is pretty easy and at 07:52 I made the crossing of the Kautz Creek on a very new wooden bridge.  The previous bridge had been swept away a year ago.

Within moments the climb begins.  The climb is a never ending series of switchbacks.  Some long, some short.  Some steep, some with lesser gradient.  Trees to the left.  Trees to the right.  Canopy above.  The view of the valley below was pretty, but the it mostly just trees.  Occasionally a rock outcropping on the other side of the creek was visible.  Above me was only gray.  Thick gray.  I walked into that gray.  At 08:20 I was in the clouds.  I measured visibility in feet.  I could see the top of the switchback that I was on and little else.  The trail guide talked about views of Rainer and the glaciers from many points along the way.  They were out there somewhere. 
The rain started a little heavier.  I dropped my pack at 08:30 for scheduled break at the top of a switchback.  Ten minutes of more wet.  I was quite warm from the climb, but still alternating hat on / hat off.

At 08:56 I crossed another creek that empties into Pyramid Creek and Kautz Creek.  There was a short lightening of the gray so that I was able to get a view (and a picture!) of Satulick Mtn.  GPS had me at about 3800ft which pretty much jived with the topo map.  I'd already climbed nearly 1600ft.

I took the next break about 10 minutes early, at 09:20.  I was beat and had been ready for a break about 20 minutes prior.  The switchbacks were beginning to take their toll.  The temperature had dropped considerably.  The rain, fortunately had slackened and now the precipitation was simply because I was IN the clouds as they passed through the valley.

At 9:40 I hit 4800ft and patches of snow were visible frequently on and around the trail.  Small patches only inches thick and feet wide.

At 09:52 I crossed 5000ft or so said the GPS.  The trail was nearly completely snow covered, but thinly.  Maybe 6 inches of snow on most of the trail.  When the snow was not on the trail, the trail was in 3 inches of water.   Ice was crystallizing on my hat.

At 09:59 I was standing below Mt Ararat.  In planning the trip I had thought what a neat idea it would be to try and summit Ararat.  It looked like a half hour side trip if the right approach could be found.  Looking at the topo map it looked like a steep, but easily surmountable scramble.  Yeah.  I have to say that the topo map does not agree with the reality of Mt Ararat from the perspective of the Kautz Creek Trail.  Ararat is a series of terraced sheer cliffs that end in jagged spires 1000ft above the trail.  Not even a mountain goat.
The trees were becoming shorter and growing in tight copses rather than full forest.
10:42 was a memorable time. The trail was circling around the end of a steep ravine.  Severe, nearly shear incline above the trail on the left (leading up to Mt Ararat) and a steep and long descent into the ravine of the right side.  The trail comes out of a forested part and hugs the wall of the ravine in the open before going back into more of those short trees.  The slope of the ravine was grass and wildflowers for maybe as much as 300 yards before giving way to an even steeper decline and falling into forest.  I was admiring the wildflowers when about 200 yards down the decline a log moved.  The log sat up on it's haunches and looked me right in the eyes.   There I stood 200 yards away from the first bear I'd ever seen in the wild.  After about 2 minutes the bear decided that either A.  I wasn't very tasty looking or B. That 45 degree incline was not something worth climbing today.

Shortly after that a pheasant like bird kept to the trail in front me for about a half mile.  The bird would stop, peck and the ground, move on, look back, peck at the ground, move on.  After a half mile the bird took a left turn and left the trail.  In 2008 I knew what the bird was.  I simply don't remember right now.

Very shortly after seeing the bear and the bird I was in the tundra.  Snow was everywhere and where there was not snow.  There was water.  Sometimes knee deep water.  The trail just simply disappeared.  I had seen some footsteps in the snow leading up here.   Someone had been on the trail within the last three days.  When  I hit the tundra there were no footprints and no trail.  I knew the direction the patrol cabin was in, but finding it would be a chore.  After going up to two small ridges and surveying I found a route that would be as little damage to the tundra as possible and keep my feet dry (too late!).  By 11:10 I was dropping my pack at the cabin.

The cabin is a park service patrol cabin.  Naturally, it was locked.  A very nice two room cabin with a small porch.  I changed socks (which were soaked completely through) and undershirt.  Also brought out the spare hat.  At this time I still had a little hair on my head and went in for a blaze orange knit cap.  The cheap kind that you can pick up from Wal-Mart.  They are thin, which is good for not getting too hot.  They are orange which is good for being soon.  They are cheap which is just good.
I sat down to my lunch of PBJ, a can of Coke, a little jerky and a lot of gatorade.  I forced myself to spend a half hour.  I needed the rest.  I would have taken another 15 minutes on top of that, but my fingers were getting so cold I could hardly hold my sandwich.  The plateau that the cabin sits on must just be gorgeous in late July.  From where I was it was patches of deep snow and pools of ankle to shin deep water.  Very very cold water I might add.
While lunching the clouds began to lift.  Not so much that I could get a glimpse of Rainier and the glaciers, but the smaller peaks of Copper Mtn, Iron Mtn, even Pyramid Peak were visible.  I could have stayed up there for an entire afternoon had the cabin been open. Time to move.  I was freezing.
Just as I'd laced up my boots and put my gloves back on I saw my first people since the guard at Nisqually entrance.  Three early 20-something guys were hiking up from the direction of Longmire, where I was headed back down.  They were on their way to the South Puyallup River campground along the Wonderland Trail.   Unfortunately, they were heading North and I'd come from South and West.  I had no information to give them.  They told me that they hit snow only just this side of Squaw Lake.  The way down would be pretty clear and easy going.

At 11:40 I began my trip down.

The sun came out in 5 minute spans during the hike down.  The forest did not get thick until hitting Devils Dream campground.  Boy, that was fantastic.  The sun's coming out energized me better than any food could do.  I was cold and wet and that bit of sunlit warmth was magic.

Passed Squaw Lake at 12:10 and Devils Dream about 12:22.

On the way to Devils Dream the trail drops but gradually.  Only a few places are there switchbacks or anything steep.  After Devils Dream the trail drops significantly, dropping 1000ft in a big hurry.  Right about the time the trail started to drop I spotted my next group of humans.  Three park service folks were out cutting fallen trees.  The trail was crisscrossed with guide lines  I hung back a ways until I could safely get their attention.  Two of them were very welcoming and talked me through a route around the lines.  The third one, the one with chainsaw, had nothing but a following glare.  Yikes.

Shortly past the workers Hornpipe Creek goes by the trail.  There was nice little waterfall on the creek just off the trail.  The climb down was a steep 25 ft.  I carefully picked my way down the first 5 feet then lost my footing and picked up a quick 15ft.  Boy.  Then another careful 5ft to a ledge where a partially obstructed view was available.  Took a picture.  Wish I could find it.  Decided that was a good place to drop the pack and take a 10 minute break.  13:00.

The trail drops like a rock down to Pyramid Creek and Kautz Creek.  Crossing the valley is picking your way through rocks and boulders while trying to spot the log bridges.  There was a hiker ahead of me and I kept my eye on his yellow jacket.  He was a few steps ahead of me and I realized I was going to walk into the creek if I didn't do this on my own.  Hit Pyramid Creek at 13:30 and Kautz Creek at 14:49.

Once the initial 30ft out the valley is climbed the rest of the ascent to Rampart Ridge is not very strenuous.  I opted to take the trail along Rampart Ridge.  There were a few views of the Valley, but mostly the ridge is forested rather deeply.  Hit the high point on the ridge at 14:17.  The viewpoint was another 19 minutes later at 14:36.  Elevation 4048ft and another 10 minute break.

On the way down the ridge towards Longmire I ran across another human.  He was out with the wife and kids and was able to convince them that he could disappear for a few hours to take a hike.  They would play around down at Longmire while he hiked up to the ridge and then back down.  We walked down together and talked about all sorts of things.  I'm generally not afraid to work on any piece of conversation so we had a good time together.

At this point my feet and knees were killing me.  My legs were beat and my back was stiff.  I had plenty of liquid and food left so I was still well hydrated.  I'd been hiking for over 7 hours which for anyone is a pretty long time.  For me that's a very long (and pleasant) day.

I dreaded the long walk back to the parking lot.  I'd be walking the 3 miles from Longmire to Kautz Creek on pavement.  I hinted that a ride might be bad, but he didn't bite.  I'm not a hitchhiker either, so it was going to be a long hour on the road.

At 15:35 we hit Longmire and I saw people again.  Lots of them.  The place was packed.  The walk along the road was as painful as I thought it would be.  I was in such a hurry to be done that I neglected hydration.  I really started to feel that after 40 minutes.  I should have just found a place to plunk it for a while and rest.  I didn't though and at 16:30 I made it to the parking lot.  Talked with a family that was picnicking there.  Through a strange twist of events involving their three children and only two parents I ended up changing a diaper on the youngest of the three.  They took a picture of me by the trail head sign.  Fair trade?  Maybe.

7 hours and approximately 17 miles.  Lots of rain, a bit of cold, a bit of sun.  Very few people, one bird, and one bear.

So ends one of the more memorable hikes that I've been on.  I'd do this trail again in a heartbeat.  I really hope to get out the Pacific Northwest again.

North Cascades National Park

    

     Perhaps for those who live near these wonderful parks the sentiment is different, but in all research on the mountains and parks of Northwest Washington the North Cascades National Park is overlooked. Ross Lakes grabs some attention, but Mount Baker simply seems to overshadow this park in popularity.

That's not necessarily a bad thing.

North Cascades National Park

Mt Baker-Snoqualimie Natl Forest

Okanogan Natl Forest

     In June 2007 I was once again heading out to Seattle for the drop-off of children for a few weeks. I'd missed the trip in 2006 because I had major back surgery to try and repair the herniated and ruptured disc that caused debilitating pain. I was 50 weeks from the second of two back surgeries and like so many things in my life at that point, the result was far from all I could have hoped for.

I'll warn you now. If you're not up for a drop kick of past personal baggage, please type CTRL-F, type in "Day 1". Hit Enter.

     Back surgery? Was that all? Well, no. In those 50 weeks I had a vertebral fusion, got engaged, bought a house, changed cities, school districts, had my company sold (luckily kept my job), accumulated tens of thousands of debt, and ... got married.

     I was in shock and very unhappy. We married too soon. We moved in together too soon. We were not getting along well and very different expectations about what marriage and parenthood was like. As I write this in 2012 we are two months from our 5^th anniversary. I can confidently say we'll make it whatever distance we're allowed, but brother was I close to having two failed marriages.

     I wanted off the roller coaster. Really I still do. Want to hear some more? No? Tough. Take it like the good hiker you are. In 2002 I suffered through 9 months of an illness that nearly killed me, literally. 2003 came the divorce and single parenthood. The first rumors of our company being sold came up. 2004 I started having very serious problems with my calves. My running was cut from 40 miles a week to about 20. My adventure racing training was cut in half. Then my hip started to hurt. 2005 found that I had a herniated and ruptured disc. Now my left thigh was in pain nearly all the time. The pain increased in the hip and thigh until finally in September I had a partial discetomy performed. Following that, the pain was unbearable. I would need a fusion that would require 6 weeks off work. The rest you know, but the effect you don't.

     Although I was never a great athlete, probably not even good by many folk's standards, that was my identity. Athletics was what I did when I did not work at my hobby. Yeah, I'm lucky enough to have a job in what I'd do anyway. I coached, I played, I ran, I skipped, I jumped. Since I was 10 years old that was who I was. In 2005 and 2006 that was gone, almost certainly forever.

As of September 2006 I had lost nearly everything important to me. I still had my kids, my job, and financial security. By June of 2007, financial security was gone and my job (and others) was in very dire straits.

     There is your backdrop of a hiker in peril. So, what does this have to do with hiking? That will take fewer paragraphs to explain than the backdrop, which is a fortunate thing for you readers.

     I could not run more than a half mile at a 10 minute mile pace without my calves or thigh screaming. Actually pulled my calf muscles twice trying. Biking brought pure agony to my left hip and lower back. I could not afford the time or money to make it to a pool to swim. My latest love, tennis, was a symphony of agony. I had to hang up the shoes, the bike, and the racquet.

     What I could so, though, was put one foot in front of the other. If I took a break every 40 to 60 minutes I could go all day. Hours. I would be beat to pieces, stiff and sore, but I could put in 20 miles in a day.

     That brought me face to face with the Mountains. Something, that if I planned well, I could tackle. Something that would challenge the physical ability I had left and still be something most people, and a lot of other hikers, would never consider attempting. Something I could still be proud to say I did.

     I wrote an itinerary for the folks back home so that should I not come back they'd know where best to find my corpse on a particular day. Honestly, though, at that point I really didn't care whether those people came looking for me or not. I was about done with anyone close to me.

I had three days in which to hike and laid out a trail or two per day that I'd be attempting. I also had some backup trails in mind. Those became necessary. I actually ended up doing only about 1/3 of the trails I'd originally planned, ending up with some failures and a couple neat adventures.

Day 1 – Sourdough Mtn... Nope.. Thunder Creek & Fourth of July Trail

     My original plan for this trip was to return to Mt Rainier. The entire of Northwest Washington had major snow fall and major flooding in 2006 leaving entire sections of Mt Rainier inaccessible. The North Cascades were very hard hit, but not nearly to the extent of Rainier. The choices for trails that I could attempt and finish at Rainier were limited to two or three. In the North Cascades there were still a dozen or more.

     Sourdough Mtn seemed like a nice challenge. 8.4 round trip would leave time in the day for attacking Steattle Trail down the road, another 7.2 miles round trip.

     The trail entrances for both of these trail are near the Diablo Lake Dam. I drove up to the parking lot of the Diablo Dam to take a picture of the massive power transformers. That is where I saw my second person of the day. One of the dam workers gave me a good stare down until I drove away.

The National Park website describes the entrance to the trail as behind the Diablo Lake community center. I found the community center easy enough and there was even a sign for Sourdough Mountain right in front of the building.

Sourdough Mtn. Trailhead

     The trail literally is behind the building. So are about 6 others and they all look like trails made by someone just dashing off into the woods to take a leak. I picked one and hiked up a small cliff. This just didn't seem right and sure enough it dead-ended in the middle of a climb. Just stopped.

     The next trail quickly became more likely the one. Using a topo map I was able to determine this quite likely the right path. The first half mile of the trail is UP. Quick, steep switchbacks wind their way up the side of the mountain. Steattle Creek is far below on the left.

     The day was very overcast and mist drifted in and out of the woods. The peaks above were only very occassionally visible. Sourdough Lookout, my turn-around point, was at around 5700ft and was likely to be completely clouded in. The temperature was perfect, a solid 59F.

     The trail description states that the first two miles of the climb are very steep and difficult. The first half mile was proving that in spades. The mountain rose to my right in successive steep ridges. This was looking like a more difficult climb than the climb back up from Lake Angeles in 2004.

     The trail report stated that the first two miles were also affected by the flooding in that there would many downed trees encountered on the trail. Noted.

     After a that first half mile or so, I rounded a switch back and had a view of the next area I'd be climbing before the trail drove straight up the side of the mountain for a while. The trail crosses a face of a ridge, rising at a steady 15 degree angle. That was not the daunting part. More than half of the trees on the face were flat on the ground, laying on each other. There were small trees, medium trees, big trees. Trees for you and trees for me. Trees so much the trail I could not see.

     I had expected along that section to perhaps have to climb over or under a fallen log every 100ft to 200ft. There was not 10 feet of clear space anywhere on the side of that mountain.

The task of climbing over and under trees began. Spotting the trail was made difficult by deadfall and washouts. At times I had to climb straight up through brush and smaller trees to get back down and around a massive log that I had no hope of climbing over. After 45 minutes I'd gone about another half mile and was not even halfway through the debris. I was exhausted. My left leg was quivering. My back hurt. The real climb had not started yet. I'd been on the trail for about an hour and had gotten nowhere while the worst was yet to come. I decided to turn back and try another trail. By 9:30 I was back at the community center. Disappointed. Beaten again.



Flat part of Sourdough Mtn trail.  Yes, that is a trail through there.



     The second trail of the day was to be the Steattle Trail, but down in the parking lot I decided I really didn't want to do that trail. The day was still early and I wanted to climb. I never did make Steattle Trail during the trip.

     The plan for Day 2 was to hike the Thunder Creek Trail to the Fourth of July Trail up to the pass and back. I had that planned for a whole day because the total length was around 13.5 miles round trip and there was a climb involved. I decided I go up the trail on Day 1 and turn around at 14:30, regardless of where I was, to make sure I was off the trail by dark.

     Across the river and a few miles down the lake Colonial Campground sits along the narrowing end of Diablo Lake and the mouth of Thunder Creek.

     I arrived at the campground just before 10:00, repacked my pack, checked my food and headed through the campground to the trailhead. No one occupied the campground. The few camper units in the campground where shut up tight, except for one. The clothing on the line signalled occupancy, but there was no one to be seen, no one to be heard. I had the feeling that the gray day had simply put everyone but me and the dam worker to bed. The fact that it was only June 8^th, following one of the snowiest Pacific Northwest Winters in decades, probably played a factor. Few lived here to begin with and the passes had only opened up a couple weeks ago.

     The first two miles of the trail are flat, with some slight up and down, navigating the shoreline of the creek. A timber bridge spans the creek. The bridge was brand-spanking-new. The old timbers had washed away during the melt and was nicely lodged in the bottom of Diablo Lake.

     On the bridge I met a young couple taking pictures. They were headed back to their tents at a tent site just the other side of the creek. My first thought about their camping choice... two miles from the "finish" was that they had come from across Ruby Mountain on a multi-day hike and that was where they decided to spend their last night. Nope, that site was as far as they had gotten last night from the trailhead 2 miles behind me. That's as far as they were going to go. They were completely mystified that I was walking 16 miles in one day. That seemed like an insurmountable distance to them. Strangely, there were not the only ones before and since to have remarked on that. I frankly have no idea why people think 15 miles, 20 miles of hiking is an incredibly long journey, but if I was running a marathon they'd say "Oh, that's nice. My brother-in-law runs those." No big deal to run 26.2 miles in 3 hours, but spending 8 hours in the woods is incomprehensible? I do not understand that thought process.

     The last that I had before leaving them was that they'd best hope a ranger doesn't pop by. Where they set up their tent was not a camping site, just a flat spot a few feet above a swollen creek.

     Two and a Half miles up the trail was the Fourth of July campground. The trail from the bridge to the campground goes up right away. The trail description calls the climb "strenuous." I suppose, but there was never a point where I felt challenged. I rested every 45 minutes for 5 minutes. Stretched, ate, watered. I stepped over exactly one fallen tree!!!!

     There is not much view along the Fourth of July trail. The way meanders up the heavily forested side of the saddle formed by Ruby Ridge and Elija Ridge. The low clouds hid any peak from view when there was a small opening. Somewhere up to my left was Ruby Mtn. At 7408ft.

     I was excited about reaching the Fourth of July Pass and the Panther Potholes. I had grand expectations that at around 6000ft the Pass would have some neat views. Panther Potholes sounded grand and the topo map showed them to be a very unique feature.

     The low clouds lightly opened up now and again send a few brief sprinkles through the canopy. Again, the day was nearly perfect for hiking, except for the clouds. 60F, no wind in the forest, not pouring rain. The view could have been better, but my attitude was in the right place.

     I hit Fourth of July campground after about 90 minutes and decided I was hungry enough to eat lunch. I needed a break and the bulk of the climb was now over. The campground was completely deserted without even the remotest sign of recent occupants. I determined that in future hikes I needed to pack a small 24"x24" tarp to sit on (I haven't done that yet but continue to be reminded of it.) There was not one place that was not completely soaked from snow, thaw, and rain. The occasional drizzle kept things at their perfect level of saturation. Wet butt. No choice.

     As I ate I saw only the 4^th person I'd seen all day. A park ranger came hiking down from the direction of the pass with a large pack and a smile. He sat down by me, took out his lunch. We shared food, stories of hikes, and lots of personal stuff. He was not all shy about asking very personal questions and as you've noted from the first part of this post, neither am I.

     I won't bother with the few things I learned about the guy, except to say that this was his first patrol hike in this forest, having only been posted here a few weeks ago. He'd spent several years Yosemite and Redwood. This type of forest, and weather, was all new to him. He loved it.

     After 45 minutes we figured we'd both spend more time than anticipated and moved in our separate directions.

     Not long after the campground, the Panther Potholes suddenly appear down to the right. I wouldn't have missed them, but almost. Not quite the site I was hoping for. From a hundred feet up the side of a sharp decline the potholes are two round ponds of black, log-filled, water. I'm not sure what I was expecting, but this didn't quite meet those expectations. Maybe if there had been sun the lighting would have been interesting. Dunno.



Panther Potholes



     The Pass was just ahead. This would be great. From the campground to the Pass the trail was largely flat, inclining ever so gradual through the thick forest and mist. Ocassionally a view of the side of Ruby Mtn would be visible through the wall of green that surrounded the trail. A view of the peak was never possible.

     After an hour I realized the last 10 minutes of hiking had all been downhill, sometimes steeply. The trail had been undulating, so going down didn't mean much. You can still go down, but be climbing up the side of a mountain. Ten minutes of down was different. I'd walked right past the Pass. I stopped to re-asses and figure out where I was. There was no feature visible enough to compare to the topo map. I hadn't reached the Panther Campground yet, so I wasn't too far down the mountain yet.

     During planning I had toyed with the idea of taking this route all the way down to the highway, but the way back was further than I thought I'd be able to manage. In reality I probably could have managed the trip, which would have added another 8 miles to the whole hike. The trail was soft and fast, the climb had been relatively easy. Again... only one downed tree!!!

     I hiked back up to where I thought the Pass might actually be. Green on every side. No views, a wall of mountain to the North. A steep slope of green to the South. Back down I went.

     I made incredible time going down. Normally, after the back surgeries, downhills have been my nemesis, but on this particular one I was moving fast. I'm sure I took a break somewhere, but I don't recall it. There was really nothing to see and the drizzle had turned to light rain. I made the car by 14:45.

Now what? I had expected to be on this trail for 7 hours and it had been less than 5. I was looking to get back to where I was staying by around 17:30 or 18:00 and that was a half hour drive away. Not enough time for another long hike. Not enough leg power, food, or water either. My knees were stiff and my feet were sore. My back was pretty tired too.

     There were a couple of smaller trails in the area, like Thunder Point Trail. I took them. Thunder Point Trail was actually a nice little trail with what would be a very pretty view on a better day. The wind and rain had increased making being outside a little less than pleasant. By 16:15 I was heading back for the day.

Along the way I passed a road that had a very brief mention online; Diobsbud Rd. On the map this road looked very cool. More twists and turns than any other road in the area before splitting into two and ending in a plateau on the side of Diobsud Butte. I did not know if the road was paved or for how long and I did not have a 4WD vehicle. I thought how neat that might be to go until I shouldn't anymore. PLUS... there was a unnamed trail on the map that lead off the road down along the Diobsud Creek. That was my hike for tomorrow, definitely. Find that trail and go into the woods until I couldn't or shouldn't anymore.



Lower section of Thunder Point trail



Thunder Creek

     As I wound through the Skagit Valley to the Skagit Resort and a 15' foot camper, I noticed a lack of light and people. I met no cars, except those already parked. No people were outside and the rain was on and off. The buildings had no lights despite the thick gray outside. I had seen five people the entire day.

I had rented a small camper at the Skagit Valley Resort for about $35 a night. A very simple place for a very low price. There did not appear to be another soul in the campground. There were two cars parked outside one of the cabins. Also the cars of the owners outside the office. At the camper there was no lights, no hot water. After I discovered that and just started unpacking the owner came over and let me know that power was out. Yep. A creek had flooded and taken out a large run of power line. The whole valley was dark. Might be a day or two before there would be power again. He invited me to a gathering they were having at the office building at 19:00. Sure.

     The gas worked, so I was able to light the stove and cook some stew. As usual in the Pacific Northwest, I was wet and cold. And hungry. A cold shower, some food, some reading and wow it was already 19:00. I was dead tired, but I'd said I'd come over.

     Once or twice a month during the "season" the owners would find a performer, typically a musician. They would invite anyone at the resort and some of their local friends to come over, for free, and spend an hour of two. This night they had brought in a folk singer from Los Angeles. A friend of friend's friend, this lady had agreed to come all the way up here to perform for this one night. I'd never heard of her and she admitted she wasn't a big name. But she was pretty talented and had played studio for some bigger names occasionally. Her music wasn't exactly my speed, but her talent was undeniable. Through her music and betwen her music she spoke a great deal about the small tragedies of her 40-some years of life. Divorces, illnesses, business failures, raising kids, and just waking up day after day to do it all again. I could only grin in acknowledgement as I snacked on cookies and orange juice.

    After a couple hours I waddled over to the camper, nearly falling asleep on the 300ft journey. The power was still out, the temp was just above freezing. Drizzle falling. Darkness around everything. I put on sweat pants, sweat shirt, a hat and crawled into the sleeping bag provided as bedding.

     On the trails that day my thoughts were very seldom on the event of my life at the time. That was odd for me. In years of running my best thinking was done on my feet, winding along a path or carving through residential neighborhoods. Two years ago while at Olympic Natl Park, my every thought was on what had happened recently and figuring out a plan to deal with it.

     Reflecting now, I think it was simply that I could not fathom a plan, at least not one that didn't scatter the debris of destroyed relationships all over several lives. I was trapped without a plan. As I fell asleep that night, and I did so quite quickly, I simply wanted to be left alone. I wanted to walk away and just be lost.

     That wasn't meant to be a prayer, but God was listening. I'd see.

Day 2 Diobsud Creek, Rainy Pass, and End of the Road

     I was awake before my 06:15 alarm went off. The power was still not on and the temps were probably in the low 40s. Everything was cold and damp. The air, the floor, everything. The stove still lit, so at least I could have some sizeable amount of warm food before heading out. I wanted to get on the road by 06:45. That gave me time to eat a few packets of oatmeal, a bagel with cream cheese, and a banana. Gatorade. Yum. Breakfast drink of champions. That's sarcasm that is.

     Normally on these hikes I pack one pair of socks and wear one pair, changing them at some nice half way point. Today I packed two pair. The rain outside had stopped, but there was gray nearly to the ground. The likely case was that my feet would be very wet, especially if I got into a narrower trail. Wet? I had no idea.

     Diobsud Rd was just up the highway a few miles. The little rental car worked it's way up the tight turns and climbed with little whines. Twice I had to get out and move a downed tree out of the way. The second one I wasn't sure I was going to be able to move, but I was not going to have a tree spoil a hike two days in a row. I always carry about 20ft of nylon cord with me. I double strung the cord around the tree and then around a standing tree on the side of the road. With considerable effort I was able to swing the tree enoug to get room for the car to go by.

     There was no sign for this trail. The description online said there was a turn-out about a mile and a half up the road and the trail would be on the other side of the road from the turn-out. Wait.. was that a turn-out? Back up very carefully. Well, that looks like a trail diving into the woods over there. That's got to be it. Yeah, the road takes a decided right turn from here and the trail is right at that spot. Yep. Gotta be and it was.

     By 07:30 I was on the trail. The trail ran up and down for a small while, dropping gradually. After a half mile the trail turns to run along the side of a very high ridge with Diobsud Creek about 30 feet below. On the map the trail runs only for about a mile and ends. At about the 20 minute mark there was a steep, narrow, but well-worn footpath that dropped down to the creek. I marked the place in my memory and would stop by the creek on the way back. On the map, the trail ends about here, but in reality the trail kept going.

Things were a little different today than yesterday. I'd overcome the fallen trees. The sun was making brief appearances. Temp was right around 55F at 07:30. I wasn't thinking one thing about life, just about the trail. Soaking in the forest around me.

     Actually, the forest was soaking me. The trail was never more than 3 feet wide, usually just wide enough to actually hike on. The forest allowed this trail to exist and only just barely. Trees and rocks rose up over my head by many meters. High walls of sheer rock stood next to the Trail. Thirty feet above a flood swollen creek the trail ran through a small moss encrusted bog.

     Many places along the trail ferns rose up a foot or more above my head. God had answered me. I'd seen ZERO people this morning and I was on a trail that was ready, at any time, to swallow me and take me away.

     I'd been in the green rainforest before, especially at the lower elevations of Olympic Natl Park. This trail was something altogether more. The greatest view afforded was the creek below, which at times, was something worth looking at. I take that back. The greatest view was not the peaks (which were hidden by trees and clouds), not the creek, which was frequently obscured. No the greatest view was the vegetation that hung above my head.

     This was spectacular. The trail was frequently an inch or two of standing water. Every time I put a foot forward, a branch or fern would drag across me. Within an hour I was completely soaked through. I was also completely at peace. I felt such a positive energy within. I had to remind myself to stop and take breaks. I felt compelled to just keep hiking through this overgrown Land of the Lost. I passed a fern that rose three feet over my head. The base of the fern started about 18 inches above the trail, granted, but a 7 foot high fern!! Wow. I passed by a 25 foot high rock that had a 3 foot split all the way down from a tree growing on top of it. This un-named trail is one the finest of gems in the North Cascades.



Trail through ferns



     After about 4 miles in, the trail runs down in a valley along a smaller tributary creek. That smaller creek was often overgrown with vegetation, but when visible was not easily approached. The trail was winding through some very swampy ground. I'd left the trail shown on the map about an hour ago. This was the same trail, but it was clearly not taken often. The little tributary wasn't even on the map. Although the trail was discernible I couldn't simply wander along. The width of the trail narrowed to a nearly a game path and I'd long since seen any footprints in the mud. The time to turn around had come.

     The sun was peaking out occassionally through clouds and framed nicely against the rising stand of birch on the other side of the stream. This setting was an excellent place to take a break. Serendipity placed a flat boulder just off the trail that was nearly dry on top. I hopped a few boggy spots and clambered up the rock for a good long break. Changed socks and shirt, had a large snack and took in what little sun there was to dry off my upper body and feet. By 09:45 I started back from where I'd come.

     I nearlly missed the trail down to the creek that I'd though to mark on the way out. I was feeling good and moving pretty quickly through the soaking forest and completely missed my trail tape. I came to a point on the trail about 200m past that spot and realized that I'd certainly missed the spot. Backtracked and found my way down to the creek.

     Early June in the mountains made this creek anything but a creek. In the Northwoods of Wisconsin/Minnesota, Wisconsin, a creek is narrow and slow. This creek was anything but a creek by Northwoods standards. Shore to shore spanned nearly 30ft. The water was a few feet deep in most places. Mostly, though, the amount and force of the water running down the side of the mountain was awe-inspiring. I carefully made my way out to a rock in the middle of the "creek" to sit and watch the water and birds. I'd seen almost no other signs of wildlife today. I didn't spend more than 15 minutes before I was restless and ready to move on. Back at the car at 11:10.

     The time explore another part of the park had come. I could see that off to the East the sky was clear. The edge of clouds hung directly over my head. After a day and half of rain it was time to find some sun.

Rainy Pass is right on HWY 20 in the Okanagon Natl Forest. A little 7 mile loop trail, the Maple Pass Loop could be found right there and I thought that might just fit the bill. The drive over was spectacular, taking me back past Diablo Lake and then past the lower shore of Ross Lake. The highway twists and turns through the valley with 7000ft mountains on both sides. Waterfalls were around every turn, and finally a few deer.

     As the highway left Ross Lake and the Natl Park behind the ground cover changed rapidly from green to white. Most places along HWY 20 still had substantial snow cover. Not inches but feet.

     A few trails start at this part of HWY 20. Jack Mountain Trail climbs a few miles up to Crater Mtn at 8128ft and then continues North to meet up with several other trails in the Okanogan Natl Forest. The Pacific Crest Trail runs parallel to the road for several miles, but is nicely tucked in a few miles East, hidden in forested mountains. Eventually, at Rainy Pass, the PCT makes an appearance on the road.

Easy Pass, at 6562ft, splits Mt. Arriva (7985ft) and Mesahchie Peak (8215ft) only a 3.5 mile hike from the road. Two cars were parked at the trailhead, leaving their drivers to hike nearly 2000ft in 3.5 miles. I wasn't up for that today. My feet and legs were pretty beat and the amount of snow cover made certain that trail was a tougher one that I cared to tackle that day.

     Finally, Rainy Pass at 4860ft. A nice large parking lot, except nearly 2/3 of it was covered in three feet of snow. A car was already at the lot. The trailhead the Maple Pass Loop was covered in 3 to 4 feet of snow and there were no prints at all. The only other prints lead along a 1.0 mile nature trail to Rainy Lake. I did not have topo maps on hand so I had no idea what awaited.

     I started following fresh footprints in the snow. There was no trail and the footprints went up and then came back and then off to the left, only to backtrack. Whomever I was following was having problems finding their way. Road to the left; mountain to the right, but plent of rolling terrain and low ridges between. Hiking on snow pack like that takes great care and a skill called "route finding."

      Route Finding, yeah. Reading trail conditions for the mountain trails, whether in the Pacific Northwest or the Rocky's or where-ever you will come across a statement such as "snow free to X. All snow to Y. Route finding skills required." I never full grasped the meaning of this term. My thoughts go back to bush-whacking in the Northwoods where you pick your way through bogs and swamps by following game trails and trying to find some landmarks. Once above the treeline and on a completely snowed over ridge, none of those things apply. I posed that question to the ranger I'd met the day before. His definition of "route-finding" was to find your way across a snow field that did not put you into crevasse, slide you down the side of the mountain, or put you in a mountain creek. I pushed a little further for some techniques to that skill. He replied, "I don't know. My hope is I never have to worry about that."

     Well, "route-finding" skills such as that were not going to be needed in this forested ridge-side, but there were some things that were of concern.

The area was generally flat, but from the road to the very steep side of the moutain was only about 800m. Several narrow spurs jutted out from the mountain creating valleys and ravines at various points. This also meant a few established streams and dozens of run-off flows. All of this was buried under 3 to 5 feet of melting snow. Walking across that slippery snow you might suddenly punch through a weak spot and find yourself knee deep in freezing water. Wet and cold you now have to pull yourself up a 3 foot snow bank that is crumbling at your every exertion.

     The snow melts around the base of larger trees creating 4 foot drop-offs that you can easily slide down. Once sliding you become tangled up in the soaking wet undergrowth. Perfect for twisting ankles and knees.

Aware of all this, knowing my "route-finding" skills on snow are mediocre at best, and understanding that the two sets of prints I'd been following were unsure of the way (and were wet – found a place where they punched through to a stream), I made the most direct and careful route back to the parking lot for another try. On the way back I saw something and then another something. The first something was that hopping the stream as I had intended was not necessary. Fifty feet away was a nice wooden bridge; no rails, but still a bridge. I could see the edge of it now that I was above the stream from the bridge. The bridge itself was buried under 4ft of snow. When I got to the bridge I saw the other something. That was the last two inches of the top of a wooden bench. The nature trail had benches set up every so often, maybe every 300ft or so. Route-finding skills!

     After the third "bench-mark", the two other hikers in the area saw me and came hustling over. They were wondering what I was looking for so intently with binoculars and naked eye. I explained my method and the three of us quickly made it to Rainy Lake.

Rainy Lake is nothing short of exquisite. The lake itself is small, perhaps 500m across and 800m long. The North and West shores are heavily forested, but the South and East are straight up and eventually reaching Kangaroo Ridge and the top of Frisco Mountain at over 7500ft.

Waterfalls cascade down the steep rocky slopes splashing into the icy deep blue water of the lake. The sun was fully out, the snow melting, and the waterfalls were full throttle. The two women had camera equipment and fishing poles and seemed like they were done with my services. A few pictures and I hiked back out to the lot.

Rainy Lake

     The day was still young and there were a few hours of sunlight remaining. One more place I wanted to check out today.

     When planning the trip I had a hike on the candidate list that did not make the cut. The Sahale Glacier sits on the SouthEast part of the park, right on the slopes of Sahale Mt (8400ft). Trails lead in all sorts of directions and would provide a great higher elevation hike. I'd also taken a look at the Hidden Lakes trail a few miles North of Sahale. Both of these trailheads are along the Cascade River Road.

     The trail conditions revealed in mid-May ruled out both of those areas. The Hidden Lakes area was still under significant snow, the road not completely open. The route to Sahale had hit a bit of a more significant snag. The flooding Cascade River had completely closed the Cascade River Rd just South of the turn-off to Hidden Lakes. I was interested to see just what "closed" meant.

     I drove back through the park and then into Marblemount. The Cascade River Road is picked up on the other side of a narrow bridge and then follows along the river for miles. The scenery was fantastic and at several points I had to stop to just get out and look around. The clouds had once again completely taken over. There were going to be no visible peaks, but the forest and river provided enough on their own. I drove by a couple of groups camping along the turn-outs in the road. This section of the road was outside the National Park in the Snoqualamie Natl Forest. Pretty much camp where you can.

     Along the way the road continually narrows. Starting out as a wide dirt/stone road, within a few miles the road is narrow enough that two cars could not comfortably pass. I was in a spot where the road was narrow enough to hit branches on the passenger side a sign appeared "Road Narrows Ahead". I thought how could the road possibly... oh, that's how. This was now more the width of an narrow ATV trail. Branches and ferns brushed against both sides, but the road itself was solid and flat, albeit wet. I found a little parking area where two other cars had parked. Knowing the wash-out was no more than a half mile ahead I parked and begain trekking down the "road" further. I gave a quick wave to the campers just beyond the parking area and trudged on. A bit over a quarter mile later I came to the literal end of the road. I stood at the end of road and looked across a few hundred feet to where the road picked up again, sort of. Several hundred feet of the road were simply gone, leaving a twisting maze of sharp banks and torrents of water.

     I snapped a few pictures and made my way back to food and sleep.

Where'd it go?

Day 3 – One Last Look

     I woke up quite late on this morning. I was really sore the night before and that kept me from being able to fall asleep easily. I finished the book I had picked up at the airport and still could not get to sleep. By 8:15, though, I really needed to get up. I was pretty much done hiking, but was not done with the Cascades quite yet. My flight was early the next morning and I'd booked a hotel across from the airport. I still have several hours before I needed to head down to the hotel in Seattle. Still, cleanup, pack up and shove everything in the car.

     The first few strides across the gravel to the car told me I wasn't going to spend much time on my feet. My left hip and thigh were next to useless and both knees were stiff as could be. This wasn't a stiffness and pain that was going to work itself out after a couple miles. This needed three days of rest.

    

     Mt Baker is a massively huge chunk of Earth dominating the skyline of Western Washington. Although the sky was once again densely overcast my desire was to get as close to Mt Baker as possible. The time required to get there from the North side was far longer than I had. I set my goal as Schriebers Meadow on the Southern side of Mt Baker.

     Baker Lake Rd is picked up off HWY 20 at Birdsview Siding, just West of Concrete, WA. The road travels between the high ridges of Bald-Sauk Mtn, Mt Shuskan, Lake Shannon and then up to Lake Baker and the lower spurs of Mt Baker.

     At the very Southern end of Baker Lake FR 12 is a left turn off Baker Lake Rd. FR 13 runs off of that after a few miles. Both forest roads were in very good condition. Muddy, but easily passable in the little front wheel drive, low clearance rental. The elevation climbs gradually along FR 12. Once on FR 13 the elevation begins to climb a bit more dramatically.

     Every 200ft of elevation climb I watched the temperature drop. 56F, 52F, 48F... Somewhere along FR 13 I began to see snow in the forest. Small piles among the pine that had not yet completely melted. 38F.

     The end of FR 13 is a parking lot and a campground. Trails leave the campground to climb the ridges and slopes and find their way to Schriebers Meadow.

     The snow increased now and the forest was now mostly in snow. I drove over a snow bank about 8 inches high. The car turned a bend and I stopped. I didn't stop because that pickup truck was blocking the road. No, I stopped because the pickup truck was blocking the path to beginning of snow that closed the road. I parked, got out the camera, put on the hat and went over and talked to the two cross country skiiers putting on their gear in the back of the pickup.

The campground was still 400m up the road and I was game enough to go. I walked up to the campground where most of the campsite posts were not visible under several feet of snow. At times I was walking at the level of young trees. The cloud cover made seeing anything more than 200ft above me impossible. I took in the view of the snow and the creek that cut it's way through the snow. Hiking to Schreibers Meadow would have been a bad idea. Time to go.

    

      I stopped at the Dam, Horseshoe Cove, made a local mad for driving too slow. Around 14:00 it was time to head for Seattle, leaving the mountains to be just another memory.

     A great memory. I have some excellent stories from this trip. This trip also gave me some much needed confidence in my physical ability. I now knew what my capabilities were, physically and mentally. How many miles I could put on. What kind of terrain I could deal with. How wet I could become.

I was bothered that I gave up on Sourdough Mtn, but I came away with a very good understanding of what my new body could deal with. Perhaps five years prior to this I would have pushed on. Today, unless it was life or death, I wouldn't.

This was also the beginning of a different way of thinking on the trail that has persisted to this day. On the trail, I think about the trail. I seem to simply shut off the other parts of life, those thoughts. I'd never been able to have that kind of focus before. The hike along Diobsud Creek ranks among my very favorites hikes and one the favorite days of my life.