Eagle Peak Saddle, November 4, 2009

Eagle Peak Saddle - November 4, 2009

We felt like we’d got away with something. Pulling off a last-minute high elevation hike without significant snow or foul weather. Last weeks hike to Rampart Ridge was snowy and icy. Today’s hike to Eagle Peak Saddle was like a return to early fall.

To get to the Eagle Peak trailhead park at Longmire, then walk through the parks administration buildings and cross the Nisqually River on a solid bridge. The trailhead can be found just past the bridge on the left-hand side. There’s also a great view of Mount Rainier from the bridge.

The hike starts off in forest with salal, deer ferns and old growth trees; the trail is in good condition though there is one fallen tree to maneuver over or around. At the end of the switchbacks spur trails lead to an un-named tributary that flows into the river. We checked some of these out but the creek is hard to photograph, at least with our digital cameras.

The trail seldom stops climbing until it gets to Eagle Peak Saddle. We set our pace accordingly, what I call my “forever” pace. As we gained elevation the forest became more expansive and it brought back memories of previous visits, including a snowshoe trip on a cold, foggy day a few years ago. I also remembered a summer visit when the meadows below the saddle were a riot of wildflower displays. Mostly, I’ve hiked here alone – it is a good trail for solitude.

The climb is relentless and offers few level stretches to hikers but it’s a small price to pay for the rewards ahead. The forested, secluded trail does not attract many hikers – there are easier trails to get to for views but this trail can be hiked or snowshoed year-round. It’s a good place to go in winter when the road is gated at Longmire and safe as a snowshoe trip, at least for the first 3-1/2 miles.

After crossing the nameless stream on a footbridge the trail levels out for a bit before it resumes its climb. The trees thin out and a rocky peak comes into view above tawny meadows with dabs of fall color here and there. The trail contours below a talus slope then heads uphill again into another forested stretch.

There we ran into a little bit of snow but the snow was soft and didn’t obscure the trail. As the trail emerged from the last stand of trees short, steep switchbacks made quick work of the climb to Eagle Peak Saddle. Here a sign warns hikers they have gone far enough. I almost forgot to mention the views en route to the saddle – once we left the trees we enjoyed views of Mount Adams and Mount Saint Helens, too far away to photograph.

The last stretch of the trail was snow-free; we were glad to get to the saddle without having to negotiate steep snow.

In winter the first 3-1/2 miles of the trail offer a safe snowshoe trip. With snow the summer route becomes hazardous; only experienced hikers with avalanche awareness and winter-travel skills should venture beyond the last forested stretch. Even those experienced in the arts of winter-travel take a different route to get to the saddle, avoiding the open, exposed slopes where danger of avalanche is moderate to high.

As you approach the saddle on the last of the switchbacks Eagle Peak is to the left. There a climber’s path leads to the summit; I tried it once but turned around short of the summit. I was alone and getting to the summit was beyond my comfort level. Besides the view of Mount Rainier and the Tatoosh peaks from the saddle are eye-candy enough for anyone. Bring the map to identify other peaks in the region.

On our way down from the saddle we stopped for another break at the end of the switchbacks for one last view of Mount Adams, Mount Saint Helens and the dark surrounding foothills. As we approached Longmire we spotted a raccoon near the administration buildings, our only “wildlife” sighting of the day.

I bet it’s snowing like Hell up there today.

Rampart Ridge, Mount Rainier, October 27, 2009

Rampart Ridge Loop (Mount Rainier National Park) October 28, 2009


These hikes at Mount Rainier National Park were only a week apart but as different as night from day. Rampart Ridge felt like a winter hike, Eagle Peak Saddle (to follow) a fall hike.

Hikers who hike year round sometimes refer to late fall/early winter hikes as “snowline probers”. Would we need snowshoes on Rampart Ridge or not? Where was the snowline? The snowline in November rises and falls on a daily basis; no two days in November are alike. Sometimes the only way to find out is to head for the trailhead. We gambled we wouldn’t need snowshoes for Rampart Ridge at Mount Rainier and left them behind.

As it turned out snowshoes were not needed but Yak Trax sure would have come in handy. Fresh snow had fallen but we were not expecting ice.

To find the trail park at Longmire and cross the Nisqually Paradise road to “Trail of the Shadows”, a popular nature trail where this hike begins. We hiked clockwise hoping the gray skies would clear – it’s about a 2-mile climb to the ridge-crest and you’re better off hiking toward Mount Rainier rather than away from it. Turn left and start out on the nature trail. In a few paces you’ll come to a bridge; there was no snow on the bridge but the trail was plastered with fallen leaves, the wooden bridge icy and slick.

The Rampart Ridge trail is well signed and starts on the uphill side of the nature trail. The trail begins to climb immediately at a moderate grade through forest and is in good shape except for icy patches here and there. The iciest patches are along the lower elevations of the trail. Long, lazy switchbacks through the forest lead to an opening in the trees where there is a good view of the Nisqually River.

Signs of fall are just about gone; the oak ferns and bracken are pale, the vanilla leaf thin and mottled, mushrooms have emerged, some of them dusted with snow, others shattered and lying in pieces beside the trail. The huckleberry bushes that hung heavy with fruit not so long ago have lost most of their leaves.

As we climbed fresh snow replaced the ice and at about 4,044 feet we reached a junction where a spur descends to an overlook of Longmire, foothills and the Nisqually River.
After enjoying the view we continued on the main trail to a high point (4,093 feet). The trail is level for a half-mile or so through the forest; here, the snow was 2-3 inches deep.

This is a pretty trail and we delighted in the ice-sheathed branches of shrubs and snow-dusted evergreens, the subdued tones of shrubs and fallen leaves. When we stopped for a break we were immediately surrounded by gray jays (camp-robbers); it is just about impossible not to be delighted with these birds, they are plucky and seem optimistic as they dart about in their endless quest for food. In logging camps they hung around mess-halls, hence camp-robbers. They eat insects, seeds and berries; they are also meat-eaters (better keep an eye on your lunch!).

As the trail levels off there is a good view of Mount Rainier on a clear day but we were denied the view. Given the overcast it was hard to tell the snowy mountain from the white sky. The trail reaches a junction for the Wonderland Trail at 3,912 feet; here we turned right to continue the loop. You’d turn left if you were bound for Indian Henrys Hunting Ground (5 miles further). We turned right again at the next junction where another trail continues to Van Trump Park and Mildred Point.

The Wonderland trail descended toward Longmire; as we descended the snow disappeared and we were on bare dirt for the rest of the hike. We noticed and stopped to admire several grand old-growth conifers on the way. We did slip and slide on a stretch of icy puncheon before coming out on the Nisqually-Paradise road. The trail crosses the road, enters the forest and in less than ¼ of a mile comes out again at Longmire.

We’d had enough of hiking in the cold but weren’t ready to leave Mount Rainier so extended our visit by driving to Christine Falls an attraction we’d driven by many times without stopping (you can see the waterfall from the road). However, to get the best view of the waterfall park on the far side of the stone bridge where a short path descends to a better view of the waterfall, framed by the graceful bridge.

Stats: 4.6 miles round trip, about 1,800 feet of elevation gain.

Halloween Hike, Robe Canyon, Big Four, 10-31-09

Robe Canyon and Big Four Ice Caves (October 31, 2009)

Sometimes the Monte Cristo Area is at its best when it’s at its worst.

Several of us got together for a Halloween hike in the Monte Cristo area. The setting, of course, was Robe Canyon with its spooky tunnels. With fantasies of getting to the tunnel, lighting candles, eating candy and being generally silly even the downpour could not dampen our spirits.

Besides, the weather report indicated only a 20-30 percent chance of rain. That didn’t sound so bad. As we drove toward the trailhead the rain intensified but we were prepared with rain-gear, good boots and some of us carried umbrellas as well. How hard can it be to hike 3 miles in the rain?

Well, we didn’t get very far - shortly past the point where the trail comes out near the Stillaguamish River we were stopped by a raging ….uh, tributary. Since parts of the trail to that point were literally under water and our feet were still remarkably dry, we thought it best to turn around and enjoy Halloween elsewhere.

My main concern with rain is keeping the camera dry and being able to see through my glasses so I carried and used an umbrella the entire way. My pack got soaked and so did my legs but both pack and legs dried out quickly at home. Despite the deluge we were jazzed by the colors the rain brought out on the trail, the brilliant green of licorice ferns growing on gold-green Big-leaf maples, the gray green of the Stillaguamish River flowing beside the old railroad grade.

Back at the car spirits were still high so Plan B went into effect; we’d celebrate Halloween at the Big Four Picnic Shelter. Diving into the cars, still in our boots, off we went up the Mountain Loop Highway to Big Four. En route we were mesmerized by the “new” waterfalls pouring off the foothills near Lake 22 and elsewhere along the route. Sheets of water, like panes of glass, slid across the highway. It was both ominous and gorgeous.

The Picnic Area was virtually deserted; another party was just leaving so we had the place to ourselves. We gathered under the picnic shelter and ate our lunch, passed out candy and donned our masks. Steve by far had the best costume; he emerged from the restroom in the form of a werewolf. My devil’s horns paled in comparison.

After finishing lunch we hiked out to see the new bridge over the Stillaguamish; we were already wet so we might as well keep hiking. After leaving the picnic area the trail crosses a marshy area on a boardwalk; here the water was almost as high as the boardwalk. It is the kind of rain I have been known to describe as “fat” rain. Big, big drops.

When we got to the bridge we thought we might as well continue to the Ice Caves; why not? Those of us with cameras hunkered down with umbrellas and took photos of mushrooms, the colorful leaves of Canadian dogwood and other vegetation. As the trail rounded a hillside of devastation from floods/blow-outs from recent years ago we came to another “tributary” that was flowing fast and deep enough to call for caution (though by then we were so wet it wouldn’t have mattered if we’d stepped into the water).

After leaving the mangled forest we came to another series of boardwalk and bridges; here it had rained so hard that the boardwalk was covered with water in places. One bridge is broken in the middle with a wicked slant; you can bypass it by walking beside it.

We were surprised by the fall color that still surrounded the ice caves and the waterfalls spilling down the cliffs of Big Four; the bad weather seemed to only enhance the rugged beauty.

Though the elements were downright unfriendly we felt it was a privilege to spend time there – however, we gratefully stopped in at Ike’s at Granite Falls for hot drinks and food before driving home.

Two "little" hikes

Mount Pilchuck (October 24, 2009)

Mount Pilchuck!! It’d been a while since my last visit so when friends suggested going there, I happily joined them.

As we drove the Mountain Loop highway we saw snow on the peaks above; we couldn’t wait to hit the trailhead. There’s something about that “first” snow that is special.

There were only a couple of other cars at the trailhead much to our surprise. We set out on a trail-turned-stream, not too surprising given fresh snow and rising temperatures. We encountered a creek crossing that was a little dicey but managed to get across without getting our feet wet.

Though much work has been done on the trail to improve the tread it had rained hard enough that the trail was a stream in places and roots were slick.

We didn’t get to Pilchuck proper; one of my pals wasn’t feeling well so they turned around to head back to the car hiking slowly. I hiked for another 30 minutes then turned around, planning to get back to the trailhead about the same time they would.

With one eye on my watch and the other on the trail I was compelled to stop to marvel anew at the snow-dusted scenery. The boulders and trees were bedecked with fresh snow and the summit ridge was backlit by the sun; it was lovely.

By the time I turned around the crowds were coming up the trail; hikers (many of them with dogs) and it was getting too crowded for my comfort so I raced down the trail to join my friends and head back home.

Talus Loop (Mount Si Recreation Area) October 25, 2009

After Saturday’s short hike I opted to hike on Sunday. Weather was “iffy” so I headed for Mount Si to hike the Talus Loop. Wanting to avoid weekend crowds the Talus Loop was perfect. Never have I run into another hiker on that trail.

As it often the case I didn’t run into anyone on the Talus Loop and the trail has a “wilder” feel than the regular trail. As I approached the talus field for which the trail is named I stopped for the view, noticing that vine maple was still aflame at the edge of the boulder field.

Back in the forest I dawdled, taking photographs of mushrooms and the last of the fall color.

All too soon I was back on the main trail but I won’t grumble; Mount Si is a place for hikers of all ages, shapes and abilities. When I hike the main trail I usually run into someone I know; that’s always fun too.

Umtanum Canyon, October 22, 2009

Umtanum Creek, October 22, 2009

We were so intrigued with the Umtanum Falls Creek trail last week we went back to Ellensburg, this time to hike the Umtanum Creek trail from Highway 821 (Yakima Canyon Road). The weather was perfect for hiking, a golden October day with mostly blue skies and comfortable temperatures.

The hike starts off by crossing the Yakima River on a suspension bridge – though the bridge sways and creaks, it is perfectly safe. Then you can go over or under the railroad tracks to a network of trails that are not signed.

If you are unfamiliar with the area the trails (left) lead to various points on Umtanum Ridge; the Umtanum Creek trail goes (moreorless) straight. These are not your typical hiking trails – these are trails designed to roam and wander. As far as we are concerned “somewhere” is destination enough.

The Umtanum Creek trail heads into the canyon, following the creek, at times veering away. The first mile or so can be a little confusing; the trail changes each season depending on what the beavers are up to and social trails run hither and yon. Aim yourself toward the canyon and follow the “best” trail.

It used to be that you could find the remains of an old homestead at about a mile; but now there is little left but posts and a few apple trees gone wild. Imagination comes into play in such a setting; where would you put a homestead if such a thing were possible? How sweet it would be to live in a cabin and fall asleep to the chorus of frogs and wake to meadowlarks. Idyllic as this sounds, it would take a lot of hard work to set up a homestead and keep it going. In such an isolated spot you’d learn to read the weather and the land, you’d learn how to fix things when they broke down. Though these lowlands are lovely now in their golden October attire, in the spring it is tick-laden and you need to be on the alert for rattlesnakes.

We stopped at the remains of another orchard; an ideal spot for lunch. Here was a stumpy, lichen-encrusted apple tree laden with fruit; some apples had fallen to the ground, some we picked and ate on the spot.

Hunters we met said we might spot sheep on the canyon walls but I never seem to have much luck when it comes to spotting wildlife. Therefore when Jim spotted sheep I was delighted to actually see them; two of them sitting on a rocky shelf a hundred feet or so above us. As for wildlife photography, I will never put Art Wolfe out of business but I did get some decent images; so did Maxine and Silverback.

The bighorn sheep seemed aware of our presence but were not alarmed at our being there. We waited and watched; soon four rams headed purposefully toward the single ram and the doe. Not knowing much about the life cycle of bighorn sheep, we wondered if it was rutting season yet and would there be a fight for the doe?

Then, somewhat humorously, the rams joined forces and bounded off together, away from the doe. They reminded me of a bunch of gossiping teenage boys that weren’t that comfortable around girls. No girls allowed!!

We resumed hiking through mostly open terrain but the canyon began to gradually close in; at times the trail narrowed through brushy thickets and along the edge of beaver dams. At one point the trail contoured a talus slope; here, someone had built an elaborate walkway of steppingstones, seemingly in the middle of nowhere. Who?

A few hardy Ponderosa pines graced the rocky slopes, alluring trails led to draws and rocky outcroppings that called out for further exploration. Always bound by the tyranny of Time we knew the hours were moving faster than our feet; we’d dawdled too long in the autumn glory of the canyon.

When we reached a thicket of tough, interlocking vegetation we knew it was time to turn around. Jim estimated we were still a couple miles from Durr Road so that would have to wait for another day.

On our way out an amazing thing happened: we had only seen a few people on the trail, the hunting party, a woman and her dog and a young local who had hiked all the way around the rim. So I was amazed when the brush parted and a familiar red jacket appeared; it was a local Mountaineer I have known for 30 years. It’s surprising how often this kind of encounter occurs when one hikes on a regular basis.

Back where the trail goes under/over the railroad tracks we met the young hunter again. He’d left his truck a few miles from the trailhead on Canyon Road so we gave him a ride back to his truck.

Stats: About 6 miles round trip, no significant elevation gain.

Hardy souls with rugged rigs can leave a car at Durr Road where the road crosses Umtanum Creek but since we have not done so, I cannot attest to what kind of rig you’d need to tackle the purportedly rough road. You’d need two cars for a one-way hike with a car shuttle.

As for hiking out to the Umtanum Creek Falls. trailhead on Umtanum Road, that would add up to about a 10-11 mile hike one-way. Perhaps a long summer day with a car shuttle; perhaps someday.

Squak Mountain, October 18, 2009

Squeaking By on Squak Mountain

I always wondered about the Old Griz trail, having heard it was an undefined trail, perhaps a challenge to follow. This week I found out more than I needed to know about the Old Griz trail. Squak might be tame as mountains go but Squak has a bag of tricks for unwary hikers or those who don’t hike there on a regular basis. It’s not a dangerous mountain; it can be annoying.

Just about the time you think you’ve got the trail system figured out (or at least your favorite trails) and figure you can hike your favorite loop without the map, Squak Mountain might trick you. No excuses here; guilty as charged. I didn’t take the map; I’d heard there was a new map available - so no worries there. It was a perfect golden day in October so I’d hike my favorite loop (East Ridge Trail, East Side Trail), no problem.

My goal was not only exercise but also photography; namely fall color shots and hopefully, mushrooms. I approached the East Ridge trail from Issaquah; that way I could enjoy the views of Issaquah Creek before hitting the trail proper. Issaquah, by the way, is aflame with fall color now as is Issaquah Creek.

The fall color continues along the East Ridge trail; there’s a grove of vine maple mid-way that is stunning right now. Also, at lower elevations the trail is lined with maidenhair ferns; I have never seen so much maidenhair in one place. There are a couple of small blow downs on the East Ridge trail before the junction with the East Side trail; but not too hard to get over or around.

The East Side trail was familiar; I especially like the stretch where the trail crosses a small creek and weaves between house-sized boulders. I met very hikers on any of the trails; a couple of runners and a young couple with a dog. Most savvy hikers were probably taking advantage of higher country before it shuts down for the winter.

As is so often the case, I dither as I hike and change plans as I go. Planning to hike toward SR 900 I stopped at a spanking new sign for the Old Griz trail. That intrigued me so I changed my plan and decided to follow the Old Griz trail instead of continuing on the East Side trail.

The Old Griz trail is in excellent condition; perhaps it always has been. Either that or someone has been doing a lot of work on the trail because it is easy to follow and junctions are signed. There are also a couple of original signs for the Old Griz trail nailed to trees that have grown high enough over the years that you’d have to be a giant to reach them now.

Since the Old Griz trail was climbing when I came to a signed junction for Central Peak I went that way. I could use the extra elevation gain so I continued on the Old Griz trail, following the signs to Central Peak.

Central Peak is one of my least favorite summits; it doesn’t feel like a summit at all. It’s the site of a microwave tower but that is not the only thing from detracting from summit ambience; it’s the lack of a view. Even minor summits provide a view as a rule (there are exceptions in the Issaquah Alps) so I didn’t linger.

I started down the mountain on Phil’s Creek trail; but somehow became confused by new signage and at one point thought I was descending toward May Creek valley. I continued on the Old Griz trail, relieved to find the junction to the East Side trail. I had been entertaining visions of ending up in May Creek valley and having to climb the mountain again to get back to the trailhead.

No GPS either; by the way. After all, who would need one on a tame mountain like Squak Mountain (well, don’t answer that question). I retraced my route on the East Side trail back to the East Ridge trail, still puzzled by not being able to find what I remembered as Thrush Gap. Oh well.

Soon I was striding beside Issaquah Creek again and I got another surprise; this one special. Right beside the trail was a huge pileated woodpecker, working away at a snag. I stood perfectly still so as not to startle him in hopes of taking a photograph but no dice, he sensed my presence and flew away.

I still can’t locate my old Cougar Mountain-Squak Mountain map but I know I gained about 2,000 feet of elevation and probably hiked about 7 miles round trip.

A Rainy Day in West Seattle

The weather was not conducive to going to the mountains today so between showers I walked about my neighborhood - Delridge, in West Seattle.

Everyone probably has favorite places to go or look at on a day like this or any day when they have the blues (whether the "blues" is weather-related or personal makes no difference). I just know that when I am "blue" that on days I don't hike, getting outside is a must.

My companion on days like this is the camera. The camera is patient with me, doesn't mind if I dawdle or spend 15 minutes on my knees in a garden looking for exquisite rain drops. I've hiked with friends and will again but sometimes it's good to be alone.

Today, a double whammy, a blues-induced by loss of what I believed to be a lifelong friendship; that combined with the weather inspired me to escape my thoughts and what better place to go than outside? Whether it's the neighborhood, Mount Si or an abandoned trail doesn't matter; getting out. Out! Out! Out!

On such forays I don't see much to photograph at first. It takes me a while to get into "seeing" mode. After I've walked a while I begin to see "differently"; I notice small things I would not usually notice. Things like rain drops on leaves, the many shades of yellow spotted on a discarded corn stalk, a clutter of leaves at a curb. The ordinary becomes spectacular; at least to my eyes. The camera doesn't always agree with me but sometimes it does.

My first stop was Greg Davis Park on the corner of 26th and Juneau Street, not far from our little yellow house. Next was the neighborhood P-patch. After that I wandered through alleys and down Delridge for a ways.

I'm home now; listening to music that some might consider an odd combination: Dead Can Dance, Smetana, Vaughn Williams, The Doors -- it seems to lift me up and carry me not only to the past but into the moment. This moment.

Right now.