Dirty Harry's Truck

The Damned Truck - early June, 2010

The Damned Truck (Dirty Harry’s Deuce and a half)

Early June, 2010

How many times have I tramped up Dirty Harry’s Road near North Bend to look for that rumored truck? Friends had found it, other hikers posted photographs of it on their web pages yet I met with failure every time I tried.

Until last week – thanks to a friend - we found the truck. We hiked the rocky, miserable road again, ignoring the turn off to Dirty Harry’s balcony, bypassing the crumpled, rusted artifacts from Dirty Harry’s legendary days of gyppo logging along the road – after all, we’d seen those many times before.

It is surprising how close it is to Dirty Harry’s Road and Museum Creek. The mistake we made before was crossing the creek, THEN looking for an old road where the truck can be found. This might have been true once upon a time but that truck has been sitting there a long time and alders have grown, making the snippet of old road difficult to spot let alone follow.

This time we didn’t cross Museum Creek; we looked for a path a few paces below creek. It took us a couple tries to find the path - it is hard to distinguish the path from thick vegetation. So - the easiest way to find the truck – at least for us befuddled geezers – is to hike to the creek, turn around, backtrack a few paces and spot the trail on the uphill side of the road (left).

A much as we enjoy exploring this path does not invite exploration; it’s a mess. Don’t look for flagging – it doesn’t exist. If you miss it, try again. The path is short and claustrophobic with obstacles of small, downed trees, brush and an almost impenetrable wall of crowded cedars.

We did eventually spot a ribbon and knew we were on the right track. You could tell that this old road had been a working road but it has been taken over by alders. We were only a few feet away from Museum Creek. Per instructions we followed the road (easterly direction) to a switchback marked with a large boulder; here the road heads back toward the creek.

The road (if one could call it that) veered into a thicket of cedars and dense brush; a few ribbons guided the way and after a wrestling match with ferocious cedars we spotted the rusting hulk of the Deuce and a half through the vegetation.

There lay an old radiator in the stream, the truck itself still mostly in one piece, the doors riddled with bullet holes, the smashed, headlights, the engine block, the flatbed, the whole mess. Peering into the cab we saw a jumble of leaves and clutter; someone had left a Rainier beer can on the driver’s seat. The windows of the cab are long gone and there are holes in the roof of the cab where daylight trickles in.

At first glance it looks like it had run into a boulder come to rest against near the creek. We don’t know – of course – how the truck got there or why – one can only speculate. We spent a lot of time photographing the truck though photographs can’t capture the mood of the place. It’s odd – it’s almost like the truck doesn’t want to be “found” or perhaps Harry knew he’d come to the end of the line and left his truck there to quietly rust away and slowly disappear over time.

We’ve been hiking for over 30 years and never met anyone who met Dirty Harry, not even Harvey Manning. Last I heard he was in a retirement home – and the old place where he used to live amidst a clutter of aging trucks is gone, likely to become someone’s moneyed “dream home” near the river.

When – and if – you find the truck sit down for a moment in the silence and ponder the man who drove this vehicle up and down cliff-hanging roads and put in roads where others feared to tread. Dirty Harry’s roads are all over the place though they are slowly being taken over by alders. Some day there will be little evidence so if you find a mangled piece of metal along the road or trail, let it be – it has a right to rest.

(I think even Harvey Manning had grudging admiration for Dirty Harry – they were both curmudgeons and they both loved the land in their own, fierce way.)

To find it (or not): Exit 38 (I-90), head toward the fire training center (don’t park outside the gate you might get locked in if you’re late). After parking walk up the road, cross the Snoqualmie River and in roughly 1/3 to ¼ of a mile find the hard-to-miss path on the right-hand side of the road. There is no sign. The path is Dirty Harry’s Road, follow that until you get to Museum Creek and good luck finding the path.

Hypothermia Hills, April 6, 2010

HYPOTHERMIA HILLS (April 6, 2010)

Q: Where the heck is Hypothermia Hills? A: Just about any trail near North Bend on a rainy day.

This was just about the most entertaining but frustrating hike we’ve done lately. The trail is not really a trail, rather it is a route that has sprung up like weeds that lead to any number of destinations, none of them sane or easily described. Add rain, sleet and mud and you’ve got Hypothermia Hills.

This trail (for lack of a better word) is undoubtedly nothing to a rock climber but a hiker will have their work cut out for them. It could be considered one of the climbers’ trails off Exit No. 38 and you might be able to find more information about this trail by researching The Internet or a bookstore, especially a used bookstore.

Of greater interest to some: you can look up “Dirty Harry” on The Internet but this Dirty Harry is not to be confused with Clint Eastwood. Dirty Harry was a gyppo logger who put in logging roads where other road-builders refused to tread. Let’s just say the foothills around North Bend were his cathedral, a place where his used-up trucks and equipment could forever rest.

A hike called “Dirty Harry’s Balcony” should also give you some idea of what to expect of the terrain and though guidebook author Harvey Manning was not fond of the logging industry (especially gyppo loggers), I believe he had a grudging admiration for wily Dirty Harry who built roads too stubborn to die. Legend has it that Harry is still around and if he’s not, his ghost is. Every time I come across a cable in the brush, I get a shiver thinking of Dirty Harry and the way he shaped the land up around North Bend. I also believe that though he used the land he loved it fiercely.

There’s also a place where a stream crosses Dirty Harry’s road where persistent hikers find and photograph the slow death of one of Dirty Harry’s trucks. I’ve looked but haven’t found it yet; like Harry, it eludes me.

I may have met his ghost. Recently on our way to Mount Si we screeched to a halt along the Mount Si Road where elk had just crossed and were disappearing into a field, silent as shadows. A few other vehicles braked to a stop and pulled off to the side for a closer look. A fiftyish fellow in a beat-up pickup had pulled over and rolled his window down – he was holding on to a cup of coffee with one hand and his lower denture in the other as he expounded to us on how “great” it is to see elk so close. We were as fascinated by this local as we were the elk – he was so amazingly unself-conscious about how he looked. I almost asked his name but didn’t. I’m basically shy. It’s one of the reasons I write.

When I was writing for The Seattle Post Intelligencer I got a handwritten letter from a reader who was a child when she encountered him on a logging road in North Bend. Her family had gone for a picnic and a Sunday drive on the back roads when their car broke down. It was getting on toward twilight and it was too far for the father to hike down to North Bend. As they sat in the car trying to think what to do a couple of rough-looking fellows pulled up in a beat-up truck. This was back in the days before cell phones; the men offered to drive the father down to North Bend for help. The woman continued her story describing how long it felt to sit in the car with her mother as darkness fell, waiting for her father to return. The story had a happy ending – obviously the ruffians were good men and did not harm anyone in the family.

Back to the present: Instead of going to North Bend we continued east, turning off I-90 at Exit 38; from there we continued east along the frontage road (Old US 10) to the east end of the exit (to head back west you have to drive back along the frontage road for the west-bound on-ramp). Parking is limited but there are a few spaces where you can park without blocking roads used by the Fire Training Center or land-management agencies. To find the beginning of the trail hike up the road as if you were going to the state Fire Training Center. Cross the South Fork of the Snoqualmie River on a bridge. Just after you cross the river on the bridge spot the trail heading east along the river.

Some hikers call this the “bird box trail” and I find this name agreeable despite the unpleasantness of the route on a rainy day. There are actually bird boxes on trees at several points along the trail. Nope, I don’t know who put them there but it’s nice to spot one (that way, you know you are “somewhere” at least).

We found the Bird Box trail by accident (we had planned to visit Dirty Harry’s Balcony) a few years ago. We’d planned to hike to Dirty Harry’s Balcony (further up the road past the state Fire Training Center) but spotted an obvious trail at the bridge. We’d been to the “balcony” before and since the trail near the bridge wasn’t signed we had to find out where it went.

That turned out to be a route-finding romp but the weather was good and my companions were jolly. The crafty path wove between boulders in forest gloom before finally climbing to grassy, bald knolls with views down to I-90, the surrounding foothills and ridges. After gaining 1,300 feet or so the trail came out on an old road with a sign and arrow pointing to Dirty Harry’s Balcony (you can also get to this spur from Dirty Harry’s Road). From there it only took a few minutes to reach the Balcony. After the visit to the Balcony we followed the spur road back to Dirty Harry’s Road and hiked back to the car – that made a nice loop.

Silverback and I attempted to repeat that loop yesterday; we were raring to go despite the rain. After crossing the South Fork of the Snoqualmie I looked for the start of the trail and spotted it immediately (it is on the east side of the bridge).

Off we went in the spirit of optimism despite the rain. The trail is level for a bit as it parallels the river and gradually becomes an old road. The next stretch of the hike is part of a cable line road. Signs prohibit “digging” because of the buried cable but who would want to dig here anyway? After a bit of this and that we paused at an unsigned fork in deep woods interspersed with boulders. You will encounter several forks on this trail system, each one more vague than the one before.

Memory kicked in; I recognized a tugboat-sized boulder pinned to earth by a chain mail of steely roots. While the surrounding forest is dark and gloomy the outcroppings, are graced with the yellow-green sheen of moss that illustrates how long the boulders have been there (a very long time).

Meanwhile, back at the “junction” I couldn’t remember the correct “spur” to continue on the Bird Box Trail. First we tried the east fork; but that was wrong – the east “fork” does lead to another jumble of boulders but that wasn’t where we wanted to go.

We tried the other path; the correct one (this is actually the old road that is marked with buried cable signs). From that junction it was up, up and up. Occasionally we’d spot a bird-box or a cairn to help us find our way though once you are on the correct trail, it’s easy enough to follow.

The buried cable signs disappeared; the trail climbed steeply, through pockets of forest, skirting rocky promontories with what are wonderful views on clear days. Today the views were of fog in shades of white and gray, obscuring the ridgelines across the freeway. From time to time I-90 would partially materialize before disappearing again into the void.

Of course, we were dealing with Harry’s weather; rain, drizzle and fog. Worse, we began to encounter snow. Initially the snow wasn’t a problem though we had to watch our step where the path skirted an outcropping with nothing below but fog. After skirting about the 5th or 6th outcropping (we weren’t counting, we were too busy hiking) we lost the trail in a forested section where snow had covered the ground. We gamely carried on a while because we knew we were close to the road that provides egress to Dirty Harry’s Balcony.

We were ever certain of success when we spotted a wooden arrow pointing the way on a tree but Dirty Harry had a trick or two up his sleeve. He wasn’t going to allow these city slickers into the Balcony today; we spent quite a bit of time looking for the trail, always returning to the arrow so as not to get lost.

Lest you think we are idiots without route-finding skills give us a break; the GPS is broken and our only assistance was my less-than-perfect memory and our ability to follow the trail as the snow continued to erase the tread. It was getting late, we were getting wet and after bungling about on what “might” have been the “trail” we had to admit defeat and start back down the way we’d come (earlier in the day we’d gaily remarked how nice it would be to hike back down on Dirty Harry’s Road rather than the Bird Box trail). Be careful what you say!

Descending the trail was not pleasant; where there wasn’t a thin layer of snow there was mud. Then, of course, add rocky outcroppings looming over a foggy void where a haphazard slip could lead to Certain Unpleasantness. While this descent could hardly qualify as having a good time it went quickly, much more quickly than we’d anticipated. Fantasies of dry clothes and coffee back at the car added inspiration to our somewhat reckless and speedy descent (we managed to descend without slipping, a minor miracle).
We were chilled to the bone by the time we got back to the car; even the best raingear and boots will fail to some extent on such a wet day. Sound miserable? It was; but it was also a lot of fun.

As for the weather we call it hypothermia weather; hence, Hypothermia Hills. So rest guaranteed that just about any place you hike around North Bend on a wet day might put you at for hypothermia – go prepared. Watch out for Dirty Harry’s ghost, allow time to sleuth the way and if you ever do find the connection of the Bird Box trail to the Balcony drop me a note!

Last but not least I’d love to say we’d climbed a couple thousand feet for a 10-mile hike but it appears we’d gained only about 1,300 feet of elevation per my ancient altimeter; and I’ll guess at the mileage. Three to 3-1/2 miles the at most; it felt like more.

Fuller Mountain

NO FOOLING AROUND ON FULLER MOUNTAIN (March 17, 2010)

No kidding, you can get lost here. Ask me how I know that – yes, we came close to getting lost on a previous visit to this cute little peak.

My first visit was on a Mountaineer hike led by the late Archie Wright. That was a day in fall and as we switchbacked toward the summit through a high sea of swirling sword ferns, I wondered how we’d find our way back. Archie, of course, knew the way.

I returned a few years later only to learn the hard way that staying on the trail was easier said than done. We eventually found the bald little summit but lost the trail on our way back. Over time the sea of sword ferns had grown deeper, the trees taller. We stood confused in a Sargasso Sea of ferns, salal, Oregon grape and look-alike second and third-growth forest – there were no distinctive landmarks.

That was on a cold winter day and the hours were moving much faster than we were hiking. Flummoxed, we thrashed around, cursed a bit, briefly panicked and finally found the wisp of a trail, making it back to the car with daylight to spare.

Fast forward to the present – suddenly it seems like everybody is discovering or re-discovering Fuller Mountain though we did find recent trail reports confusing. It seems that most hikers can only describe staying on the trail a little challenging.

Finding the “trailhead” is a challenge in itself unless you familiar with North Bend and the logging road layout. From Seattle drive to North Bend on I-90, follow North Bend Way to Ballarat Avenue, turn left. Ballarat Avenue eventually becomes the North Fork Road (gravel) and jogs uphill (left). We continued on the gravel road about three miles to Spur Gate 10. Spur 10 is a network of logging roads managed by Hancock Forestlands (formerly managed by Weyerhaeuser). We parked at the major road junction, the last place a vehicle can park without a (costly) permit to drive on Hancock’s gated roads.

The hike starts kitty-corner at the road junction at Spur 10; the sign for Ten Mile Creek is gone. Find the creek near the road junction at Spur 10 and you’ll spot the obvious trail. You might hear the creek before you see it. You’ll see two posts where the trail starts, the only indication of trail (the interpretive trail was created by Weyerhaeuser years before these lands were acquired by Hancock Forestlands).

Along the short trail some trees are designated with signs to help visitors recognize the trees that grow here. We noted a “Red Alder”, the biggest red alder I’ve seen in a while. Shortly past “Red Alder” Ten Mile Creek is crossed on what used to be a rickety bridge. The existing bridge is an improvement - a fat log with a rope and chicken wire on slippery wood makes it pretty easy, even for landlubbers like me who don’t relish stream crossings.

Near the bridge we stopped to gaze at ponds created by beaver dams – by golly, this is a pretty place!

The trail crosses an old road before it comes out to a road junction at the edge of a quarry; the end of the old interpretive trail. After you leave the trail turn left for a short distance on the gravel road, then almost immediately turn right onto an older gravel road and look for the trail (left). Previous reports mentioned it was marked by blue flags; we did not find blue flags but the trail is easy to spot if you’re looking.

As for the trail itself it provides more challenges of a different nature; the trail is uneven, rocky and being overtaken by vegetation, lots and lots of sword fern. We enjoyed peek-a-boo views of Klaus Lake below as the trail switchbacked toward the summit. En route there are a few blowdowns; none impassible.

It’s when the trail levels out on the broad summit area that things get perplexing; here, a myriad of trails twists and winds through a jungle of vegetation. Plus, the vegetation is surrounded by look-alike-trees; there are no distinctive landmarks. There are also flags here and there (some with polka dots, some white, some orange) these merely add to the confusion. A GPS would be handy for this hike; ours is broken and needs to be replaced.

It is beyond the skill of this hiker to describe exactly how to find the grassy bald with the view of Mount Si, Fuller Mountain and beyond. You are on your own once the trail gains the undulating summit ridge; we aimed for the sky and followed tread as best we could and by luck more than crook, we found the mossy knoll and settled down, satisfied that we did actually find the “summit” of Fuller Mountain.

There were no views today; Mount Si was barely discernible through the thick layers of clouds but I enjoyed the ambience anyway; the thick layers of intricate mosses that covered the rocky bald were fun to photograph; this is also a summit you’ll likely have to yourself since it is no easy task finding it.

But worth the try!!

The hike is 4 miles round trip with about 600 feet of elevation gain.

Green Mountain Road (North Bend)

December 29, 2009

Gold Creek Pond/Gold Creek, December 28 (Hyak)

Yesterday we drove up to Hyak, parked at the Gold Creek Sno Park and hoofed our way up the Gold Creek Pond. We thought Gold Pond wouldn’t be crowded but we forgot school was out for the holidays so an attitude adjustment was in order.

By the way, the Gold Creek Road is treacherous on foot without Yak Trax or the like – I wore mine but Silverback doesn’t have them yet. He fell a couple of times on the road but sustained no injuries. Maybe it doesn’t matter if you’re a teenager but falling down on an icy road is not such a good idea when you’re in your 60s. With the right vehicle you can drive closer to Gold Pond and park, of course. Don’t forget your Sno Park permit if you go.

Sans snowshoes we hiked up the road to the pond and started out on the loop counterclockwise. When we reached the junction for the Gold Creek trail we added that to our itinerary for the day. That necessitates more walking on the road to reach the actual trailhead, perhaps ¾ of a mile. We turned around in about a half mile where the trail breaks out of the trees at the obvious avalanche slope above the trail (Rampart Ridge loomed above, hidden in the clouds). There didn’t appear to be much snow on the slope but we didn’t want to take a chance; besides, we were aware of trail damage a little further along the trail. Other trail reports indicate blowdowns like giant stacks of pick-up-sticks not too far from where we turned around.

Other than a couple of folks on skis we had that trail to ourselves though there has been snowshoe activity on the trail (no need for snowshoes yesterday). Most folks we encountered at Gold Pond were wearing snowshoes but they were not needed. We bare-booted it the entire way, even on the Gold Creek trail. There is very little snow up there (or anywhere) as of this writing. Rampart Ridge stayed hidden in the clouds with only a bit of it emerging from time to time through the mist.

This was a good winter “shake down” hike for us; we didn’t layer up enough to deal with the cold wind and were chilled most of the time we were out on the trail. We didn’t eat lunch until we got back to the car where a hot thermos of tea awaited us.

We probably hiked 3-4 miles with a couple hundred feet of elevation gain at most.











Other recent hikes, including Green Mountain Road:

This has been an odd month for hiking – short days combined with a tight budget have kept us closer to home and the weather has been odd. Despite these challenges we’ve managed to get in several hikes in the last couple of weeks.

Our “biggest” hike was Mount Si – Silverback’s first visit to that lofty pinnacle. The weather has been so dry that we watched hikers scramble to the summit without difficulty (these, of course, are folks that have scrambling skills). I was tempted to join them as I’ve only climbed the Haystack once (when scrambling skills were fresher than they are today).

We’ve also hiked the Talus Loop (on Mount Si) and taken the “short cut” out to the Tenerife Road and made a nice little loop. We left a car at the school bus turnaround in order to make the loop.

Most of our hikes have been “brown” hikes and admittedly it is hard to get excited about such hikes. We use “brown” hikes as conditioners, to keep us in shape for snowier trails where snowshoes are needed and we can go to more interesting places. Neither one of us like to contend with the icy crud that is on the trails as of this writing.

We also took a peek at the new Kamikaze Falls trail but since it is not officially open I won’t say much about that except to say that the trail will be an excellent trail when it is finished. Having been on the “old” trail a few times, I can honestly say this is an improvement. I don’t know the completion date for this trail but hopefully that will be soon so I can say more about it in this blog.

We’ve also checked out the so-called trail to Green Mountain that branches off from the CCC road. Since schools were closed for the holidays we parked at the “school bus turnaround” on Mount Si without worry of getting towed. From there we hiked up the Mount Si Road, continued on the CCC road until we reached the turn off for the Green Mountain road. If you get to Brawling Creek on the CCC Road, you’ve gone too far. The Green Mountain road is roughly ½ mile or so before Brawling Creek – the old road is marked by a rusty gate on the left-hand side of the CCC road – easy to spot in winter, harder to spot in the summer when vegetation obscures it.

It was a windy, sunny day but once we were on the Green Mountain road we were somewhat protected from the aptly-forecast wind. We hoped for a little bit of snow or ice/frost “compositions” to photograph along the road – alas, this turned out to be another brown hike. Between us we probably took about 20 photographs – there’s not much to photograph here. Still, the road is a good conditioner, it’s quiet, it’s not crowded and if you look closely you’ll find a few artifacts here and there, left from past logging eras. The road is easy to follow with stretches of ankle-twisting loose rock to contend with but otherwise no difficulties were encountered. After crossing what we believe to be Brawling Creek we turned around, having gained about 2,000 feet of elevation to that point.

The views of the Middle Fork peaks I recalled from a previous hike on the road are partially blocked as trees grow taller and vegetation fills in the blank spaces. Though there are partial views to Garfield Peak and other Middle Fork peaks; it’s hard to get a good photograph because of the encroaching vegetation.

There are numerous, tight switchbacks on the road and one cannot help but imagine what it might have been like to come hurtling down the steep road driving a truck with a load of timber. There seem to be few pullouts along the way – that old road must have witnessed some exciting times. Now the road is in the process of becoming more trail-like; it would be interesting to come back in another 10 years or so and see what Time has done to the road.

On our way back the wind picked up, especially along the CCC road and we hurried, keeping one eye on our feet and the other on swaying trees.