For a detailed description of this recent hike refer to hike blog at http://www.karenshikes.blogspot.com/
Friday, March 27, 2009
Monday, March 23, 2009
Kennedy Hot Springs (1995)
Kennedy Hot Springs on Snowshoes (first published in Pack & Paddle, January 1995)
A Troop 70 Adventure
John referred to this overnight to Kennedy Hot Springs** at the end of November as a Troop 70 “Big Boys Outing” (those were the boys who had survived several years of going on outings with John).
Despite the snow John was determined to get to the trailhead. Many snowy miles later, the Happy Car* made it to the Kennedy Hot Springs trailhead. There was probably 8 or 9 inches of snow on the road at that point.
John, three veterans of Troop 70*** (Trevor, Andy and Jeff) and my friend Kathe Stanness and I unfolded ourselves from the jeep and proceeded to hit the trail. We needed snowshoes right from the beginning. We had 5-1/2 miles to go with 1,000 feet elevation gain.
Kathe and I had several months of talk to catch up on so we brought up the rear of the group. The weather was a mixture of sun, clouds, and very light snow showers. We felt like we were walking through a Christmas card.
The ups and downs are gentle – unless it is your first snowshoe overnight of the year. It didn’t take long for our heavy packs to take their toll on our middle-aged bodies. We were surprised to meet a young, long-legged man coming out as we were going in and dismayed to hear that we still had a “goodly” ways to go.
We continued on our “goodly” way. The ups and downs of the trail finally led to a flat and we could see in the distance the bridge that connects Kennedy Hot Springs was close.
There was about a foot of snow on the bridge and one of the planks was missing. The handrail was sturdy, though, so we hung on to that and walked sideways with our snowshoes on. The guard station was locked (I admit to having fantasies of it being open with a roaring fire inside and hot drinks waiting for us).
Kathe and I found John and the Big Boys camped across the bridge. It had taken us an hour longer to reach camp but I was secretly pleased to see that they were also tired from their journey,
Despite the unsanitary conditions I had read and heard about, I was cold and tired and ready to bask in the warmth of the springs, even if it did look like hot chocolate.
Andy was the first to jump in, followed by Trevor. Jeff hesitated, afraid of hypothermia as it was beginning to snow again but he couldn’t resist. Then John jumped in. Then I jumped in.
Bacteria be darned, I thought. When I saw the steam rising off the water I rationalized that probably winter is the safest time to indulge in the springs.
Kathe who does medical and scientific research knew better and stayed out of the unsavory soup but she did dip her hands in a couple of times to warm her fingers.
We stayed in quite a while, putting off the dreaded moment when we would have to emerge from the warm water and stand shivering in our piles of wet clothing.
What finally got us out of the water was the threat of darkness coming on. We had to get our meals and prepare for the long, cold night. I could devote pages to the agony of getting out of the warm water and walking back to the tents in damp clothing and wet boots but I will spare you.
Dinner was good, as always. We had potatoes, beef and gravy, and Trevor brought peach cobber for dessert.
John was still cold so right after dinner we went to our tents. We slept about 12 hours from 7pm to 7am. Kathe said it had been long enough since her last winter camping trip that she forgot some things she knew about winter camping – and so did I. I left my gaiters outside the tent: a frozen disaster the next morning.
There were a couple of light snow showers during the night of the 25th but in the morning things were quiet. We emerged from the tent and faced our morning chores. John prepared his usual omelet (in the winter it is scrambled eggs). It was delicious.
Packing up was the usual cold-fingered misery but somehow it all got done and we were ready to leave by 10am.
We’d gone out about a mile when we came upon the Mountaineers Youth Group, a party of five (three boys and two adults). They had had a long day the day before – they were not able to drive to the trailhead and had to hike an extra 3 miles to reach it.
Since they didn’t start until 1pm they were still on the trail at dark and had to set up camp before reaching Kennedy Hot Springs.
We also met a couple of young men about half-way who wondered if they had enough time to hike to the springs and out again. We advised them to turn back and they did.
Their dog had turned back before they met us and we hoped the dog made it back to the trailhead. They passed us but about a half-mile from the trailhead we met them again – their dog had taken the trail back to the car so they were going back to look for her.
Just when we reached the cars the young men came back out – with their dog. They were lucky!
We enjoyed dinner in Darrington at the Back Woods Café and relived the best parts of our adventure.
Notes: *Happy Car was the name given to the aging Jeep that delivered us to many happy places, at least most of the time. Happy Car had a habit of breaking down or not starting up again at a trailhead.
**Kennedy Hot Springs is completely gone as is the Guard Station, buried under piles of debris from floods and landslides in recent years.
***Troop 70 – The Big Boys have grown up to be fine young men. It is safe to confess 14 years later that John and the Big Boys enjoyed a cigar while they soaked in the hot springs (Kathe and I declined the cigar).
A Troop 70 Adventure
John referred to this overnight to Kennedy Hot Springs** at the end of November as a Troop 70 “Big Boys Outing” (those were the boys who had survived several years of going on outings with John).
Despite the snow John was determined to get to the trailhead. Many snowy miles later, the Happy Car* made it to the Kennedy Hot Springs trailhead. There was probably 8 or 9 inches of snow on the road at that point.
John, three veterans of Troop 70*** (Trevor, Andy and Jeff) and my friend Kathe Stanness and I unfolded ourselves from the jeep and proceeded to hit the trail. We needed snowshoes right from the beginning. We had 5-1/2 miles to go with 1,000 feet elevation gain.
Kathe and I had several months of talk to catch up on so we brought up the rear of the group. The weather was a mixture of sun, clouds, and very light snow showers. We felt like we were walking through a Christmas card.
The ups and downs are gentle – unless it is your first snowshoe overnight of the year. It didn’t take long for our heavy packs to take their toll on our middle-aged bodies. We were surprised to meet a young, long-legged man coming out as we were going in and dismayed to hear that we still had a “goodly” ways to go.
We continued on our “goodly” way. The ups and downs of the trail finally led to a flat and we could see in the distance the bridge that connects Kennedy Hot Springs was close.
There was about a foot of snow on the bridge and one of the planks was missing. The handrail was sturdy, though, so we hung on to that and walked sideways with our snowshoes on. The guard station was locked (I admit to having fantasies of it being open with a roaring fire inside and hot drinks waiting for us).
Kathe and I found John and the Big Boys camped across the bridge. It had taken us an hour longer to reach camp but I was secretly pleased to see that they were also tired from their journey,
Despite the unsanitary conditions I had read and heard about, I was cold and tired and ready to bask in the warmth of the springs, even if it did look like hot chocolate.
Andy was the first to jump in, followed by Trevor. Jeff hesitated, afraid of hypothermia as it was beginning to snow again but he couldn’t resist. Then John jumped in. Then I jumped in.
Bacteria be darned, I thought. When I saw the steam rising off the water I rationalized that probably winter is the safest time to indulge in the springs.
Kathe who does medical and scientific research knew better and stayed out of the unsavory soup but she did dip her hands in a couple of times to warm her fingers.
We stayed in quite a while, putting off the dreaded moment when we would have to emerge from the warm water and stand shivering in our piles of wet clothing.
What finally got us out of the water was the threat of darkness coming on. We had to get our meals and prepare for the long, cold night. I could devote pages to the agony of getting out of the warm water and walking back to the tents in damp clothing and wet boots but I will spare you.
Dinner was good, as always. We had potatoes, beef and gravy, and Trevor brought peach cobber for dessert.
John was still cold so right after dinner we went to our tents. We slept about 12 hours from 7pm to 7am. Kathe said it had been long enough since her last winter camping trip that she forgot some things she knew about winter camping – and so did I. I left my gaiters outside the tent: a frozen disaster the next morning.
There were a couple of light snow showers during the night of the 25th but in the morning things were quiet. We emerged from the tent and faced our morning chores. John prepared his usual omelet (in the winter it is scrambled eggs). It was delicious.
Packing up was the usual cold-fingered misery but somehow it all got done and we were ready to leave by 10am.
We’d gone out about a mile when we came upon the Mountaineers Youth Group, a party of five (three boys and two adults). They had had a long day the day before – they were not able to drive to the trailhead and had to hike an extra 3 miles to reach it.
Since they didn’t start until 1pm they were still on the trail at dark and had to set up camp before reaching Kennedy Hot Springs.
We also met a couple of young men about half-way who wondered if they had enough time to hike to the springs and out again. We advised them to turn back and they did.
Their dog had turned back before they met us and we hoped the dog made it back to the trailhead. They passed us but about a half-mile from the trailhead we met them again – their dog had taken the trail back to the car so they were going back to look for her.
Just when we reached the cars the young men came back out – with their dog. They were lucky!
We enjoyed dinner in Darrington at the Back Woods Café and relived the best parts of our adventure.
Notes: *Happy Car was the name given to the aging Jeep that delivered us to many happy places, at least most of the time. Happy Car had a habit of breaking down or not starting up again at a trailhead.
**Kennedy Hot Springs is completely gone as is the Guard Station, buried under piles of debris from floods and landslides in recent years.
***Troop 70 – The Big Boys have grown up to be fine young men. It is safe to confess 14 years later that John and the Big Boys enjoyed a cigar while they soaked in the hot springs (Kathe and I declined the cigar).
Sunday, March 22, 2009
Photo trip to Clear Creek (Darrington), 3-21-09
As much as I'd like to write this up as a "hike", it really wasn't a hike so for now this seems the best place to put this.
We drove up to Darrington for a presentation put on by the Darrington Historical Society about the bridges there (past and present railway and foot bridges). That was both fascinating and enjoyable. You might want to consider joining the Darrington Historical Society - it's good for them and good for us too as they keep you up to date on events such as yesterdays. Annual dues are $10. Their address: Darrington Historical Society, POB 1130, Darrington, WA 98241.
We allowed plenty of time for photography before and after the presentation. We spent most of our time on the Mountain Loop from Darrington between the Clear Creek Campground and a bit further up the Mountain Loop where Clear Creek meets the Sauk River.
There was still a little snow but the sun was shining, a mixed blessing for photographers. We were so engrossed in our photography that we almost missed the presentation.
Friday, March 20, 2009
Middle Fork Road Closure, March 23 to ?
Just a heads up - the Middle Fork Snoqualmie Road in North Bend will be closed to hikers, mountain bike riders, vehicles - everyone as King County works on the road. The road is and will be closed just beyond the Mailbox Peak trailhead. This closure includes weekends. You can still get to the Mailbox Peak trailhead.
Monday, March 16, 2009
Hiking Blog
I've started a new blog that will focus entirely on hikes, past and present, including updates on hikes previously published by the Seattle Post Intelligencer over the past 13 years. As I return to trails previously described I will update them in this new blog.
Sunday, March 15, 2009
"Soul of the Heights"
This book review was published in the PI a few months ago but due to space constraints they had to cut it down to size (this is normal!).
So here is my piece without the cuts - just thought you might enjoy the read. I know I enjoyed writing it.
Soul of the Heights - 50 years of Going to the Mountains by Ed Cooper (Falcon Guides, 207 pages, $39.95)
Warning: reading this is like falling into a crevasse – it’s going to take time to climb out again. This is not your usual coffee table book– this is a coffee table book with muscle. Even the Foreword by Peter Potterfield and Jim Nelson will stir your soul. Cooper’s mountain images are so sharp that you can almost feel the granite and the crunch of snow under your crampons. I’ve always believed that mountains find us; not the other way around. Thus, anyone who is called to mountains - hiker, climber, photographer, naturalist or reader will find this book hard to put down.
Cooper is considered by many to have been the best North American alpine climber in the 1960s. He is known not only for first ascents but also expertise in photography. Some have climbed with him, including Fred Beckey (though Beckey might contend that Ed Cooper climbed with him).
Climbers are often competitive -- Cooper no exception; “the competition to put up new routes heated up. It was open season on anything by anybody”. In the 1950s-60s climbers vied for first ascents. On a solo climb Cooper wasn’t being paranoid when he thought that Fred might have followed him. Fred and other climbers often mysteriously appeared on the scene as if tuned into a new route by radar.
Coopers descriptions of climbers are evocative. He describes Charlie Bell as a “puzzle to all the climbers who encountered him” and “during a rest stop on one climb, he pulled out a book of Chinese poetry in Chinese and began to read it.” He also climbed with Eric Bjornstad who ran Pizza Haven in the 1960s, a hangout in the University District. Near penniless climbers who dropped in were often the recipients of a pizza made by “mistake”.
Cooper describes how trapped he felt by the necessity of a white-collar job. Jobs were temporary means of making enough money to support the climbing habit - “jobs” were a last resort. Climbing is what mattered and periods of not being in the mountains were merely endured. I recall a climber I knew, who would materialize out of nowhere, showing up with a backpack stuffed with climbing gear, paring his life down to bare essence of what was needed to survive between climbs, including a battery-operated phonograph. After reading Coopers accounts of the free-spirited climbing life you may even redefine your definition of “home”. Is it where you are or what you do?
Despite setbacks this book is about success, not only in climbing but photography. Cooper easily made the transition from large format cameras to the digital age. Hundreds of his black and white negatives from the 1950s-60s were lost but with his digital darkroom he could work with the images he did have from that era, (including prints made earlier from the lost negatives) and restored faded color images as well.
Cooper selected images for this book based on his criteria: “(1) They were historical in nature (2) They represented what I felt were some of my best mountain portraits” (3) They illustrated a point I was trying to make, such as a photographic technique or a physical change in the mountains over time.” Images that didn’t fit into a particular chapter are featured in “Mountain Portrait Portfolios”. The photos hint of the extreme physical effort it took to get to such places as the east face of Bugaboo Spire (the cover photo).
His first ascents include Mount Terror (North Buttress route), the Coleman Glacier Headwall, the Torment-Forbidden Traverse and more. Cooper and Jim Baldwin put in a new route on El Capitan (Dihedral Wall) – still one of the most challenging climbs in Yosemite. The climbs are described so vividly you can almost taste the moss that Cooper and Jim Baldwin sucked for moisture when they ran out of water on a climb of The Chief in British Columbia.
It occurred to Cooper that he might not get killed while climbing so he came up with a Master Plan. The plan was to make a living doing what he loved most namely climbing and photography. The long-term plan was to find a job he could bear, “work for 8 years, make a pile of money, retire, and spend the rest of my life searching out images of nature.” He got a job in a brokerage firm in New York but hated it, especially having to don shirt and tie, his “personal straitjacket”.
His outlook improved when he was transferred to San Francisco - not only were there mountains nearby he also met his future wife. The “straitjacket” came off as soon as he began to earn money from his photography. In 1969 he was commissioned by the Seattle Mountaineers to photograph the Alpine Lakes, a dream job and the beginning of many successes. The Coopers created a stock photographic library and a line of post cards featuring California’s wine country. In 1994 they were able to sell their business and spend time doing things important to them – photography, climbing and for Debby Cooper, establishing herself as a poet.
On photography Cooper cautions, “think about the possible obsolescence factors in what you acquire”. As to climbing Cooper offers simple wisdom: “never, ever take a shortcut unless you are absolutely sure it is safe, and never, ever underestimate a climb and the effect of changing weather on your situation.”
For those of us in vintage years this book may bring back memories not only of dreams that came true or those that didn’t but what it was like to be young in the 1960s, when you’d walk into a coffeehouse and see a scrawled message on a bulletin board reading something like “Boy wants ride to anywhere” and something inside you said “Yes!” Times change, the mountains change, photography techniques change but the siren call to the wilderness is never silent.
The book concludes with a section on Technical Data detailing the camera(s) and techniques Cooper used to create images. The book is temporarily out of stock. The publishing company is in process of a re-print but the high quality images require a specific printer and it may a while until new copies arrive. For more information – http://www.globepequot.com or http://www.amazon.com/
So here is my piece without the cuts - just thought you might enjoy the read. I know I enjoyed writing it.
Soul of the Heights - 50 years of Going to the Mountains by Ed Cooper (Falcon Guides, 207 pages, $39.95)
Warning: reading this is like falling into a crevasse – it’s going to take time to climb out again. This is not your usual coffee table book– this is a coffee table book with muscle. Even the Foreword by Peter Potterfield and Jim Nelson will stir your soul. Cooper’s mountain images are so sharp that you can almost feel the granite and the crunch of snow under your crampons. I’ve always believed that mountains find us; not the other way around. Thus, anyone who is called to mountains - hiker, climber, photographer, naturalist or reader will find this book hard to put down.
Cooper is considered by many to have been the best North American alpine climber in the 1960s. He is known not only for first ascents but also expertise in photography. Some have climbed with him, including Fred Beckey (though Beckey might contend that Ed Cooper climbed with him).
Climbers are often competitive -- Cooper no exception; “the competition to put up new routes heated up. It was open season on anything by anybody”. In the 1950s-60s climbers vied for first ascents. On a solo climb Cooper wasn’t being paranoid when he thought that Fred might have followed him. Fred and other climbers often mysteriously appeared on the scene as if tuned into a new route by radar.
Coopers descriptions of climbers are evocative. He describes Charlie Bell as a “puzzle to all the climbers who encountered him” and “during a rest stop on one climb, he pulled out a book of Chinese poetry in Chinese and began to read it.” He also climbed with Eric Bjornstad who ran Pizza Haven in the 1960s, a hangout in the University District. Near penniless climbers who dropped in were often the recipients of a pizza made by “mistake”.
Cooper describes how trapped he felt by the necessity of a white-collar job. Jobs were temporary means of making enough money to support the climbing habit - “jobs” were a last resort. Climbing is what mattered and periods of not being in the mountains were merely endured. I recall a climber I knew, who would materialize out of nowhere, showing up with a backpack stuffed with climbing gear, paring his life down to bare essence of what was needed to survive between climbs, including a battery-operated phonograph. After reading Coopers accounts of the free-spirited climbing life you may even redefine your definition of “home”. Is it where you are or what you do?
Despite setbacks this book is about success, not only in climbing but photography. Cooper easily made the transition from large format cameras to the digital age. Hundreds of his black and white negatives from the 1950s-60s were lost but with his digital darkroom he could work with the images he did have from that era, (including prints made earlier from the lost negatives) and restored faded color images as well.
Cooper selected images for this book based on his criteria: “(1) They were historical in nature (2) They represented what I felt were some of my best mountain portraits” (3) They illustrated a point I was trying to make, such as a photographic technique or a physical change in the mountains over time.” Images that didn’t fit into a particular chapter are featured in “Mountain Portrait Portfolios”. The photos hint of the extreme physical effort it took to get to such places as the east face of Bugaboo Spire (the cover photo).
His first ascents include Mount Terror (North Buttress route), the Coleman Glacier Headwall, the Torment-Forbidden Traverse and more. Cooper and Jim Baldwin put in a new route on El Capitan (Dihedral Wall) – still one of the most challenging climbs in Yosemite. The climbs are described so vividly you can almost taste the moss that Cooper and Jim Baldwin sucked for moisture when they ran out of water on a climb of The Chief in British Columbia.
It occurred to Cooper that he might not get killed while climbing so he came up with a Master Plan. The plan was to make a living doing what he loved most namely climbing and photography. The long-term plan was to find a job he could bear, “work for 8 years, make a pile of money, retire, and spend the rest of my life searching out images of nature.” He got a job in a brokerage firm in New York but hated it, especially having to don shirt and tie, his “personal straitjacket”.
His outlook improved when he was transferred to San Francisco - not only were there mountains nearby he also met his future wife. The “straitjacket” came off as soon as he began to earn money from his photography. In 1969 he was commissioned by the Seattle Mountaineers to photograph the Alpine Lakes, a dream job and the beginning of many successes. The Coopers created a stock photographic library and a line of post cards featuring California’s wine country. In 1994 they were able to sell their business and spend time doing things important to them – photography, climbing and for Debby Cooper, establishing herself as a poet.
On photography Cooper cautions, “think about the possible obsolescence factors in what you acquire”. As to climbing Cooper offers simple wisdom: “never, ever take a shortcut unless you are absolutely sure it is safe, and never, ever underestimate a climb and the effect of changing weather on your situation.”
For those of us in vintage years this book may bring back memories not only of dreams that came true or those that didn’t but what it was like to be young in the 1960s, when you’d walk into a coffeehouse and see a scrawled message on a bulletin board reading something like “Boy wants ride to anywhere” and something inside you said “Yes!” Times change, the mountains change, photography techniques change but the siren call to the wilderness is never silent.
The book concludes with a section on Technical Data detailing the camera(s) and techniques Cooper used to create images. The book is temporarily out of stock. The publishing company is in process of a re-print but the high quality images require a specific printer and it may a while until new copies arrive. For more information – http://www.globepequot.com or http://www.amazon.com/
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