Outdoor Life

Mount Sawyer

As the weekend rolled around I realized that I need to hike three more peaks in ten days to get to my goal of 50 peaks by 35! This time my husband and Evie came with me to Mount Sawyer. I chose this one because it is relatively easy for carrying up a toddler and I saw from the latest trip reports that lovely wildflowers were blooming.

It was a cool day, one where the fog hung lazily in the valleys and the vegetation on the trail was covered in perfect little drops of water. Evie walked about a quarter mile, investigating the ferns and practicing a new word she learned, “up.” Once she plunked herself down in the middle of the trail, we knew it was time for her to go into the carrier. After a little coaxing with a snack, she settled in for the ride.

The trail gently follows Tonga Ridge through hemlock with occasional openings to the south revealing Mount Hinman and Mount Daniel, both capped in snowfields. Fireweed lined the trail along with large red paintbrush, the occasional tiger lily. The farther we walked, the more diverse the species got. I spotted some white pine and fir trees and it seemed like each clearing revealed different flowers: purple penstemon and aster, sitka valerian.

After a couple miles we reached the turn off for Mount Sawyer. The trail climbs steeply up on eroding tread before returning to a more gradual incline. It was not too long until we were above treeline with sweeping views of the valley. The flowers gave way to a hillside full of blueberries. They were not quite ripe yet, but I managed to find a handful of good ones. I snacked on a few and carried the rest to the top to share with my husband and Evie.

The trail takes a long sweep along the backside before the last push to the summit. From there, you could see the views to the north along with a distinct layer of hazy smoke from wildfires. We just made out Glacier Peak in an orange hazy glow and Sloan Peak along its side.

There are lots of little spur trails on the summit and I wandered around to find different perspectives. We lingered for a while as Evie explored and climbed on rocks and ate her usual peanut butter and jelly sandwich. When we had enough, we packed up and headed back down the mountain through the flowers again.

Outdoor Life

Mount Catherine

I was not excited about this one. I decided to go at the last minute and wasn’t mentally prepared. I needed to find a peak for 50 by 35 with a short trail that I could take Evie on. This one seemed doable, but the guide book gave it a rating of 2 out of 5 stars. I mean really? I figure any hike that gets you to the top of a mountain with some decent views should get at least 3 stars. Anyway, then I also read that the road to the trailhead was rough and some people were parking along the road adding an extra 2 miles to the round trip. Lastly, I found that there was a steep section at the top that required a little scramble with a cable rope. This normally would not be an issue, but could I do it by myself with Evie on my back?

I decided to try it anyway. I could always turn around if I got uncomfortable. I packed up Evie and tried to figure out what I forgot while I drive to the trailhead. I tripled checked that I had my hiking boots since just a few weeks ago I forgot them (yep, I was that lady hiking in flip flops with a baby on my back, oops) and realized that I forgot my hiking poles that I like to use with Evie. Oh well, could be worse.

 

When I got to the rough part of the road I got out to take a look. It seemed not too bad and I was driving our high clearance wagon, but when I’m by myself with Evie, I tend to get extra cautious. I sat and waited assuming someone would be coming up behind me soon. Sure enough a big Suburban came by. The driver, a seasoned mom with a gaggle of kids in the back got out to look. She decided it was no problem for her and asked me if I wanted a ride. I said no thanks and watched her go on with little hesitation, admiring her confidence. I sat and waited a little longer. Sure, we could have just walked from there, but I really didn’t want to do the extra road walk, especially in the heat of summer. Then I just started up the car and went for it. And was completely fine.

 

The short trail heads up from the beginning. It wasn’t terribly difficult, but Evie is getting terribly heavy. I had put her sun shade on and she was grabbing it, pulling it down onto my head. Whatever, I thought, at least it’s a short trail. When she started screaming and pulling my hair, I stopped and put her down. I realized she had dropped her prized fox lovey. I was debating between going back to find it or to just continue and find it on the way back down, when a kind man found it and brought it up to us. Crisis adverted, but just for a few switchbacks until she started screaming again. I put her down, tried to feed her everything in my bag, checked her diaper, offered water, did all the things and nothing worked. I just sat there thinking about what to do when she calmed down a little bit and started walking up the trail. Of course, why didn’t I think of it before? She just wanted to walk on her own.

She walked up the switchbacks like a champ. We even passed some nice folks who were taking a break and they were impressed. She walked much longer than I expected, and as we neared the top, I knew I would have to get her back in the pack for the last scramble. Getting her into the pack was as difficult as I thought it would be and I apologized to other hikers for all the screaming. But finally she settled and I carried her up to the cable rope. It was a very short section and like earlier in the car, I just went for it without thinking about it too much. As I took the last few steps up, the group we saw earlier were there cheering us on. I looked back and wondered how the heck I was going to get back down, but for now I just needed to find a shady spot that wasn’t too close to the edge. When I put Evie down I realized I was shaking.

 

We took in the views of Mt Rainier, Snoqualmie Pass, and the surrounding peaks. Butterflies fluttered by without a care in the world. While Evie ate her PB&J, I discovered the summit register in a box under the tree that was shading us. I made our climb official and carefully tucked the register back in the box. It was nice, but I was eager to get down. I struck up a conversation with a nice couple who had a 4-year-old at home. They gave me some tips and I asked if I could go with them down the initial scramble. They found an easier way for me to get down and followed behind me to make sure I got down ok. When they headed off ahead of me they told me if I needed anything to just holler down the trail. This small act of kindness made my heart sing.

 

I sang to Evie on the descent and she quickly fell asleep. At the trailhead I gingerly scooped her up out of the carrier. Her head rested on my shoulder and I hugged her in tight for a minute before lowering her down into the carseat still asleep. This had never happened before, she always wakes up when I pick her up. But every day now she is changing and growing. No longer satisfied with the constraints of the backpack, she is becoming independent and strong-willed. My baby is now a toddler.

Outdoor Life

Boardman Lake

Early summer is for alpine lakes in my book. We took advantage of a promising forecast and packed Evie up to Boardman Lake on the Mountain Loop Highway. The long, bumpy drive makes for a solitary and short hike to the lake. We pulled into the empty trailhead and let Evie lead the way, fox lovey in hand.

I optimistically thought that maybe our budding little hiker would walk the whole 1 mile to the lake, but as it turns out, a mile is a LONG way. Especially for such tiny legs with the brain of a squirrel. Her little mind was like a sponge and she wanted to investigate every plant and rock along the trail. I was, however, so proud that she made it up the root-filled trail all the way to Lake Evans, the first stop along the trail, about a quarter mile in.

Lake Evans is more of a pond than a lake, and Nali promptly jumped into it with a splash. Evie, eager to follow suit, marched right up to the water’s edge. We had to hold her back and tried to distract her by pointing out a small frog hopping around. This seemed like a slam dunk of a distraction to me, but she was completely unimpressed and continued to insist on walking right on into the water.

We managed to guide her away from the lake and back to the trail. She walked a bit longer up over rocks and roots, holding my hand. When she sat down in the middle of the trail we took it as a cue to put her in the pack. She didn’t resist.

It wasn’t far to the lake and we headed clockwise around it and across a log jam to find a place for lunch. We found a nice little beach and had some snacks.

Nali stomped around the shallows of the water despite the icebergs still floating on the surface. Evie, always eager to play in the water, watched enviously from the shore.

For a short little hike, it was quite a pleasant one. We had the place to ourselves and there was a yellow glow to the lake from some pollen or algae that gave it a pretty and surreal feel. It felt good to be out and even a tiny bit adventurous.

Outdoor Life

Independence & North Lakes

Most people say that Memorial Day is the unofficial start of summer. In the Pacific Northwest, it’s actually the 4th of July. While many find the cloudy and rainy month of “June-uary” to be frustrating and depressing, I secretly adore it. The mornings are foggy and cool and the afternoons sunny and warm. The mountains are just beginning to melt out and the crowds are still somewhat small. You can start a hike off in a fleece and end it with a tan. It’s really the best.

Thinking about this reminds me of a hike we did a long time ago to North and Independence Lakes. It was so wonderfully foggy as we climbed through the towering Douglas Fir to Independence Lake. We skirted the lake and emerged into a flat grassy field at the far end of the lake. A few tents and families appeared out of nowhere and being the first people we’d seen on the trail, I wondered if they were ghosts.

From here the trail switchbacked up into the unknown before topping out and descending into a basin. We couldn’t see how far we were going down and in places snow obscured the trail. I truly felt like we were on an epic adventure. Small tarns reflected lonely trees like a painting and I half expected to meet a fairy or gnome.

As we neared the larger North Lake with its turquoise water, we stumbled upon a solo camper fishing along the shoreline. We gave him space and found a spot along the shore to sit and eat lunch. Nali splashed in the water (and probably scared all the fish away) and I spotted a little black ball on the far side of the lake- a black bear. I pointed it out to my husband and I watched it for a long time, a little black ant against the green meadow, probably searching for roots to eat.

We made our way back through the magical tarns and early marigold blooms, still in the fog. We didn’t get to see any sweeping views, but I’m sure the ones in my head were even better than the real thing. Sometimes, a little mystery, a little fog and obscured views are more exciting than the blue bird days. So says the woman from the Pacific Northwest.

 

Happy Summer!

Outdoor Life

We Hike To Heal

We watched them take off, one by one. Air filled the thin sheets of fabric transforming them into birds. A group of mostly strangers, we collectively held our breath as the paragliders ran off the side of the mountain, into the unknown.

It was March 30th, and women all over the world were taking to the trails for the 2018 #wehiketoheal empowerment and wellness campaign. Our local WA grassroots branch of the Outdoor Women’s Alliance held a group hike to Poo Poo Point, a popular paragliding location near Seattle, to participate in the movement. I think it’s safe to say that it was a powerful, moving, and ultimately healing event for our little group. It’s wonderful to know that we shared this experience with so many others at the same time. I soaked up inspiration from these women and had so many great takeaways. Here are a few.

Give Yourself Permission

We started the hike by setting an intention. We literally wrote permission slips to ourselves allowing us to enjoy our hike with no judgement of ourselves, to be at peace, to breathe, and to be in the moment. The words in my head along with the stress of week gathered on the page and stayed there. I put it all in my pocket, and out of my head, for the day.

 

Sometimes You Just Have to Jump

While we watched the paragliders run down a small strip of turf that disappeared into the sky, I noticed how they ran without hesitation, without turning back. I imagine they don’t think about what they are doing too much as they run. Just commit and go. One foot after the other. We discovered in our group discussion that we often find more success in accomplishing goals this way. There is something about just going for it and not having a plan with expectations, that is freeing. One woman in our group lost nearly 100 pounds by simply deciding to go for a hike to Wallace Falls one day. She let go of the voices in her head telling her she couldn’t do it and she just went for it, one step at a time. Once she proved to herself that she could do it, she was unstoppable. After just a few years of being on this journey, she has hiked all over and is now training to climb Mount Rainier. We are capable of so much more than we know.

Embrace Your Vulnerability

I wasn’t surprised that Brene Brown came up a lot during our hike and discussion. And for good reason. We reminded ourselves that its okay to be vulnerable. Its okay to ask for help. It’s okay to let go of perfection. We reminded ourselves to watch our self talk. Would you talk to your best friend the way you talk to yourself? Keep it in perspective. All things that Brene Brown tells us, all things we should tell ourselves everyday.

 

The Outdoors is the Great Equalizer

The cedars don’t care if you’re pretty or skinny. The granite doesn’t care about your political or religious views. The lupine don’t want to hear about your job and accomplishments. The sky doesn’t care about the color of your skin. In the outdoors, we are all equal. This is why the outdoors is so healing. It is elemental to our being. In the outdoors we are free of everyday distractions, phones, media. We can simply be.

Healing is a Journey

Our hike leader, Bethany, is a self-described Loss Momma. She lost her daughter on the day she was born to a terminal condition. She is passionate about the outdoors and finds healing in the forests and mountains. I admire the crap out of her and her ability to share her story so generously and openly, simply so that others may know that they are not alone. Remember that everyone you see on the trails, everyone in the perfect Instagram photos, every woman on the cover of a magazine, has their struggles. We all have struggles. You are not alone.

Learn more about Bethany and her journey of healing on her blog All The Passion Strings. She also runs a Facebook group called Hiking to Heal.

 

Nature, Love, Medicine: Essays on Wildness and Wellness

This compilation of essays written by an intriguing group of writers, artists and scientists, pulls together insightful thoughts and theories on the healing powers of nature. Robin Wall Kimmerer, a botanist with Native American heritage, writes about the literal healing properties of medicinal plants while Lauret Savoy writes about going to the mountains to escape the racism of the city. Some speak of spending time in the outdoors as a means of physical healing, others speak to ways that we can return the favor and heal the Earth. All of the essays speak to a deeper sense of being and belonging in the natural world.

Outdoor Life

2018: The Year of Women

Today, I witnessed something on the trails I have never witnessed before. The women outnumbered the men. By a lot. The first woman I encountered was even breastfeeding her baby while descending the trail (something I admire since I’ve never had the coordination to even try). There were other women carrying their children, young women giggling and snapping selfies of each other, others going solo with a dog or trail running. The women freakin’ dominated that trail!

When I started this blog back in 2014 I was looking for inspiration. I mostly hiked solo and I was looking for community and to hear other women’s experiences and stories. They were hard to find. I discovered the Outdoor Women’s Alliance and She Explores, but back then they didn’t have nearly the following and diverse content they do now. Those were the years when I rarely saw other women hiking alone. When I hiked to the top of Sourdough Mountain I was met by a man who asked if I really hiked all the way up there all on my own. When I led an all women’s backpack trip we were literally asked, “where are all the men?”

We’ve come a long way since then. Women are no longer tolerating the sexism and sexual harassment that have muddied the waters, not just in the outdoors, but sadly in many aspects of our lives. Women are speaking up with social media campaigns like #metoo and Time’s Up (omg, Oprah’s speech, right?). Outdoor brands are getting called out for their sexist advertising and their failure to understand women’s bodies with “pink it and shrink it.” And instead of sitting around and waiting for the industry to change, women have stepped up to build their own outdoor brands.

Is there still work to do? Yes, of course. Couldn’t you say 2017 was the year of women? Sure. But the difference is now it is becoming normal. I expect to see women of all types on the trails, I expect to see women represented in outdoor media. I didn’t bat an eye at that woman breastfeeding her baby via ergo. This is the outdoor world I want to see represented and this is what I want to be my daughter’s normal.

Outdoor Life

Fall Harvest

One thing I didn’t anticipate after having a baby is just how homesick I would be. Fall has a way of making me especially conscious of this. I crave homemade meals, the scent of decaying leaves, cobalt blue skies, and football games. But most of all, I crave family.

I miss getting together with aunts and uncles and cousins, eating delicious food and laughing until I almost pee my pants. I miss inevitably listening to the stories I’ve heard a million times, as familiar and exciting as a favorite song coming on the radio. There is an ease and comfort that wraps me up like a warm blanket and fills me up like chicken pot pie.


Since my husband and I moved to Seattle over a decade ago, we’ve grown our own little family. First with a dog, then a baby, but mostly with our friends. I do feel a deep connection to the Northwest and over the years our friendships have grown into family. I am eternally grateful for this and feel very lucky.


Here in the PNW, I feel my short thin roots reaching down and spreading but they are still searching for nourishment, grasping to take hold. Back on the east coast, I stand firm. My thick healthy roots spread far and deep. I need to nourish my Northwest roots. And so, with the help of a good friend, I did just that.


When my pal Laura offered to share her elderberry picking spots with me, I jumped at the chance. We headed east to Leavenworth in the late September smoky haze. Laura showed me where she went to camp growing up and where she and her dad would look for elderberries. We found some in her usual spots and then saw a jackpot of a bush along the road in someone’s property. The owners were outside and gave us their blessing to go pick all we wanted. We got bags and bags full.


I knew that the blue elderberries are poisonous to eat when raw, so I asked Laura what to do with them. She explained to boil them and put them through a sieve to get the juice. She gave me a tip that proved invaluable- freeze the berries on the the stems before you pick them all off. It worked brilliantly. She also gave me her dad’s recipe for elderberry jam and it is so delicious.


Sure, I could’ve researched online where and how to pick elderberries, but it is so much more enjoyable to get this information passed on from friends and family. These are the things that make roots grow. I kept telling Laura all day, I totally feel like a local now!


In October, Laura invited me to Vashon Island to pick apples and make cider with her husband’s extended family. They have deep roots on the island and I got to listen to the catching up, the familiar stories, and eat the delicious food.


No one here will ever replace my own family of course, but I so appreciate getting just some of that comfort and warmth I’ve been craving. And the harvest; the jam and cider, tastes that much better.

 

The Fish Ladder by Katharine Norbury
Norbury, who was adopted after being left as an infant at a convent, takes her daughter, Evie, along the banks of Welsh rivers to trace them to their source. Not knowing where her true roots lie, she seeks peace and familiarity, ultimately searching for a beginning and a sense of belonging. This book, filled with gorgeous descriptions, unpronounceably delightful Welsh locations, history, and fairy tales, quickly became a favorite of mine. It is truly the most beautiful book I’ve read in awhile.

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Outdoor Life

Evie’s First Summit: Redux

I’ve never been drawn to Mount Rainier like I’m drawn to the North Cascades. I never really knew why, but I think I finally figured it out. I’ve never been there in late summer or fall, my favorite time of year. Turns out, like the North Cascades, Mount Rainier also has many of my favorite things this time of year.

Tolmie Peak Lookout has been on my list to tackle for a while now and I thought it would be a good hike to take Evie on. This time I was right. By now I’ve figured out that all Evie’s problems can simply be solved with a second breakfast. So we fueled up at the trailhead with a mid morning meal and happily set off on the trail.

The way starts out along Mowich Lake with peekaboo views of Mount Rainier. Evie babbled enthusiastically as we stopped to feel the texture of a fern, cedar, and some huckleberry bushes. I spotted a doe through the trees and pointed and whispered look to Evie.

It was quiet. The air was cool, even with the sun shining. The bugs that would have clouded the trail just weeks before have gone into hiding. Baby pink spirea dotted the trail as we reached Eunice Lake. Here we took a nice long break for a snack and a diaper change and chatted with other hikers.

After leaving the lake it was slow going as we stopped frequently for blueberry snacks. I mushed some up with my fingers and fed them to Evie, her first taste of wild mountain blueberries. She squealed with joy and I gave her more. Purple juice dripped down her chin.

I found some blue gentian, my most favorite wildflower, in the meadows by the lake and got down close to show Evie the royal spotted blue. As we climbed the switchbacks toward the lookout I showed her another favorite, fireweed, as the views of Mount Rainier and Lake Eunice became more and more stunning. For the first time in a long time I couldn’t stop taking photos. It was nice to be in a new place with some old favorites.

I have to admit I also enjoyed the accolades I got while hauling my infant to the top of the mountain. I was called brave, strong, impressive. One guy told me he thought he was badass until he saw me carrying up my baby. Another told me I deserve a medal. While I don’t necessarily agree (the mileage, elevation gain, and weight are not all that significant), and I think dad’s deserve the same credit, it did make me feel really good.

I took Evie up onto the deck around the lookout and sat for some lunch with one of the most spectacular views in  Mount Rainier National Park. I thought about my first summit hike to Mount Pilchuck and how it was much more like this hike than my hike with Evie to Pilchuck. It felt so fresh and new.

As a parent there are so many things I think I’m in control of, but I know that it is not the case. I wanted so badly for Evie’s first summit to be the same as my own, and for her special places to be the same as mine. But ultimately she will have her own favorite things and places. Maybe her special place will be Mount Rainier. I mean, technically, this is her first true summit hike since we didn’t go up to the lookout on Pilchuck. So which do I tell her was first? Maybe when she is older I will let her decide.

 

Up by Patricia Ellis Herr

When Herr discovers that her five year old daughter, Alex, enjoys hiking and has the energy to take on big mountains, they decide to climb all forty-eight of New Hampshire’s tallest mountains (dubbed the four thousand footers). Each chapter of the book highlights a lesson learned like: Some Things Will Always Be Beyond Your Control, Some Risks Are Worth Taking, and Enjoy The Journey While It Lasts. This story warmed my heart and gave me inspiration to bring Evie along for all my journeys and learn some lessons on the trail.

 

 

 

 

 

More about the Tolmie Peak Lookout trail

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Outdoor Life

Evie’s First Summit

Let’s just get something out of the way: I do not recommend carrying your infant up Mount Pilchuck. I’ve been on this trail many times before my baby-toting days and in my delirious, sleep-depraved state, I thought it would be a nice hike to take Evie on. It was the first summit for my husband and I when we moved to Seattle, and I wanted it to be her first, too. Well, that’s nice and all, but I failed to recall that the entire trail is constructed of rocks measuring the perfect size to break every bone in your leg from the knee down. I did remember the ladder to the lookout and thought I could handle that no problem, but I completely forgot that you have to scramble up many large boulders to get to it. Ugh.

The hike started off well with Evie in her new position facing forward in the ergo. This is accompanied by screams of joy and excitement at trees? Flowers? Fellow hikers? It’s hard to tell… The forecast called for partly sunny skies and as I drove to the trailhead it was clear that we would be in the clouds on the mountain. While this may bother most people, it made me really excited. I love climbing through the mist and getting above the clouds. There is a sense of mystery. You don’t know if you’ll get views or not and it is so exciting when a cloud disappears to reveal some nearby jagged peak only to cloud up again leaving you watching intently for the next clearing. Its nature’s version of peek-a-boo.

I was just starting to wonder how the heck I didn’t remember any of this ridiculous steep and rocky trail when Evie began to fuss. She was tired and I think my jostling her around to climb up rocks was not the kind of rocking she needed to fall asleep. I stopped and turned her around in the ergo to make it easier for her to nap which did the exact opposite and made her full on cry. I’ve taken Evie on a number of hikes in her short little life but she has never cried like this on the trail. There is something very jarring and unnatural about hearing a baby cry in the otherwise silent and peaceful wilderness. I was pretty sure her sad little wails were being heard in a multitude of valleys below. I had to make her stop.

So I stopped and nursed her and it helped a little, but she was still tired. I continued on, tiptoeing up the rocks and singing twinkle twinkle little star one word at a time in between breaths. I made it a little farther and then she started to cry again. I apologized profusely to my fellow hikers and tried going faster. I eventually gave in though and plopped down right next to the trail to nurse again. The bugs, an annoying mixture of mosquitoes and black flies, descended on us en masse. At first I tried to be all zen mom and not let the bugs bother me and just concentrate on keeping Evie from getting bitten. That lasted all of 5 seconds before I covered her up with my flannel shirt and used her little polka dot jacket to whip around my head like I was in a rodeo. Yeehaw.

People didn’t seem to care because they just mindlessly trudged on by murmuring things like, “I hate nature”, “yuck, I just ate another bug”, and “why did we come up here again?” At least Evie and I weren’t alone in our misery.

I couldn’t take the bugs anymore so I got Evie back in the ergo as quickly as possible and climbed on. We were getting close to the top and the clouds were starting to give a little. As I got to the last scramble Evie was finally asleep. I considered scrambling up the rocks for a minute, determined to get her to the lookout, then decided that I would be doing it more for me than her. Instead, I sat gently on a large boulder as not to disturb her and carefully and quickly ate my lunch.

On the way down the high clouds began to burn off revealing a marine layer below. We were above the clouds now, just as I had hoped for. Evie slept most of the way as I again cursed every rock and boulder on the trail. When she woke up she looked up at me intensely for a long time. I melted and smiled at her thinking maybe she was appreciating that I just carried her up to the top of a boulder infested mountain. It was a sweet moment. Then she began to cry.

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Mt Pilchuck

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