Outdoor Life

A Lookout, Rocks, and Pumpkins

These are a few of my favorite things…

What is not my favorite thing? Being in the car with my almost two-year-old for any extended amount of time. But the crying, the screaming, the throwing things (mostly her, maybe a little bit me), was all worth it in the end. I was excited about this one. A super short little trail zigs up a for hot minute to Red Top Lookout and some spectacular Teanaway scenery. I had high hopes that Evie might even walk herself all the way to the top. She didn’t, but she walked about halfway up the steep trail and I was super proud when she said “backpack, backpack” for the first time, as in, “put me in the backpack and give me a snack now before I have a meltdown.” We put her in the pack, gave her a snack, and she was happy.

First built in 1952, Red Top lookout stands watch at roughly 5400 feet. It was restored in 1997 and is kept up by wonderful volunteers, making it one of the best kept lookouts I’ve been to. Some volunteers were there for the weekend and opened it up for us to peek inside. The two young men, swimming in their green Forest Service vests, described themselves as “lookout junkies.” A fuzzy blond dog was curled up on the cot as we swapped lookout stories.

After taking in the views of Mount Stuart, Rainier, and evens Adams, we continued on to go rock hunting. I thought this was the appropriate description until we reached the agate beds complete with a sign board listing rules and tips. It is actually called “rock hounding” according to the board. I was so excited, especially now that I knew what it actually called! I already felt like a pro. The instructions asked rock hounds to refill any digging holes and recommended using the “15 minute rule” to prevent harvesting too many rocks to carry back with you. It suggests holding the rock in your hand for 15 minutes and then looking at it again. If you love it, keep it. If you’re not sure carry it another 15 minutes. It then reads, “by this point, you should be pretty sure this is a rock you want to keep. If not, toss it back.” I love this rule.

Some folks passed us carrying shovels, grates, and hammers. “Going rock hunting?” I asked. Rookie mistake, surely true rock hounds don’t call it “rock hunting.” They entertained my question with a vague answer and I mentioned we were looking ourselves, we just don’t know what we’re looking for. My husband and I exchanged a glance with an awkward chuckle, hoping they would offer us a little advice. They didn’t. We made note of their gear to bring next time.

We picked around in the rocks looking for anything unusual or shiny. We were banking on beginners luck and Evie is really good at picking rocks. She picked them up and shoved them in my face saying, “ock, ock” until I looked at her and gave her my full attention, saying, “oh yes, that’s a nice rock.” Then she would point to more rocks and say, “nice ock.” Unfortunately, she didn’t find anything unusual or shiny.

We found a big hole that was already dug and decided that the mother load was once found there. We sat down and settled in, Evie between my legs babbling and picking away. We dug for awhile and were getting ready to move along when my husband found something interesting. I remembered reading something in the guide book about rare Ellensburg blue agate and thunder eggs being found here. We remembered that the sign board gave a hint: crystals are shiny and agates are translucent. This little nugget was blue and translucent. NO WAY! I yelled and then promptly dug in the same spot for more. We found a few more translucent white agates. They were tiny and mottled in muddy clay. I had to spit on them to see any color, but I was over the moon. We found something, maybe even some rare blue agate! We were officially rock hounds!

I could have stayed there looking all day and I think Evie could have too. But the blue skies had been slowly clouding up, the wind cooling with a fall crisp. We headed back to the car with our loot, just a pocket full or two of rocks. Later that night at home, I rinsed the rocks in the kitchen sink. The smell of earth released from the rocks overwhelmed my senses, I felt like I could taste it. Then in the shower, the same smell came from my hands. I breathed it in, the mountain colliding with my home, everything connected. I felt whole.

We took the long way home from Red Top. As Evie slept, we took a side road to explore the old ghost town of Liberty. We drove through the farm fields and small towns of the Cascade foothills. We found a pumpkin patch just after Evie woke from her nap.

We let Evie roam free in the pumpkin field as we each chose our favorites. My husband chose a large one, perfect for a classic moonshine face, I chose a smaller pastel orange one reminiscent of Cinderella’s carriage and we chose a little green one for Evie, one she pointed at a few times and we took as a the chosen one. However, we soon realized that she pointed at ALL of the pumpkins.

It wasn’t a perfect day. I’m fully convinced that any day with a toddler could never be bestowed with such a word. But it was a great day and an undeniably fall one. The very best kind: one full of my favorite things and my favorite people.

 

Book Club

Reading the Clouds

September is the best month for clouds. Little puffs of white invade the cotton candy blue skies of the hot, dry Pacific Northwest summer. Fish bones of ice striate the upper reaches of the atmosphere. Mid-level altostratus greet us at sunrise and bid us good day at sunset as they stretch into the horizon gathering reds, pinks, and oranges. And, most wonderfully, the good ole plain stratus returns. Yes, I do mean that non-descript marine layer that blocks out the sun and covers the earth in what some people may describe as smothering and depressing and what I call a nice, cozy autumn blanket. It’s even better when it extends itself all the way to the ground and becomes my favorite of all, fog. This is when I’m no longer just admiring the clouds, but am literally in the cloud. How does everyone not think this is the coolest thing ever?

I think Maria Mudd Ruth, the author of A Sideways Look at Clouds, would agree with me. In my favorite part of the book, she describes swimming in a lake early one September morning. Fog covered the lake and she bravely swam into it, attaching a string to the shore so she could follow it back. Just thinking of this scene makes me feel still and peaceful. I don’t think we are only ones with a heart for the foggy. Maria goes on to point out that there are a myriad of descriptors of fog (she writes about them in a blog post, 51 Names for Fog) proving to me that if people say they don’t outright enjoy the fog and its many forms, they at least respect it and maybe, on some deep down level, they enjoy it just a tiny bit.

On still, cool nights I sense that our tired, end-of-summer earth is sighing. In the morning there is the beautiful blanket of fog it has exhaled.

This mutual love for fog and clouds is what found me and the Alpine Trails Book Club sitting fireside in a historic forest service building listening to Maria read an excerpt from her book. I watched a tree sway in the rain-spotted window as the wind howled and the warmth of the fire brought feeling back to my fingers. Maria graciously agreed to come out and hike with us on what would have ideally been a gorgeous day of cumulus cloud spotting and admiring Mount Baker and the surrounding peaks. Instead, our group circled up at the trailhead (we were the only ones there) bouncing and swishing in our rainbow colored rain jackets and rain pants to keep warm. We hugged each other and introduced ourselves to our first ever guest author. Maria later told me she was convinced that she and I would be the only ones who showed up that day. I explained to her how hardcore and amazing our group is. Their wonderful smiling faces didn’t even flinch at that nimbostratus.

So we marched straight into the clouds surrounding Bagley Lakes. Maria fed us interesting bits of cloud knowledge as we fed ourselves with the surrounding ripe blueberries (of course). I corralled everyone onto a little stone bridge and did a little happy dance as I took the best photo of our group. I remembered that there was a ranger station near the trail and wondered if we could get to it to seek some shelter from the cold wind and rain. We climbed up stone steps attached to a smooth ancient lava rock to the old building and sure enough, there was a little covered porch area overlooking the lakes. We shed our wet coats and got out our mugs and even some china. Laura brought some hot chai to go with the pumpkin-flavored cloud-shaped cookies I made to share. Maria topped off our little tea party with some donut holes she used to demonstrate the origin of the word “cloud” derived from the word “clod” meaning “rock” or “lump”.

As we chatted on the porch with Maria about how her cloud book came to be, we smelled smoke. It lured us inside the building where we were greeted with what I can only describe as book club magic. Benches surrounded a raging hot fire and the place was empty save a few lovely lady volunteers. They explained to us that one of them had just cleaned out the old fireplace and thought this was the perfect day to try it out with a fire. I asked if they minded if we stayed and hung out for awhile in this bit of serendipitous perfection. They agreed, happy for the distraction on what would normally be a long, lonely day. Maria appropriately read a passage from her book about how rain forms and we peppered her with questions as we thawed our fingers and toes. Then she anointed as all pluviophiles, lovers of clouds.

I could have stayed there in that cozy room forever, but alas, we mustered up the courage to return to the outside and continue on the loop trail. The rain had slowed but the stratus clung to the mountains even more than it had earlier. But once in a while it would clear ahead of us just enough to give us the tiniest bit of a view of the surrounding mountains. It once even cleared enough for us to spot fresh snow on nearby Mount Shuksan.

I need to look where I was going, but I also need to stop and look up to appreciate the miracles of the sky, to experience the joy of the clouds, and to learn something new about them every day.

Maria’s book makes the science of the clouds interesting and approachable. She has such enthusiasm that exudes from every word on the page, it is contagious! After reading this book I vowed to pay more attention to the clouds. I have a new-found appreciation for these ethereal things of everyday life. I’ve started taking more pictures of clouds and I picked up some of the books Maria mentions in her book like The Cloudspotter’s Guide and The Met Office Pocket Cloud Book to learn even more. I find that this brings me immense joy and is just another way to enjoy and appreciate nature.

 

Although there was a mile or so of atmosphere between us, I felt a special kinship with these clouds at the lake. There was so little difference between us. Here we were, fluid bodies floating. Here were the clouds, aloft, reflected. Here I was, afloat, reflecting. I had found my way in.

You can learn more about Maria on her website. She is working on a new book (that can’t come soon enough!) and she wrote a lovely blog post about our outing, Book Club in the Clouds.

 

 

A Sideways Look At Clouds by Maria Mudd Ruth

Book Ends

Book Club

Blueberries For Days

Remember summer? That long stretch of time when we had no rain, wildfires galore, and a nasty haze over Seattle? It’s hard to imagine now that we’ve settled into the rainy days of winter. At the time though, it made all the sense to read The Big Burn for our September Book Club meetup.

Laura chose to hike to Park Butte Lookout, once a functional fire lookout above a broad glacial valley with killer views of Mount Baker. The lookout was built in 1932 and volunteers from the Skagit Alpine Club work to keep it beautifully maintained.

There was a chill in the air when we met at the trailhead. I bundled Evie up like a polar bear in her fuzzy white jacket and strapped her into the carrier. We set off toward Schrieber’s Meadow. This meadow is somewhat famous for its prolific blueberry supply. Since the summer was so hot, we weren’t expecting many good blueberries, especially in late September. However, we found a decent amount and happily snacked on them as we chatted about the book.

The Big Burn recounts the story of the 1910 wildfire that burned 3 million acres in Washington, Idaho, and Montana in just two days. Eighty-five people died as result of the fires, the vast majority of them firefighters. Edward Pulaski, a name that may be familiar if you’ve ever volunteered for trailwork, was a fire crew leader fighting the wildfires near Wallace, Idaho. When his crew was surrounded by fire blocking their attempts to retreat, he led them through to an abandoned placer mine where they barely survived the night.

The fire had a broad effect on the function of the Forest Service and how they manage the land. Egan dives deep into the politics and the fascinating friendship between President Teddy Roosevelt and his Chief Forester, Gifford Pinchot. We all agreed that The Big Burn is a classic and a must read for any PNW outdoor lover.

photo: Laura Norsen

As we continued on the trail, dark clouds threatened rain for the first time in months and obscured any views of Mount Baker. It didn’t matter though, because as we finished the switchbacks and entered the meadows near the crossroads with the railroad grade trail, we found the motherload.

photo: Laura Norsen

Blueberries dotted the landscape as far as the eye could see. I plopped Evie down and showed her how to pick them. I squished a few and fed them to her. She looked around for more. Laura and Andy quickly jettisoned their water to free up their Nalgenes for storage as we picked and picked and picked and picked.


We never made it to the lookout. Instead we feasted on the berries for a very long time. It was addicting and too difficult to stop. There was a seemingly endless supply and they were perfectly ripe. We all agreed that North Cascade blueberries are just the best around.


It seemed the end of summer had finally arrived. It didn’t rain that day, but the vibes had changed. It gave me a sense of relief from the heat, haze, and fires. And it made me hopeful that the wildfire season would be over soon.

The Big Burn by Timothy Egan

 

Book Ends

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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Handmade

Birch Edition

il_570xN.645473834_cnx9Birch Grove Pillow Cover by Willow Lane Textiles
I am in love with all of Willow Lane’s designs, including this wintry birch pattern. Willow Lane owner, Amelia, is a mother of five who fell in love with fabrics when she was a teenager spending hours in the fabric store. She never settled for ordinary and set out to create her own designs. Be sure to check out all of her creations on her site.

 

 

 

 

 

il_570xN.779280243_l1dhLog Candle Holders by Cozy Lighty
These cozy candle holders make me want to curl up and read a book. The one of a kind pieces are made in Latvia and shipped all over the world with the goal to spread positive light to those who receive them. They come in all shapes and sizes and would be great for event lighting.

 

 

 

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Aspen Forest Mugs by Mary Elizabeth Arts
Ok, so technically these are autumn aspens but I couldn’t resist added them to this list. Who doesn’t love a little flash of color in the winter? I especially love the customized initials carved into the trees. The set of two mugs makes a great gift for a wedding or anniversary.

 

 

 

 

 

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Birch Forest Wall Stencil by StenCilit
Creative designer of StenCilit, Merili, believes that “every home needs to be the coziest place in the world.” I could not agree more. This stencil design is inspired by the simplicity of Nordic design and adds a lovely touch to a nursery or bedroom. The stencil comes with detailed instructions to apply.

 

 

 

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Birch Tea Towel by Hearth and Harrow
Owner of Hearth and Harrow, Casey, is passionate about bringing nature into her work. She grew up on a farm in rural Maine and now spends her time raising her family and creating beautifully printed tea towels, cards and onesies. Be sure to check out her collection of prints ranging from plants and trees to seashells and bird nests.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Birch Bark Bracelet by Modern Flower Child
This wonderful bracelet is great for adding a touch flair to your unique natural style. It is hand made with real birch bark and resin. Modern Flower Child has an amazing eye for detail that is evident in her wide body of work. Be sure to check out the website for other nature inspired styles.

 

 

 

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Birch Coasters by Woodland Crew
Add a bit of nature to your coffee table with these coasters made from slices of real birch logs. The coasters come in a variety of thicknesses and are covered in a protective coating to prevent chipping. This set of four makes a great housewarming gift.

Road Trip

Northeast Part 3: New York & PA

The next morning we said our goodbyes as my mother-in-law stuffed our bags with apples and snacks and we headed out to catch the ferry to New York. The gusty cool autumn wind formed white peaks on Lake Champlain and I bundled up to run out of the car and snap a photo of the boat. As we waited, another ferry boat pulled up to the dock and unloaded. We watched several cars disembark and then, no joke, there were probably ten tractors that roared off the boat like a small town parade. We chuckled as the proud owners waved and we waved back.

This was just our first indication that we were traveling to another world, a place deemed “forever wild” when it was saved from deforestation and declared a park in 1892. While we crossed the lake we planned our route via paper map. Our smartphones could not help us find the most beautiful way through the mountains or the direction to go to spy the most lakes. Anyways there was no cell service in many areas we would be driving through. For a while we were free.

As we weaved through the windy roads we marveled at the unique architecture and outdoor furniture style of the area. It reminded me of my dad and his house full of mounted animals, a bear rug and rocking chairs made of twigs. The leaves here were the brightest and most colorful we’d seen yet. People with phones held up packed into small turnoffs along the roads. We planned to stop for a hike and thought we were clever but getting a few miles off the road, but we got a big dose of reality when we saw cars lined up for miles along the forest road. It was a short hike and we figured we would have to double the distance to include the walk from the car to the trail head. We decided to skip it and stop instead for brunch in Lake Placid.

The sun hovered above the horizon as we scanned the last of the Adirondack lakes for moose (we didn’t see any) and the way became flatter and filled with corn fields and farms. This was the beginning of the familiar territory that I recognized as my home land. The sunset colored the endless fields with a soft yellow glow. We counted deer in the fields between tiny towns as we crossed into Pennsylvania. By then it was too dark to see much, but we would see more in the days to follow. I was home.

The next day my dad took us to my favorite outdoor places growing up. He took us the “back way” on gravel roads bearing my maiden name through yellow and orange hardwood forest. I kept my eyes peeled looking for wildlife like I always did as a kid while driving through the forest. We drove to our old cabin filled with memories of family gatherings, lots of cakes and cookies (I inherited my sweet tooth from my dad and his five brothers), card games and laughter. On the way we stopped at a overlook where my uncle’s ashes were spread.

While driving back, we spotted a beautiful white church across the road from an apple orchard. I asked my dad to stop so I could get some photos. While I took photos my dad wandered through the tiny graveyard next to the church. He found that almost all the gravestones had our family name on them. He’s driven by that church more times than you could possibly count but had no idea that we might have relatives buried there. It was a beautiful discovery.

Lastly we stopped at Halfway Dam, a small lake with a sandy beach where I spent many a summer day with friends and family. I remember running wet and barefoot through the stone structures built by the CCC to the concession stand to buy popsicles and hotdogs. I hadn’t been back there in years but it all came back to me like it was yesterday. These places are so ingrained in my being. My family’s roots run deep here in central PA and we can trace our ancestors back to the Revolutionary War. And no matter how long I’m away, it will always feel like home.

 

Road Trip

Northeast Part 2: Vermont

This year I’m thankful that I got to spend time with my family, especially outdoor time. Our next stop on our Northeast road trip was Vermont, my husband’s home state. We started off our visit with his family with a bike ride in the Northeast Kingdom. Well, actually we started at The Museum of Every Day Life, which is exactly what it sounds like. It is a small barn on the side of the road with exhibits of matchbooks (including erotic ones displayed behind a curtain), paperclips, toothbrushes and a special exhibit on dust. There was dust from the moon, Mount Saint Helens and the Sistine Chapel. They even tackled big questions like, is belly button lint a form of dust? It was surprisingly philosophic, endlessly entertaining, and very Vermont.

We continued on our way to Barton where we began our bike ride. The weather was beautiful and the fall color was just starting to get good. We biked to Lake Willoughby, a long narrow lake framed on both sides by colorful mountains and is apparently sometimes referred to as the “Lake Lucerne of Vermont.” Is that right? I said as I chomped on an heirloom apple. It may not truly be like Lake Lucerne, but still gorgeous in its own way. Our next stop was the Old Stone House in Brownington which I was thrilled to arrive at to give my tired legs a break. The building was originally called Athenian Hall and was a boarding school run by the first African American to serve in state legislature, Alexander Twilight. Now it’s a museum that houses exhibits of 19th century life.

We started the next day off with a visit to Morse Farm for maple creemees and to stock up on maple syrup. It was cold and rainy but we couldn’t resist the urge to have some maple flavored soft serve for breakfast. Once sugared up we headed to an old granite quarry. Vermont is well known for its high quality granite and along with it, a community of talented carvers. The path we took was riddled with carvings on the rock faces. It was fascinating to see the artwork blend into nature around it. If you weren’t paying attention you could walk right by them.

The path led to ice blue ponds surrounded by shear cliffs and curved wooden boardwalks labeled as a roller coaster for mountain bikes. Large smooth cut pieces of granite jutted out of the ground at strange angles like an abandoned graveyard. We found numerous artifacts and old rusted tools laying in the stands of white birch and stopped to admire the views at overlooks. Just before the end of the trail we passed a happy young couple with a picnic basket. They just got engaged. Then we saw candles lining the end of the trail at a lookout. How romantic.

Our last day in Vermont was my husband’s birthday and we wanted to hike up into the Green Mountains to celebrate. We headed to Camels Hump, a local favorite. The mountain is recognizable by its distinctive hump and as the third highest mountain in the state, can be seen for many miles in all directions. It’s even featured on the Vermont state quarter.

There are many trails through the state park that lead to the summit. We took a steep and rocky path through hardwood forest and red and yellow foliage. We passed many people heading down enjoying the beautiful fall day. About halfway up we stopped at a clearing with views to the top. The hump rose abruptly and I wondered where the trail would traverse. I would soon find out as we broke above the tree line.

We skirted around the steep face of the hump on bare rock like mountain goats to the more easy going side. Then we entered a stand of stunted pine trees. As we climbed a bit more we got a surprise. The tops of the trees and the rocks above us were covered in a layer of hoar frost. The last push to the summit was like climbing through a winter wonderland. We bundled up with our extra layers and snacked on homemade apple squares and ginger cookies.

The views from the summit were stunning and spanned from the White Mountains of New Hampshire, the mountains we visited only a few days ago, to Lake Champlain, our next days destination. Our Vermont visit was coming to an end and we made plans to head to Pennsylvania via upstate New York the following day. The birthday celebration continued that night as we savored our time with my husband’s family. Next stop: the Adirondacks.

 

519vSBHtFQL._SY344_BO1,204,203,200_Wandering Home by Bill McKibben

McKibben, an environmentalist with many books to his name, takes a walk from Vermont to the Adirondacks of New York while pondering the state of his home lands. Along the way he visits with organic farmers, environmental students, and conservationists to discuss the history and issues of the land. He explores the differences between the tidy, more populated Vermont and the wild of the Adirondacks and ultimately the intricacies of the relationship between man and nature.

 

 

 

 

 

Hikes featured in this Post:
Camel’s Hump

Road Trip

Northeast Part 1: White Mtns, NH

My husband and I have been wanting to do a northeast road trip for awhile and we finally did it this year. We both grew up there, I in Pennsylvania and my husband in Vermont, and we haven’t been back during autumn for a long time. So we packed our bags and hiking boots and hopped a red eye to Boston. The east coast greeted us with a beautiful sunrise. We planned to meet up with friends that evening so we had all day to explore. Since it was getting close to Halloween we headed to Salem. We wandered through the neighborhoods and spooky graveyards, and explored old haunted buildings. I insisted on visiting the local indie bookstore Wicked Good Books and we grabbed brunch at the Ugly Mug Diner where they serve you coffee in tacky mugs. My husband’s said, Don’t let the bastards get you down. Mine said, Got lobstah?

The next day we headed north to Vermont, but first we wanted to take a hike in the White Mountains of New Hampshire. We headed to Franconia Ridge, a popular route for peakbaggers going for all of the 4000-footers in the Whites. There are six 4000-footers along the ridge and most people hike a 9 mile loop to collect them all. We didn’t have time to complete the full loop but we did part of it, up to the Greenleaf Hut on Mount Lafayette.

We started out at the busy trailhead (it was a weekday!) and followed the Old Bridle Path under a canopy of yellow. The way was easy going and we soon came upon a babbling brook completing the picturesque experience. The air was cool and the sunny skies we had earlier were beginning to cloud up. We were in mountains notorious for extreme weather, a place where you always need to be prepared for inclement weather any time of year.

As we climbed the grade steepened and the rocky insides of the ancient mountain revealed themselves. The white granite flowed down the trail like waves. There was a break in the trees and we finally had a birds eye view of the terrain. We could see Mount Lafayette above a sea of yellow, green and orange, its top obscured by clouds. Some folks headed down toward us in winter coats. I asked if they made it to the top of the mountain. Yeah, but we were socked in – cold and windy too. Good thing we weren’t looking to summit.

Soon we approached the hut. I was a little surprised, ok, I was a lot surprised. When I think of “hut” I think of a one-room structure with little to no amenities. This hut is quite different. It’s huge. It has two bunkrooms that together sleeps 48 people, a full size kitchen and a large dining room. The indoor composting toilets were immaculate and you can wash your hands! They even boasted of their all fresh & local cuisine. We wondered how they got fresh food up there as we ate our lunch outside. I insisted we share a $1 self-serve hot chocolate from a real ceramic mug, because why not?

The hut was built in 1930 and is maintained by the Appalachian Mountain Club. I lingered near the bookshelf in the dining room and pulled out a trail log from the 1960s. The entries were written well before my time yet they were familiar, as our collective love of nature has been unchanged for decades. It warmed my heart. Accents from all over the world filled the air around the hut and I listened to their tales of a long day’s hike. Three miles remained of their tough loop hike.

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The clouds that obscured the top of Mount Lafayette had cleared and provided us with views of the peaks along the ridge. As we descended the steep granite we passed a young man sweating buckets and carrying an enormous load of boxes filled with cartons of eggs and other food. So that was how they got fresh local food!

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The sun began to lower and in doing so lit up the foliage with an extra golden glow. We looked west toward the Green Mountains of Vermont, our next stop. But first it was time to meet up with my in-laws for beer and food in the little town of Littleton at the Schilling Beer Company. The day was a wonderful start to our colorful and beer-filled road trip.

 

More info about the Greenleaf Hut & Franconia Ridge:
Appalachian Mountain Club site & Hut Reservations
Franconia Ridge Loop on Section Hiker

Road Trip

North Cascades, Hwy 20

Fall is a time for reflection. It’s time to take stock and prepare for the winter, time to set priorities and hunker down and get things done. It’s a time to bring back tradition and most importantly, it’s time to go look at the larch. Yes, that’s right, larch. In most places around the country it’s time to look at the leaves, but the Evergreen State doesn’t turn orange and red as much as it just gets a little less green. But the larch are an exception to this. So we don our puffy jackets, hats, and mittens and drive high into alpine country to seek out these unique golden symbols of fall.

Larch are coniferous which means they have needles and cones like our other NW trees: Douglas fir, hemlock, spruce, etc. But unlike those trees which stay green all year, larch are also deciduous meaning their needles turn yellow and drop off in autumn. This is unusual for a conifer, but it is actually a great advantage for a tree that lives in a harsh winter environment. Trees lose their leaves because they begin storing extra nutrients instead of using them to make leaves. This gives them a nutrient boost that helps them survive the winter. Some other advantages are that the snow will not pile up on their branches causing them to break and they recover faster from forest fires since they have the ability to regrow needles.

So where to find the magical larch? Well, one of my favorite places is the North Cascades. Larch tend to grow on the eastern slopes of the Cascades so I like to find them near Rainy Pass on Highway 20. The key is getting up high into the nearby passes: Easy Pass, Cutthroat Pass, Granite Pass, Maple Pass. These are all spectacular places to see larch and incredible views.

There is something special about seeking out the larch in the fall. There is something to be said about the importance of tradition, but more than that, there is a sense of calm and peace that comes with autumn in the mountains. You notice things more. The cool air on your nose, the crunch of the leaves, the frost clinging to the shadows. The sky is a deeper shade of blue as the sun hovers closer to the horizon and the dense air dampens sound.

The old trail follows the creek

past ancient trees

and the sound of water.

 

The sky clears, light fades,

varied thrushes sing their two-note song

deep within the forest.

 

Once again, like visiting friends,

I walk into familiar mountains.

 

-Once Again by Saul Weisberg, Headwaters

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This year I didn’t get out to see the larch turning. I was traveling throughout most of October including a trip to the east coast to visit family and revisit an old childhood tradition of mine, driving into the mountains to look at the leaves with my dad (more about that trip later). But as I flew over the Cascades I looked down to see the jagged mountains topped with yellow and my heart filled with joy.

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I don’t always like to return to my favorite trails. That’s why I love the tradition of looking at the larch. I could spend a lifetime visiting all the trails with larch, and each experience would be unique. There is a sense of returning to a familiar place but without the expectations of repeating the same experience on a beloved trail. Sometimes the memories of our favorite places are enough and these places are better left not revisited. Kind of like your favorite childhood books, they are never as good as you remember them.

Now as the snow begins to fall in the Cascades, I revisit the larch through my memories and old photos. Normally I would be disappointed with this, but I’m giving myself a break. Besides, it is much warmer here as I snuggle in a blanket and sip tea, remembering the way I felt on those hikes and my feet don’t hurt. Sometimes just thinking about my favorite places makes me just as happy as visiting them. I especially like to use this technique while at the dentist or getting a flu shot.

 

Headwaters_Cover_Page_001Headwaters, Poems and Field Notes by Saul Weisberg

As I read this collection of poems I got the same feeling I get when I think of my favorite hikes. The poems are short and succinct and evoke a sense of place with every word. This is the type of poetry I’ve been looking for, the type that I can understand and doesn’t try to be anything more than it is. Saul writes about the North Cascades and is the executive director of the North Cascades Institute. He has worked in the Northwest as a climbing ranger, field biologist, fisherman and fire lookout and lives in Bellingham, WA.

 

 

 

 

Hikes featured in this Post:
Cutthroat Pass
Easy Pass

Reading List

Reading List: Halloween

When I was a kid I had an obsession with Halloween books. Anything about ghosts, werewolves and vampires excited me (this was well before the Twilight craze, btw). I vividly remember circling all the creepy books in my 3rd grade Halloween Scholastic book order pamphlet and begging my dad to buy them all for me and then reluctantly narrowing it down to one or two choices. I frequented our local bookstore, The Lexicon, and bought all the Goosebumps and Fear Street books with my allowance. I just loved being scared. These days I am still drawn to creepy books, not the full-on horror kind, but the ones that keep me up at night because I want to finish them with my heart racing just a bit. Here are some of my favorite chilly and creepy books with an outdoor theme perfect for the season.

 

51lrL30EcUL._SX329_BO1,204,203,200_The Mountain Story by Lori Lansens

Oh my, this book is so good. Its the fictional story of an 18-year-old boy named Wolf who, on a cool November day, rides a gondola to the top of a mountain to end his life. But on the way he meets some unprepared hikers and the four of them become lost on the mountain. In the following days the hikers learn about each other and their secrets. This book will have you double checking your ten essentials before going out on your next hike and staying up all night reading about these fascinating characters. This is one of the best books I’ve read this year and a perfect autumn read.

 

 

 

 

 

517ztdfiUQL._SY344_BO1,204,203,200_Haunted Hikes by Andrea Lankford

There is nothing better than ghost stories from the trails. Lankford, a former National Park Ranger, sets out to tell you what they don’t tell you the travel brochures, muhahahaha. These true stories of disappearances, hauntings and even murder span the country’s most famous National Parks. But be careful, it will certainly put terrifying images in your head on your next foggy hike.

 

 

 

 

 

St Lucy’s Home for Girls Raised by Wolves & Vampires in the Lemon Grove by Karen Russell

Karen Russell is one of my favorite authors. Her stories are dark, mystical and creepy, just what I love. I read these books a few years ago and I still have vivid images in my mind from their pages. Her stories are usually about kids and mostly take place in the outdoors – a plane crash site on a glacier, a stormy seaside or a magical Florida swamp and they are topped with just a touch of magical realism. I don’t want to spoil the stories too much, I just encourage you to go discover them for yourself.

 

 

 

 

 

 

61ehngq86yL._SY344_BO1,204,203,200_The Sasquatch Hunter’s Almanac by Sharma Shields

Many words have been used to describe this debut novel by Spokane-based author, Sharma Shields: weird, dark, fantastical, whimsical, bizarre, surreal and spooky are just a few. The book follows the life of Eli, a young boy who watches his mother run away with a sasquatch by the name of Mr Krantz and grows up obsessed with proving the beast’s existence. There are many monsters in this book but the humans are real and their emotions are relatable. This book will stick with you in a strange, haunting and wonderful way.

 

 

 

 

 

Wildwood_by_Colin_Meloy_cover Wildwood by Colin Meloy
I adore this kids series that has been called “hipster Narnia.” Sure, it’s a little hipster, I mean, it is written by a Portland musician and all, but the story is compelling and I loved spending time in this enchanted world. On a foggy September morning Prue’s baby brother is stolen by a murder of crows and taken across the Willamette River to the Impassable Forest. She and her friend Curtis bravely follow, determined to rescue the baby. They go on to enter an unknown world full of talking coyotes, owls and eagles, and of course, an evil governess. Northwestern trees, plants and animals fill the pages, and even the pesky english ivy makes an appearance. Kids and adults alike will love these whimsical books filled with beautiful, if not hipster, illustrations.

 

 

 

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