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Dog Mountain

May 2, 2017July 30, 2018
by Ashley Gossens

One of my favorite trails to visit in the spring is Dog Mountain in the Columbia River Gorge. Situated on the north side of the river, its flanks are fully exposed to the south and all the sunshine. In the spring, the hillsides explode with the most brilliant yellows of arrowleaf balsomroot.

This was the first summit I hiked on my own many years ago. The trail climbs, steeply at times, 2800 feet above the river below. But I hardly noticed the elevation as I was so distracted by the flowers. I knew that the trail was famous for its balsomroot blooms, but I didn’t know that it was also home to seemingly hundreds of other flower species. I was just starting to learn my PNW flowers so I stopped to take photos of all of them to identify later. Most were new to me at the time.

Near the summit is an old lookout site. The lookout was built in the 1930’s to watch for fires across the river. As airplanes took to the skies in search of fires, lookouts all over the west became obsolete, including this one, which was removed in 1967.

It is said that the mountain got its name from a writer who described the steep and rough mountain as “that dogged mountain” or “that doggone mountain” and recommended sturdy boots for the ascent. There is also a legend that says some men got stranded on the mountain and had to resort to eating their dogs. I’m hoping this theory is not true.

No matter the hardships endured to get to the top of this mountain, its hard not to have a smile on your face and hum “The Sound of Music” along with the infinite number of bees feasting away.

But, with all the springtime beauty comes crowds. This trail, with its close proximity to Portland and Vancouver, is one of the most heavily trafficked in the Gorge. Parking is nearly impossible, so be sure to arrive very early or go on a weekday.

Be prepared to share the trail with others and make the best of it. Some of my favorite hikes are crowded ones where I get to see the happy faces of other hikers enjoying the same beautiful space.

Hikes Featured in this Post:
Dog Mountain

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Book Club

Summer Summit

August 9, 2016October 9, 2018
by Ashley Gossens

I first hiked to the top of Sauk Mountain solo back in 2013 as part of my quest to climb 30 peaks before I turned 30 years old. It quickly became one of my favorite hikes, so when I was thinking of places to take my book club group, this one was on the top of the list and I couldn’t wait to share it with them.

The road to the trailhead is 8 miles of rough, steep gravel. It seemed we were driving all the way to the summit when we finally broke out of the trees to meadows and the trailhead. We craned our necks up to see the summit towering above. I pointed out the zig zag of a trail scrawled on the steep mountainside. I promised it wasn’t nearly as bad or scary as it looked from there.

Just a few steps down the trail we stopped at possibly the cutest outhouse on the planet. The little brown wooden A-frame is trimmed in white scallops and the best part of all- it was stocked with toilet paper!

We continued onto the famous switchbacks which start out from the beginning and cut back and forth through a steep blossoming meadow. White and purple dominated for a few switchbacks until the other colors of the rainbow emerged as we climbed higher and higher. We stopped to capture the colors and watch the butterflies and bees collecting pollen.

As the trail nears the upper portion of the mountain you really feel a sense of accomplishment as you look down to the trailhead below. For such a steep mountain, the switchbacks really take the pain out of the climb and are much appreciated. At one particular switchback I turned back to chat with the others and stopped in my tracks with a “whoa!” as Mt Baker came into view rising like Mt Fuji above the hazy valley below.

My favorite part, though, is when the trail swings around at the top. All at once the North Cascades come into view in all their glory. On this side, the mountain plunges again into a valley, this one full of open green meadow and wildness. Climbing a bit more, we were led to a small campsite in the trees overlooking Sauk Lake far below.

The trail then enters some talus and from here it’s a short steep climb to the summit. We spun around to identify all the mountains we could see- Glacier Peak, Mt Rainier, Mt Baker, Sloan Peak, Three Fingers and finally settled down for lunch. We discussed The Summer Book and picked out our favorite stories from it as I read out loud some of my favorite parts. We laughed at how funny and sweet six-year-old Sophia and her grandmother are in this book. I passed out homemade Lingonberry muffins to go along with the Finnish theme.

As we returned down the trail, we reveled in the views and the much welcomed sun. I thought about Sophia and those formative summers of my own childhood and the memories that I still cling to from my hometown back in PA. I thought of summers so hot and humid that we spent entire days and nights splashing in the pool. I thought of exploring the woods in our backyard and climbing trees and building treehouses. I thought about how my daughter’s formative years will be. Her playground will be quite different than mine and for that I am a little sad. But better yet, she will have these spectacular views.

One summer morning at sunrise a long time ago I met a little girl with a book under her arm. I asked her why she was out so early and she answered that there were too many books and far too little time. And there she was absolutely right.

The Summer Book by Tove Jansson

Book Ends

Read about the fascinating life of Tove Jansson
Did you know that Tove Jansson is the creator of the Finnish cartoon Moomin?
See what the former lookout on Sauk Mountain looked like

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Outdoor Life

Mt Whitney

April 5, 2016August 7, 2018
by Ashley Gossens

What do you say when a friend calls and asks if you want to climb Mt Whitney with her? You say yes. You don’t think about how high it is, how long the trail is, the dangerous weather or snow conditions. You just say yes. Absolutely, yes.

It was 2013 and I was working on climbing 30 mountains before I turned 30 years old. My BFF in California scored some permits for September and thought that I might want to add the highest mountain in the lower-48 to my list. I hadn’t really considered it before, but of course I was in. I booked a flight to LA and then did a little research. I found that the Mt Whitney Trail is not technical (when there is no snow present) but climbs 11 miles and 6000ft from the trailhead at Whitney Portal to an altitude of 14,500 feet and we were doing this all in one day. Yikes!

I really didn’t know if I would be able to do it, but I was going to try. I was also nervous about the altitude since I hadn’t climbed higher than about 12,000 feet and that was when I was acclimatized. But I just decided to take it one step at a time and evaluate how I was feeling. If I didn’t make it to the top, I didn’t make it to the top, no big deal. It would still be an amazing trip.

So I hopped on a plane and stuck my head to the window looking at the Sierra below and wondering what it would be like at the top of Whitney. Then we packed in the car and headed north to Lone Pine. The one horse town sits on a plateau at the base of the Sierra Nevada mountains near the Alabama Hills. It’s picturesque location is famous for the many western movies shot there. I remember our dinner that night like it was yesterday. We sat outside and looked up at the mountains. I had butterflies in my stomach and a big smile on my face. I couldn’t wait to climb the mountain the next day.

We awoke in the dark and checked and rechecked our packs then headed up to Whitney Portal around 4am. In single file we trudged up the trail. For a few hours all I could see was the gravel of endless switchbacks and my boots lit up by my headlamp. Eventually the trail flattened a bit and we got to a stream. I looked up at the sky and saw nothing but stars. I will never forget the moment I switched off my headlamp, looked up at the endless stars, the water gently trickling nearby.

Then we began to climb more. We were at about 11,000 feet when we stopped for a break and a snack. I was not feeling great and was starting to worry about the altitude. I was hoping it was just nerves. I forced down a sammy jammy and lots of water and continued on. Not long after that we began to see the sun rising. We reached a basin with a lake (where many people camp) just as the ramparts of Whitney and others around lit up in alpenglow. I couldn’t believe my eyes, it seemed like some kind of magic. We stood, huddled together for warmth as we watched in awe as the sunlight painted the mountains orange.

Now finally being able to use my preferred sense of sight, I got a boost of energy. We could now see the clear switchbacks that tracked up seemingly unclimbable jagged peaks. This is when the altitude really kicked in. My head began to thump and it felt like it was blowing up like a balloon, it was also much harder to catch my breath. We slowed down dramatically here. Take a few steps, stop. Take a few steps, stop. I was so thankful for the switchbacks with their gentle grade. We passed some young men working on the trail with tools. I knew they carried those tools up there and I couldn’t even begin to fathom it.

At the top of the switchback section, the trail begins a long traverse across a row of pinnacles and then gradually climbs once more to the broad summit. Along the traverse, the trail fell away thousands of feet between the tall pinnacles. It is not particularly dangerous if you stay on the trail, but I definitely scooted across them being sure to not look down. Once back on solid ground, it’s not far to he summit. Many people were coming down and encouraging us, announcing “you’re almost there!” I got another boost of energy, so excited to see the ugly shelter and to actually make it to the top!

We signed the register, took many pictures, woofed down some snickers bars and took a nice long nap in the sun. We chatted with others from all over the world and snapped group photos for them. I could not believe that we were at the top of the highest point in the lower 48! And better yet, I got there with my friends.

Outdoor Life

Granite Mountain Lookout

October 1, 2015February 23, 2018
by Ashley Gossens

I’ve been to this nearby lookout many times over the years, but the first time was my favorite. It was late September and Seattle was nestled under a chilly layer of clouds. I started hiking up in the shadows before entering the foggy layer. I was a little disappointed because I thought the lookout would be in the clouds. I wouldn’t see any views but I was looking forward to seeing the fall color anyway. To my surprise as I climbed I discovered that the cloud layer was not so thick and suddenly it was all pure blue skies. I was on top of the clouds and it felt like I was on top of the world.

It was my first fall hiking experience in the Cascades and I was in love. It felt like being in an airplane up there above the clouds. The air had a crisp coolness that refreshed me from all the climbing. And the yellow, orange and red color of the foliage popped against the bluebird sky.

When we got to the lookout my dog Nali, then only 6 months old, was hesitant to go up the flight of wooden stairs to the lookout. I picked her up and she whined. Apparently my dog was afraid of heights. What kind of adventure dog is afraid of heights?

I was greeted by a couple dressed in forest service khaki and the most amazing smell, so out of place that I almost didn’t recognize it. It was chocolate chip cookies fresh from the oven. The woman handed me one and my jaw dropped. It was still warm and it melted in my mouth. I was completely blown away by this simple gift. It was officially the best day ever.

I discovered that the couple were volunteer rangers just up there manning the lookout for the weekend. They showed me the Osborne fire finder and how they lined it up to determine the coordinates of a fire. I lingered above it, matching up the mountains etched in the metal with the ones I saw out the windows. The space was cozy with a cot and blankets, a desk and chair and that all important gas powered oven.

This past weekend I returned to Granite Mountain. It’s the same time of year that I made that first visit and I had high hopes when I woke up to a marine layer in Seattle. But the clouds didn’t stretch its fingers past the foothills under the unseasonable warm sun. And the lookout was locked up, no cookies this time. But it was a beautiful day so Nali and I climbed up the rocks to find a nice lunch spot and looked to the north. Jagged brown peaks pierced the blue sky as I spotted Glacier Peak and Mt Baker, more interesting, at least to me, than the views of Mt Rainier to the south.

I’ll never get a repeat of that first hike to the lookout. But there is still comfort in returning to a beloved trail. I know exactly what to expect and where the hardest part of the trail is. I know that the last push to the top is easier than it looks but will take every last bit of energy out of me. I know that when I get about halfway up I will wonder why on earth I would ever succumb myself repeatedly to this leg torture of a trail. And I know that as soon as I hit the meadows I will forget all of that. Most importantly, I know that I can make it to the top and that the hard work to get there is worth it. And maybe, just maybe, there will be a warm chocolate chip cookie waiting for me at the top.

I haven’t had another cookie experience like that one on my first trip to lookout many years ago, so I don’t want to get everyone’s hopes up. But you can create your own cookie experience with a recipe for my favorite version of the universally loved snack. Share some with strangers at the top to make it their best day ever.

Chocolate Chip Oatmeal Cookie Recipe:

1 1/4c flour
1/2 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp baking soda
1/2 tsp cinnamon
1/4 tsp salt
3/4c softened butter
3/4c brown sugar
1/3 c sugar
1 1/2 tsp vanilla
1 egg
2 Tbsp milk
1 3/4 c chocolate chips
1 c quick oats

Preheat oven to 350F.
Combine flour, baking soda, baking powder, cinnamon and salt in a bowl.
In a separate bowl, beat the butter, brown sugar, sugar and vanilla until creamy. Beat in egg.
Gradually beat in flour mixture and milk.
Stir in chocolate chips and oats.
Drop onto baking sheet and bake for 10-14 minutes.

Hikes featured in this post:
Granite Mountain

Outdoor Life

A Birthday on Glacier Peak

August 12, 2015August 7, 2018
by Ashley Gossens

Two years ago I turned 30 on top of my favorite mountain. I effortlessly walked to the top of Glacier Peak and held up my ice axe in defiance and celebration. I was in the best shape of my life and 30 felt so good. My husband pulled cupcakes from his pack, the vanilla ones with confetti inside AND the confetti icing and they were surprisingly intact. My brother-in-law revealed a bottle of champagne and he shook it and we all screamed as it exploded and we drank straight from the bottle in celebration. As we posed for pictures my normally frizzy hair was miraculously smooth and I looked amazing and refreshed. It was everything I wanted it to be. It was perfect.

If that sounds ridiculous to you, that’s because it’s not true. But that is what I wanted it to be like, a total dreamfest. In reality, the only thing that happened is the part where we made it to the top of the mountain. My husband wasn’t toting cupcakes nor was there champagne, of course. I was certainly not in the best shape of my life. 30 hurt. A lot. My hair was a mess and we didn’t even summit on my actual birthday. And to be honest I was pretty terrified on that mountain and I couldn’t wait to get off of it. Like usual there were mishaps, misapprehension and a good dose of reality checks. It certainly wasn’t perfect, but in it’s own special way, it was better than perfect.

In 2013 I decided I wanted to hike up 30 mountains before I turned 30 years old. I’ve told you this before and I told you how my husband thought it would be a great idea to climb up Glacier Peak on my 30th birthday, my favorite mountain in the Cascades. I was a little reluctant but I agreed and we poured over the maps to find a good route. We would have to go a long way just to get to the mountain so we thought why not make a big loop of it while we are out in the remote Glacier Peak Wilderness? Why not? So we planned out a 6 day, 50 mile route complete with Glacier Peak summit and invited my brother-in-law. I thought maybe the plan was a little ambitious, but it was winter and August felt forever away. Surely we had plenty of time to prepare.

Well, August came around and I didn’t feel all that prepared. I had been hiking a ton that summer but we only went for one backpacking trip in the spring. I was worried about the pack weight and mileage. Not only that but I had never climbed a big glaciated mountain before. I knew how to use an ice axe and how to tie knots. The rest we learned from The Freedom of the Hills and a guided glacier trek on Mt Baker. We practiced roping up in the backyard. We made prusiks and learned crevasse rescue. We showed my brother-in-law these things when he got here. Even after all that, I was still nervous. But soon enough, we were packing our bags and my nervousness turned to excitement.

On the first day we had 11 miles and a 4000 ft climb up to White Pass ahead of us. We strapped on our packs (mine was 40 pounds, a good 10 pounds more than I’ve ever carried) and climbed through the trees to open meadows. We passed a group on their way down carrying climbing gear and asked them if they made it to the summit. They had, but they said it was tough. And long, so long. Their eyes looked tired and I tried not to think of them as I climbed the switchbacks.

It was unbearably hot even in the early hours of the day and I was slow. I had to take many breaks and sit in the little available shade to give my shoulders a rest. I felt like I was going to pass out. This was not like me, I was tougher than this. I hated making the guys wait for me. The sun beat down on us, the horse flies were feasting on my legs and we were running out of water.

The trail finally leveled out a bit into a boggy meadow with even more bugs. I felt like we had to be getting close to the pass. Then I looked up. The ridgeline towered above and I realized that we still had a long way to go and at least another 1000 feet. I took off my pack and sat down killing as many flies as possible and holding back tears. What was I doing? If I can’t even make it to the pass, how was I ever going to climb the mountain?

We kept going. We found a stream to replenish our water and eventually made it to the pass. We set up the tent and made some food and shared a liter of gatorade which made me feel better. From the pass we could see just the very tip of Glacier Peak peeking out over the ridge above us. We stared at it for a long time. It seemed so impossibly far away. There was a group with horses camping near us and we watched them trot by in the alpenglow. We snacked on gummy bears as the sun disappeared behind high mountains.

As tired as I was I didn’t get much rest that night. We all woke up to a hellish thunderstorm. The ground we were sleeping on rumbled as lightning lit up our tent. Then the rain came. Big loud drops evolved into sheets battering the tent. We could hear the cries of the nearby horses in the storm and my heart broke for them. We looked outside to make sure water wasn’t pooling beneath the tent. Thankfully we were in a safe spot.

The next morning the horses were gone. The campers must have packed out early with the terrified animals. We packed up and prepared for our first day off trail. We studied the GPS and the map. There were lots of ways to get up over the ridge but only a few good ways down the other side. We did our best to find a good route but still had to scree slide down the other side. We ran into two guys and they gave us some tips on camping spots. We crossed a snowfield and found a nice spot near a glacial lake. It was lunch time and I was thankful for the low mileage day even if it was over some tough terrain.

All day we watched the clouds build up and we waited for the storms to return. They did. This time it hailed on us before it downpoured and we didn’t pick a good spot. We had to get out and move the tent to higher ground. We cooked in the vestibule and ate and played Yahtzee as the bands of storms came by one after the other. I relaxed a little bit because I thought there was no way we would climb the mountain the next day.

The next morning after getting battered by more storms, my husband woke me up at some ungodly hour. Hey, the storms are gone and the clouds are clearing, let’s give it a try. I grumbled and rolled over. Can’t we take a zero day and just relax? I replied. I wasn’t ready to go up the mountain. But deep down I knew I never would be. He poked and prodded before I finally rose and went through the motions, the ones I had been preparing for all summer. Put on hat, jacket, headlamp, check and re-check gear. Start up GPS.

We walked silently in the early morning glow over the rocks. So many rocks. Big rocks, little rocks, giant rocks, all types of volcanic rocks. We walked for miles over rocks, we climbed up rocks and down rocks until we finally hit snow. The going was much easier on the snow. We climbed and climbed until finally the full view of the mountain and the route was in front of us. It was truly a beautiful sight. We looked around for other climbers but there was no one around. We switched back and forth between snow and ashen dirt and scree. Crampons on, crampons off. Rope on, rope off. We crossed an icefall on pure blue ice that did not seem real. We looked down into crevasses that seemed infinite. It was so quiet up there. The only noise was the snow crunching under our boots.

After countless hours we were climbing up the last bit on rotten rock and snow. We were careful not to loosen rocks down onto each other. And then we were at the top. At 10,541 feet we were the tallest things around and it felt like we were on top of the world. We took some photos and tried to eat some food but I wasn’t hungry. My adrenaline was pumping and I felt happy, strong, scared and tired all at the same time. I didn’t think it was possible to feel so much at once. But I knew one thing and that was that the clouds were building up and the storms would come again. I wanted to get down and fast.

We reversed our route and glissaded down on our butts when possible. I was amazed at how fast we descended something that took all day to climb up. But when we hit the rock fields again we slowed down to a glacial pace. It was rough going and we were so tired but we could see the clouds settling in so we tried to hustle. Soon enough though we were in a whiteout. We had no choice but to ignore our intuitions and trust the GPS. Thankfully, after a little searching, it led us back to our tent.

We celebrated with a big dinner and Yahtzee but as thunderstorms battered the tent for the third night I was unsettled. It was as if the universe was reminding us that although we may have climbed a big mountain, we are still just little itty bitty breakable humans. Two days later we celebrated my 30th birthday at Blue Lake on Pilot Ridge. The lake was freezing but the guys jumped in to wash off the dirt and sweat. I rinsed my arms, feet and face but didn’t go in the frigid water. There was a mysterious small red bag at the bottom of my pack that I was instructed not to open until my birthday. I got it out and my husband told me to go away for a bit. I smiled. Fine. I came back and found that they made me a cheesecake topped with freshly picked blueberries. It was such a great surprise and oh so delicious. There was a duo of men camping nearby and we invited them to share our dessert. They were surprised to see such a delicacy and happily dug in as we swapped our hiking stories.

When I got the idea for Alpine Lily I was so excited, but I recognized a feeling I felt on Glacier Peak and it made me uncomfortable. It was vulnerability. I enjoyed telling my friends and family about my adventures and climbing Glacier Peak, but I always left out the parts where I was scared and weak. I left out the bugs, the pack weight, the struggles, the storms and the fear. I told everyone about my goal to climb the peak like it was no big deal. But it was really hard and I struggled on the mountain.

I didn’t tell anyone about Alpine Lily at first, not even my husband. I was scared of putting myself out there, sharing my weaknesses, free to be judged by anybody and everybody and especially my friends and family. Then one day I just decided to put Lily out there, just like the day we decided to climb Glacier Peak. And I did it. I climbed the mountain, created Alpine Lily and now I told my story. The story isn’t the perfect tale I had in my head, but it’s better than perfect because it’s real and it’s mine.

As I publish this post I will be on my way to celebrate my 32nd birthday on a mountain. A smaller mountain than Glacier Peak and one with a lookout on top. I will certainly be snuggling with a blanket, reading a book and sipping tea. Nali will be incredibly well behaved, and when the sun sets my husband and I will lay on the rocks with our heads together as meteors blaze before our eyes into the atmosphere. He’ll take out a perfect little vanilla cupcake with confetti inside AND the confetti icing and I will smile and say, how did you know, and how did you get that up here intact? And it will be perfect.

When I get home I will tell you the real story, and it will be better than perfect.

“It is not the critic that counts; not the man who points out how

the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better.

The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust

and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again,

because there is no effort without error and shortcoming;

but who does actually strive to do the deeds;

who knows great enthusiasm, the great devotions, who spends himself in a worthy cause;

who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails,

at least fails while daring greatly…” – Theodore Roosevelt

See Also: Setting Goals: 30 by 30

Note: We found out later that the hail and thunderstorms on the night after our summit climb ravaged the North Cascades. 70 people were stranded at the Cascade Pass trailhead when the Cascade River Road was washed out and a separate landslide blocked Highway 20.
Cascade River Road Washout
Slide Blocks Hwy 20

Daring Greatly by Brené Brown

In this profound and eye-opening book, Brené dispells the myth that being vulnerable is a weakness. We are bombarded with so many messages these days that perfection is ideal, so we often hold back on putting ourselves out there for fear of being not good enough or being criticized by others. I’ve certainly felt that way, but this book and Brené’s TED talk helped me to realize that the people I most admire are bold and never play it safe, they dare greatly, and if they fail at least they did so by giving it their best, and that is better than perfection.

Outdoor Life

Sourdough Mountain Lookout

July 31, 2015August 7, 2018
by Ashley Gossens

When I decided I wanted to hike up 30 peaks before I turned 30, I knew I had to put Sourdough on the list. This hike has a reputation for being tough but incredibly beautiful and bonus: there is a lookout at the top! And not just any lookout but a lookout made famous by the poet Gary Snyder with views of the endless jagged North Cascade peaks as well as Ross Lake and the emerald green Diablo Lake. It’s nearly a vertical mile to the lookout but worth every last excruciating step.

In 1952, Gary Snyder was looking for work through the Marblemount forest service and requested to be sent to the “highest, most remote, and most difficult-of-access lookout” in the district. They all laughed at him and sent him to Crater Mountain. He fell in love with the lookout life on that sharp-peaked mountain with a non-existent trail. He had to stash his supplies farther down the mountain and take many trips scrambling up and down to the lookout. But he relished in the solitude and practiced his zen buddhism. At the end of the season he didn’t want to leave the mountain and couldn’t wait for the next summer to return.

But the forest service decided not to man the Crater Mountain lookout in 1953. Turns out that the over 8000ft summit of Crater Mountain was too high to make a good lookout. Often the high lookout was obscured by clouds while nearby lower peaks were clear of the ceiling. So Gary was assigned to Sourdough Mountain. Gary called Sourdough “so mild in comparison” to Crater Mountain, which is hard to believe, but he no longer had to scramble up to the lookout with supplies. The mules dropped it all off at the front steps. Unfortunately, that summer would be his last at Sourdough or any other lookout for the matter. It was the McCarthy era and Gary was black-listed from government work for having relationships with alleged communists. Heartbroken and determined to work in the outdoors rather than have a regular 9-5, he resorted to a logging job in Oregon. Some of his best poetry came from this hard time in his life.

But before Gary Snyder there were the Davises. The nearby Davis Peak is named for Lucinda Davis, a single mother with three children who moved from Colorado into an abandoned cabin which she turned into a supply store for the busy mining areas of Thunder and Ruby creeks in the 1890’s. Lucinda and her son Glee made the first horse trail up to the summit of Sourdough where they would go for picnics. In 1915, Glee set up the first fire lookout site in the North Cascades on Sourdough. It was just a tent camp then before Glee built the first lookout structure in the cupola style of the time in 1917. The lookout stood watch until the 1930’s when it was replaced by a more modern style. This modern structure is the lookout that Gary Snyder would later man in 1953 and still stands today.

Things to Do Around a Lookout

Wrap up in a blanket in cold weather and just read

Practice writing Chinese characters with a brush

Paint pictures of the mountains

Put out salt for deer

Bake coffee cake and biscuit in the iron oven

-Excerpt from poem by Gary Snyder

I climbed for what seemed like all day through the ghost forest on Sourdough when I broke out into the high meadows. I was yet to see another person on the trail and I stopped in my tracks to gaze upon the glacial green Diablo Lake almost a mile below. The sitka valerian and spirea swayed softly in the wind as my skin soaked up the sun. I tore myself away with the promise of even more rewarding views at the lookout. Just as I crested the summit I passed a man and his son just starting their descent. “You made it all the way up here on your own?” he asked. “You bet I did,” I replied.

Riprap and Cold Mountain Poems by Gary Snyder

This is Gary’s first book of published poems and it is the one that made him famous. There are a few poems in the book about his time as a lookout and as a logger in Oregon, but most of the poems are about his time spent in the Sierra Nevada in California where he still lives today. His style is heavily influenced by the beautifully simplistic Japanese style and was a revolution in American poetry in it’s day. This collection is a wonderful example of his great nature poetry and makes a great addition to the outdoor book lover’s bookshelf.

Hikes Featured in this Post:
Sourdough Mountain

Outdoor Life

Hiking History: Mount Pilchuck

July 29, 2015July 30, 2018
by Ashley Gossens

If you ask a Seattlelite what their first mountain summit was, they will most likely say Mt Pilchuck. The road to the trailhead is just across the National Forest boundary about an hour from Seattle and the drive to the trailhead gets most of the pesky elevation out of the way making for a short and sweet hike with great views of the North Cascades.

Mt Pilchuck was first climbed in 1897 from the Monte Cristo railroad by a USGS employee. In 1918 a trail was built when the mountain was chosen as one of the first lookout sites in the area. Building the lookout was quite a feat in those days, twelve feet were blasted off the top of the mountain and materials were hand-winched up the craggy boulders. The lookout was replaced a few times throughout the years and finally abandoned in the 1960’s. The lookout was restored in 1990 by the Mountaineers. 105 people spent an astonishing 10,000 hours restoring the lookout.

We can thank an ambitious ski endeavor for the road that goes most of the way up the mountain. In 1957, Mt Pilchuck was turned into a ski area. The single chair lift loaded skiers at the parking lot (in the same place it’s located today) and carried them high on the mountain for only a few dollars a day. In 1980, the ski area closed due to lack of favorable snow conditions. You can still see remnants of the mountain’s ski era on the trail today.

In late August 2007 I took a day off work and my husband and I climbed to the lookout. It was our first summit in the Washington Cascades and will always have a special place in our hearts. I remember climbing the metal-runged ladder the last bit to the lookout building and signing the register with the exclamation “1st summit!” following our names. Nowadays I love taking my friends and new hikers to this gem of a hike right in our backyard.

More Info About Mt Pilchuck (with photos of the old ski area):
Fifty Years Ago at Mt. Pilchuck on Sun Breaks Blog
Lost Ski Areas of Washington: Mt Pilchuck

Hikes Featured in this Post:
Mt Pilchuck

Outdoor Life

Silver Star Mountain

July 2, 2015August 7, 2018
by Ashley Gossens

On July 4, 2013 as I was working on my 30 peaks by 30, I climbed up Silver Star Mountain. It seemed like an appropriate choice for the holiday and I was happy to see that the flowers were in full bloom for the occasion. The hike is not difficult and from the summit you can see Mt Adams and Mt St Helens. But as nice as the summit is, this trail is all about the flowers. Get lost along the many trails that wander this mountain and see how many red, white and blue flowers you can find.

Happy 4th of July!

Hikes Featured in this Post:
Silver Star Mountain

Outdoor Life

Mount St Helens Climb

February 25, 2015August 7, 2018
by Ashley Gossens

I awoke at 4am to the hooting of an owl. I was snuggled in my sleeping bag in our tent at Climber’s Bivouac, a small campsite at the beginning of the Mount St Helens climbing route. The apprehension of the last few days gave way to excitement as I rose and put on my headlamp. From now on the mountain was in charge. I recalled the previous day’s walking through the underground lava tubes of the nearby Ape Caves and reading interpretive signs of the destruction that took place here, pondering the potential of a mountain that could create such things.

I was not yet born when the news broke on May 18, 1980 of a massive eruption in the Pacific Northwest. The volcano was displaying the realities of it’s name, Loowit, meaning “smoking” or “fire” mountain by the Klickitat people. A landslide triggered by the explosive blast sent two-thirds of a cubic mile of mountain top hurtling into the valleys below. A mushroom cloud of ash towered above as hot mud and debris flowed downward, taking with it the living things in its way. In all, 57 people were killed, 250 homes and almost 200 miles of highway were destroyed along with 230 square miles of forest and countless animals. On that day the summit dropped from 9677 feet to 8365 feet and it’s beautiful cone replaced with a mile wide crater.

As the sun began to rise my husband and I climbed above treeline. The forest we passed through was not only recovering but thriving in the thirty years since the blast, surprising scientists who expected this process to be very slow. But as we continued onto the rocky ridge, the moon-like appearance and ash on our boots reminded us that this is still a mighty volcano. The sun beat down on us from the cloudless August sky above and I imagine the unthinkable heat that formed the young rocks around me. We continue straight up the sandy ash, one step forward, two steps back, finally gaining the crater rim.

Standing at the top of the crater rim one cannot deny the fragility of life. Here we are, tiny vulnerable specks on this mass of a mountain. Yet this mighty dome has been weakened, it’s thousand foot top torn away in an instant. To stand on the crumbling rim looking out into the crater is to observe the incomprehensible power of this planet we call home. I am humbled while gazing upon the hardened mudflows of decades ago and the ghostly waterlogged carcasses of 500 year old trees still drifting like toothpicks in eerie Spirit Lake.

But ultimately this story is one of renewal and restoration. Mount St Helens is rejuvenating itself with fresh forest and wilderness, making room for new species of plants and animals to thrive and providing nutrients to the soil of the valleys that nurture our gardens and agriculture. In the decades to come this mountain ecosystem will become more lush and diverse than it was before. This same principle applies to life: change is essential. And it’s how we navigate these times in our lives that make us the people we are. Like the ever changing mountains we must be adaptable and resilient to change. We can choose to resist or we can embrace it and in the process allow ourselves to renew and grow into better people.

Find out more about Mount St Helens:

Climbing and Permit Information

Mount St Helens Institute

Mount St Helens VolcanoCam

National Geographic Gallery

In the Blast Zone edited by Charles Goodrich, Kathleen Dean Moore and Frederick J. Swanson

This post was very much inspired by this wonderful collection of essays and poems about Mt St Helens. In 2005, a group of scientists, writers and poets embarked on a 4-day trip to discuss, observe and ponder the changes happening to the mountain inspiring the writings collected here. I consider this essential reading for anyone considering visiting St Helens for the first time or those who have been visiting it for years.

Hikes Featured in this Post:

Monitor Ridge, Mt St Helens, WA

Ape Caves, Mt St Helens, WA

Outdoor Life

Backpacking Chugach: Part 2

February 11, 2015August 7, 2018
by Ashley Gossens

When we discovered our food stash had been raided by ground squirrels we panicked a little. But after taking inventory of our remaining stock we found we had enough meals to continue with no extras and little to snack on. We were thankful that we threw in some emergency ramen noodles when we packed. We spent our second night just below Ship Lake Pass relieved that we could continue.

The next day we wanted to climb a couple peaks before continuing on to the next camp. The Ramp and the Wedge rise above either side of Ship Lake Pass. We started with the Ramp, the higher of the two, and then traversed over to the Wedge like traveling from the horn to the cantle of a saddle. Ship Lake glittered below us like an aqua bike seat shaped jewel. Clouds clung to the tops of the high peaks around us saturating the vibrant green of the valley below.

Our destination for the day was Deep Lake in the next valley parallel to us. We could follow the trail back down the way we came and then climb up to a pass and up the Ball Park to Deep Lake or we could stay up high and traverse the scree around O’Malley Peak to meet up with the trail at the pass. We were hesitant to walk back down and then up another steep climb so we decided to off-road it in the alpine for a shortcut. Anyway, it didn’t look far to the pass.

Looks can be deceiving in Alaska. Things that look close are actually quite far, slopes that look gentle end up steep, rock that looks solid from afar can end up being unstable. I was cursing this land as I took two steps in the scree only to slide down three. Meanwhile the bottoms of my feet felt like they were being sheared off and my ankles ached from traveling perpendicular to a steeply sloped mountain for hours. We gingerly circumnavigated massive boulders in the scree. It was slow going to say the least. We didn’t get to the pass until early evening. I praised the joys of a level trail on my aching feet as we climbed the gradual trail through the Ball Park to Deep Lake. That night we longed for that extra food we lost to the squirrels. We made a list of all the food we could eat: pizza, burgers, snickers and faded to sleep.

On the fourth day we left our base camp at Deep Lake and took a day hike to the Walliwaw Lakes. We made our way to another pass and descended to Black Lake, a good description for this dark water lake. As we were walking down from the pass we saw some black dots moving above us. We took out the binoculars and watched two wolverines chasing each other in the snow.

Then we explored the Williwaw Lakes. The chain of picturesque lakes is nestled at the feet of colorful mountains. The lakes had a top layer of crystal clear water and below they were a pure blue. It was as if glacial silt had settled to the bottom of the lake and stayed undisturbed for millennia.

We returned for another night at Deep Lake (which should really be called lake in a deep, steep hole) and the next day returned to the busy trailhead. As we arrived some clean tourists were looking at something excitedly through the binoculars. A bear! they exclaimed. We laughed and exchanged knowing glances. We knew that the real threat out there was those darn ground squirrels. We got a ride back to town from a nice man and his young son and finally got the pizza we were craving at Moose’s Tooth.

It was quite an adventure for our first backpacking trip. We prepared the best we could- we studied the map, brought bear spray and extra food, but still there were issues unexpected. I don’t regret anything we did on this trip but rather remember it as creating an important foundation for life in the outdoors. I know I must take risks, make mistakes and learn in order to make myself a better person, both in outdoor endeavors and in life.

chugach_route — Our route in yellow (the dashed line is our approximate off-trail route), map from http://dnr.alaska.gov.

Chugach State Park: Alaska’s Backyard Wilderness by Bill Sherwonit with photos by Carl Battreall

If you have ever flown into the Anchorage International Airport then you’ve probably flown over Chugach State Park. Although these mountains dominate the skyline of the most populated city in Alaska, they are often overlooked by tourists. They are predominately visited by locals and few have witnessed the most remote parts of the park. This book shows off the beauties of this area over all four seasons, highlighting just some of the stunning scenery, plants, and wildlife in the park. I picked up this book in a tiny bookstore in Anchorage just after our backpack trip, it is now a treasured part of my book collection. Click on the title link above to see a slideshow of some of the photos in the book. You can also purchase a signed hardback version of the book on the website.

The great Alaskan photographer Carl Battreall is currently working on an ambitious project to document the entire Alaska Range for a large format photo book which has never been done before. You can see his photos and follow his story on his blog, The Alaska Range Project.

Hikes Featured in this Post:

Chugach State Park, AK