Book Club

The Long Path to Wisdom

In August we celebrated our beloved book club member, Mala, and her Burmese heritage. Mala first joined the book club at our camping outing last July at Mount Rainier. We had just met her but she immediately took over Laura’s camp cooking and took care of us like we were her own. If you know Mala, you know that she is up for anything and will take on any challenge that we plan for the book club. But mostly you will know her for her endless compassion and gratitude.

We chose to read The Long Path to Wisdom, a book of collected fairy tales set in Burma and spent the day at Laura’s cabin. We started, though, with a leisurely walk around Gold Creek Pond. The first thing we noticed was an abundance of goldenrod, the rich color of turmeric. The clear pond reflected the blue of the sky and the surrounding mountains.

We returned to the cabin and got a firsthand lesson of Burma from Mala. She showed us some videos of her favorite places to visit including the natural wonder of Golden Rock, a huge boulder perched on the precipice of a cliff. A tiny golden pagoda was built on top in some kind of unimaginable feat.

In true Mala fashion, we feasted on Burmese food that she made for us. The first was an “everything” salad, where pretty much anything is chopped up into tiny pieces and mixed with delicious spices and a little fish sauce. The base is caramelized onions which filled the cabin with a comforting smell and cilantro and turmeric brightened it up. Delicious!

Next we talked about the folk tales in the book while savoring our next course of Burmese chicken noodle soup. The stories in the book felt familiar, similar to stories we’ve heard growing up like Cinderella, Paul Bunyan and even biblical stories like Noah’s flood and David vs Goliath. But these stories featured elephants, monkeys, tigers, and Banyan trees. The author points out though, that though the characters may be different, these stories carry the same themes of folk tales from around the world: Love. Faith. Greed. Trust. Betrayal. Forgiveness

One thing is certain: The following pages represent a journey into another world, a world sometimes alien, sometimes quite familiar. As authors we have learned from this project that – all cultural and historical differences aside, all exoticism and foreigness notwithstanding – there is much more binding people of the world together than keeping them apart.

Jan-Philipp Senker, The Long Path to Wisdom (Preface)

Laura, Mala and I read our favorite stories out loud. Mala told us about growing up in Burma. She recalled her mother making special food for the monks as they would come around for their alms. She told us how the Burmese people are very superstitious and find meaning in everything, including the day of the week you were born. She even had a book to look up what day of the week you were born on. We patiently waited for her to tell us which animal we were and what it meant.

I have to say that when I started the book club I never imagined doing something like this. It was so much fun to learn about Mala’s cultural upbringing and to get a little slice of her life. I am so proud of our group and their willingness to read and learn and be open and welcoming to everyone. I feel so lucky to have these women in my life.

The Long Path to Wisdom by Jan-Philipp Sendker

Book Ends

Book Club Archive

Outdoor Life

Morels & Gold Creek Pond

Early in the summer, Evie, my husband and I got to spend the weekend with my pals Laura and Ingunn and their families too. We met at Laura’s cabin near Snoqualmie Pass and huddled around a map that felt very much like a treasure map. We were looking for treasure of the fungi variety. We picked a spot, made a plan, geared up and headed out.

Evie was so excited to hang out with her mushroom-hunting friends for her first foray. They started out great- identifying mushrooms, pointing to them and yelling. It was effective in getting our attention, but the identification skills were a bit lacking, at least for Evie. None of the mushrooms she found were edible and a few pine cones even found there way in there.

We split up and worked our way through the woods. We found areas of disturbance that seemed ripe for morels, but we didn’t have any luck. Finally, as we all met back on the forest road, I spotted one right next to the road on an old leaf pile. Then we found another. It seemed that the best place to look was not deep in the woods, but rather in the unlikeliest spot. We scrounged up a handful along the way. Not enough for a feast, but perhaps enough for a fancy snack.

On the way back down the mountain we stopped to frolic in lupine and balsamroot and to try our luck at more morel spotting. We didn’t add to our stash but we did find an animal skull. We all gathered around it for inspection. Our best guess was that it was a fox skull. We left it on top of a tree stump like a sort of talisman and hoped for better luck next time.

Back at the cabin we settled in around the campfire for s’mores and stick bread. I set up our gatherings to take some photos and I found, of all things, a perfect little morel under the wooden bench. Of course this spurred a thorough search of the area for more, but there was only one.

My husband couldn’t stay the night, and the next day the group headed out farther for another foray (I later learned that they found lots more morels). I decided to head home with Evie and Nali instead and on the way stopped for a walk around Gold Creek Pond. I had high hopes that Evie could even walk the whole one mile on her own.

To my utter delight, she did! I’ll admit that I shamelessly bribed her with a “special treat” if she walked the whole way. It totally worked. On the way home we stopped for a strawberry milkshake to share. It was the first trail she hiked all on her own, her first strawberry shake, and her first mushroom foray. A special weekend for sure!

The Way Through the Woods by Long Litt Woon

Long Litt Woon moved to Norway from her home in Malaysia at age 18 for school. There she met her Norwegian husband and settled down. But when her husband dies suddenly in an accident, she looks for something to fill the newly opened gap in her life. She devotes herself to mushrooms by learning everything she can about them. She joined mushroom societies and became an expert in edible mushroom hunting. There is a huge culture of mushroom hunting in Norway and I learned so much about mushrooms from this book. Ultimately, Long seeks a distraction from her loss but she ends up gaining a supportive community along the way.

Outdoor Life

Larch March to Blue Lake

I am worse than my nearly two-year-old. She smiles right to me as she climbs up the stove and I pull her down and say no for the millionth time. She’ll make perfect eye contact and touch something she’s not supposed to touch, putting just one finger on an item and then looking to me for approval. I give her my disapproving mom look for the trillionth time. Like her, I push and push at boundaries compulsively without seeming to learn a lesson. I find the limits of myself and my daughter and then I inch up against them, just just to make sure we can’t squeeze out a tiny bit more. This is how I once again found myself alone in the middle of the trail with a screaming toddler wondering why I keep doing this to myself. And then I did something I’ve never done before.

The forecast called for blue skies. When this happens on an October weekend day, it simply must be taken advantage of. I’ve been itching to see some larch and I knew this weekend would be my best, if not last, opportunity before the fall rain comes. I decided to take Evie up to the North Cascades, a good 3 hour drive from our house, to a short trail filled with brilliant larch. I had the genius idea to wake Evie up before dawn and slip her into the car seat where she would go back to sleep while I drove. She didn’t go back to sleep. So I gave her snacks and entertained her as much as I could on the long drive. She did really well until the last 20 minutes or so when she finally had enough. She cried until I pulled into the trailhead and looked back to tell her we’ve arrived. She was fast asleep.

I woke her up and gave her more snacks with the promise of adventure and golden trees. She seemed up for it and padded down the trail pointing at rocks and trees. Though the sun was out, there was frost on the ground and I showed her how the iced-over puddles crackle when you step on them. She was doing great and I had high hopes that she would walk far on her own. She didn’t. She walked a little ways and then asked me to pick her up. I asked if she wanted to get in the backpack and she said yeah. With her in the pack I hustled along to cover some ground until she changed her mind and wanted down. I let her down but then she wanted up, but not in the backpack. I held her in my arms and walked a little but told her that I couldn’t carry her like that the whole way. Then she had a full on meltdown while I cycled between putting her in the pack, carrying her in my arms, and letting her walk. Then I gave up and just sat with her for a while, trying to console her and making sure she was warm in the cold shade of the trees.

This seemed to work and we walked a little ways more. Then she started crying again just as we passed someone who said we were close to an open area with sun. I picked her up and walked to the sun, promising a break and a snack. Sure enough, we found the sun and some lovely views and even a log to sit on. I gave Evie her lunch and we watched people and dogs pass us by. We were not even a mile up the trail. I coaxed her along offering her more peanut butter and jelly sandwich on the way. Then she would hunker down and sit to eat her sandwich at a snail’s pace. Each time I took a deep breath, summoning patience. It’s the journey, not the destination. It’s the journey, not the destination. I repeated this mantra, pushing out the counter thought: did I drive us all the way up here for nothing?

It was only two miles to the lake and three hours had gone by now. I kept thinking we had to be getting close. If I could just get Evie in the pack we would be up there in no time. I decided that I just needed to get her into the pack. I filled her up with even more food and changed her diaper and then told her how we could see the golden trees and the big mountains and the pretty lake if she got into the pack. She refused. I began to worry. We were a ways up the trail and it was getting late in the day. I was going to have to get her in the pack eventually to get back down the trail. That’s when I planted the pack right in the middle of the trail and decided she was going in no matter what. Of course there were hikers going by from both directions that got to witness the lovely sight of me forcing my screaming child into a pack. I waved them around us and they gave me sad looks. A couple with their young kid came along and gave me some words of encouragement and then I did the thing I never do. I asked how much further it was to the lake. They looked at each other with a gaze that I recognized. They said, “oh man, you’re getting there. You’re doing great!” This was hiker code for, “oh man, this lady doesn’t know what she’s gotten herself into, poor thing.”

I finally got Evie in the pack and decided that I’d hike five more minutes up the trail. If she was still crying and screaming, I’d turn around and go back to the trailhead. If she stopped, I’d keep going to the lake. I walked for about 2 minutes and she was quiet. I glanced back and her head was hanging down, fast asleep. I hiked just a few minutes more into the magic of the golden larch and spectacular views all around. The larch gods blessed me with this quiet time all to myself the short way to the lake. I relished in it. I didn’t linger long at the lake though, and as I started back down the trail I felt guilty for being so happy that Evie was asleep. She was missing out on the best part, all that I had promised her.

Just before we left the larch forest and views, though, she woke up. She exclaimed whoa! and wow! as I pointed to the golden trees and pretty mountains around us. I let her touch the soft needles of the larch and she mimicked my enthusiasm. Pretty mountains and trees! she said in her tiny little voice. All of the worry, hesitation, and impatience I felt earlier melted away completely. Then she said, sing, mama!  So I sang. The ants go marching through the larch, hurrah, hurrah.

Maybe one day I’ll learn my lesson and find our limits. But until then I’ll keep pushing. Just a tiny bit.

 

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

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

Pregnant in the Wild

When I found out in the spring that I was pregnant, the first thing I did was calculate my due date. The second thing I did was calculate how pregnant I would be in August. I had plans. I had a long list of hikes and mountains to climb this summer, including a multi-day backpacking trip complete with a summit of Mt Adams. But I would be 5 months pregnant in August. I naively thought perhaps these things were still possible. 

As the snow melted and trails opened up for the summer, it was clear that my hiking days would be limited. After a few months spent doing nothing but napping, I returned to outdoor life. But I was completely out of shape and out of breath on even the easiest of trails. Well, if I wasn’t going to climb a volcano while pregnant I at least wanted to do something besides hobble down an easy trail without passing out. I decided that I would try backpacking.

This was not an immediate decision and I went back and forth about it over and over again. Would it be comfortable sleeping on the ground? How much weight could I carry in addition to my growing belly? And of course, most importantly, was I going to hurt my baby? After doing some research, I decided that I could do it as long as I didn’t carry much more than I normally carried on a day trip. That wouldn’t be possible with just me and my husband, but luckily, we had some family coming to town who offered to carry the extra weight.

We set out on a hot August morning on the road to Mt Baker. We chose to hike up to Twin Lakes since it was an easy road hike and people would be car camping up there so we could get a ride down if we needed it. That gave me some peace of mind. It was also a short climb with stunning views and we could visit one of my favorite lookouts on Winchester Mountain.

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I shouldered my backpack and felt comforted by its heft. I knew I could take more but I let the others carry my weight. I would have to get used to this. I’m not accustomed to letting others help me and I know I have to let go of the urge to prove I’m strong by imposing unneeded suffering on myself. This just seems like an unhealthy parenting style to me and anyways, I don’t have just me to think about anymore, but my little growing baby too. I let it go.

As I trudged up the road at a snails pace and sweating buckets, I was instantly grateful for my light pack and for my husband who hiked slowly with me. I thought about giving birth and how it was going to be infinitely harder than this. I told my husband that when that time comes and I’m struggling, to gently remind me that at least there are not swarms of black flies in the birthing suite trying to eat my flesh. I vow to keep all things in proper perspective.

It wasn’t too long before we reached the lakes and had lunch. We found perhaps one of the best campsites in all the North Cascades and set up camp. We wandered back down to the lake and dipped our toes in the ice cold water. It felt so good. I found the most comfortable patch of grass and laid my head on a smooth rock and took a nap with Nali curled up at my feet. That night we cooked up some delicious food and played Yahtzee until the sun set and we had to use our headlamps. Before we went to sleep my husband and I snuggled on a blanket and watched the stars come out. 

The next day we trekked up to the lookout on Winchester Mountain. I had no pack this time but I was still incredibly slow. Young couples glided past me and I envied their normal-sized bodies and their infinite energy. A few fit young moms carrying their toddlers on their backs passed me and I thought it insane that a body can go from this to that and decided there is no way that my body will ever do that. I decided to just not think about it and have a snack instead. Pregnancy is humbling in so many ways…

I used the following day to rest while the others went to hunt for mines. I took out my sleeping pad and sleeping bag and piled all the soft things I could find up at the top to prop myself up. The air had just a hint of coolness that made it the perfect temperature to put on my beanie and lay in my sleeping bag and read. I was reading about mindfulness. I read through the body scan meditation and really felt every sensation happening to and around me. I don’t think I’ve ever been more relaxed than I was right there snuggled in my bag, Nali curled up next to me with nothing else in view but mountains.

I thought about getting up to grab my camera or phone to take a picture so I could remember that moment forever. But I knew if I got up the spell would be broken. Instead I took a moment to commit it all to memory. The contours of the peaks on the horizon, the waving evergreen limbs of the trees, the hum of the bees buzzing in the wildflowers nearby. It’s all in my head now, there to recall whenever I need it. When the pain comes, this will be my happy place.

 

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Mindful Birthing by Nancy Bardacke

This is the mindfulness book that I was reading on this backpacking trip. I really recommend it for anyone who is pregnant and anxious about the birth. Bardacke teaches meditation to prepare the body and mind for relaxation during the birthing process. This is a whole new way to think about pain and endurance. The jury is still out for me on whether it works or not, but I know that it has already helped to calm my worried mind in preparation for birth and I can only hope that it helps someone else as well.

 

 

 

 

Hikes Featured in this Post:

Winchester Mountain

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Book Club

Phenomena

It’s hard to go into the woods the same way after reading Phenomenal. Every leaf, chirp and rain drop seems like a force of nature, like if I pay attention enough I might feel the earth speaking to me through the souls of my boots, or hear the cloud’s thoughts through a pattern of raindrops. It’s hard to not get the overwhelming feeling that everything is connected, intertwined, full of meaning. There may not be phenomena, per say, on the Barclay Lake Trail, but on this day, everything felt special.

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Our small group set off through the dark forest under the cover of hemlock and cedar. As always, we caught up with each other, what adventures we’ve been on, what good books we’ve read, and our upcoming summer plans. We drew up our hoods as the rain became more steady and hopped the growing puddles.

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Mist shrouded the outlying mountains and all we could see were trees disappearing into the distance. We came to sense a pattern on the trail of trees taking root in the most unlikely of places. Hundred-foot-tall trees sprouted atop giant boulders, their roots exposed and vulnerable, yet they thrive. If the trail had a phenomena, this was it.

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We soon crossed a creek on a log bridge complete with hand rail. The crystal clear water babbled below and I wondered what it was saying. Perhaps it was telling us of its journey from glacier to sea, where it’s been and where it’s going. Or maybe it was just singing to the rocks below thanking them for their strength and navigation.

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As we approached the lake I anticipated some recognition of it. I’d been here before, a long time ago. Laura wondered if she had been here before too, when she was a kid with her dad. He works for the Forest Service and had taken her to seemingly all the lakes in the Cascades, but this one she did not recognize, she said. I didn’t recognize it either, yet I know for a fact I’ve been there. I have a spreadsheet that tells me the exact date and who I was with. Yet, I scour for a familiar rock or lake shore and everything tells me I’ve never seen it before. Maybe it’s changed over the years, or maybe I’ve changed and see things differently now that I’m older and (hopefully) wiser.

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We found a somewhat covered area on the lake shore to have lunch and discuss the book. Each chapter of Phenomenal is about each of the phenomena that Leigh Ann Henion traveled the world to see. We all chose a favorite (mine was the chapter about Hawaii) and if we could choose one of the phenomena to experience, which would it be (most chose the Northern Lights or the bioluminescence). Finally, we shared our stories of phenomena we had witnessed in our lives or hoped to see one day.

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I was thrilled that everyone in the group enjoyed the book because it is one of my very favorite books and has a special place on my bookshelf. Its one of those books that you almost don’t want to share with anyone else because you’re afraid they won’t like it and then it will be a tiny bit ruined for you. But I was really excited to share it with the group and I knew they would all enjoy it. And they did, which made me very happy!

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On the way out, we stopped to admire a blanket of false lily-of-the-valley along the trail. I imagined the little green hearts working together in unison to pump life into the forest floor. There was a lone white bunchberry flower rising up amid the lily leaves seemingly declaring its intention to be different. I admired its confidence. Then I wondered what it looks like under the earth with all those roots like the arteries in our bodies. Oh, to walk through the forest with the sense of wonder given to me by this wonderful (you may even say phenomenal) book!

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Phenomenal by Leigh Ann Henion

 

Book Ends

 

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Outdoor Life

A Birthday on Glacier Peak

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

 

indexDaring 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

Backpacking Chugach: Part 2

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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

 

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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.

 

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Chugach State Park, AK

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