Road Trip

Eastern Oregon: Part 3

Day 5: Kimberly to Maupin

From Kimberly, we headed south following the John Day River. It was early in the morning and cold and cloudy. Light precipitation saturated the rainbow-colored hills: red, yellow, blue. As if in an effort to stifle the color, snow dusted the tops of the hills. We pulled into the small, deserted Blue Basin parking area in the John Day Fossil Beds National Monument and got out to take a look around. My husband carried Evie and I skipped ahead to snap photos. I crossed a little bridge and my jaw dropped. I couldn’t believe my eyes. A tiny ribbon of water meandered below. The water was the most brilliant milky turquoise blue.

I was blown away years ago when I visited the nearby Painted Hills and I was most excited to see more of the John Day Fossil Bed area on this trip. I didn’t think it could get much better than those striped hills, but Blue Basin after the rain exceeded all of my expectations.  As we walked farther, you could see where the earth had eroded down into the namesake’s blue bowl. The jagged edges seemed to calve with the messiness and brilliant blue of glaciers. It was so quiet, no sign of life in any direction. We just stood and stared and wondered how we got to this alternate universe.

As we drove a little farther, we found a sign of civilization. The enormous white house and barn spread out on lush green grass seemed out of place against the arid backdrop of sagebrush and pine. We found that we had stumbled upon the Cant Ranch, established in the early 1900’s by James and Elizabeth Cant. They had come from Scotland and acquired the land through the Homestead Act. They raised cattle and sheep to supply the nearby mining villages and grew crops to sustain them and the animals thanks to the John Day River that ran wide and lazy through the property. After the Cants died in the 1970’s, the building became the National Park Headquarters and an interpretive center. It was closed while we were there, but a sign invited us to walk along a short trail to see the grounds and the towering Sheep Rock across the river.

We lingered for a bit and then headed across the road to the Paleontology Center. The center was full of fossils found in the area and renditions of the kind of life that lived in this bizarre locale millions of years ago. My favorites were perfectly preserved ferns and leaves. It was comforting to recognize them, to know they have flourished so long in this world. In the lobby, we watched video monitors of scientists studying fossils in real time. I picked up a National Parks passport for Evie and a bright futuristic postcard beckoning visitors back in August 2017 to watch the total solar eclipse. I thought what an ideally strange place to watch an equally strange phenomena.

Next, we headed to the old mining town of Mitchell to see if we could find something to eat. We found a promising cafe on the way to town but as we pulled into the parking lot, we noticed something seemed a little off. A woman with gray hair and an apron fussed with the cash register as I asked her if they were open. She said, sure, honey, we’re open. We just don’t have any electricity at the moment. I asked her how long they’ve been without power and she said all morning. I broke the news to my husband and we continued driving through town to see if there were any other options. In less than two minutes, we were through town and it appeared that the entire place was without power. People were standing outside just looking around like the sky may have answers. This place is weird, I told my husband. He gave me an mmm hmmm in agreement. We snacked on what we had in the car and moved on.

Our next stop was my beloved Painted Hills. I couldn’t wait to show my husband and Evie this place and enjoy it without the stifling heat that accompanied Nali and I on our first visit. We drove the long dirt road through ranch land as I kept repeating, just wait, it gets better! over and over. We parked among the dusty vans with plates from all over the country and I smiled with glee. I love it here so much! became my new mantra. My even-keeled husband seemed to enjoy it despite the impossibility of the place living up to all my accolades. He was used to my drama by now. Evie’s sharp little eyes surveyed with laser focus, but she too seemed to be becoming immune to my enthusiasm as she didn’t mutter a peep. It was ok, I was in my happy place.

We headed to the Painted Cove trail with its mounds of sculpted red clay. Here, the water ran orange as it braided itself to lower ground. The cloud ceiling was beginning to break and the deep blue sky emerged along with some sunshine. I lingered, I absorbed, I soaked it all up, not wanting the short trail, the trip, the sunshine to end.

We drove on. We took a back road through a gorgeous canyon that we couldn’t believe wasn’t a famous National Park or something. Tiny homesteads crumbled next to modern cabins and houses and we wondered if the originals had been there since the Homestead Act and the land passed down through generations. Occasionally a ghost town would appear out of nowhere and I’d check the map. Antelope, Shaniko, Bakeoven. We stopped to get some beef jerky and popcorn and I picked a homemade magnet that says, I’ve been to Fossil, Oregon with a picture of a triceratops.

We drove all the way to Maupin, a small town (which seemed like a sprawling city to us at this point) at the bottom of a steep canyon and snuggled into a bend of the Deschutes River. We found a city park jam packed with RV’s but it had a strip of grass they let us tent campers have for the night. We found a decent restaurant that catered to the tourists coming to raft the river and had a table outside that we could sit at with Nali and a messy baby. As the day turned to evening, we watched a rafting crew get ready for a trip down the river.

Day 6: Maupin to Seattle

We had been on the road for 5 days and it seemed like a lifetime, and I mean that in the best way. We had developed a routine and it seemed Evie was loving, or at least tolerating, all the travel. But alas, it was time to return to Seattle. It was a beautiful bluebird day, the warmth and sun finally arrived just as we were leaving. We decided to take advantage of it and drove up to Mount Hood. We showed Evie the Timberline Lodge and I scribbled one last postcard and dropped it in the mailbox in the lobby. I gave Evie a kiss and told her we would return when she was older.

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Road Trip

Eastern Oregon: Part 2

Day 3: Joseph to Hells Canyon

Our next destination was Hells Canyon along the Snake River on the Oregon – Idaho border. We were hoping to drive through the Wallowa Mountains to get there, but the rangers in Joseph told us that the snow was lingering longer than usual on the high altitude roads, so we would have to drive around. So we headed back the way we came and then went south to La Grande and took the back roads to Halfway. This tiny western town was named so because it is located halfway between Cornucopia and Pine, in other words, halfway between nowhere and nowhere. We found some information about Cornucopia, a ghost town in the foothills of the Wallowas, and decided to go check it out.

The road to Cornucopia was unpaved, but in good shape. The name of the town eludes to the amount of gold found there. It was said that the area held the largest gold ore body in the Pacific Northwest, even possibly the United States. There was a bit more going on there than we expected. There were several small cabins and some old run-down larger structures, but the cabins seemed like they still got some use. We drove as far as we could until the road was covered in a winter’s worth of snow. The heavy mining activity was evidenced by heaping mounds of tailings along the shoulders of the creek. This was something we would see much more of on our trip in the coming days.

From there, we backtracked to Halfway and then headed northeast along the Snake River to Idaho. The highway hugged beautiful canyons as we approached the river. And then, in a tiny town called Oxbow, we unceremoniously crossed the Snake into Idaho. We knew this area to be one of the most remote places in the US. Only three roads even got close to the canyon and no other roads crossed the river. We saw only a handful of people on the 22 mile road to Hells Canyon Dam. We found a campground that appeared to just be some dirt tracks with a few flat areas for camping. They did have some nice toilets which I fully appreciated. There wasn’t any accessible water, though, so Evie and I set up camp while my husband drove back to get some water.

While he was gone I heard a truck come from another direction and stop below us. They turned up their music, it was Pink Floyd. I have to say it was a bit of a trip to be there with just Evie while hearing, hello, hello, hello? Is there anybody in there? With no other evidence of life around us whatsoever. It was like we were in a movie with a soundtrack. My husband returned and we made some dinner and read pamphlets about the Snake River dams to Evie before bedtime.  While she slept, we took our sleeping bags out and watched the sun set. The stars started to appear and I waited to see a spectacular show, but a haze moved in. I settled for a handful of shooting stars.

Day 4: Hells Canyon to Kimberly

The next morning we woke up to what sounded like turkeys. It was sprinkling rain. We had some oatmeal breakfast and then headed farther into the canyon toward the dam. We saw some turkeys on the road just after we left the campground which solved that mystery. The canyon was much more green than I expected, probably only because it was May. The walls of the canyon were tinted sage green, the color of lichen. They plunged into the depths of the river and we couldn’t fathom how you could get down into the canyon from the top. It seems impossible.

We reached the Hells Canyon Dam and drove across it, stopping to look over the edge as the water rushed to freedom. From here, the river regained some of its wildness and remoteness. We were now back in Oregon as we drove to the end of the road which terminates at a visitor center. It was closed and seemingly abandoned as there were no other cars or people. We walked down a little bit into the canyon, beads of mist gathered on our hair.

The chilly rain persuaded us to move along and hit the road again. We enjoyed one last drive back down through the canyon before we headed toward Baker City. Once there we stopped for a break and had lunch at the Lone Pine Café, where I had another incredible meal that has to be one of my favorites of all time. While we devoured our food we scoured the map to determine our route for the day. We planned a short side trip to the old mining town of Sumpter complete with saloon and abandoned dredge.

As we headed into the mountains from Sumpter, we encountered a snow storm again. We drove up over a pass through a forest of trees and then all of the sudden the road just flattened into straight nothingness. No trees or hills, just a few chilly cows. We were on some kind of plateau in the middle of nowhere. Eventually we reached the tiny town of Long Creek where we stopped for some gas and food. We walked into the one store in town and got some looks. I have a feeling this town does not have a booming tourist business.

Eventually things started looking normal again and the snow let up only to be replaced with pouring rain. The wind was howling too as we winded along the John Day river.  We found a tiny campground on BLM land outside of Kimberly and set up camp in the rain and wind. My husband set up the tent and then Evie and I took shelter and set up the inside. Our new tent was standing up well to the wind so far. Once we got everything set up and ate a cold supper, the rain stopped and the sky cleared to reveal the top of the mountain directly across the river from us.

 

 

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Road Trip

Eastern Oregon: Part 1

Day 1: Seattle to Not Quite Oregon

After driving all over Yakima looking for gas and a decent restaurant, we were finally sitting and eating at a crowded Bob’s Burgers. It was about two in the afternoon and we were not very far from Seattle. We were hoping to make it to Pendleton and find a campground, but as we looked at the map we decided we wouldn’t make it there for the night. Instead we frantically searched the web for campgrounds nearby, calling and getting news that they were full.

When my husband had the idea to go for a family road trip to eastern Oregon I thought it sounded great, but I didn’t want to do any planning. Evie was only 5 months old and neither of us really had the energy. So we decided to wing it. We came up with a general route and decided we would find campsites as we needed them. I’m not really a wing-it kind of gal and I have to admit I was a little worried sitting there at Bob’s.

We found a possible lead on a campsite farther south so we drove on. Stormy weather taunted us directly ahead. Close to the Washington – Oregon border we saw a sign along the road for a campground and decided to check it out. It was situated along the north bank of the Columbia River. It was really an RV park, but the nice lady at the booth offered us a spot on the open grass. We happily took it and were the only ones there with a tent.

We set up our brand new (!) luxurious four-person tent and spread out everything inside. It easily fit our two sleeping bags, a blanket for Nali to sleep on, Evie’s carseat, multiple bags of stuff, and even a little diaper changing station. Evie sat happily in her bumbo watching as we set up camp. As the sun began to set, it was clear that the storms had missed us and it was all blue skies. The springtime light filtered through the trees and lit up the white puffs of dandelions. Things were looking up.

Day 2: Not Quite Oregon to Joseph

Just a few minutes after leaving the campsite we were across the bridge and officially in Oregon. Pendleton was our next stop and the Woolen Mill was first on our list. We browsed the colorful flannels and blankets in what seemed like a museum of cabin coziness. We bought WAY too many blankets, but like I always say, there’s no such thing as too many blankets. Next, we headed downtown to the historic Hamley’s & Co, makers of world-famous saddles since 1883. From the outside, it looked like a tourist trap, but as soon as we walked in, it was obvious that this place is legit. The brick interior two-story store was packed with every kind of fine leather good and adorned with massive bronze statues of bucking broncos. To top it off, they had an entire room full of saddles and gear. It was quite impressive.

For lunch, we stumbled upon the Main Street Diner, complete with checkered floor and fantastic food. I had a club sandwich (my diner go-to) and a strawberry shake and I think they were both the best I’ve ever had. I took half of my sandwich to go and this made a wonderful road snack later. On the way out of town we stopped by the post office to mail home a postcard I picked up in Hamley’s. I wanted to send Evie a postcard from the road each day recounting the highlights.

Our next destination was Joseph, a small town nestled in the Wallowa Mountains. Instead of taking the most direct route, we headed northeast through the Blue Mountains. The name is a bit misleading because these mountains are full of green- ponderosa, juniper and larch dominated the landscape. As we climbed higher and higher into the Blues, we watched the temperature drop. We saw some rain clouds hovering over the peaks as we approached the mountains from Pendleton, and now we were in them. But it wasn’t raining, it was snowing, hard.

Giant snowflakes filled the sky and covered the ground. It was mid-May, in eastern Oregon. It was supposed to be warm, not snowing! We embraced the unexpected weather and stopped and got out of the car. I immediately stuck my tongue out to catch snowflakes and yelled at Evie to look! look! I don’t think she fully appreciated the impromptu blizzard. We continued on. Once through the Blues, the landscape flattened to rolling green hills. Soon enough the Wallowas were in view and we arrived in Joseph.

Joseph and Lake Wallowa was originally home to Chief Joseph and the Nez Perce tribe. The land was promised to them in an 1855 treaty until gold was discovered. The miners and Native Americans clashed until there were negotiations for a new treaty to shrink the boundaries of the reservation. The Nez Perce refused to sign and this eventually turned into war. In the end, Chief Joseph moved his people away from the area instead of living in the confines of the reservation. After his surrender, the government took the land and allowed it to be settled. Chief Joseph and the Nez Perce were banished from their homeland. The town was later named after Chief Joseph and we visited a memorial in his honor on the north side of the lake. This serves as a reminder of the injustices many Native Americans faced.

We had intended to camp, but it was much colder than we anticipated and it was forecasted to get down into the 20’s at night. We opted instead to rent a room at the south end of Wallowa Lake. We settled in and then bundled Evie up and walked to Wallowa Lake State Park. As we walked, deer appeared around us, seemingly following us. We walked out onto the shoreline and watched the sun set until we could no longer stand the cold. Later, I woke up in the middle of the night and walked outside to get some air. I swear I could see every single star in the sky.

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Book Club

H is for Hawk, E is for Eagle Owl

Our February book club outing got us up close and personal with the subject of the month’s book, H is for Hawk. We met John the Falconer, who introduced us to a Saker Falcon named Benedict and an Eagle Owl named Lady Bird. John ushered us inside to gather around the fireplace while he brought out Benny and talked about the history of falconry and how it works. Looking at Benny, I couldn’t help but think of Helen’s description of her Goshawk, Mabel.

In the half-light through the drawn curtains she sits on her perch, relaxed, hooded, extraordinary. Formidable talons, wicked, curved black beak, sleek, cafe-au-lait front streaked thickly with cocoa-coloured teardrops, looking for all the world like some cappuccino samurai.

 

Falconry is an ancient sport that dates back to 2000 BC. It was popular in the Middle East and Mongolian Empire as well as in Europe, where it is most associated with medieval times. While falcons were used for hunting, they were mostly a status symbol. Only the elite classes had the time and money to spend on training their birds. As Helen Macdonald writes in H is for Hawk, falconry takes an abundance of time and patience.

photo by Laura Norsen

One of my favorite parts of the book was learning all the vocabulary that goes along with falconry. Helen is an austringer since she flies a hawk, not a falcon. And I was holding Benny who is a tiercel, or a male hawk, that was 1/3 smaller than the female hawk. John showed us the equipment- anklets, jesses, and hoods.

As a child I’d cleaved to falconry’s disconcertingly complex vocabulary. In my old books every part of the hawk was named: wings were sails, claws pounces, tail a train… Hawks don’t wipe their beaks, they feak. When they defecate they mute.

John especially wanted us to know about the dangers for these beautiful birds. Toxins like DDT almost wiped out the population of many birds including peregrine falcons which became an endangered species and led to the first captive breeding of the species in the 1970’s. In some countries, falcons and hawks are still seen as a status symbol which makes them valuable on the black market and vulnerable to trafficking. Captive breeding has become more prevalent in these areas which reduces the stress on the wild populations.

After we learned all about Benny, John brought out the most magnificent bird I’ve ever seen, an Eagle Owl named Lady Bird. She is truly massive, weighing about 5 pounds with a layer of feathers 2 inches deep. Her furry talons and sharp beak were intimidating, but John showed us how to rub her feathers between her eyes which she enjoyed.

After a windy and rainy morning, the clouds broke for some sunshine. I tore myself away from Lady Bird to meet up with some other members for a walk at Seward Park. The others stayed and got to meet some other birds and even fly them. John was wonderfully generous with his time and really has a deep love for his birds.

H is for Hawk by Helen Macdonald

 

Book Ends

 

Book Club

Hygge Snowshoe

We kicked off the Alpine Trails Book Club 2018 season with the coziest of all book club meetups. The day started with a snowshoe to Gold Creek Pond where we encountered a nice little blizzard. Big, heavy flakes covered our hoods and packs and blew sideways across the lake, obscuring the mountain views. Tree limbs glowed white against the dark of dense forest and the blue depths of the pond provided the only color besides our rainbow of puffy jackets and packs. We all smiled with glee, snowflakes on our noses and lashes as we kept moving to stay warm.

Our co-leader Laura was gracious enough to invite us to her family’s adorable A-frame cabin for lunch. We ended up arriving early so we munched on Scandinavian inspired snacks like cheese and smoked salmon, Pulla (a braided cardamom bread) and sipped hot tea. We made ourselves comfy and sat in front of the wood stove to discuss the book and hygge.

The best way I can think of to describe hygge is to tell you about one of my favorite memories growing up in Pennsylvania. I loved when it snowed and my sisters and I would sled all day and then make hot chocolate (the Swiss Miss kind that comes in a packet with the little itty bitty marshmallows) and buttered toast (with good old-fashioned white bread). We would turn the light on outside the sliding glass door, dip our toast in the cocoa, and watch the snow fall. I still crave hot chocolate and toast when it snows. That feeling of warmth, love, and safety is the essence of hygge.

Meik Wiking lays out his Hygge Manifesto in our January book selection, The Little Book of Hygge. These 10 pillars just so happen to align perfectly with the goals of our book club. Here they are, slightly altered into the Alpine Trails Book Club Manifesto:

Atmosphere: Surround yourself with beauty
Presence: Be here now
Pleasure: Enjoy a treat without guilt
Equality: Everyone has a voice
Gratitude: Take it all in
Harmony: It’s not a competition, we already like you
Comfort: Take a break to relax
Truce: No drama, no politics
Togetherness: Build relationships
Shelter: This is your place of security

We spent hours sitting in the warmth of the cabin chatting and getting to know each other. We ate some more; pumpkin soup, spicy cranberry meatballs, and chocolate cake before heading back out into the snow. It was a lovely day that encompassed all aspects of hygge, and the intentions of our book club. We started the day as mostly strangers and ended as friends.

The Little Book of Hygge by Meik Wiking

 

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Book Club

Blueberries For Days

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

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

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

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

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

photo: Laura Norsen

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

photo: Laura Norsen

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


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


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

The Big Burn by Timothy Egan

 

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Book Club

The Future of National Parks

In July we took to the high country and hiked to Fremont Lookout for our Alpine Trails Book Club meet up. Laura chose to hike in a National Park to go along with the theme of the month’s book selection, Lassoing the Sun: A Year in America’s National Parks. We are lucky here in Seattle to be so close to one of the oldest and most impressive National Parks, Mount Rainier.

The trail to the lookout begins at the popular Sunrise area of Mount Rainier National Park at 6400 feet, the highest part of the park that can be reached by road. We met next to the old lodge which opened in 1931. The lodge housed amenities such as showers, laundry, groceries, and cafeteria style dining for the over 200 rentable cabins that sprouted in the area. The cabins did not weather well, though, and were removed in 1944. The beautiful lodge structure remains, however, still offering cafeteria style dining and a gift shop.

We made our way through the crowds to the lookout trail. Emmons Glacier dominates the skyline as we scan the meadows for wildflowers. There was lupine and paintbrush and phlox, all familiar with a just a little twist that made it unique to the Park. It’s not a hike in Mount Rainier unless you spot some happy marmots along the trail. We saw several. I pointed them out to Evie and she giggled and babbled her approval.

We talked about the crowds and how it seems like we are seeing more and more people on the trails lately. Sunrise is a place that people come to from around the world. It is not unusual to hear hikers speaking several different languages. We pass groups of teens, families, trail runners, and couples, all seemingly content and happy to be in this beautiful place. All of us there for the same reasons and no one deserves to be there more than anyone else. But I can’t help wondering, are we loving Mount Rainier and other National Parks to death?

Mark Woods grapples with this and other issues that affect our beloved National Parks in Lassoing the Sun. He won a journalism fellowship that allowed him to spend a year exploring whatever he wanted. He chose the National Parks. Starting with a New Years Day sunrise on Cadillac Mountain in Acadia National Park and ending with a sunset in Haleakala, he traveled to a different National Park each month. And not just the popular ones. He wasn’t out to just celebrate the last 100 years of the parks, but rather to examine threats to the National Parks in the next 100 years.

The most obvious threat to the parks is climate change. The effects are already evident as glaciers in Glacier National Park are melting, habitats are shrinking, and species disappearing. But what should we do about it? Should we preserve the parks and fight to keep them the way they are, or do we let nature take its course and allow species to adapt on their own even if it means we lose some of them?

Photo: Laura Norsen

Then there is the issue of the parks being overcrowded and underfunded. The parks had over 300 million visitors in 2015 which is a staggering number. While it is great that so many people are loving on the parks, there is often not enough staff to support them and budget cuts make it difficult to fix and maintain roads and trails. The other issue with the crowds is that they are mostly white with an average age of 41 according to the National Park Service. This does not reflect the surrounding communities and certainly not the future generation.

In the book, Mark talks his wife and teenage daughter into going on road trips with him to the National Parks. It was what his parents did while he was growing up and he wants to carry on the tradition and share his favorite places. He worries about what the state of the parks will be in his daughter’s lifetime. With a little daughter of my own, I worry about it too. So what should we do about it?

Ultimately, Mark is hopeful. He says,

…being an advocate for the parks doesn’t mean you have to do something extreme. You don’t have to chain yourself to a redwood. You don’t have to be able to donate a bunch of money. If you want to help the parks, the most important thing you can do is simply go to them – and take someone with you.

 

Lassoing the Sun by Mark Woods

 

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Outdoor Life

Evie’s First Summit: Redux

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

Up by Patricia Ellis Herr

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

 

 

 

 

 

More about the Tolmie Peak Lookout trail

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Outdoor Life

Evie’s First Summit

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hikes Featured in this Post:

Mt Pilchuck

You may also like: Lookouts: Mt Pilchuck

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Outdoor Life

Orcas Island Camping

Around the time Evie turned 5 months old, I was getting antsy. The weather was cool and drizzly and we hadn’t been getting out as much I’d like. My husband was out of town and there were just a few days when the weather would be nice. I thought it would be fun to take Evie on the ferry and camp on Orcas Island. And then I thought about how much effort that would require and it made me very tired. I took a nap instead.

The next morning I woke up feeling energized. I thought maybe I could pack everything and make it to Anacortes in time for the afternoon ferry. I went into turbo mode and ran around the house packing stuff like a madwoman. I put everything outside next to the car and then puzzled it all into the back of my little VW Golf. It was so much more than I’ve ever needed on a camping trip, but it all fit perfectly with no room to spare. Nali got the backseat next to Evie and we were off.

Leaving on a Sunday afternoon, we basically had the ferry to ourselves. I played it cool among the locals heading back to the island from Seattle. Evie watched out the big window to see islands floating by. We went outside to feel the rush of the wind from the upper deck. First ferry ride: check.

Once we got to Orcas I found a lovely and lonely campsite on Cascade Lake. I set up camp and put Evie in the bumbo which she loves. I sang head, shoulders, knees and toes to get her to smile as I reheated some leftovers for dinner. I have to say I was pretty proud of myself for thinking of bringing leftovers to eat while camping. Gotta celebrate the small victories.


Later, as the sun was beginning to go down, I packed up baby and dog and headed up the long windy road to the top of Mount Constitution. There was just one couple that pulled in ahead of me and a single deer. I exchanged pleasantries with the couple and the deer, and we watched the sun setting on the nearby islands.


It was a long night full of feeding Evie, making sure Evie was still alive, and wondering if Evie was warm enough. It was so calm outside with not even the faintest rustle of a breeze. So I was surprised when I heard a long vrooooom sound like a stealth airplane and then a minute later I heard a splash and a little screeching cry. Then dead silence. Literally. I sat straight up, eyes wide, and didn’t move for a long time. I was listening for a clue to what just happened and I thought to myself, dude, something just got murdered.


I racked my brain to think of what predators might live on the island. It had to be an owl right? Yeah, owl sounds right. But could it have been a bear? Definitely not a bear. A cougar? Maybe… No, cougars don’t live on the island. Do they? Was it a raccoon or a possum? I don’t think they are predators. It was definitely an owl. It had to be. Or could it have been a cougar? This cycle continued on until dawn.


Needless to say, Evie, Nali and I slept in that morning. When we (I) mustered up the energy, we headed to Turtleback Mountain for a hike. The trail starts on an old logging road through the forest. It felt good to be out, Evie in the carrier and Nali at my feet. Evie didn’t make a sound, she just looked up at the tall cedars and Douglas firs. It made me think of when I moved to Seattle and couldn’t believe that there were so many tall trees along the highway. I had never seen trees so tall in my life. This will be Evie’s normal.


The trail left the road and continued through a hardwood forest carpeted in green. It felt like we were in a fairy tale. We lingered at the summit watching hawks glide back and forth in front of us. It felt like we had the whole island to ourselves. After the hike I drove into town and we visited the Brown Bear Bakery for lunch and then browsed the books at the charming Darvill’s bookstore. I picked out a picture book about a girl and a whale for Evie to read when she gets older.

 


I wanted to take Evie to a beach so I drove out to Obstruction Pass. The tide was high and there was a small amount of rocky beach to explore. The sun was just beginning to get lower in the sky. The blue water sparkled and the madrona trees glowed orange in the sunlight. It was a beautiful day. When we got back to the campsite we watched the sunset on the lake while Evie sat in her bumbo smiling away while I sang. I slept good that night.

Hikes Featured in this Post:
Turtleback Mountain
Obstruction Pass

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