Book Club

The Green Witch

This month we got in touch with our inner witchy side. Our Alpine Trails Book Club book selection was The Green Witch: Your Complete Guide to the Natural Magic of Herbs, Flowers, Essential Oils, and More and we paired it with a fall hike to the spooky historic Old Robe Canyon where an old railroad track lay in ruins. It was a perfectly cool and sunny day to explore and get in touch with nature.

The trail begins with a quick jaunt down many switchbacks to the base of the canyon. Huge bigleaf maples towered above our heads with just a few bright yellow leaves clinging to life. Branches, crooked and spiky and blanketed in moss, hovered above like the skeletal fingers of green giants. It was one of the first frosty days of the year and the shed leaves were outlined in a delicate ice, frozen in time. Horsetail shot above our heads in what was decidedly the most dense horestail forest we’ve all seen, and we imagined plucking them to use as broomsticks.

My husband and Evie (in her brand spanking new pink boots) ran ahead to keep warm as I caught up with my lovely coven of three teachers. They exchanged their woes of teaching through Zoom (I don’t know how they are doing it!), and how their kids are handling an on-going global pandemic along with the normal grade school challenges. I know these kids are better off for having these amazing and supportive teachers, but I may be a little biased in that these ladies are some of my very favorite people.

I gushed to them about my newest endeavor – going back to school to study landscape design. One of the classes I’m taking is evergreen plant identification and I’m learning the Latin names of over 100 plants. It makes me feel SO smart and fancy. Many of the plants I’m studying are native plants that we see on the trail. I point and yell them out like I’m casting a spell: Vaccinium ovatum! Polystichum munitum!

But, as we learned this month in our primer to green witchery, being a green witch is not about casting spells. It is all about making an intentional and singular connection with nature. It is not a religion, but rather a way of noticing and gathering energy from the world around us. The author encourages aspiring green witches to attune themselves to nature through grounding, working with the seasonal cycles, and finding the magic that already exists all around us.

Magic implies something out of the ordinary. But to a green witch the mundane is magical. When she senses, responds to, and gently nudges the flows of natural energy around her, nothing could be more natural. She’s performing natural magic. Nature itself is magical. The everyday is sacred to the green witch.”

Arin Murphy-Hiscock, The Green Witch

Our short walk brought us to the most interesting part of the trail. Here the canyon and river narrowed and the roar had us raising our voices to hear each other. We walked along man-made walls and train beds carved from the stone that felt like ancient ruins. Huge rusted nails rose from wood ties that have been there for over 120 years. The people who built a railroad here where looking to capitalize on the nearby mines of Monte Cristo and chose a location that was doomed to fail. To us it seemed obvious that this tight canyon was a terrible place to build a railroad, but perhaps we are much more in tune with nature than the white men of yore.

Nevertheless, we enjoyed our trip into the past. We found some nice boulders next to a waterfall to gather on for a snack and chat about the book. We all agreed that the book had some great practical ideas for things to keep ourselves sane during the winter months ahead. I shared how I had been in a rut lately and the book inspired me to clean my whole house all at once and get out my diffuser with some cedar essential oil. Just performing something that I usually unwillingly do anyway, but doing it in an intentional and ritualistic way made all the difference in my mood. I will from now on reframe “cleaning” as a “cleansing ritual.”

Meditation is encouraged in the book along with acknowledging and celebrating the seasons. The author guides us with a lovely fall meditation:

Once you have reached a place of comfort deep inside the earth, breathe that energy in, and feel it fill your body.

Feel the soil’s energy at this time of the autumnal equinox. Feel the energy of completion and contentment that vibrates the earth. Reach out and sense the fullness, the feeling of achievement as it flows through roots and stems. Explore the gentle, slower movement of energy throughout the soil and the roots of plants as the cycle of producing fruit and seed comes to an end on the surface of the earth.

Sense the feelings of contentment, of life, of pleasure and satisfaction, of appreciation and offering that pulse through the land.

Remain cradled by the energy of the soil as long as you like, enjoying the feeling of plenty and serenity around you.

Arin Murphy-Hiscock, The Green Witch

It was too cold to linger for too long, but before we headed back I had the group take a few minutes to ourselves. I know for me, it seems like I hardly ever give myself permission to take time to just be. I used the time to sit, close my eyes, and listen to the water rushing by while telling my brain it was okay to just relax. It was a little effective and felt nice to pause for a moment in my busy life.

As we returned to the trailhead, I marveled in how well Evie did on the hike. She walked the whole way by herself and we didn’t have to bribe her too much. The group chatted about their own kids and how we were going to celebrate the upcoming holidays and how everything will be different this year. It is a crazy and stressful time we are living in, and for me personally, knowing that I have these amazingly strong and compassionate friends along with some tools in my toolbox in celebrating my inner green witch for the coming months helps to put my mind at ease.

The Green Witch

by Arin Murphy-Hiscock

The green witch “is a naturalist, an herbalist, a wise woman, and a healer. She embraces the the power of nature; she draws energy from the earth and the universe; she relies on natural objects… she calls on nature for guidance; and she respects every living being, no matter how small.” YASSS! I literally gasped when I saw this book. It is basically a guide book to being an outdoor woman who wants to connect with nature on a deeper level. You’ll learn how to ground yourself, perform seasonal rituals, tap into the energy of flowers, use crystals, start a witch garden, and craft, cook, and heal with your new witchy finds.

Non-fiction // Published: 2017 // My Rating: 4 out of 5 stars

Buy on Amazon

Buy on Bookshop

Book Ends


Book Club Archive


*This post contains affiliate links. However, I always encourage finding books at your local library or favorite indie book store.

Book Club

Frankenstein

Halloween is my absolute favorite time of year. This year I wanted to share what I consider one of the best books of all time with the group, Frankenstein. I ambitiously chose an eight mile round trip hike to the ghost town of Monte Cristo before I knew that I would need to bring my 3 year-old daugther, Evie, along. I’ve hiked the trail several times before, but many trails I’ve hiked over the years are starting to converge in my brain. I could have sworn that the trail was a super flat and wide old road the whole way and that the big river crossing was at the end of the trail. I brought Evie’s stroller knowing that pushing her would be the only way I could move her eight miles and return before dark.

I met our group at the trailhead, stressed about the hike. Evie charmed them all with her “ballerina witch” costume as I preemptively and profusely apologized for bringing her and the stroller. If the others were worried they didn’t show it. They told me not to worry and Mala sweetly insisted on pushing the stroller. As usual, it soon became clear that my recall of the trail was off.

The trail was briefly flat like I remembered until it narrowed and climbed up away from the crumbling river bank. The trail follows the old road to Monte Cristo, a boom town that thrived during the gold rush of the late 1800’s and early 1900’s. It boasted a population of 2,000 people at its peak with saloons, mercantiles, a post office and a barber shop along its main street. Later it became a tourist destination with a lodge that attracted many visitors until it burned down in 1983 and the town fell into abandon.

A train ran from Monte Cristo to Everett in its boom times and the corridor between the two was notorious for damage caused by flooding. The railway evolved into a road and then later into a trail as the Stillaguamish carved its way through the hillsides. It was not surprising to see that the trail had been redirected further up the bank. I found a picture I took of the trail in 2008 with rusty railroad tracks suspended midair over an eroded bank. Either that section is gone or the trail is now routed above it.

Needless to say, getting my toddler through the rugged terrain and across the river (the river crossing was much earlier on the trail than I remembered) was a challenge. My amazing book club friends (including Rebecca’s dad and daughter) didn’t even bat an eye as they got into formation and made an assembly line across the strands of the braided river and creeks. We passed the stroller and then my kiddo across and then helped each other to the opposite bank.

The river level was quite low, but I’m positive a few of them had soaked feet and never complained about it. We took a break on the rocky sandbar mid-braid and had a snack while we took in the first views of the stunning mountain scenery topped with a layer of fresh fall powder. I was happy to call our trip here and just play and chat in this gorgeous spot, but the rest of the group was determined to see the ghost town. I told them it would be a long hike with Evie but they were all up for it. We crossed over an existing bridge on the far fork of the river and continued on.

Photo: Sulina Rodriguez

I soon abandoned the stroller in the trees and let Evie walk the uneven terrain with her good hiking pal, Sulina. I carried her a bit and Rebecca carried her on her shoulders for a long time. Sulina asked to use my camera and I obliged, happy to see her in her element. After what felt like a very long journey, we finally approached the old wooden ‘Monte Cristo’ sign leading us to the town site.

We then split up to take in the sights. There are still several structures standing and an old rusty train turntable on wheels that still works. High peaks loom over it all, dusted in a fresh blanket of snow. I chose this hike because I couldn’t think of a better place for Frankenstein’s monster to hide out if he so happened to be in the Cascades rather than the Alps.

Modern portrayals of Frankenstein’s monster (Victor Frankenstein is actually the name of the scientist who creates him) are much different than in the book. Yes, he is still a monster in the book and Victor is terrified of him, but he is intelligent and curious as well. After invoking fear into all of those who laid eyes upon him, he retreats to a structure in the woods next to a cottage. He doesn’t understand why others are so scared of him based on his appearance alone, but when he sees himself in a pool of water he understands their disgust.

He silently takes care of the family in the cottage by gathering wood for them and learns to speak, read and write while observing the family, unknown to them. When he finally reveals himself to the blind father of the family, he is hopeful he will be able to befriend them. The rest of the family returns and in horror drives the monster away. He returns to his creator and demands that he create a companion for him. When Victor refuses and there is no hope for the monster to be happy, he sets off on a rampage to make Victor’s life miserable. The monster’s behaviors are unsavory, but I have great empathy for him – he just wanted a friend.

Mary Shelley’s gothic novel is rooted in the scenic beauty of Europe and is said to be written based on her many travels. The idea for the book was famously thought up over a bet to create the best horror story during a ‘year with no summer’ with her pals at Lake Geneva (the same bet that spurred another classic, Dracula). Even the name Frankenstein is thought to come from the German castle of the same name that she traveled nearby and most likely saw looming above her.

You may be forgiven for classifying the book as science fiction or horror, but it actually reads quite like an adventure travel book. Part of the story is told in epistolary form from the perspective of a captain on an expedition to the North Pole. Another perspective is of Victor’s who chases his monster through gorgeous wilderness, bent on killing his shameful creation. The last perspective is of the monster as he toils with himself becoming the uncivilized terror that everyone expects him to be.

Dear mountains! My own beautiful lake! How do you welcome your wanderer? Your summits are clear; the sky and lake are blue and placid. Is this to prognosticate peace, or to mock at my unhappiness?

Mary Shelley, Frankenstein (Victor Frankenstein when returning to his home, Lake Geneva)

Back in Monte Cristo, we gathered together and ate our much deserved lunches. Rebecca heated up water for us all and we enjoyed some tea and cocoa. Evie sipped her cocoa from her favorite pink fox mug. We didn’t linger as it was getting late in the day and we still had a long trip ahead of us back to the trailhead. But even in the short time I couldn’t help but be grateful for these amazing friends with me. These are friends who don’t simply expect me to be a trip organizer, but who extend grace and kindness when I need help.

I love Frankenstein so much because it is a reminder that we are all human and that every soul deserves to have love and friendship, no matter what they look like or where they are from. It is also a reminder that our actions matter. Just like the kind actions of my friends on this day filled my heart with gratitude and love, the opposite is true as well. Anger, bigotry, and racism only fuels violence and hate just as the terrified reactions to the monster made him turn into a terrifying monster. As I am writing this many months later in the depths of a worldwide pandemic and after days of unrest in America’s cities because of another unwarranted killing of a black man by police, it is more important than ever to remember this. Let’s be kind to each other.

What do you mean? What do you demand of your captain? Are you then so easily turned from your design? Did you not call this a glorious expedition? And wherefore was it glorious? Not because the way was smooth and placid as a southern sea, but because it was full of dangers and terror; because, at every new incident, your fortitude was to be called forth, and your courage exhibited; because danger and death surrounded it, and these you were to brave and overcome. For this was it a glorious, for this was it an honourable undertaking.”

Mary Shelley, Frankenstein (Captain Walton)

Frankenstein

by Mary Shelley

This classic gothic novel tells the story of Victor Frankenstein, a young scientist who creates a horrific being through unorthodox methods. The curious and intelligent monster does not understand why everyone is so terrified of him until he sees himself in a pool of water. Ashamed, he flees to the woods and hides from the world. He learns to read and write while he silently helps and protects a nearby family. When he approaches the blind father, he thinks he may have finally found a friend who is not influenced by his appearance. When the rest of the family returns in terror, however, he is again driven away. Lonely and confused, he begs his creator to make him a companion. Victor, anguished by the creation of one monster refuses to do so again. The monster then turns on his creator and banishes himself to the far reaches of the land while Victor follows him determined to kill his own creation in revenge.

Fiction (Classic) // Published: 1818 // Ashley’s Rating: 5 out of 5 stars

Buy on Amazon

Book Ends


  • Frankenstein was written by Mary Shelley when she was just 18 years old and was based on many places she had visited.
  • There is a Frankenstein Castle in Germany that Mary is known to have traveled nearby in her journeys. It is rumored that a man who was born there dabbled in alchemy and did experiments with dead bodies. There is not much to back this story up, but I do still love it.
  • Mary didn’t make up the idea of electricity sparking life on her own. She was inspired by Galvanism, a concept that was developed in the late 18th century after a scientist used an electric current to make a frog’s leg twitch.

Book Club Archive


*This post contains affiliate links. However, I always encourage finding books at your local library or favorite indie book store.

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

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

Save

Save

Book Club

An Impressive Walk

As I drove to the Old Sauk trailhead, I was sure it would start raining any minute. The dark clouds hovered above the trees and mountains: Pilchuck, Three Fingers, then Whitehorse and the Twin Sisters, blazes of white against the gray. Along the Mountain Loop Highway the towering saturated green trees hugged me and welcomed me back. It’s been a while, old friends, I thought to myself, thankful for the return of spring and the promise of many more visits to come.

I met up with our growing group at the trailhead. I was thrilled to have some new faces in the group as well as others that have become familiar. Our little group of bloggers that met up as strangers not even a year ago were reunited and I’m so happy they have since become my good friends. We gave quick introductions and headed down the trail.

25648474230_de1d3e3f48_z

It’s immediately evident that this trail is a special one. The trees are speckled with moss and sage green lichen giving them an ethereal quality. If they glowed in the dark you could find as many constellations as there are in the night sky. The longer I look I get lost in them and wonder if I am gazing into the past, into the time before there were eyes like mine to see them. When there was only the river, the ferns, the moss, the lichen, the rocks.

My senses were overwhelmed as we stop each other to point out each sign of spring we saw. I heard a squeal of joy as Lainey discovered a trillium and another from Laura who spotted the teeny tiny pink bells of flowers on a huckleberry bush. We imagined ourselves as woodland fairies taking Sunday naps on the soft tufts of moss that covered every branch and surrounding forest floor, shaded by the tiniest white mushrooms caps you’ve ever seen.

IMGP1080

As lunchtime approached we found a comfy place to sit and share our thoughts about the book, Grandma Gatewood’s Walk. Emma Gatewood’s walk through the woods of the Appalachian Trail could not have been more different than ours. She was escaping some fierce demons in her life and she was alone without the modern comforts of proper hiking boots, backcountry stoves, freeze dried food or even a tent. She carried a meager 20 pounds of gear with only a shower curtain to protect her from the rain and depended on the kindness of strangers for a meal and a place to sleep. When there were none, she foraged what food she could find in the woods and slept on a bed of leaves.

25648477180_fac2366c64_z

During the 1950’s when Emma embarked on the Appalachian Trail, a huge cultural shift was taking place. The national highway system was becoming established and everyone used their cars to get around. In many places a lack of sidewalks made it impossible to walk from place to place. I didn’t realize just how much people used to walk until Montgomery points out in the book that people used to regularly walk 20 miles a day! Charles Dickens once said, “walk and be happy; walk and be healthy.”

25335125213_a7589d1eca_z

Emma Gatewood’s story is an inspiring one. She learned about the Appalachian Trail in an issue of National Geographic magazine and just decided to do it one day. She didn’t let the fact that she was 67 years old, had 11 grown children and a horrible abusive husband hold her back. She never felt sorry for herself or tried to justify what she was doing. When asked why she was doing it she simply said, “because I wanted to.”

25316412504_2b754aa762_z

As we were walking back on this trail filled with life and incredibly scenery, I felt grateful. Grateful for the comfort of the forest, grateful that it never rained on us, grateful that I have a caring and loving husband, grateful that we have these trails to walk in the age of the car, and grateful for these wonderful people who came out to share a book and a hike with me.

IMGP1152

Be a trail angel and make these for your next group hike to share. 🙂

Whole Grain Blueberry Muffin Recipe:
1 1/4 c whole wheat flour
1 c old fashioned rolled oats
1/4 c flax seed
1 tsp baking powder
1 tsp baking soda
1/2 tsp salt
1 c plain yogurt (I use Nancy’s Organic Plain Non-fat Yogurt)
1/2 c light brown sugar
2 Tbsp butter, melted
1 Tbsp grated orange zest
1/4 c fresh squeezed orange juice
1 egg
1 tsp vanilla
1 1/2 c fresh or frozen blueberries

  1. Preheat oven to 350F. Ground the oats and flax seed into a meal (I use a coffee grinder).
  2. Combine flour, oat meal, flax seed meal, baking powder, baking soda, and salt.
  3. In a separate bowl, whisk together yogurt, brown sugar, butter, orange zest & juice, egg, and vanilla.
  4. Add flour mixture to wet ingredients and mix until just incorporated, fold in blueberries.
  5. Divide into greased muffin pan. Bake 25-30 minutes.

Grandma Gatewood’s Walk by Ben Montgomery

 

Book Ends


 

Save

Outdoor Life

Hiking History: Mount Pilchuck

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

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

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

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

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

Hikes Featured in this Post:
Mt Pilchuck