Book Club

Animal Dialogues

My worn paperback copy of The Animal Dialogues lives on the “dad” shelf of my living room bookshelves. Most of the spines happen to be black, brown, or gold (dad colors, right?) and have either been given to me from my dad or remind me of him. Some I picked up on our road trip through Alaska ten years ago, others are his old bird identification books, their covers tattered from use. Most are about wildlife, adventure, or nature in some way, books I’ve read and loved and sent him for his birthday or Fathers Day so he could read them too. A simply framed box, given to me on my 28th birthday, holds four sharply cut arrowheads found by my dad or my grandfather and rests on a pile of books in the center of the shelf. A carefully detailed account of when and where each was found tucked behind the casing. Other little items that my dad has passed onto me through the years are carefully placed between the books like one of his high school report cards (his best grade was in Biology) and an old engineer’s handbooks from the 1940’s. My grandfather was a train engineer and I love flipping through the delicate blueprints of steam locomotive systems that fold out of the books. One could learn much about my dad and his interests from this shelf, and consequently, much about myself and the traits I get from him and my grandfather.

So needless to say,  I was thrilled when mountain guide and adventure writer, Charlotte Austin, recommended reading this book and collaborating with her online book club, Adventure Grapes. I first read this book about a decade ago and I could immediately and vividly recall the Raven and Mountain Lion chapters. I was excited to revisit it and since Craig grew up in Arizona and many of his stories are set there, it would pair nicely with an upcoming road trip to his home state. We planned our May book club outing to Icicle Ridge, a nice early season hike near Leavenworth. Laura invited us to camp at her family’s nearby cabin so I brought the whole family- my husband, Evie, and doggie Nali. It’s been awhile since we’ve all been out on an adventure together.

We were greeted at the cabin with hugs and bug spray. I was secretly hoping that we would have some epic wildlife encounters over the weekend and I was encouraged when I spotted a coyote trotting down the railroad tracks next to highway 2 on our drive to the cabin. BUT, as the saying goes, be careful what you wish for. We did have an epic encounter with an animal highlighted in the book. Unfortunately, it was with a less desirable species: the mosquito. I played it cool for awhile and nonchalantly swatted the bugs while I listened intently to my friends, concentrating on making eye contact and nodding in agreement, uh-huh (slap, slap). This lasted a little while until I couldn’t take it anymore. I  jumped up and really sprayed myself with bug spray this time, hovering the bottle for a long time over my limbs and head. I felt like Craig’s friend who had gone crazy from the mosquitoes in Alaska. We had been at the cabin for approximately 30 minutes. Ugh.

Laura and I and some others who had arrived decided to take refuge in the car and head over to Lake Wenatchee for a short hike while the sun was beginning to set. We lingered along the shoreline, basking in the fresh and bug-free air until we got too hungry and headed back to the cabin for dinner. As we drove, it started unexpectedly raining. Then it rained harder. Our husbands had stayed behind to keep a fire going and we found them huddled on the porch out of the rain. The fire still burned and they found round pieces of bark to place on the fire grate that made perfect little houses to cook our sausages. The rain dispersed the bugs, the porch kept us dry, and we ate via lantern light as we told our own scary wildlife encounters. This was after hearing the news that someone had been killed by a mountain lion that morning in an area where we all regularly hike. It was the first fatal attack by a mountain lion in Washington in nearly 100 years. Sadly, the victim had done everything they were supposed to do. It was a sobering reminder that we too have a place in nature’s food chain.

The next morning we headed to Leavenworth to fuel up on caffeine at the adorable Argonaut Espresso Bar. We met the rest of our group at the Icicle Ridge trailhead and headed up the trail through a thick stand of green maples. The lushness soon gave way to the typical dusty trail lined by ponderosa pine, lupine, and balsamroot (that magical combination again!). It was warm and getting hotter by the minute on the exposed trail. But the views of the Icicle Valley and the Wenatchee River below were getting better and better. I slogged up the switchbacks, happy to have time to clear my mind. That’s the thing about hiking, you don’t have to make many decisions. You just follow the trail. I thought of the part in the book when Craig yearns to be an animal with no plans, no quarrels, just sticks and stones.

It is the wish to be an animal again, to have the eyes that I have lost. No presuppositions. Just sticks and stones. I want something that is gone, something unacceptable, irrational. Where it is known when to sleep, where to seek food, which direction to turn. Where it is understood, without quarrel or reason. I want to lose my fingers and plans and I want to fly.

We gathered at the top of the ridge in the shade and lingered a while. We marveled at our new view of the Wenatchee River raging through Tumwater Canyon, a stark contrast to the lazy version flowing through town. Waterfalls blazed white on the far reaches of the ridge and carved their way down to the river in impressive ribbons. We all agreed that it seemed early for the amount of snow melt happening already this year. We walked along the ridge through balsamroot to the overlook, Leavenworth spread out below, and asked someone to take our picture. We had sunglasses and hats on, full of mosquito bites and sweat. Ah, it felt like summer.

I wanted to share the discussion questions I came up with for Adventure Grapes, you can see them here. I would love to hear your thoughts on the book. It is one of my favorites and brings up so may fascinating questions about our relationship with wild animals. We can’t possibly know what goes on in an animal’s mind, but I know that we are not the first animals to think, remember, love, and see beauty and we should treat them accordingly. As Robin Wall Kimmerer says in her book, Braiding Sweetgrass, we have so much to learn from these species who have been on the earth much longer than us.

The life of an animal lies outside of conjecture. It is far beyond the scientific papers and the campfire stories. It is as true as breath. It is important as the words of children.

 

The Animal Dialogues by Craig Childs

 

Book Ends
Book Club

Skywoman Falling

She fell like a maple seed, pirouetting on an autumn breeze.

I put my hand on my heart, my shoulders relaxed, and took a deep breath. This simple opening sentence to Braiding Sweetgrass invited me in like an old friend or favorite relative. Robin Wall Kimmerer unfolds the origin story like a warm blanket. The woman falls from the sky until she is caught on the wings of geese. They carried her downward until they could no longer hold her above the water that encompassed the earth. Other animals rose to help her: otters, beavers, fish, and a great turtle offered its back to rest on. The others, understanding that she needed land to live on, dove to the bottom of the sea to find land for her. Many tried and failed until a little muskrat gave it a go and after a long while returned with a small handful of mud. The mud grew and grew as the woman gave her thanks for what the animals had done for her. Together they formed what was called Turtle Island.

I can’t help but wonder how the world would be different if we all were told this origin story.

Our book club camping weekend started out much less gracefully. The pirouetting skywoman would have been rudely blown off course if she was heading for the Columbia Gorge on this day. Laura and I stepped into the wind tunnel that would be our home for the next two nights with literally the highest sustaining wind speeds I think I’ve ever felt. We worked together to pitch the tent next to the fence-like structure that may otherwise seem out of place on a non-windy day and made perfect sense on a day like this. It helped. I told Laura the wind would surely die down. It did not. We took refuge in the tent as a few others arrived and even some rain came to keep us on our toes. We were in good company though, and talked books in the tent for awhile.

I wanted to see the shimmering threads that hold it all together. And I wanted to know why we love the world, why the most ordinary scrap of meadow can rock us back on our heels in awe.

The next morning I woke early in the morning. Now that I have a 1-year-old I have apparently (and very reluctantly) become a “morning person” and wake promptly at 5:55am and cannot go back to sleep for the life of me. So I got up and went for a drive up the Dalles Mountain Ranch road to see how the flowers were doing. I found fields of goldenrod and aster. Well, actually it was lupine and balsamroot, but it was the same gold and purple pair that Robin describes with an entire chapter in the book. Science makes these colors attractive to us, and more importantly to bees, so that they will more likely pollinate the flowers. I waded through the tall grass and sat on a rock. I noticed that next to me was a small indentation in the vegetation where the tall grass was laid flat, where another animal took refuge. I contemplated, like Robin, the purpose of beauty and I gave myself space and time. To be grateful. To ponder. To listen to the plants to hear what they had to say.

Beginning with where our feet first touch the earth, we send greetings and thanks to all members of the natural world.

After returning to the group, we headed to the Columbia Hills State Park’s pictograph tour. The wind had calmed down a little bit (thankfully!) and we met more members of our group near some petroglyphs on display. The petroglyphs were carved into the rock by an ancient people about a mile from where we stood in a cave that had been flooded when the Dalles Dam was constructed in 1957. One of many dams of the Columbia River, this is the one that also flooded the famous Celilo Falls, a series of fast-moving cascades through this area of the river. A guide led us to see pictographs, which in contrast to the petroglyphs, are painted onto the rock surface using pigments and dyes created from nearby natural materials. The pictographs vary in age from 300 to 1000 years old and have been preserved in their original locations. These were created by a different group than those that carved the petroglyphs. Our guide told us that the pictographs were most likely painted by young men who went off from the village (located near the river that is also now flooded) up into the hills on vision quests. They would sit in a spot on the rocks for days until they had a vision. They would then draw pictures of their visions which most often came to them as an animal. The animal that appeared to them would give them clues to their strengths. If they saw a skunk, they will be a good parent, if they saw an owl, they would be a good hunter.  We saw owls and bear-like faces, sometimes with zigzags emanating from the animal face. The zigs above the animal connected them to the spirit world, and the zags below grounded them to Mother Earth.

The main attraction here, though, is Tsagaglala, or She Who Watches. She was the chief of the nearby village when Coyote came. Coyote asked her what kind of chief she was and she replied that she taught her people to live well and build good houses. Coyote told her that change was coming to the village, some good and some bad. A new people would come and with them bring tools that you can’t even imagine. But they would also bring death and destruction and women would no longer be chiefs. The chief told Coyote that she wished she could watch over her people forever. Coyote, the trickster, then turned her to stone and said, “now you shall stay here forever, watching over your people and the river.” So surely she’s been watching.

Like Coyote predicted, she watched new people, the Europeans, come to the village and with them death and disease. Our guide told us that they don’t know much about the pictographs and petroglyphs simply because almost the entire tribe of people had been killed by disease. Tsagaglala has also watched the construction of the railroad and later the dams that would flood her beloved people’s homes and history. Our guide was there when the dam flattened the falls in 1957. He was just a boy, but he remembers standing next to the tribal elders as they watched and shed tears.

A major theme of the book is gratitude and I could not have been more grateful for the group we had at Columbia Hills. It was our biggest group outing yet and these women (and one brave and wonderful and kind man) made my heart melt with joy. Each and every person in the group was a badass in their own way and inspired the crap out of me. Some came all the way from Bend, Oregon, some woke in the wee hours of the morning to drive hours and hours to get there on time for the pictograph tour. Some are moms, some are not, some in their twenties, others in their fifties and anywhere in between. We came from many different backgrounds and we all got along so well. You could say we were each a unique strand of sweetgrass that weaved into the perfect basket.

While reading the chapter where Robin describes her youngest daughter leaving for college and her cousin leaving eighteen thoughtful gifts to help her transition to her new life without kids in the house, I cried. It was such a beautiful gesture and I could only hope to have such a thoughtful friend when that time comes for me. I know I have like 16 and 1/2 years to go, but when one of our members brought me a small beautifully woven basket she made and said it was for me, I couldn’t help but think of that story as tears welled in my eyes.

Today we have gathered and when we look upon the faces around us we see that the cycles of life continue. We have been given the duty to live in balance and harmony with each other and all living things. So now let us bring our minds together as one as we give greetings and thanks to each other as People. Now our minds are one.

On Saturday evening we wandered over to Horsethief Butte for a sunset hike. The short trail loops up onto the butte through balsamroot and boulders painted in lichen. Tall grass rustled in the wind at a comforting pitch. At the top, the way opens up into what I can only describe as a cathedral. Massive rocks surround a relatively flat area full of flowers. I immediately felt like I was in a very special place. As we investigated more, we found an area of fallen rocks blocked off with a sign. The sign said that these rocks were not to be disturbed. They must have been special in some way. Maybe they were part of an ancient pictograph? I stood in silence and felt the urge to speak only in whispers. Our group split up and half of us climbed up one side and the rest climbed to the other side as the sun spilled it’s glow on us. We waved to our friends on the other side, silhouetted in the last of the day’s sun rays.

The next morning we headed to the Dalles Mountain Ranch for the grand finale of the trip. Part of the Columbia Hills, the Dalles Mountain Ranch is a large swath of land up in the hills above the Columbia River. The ranch dates back to 1866 with several owners until it was sold to the DNR in 1993. The most interesting thing about the park is the number of deciduous trees despite the arid landscape. The trees were actually planted in response to the Timber Culture Act of 1873 which gave homesteaders an extra 160 acres of land if they planted at least 40 acres with trees. The idea was that trees would bring rain to the area. Of course, this didn’t really work and the idea was later abandoned.

The ranch is still home to lots of deciduous trees and countless numbers of wildflowers. Arrowhead balsamroot and lupine dominated the landscape but there was also phlox, prairie star, desert parsley and countless others. We hiked a loop through the park and ooo’d and aww’d at the views. Mt Hood never quite revealed her full self, but once in a while we’d get a little glimpse of her.

At the end of the hike we said our goodbyes and gave each other hugs. I was a little sad that this amazing weekend was coming to an end, but I was also incredibly happy. We were mostly strangers in the beginning of the weekend and now we left as friends. Robin talks a lot about reciprocity in the book, if you take care of the earth, it will take care of you. This weekend, I’ve learned that this also applies when it comes to friendships. When you are willing to get out of your comfort zone and open up to others, wonderful friendships will blossom.

We are showered every day with gifts, but they are not meant for us to keep. Their life is in their movement, the inhale and exhale of our shared breath. Our work and our joy is to pass along the gift and to trust that what we put into the universe will always come back.

Braiding Sweetgrass by Robin Wall Kimmerer

 

Book Ends

 

         

Outdoor Life

We Hike To Heal

We watched them take off, one by one. Air filled the thin sheets of fabric transforming them into birds. A group of mostly strangers, we collectively held our breath as the paragliders ran off the side of the mountain, into the unknown.

It was March 30th, and women all over the world were taking to the trails for the 2018 #wehiketoheal empowerment and wellness campaign. Our local WA grassroots branch of the Outdoor Women’s Alliance held a group hike to Poo Poo Point, a popular paragliding location near Seattle, to participate in the movement. I think it’s safe to say that it was a powerful, moving, and ultimately healing event for our little group. It’s wonderful to know that we shared this experience with so many others at the same time. I soaked up inspiration from these women and had so many great takeaways. Here are a few.

Give Yourself Permission

We started the hike by setting an intention. We literally wrote permission slips to ourselves allowing us to enjoy our hike with no judgement of ourselves, to be at peace, to breathe, and to be in the moment. The words in my head along with the stress of week gathered on the page and stayed there. I put it all in my pocket, and out of my head, for the day.

 

Sometimes You Just Have to Jump

While we watched the paragliders run down a small strip of turf that disappeared into the sky, I noticed how they ran without hesitation, without turning back. I imagine they don’t think about what they are doing too much as they run. Just commit and go. One foot after the other. We discovered in our group discussion that we often find more success in accomplishing goals this way. There is something about just going for it and not having a plan with expectations, that is freeing. One woman in our group lost nearly 100 pounds by simply deciding to go for a hike to Wallace Falls one day. She let go of the voices in her head telling her she couldn’t do it and she just went for it, one step at a time. Once she proved to herself that she could do it, she was unstoppable. After just a few years of being on this journey, she has hiked all over and is now training to climb Mount Rainier. We are capable of so much more than we know.

Embrace Your Vulnerability

I wasn’t surprised that Brene Brown came up a lot during our hike and discussion. And for good reason. We reminded ourselves that its okay to be vulnerable. Its okay to ask for help. It’s okay to let go of perfection. We reminded ourselves to watch our self talk. Would you talk to your best friend the way you talk to yourself? Keep it in perspective. All things that Brene Brown tells us, all things we should tell ourselves everyday.

 

The Outdoors is the Great Equalizer

The cedars don’t care if you’re pretty or skinny. The granite doesn’t care about your political or religious views. The lupine don’t want to hear about your job and accomplishments. The sky doesn’t care about the color of your skin. In the outdoors, we are all equal. This is why the outdoors is so healing. It is elemental to our being. In the outdoors we are free of everyday distractions, phones, media. We can simply be.

Healing is a Journey

Our hike leader, Bethany, is a self-described Loss Momma. She lost her daughter on the day she was born to a terminal condition. She is passionate about the outdoors and finds healing in the forests and mountains. I admire the crap out of her and her ability to share her story so generously and openly, simply so that others may know that they are not alone. Remember that everyone you see on the trails, everyone in the perfect Instagram photos, every woman on the cover of a magazine, has their struggles. We all have struggles. You are not alone.

Learn more about Bethany and her journey of healing on her blog All The Passion Strings. She also runs a Facebook group called Hiking to Heal.

 

Nature, Love, Medicine: Essays on Wildness and Wellness

This compilation of essays written by an intriguing group of writers, artists and scientists, pulls together insightful thoughts and theories on the healing powers of nature. Robin Wall Kimmerer, a botanist with Native American heritage, writes about the literal healing properties of medicinal plants while Lauret Savoy writes about going to the mountains to escape the racism of the city. Some speak of spending time in the outdoors as a means of physical healing, others speak to ways that we can return the favor and heal the Earth. All of the essays speak to a deeper sense of being and belonging in the natural world.

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

 

Book Ends

Outdoor Life

2018: The Year of Women

Today, I witnessed something on the trails I have never witnessed before. The women outnumbered the men. By a lot. The first woman I encountered was even breastfeeding her baby while descending the trail (something I admire since I’ve never had the coordination to even try). There were other women carrying their children, young women giggling and snapping selfies of each other, others going solo with a dog or trail running. The women freakin’ dominated that trail!

When I started this blog back in 2014 I was looking for inspiration. I mostly hiked solo and I was looking for community and to hear other women’s experiences and stories. They were hard to find. I discovered the Outdoor Women’s Alliance and She Explores, but back then they didn’t have nearly the following and diverse content they do now. Those were the years when I rarely saw other women hiking alone. When I hiked to the top of Sourdough Mountain I was met by a man who asked if I really hiked all the way up there all on my own. When I led an all women’s backpack trip we were literally asked, “where are all the men?”

We’ve come a long way since then. Women are no longer tolerating the sexism and sexual harassment that have muddied the waters, not just in the outdoors, but sadly in many aspects of our lives. Women are speaking up with social media campaigns like #metoo and Time’s Up (omg, Oprah’s speech, right?). Outdoor brands are getting called out for their sexist advertising and their failure to understand women’s bodies with “pink it and shrink it.” And instead of sitting around and waiting for the industry to change, women have stepped up to build their own outdoor brands.

Is there still work to do? Yes, of course. Couldn’t you say 2017 was the year of women? Sure. But the difference is now it is becoming normal. I expect to see women of all types on the trails, I expect to see women represented in outdoor media. I didn’t bat an eye at that woman breastfeeding her baby via ergo. This is the outdoor world I want to see represented and this is what I want to be my daughter’s normal.

Book Club

Blueberries For Days

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

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

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

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

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

photo: Laura Norsen

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

photo: Laura Norsen

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


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


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

The Big Burn by Timothy Egan

 

Book Ends

Outdoor Life

Fall Harvest

One thing I didn’t anticipate after having a baby is just how homesick I would be. Fall has a way of making me especially conscious of this. I crave homemade meals, the scent of decaying leaves, cobalt blue skies, and football games. But most of all, I crave family.

I miss getting together with aunts and uncles and cousins, eating delicious food and laughing until I almost pee my pants. I miss inevitably listening to the stories I’ve heard a million times, as familiar and exciting as a favorite song coming on the radio. There is an ease and comfort that wraps me up like a warm blanket and fills me up like chicken pot pie.


Since my husband and I moved to Seattle over a decade ago, we’ve grown our own little family. First with a dog, then a baby, but mostly with our friends. I do feel a deep connection to the Northwest and over the years our friendships have grown into family. I am eternally grateful for this and feel very lucky.


Here in the PNW, I feel my short thin roots reaching down and spreading but they are still searching for nourishment, grasping to take hold. Back on the east coast, I stand firm. My thick healthy roots spread far and deep. I need to nourish my Northwest roots. And so, with the help of a good friend, I did just that.


When my pal Laura offered to share her elderberry picking spots with me, I jumped at the chance. We headed east to Leavenworth in the late September smoky haze. Laura showed me where she went to camp growing up and where she and her dad would look for elderberries. We found some in her usual spots and then saw a jackpot of a bush along the road in someone’s property. The owners were outside and gave us their blessing to go pick all we wanted. We got bags and bags full.


I knew that the blue elderberries are poisonous to eat when raw, so I asked Laura what to do with them. She explained to boil them and put them through a sieve to get the juice. She gave me a tip that proved invaluable- freeze the berries on the the stems before you pick them all off. It worked brilliantly. She also gave me her dad’s recipe for elderberry jam and it is so delicious.


Sure, I could’ve researched online where and how to pick elderberries, but it is so much more enjoyable to get this information passed on from friends and family. These are the things that make roots grow. I kept telling Laura all day, I totally feel like a local now!


In October, Laura invited me to Vashon Island to pick apples and make cider with her husband’s extended family. They have deep roots on the island and I got to listen to the catching up, the familiar stories, and eat the delicious food.


No one here will ever replace my own family of course, but I so appreciate getting just some of that comfort and warmth I’ve been craving. And the harvest; the jam and cider, tastes that much better.

 

The Fish Ladder by Katharine Norbury
Norbury, who was adopted after being left as an infant at a convent, takes her daughter, Evie, along the banks of Welsh rivers to trace them to their source. Not knowing where her true roots lie, she seeks peace and familiarity, ultimately searching for a beginning and a sense of belonging. This book, filled with gorgeous descriptions, unpronounceably delightful Welsh locations, history, and fairy tales, quickly became a favorite of mine. It is truly the most beautiful book I’ve read in awhile.

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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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