Book Club

The Nature Fix

As we gathered at the trailhead before setting out on our backpack adventure, I encouraged everyone to take time to look, feel and smell as we walk. I told them to pay attention to how the wind feels on your skin, listen to the birds. I told them that I love them all, but I am a true introvert and being social drains my energy. Being alone is what really fuels me. I know I’m not the only one. I told them to take time for themselves if they need it – and lets all respect each other’s needs.

We were embarking on a session of nature immersion for the weekend with an overnight backpack trip to Ingalls Creek. Our June book club pick, The Nature Fix, highlights research that shows the benefits of being in the woods. It’s amazing that you only need to be outside about 5 hours a month to reap the benefits: lower heart rate, lower stress levels, lower blood pressure, heightened cognitive ability, and even increased empathy for others. We were putting the research to the test. From the beginning of the hike, I could immediately tell this one was different. We all slowed down, we stopped to take more photos, we inspected and smelled flowers and trees.

The trail wanders along the creek and was teeming with a rainbow of wildflowers. We spied the usual orange of the tiger lily, red of the columbine and paintbrush, pink of the wild roses, along with some more unusual sightings: white Cat’s Ears, yellow paintbrush, blue penstemon, and the elusive Mountain Lady’s Slipper. It was my first sighting of the delicate orchid and we all squeezed together on the trail for a look.

As we progressed on the trail, we noticed that the flora was changing. The beginning of the trail traversed an old burn, still recovering with sun-loving plants dominating. Later we entered a more mature forest with huge ponderosa pine trees. We gave them hugs and smelled them. We discussed the best way to go about it and decided that it was to find a tree exposed to the sun and then get your nose into the deepest fissure in the bark you can find. Close your eyes and take a deep breath. Ponderosa pines have the delightful scent of the most luxurious vanilla you’ve ever smelled. Brenda told me it reminds her of creme brulee. We immediately got hungry and proceeded to plot a way to bring and/or make backcountry creme brulee.

We found a large camping spot in the trees to fit our group and set up camp. Some of the group continued up the trail a ways for lunch. Others stayed and cooked up lunch and made some tea at the campsite. For Mala, who we lovingly call our trail mama, this backpacking trip was a first. She went out and bought all new backpacking gear (she willingly commits to anything the book club does) and when we showed her our camp stoves and cookware she cracked up at how tiny it all was. She is used to cooking in large batches, whether for her family or while taking over our book club camp meals, and said she felt like a kid playing with cooking toys. She giggled the whole way through each meal and it made all of us smile.

Laura and I lazed along the riverside for a while and caught up on life. While we chatted a butterfly came to visit me. It sat on the rock beside me for a long time, giving me a sense of ease and comfort. I studied its colors and patterns. The others made their way down to the riverside as well. There we sat for a long time. We talked, napped, read, with no agenda, no expectations. Brenda studied for an upcoming statistics exam, one she was worried about passing (later she told us that she aced her exam and chalked it up to our nature fix). As the sun tracked above our heads and grew warmer, we all dipped our toes into the chill of the snow-fed creek.

As dinner time was nearing, I went and gathered some things around the forest and had everyone sit in a circle. I told them to pick an item- moss, sticks, pine cones, etc. I had them describe what they noticed during our hike on the trail and what they noticed about their items as they studied them. I welcomed everyone to take off their shoes and put their feet in the dirt (it felt so good!) for grounding and we did a short meditation together. Closing our eyes, relaxing our bodies, being in the moment.

We cooked our dinners (with Mala chuckles) and had our book discussion. One of the things that struck most of the group was that its not just adults who need to get into nature more, but our kids. Its hard to argue that time outside helps kids to focus and keeps them active and healthy. I especially enjoyed the chapters toward the end that talk about how being outside increases our sense of community and purpose in the world. And how just listening to birdsong, whether outside or through your headphones, gives us a sense of calm and peace. Birds only sing when they are safe and when all is right in the world.

I felt compelled, though, to share that I don’t think that nature is a “fix” for everyone. No one should feel that being outside will magically solve all of life’s problems. I prefer to call it the nature “assist.” Being outside can help to reduce anxiety and depression, but I don’t believe that it should replace medication and most importantly, no one should feel bad about themselves if nature is not a “fix” for them.

After dinner Laura got out her gorgeous Tarot cards and did readings for us. Laura and I shared our fascination with Tarot a while back and decided we should do readings while backpacking. I thought we might scare off our book club members, but everyone was pretty into it. After that we filtered off to bed. Rebecca and I lingered for a bit. She wasn’t tired and she didn’t have a book to read, her phone was dead, and we didn’t have any paper for her to write or draw. I smirked a little and gave her a challenge to just relax and enjoy being in the woods.

The next morning as we made breakfast and tea, Rebecca showed us the mountain that she whittled out of wood. My jaw dropped. She showed us all of the little things she made out of wood while we slept. They were beautiful and we passed them around and took photos. I turned to her, “you’re not the kind of person who can easily relax are you?” She replied, “no, definitely not.” We laughed. I guess some of us need a longer nature fix than others.

photo courtesy of Mala Giri
The Nature Fix by Florence Williams

Book Ends

Book Club Archive

Book Club

Yellow Aster Beauties

This month the book club went on our first backpacking adventure together. I chose a fun and quick read about a group of girlfriends who hiked the John Muir Trail back in the 1990’s. They just graduated from college and were taking a break before diving into real life. They spent 28 days hiking the 215 mile trail from Mount Whitney to Yosemite. When her friend Erika asked her to hike the JMT, the author Suzanne immediately agreed. She was not an experienced backpacker, but she had read a lot of John Muir, so she thought she knew what she was getting into. She climbed nine mountain passes, encountered snow, storms, and bears and dealt with food shortages, but mostly she had to learn to work together with two other women.

We opted for a much shorter hike than the JMT, Yellow Aster Butte, in the North Cascades. After a week of smoky skies in western Washington, it looked like the weekend was going to be a nice one with the smoke blowing off. When we reached the trailhead in a thick haze, though, I had a feeling that was not going to be the case. We decided to go on anyway, vowing to take our time and drink lots of water. We switchbacked up and up as we caught up with each other and what’s been going on since we’ve seen each other last. We didn’t have any new members come out with us this time and as much as I LOVE meeting new book-lovers out on the trails, it was kind of nice to spend extra time with some “regulars” and get to know these ladies better.

We chatted about our favorite parts of the book and we imagined which characters we would be. We even made plans to reenact our favorite parts later at the campsite. I imagined myself as Erika, of course, the leader and planner. I had to admit I was afraid that I scared everyone off a few weeks prior when I sent out a spreadsheet including an offer to pack the food. In the book Erika was ruthless with the food rations and the group regularly received meager tablespoons of oatmeal and often ate Powerbars for lunch. Nobody took me up on my offer. I laughed hysterically when I put two and two together, although the group promised they didn’t think I was an Erika.

Once we rounded the butte we found the trail that leads down to a huge open area filled to the brim with tarns. Kirstin spotted a campsite from above and it looked like the perfect spot perched on its own little island. We hustled down to stake our claim and have some lunch. Afterwards we felt like lounging among the sculpted rocks like marmots and reading and chatting. There was a tarn just below us, calm as could be, so we went down to lounge next to it. In the book, the girls have a “spa day” toward the end of their trip where they filed each others nails and braided each others hair. We thought that sounded lovely and decided to make our own “spa day.” We slipped into the water, one of us quite literally, and one of us quite purposely, and like Erika in the book, quite naked. I lingered on the edge with my feet in, squirming my toes into the thick oozy mud. I really wanted to get in, but I never swam in an alpine tarn like this. A small chunk of snow still clung to the far end. Then I just went for it. The alpine water washed away the trail dirt and smoke ash.  It felt like it washed away the stress and tension built up in my body over months or even years. I felt refreshed and renewed, better than any spa.

I didn’t want to leave our magical tarn, but when we spotted some strange bugs creeping along the bottom in the impossibly clear water, I high-tailed it out of there. I’m not usually afraid of bugs, but these were strange and we were pretty sure, just a few minutes before, that the tarn was devoid of any life whatsoever. They seemed to emerge from the mud. Yuck. So we headed back to camp and setup our three tents on our little island and just lounged some more. We had the perfect vantage point for people and marmot watching, both equally entertaining. The tarn basin tended to amplify the voices of the hikers coming down the switchbacks. We would hear voices and then get quiet to see if we could make out what they were saying. The basin amplified the whistles of the marmots as well and we watched groups of them play and roll on the steep slopes.

We discussed trail names like the women in the book had, and thought what ours might be. We gave other groups names too, there were the “dog people” who were yelling at their dogs the whole time they hiked down while the unleashed beasts terrorized the poor marmots. There were also the “rock people” who sat on a smooth rock across the way in a perfect circle, seeming like they’ve always been there and always will be. The next morning I discovered that the dog people were the same as the rock people and my head exploded. It made sense. The smoke had kept many people away and a normally very busy place was quite quiet on this weekend.

After we had enough lounging we moved onto dinner. We fired up our tiny stoves with a loud whhhhhrrrr, and I boiled my ramen noodles (I know you are thinking wow, those other ladies really missed out on a gourmet dinner. I know, right?) and we talked some more about the book. I first read this book about a decade ago and I remember totally relating to the author, Suzanne, who was obsessed with John Muir. I loved how she included a John Muir quote at the beginning of every chapter. Reading it again for this trip, I related more to her discovery that John Muir doesn’t have all the answers and its actually hard to relate to his stories, as fantastic as they are, because, well, turns out he’s not a woman. Suzanne discovered that her journey and story was not going to be the same as his. This self-discovery really stood out to me. I’ve realized how much I’ve been growing away from the “old, dead white guy” stories of nature and adventure that we are accustomed to, and have come to very much prefer stories from women’s perspectives. Simply because I am a woman and I can relate to them.

Rather than relying upon the language of men, a language that doesn’t take into account all the ways I felt about being in the mountains, I needed a language of my own to describe the landscape in all its complexity…

I love how Suzanne addresses gender in the outdoors quite frankly and unapologetically. She didn’t shy away from her 20-year-oldish boy crazy thoughts and daydreams, and also from her feelings of being uncomfortable and vulnerable around men she didn’t know on the trail. She doesn’t have an agenda, she’s simply telling her story from her female perspective. I adore these honest memoirs and it’s books like these that inspired me to go searching for more of them. I even made a list of my favorites that I’ve read and loved and will be adding to. There are so many great stories and it makes me so happy!

With the smoke it was hard to tell when the sun was setting, it just got darker and then all of the sudden we saw the moon. It was huge and full, like we could just reach out and touch it. And the smoke gave it a crazy deep orange glow. We retreated to our tents, and in true sleepover style, we stayed up late talking about anything and everything. I felt so comforted and safe with those ladies in their sleeping bags just feet from me. I am so grateful for the wonderful friendships I have with them. This trip, like Suzanne’s trip on the John Muir Trail, was not about the destination, heck we couldn’t see a thing! But it was much more about the journey and the connections we strengthened between each other.

We found our connection to each other, our place within wildness. The John Muir Trail was more than a completed goal. We didn’t conquer the mountains; instead, we learned to feel safe walking among them, to feel more at home in nature. And with each step we came closer to knowing ourselves.

 

Almost Somewhere by Suzanne Roberts

 

Book Ends

Outdoor Life

Hidden Lake Lookout

For my birthday weekend my husband and I packed up Evie and doggie Nali to go camping at Marble Creek Campground. We planned it so that I could go for a solo hike on my birthday to get to my goal of 50 peaks. I decided on Hidden Lake Peak as the grand finale. It’s arguably one of the most beautiful trails in the Cascades and I wanted something challenging. And for an added bonus, there’s a lookout at the top.

We snagged a river-front spot and set up camp. Evie helped me set up the tent (she did actually mostly help!) and we lazed around eating snacks. We brought an Evie-sized chair, but she mostly just wanted to sit it one of our grown-up chairs, sitting up and very proud of herself. One of her favorite things to say these days is “sit down.” We had a bit of a panic moment when we couldn’t find her binky. We only brought one and we knew that getting to sleep was going to be an issue if we didn’t find it asap. We searched for like two hours, scouring the cars and campsite but couldn’t find it. We decided it was just going to have to be the day she gives up the binky cold turkey.

We went for a walk and found a path leading down to Marble Creek. There were gorgeous sandy beaches and the water was cold and turquoise. We sat on the shore and threw rocks for Nali to chase in the water. We had to keep Evie from walking straight into the water. That girl has no fear. We played in the sand and collected rocks until it was dinner time and headed back to camp for a dinner of burgers.

I was very nervous about the missing binky as bedtime approched, but it turned out fine. Evie fussed and cried but eventually fell asleep and I was actually happy that it happened this way. It is much harder to resist giving into her when I have a choice, but this time I had nothing to give her. As I’m writing this, it’s been four days and last night was the first time since that fateful day that she went right to sleep without a peep. Yay! My husband and I distracted ourselves from her cries with a game. We’ve had Bananagrams for years and finally decided to get it out and try it. It’s basically a speed version of scrabble and got hooked.

The next morning my husband made breakfast and I geared up for the day’s climb to Hidden Lake Peak. I lingered for a while before convincing myself that it was time to go off on my own. I said my goodbyes and headed to the trailhead, just a few miles down the road. I noticed that the sky was white and wondered if it was fog or smoke from forest fires. As I started out on the trail, it was clear that it was smoke. The smoke affects the sunlight differently than fog. It filters the sunlight, where fog tends to fully block it. The sun appeared as an eerie orange orb and a fiery orange glow lit up the forest.

After a short and steep climb through the forest I popped out into an open meadow. Now the severity of the smoky haze was apparent. I could hardly see across to the peaks above the valley and looking down was a complete white-out. It was even worse than I thought. The flowers in the meadow made up for the lack of views and the filtered sun made for nice photos, but I was really hoping the smoke would go away.

The trail climbs, sometimes quite steeply, through an open avalanche chute covered in flowers. It was a spectacular display, one of the best I’ve seen in the Cascades. I stopped to catch my breath and took way too many photos. There were lots of small water crossings and I plunged a bandana in the cool water to wrap around the back of my neck. It helped. Eventually, I was above the gulley and the trail mellowed a bit through high alpine heather and granite. Although there were plenty of people on the trail, it was quiet. So quiet. I didn’t hear even a single bird call or pika squeak. With the lack of wildflowers up high, the white of the sky and the white and brown of the granite and trail, it felt like sensory deprivation.

But I continued on and soon the lookout was in view. The descriptions of the trail warned me that it would seem like there is no possible way to get up to the lookout. I already knew this yet I still gaped up at the mountain and wondered how the heck I was going to get up there. It seemed impossible. I was tired and the smoke was giving me a headache. I couldn’t see any of the spectacular views that were supposed to be had and now the trail was getting hard to follow. I emerged on a saddle above Hidden Lake and looked at it with disgust. I could barely make out the outline of the lake and the jagged peaks that surround it, my beloved North Cascade peaks, were obscured by thick smoke.

I thought of turning back, but then I reasoned that getting up to the lookout would brighten my spirits. I followed cairns that led me back and forth between a steep exposed trail and a scrambling route. I did my best to not look down and just go up. I saw that the lookout was much closer now but I still wondered how the heck I was going to get up there. It is vicariously perched on a pile of boulders. They didn’t bother to put a catwalk or even an entryway for that matter on the thing, due to the shear drop-offs on all sides. And when I reached the door it was closed. I could hear people inside, but didn’t want to bother them. I shuffled back down the rocks to the saddle, waited for my nerves to calm and then ate some food.

Instead of appreciating my alone time and reflecting on my 35 years and whatever, I really just wanted to get down the mountain. I was sad that I was expecting an epic hike and didn’t get it. I was sad about the smoky air and that the whole state (and British Columbia for that matter) seems to be on fire. This is not what it was like when we moved here over a decade ago and I’m worried that the smoky summers like this one and last year will become normal or worse.

But as I hiked down the smoke began to clear just a tiny bit. I could make out the green of the meadows and as the wildflowers came back into view, I realized just how beautiful it really was. I even noticed later that there was even some blue sky in my photos. After all these years, it is still an important reminder to find beauty everywhere, even if I have to work to seek it out.

Outdoor Life

Mount Sawyer

As the weekend rolled around I realized that I need to hike three more peaks in ten days to get to my goal of 50 peaks by 35! This time my husband and Evie came with me to Mount Sawyer. I chose this one because it is relatively easy for carrying up a toddler and I saw from the latest trip reports that lovely wildflowers were blooming.

It was a cool day, one where the fog hung lazily in the valleys and the vegetation on the trail was covered in perfect little drops of water. Evie walked about a quarter mile, investigating the ferns and practicing a new word she learned, “up.” Once she plunked herself down in the middle of the trail, we knew it was time for her to go into the carrier. After a little coaxing with a snack, she settled in for the ride.

The trail gently follows Tonga Ridge through hemlock with occasional openings to the south revealing Mount Hinman and Mount Daniel, both capped in snowfields. Fireweed lined the trail along with large red paintbrush, the occasional tiger lily. The farther we walked, the more diverse the species got. I spotted some white pine and fir trees and it seemed like each clearing revealed different flowers: purple penstemon and aster, sitka valerian.

After a couple miles we reached the turn off for Mount Sawyer. The trail climbs steeply up on eroding tread before returning to a more gradual incline. It was not too long until we were above treeline with sweeping views of the valley. The flowers gave way to a hillside full of blueberries. They were not quite ripe yet, but I managed to find a handful of good ones. I snacked on a few and carried the rest to the top to share with my husband and Evie.

The trail takes a long sweep along the backside before the last push to the summit. From there, you could see the views to the north along with a distinct layer of hazy smoke from wildfires. We just made out Glacier Peak in an orange hazy glow and Sloan Peak along its side.

There are lots of little spur trails on the summit and I wandered around to find different perspectives. We lingered for a while as Evie explored and climbed on rocks and ate her usual peanut butter and jelly sandwich. When we had enough, we packed up and headed back down the mountain through the flowers again.

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

Dog Mountain

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

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

 

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

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

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

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

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

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Hikes Featured in this Post:
Dog Mountain

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Outdoor Life

Evergreen Mountain Lookout

This year for my birthday all I wanted was to spend the day with my husband and go for a hike. We chose to go to Evergreen Mountain because it checks all of my pregnancy hike boxes, which is really just one: short. And, bonus, it’s a lookout! Double bonus: blueberries!

We got lots of elevation out of the way on the long drive to the trailhead which was much appreciated as we hit the trail in the heat of the day. Luckily there were lots of huckleberries to distract from my frequent stops to catch my breath. The trail is short but it’s a bit steep in the beginning and I was a little worried as I looked up to our destination.

But as we continued on, the trail mellowed through some trees providing much needed shade. From there it was just one final push to the top. We were extra happy to find that the whole upper side of the mountain was completely covered in ripe blueberries. We paused to munch away vowing to harvest them on the descent.

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Where there wasn’t blueberries there were wildflowers pink and white inviting us higher. It was mostly Sitka valerian, spirea, and pink heather, some of my favorites. Soon enough, the lookout and Glacier Peak came into view.

The lookout was not open but we had the place  to ourselves so we huddled against the shaded side of the structure. We ate our lunch and identified the surrounding peaks: Monte Cristo, Columbia, Sloan, and of course, Glacier Peak.

It was just three years ago when we climbed that mountain and my how things have changed. Being pregnant, I sometimes forget how it was in the not so distant past when I was un-pregnant. I miss spending a full day on a long, grueling but ultimately rewarding hike and then waking up the next day and doing it all over again. I miss checking off summits and feeling like I earned my exhaustion, not just feeling exhausted because I got out of bed today. Sometimes I think I will never have the energy or time to climb mountains again, but I know that’s not true. My “to be climbed” list just has a new title: “to be climbed someday with my kid.” Man, I really hope she likes mountains…

Hike Featured in this Post:

Evergreen Mountain Lookout

Book Club

Summer Summit

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Summer Book by Tove Jansson

 

Book Ends

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Outdoor Life

Kelly Butte Lookout

One of my favorite things to do in the summer is climb to lookouts. My first of this year was Kelly Butte on the July 4th weekend. My husband drove us to the trailhead through a meandering of forest roads and I was surprised at the chill in the air when I opened my car door at the trailhead.

Clouds clung to the top the mountain and I was positive we’d be socked in at the top, but every now and then the sun would poke out to give us a little hope of views at the top.

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The trail starts out lazily on an old continuation of the road through forest. We let Nali off the leash to run free and smell all the smells. Soon we arrived at the official trailhead where it abruptly switchbacks up and up through some fascinating geologic features. One particular rock outcrop looks like stairs and I joked that we could just climb up them for a shortcut.

Instead we kept to the narrow trail rising along the steep slope. I read that originally this area had a makeshift climbers trail that had to be scrambled up. While this seems plausible, I was happy for the tread.

Once cresting the steep section the trail opens up into broad meadows. Red paintbrush, blue lupine and white beargrass painted the slopes in patriotic splendor as the grade eased to mellow.

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The sun still poked in and out of fast-moving low clouds. We delightedly watched them whip by. As we climbed we entered an alpine forest shrouded in fog. The white of the beargrass stood out on the background of dark green meadow like constellations. Soon we caught a glimpse of the lookout in the mist.

The lookout was open and we let ourselves in to take shelter from the cold and enjoy our lunch. We were amazed at the care that was taken to keep the lookout in amazing shape. The structure was originally built in the 1920’s and rebuilt several times with the latest restoration in 2011. A nice plaque hangs commemorating the volunteer effort to preserve this piece of history.

As we ate our pb & j sandwiches the wind picked up and whistled through the rafters. As usual while in a lookout, I thought about what it would be like to be there during a storm and got a little thrill in my stomach. I felt safe and secure in the lookout and lingered as long as possible.

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Before leaving I flipped through the register notebook. Not many people had been there recently, in fact we only saw a few others on the trail that day. I scribbled a line for me, my husband and the dog and then almost as an afterthought, added a plus one. I scribbled “and Baby G (16 weeks pregnant!)” with a big smile on my face. As we put on our jackets to head back down the trail I hoped that our baby could feel he happiness, love and contentment I felt on that mountain.

Hikes Featured in this Post:

Kelly Butte

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