Squeezed between Mt. St. Helen's and Mt. Rainier

Last Tuesday finally brought us beautiful backpack weather. Yes....I am a fair weather backpacker when possible. Ben and I had been packed, and watching the weather reports since Sunday. I knew that some of this trip was going to be along a ridge line, and I do not want to be hiking on a ridge line if there is any chance of lightening. So we watched and waited. Tuesday morning it was a GO!

We jumped in the Jeep and drove like crazy up to our trail head, which was two hours north of us toward Seattle up I-5. We navigated through several small towns and up a logging road before our boots finally hit the trail. I pecked a fast kiss on Jim. He promised to meet us on Friday at the end of the trail, on the other side of the mountain range from where we now stood. He said that he would have cold drinks waiting for us...

Hot damn, we were finally on our way!

The first couple of miles are spectacular. There is a waterfall that can't be appreciated with out actually standing in the fine spray that it gives off while you hike the trail that goes behind it. We saw several bikes laying along side the trail while we walked, but no people. It was very strange. We wondered where all the bike riders were!?!

As we walked on we passed more abandoned bikes laying along side the trail. It wasn't until maybe mile four that we past a group of kids and a few adults walking the trail toward us. They called out to us as they past. The kids were very interested in the fact that we were headed out for a four day three night trip into the wilderness. It turned out that these were the owners of the bikes. They had felt the trail too dangerous for bikes, so they walked it for awhile before heading back to the start.

We made several creek crossing, not giving them much thought until Ben slipped on a rock and gashed his hand deeply. It gushed blood for awhile before we stopped, so Ben could do a little mini surgery to get the sand out of the gash. We gathered up the first aid supplies that we had between us, and got the wound cleaned up pretty well. It was evening by now but we had not past any camping spots. Ben was in a little pain but we pushed on until down off the trail down a slope we spotted a fire ring. I made the decision that, although it wasn't an ideal spot to spend the night, it didn't look bad--I figured a bird in the hand is better than a bird in the bush. So we slid down the slope and made camp for the night.

Unfortunately water was a little further down from us than we’d prefer, but Ben bushwhacked his way down and back while I got a fire going. In the morning I decided to head out early alone. I found myself in some pretty thick forest, with waterfalls greeting me at every turn. I had unhooked my bear bell when left camp, and was glad that I had. The tinkling it makes as I walk is a warning to any big furry animals that I am coming down the path. A surprised bear can be a mean bear, so I tinkled my way through the woods alone until Ben caught up with me a couple of hours later.

The first two days of this hike was a steady uphill trod. I just kept telling myself how good it is for my butt. This gives me the will to keep going up on long hill stretches! By early afternoon we had climbed up to a ridge where there was a spur trail that would take us down to the lake, where we planned to spend our second night. Our information said it was down two quick switchbacks, than down a short trail to the lake shore. Well.....turns out not exactly. It was two long, steep switchbacks and then an almost straight down slide into camp. But what a beautiful, remote, camp and lake it was!

We set up our little tents and Bella (Ben's trail dog) headed for the lake as soon as we took her backpack off. She jumped in and started swimming. We joined here as soon as our tents were up. That cold water was heavenly.

Just as we were settling down for the night, here came a man and a woman sliding down the short trail into our camp. It was eight o'clock in the evening and the light was starting to fade. They said a fast hello and headed for the other side of the lake. We couldn't imagine where they came from so late in the day, but these two were trail people, and didn't give us a second of concern.

I was not looking forward to the crawl back up to the ridge line in the morning. I went to sleep hoping that there would be a better way back up to the main trail. When we crawled out of our sleeping bags, I was thrilled to find that mosquitoes didn't seem to be active yet. Usually in July you do not want to be anywhere near a lake in this area of the country. We had two bottles of eucalyptus spray in our packs if we needed to ward off the little blood suckers. I was very happy to pack up and head out unbitten.

We hunted around a bit and did find an easier trail back to the switchbacks. This was a stroll through the woods that I welcomed--much nicer than crawling on my hands and knees in the dirt back up the other way!

We didn't have a long day of walking our third day out. We just hopped from one lake over to another about four miles away. This lake is named "Dead Mans Lake", and is just off the main trail. It is half full of sand that was blown out of Mt. St. Helen's when it blew its top off in 1980, so, because of this, a nice sand beach greeted us. I immediately started to set up my tent and gather firewood. I go into nesting mode when we hit camp, and the cold water was calling to me to come take a dip......and then it happened. A bite. And then another bite. And then I was swarmed with a cloud of mosquitoes. I dove into my tent yelling and swatting while Ben stood and watched the show. "They don't seem to care about me" he said as fifty of the little buggers sat on the netting of my tent licking there chops waiting for me to run for the lake. All my lovely white, tasty, flesh was just out of their reach. He was right. They weren't interested in him, all their love was for me. I went to sleep with buzzing in my ears, cuss words on my lips, and my flesh bathed in eucalyptus oil. My personal plan for the morning was to be up, and away from that lake as soon as I possibly could. Ben could fend for himself. Actually, I would offer him as a sacrifice. Maybe they would go for him. Perhaps I would be able to escape on up the mountain without being eaten alive. I realized that lake is named correctly: "Dead Mans Lake". Someone most likely had been sucked to death there.

Just one more steep climb was ahead of me before reaching the ridge of heavenly views that was our goal. This was our last day hiking and it was going to be spectacular. I was looking forward to the sight of Mt. Rainier on my left, Mt. St. Helen's on right, Mt. Adam on the horizon ahead of me, and my old friends Mt. Hood and Mt. Jefferson to the south. I was going to be able to see all five of these volcanoes from the ridge I was heading toward.

Bella and I left camp early. She was as anxious to get away from the lake as I was, and we made good time up to the top of the mountain. Our plan was to wait at the top for Ben, under some shade. But we found out that there was a problem with this plan once we got there: The mosquitoes were waiting for us up there now. They were twice as bad in the shade. So for 70 minutes we jumped, hopped, slapped, and ran around in circles in the hot sun while Rainier, St. Helen's, Adams and even my old friends Hood and Jefferson laughed at us.

Bella kept running on down the trail hoping that we were going to just keep walking. As long as we were moving our blood was harder to suck, but I didn't want to go on any further without Ben. So we hopped, and slapped, and did the mosquito dance until he showed up. I was v-e-r-y glad when I spotted him in the distance making his way up toward us. When he arrived I was throwing on my pack, ready to run down the trail away from the vampires, when Ben said to me, "Did you see the mountains? You can't let the mosquitoes ruin it for you!" As I was running away I yelled, "I saw them!!!!!!!!"

We did two miles on the ridge with not much shade. Bella had her hiking trail boots on so her feet would not burn on the hot rock and ash that made up the trail that we were now walking on. On our left was forest, green and lush. On our right, utter devastation. St. Helen's had blown down all the trees here when she blew up. The trail started to quickly drop once we again hit the tree line and switch backed down to the valley where Jim would pick us up. We past two men sitting by the side of the trail here. They asked me where I was coming from and when I told them they said, "That’s Awesome!"

When we hit the end of the trail Jim was not there yet, so we dropped our gear and settled in to wait. The picture of Bella at the top of this page is at the end of the trail: She sums this trip up pretty good: Tired, but satisfied! Our faithful drop off/pick up guy showed up with cold drinks and fresh salads.

A really great end to a really great hike....well, all except for those stupid mosquitoes!

To Pack or Not To Pack--that is the question

I grew up watching westerns where everybody carried a gun. Yet I can't remember my folks owning a gun. If they did, it wasn't discussed, or known by me.

I do remember that my Dad kept a wooden club behind his bedroom door, handy to bash the brains out of anyone who tried to break into our house. I pittied the fool who might try to go up against my Dad and his club!

Owning a gun is a big topic of discussion among some of my children these days. I have been advised by some of them to carry a pistol with me when I backpack, or when we travel in our little travel trailer.

I have resisted this idea.

We never had a gun in the house when our kids were growing up. I felt the risk of a kid finding it and then accidentally shooting themselves, or someone else, was too great.

I have heard people say, "If you think you need to pack a gun into the wildness, then you shouldn't be out in the wildness." In some ways I agree with this statement. If you are overly scared of what might be out in the woods that you can't enjoy yourself, don't go into the woods.

Yet....it isn't really what is out in the woods that is making me think about carrying a pistol. It is the humans on the trails that is making me revisit the idea of carrying a weapon.

I have never quit a hike because I felt 'uneasy'. Not until yesterday.

Ben and I were frustrated by our aborted Wahtum Lake to the gorge hike. Plus we both wanted to get away from the fourth of July fireworks war zone that our neighborhood turns into.

A nice stay in the woods sounded like a good idea, so we head off for an over-nighter out in Eagle creek. Not "THE Eagle creek" in the Columbia gorge, but the little known Eagle creek out in the Estacada area of Oregon.

The trailhead is down a bumping dirt road, and the trail is remote and not well used. We felt this was the perfect place to get away from all the fireworks, to spend a night in the forest. It was 2:30 in the afternoon when our boots stood at the beginning of the path. Ben's little truck was the only vehicle parked by the little sign that marked the start of the hike.

It was a wonderful old growth rain forest that crowed in on both sides of the trail while we walked steadily down hill toward the sound of the creek. We were walking along at a steady clip for an hour and a half, when Ben glanced back over his shoulder at me. He saw two people making their way down the trail behind us. "People" he said to me. I pulled up and we stood to the side of the trail to allow them to pass us. As they approached I looked at my watch. It was 4:00pm. I noted that they were both in there late 20's. A male and a female. They weren't carrying backpacks, which seemed a little odd since it was getting late in the day to start a day hike. I don't like to make snap judgments about people, but these two were dressed in black and didn't look like 'trail' people.

They walked on by us, and on down the trail. Ben and I stood for a moment before following behind them. We walked on for about 20 feet when we both held up again and stood in the middle of the trail. "Do you think they are OK?" Ben asked me. "I don't know" I replied.

Ben's wilderness senses were tingling, which made me pause and also think about our situation.

We were far off the beaten path. It was late in the day on a major holiday. Two out of place individuals had just gone ahead of us on a trail that we were not familiar with, and Ben's wilderness senses were picking up something that he wasn't comfortable with.

We turned around and hiked back to the truck. When your wildness senses tingle, you need to pay attention. Something was not right about the situation, but even more important then that.....when your senses are tingling, you better pay attention.

This whole situation has gotten me to thinking about the value of carrying a pistol with me.

Would it stop a bear? Probably not. Could I even hit a bear if I tried to shoot it? Probably not.

It isn't the four legged animals that really concern me or the reason I might put a pistol in my pack-- sometimes it's the two legged ones that make me go hmmmmmmmm...

Wahtum Lake to Columbia Gorge 06/1-4/2010 ABORT!

HOLY HELL! >:(

I realize that the weather in this area of the world is very difficult to predict. I also realize that this year (2010) it has been a very unusual year for weather.

But I still think that when a TV station calls it's self "Acu-weather" for what I assume is suppose to mean "accurate" weather, they would know the difference between "slight chance of drizzle" over "the sky is dumping its guts out all over you."

We had originally planned this trip to leave on Wednesday, but the 'slight chance of drizzle' made us hold off until Thursday. We arrived at Wahtum Lake last night at around 6:30 in the evening. Jim set up dinner (meat loaf, potatoes, and carrots, that I had baked earlier in the day at home) on a picnic table at the trail head. He then started a wonderful, cheerful, fire to eat by.

I set up the tent, while Ben gathered firewood. It was decided that Jim would sleep in the tent with me, and Ben and the dogs would sleep in the Jeep.

In the morning Ben and I were to set out on our hike. Jim would pick us up down in the Columbia gorge on Sunday afternoon.

OK! Great! We had a plan!

Before going to bed I wandered over to the outhouse that is provided by the forest service. It is such a luxury to actually sit on a toilet in the woods. I didn't want to miss this opportunity. When I went to reel off some toilet paper the most awful, loud, high pitched groan screeched out from the paper dispenser. It made me jump to my feet, dropping my pants down on the yucky floor.

It was getting full dark, so I hurried back toward the firelight where the fellas were waiting.

When I cozied up to the heat, I noticed that Jim was staring intently out into the darkness back in the direction I had just come from. "Did you hear that animal?" He asked. I said, "No" and looked back over my shoulder. He continued, "It was sort of a loud groan......" his voice trailed off into the darkness that was gathering in around us. Than it hit me what he was talking about.

I smiled, and tried not to laugh when I said softly, "That was the toilet paper dispenser in the outhouse." We all had a laugh at our wild beast.

Ben and I were planning on an early start in the morning, so we all crawled into our sleeping bags, in our assigned spots. Over head the slight sound of rain started to pitter-patter on the top of the tent. I was not worried. I had already thought about rain as a possibility, because I know that the weather forecasters in this area are all full of rotten, stinking, horse manure.

Earlier when I had chosen the area to set up our tent, I had studied the area very closely. I avoided all the low places. I put the tent fly on very tightly, making sure that the guide lines were pulled taunt. This way any rain would flow off the tent fly and not into the tent. It is also important to remember to tuck any ground cloth up under the sides of the tent so water won't run underneath.

Yes, I felt very smart. Very prepared, when the first little drops of friendly rain started to fall on our beautiful spot in nature. Jim was set up across from me on a Big Agnes insulated sleeping mat, in Ben's rated to zero down sleeping bag. He was snug as a bug in a burrito. I rolled over to settle into my down Mountain Hardwear sleeping bag to the sound of deer lightly stepping through our camp.

I gazed lovingly over at my darling husbands face peeking out from his bag. He isn't into backpacking, but he goes out of his way to support me. Sometimes the drive out to different trail heads is pretty far, so he will spend the night with us, like he was this night. My heart swelled with appreciation for him.

Off and on during the night I listened to the rain. I wasn't worried. Oh no not me! I had prepared! I am backpacking woman!! Fear no rain when you are with me!

Jim snored pleasantly beside me. This was my signal that he was sleeping warmly. No worries.

At four in the morning I could not ignore the call of nature that my bladder was yelling at me. I had been waiting for the rain to let up for about an hour, or more. It just continued to pour down steady, so I made my break out of the tent.

Jim was hot on my heels. He had put on my headlamp and was wildly swing the light all around the camp. "It's four in the morning....and it is not going to stop raining!" he stated over to where I was squatting on the ground.

After we crawled back into the tent I noticed that the floor over by Jim was wet. He had stuffed his heavy jacket into the corner of the tent. I picked it up and it was completely soaked with water. I checked the bottom of his sleeping bag....soaked! His sleeping pad had turned into a raft!!!! I was on the dry side of the tent, but poor Jim had been laying up against the side of the tent, allowing water to pool all around him.

"Are you cold?" I questioned. "No" he answered. "OK, let's go back to sleep and deal with this in the morning." I rolled over and dreamed deeply....this is just a bump in the road to me.

In the morning I look over at Jim and he said, "Now tell me again.....why do you like this?" I said something stupid about the sound of the rain on the tent, and nature, and being away from civilization. He didn't say anything for a few minutes and then said, "Let's get the hell out of here."

While driving back to Vancouver with a car full of wet gear the sky turned blue, and the sun came out. We took our jackets off and rolled down the windows.

Do you think that it is murder to shoot a TV weather person?