Hiking History: Northrup Canyon
When the time comes for April showers, the high and dry desert of Central Washington beckons with its sunshine. Last year, when that time came, we took Evie on her first camping trip with some friends to Steamboat Rock State Park. It rained and rained as we traveled over Snoqualmie Pass until blue skies replaced the gray clouds. It’s a long drive from Seattle, and we had to stop several times for diaper changes, feedings, and doggie breaks but it’s also a beautiful drive. As the sun was going down, it warmed the air and filtered into soft oranges and pinks.
The next day we headed to Northrup Canyon for a hike. The first thing I noticed was how green and lush this canyon was in contrast to the dry and rocky Grand Coulee. There was even a stand of green aspens that seemed out of place to me. As we walked along an old road bed, we noticed some old metal artifacts just off the trail. Then we saw more. And more. Soon the land turned into a legit sea of rust (see photo on the Just Peachy blog). I was surprised that a state park would leave all of this rusty trash and not clean it up. I later learned, however, that the sea of rusty cans were left by the workers who came to build the Grand Coulee Dam, and were now actually protected as historical artifacts. A fine line between trash and history, I suppose…
According to Judy Bentley, author of Hiking Washington’s History, John W. Northrup settled in the canyon in 1874. He built a barn, planted an apple orchard, and rigged up an irrigation system to farm the land. As we walked along the trail it was evident where the farming took place, in a large flat meadow in the valley of the canyon. Northrup seemed to have chosen well since this canyon is noticeably green and full of water, sometimes literally, as the creek overflowed out into the flat field. We traveled along a rocky outcrop at the base of the towering basalt walls to avoid the puddles. We stepped carefully, as this seemed like prime real estate for rattlesnakes, and sure enough, we came across one.
After a mile or so, we arrived at Northrup’s homestead. There were several crumbling wooden buildings, including a somewhat modern looking house, a barn, a wooden water tower, and a long chicken coup. The apple trees were still there too. After Northrup died, his wife and daughter took over the ranch until the widow was murdered at the homestead in 1903 by a rancher over a land dispute. The man also murdered his own wife in the same incident. Despite the murders, several generations of Northups lived and farmed on the land.
Joella Davisson married John Northrup’s son, George, and then later divorced. Joella stayed at the homestead with their six children and ran the ranch. She became known as “The Canyon Lady.” She was a midwife and healer, and she took in many young men who helped her manage the property as she “set them straight.” She became the life force of the ranch and it became a popular picnic and recreation area due to her welcoming charm. The ranch continued to thrive even after the Northrups moved on. New owners continued to ranch cattle and farm the land until the 1976 when it was sold to Washington State Parks as part of Steamboat Rock State Park.
We continued our hike past the old chicken coop and up through ponderosa on a single track trail. We passed above several lakes, which surprised me, until we arrived at Northrup Lake. The lake is said to be a decent fishing spot, but we couldn’t find good access for my husband to try it out. Instead we lazed on the shore and enjoyed the nice weather.
I didn’t know much about the canyon before we visited, but it is so steeped in history and surprises. Another surprising thing I learned about Northrup Canyon is that eagles flock there in the winter time to nest. According to the WTA website, as many as 200 eagles roost in the trees along the canyon as they are supplied by the fish of nearby Banks Lake. The trail is closed from November to March to help protect them.
I hope to go back and explore more of this area, maybe as an autumn trip next time.