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

Shriner Peak Lookout

An old friend and I hiked up to the Shriner Peak Lookout on a foggy August morning. It’s been a dry summer. The moisture collected on the leaves and trees, though the forest still clung to a dryness that was palpable. My friend is an avid birder and we listened for bird calls as we walked. He called them out as we heard them: raven, steller’s jay, junko, robin.

After a few miles, the trail opened up to what I imagined were fabulous views, though all we saw were occasional masses of trees layered in clouds. Fireweed towered overhead and my friend picked a leaf for me to chew on. I didn’t know that fireweed was edible and I enjoyed its nice peppery flavor. We climbed on, the fog allowing us to only focus on what was immediately around us. Glowing white orbs of spider webs, soaked mushrooms, and ripe huckleberries. A spritely pika alerted us to its presence just off the trail and we watched as it collected some vegetation and scurried off.

Higher on the mountain, pristine green meadows revealed themselves. Although we had seen plenty of sign of deer or elk, they did not grace us with their majestic presence in the meadows. Bummer. In one particular area, though, it seemed we had been temporarily transported back to my childhood. Emerald green false hellebore towered over my head. The large stalk with wide flat leaves and its trailing clustered flowers made me feel like I was in a foggy cornfield back in Pennsylvania. I had never seen such a dense field of it before.

Finally we spotted the lookout as it emerged from the clouds. One of four in Mt Rainier National Park, the charming two-story lookout was built in 1932.  The fog was starting to clear in patches and we sat on the catwalk and watched the clouds roll by. It felt like we could have been sitting in an airplane. We sat facing where we knew Mt Rainier was, as though we could clear the clouds with our minds. It didn’t work, so we ate our sandwiches instead. A stiff cold breeze froze us until the sun broke through to thaw us again.

We didn’t linger very long in the cold and soon headed back down the mountain. The weather seemed to change with every switchback. The sun came out and we were sure that the mountain would come out for us as we picked some blueberries on the high slopes. As we re-entered the forest, we turned to see a wall of clouds and rain that seemed to come out of nowhere. It showered on us just long enough for me to consider getting out my rain jacket and when I finally decided I should, it stopped and the sun came out again. I shed a layer instead. We soaked up all the sun we could to justify a stop at Wapati Woolies for arguably the best huckleberry shake on the planet.

Hiking Washington’s Fire Lookouts by Amber Casali

As you can imagine, I was SO EXCITED to see this book released recently. Amber Casali has given us a gift- an updated guide book to the lookouts of Washington State. This full-color book has all the details you need to visit as many as you can, including how to access them and some history. There is even a checklist in the back of the book that makes my list-making brain happy.

 

 

 

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.

Outdoor Life

Mount Catherine

I was not excited about this one. I decided to go at the last minute and wasn’t mentally prepared. I needed to find a peak for 50 by 35 with a short trail that I could take Evie on. This one seemed doable, but the guide book gave it a rating of 2 out of 5 stars. I mean really? I figure any hike that gets you to the top of a mountain with some decent views should get at least 3 stars. Anyway, then I also read that the road to the trailhead was rough and some people were parking along the road adding an extra 2 miles to the round trip. Lastly, I found that there was a steep section at the top that required a little scramble with a cable rope. This normally would not be an issue, but could I do it by myself with Evie on my back?

I decided to try it anyway. I could always turn around if I got uncomfortable. I packed up Evie and tried to figure out what I forgot while I drive to the trailhead. I tripled checked that I had my hiking boots since just a few weeks ago I forgot them (yep, I was that lady hiking in flip flops with a baby on my back, oops) and realized that I forgot my hiking poles that I like to use with Evie. Oh well, could be worse.

 

When I got to the rough part of the road I got out to take a look. It seemed not too bad and I was driving our high clearance wagon, but when I’m by myself with Evie, I tend to get extra cautious. I sat and waited assuming someone would be coming up behind me soon. Sure enough a big Suburban came by. The driver, a seasoned mom with a gaggle of kids in the back got out to look. She decided it was no problem for her and asked me if I wanted a ride. I said no thanks and watched her go on with little hesitation, admiring her confidence. I sat and waited a little longer. Sure, we could have just walked from there, but I really didn’t want to do the extra road walk, especially in the heat of summer. Then I just started up the car and went for it. And was completely fine.

 

The short trail heads up from the beginning. It wasn’t terribly difficult, but Evie is getting terribly heavy. I had put her sun shade on and she was grabbing it, pulling it down onto my head. Whatever, I thought, at least it’s a short trail. When she started screaming and pulling my hair, I stopped and put her down. I realized she had dropped her prized fox lovey. I was debating between going back to find it or to just continue and find it on the way back down, when a kind man found it and brought it up to us. Crisis adverted, but just for a few switchbacks until she started screaming again. I put her down, tried to feed her everything in my bag, checked her diaper, offered water, did all the things and nothing worked. I just sat there thinking about what to do when she calmed down a little bit and started walking up the trail. Of course, why didn’t I think of it before? She just wanted to walk on her own.

She walked up the switchbacks like a champ. We even passed some nice folks who were taking a break and they were impressed. She walked much longer than I expected, and as we neared the top, I knew I would have to get her back in the pack for the last scramble. Getting her into the pack was as difficult as I thought it would be and I apologized to other hikers for all the screaming. But finally she settled and I carried her up to the cable rope. It was a very short section and like earlier in the car, I just went for it without thinking about it too much. As I took the last few steps up, the group we saw earlier were there cheering us on. I looked back and wondered how the heck I was going to get back down, but for now I just needed to find a shady spot that wasn’t too close to the edge. When I put Evie down I realized I was shaking.

 

We took in the views of Mt Rainier, Snoqualmie Pass, and the surrounding peaks. Butterflies fluttered by without a care in the world. While Evie ate her PB&J, I discovered the summit register in a box under the tree that was shading us. I made our climb official and carefully tucked the register back in the box. It was nice, but I was eager to get down. I struck up a conversation with a nice couple who had a 4-year-old at home. They gave me some tips and I asked if I could go with them down the initial scramble. They found an easier way for me to get down and followed behind me to make sure I got down ok. When they headed off ahead of me they told me if I needed anything to just holler down the trail. This small act of kindness made my heart sing.

 

I sang to Evie on the descent and she quickly fell asleep. At the trailhead I gingerly scooped her up out of the carrier. Her head rested on my shoulder and I hugged her in tight for a minute before lowering her down into the carseat still asleep. This had never happened before, she always wakes up when I pick her up. But every day now she is changing and growing. No longer satisfied with the constraints of the backpack, she is becoming independent and strong-willed. My baby is now a toddler.

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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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

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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Outdoor Life

Park Butte Lookout

This crazy Northwest summer has me reminiscing of the Septembers with blue skies and blueberries. I guess I have spent too many weekends at foggy lookouts lately and deprived of my usual blueberry intake! But my trip up to Park Butte a couple years ago was anything but foggy. It was a bluebird day, the temperature perfect and there were blueberries for days. Ahh, how sublime.

The long drive to the trailhead gets you high into the alpine from the get-go. It’s not long before you come upon Shreiber’s Meadow, in most years full of blueberries. I once saw a woman here picking blueberries with a swedish berry picker and a 5-gallon bucket. She gave me the stink eye like, don’t even think about picking berries here, so I kept walking and a made a mental note of the berry picker. Later my husband would gift one to me for Christmas and it has changed our berry-loving lives. We now bring home gallon ziploc bags full of berries from the trails instead of a couple half-filled Nalgene bottles.

Once past the meadows, pick your way across an alluvial plain, an ever-changing waterway with shifting sediment that keeps the bridge builders on their toes. Look upriver for a metal ladder bridge. Here you will get the first glimpses of the white mass of Mt Baker if you are lucky. Continue up through forested switchbacks. Just when you start to think that you’ve had enough switchbacks, the way opens up to beautiful meadows and up-close views of Mt Baker.

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Hang a left to the lookout or go right to explore the railroad grade trail up to Easton Glacier, a popular climbing route. The railroad grade trail traverses the top of an arête, a knife-edge formed from two parallel glaciers pushing earth up between them forming a thin ridge. Gazing at the massive glacial-carved valley below will have you marveling at the wonders of this volcano and the power of it’s glaciers.

Head back toward the lookout while froliking through the gradually climbing meadows of heather and blueberries. After rock hopping a few creeks and wet spots, the way rises through a rocky outcrop. Head down to the tarns for picturesque views of Mt Baker reflected in the crystal clear water. Continue up while gazing down upon Pocket Lake, nuzzled below in a small cirque.

Finally, after a push up the rocky way, the lookout is in site and views abound. It feels like you could reach out and touch the glaciers on Mt Baker. To the south, feast your eyes on the Twin Sisters range and the Nooksack Valley. The lookout is open to the public and can be slept in at a first-come, first-served basis. This is a great place to linger, bask in the sun and take in the beauty of one of my favorite places, the Mt Baker area.

 

Outdoor Life

Winchester Mountain Lookout

Every year for Labor Day weekend my husband and I go backpacking with another couple. It’s become a tradition for us and we look forward to it all year. I usually choose an epic hike in the North Cascades with spectacular scenery where we can roam and snack on blueberries for a couple days. But this year was different. We had a new addition to our crew- a little one-year-old. Hmph, well now, I had no idea how to plan for a baby. I don’t have any children and I don’t know the first thing about a one-year-old’s wilderness skills. I had so many questions. How far should we go? How much food do we need? Would the baby be miserable in the tent all night? Where do you put all those dirty diapers?

I was stressing to determine the answers to these questions. I immediately decided that I was not going to have anything to do with the dirty diapers, so in turn was not going to worry about their whereabouts. Our friends are amazing parents and I really didn’t have to worry about these kind of details. I just didn’t want them to be uncomfortable or to push them too hard. So I gave them some choices and was happy they chose an easy hike to Twin Lakes where we could base camp and explore as much as we wanted. Then I freaked out again because I checked the weather and it was going to be cold and rainy in the high alpine. Will baby freeze to death? Ugh.

We met our hiking partners at the charming Wake ‘n Bakery on the Mt Baker Highway and loaded up on delicious pastries and coffee. We then made our way to the busy Yellow Aster Butte trailhead and walked up the 4×4 road to Twin Lakes. The cold morning air gave way to sun and blue skies prompting us to take multiple breaks to shed layers. The road walk wasn’t so bad and we chose a particularly entertaining switchback to stop for a snack and watch the trucks struggle up the bumpy road. I’m sure they did not appreciate the audience.

We made it to the beautiful Twin Lakes but they were unfortunately surrounded by trucks and car campers. We walked to the far side of the upper lake to look for a more secluded site. A narrow boot path led around the lake and we followed it past a mine shaft (where we taught baby about echos) to a big camp spot. There was a faint path leading up to a tiny narrow saddle and we went up to explore expecting that it would just lead to a nice bathroom spot. Instead, what we saw took our breath away. The path came to an end abruptly and the ground plunged into a steep valley. Directly in front of us were the silvery jagged peaks of the Pleiades sprinkled with just a touch of fresh snow.

We quickly figured out that the farther down the road we went the more spectacular the views. We set up camp at Skagway Pass, an old mining route to the Lone Jack Mine which gave up $200,000 worth of gold to it’s original owners and is still active to this day, hence the high alpine road. The area is full of old open mine shafts in the ground and old cabins. The guys dropped rocks down the holes to see how far down they went. Not too far. We all laid in the heather and took a nice long nap. Later we made biscuits and pasta and squished water and chocolate pudding in ziploc bags for dessert.

That night as we went to sleep, it was so quiet you could hear a needle drop. It made me uncomfortable. I tossed and turned searching for just the tiniest hint of a breeze or rustle in the trees. I’ve been living in the city too long. Even in my quiet neighborhood I can always hear the soft hum of the I-5 highway, cars driving by, airplanes overhead. The baby cooed in the nearby tent and I hoped he was warm enough. I worried that the weather would turn bad the next day and snow on us. I knew I had to stop worrying, just let it go or I wouldn’t get any sleep. The baby fussed softly and his mom gave a long calm shhhhh. Rain (or was it snow?) began to lightly drum on the rain fly. I drifted to sleep.

The next day was foggy but there was no snow and the rain stopped. We packed up the baby and all our warm clothes and headed to Winchester Mountain. The trail climbs immediately between the lakes and we found ourselves shedding layers again. I was hoping maybe the clouds would burn off while we climbed, but I doubted it. I was disappointed. I was so looking forward to the stellar views. All we could see were the deep blue lakes below in a haze. The lookout was completely shrouded in fog when we arrived. We were only three miles from Canada as the crow flies. We could throw a stone and hit it but we sure could not see it.

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We met a friendly forest service worker and she told us the lookout was open, but asked us to remove our boots before going in. We complied. It was very zen. We had lunch in the lookout as we checked out every nook and cranny and I poured over the guest log entries and book collection. Mostly Edward Abbey and nature writing. I thought about what it would be like to spend the night there and decided that it would be incredibly cold. The layers started coming back on.

Later our friends and the baby would head down the road for a more comfortable night’s sleep and we bid them farewell at the lakes. It had been a successful first backpacking trip for baby and we were so happy to share it with them. We sat by the lake and watched the bats feast on the bugs surfacing the lake. They undoubtedly made their homes in the myriad of mine shafts nearby. We walked back to camp and climbed into our sleeping bags. It was quiet again without our friends but the rain returned and I drifted to sleep.

Backpacking Biscuits Recipe:

At home, mix the following ingredients in a ziploc bag:

1 cup biscuit mix (I use Fisher brand, but any will work)
2 Tbsp powdered milk
1 tsp dried parsley
1/4 cup dried corn
3 Tbsp grated parmesan (the shelf-stable kind that comes in a shaker, not fresh)

On the trail, put the mixture in a non-stick or greased pot approximately 6 inches diameter (the smaller the pot, the thicker the biscuits!). Start by adding 1/4 cup of water and add more if needed. Spread the mixture out and put on low heat covered for about 3 minutes or until the bottom is golden brown. Flip the biscuit “pancake” and cook covered for another few minutes until golden brown and cooked all the way through. Cut into quarters and enjoy them warmed.

Hikes featured in this post:
Winchester Mountain

Outdoor Life

Return to Green Mountain

The first time we went to Green Mountain was in 2006. We had just moved to Seattle two months before and it was our second hike in the Cascades. My sister and her then boyfriend joined us for the drive up the long washboard Suiattle River Road to the trailhead. It was a hot sunny September day and we got a late start. We sweltered in the heat on the exposed switchbacks slowly making our way up. My sister’s boyfriend wore brand new leather boots that required many re-applications of moleskin and we stopped a hundred times for breaks like classic rookie hikers. We finally stopped for lunch on a rocky outcropping. We were nearing the lookout that crowned the top of the mountain but we couldn’t see it from our lunch spot. I didn’t know how much further it was, but I knew we weren’t going to make it there that day. That was ok, we were just beginning a lifetime of exploration in our new home, we would have plenty of time to return. And anyway the views were fantastic from our vantage point, could they really be that much better at the lookout?

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We made our way back down the trail and re-traveled the long road in our old forest green Jetta, the muffler occasionally grazing the bumpy road. We watched the sun set behind Whitehorse Mountain and had dinner in Lake Stevens. By the time we got home it was dark. After that epic day we decided to stick to easier hikes before tackling a big mountain again. But I couldn’t wait to return to Green Mountain, the place where I fell in love with the Cascades and that mysterious Glacier Peak volcano. But just months after our hike, a strong winter storm washed out the Suiattle River Road and did not reopen until October of last year, a whopping eight years later. Over those years I longed to return and complete the hike to the lookout. So when I heard the road reopened I knew I had to return this summer.

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While the Suiattle River Road slumbered and the wild encroached on it’s edges of gravel, bureaucratic controversy around the fate of the road and the lookout roared to life. First, repairs to the road were delayed for years by extensive environmental studies brought on by environmental organizations. Then, Wilderness Watch, a  Montana-based environmental organization, sued the Forest Service in 2010 for violations to the Wilderness Act for using helicopters and other machinery to rebuild the 1930’s era lookout. This case went on for years until, shortly after the nearby Oso landslide in the spring of 2014, Congress passed a bill saving the lookout. Then finally, in late October 2014, the road was re-opened.

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In late July of this year my husband and I returned to the Suiattle River Road. It still had it’s jarring washboard just like we remembered. It was cloudy but we were determined to get there so we headed up the trail anyway. We were the first car at the trailhead and as we climbed through the trees I jogged my memory for any recognition of the trail. There was little and it was different than I remembered and a little creepy. We heard something rustle in the brush nearby and Nali was on alert. Then just as we were about to clear the treeline we heard a loud clap of thunder. We were now in thick fog and it was beginning to rain. The trail ahead was brushy and ready to soak us to the bone. We reconsidered. We didn’t want to be on the tallest mountain around inside of a thunderhead. It didn’t seem like the triumphant return we wanted anyway with little to no views so we headed back down and decided to try again later.

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I was really disappointed that we didn’t have good weather that day, but a month later (just a few weeks ago) we decided to give it another go for my birthday. Well, once again thunderstorms were in the forecast. We decided to car camp the first night during the storms and then backpack up to Green Mountain on the following day when the weather was supposed to improve. So we headed out with rain gear in tow to the newly re-opened Buck Creek Campground. The campground was about half open and the rest blocked off. We walked through the abandoned portion during a break in the rain to get water at the creek. It was eerie, like something out of a post-apocalyptic movie. Picnic tables were turned upside down and fire rings removed leaving a circular scar in the dirt. Fallen trees criss-crossed the gravel squares meant for tents.

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The next morning the rain stopped and we headed out early to hit the trailhead. Again we were the first ones there, and again it was cloudy and foggy. But we had faith that the forecast would be correct and that it would burn off any minute. So we climbed through the trees and this time continued into the open meadows above treeline. This time the trail was thankfully brushed out, but we still got wet. That was ok, we would dry everything in the sunshine later. As we climbed the switchbacks I tried to recall what is like the first time we were there and I remembered the slopes just full of green ferns now beginning to brown after a harshly warm summer.

Before long we made it to a tarn, the rain beginning to come down harder and steadier now. We stopped at a bench to rest and scout out a camping spot. Wow, that’s funny, I said, I have absolutely no recollection of this tarn at all. My husband remembered that we sat around the lake for a long time snacking on blueberries. It’s funny how our memory plays tricks on us.

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We set up camp near the lake and I thought how lovely it will be in the oncoming nice weather. We then headed back up the trail, our loads lightened for the increased grade. As we climbed I had the sinking feeling that we were going to be socked in at the lookout. But we climbed anyway and I looked forward to lunch and checking out the lookout itself. Sure enough on the last bit to the top, we watched the basin below us fill with white. But we made it to the top! Finally after all those years. But it didn’t feel as victorious as I hoped for. But then I thought we could return in the morning when the weather will surely improve.

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As we headed back down to the tent I started to get the feeling that the weather was not going to improve. My husband felt it too and suggested we move the tent to a more protected spot in the woods. I reluctantly agreed. It was better under the trees and we could sit outside and cook dinner and make hot chocolate. It would do. We stayed in the tent and read out loud to each other and eventually dozed off to sleep. The fog encased us while the rain dripped, dripped on the tent. It was cold and the dog was shaking so I zipped her up into my sleeping bag with me. Summer, sadly, was coming to an end.

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We didn’t end up trying again for nice views at the lookout, as the top of the mountain was still shrouded in fog in the morning. We instead packed our bags, skipped breakfast, and looked forward to a nice hot meal in town. As we descended on the trail I thought about how much has changed in the nine years since we first climbed those green slopes, how much I’ve changed in almost a whole decade. I realized that the mountains have made me a better person in those years. One that cares about the environment and saving our special places (including historical lookouts), one who is healthier and who has overcome fear and anxieties to accomplish goals and climb even bigger mountains. Green Mountain may not have spoiled me with it’s lovely views for my birthday, but it has given me so much more than that. Thank you, Green Mountain, I will return again and one of these times I will finally bask in your lookout’s glorious views!

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2006

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2015

Hikes Featured in this Post:
Green Mountain