Book Club

Reading the Clouds

September is the best month for clouds. Little puffs of white invade the cotton candy blue skies of the hot, dry Pacific Northwest summer. Fish bones of ice striate the upper reaches of the atmosphere. Mid-level altostratus greet us at sunrise and bid us good day at sunset as they stretch into the horizon gathering reds, pinks, and oranges. And, most wonderfully, the good ole plain stratus returns. Yes, I do mean that non-descript marine layer that blocks out the sun and covers the earth in what some people may describe as smothering and depressing and what I call a nice, cozy autumn blanket. It’s even better when it extends itself all the way to the ground and becomes my favorite of all, fog. This is when I’m no longer just admiring the clouds, but am literally in the cloud. How does everyone not think this is the coolest thing ever?

I think Maria Mudd Ruth, the author of A Sideways Look at Clouds, would agree with me. In my favorite part of the book, she describes swimming in a lake early one September morning. Fog covered the lake and she bravely swam into it, attaching a string to the shore so she could follow it back. Just thinking of this scene makes me feel still and peaceful. I don’t think we are only ones with a heart for the foggy. Maria goes on to point out that there are a myriad of descriptors of fog (she writes about them in a blog post, 51 Names for Fog) proving to me that if people say they don’t outright enjoy the fog and its many forms, they at least respect it and maybe, on some deep down level, they enjoy it just a tiny bit.

On still, cool nights I sense that our tired, end-of-summer earth is sighing. In the morning there is the beautiful blanket of fog it has exhaled.

This mutual love for fog and clouds is what found me and the Alpine Trails Book Club sitting fireside in a historic forest service building listening to Maria read an excerpt from her book. I watched a tree sway in the rain-spotted window as the wind howled and the warmth of the fire brought feeling back to my fingers. Maria graciously agreed to come out and hike with us on what would have ideally been a gorgeous day of cumulus cloud spotting and admiring Mount Baker and the surrounding peaks. Instead, our group circled up at the trailhead (we were the only ones there) bouncing and swishing in our rainbow colored rain jackets and rain pants to keep warm. We hugged each other and introduced ourselves to our first ever guest author. Maria later told me she was convinced that she and I would be the only ones who showed up that day. I explained to her how hardcore and amazing our group is. Their wonderful smiling faces didn’t even flinch at that nimbostratus.

So we marched straight into the clouds surrounding Bagley Lakes. Maria fed us interesting bits of cloud knowledge as we fed ourselves with the surrounding ripe blueberries (of course). I corralled everyone onto a little stone bridge and did a little happy dance as I took the best photo of our group. I remembered that there was a ranger station near the trail and wondered if we could get to it to seek some shelter from the cold wind and rain. We climbed up stone steps attached to a smooth ancient lava rock to the old building and sure enough, there was a little covered porch area overlooking the lakes. We shed our wet coats and got out our mugs and even some china. Laura brought some hot chai to go with the pumpkin-flavored cloud-shaped cookies I made to share. Maria topped off our little tea party with some donut holes she used to demonstrate the origin of the word “cloud” derived from the word “clod” meaning “rock” or “lump”.

As we chatted on the porch with Maria about how her cloud book came to be, we smelled smoke. It lured us inside the building where we were greeted with what I can only describe as book club magic. Benches surrounded a raging hot fire and the place was empty save a few lovely lady volunteers. They explained to us that one of them had just cleaned out the old fireplace and thought this was the perfect day to try it out with a fire. I asked if they minded if we stayed and hung out for awhile in this bit of serendipitous perfection. They agreed, happy for the distraction on what would normally be a long, lonely day. Maria appropriately read a passage from her book about how rain forms and we peppered her with questions as we thawed our fingers and toes. Then she anointed as all pluviophiles, lovers of clouds.

I could have stayed there in that cozy room forever, but alas, we mustered up the courage to return to the outside and continue on the loop trail. The rain had slowed but the stratus clung to the mountains even more than it had earlier. But once in a while it would clear ahead of us just enough to give us the tiniest bit of a view of the surrounding mountains. It once even cleared enough for us to spot fresh snow on nearby Mount Shuksan.

I need to look where I was going, but I also need to stop and look up to appreciate the miracles of the sky, to experience the joy of the clouds, and to learn something new about them every day.

Maria’s book makes the science of the clouds interesting and approachable. She has such enthusiasm that exudes from every word on the page, it is contagious! After reading this book I vowed to pay more attention to the clouds. I have a new-found appreciation for these ethereal things of everyday life. I’ve started taking more pictures of clouds and I picked up some of the books Maria mentions in her book like The Cloudspotter’s Guide and The Met Office Pocket Cloud Book to learn even more. I find that this brings me immense joy and is just another way to enjoy and appreciate nature.

 

Although there was a mile or so of atmosphere between us, I felt a special kinship with these clouds at the lake. There was so little difference between us. Here we were, fluid bodies floating. Here were the clouds, aloft, reflected. Here I was, afloat, reflecting. I had found my way in.

You can learn more about Maria on her website. She is working on a new book (that can’t come soon enough!) and she wrote a lovely blog post about our outing, Book Club in the Clouds.

 

 

A Sideways Look At Clouds by Maria Mudd Ruth

Book Ends

Book Club

Blueberries For Days

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

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

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

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

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

photo: Laura Norsen

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

photo: Laura Norsen

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


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


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

The Big Burn by Timothy Egan

 

Book Ends

Outdoor Life

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

Artist Point Snowshoe

I first laid eyes upon Mt Baker when I was 22. I was in college and visiting British Columbia for an internship trip and we stayed in the coastal town of White Rock. The tiny, beautiful, tourist town is nestled on a bluff overlooking Boundary Bay, just across the U.S.-Canadian border. I stayed in the nicest hotel room I ever had to myself and watched stunning sunsets from the pier. Here I caught glimpses of a far off volcano shrouded in the pink and gold of August alpenglow. This place was absolute heaven compared to Houston where I was living for the summer. I closed my eyes and savored every cool water breeze. We drove daily from White Rock to the Abbotsford airport on a sleepy two lane road called Avenue 0 that parallels the border.  We stopped to look at monuments identifying the uncrossable border between two countries. I looked south to Washington, to open fields and flowers and to the white-capped Mt Baker, unknowingly looking through a window into my future.

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Six years later on a cold, clear and dark February morning, my husband and I packed up the car with skis, snowshoes and the dog and commenced our first road trip to Mt Baker. The stars gave way to twilight and fog clung to the Nooksack valley as we made our way on the Mt Baker Highway. We climbed gradually along the river and finally up the steep switchbacks with hairpin turns protected from the steep drop offs by towering walls of snow on either side of us. On one of the hairpin turns I caught a glimpse of something in the rear view mirror and turned around. A huge and magnificent mountain filled the rear window. Holy crap, I said to my husband. I was introduced to Mt Shuksan.

The Mt Baker highway is a bit of a misnomer. The road goes to the Mt Baker Ski Area which is not on Baker at all but on Panarama Dome and is actually much closer to Mt Shuksan. The road was built in 1893 as a wagon road for what most roads were built for back in those days, gold mining. The road originally terminated at Maple Falls and then was later extended past Glacier and up to Heather Meadows then finally in the 1930’s extended up Austin Pass to Artist Point. There was talk of extending the road over the cascade crest to a gold mine on the east side, but a suitable pass was not found. In the winter the road is closed at the ski area making Artist Point a perfect snowshoeing destination.

I strapped on my snowshoes as my husband attached skins to his skis and the three of us made our way on the famously deep snow (this area holds the world record for recorded snowfall in one season- a whopping 95 feet in the winter of 1998-99). It wasn’t long before we crested the hill and beheld a feast for the eyes. The aptly named Artist Point is perched high on a ridge with 360 degree views of the North Cascades. To the left is Mt Shuksan and to the right is Mt Baker, seemingly within arm’s reach. Behind us, I take in the jagged guardians of the same invisible border I gazed across years ago, this time from the opposite side. As Nali and I ‘shoed down, my husband carved long smooth curves in the powder of a steep bowl high above the snow-covered Bagley Lakes. On that perfect bluebird day I decided that this was my favorite place in the Cascades and vowed to return as much as possible.

 

9780984238934Koma Kulshan: The Story of Mt Baker by John C. Miles

The story of Mt Baker is one of lore and mystery, conservation, exploitation and amazing races. The mountain was considered sacred by Native Americans and was first spotted by travelers from sailing ships in the Straight of Juan de Fuca. It lured a forty-two year old librarian named Edmund Coleman to climb it’s glaciers to the summit for the first time in 1868. By the turn of the century, the mountain felt the steps of hundreds of climbers from the Mountaineers and the Mazama climbing groups and more. The apex of this epic climbing era occurred in 1911 & 1912 as a publicity stunt: marathon races to the top of the mountain. A far more tame version of the marathon exists today with the Ski to Sea multi-sport relay race every Memorial Day weekend. This is just a small snapshot of the fascinating history of the Mt Baker area told in this book.

 

 

 

Hikes Featured in this Post:

Artist Point, North Cascades, WA