Book Club

On Trails

I was worried when I arrived at the trailhead. For one, I was running super late (nothing new there) and what was normally an insanely gorgeous view from the parking lot was completely obscured by fog. Our group was unfazed and cheery as always. As we started walking, our view was narrowed to the trail and the trees just around us. We stirred up some grouse and they exchanged deep staccato bellows that made someone ask what the heck that was. We stopped to inspect spider webs. What was regularly invisible was now illuminated in silver mist. Someone suggested that we call ourselves the Cloud Hikers and I had flashbacks to our hike in the clouds last year.

We were on our July book club outing to one of my very favorite places, Cascade Pass in the North Cascades. Our book of the month was On Trails, a philosophical journey through the history of trails all over the world, from the very tiny trail of one of life’s first travelers 565 million years ago, to a modern extension of the Appalachian Trail that spans the world and everything in between. The author pays special attention to Native American trails and searches for the remains of an old Cherokee trail. The problem in finding old Native American trails, he says, is that they are so efficient and effective that they have evolved into roads. Cascade Pass is one such trail heavily traveled by indigenous people for at least 10,000 years. It was commonly traveled from the east side up the Stehekin River valley, the river name itself meaning “the way through.”

For many indigenous people, trails were not just a means of travel; they were the veins and arteries of culture.

Robert Moor, On Trails

In the early 1920’s, the state of Washington contracted the Cascade Wagon Road from Marblemount over Cascade Pass to Twisp. During the road’s construction, a group called the Cascade Pass Pilgrims (from both the east and west sides), gathered at the pass for camping and speeches to promote the building of the wagon road. But after the stock market crash of 1929, funds for the road were rescinded and construction was halted. In the 1930’s, the Civilian Conservation Corp (CCC) maintained the road and made improvements before the Forest Service and Washington Highway Department officially abandoned it in 1940.

The idea of building a road over the pass was revisited many times, but never materialized. Instead, the current trail was built to the pass and over to the east side to meet up with an existing mining road from Stehekin to Horseshoe Basin. Soon after the trail construction, in 1968, the North Cascades National Park was formed and Cascade Pass was preserved. Since the 1980’s, significant archeological sites have been found at the pass including a particularly spectacular unearthing of a 9600 year old cooking hearth. Scientists now think that contrary to popular belief, people my have lived here and spent more time here than just passing through.

It is impossible to fully appreciate the value of a trail until you have been forced to walk through the wilderness without one.

Robert Moor, On Trails

Back on the trail, Brenda wanted to show us something she noticed on a previous hike on this trail. The book mentions how people can’t tolerate being on a trail where they can hear water, but can’t see it. Brenda stopped us and we could hear the water. Sure enough, there was a little footpath up a large boulder with a view of a waterfall. We all took turns to climb up and spy the cascade. While we took our water break, the fog began to disperse giving us peek-a-boo views of the dramatic and glaciated mountains across the valley from us.

We rose with the fog and found ourselves rising above the treeline as the clouds rose above the mountains. Pink heather and sitka valerian blanketed the meadows. We stopped to identify other flowers- monkey flower, columbine, spirea. Up ahead, Brenda and Kirstin were stopped and looking at something with binoculars. As the rest of us approached, they pointed out a marmot doing its marmot thing above us on a rock. We watched for a while and saw little baby marmot heads popping up over the heather. Baby marmots! We gushed over them and pointed them out to others walking by.

While we continued our climb, I noticed a distinct chill to the air. It felt more like an autumn day than a July one. We spotted pika in the rocks as we approached a lingering patch of snow on the steep, narrow, trail. I was worried that some of the group may not be comfortable crossing on the snow, but we all supported and helped each other across. I was so proud of the group! Not much farther, though, and we had a scare of the furry kind.

It was marmots! Yes, more marmots. But these marmots were right on the trail and had zero interest in yielding to us. They were busy gnawing on something in the trail dirt and couldn’t be bothered to budge. As we got closer to them, instead of scurrying away like normal marmots, they ran toward us! Kim walked with her hiking poles out in self defense as we finally passed them. This was clearly their territory and they were clearly not afraid of us in the least.

The attacking marmots were our last hurdle to the pass. There we shed our packs and got out our snacks. Brenda shared her favorite pastry she picked up on the way to the trailhead, and we passed around a fancy chocolate bar to share. We talked about the book and I slipped on my dad’s fuzzy sweater for warmth and comfort. We chatted with some climbers who just came down from Mix-up Peak. They pointed up to it. “That one,” they said, “next to Magic Mountain.” From where we were, one could be convinced that not many people have been here, or to the tops of the mountains around our heads. It feels so remote and wild here, and yet the dirt that we stood on was packed down by thousands, maybe tens of thousands of feet before us?

The trail had taught me that good designs – like old-age tools and classic folk tales – are trail-wise. They fulfill a common need by balancing efficiency, flexibility, and durability. They streamline. They self-reinforce. They bend but do not break. So much of our built environment, by comparison, seemed terribly, perilously inelegant.

Robert Moor, On Trails

A trail is a beautiful thing. Trails allow us to reach places that would not seem possible otherwise. The mind can focus on other things while the body simply follows, not having to choose a direction or make a decision, the trail does it for us and keeps us safe.

Ironically, I feel closer to humanity in this wild place than I do in the highly populated city. Not just closer to my book club pals and the other hikers on the trail that day, but to our ancestors and to the Okanagan Nation who claim this area as their traditional territory. The ones who made the trail a little better with each foot step.

photo courtesy of Mala Giri

I now see the earth as the collaborative artwork of trillions of sculptors, large and small. Sheep, humans, elephants, ants: each of us alters the world in our passage. When we build hives or nests, mud huts or concrete towers, we re-sculpt the contours of the planet. When we eat, we convert living matter into waste. And when we walk, we create trails. The question we must ask ourselves in not whether we should shape the earth, but how.

Robert Moor, On Trails
photo courtesy Mala Giri
On Trails by Robert Moor

Book Ends

Book Club Archive

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.

 

 

 

Book Club

A Weekend in Paradise

The waterfall took my breath away. I was perched on a steep slope as close as I could get to Comet Falls. The air was full of spray, my face instantly soaked, and it was hard to breath. I leaned in, yelled AHHHH and then signaled for the others to come see. They leaned in too and I pointed and yelled, RAINBOW! When we stood in just the right spot a brilliant rainbow appeared at the bottom of the waterfall. We put our arms around each other’s shoulders and closed the circle.

This month our book club group took a weekend trip to Paradise, quite literally. We drove up the long road from Ashford to Paradise Inn in Mount Rainier National Park, following in the footsteps (or rather, snowshoe steps) of Floyd Schmoe and his wife Ruth. Floyd and Ruth spent a winter on their own in the inn back in the 1920’s. Floyd then became a guide and naturalist and the couple spent many summers in Paradise and even took their 3-year-old son around the Wonderland trail on horseback. Floyd wrote a memoir about his time at Paradise, our book of the month, A Year in Paradise.

No place on earth except in a few similar alpine settings can you find such gorgeous wild flower gardens as along the streams of Paradise Valley: white water singing songs, gray water ouzels building nests, and massed flowers nodding approval – a combination of sounds, sights, and odors that lacks only an Adam and an Eve to make of it a little Garden of Eden within the larger Paradise.

 

Our adventure weekend started at Comet Falls and Van Trump Park. We spotted a few avalanche lilies about halfway up the trail and swooned. We spent several minutes snapping photos and getting the best angles, only to find out later that the avalanche lilies were in full bloom all along the trail. I’ve never seen so many of the delicate white flowers on a single trail. They blanketed the forest floor, giving the trail a magical feel.

We climbed up and up in the heat of the day until we topped out and finally got a glimpse of Mt Rainier herself. We could see icicles hanging of the glaciers that must have been massive. As we ate lunch we heard the crash of avalanches and rocks in the distance. We reluctantly tore ourselves away from the view and headed back down to set up our campsite at Cougar Rock and meet up with some others in our group.

After settling in and making introductions over delicious snacks, we geared up for a sunset hike to Pinnacle Saddle. Floyd mentions climbing the peak in the book and how from its vantage point on the Tatoosh Range, you can see a perfect view of Paradise Valley. We climbed up, wondering how far we would get before hitting snow. The views of Mt Rainier are non-stop from the beginning and only get better with each foot of elevation. We crossed just a few spots of snow and were thrilled to make it all the way to Pinnacle Saddle.

 

In the evening when the sunset glow climbed quickly up the ice dome of the mountain and was reflected across Paradise Valley, the pearly gates stood wide-open and all our streets were really paved with gold.

 

We cheered each other on as we reached the flat saddle in the golden glow of sunset. In front of us were sweeping views of Mt Adams, Mt St Helens, and even Mt Hood. We snapped photos and turned around to see The Mountain herself, in full glow. The timing was perfect and we relished every second, even though we were getting swarmed by mosquitoes. When we’d had enough we tiptoed back down the scree, quickly realizing just how much we had climbed. Above us, Pinnacle Peak blazed a fiery red. By the time we reached the trailhead, it was dark.

 

 

We returned to the campsite, excited by the sunset hike. We fueled up on Laura’s amazing homemade chocolate chip cookies and chatted about our day. I was exhausted from the heat and all the hiking we did that day, but also energized. I leaned back and counted the stars. When I couldn’t keep my eyes open anymore I snuggled up in the tent, sleeping for the first time in a long time, without the rain fly.

 

 

The first patch of bare ground had appeared on the south slope of Alta Vista, and the first creamy-white avalanche lilies were nodding a welcome to us and the warm spring sunshine.

 

The next morning we lazily prepared our breakfasts and slowly sipped tea. Most of us weren’t finished with the book so we took advantage of the morning to sit and read while we ate. Some people might think it’s rude to sit at the table with others and read a book, but here, it was perfectly acceptable.

After breakfast we headed back up to Paradise for the last of our hikes. The Skyline Trail was lined with avalanche lilies, pasque flowers, and heather. Marmots popped up and bid us good day, even sometimes showing off by posing majestically on rocks. We found a perfect spot for lunch with a view of Mt Rainier, of course, and the valley below. It was the perfect spot to chat about the book. I couldn’t help but wonder what Floyd would think of a group of women reading his book and hiking in his footsteps almost 100 years later. From his book he seems like a very forward thinking man for his time and I like to think that he would have got a kick out of it. Later we learned that Floyd lived until 2001 when he died at the ripe old age of 105(!). I like to think that his time on the mountain had something to do with that.

Before leaving Paradise, we had to go visit Paradise Inn, where Floyd and Ruth spent the winter of 1919. The historic inn is much as it was back in their day, and as we approached, we heard piano music coming from inside. It was easy to close your eyes and imagine Ruth playing it. One of our sweet group members treated us to cold water and ice cream. It was the perfect ending to our weekend in Paradise.

 

… we were both acutely aware of the healing calm of the wilderness around us, of the forests below and the skies above, and of the great silent mountain which stood over us.

 

A Year in Paradise by Floyd Schmoe

Book Ends

 

             

Trailblazers

Mary Colter

If you’ve been to the south rim of Grand Canyon National Park, you have probably heard of, or at least recognize, the name Mary Colter. Born in 1869, she was one of very few female architects, not just in the company she worked for, but in the entire country. She is known for her love of Native American art and she made it her mission to incorporate it and the local culture into all of her designs.

When Mary was 11 years old her family settled in St Paul, Minnesota. At the time, this part of the country was considered the Northwest. Here she was introduced to the Sioux people. She acquired some Sioux art from a friend which spurred her lifelong interest in Native American culture and art. When a smallpox epidemic tore through the town, Mary’s mother told her to burn anything from the Native Americans fearing that they would contract the disease. Mary didn’t give up her Sioux drawings and hid them instead. She kept those drawings for her whole life after that. She later attended art school in San Francisco and then moved back to St Paul and became an art teacher.

The Lookout Studio, blending into the canyon

She began her career at the Fred Harvey Company when she did a summer job for them decorating the Indian Building at the Alvarado Hotel in Albuquerque. She fell in love with the southwest and the Native American art she discovered there. She later got hired on at the company and transitioned from interior designer into lead architect over her impressive 38 years there. The Fred Harvey Company was famous for building fine restaurants and hotels along the railroads of the West. Harvey started his grand endeavor after finding disappointing food and lodging along the young continental railroads. So he teamed up with the Santa Fe Railroad to bring in fresh food and to build luxurious hotels at stops along the route.

Mary decorated and arranged many shops at the hotels that sold Native American goods and art. She showcased the art and rugs by laying them out like they would be in a home. She wanted to make the shops feel cozy and inviting, a place where you could relax and mingle with the artists and ask them questions. She also encouraged guests to pick up and touch the artwork which was revolutionary at the time and made her quite popular.

Desert View Tower interior with Hopi Snake Legend painting

The Hopi House in Grand Canyon National Park was her first commissioned architectural work built in 1905. She designed it to look like a pueblo built by the Hopi people. She painstakingly oversaw every detail to make sure that the building sufficiently represented the Hopi culture. She continued her quest for coziness by including two fireplaces on the main floor. The Native American artists were housed in the second level of the building while they made their art. You can still find gorgeous displays of artwork there today.

Her other works at Grand Canyon include the Lookout Studio and Hermit’s Rest, both designed to blend into the fantastic scenery and built of stone straight from the canyon. The Lookout Studio was built to compete with the nearby Kolb photography studio run by the famous Kolb brothers. Hermit’s Rest was built several miles down the rim from the Village as a place of rest after a long day’s journey. It was named for a reclusive mountain man who lived in the area and helped to build the structure.

Mary meticulously planned the placement of each stone, not to look perfect, but rather to give it a haphazard, organic look. If it looked too planned or perfect, she would have the workers remove the section and start again. Both Lookout Studio and Hermit’s Rest showcase Mary’s strong belief in blending her work into the beauty of a place rather than compete with it. Mary also designed cabins at Phantom Ranch down in the cabin on the Bright Angel Trail, as well as the charming cabins at Bright Angel Lodge.

Mary’s masterpiece at the Grand Canyon, though, was her last commissioned work there, the Desert View Tower. Built in 1932, the tower was inspired by similar, although much smaller, towers she saw at ancient pueblos at Mesa Verde. This was not a direct replica like the Hopi House, but rather a celebration of many southwest Native American cultures. Mary included little touches like ornamental rocks modeled after Choco Canyon and a rock stacking style from Wupatki. The interior opens up into a kiva-like round room with, of course, a cozy fireplace. The interior of the tower portion is covered in replicas of now destroyed petroglyphs and large colorful paintings of Hopi legend and symbolism. Mary spent six months researching and planning the artwork and even created a handwritten guide to the paintings. The tower beautifully represents Mary’s fascination and respect for the Native American cultures and displays her impressive attention to detail while maintaining an effortless air about it.

 

Mary Colter: Architect of the Southwest by Arnold Berke

Between her time working at the Grand Canyon, Mary designed some gorgeous mission style hotels in New Mexico and Arizona that are depicted in this book along with many wonderful photos of Mary herself, her other masterful designs, and her inspirations. The book captures the spirit of the western romanticism that took over the country in the heyday of continental train tourism in the early 20th century. I highly recommend this for anyone who wants to learn more about this time or is intrigued by this wonderful trailblazer.

Road Trip

Arizona Part 2: Grand Canyon

Day 3: Grand Canyon National Park

The next morning was like Christmas. We woke up to the soft rays of the rising sun through the juniper and prickly pear. We bundled up, made breakfast (I rushed it as much as possible), and then headed over to Desert Tower, not far from our campsite. The sky was a dark, piercing blue, the kind you get on a crisp fall day, and just a few clouds lingered from the interesting weather from the past day. The strange-looking stone tower was not open yet and we had the place to ourselves. We took in the sweeping views, down into the heart of the canyon as the Colorado shined like a silver snake.

The scale of the canyon is of course difficult to describe. It is a thing that you have to see to believe. One could sit and look for days into the canyon and see a thousand new things. I know people hike rim to rim, but from here it seemed an impossible task. The north rim must be at least 10 miles away as the crow flies, if not more. I am used to thinking that the higher up you go into the mountains, the more remote it is. Here, though, it is the opposite. It felt kind of strange and voyeuristic to look down into the remote canyon, knowing that people were down there with little in the way of amenities tackling their journeys while we were watching cozy and comfy from above.

After we tore ourselves away from the gorgeous views, we drove to the Grand Canyon Visitor Center to start our hike. The vibe here was much different than what we got at Desert Tower. We pulled into a massive parking lot that was already almost full and we committed the red antelope on the parking lot sign to memory like we were in an amusement park. We followed the people to the visitor center and found the Rim Trail.

The Rim Trail is nice in that it is mostly accessible for anyone, is easy to follow, and you can walk as long as you’d like and then hop on a shuttle bus to get back to the car. I appreciated the setup with the shuttle buses and how it keeps cars off the roads and in turn keeps pollution and noise down. There were lots of people on the trail in the beginning but then the crowds thinned as we kept on. Our first stop was the geology museum at Yavapai Point in a little stone building perched on the rim. It wasn’t all that impressive to be honest, but as we left the museum and continued on the trail, we entered into the “Trail of Time” where time was depicted as golden markers on the trail.

We passed through a few hundred years quite quickly and kept into the thousands. After a while we passed by examples of the type of rock that was formed during that time period. Once we got into the millions of years ago, it started to get good. I enjoyed reading off the familiar names of the rock formations like Kaibab, Coconino, Supai, Bright Angel, Temple Butte. Then we got into the really fun ones, like folded Vishnu basement rock and Jupiter granite. These rocks were billions of years old! It was kind of mind-blowing.

Next we stopped to check out the Hopi House store. It was architect Mary Colter’s first work in the Grand Canyon and she modeled it after a pueblo. Native Americans were welcome to come and sell their goods here, and today it still serves as the best place along the south rim to souvenir shop. I picked up some things there including the gorgeous children’s book, The Girl Who Loved Wild Horses, and another one called Everybody Needs a Rock since Evie was in a serious rock collecting phase (we actually found little rocks in her baby pockets when we got home which almost made my heart explode with love).

We watched some hikers complete the long uphill climb of the Bright Angel Trail and then grabbed some lunch at the famous Bright Angel Lodge. Then we kept on walking. The views never got old and there was so much history to see. We checked out the Kolb Studio where the famous Kolb brothers showed the first motion picture from the inside of the canyon, filmed on their own journey down the Colorado. There was also its sleek rival, Lookout Studio. Unfortunately, both studios are now just souvenir shops without much reference to what they once were. We walked some more until we got tired and hopped on the shuttle to the end of the road at Hermit’s Rest.

There we basked in the sun and ordered ice cream at the little walk up store window. I waited in line while my husband and Evie went off to find a place to sit in the shade. Someone in front of me was asking where everyone was from. They answered: California, Australia, France, Germany. We Americans were in the minority and that felt kind of nice. I found my husband and Evie under a tree and Evie was making a little pile of rocks as became her favorite thing to do on this trip. We found respite from our day’s journey, as intended, and when we’d had enough, we hopped back on the shuttle to the village. On the way back we saw tons of elk along the road, just hanging out.

At the village we walked back the few miles to the parking lot. All of the sudden we noticed the clouds. Virga hung in the air in the canyon and it felt like you could reach out and touch it. Sunlight filtered through the openings in the clouds and highlighted ridges in the canyon, giving it even more dimension. We watched the clouds move around us and then we could see the hail coming down up ahead of us. It was only a matter of time until it hit us and turned to rain. It seemed that we missed the worst of it, though, as we watched people drenched from head to toe walking past us.

Later that night after dinner we headed back to the Desert Tower to watch the sunset. There was a crowd of people sitting along the edge. A few of the dramatic rain clouds stuck around for a show and we admired one as we found a nice rock to sit on among the crowd. It was quiet and we were all there for the same reason. Together we watched the blaze of yellow disappear behind the north rim and we experienced a famous Grand Canyon sunset. I have to say, it was quite grand.

Day 4: Grand Canyon to Sedona

The next morning we got a later start and headed back to Desert Tower. This time it was open so we went in to check it out. I didn’t know anything about the tower so when we walked up the stairs to the tower part, my jaw dropped. The inside of the tower was, from bottom to top, covered in Native American art. It was so beautiful and I wondered where it all came from. Turns out is was another of Mary Colter’s creations. I made a mental note to find out more about this woman (more about her later). I was so glad that we took the time to go back and see the inside of it. It is now one of my very favorite places.

Before we headed back out of the National Park, we stopped at the Tusayan ruins. The pueblo-like structures date back to 1185 AD and include the remains of a small Kiva. This is a room where the ancient people would gather for ceremonies, rituals, and meetings. Nearby, there was an open field where it is believed that people grew crops and collected water. The surrounding forest was full of useful plants. The information signs called it a “supermarket.” Pinon pines and Utah Juniper supplied wood for construction, heating, and cooking. The pine needles were used to make baskets and brewed into tea. The tree bark was used to make sandals and insulation, and pinon nuts and juniper berries were collected and eaten. The tough leaves of the yucca were braided into rope or made into shoes.

Next we headed back south toward Flagstaff and decided to stop and check out the Wupatki ruins in the Sunset Crater Volcano National Monument. This part of the park was much different than near the volcano. It was an open desert, prairie-like with little to no trees, just a few shrubs here and there. As we drove along the winding loop road we spotted some pronghorns watching us from a small hill. The loop road has several stops with short trails leading to ruins. These ruins also date back to the 1100’s and are pueblo-style.

The first ruin was Lomaki, meaning “beautiful house.” Evie fell asleep on the drive so my husband and I took turns on the short trail to let her nap in the car. The pueblo was situated above a small box canyon with views of the snow-capped San Fransisco peaks. These are the remains of a large stratovolcano and include Arizona’s highest peak, Humphreys Peak. It felt lonely there, out in the middle of nowhere, and I really really wanted to spot coyote or some more pronghorns, but no luck.

We continued on to the next ruins, Nalakihu and Citadel pueblos. Evie woke up so we all ate some peanut butter and jelly sandwiches in the blazing sun before tackling this one. Then she walked on her own all the way up to the top of the Citadel! I was so proud of her, even if we did have to stop and look at at least 500 rocks on the way. I’m totally ok with that.

Our last stop on the loop road was Wupatki, the largest and most impressive ruin. The National Parks paper says that life at Wupatki, “revolved around growing corn, praying for rain, and finding ways for people with diverse backgrounds to live together as a community.” The name Wupatki, means “tall house” in the Hopi language. It is several stories tall and contains over 100 rooms. This was a major trade center where traders would bring all kinds of exotic goods like scarlet macaws brought from tropical places and of course pottery, jewelry, and turquoise. Life here must have been very difficult, given there is little rain and vegetation.

In the visitor center you can borrow guide books that give information at certain locations along the trail. One of the most surprising things I read in the guide was that when this area became a National Monument, the rangers actually lived inside the ruins. They had kitchens and everything and often brought their wives to come live with them. Before that, it was common for sheepherders and cattlemen to live there too. I can’t imagine this happening now as it is so protected.

Back on road we drove for a bit and stopped at Walnut Canyon. It was getting quite hot outside now and the short trail from the visitor’s center dropped down 200 feet into the canyon and onto an “island.” The surrounding canyon was full of cliff dwellings. We pointed them out to each other and then pondered how on earth anyone could get to them. They were created roughly 800 years ago by the Sinagua people. They were most likely attracted to this canyon because of its abundance of plants and wildlife. It seems desolate now, but it is cool to think that long ago this canyon was full of people and you could just climb over to visit your neighbor’s dwelling.

It was getting late in the afternoon and it was also getting seriously hot. We drove to our next destination, Sedona, and found a campsite in Oak Creek Canyon. We set up camp and drove into town to find some food and refuge from the sun. We found some delicious Mexican food with lovely views of the surrounding red rocks. Then we came back to the campsite for our evening ritual of prickly pear candy and prickly pear tea before bed. There weren’t many rocks at this campsite, so I showed Evie that she could also collect pine cones. She went straight to work. When she was done we got her ready for bed and read her favorite Pancakes, Pancakes book and an adorable Native American board book about weather that I picked up at Brightside Books in Flagstaff. We were getting into a new routine now. I preferred this one and I knew it would be tough to go back to our old one.

Book Club

The Future of National Parks

In July we took to the high country and hiked to Fremont Lookout for our Alpine Trails Book Club meet up. Laura chose to hike in a National Park to go along with the theme of the month’s book selection, Lassoing the Sun: A Year in America’s National Parks. We are lucky here in Seattle to be so close to one of the oldest and most impressive National Parks, Mount Rainier.

The trail to the lookout begins at the popular Sunrise area of Mount Rainier National Park at 6400 feet, the highest part of the park that can be reached by road. We met next to the old lodge which opened in 1931. The lodge housed amenities such as showers, laundry, groceries, and cafeteria style dining for the over 200 rentable cabins that sprouted in the area. The cabins did not weather well, though, and were removed in 1944. The beautiful lodge structure remains, however, still offering cafeteria style dining and a gift shop.

We made our way through the crowds to the lookout trail. Emmons Glacier dominates the skyline as we scan the meadows for wildflowers. There was lupine and paintbrush and phlox, all familiar with a just a little twist that made it unique to the Park. It’s not a hike in Mount Rainier unless you spot some happy marmots along the trail. We saw several. I pointed them out to Evie and she giggled and babbled her approval.

We talked about the crowds and how it seems like we are seeing more and more people on the trails lately. Sunrise is a place that people come to from around the world. It is not unusual to hear hikers speaking several different languages. We pass groups of teens, families, trail runners, and couples, all seemingly content and happy to be in this beautiful place. All of us there for the same reasons and no one deserves to be there more than anyone else. But I can’t help wondering, are we loving Mount Rainier and other National Parks to death?

Mark Woods grapples with this and other issues that affect our beloved National Parks in Lassoing the Sun. He won a journalism fellowship that allowed him to spend a year exploring whatever he wanted. He chose the National Parks. Starting with a New Years Day sunrise on Cadillac Mountain in Acadia National Park and ending with a sunset in Haleakala, he traveled to a different National Park each month. And not just the popular ones. He wasn’t out to just celebrate the last 100 years of the parks, but rather to examine threats to the National Parks in the next 100 years.

The most obvious threat to the parks is climate change. The effects are already evident as glaciers in Glacier National Park are melting, habitats are shrinking, and species disappearing. But what should we do about it? Should we preserve the parks and fight to keep them the way they are, or do we let nature take its course and allow species to adapt on their own even if it means we lose some of them?

Photo: Laura Norsen

Then there is the issue of the parks being overcrowded and underfunded. The parks had over 300 million visitors in 2015 which is a staggering number. While it is great that so many people are loving on the parks, there is often not enough staff to support them and budget cuts make it difficult to fix and maintain roads and trails. The other issue with the crowds is that they are mostly white with an average age of 41 according to the National Park Service. This does not reflect the surrounding communities and certainly not the future generation.

In the book, Mark talks his wife and teenage daughter into going on road trips with him to the National Parks. It was what his parents did while he was growing up and he wants to carry on the tradition and share his favorite places. He worries about what the state of the parks will be in his daughter’s lifetime. With a little daughter of my own, I worry about it too. So what should we do about it?

Ultimately, Mark is hopeful. He says,

…being an advocate for the parks doesn’t mean you have to do something extreme. You don’t have to chain yourself to a redwood. You don’t have to be able to donate a bunch of money. If you want to help the parks, the most important thing you can do is simply go to them – and take someone with you.

 

Lassoing the Sun by Mark Woods

 

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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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Road Trip

Paradise, Mount Rainier

Here in Seattle we are lucky (or perhaps you could say unlucky) to have a spectacular volcano watching down on us. Mount Rainier is an active stratovolcano about 60 miles from the city and at 14,400 feet holds plenty of snow to explore all year round. But in the winter time the mountain is especially magical.

The road to Paradise, on the southern side of the mountain, is plowed in the winter for your snow-loving pleasure. The wide open meadows beyond the Paradise Inn beg for sledding, skiing, and snowshoeing. If you are lucky you will get spectacular up-close views of the mountain. The weather up here is famously temperamental. Even on a seemingly blue bird day, clouds can form spoiling your mountain views and even cause whiteouts making it essential to always be prepared in this area. But the extra preparation is worth the hassle to spend a day in paradise.

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My favorite destination from Paradise is Panorama Point. The way weaves through occasional snow covered trees to Glacier Vista, from here climb steeply along the Nisqually Glacier to fantastic views of Rainier and the surrounding mountains. This is the perfect spot to take a rest and fuel up for the return.

My favorite account of life on Mount Rainier is from Floyd Schmoe’s book A Year in Paradise. The book starts out with Floyd describing his honeymoon. He was encouraging his new wife, Ruth, to continue up the mountain on snowshoes. “Come on dear, it’s just over the next ridge,” he told her, her first time ever on snowshoes. They were not just taking a leisurely jaunt up to Panorama Point, they were breaking trail all the way from Longmire at the base of the mountain to Paradise Inn at 5400 feet!

The year was 1920, long before they plowed the road to Paradise, and Schmoe was assigned to man the inn over the winter. His boss told him, “I predict that if you two kids survive this winter alone in Paradise you will live happily together for the rest of your lives and go to heaven when you die.” Then he told him that the inn was covered in 30 feet of snow, and each of its rooms were in complete darkness!

The young couple made the best of their time at the inn. They explored the area on snowshoes in the morning looking for prints in the fresh snow and putting together the stories of the winter wildlife. They dug tunnels in the snow to the windows of the living room to bring some light in. Ruth practiced the piano and honed her high-altitude cooking skills by trial and error. Floyd read books and reported the weather daily to the Weather Bureau in Seattle. Soon they determined that Ruth was pregnant and Floyd built a cradle from the local Alaska yellow cedar as Ruth made baby clothing. Finally they began to notice the ptarmigan and rabbits slowly transforming their coats from brilliant white to brown and black. After their long first winter together in Paradise, it was finally spring.

 

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A Year in Paradise by Floyd Schmoe
That winter in Paradise began Schmoe’s long and wide ranging career at Mount Rainier National Park. He was a caretaker and later a mountain guide until he enrolled at the University of Washington and earned a degree in forestry. He then became the first Park Naturalist employed by MRNP. His memoir recounts his memories and experiences in a sort of almanac divided into seasons of the year. His beautiful stories and observations are a must read for anyone who has fallen under the spell of “the mountain.”

 

 

 

 

 

Hikes featured in this Post:
Panorama Point Snowshoe

Trailblazers

Claire Marie Hodges

In 1918, Claire Marie Hodges applied to be a ranger at Yosemite National Park. It was near the end of World War I and Claire saw that the park was struggling to find men to work as rangers. The story goes that she said to the park superintendent, “I know you will he laugh at me, but I want to be a ranger.” The superintendent replied that he beat her to it and that he was meaning to hire a woman to patrol. It was then that Claire became the first ever female National Park ranger at the age of 18.

Claire was born in Santa Cruz in 1890 and fell in love with the Yosemite valley when she was a young girl. She spent four days there with her family when she was 14 and later returned to be a school teacher in the valley. Visitors where surprised to see a woman ranger on the trail, dressed in a park service uniform complete with a Stetson hat and a split skirt. But she was just as capable as the men and completed the same tasks as them. Her time as a ranger did not last long but she held the distinction as the only female National Park ranger for a whopping 30 years. She was certainly ahead of her time and we still aren’t there yet. Only about a third of the current rangers are women and most are confined to the desk jobs. Claire is an inspiration to anyone of any gender to follow their passions and to go out and get that job you want even if no one like you has done it before.

More info about Claire Marie Hodges:
“Yosemite Clare” Hodges: The First Female Park Ranger in Campfire Chronicles
Claire Marie Hodges, First Female National Park Ranger in Adventure Journal