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Hiking History: Lake Crescent

October 11, 2018November 28, 2018
by Ashley Gossens

Legend has it Lake Crescent is haunted. In 1940, some fisherman found a mass floating in the water that ended up being a body. It was perfectly intact, preserved by the near freezing temps of this deep glacially carved lake. The woman’s dead flesh was described eerily as “Ivory Soap” caused by a chemical reaction between the minerals in the lake and the fats in her body.

The woman was identified as Hallie Latham Illingworth, a Kentucky native and waitress at the Lake Crescent Tavern. Three years earlier she had disappeared just before Christmas. She was married to a local man who was well known for his womanizing and who had regularly beat her. It is said that she showed up to work with black eyes and bruises on her neck and arms. Her husband was eventually arrested for her murder, which occurred after a particular fight got too violent and he ended up strangling her to death. Her body was weighed down by weights and thrown into the depths of the lake. She became known as The Lady of the Lake and is still said to haunt the lake that entombed her after her horrific death.

The reason this lake perfectly preserved Hallie’s body and has such frigid temperatures is because of its depth. It is the second deepest lake in Washington after Lake Chelan with a max measured depth of 624 feet, although some unofficial measurements boast depths of over 1000 feet. According to the local native people’s history, Mount Storm King, the mountain that looms over Lake Crescent, was formed because of a battle between two tribes, the Quileute and the Klallam. The Mountain Storm King became angry at the fighting and threw a big boulder at the men. The boulder blocked the river and formed Lake Crescent, killing all of the warriors. Geological history backs up this native story. There is evidence of a landslide occurring that would have been big enough to raise the level of an older smaller lake, into the lake it is today.

The Spruce Railroad Trail, ambling along the northern shore of the lake, is a great place to get to know this lake. The trail has its own history. It was built in 1918 to move highly sought after spruce trees to be used in airplane construction for World War I bi-planes. The war ended before the trees could be used for their intended purpose, but the line remained open for logging until it was abandoned in 1951.

The trail is flat with peek-a-boo views of the sapphire colored water of the lake. The highlights of the trail include a quaint wooden bridge over a crystal clear pool known as the punchbowl, a popular swimming and diving spot. There are also some remnants of former railroad tunnels and even one that has been restored that you can walk through. It is just long and curved enough to get very dark inside for a brief time. I walked through it alone without a headlamp and definitely felt out of my comfort zone in the pitch dark for a minute or two. But I held onto a handrail, scooted a little quicker, and survived to claim a small victory.

Another area to explore is the Storm King ranger station on the western side of the lake. The ranger station made a home of an old settler’s cabin that has been restored over the years. From here there is lake access and a dock, where on a crisp autumn morning, I sat alone for a long while watching fog form and cling to Mount Storm King and Pyramid Peak and disappear. Interestingly, Pyramid Peak once hosted a lookout built in 1942 that was used as a spotter station to spy any possible approaching Japanese aircraft during World War II.

There are a few trails that start from the rangers station, including one that heads south across the highway to Mount Storm King and Marymere Falls. The trail crosses Barnes Creek and Falls Creek in deep woods that makes you feel miles from the highway. I had a particularly magical moment watching a young deer on this section of trail that will stick with me for a long time.

After a short distance, the 90 foot high Marymere Falls ribbons down through rock and forest and flows down to a placid creek, punctuated by yellow and orange leaves in the fall. The lovely name was bestowed to the falls by Charles Barnes, a homesteader and member of the Press Expedition through the Olympic Mountains, in honor of his sister Mary Alice Barnes.

Outdoor Life

Hidden Lake Lookout

August 20, 2018January 14, 2019
by Ashley Gossens

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

Dog Mountain

May 2, 2017July 30, 2018
by Ashley Gossens

One of my favorite trails to visit in the spring is Dog Mountain in the Columbia River Gorge. Situated on the north side of the river, its flanks are fully exposed to the south and all the sunshine. In the spring, the hillsides explode with the most brilliant yellows of arrowleaf balsomroot.

This was the first summit I hiked on my own many years ago. The trail climbs, steeply at times, 2800 feet above the river below. But I hardly noticed the elevation as I was so distracted by the flowers. I knew that the trail was famous for its balsomroot blooms, but I didn’t know that it was also home to seemingly hundreds of other flower species. I was just starting to learn my PNW flowers so I stopped to take photos of all of them to identify later. Most were new to me at the time.

Near the summit is an old lookout site. The lookout was built in the 1930’s to watch for fires across the river. As airplanes took to the skies in search of fires, lookouts all over the west became obsolete, including this one, which was removed in 1967.

It is said that the mountain got its name from a writer who described the steep and rough mountain as “that dogged mountain” or “that doggone mountain” and recommended sturdy boots for the ascent. There is also a legend that says some men got stranded on the mountain and had to resort to eating their dogs. I’m hoping this theory is not true.

No matter the hardships endured to get to the top of this mountain, its hard not to have a smile on your face and hum “The Sound of Music” along with the infinite number of bees feasting away.

But, with all the springtime beauty comes crowds. This trail, with its close proximity to Portland and Vancouver, is one of the most heavily trafficked in the Gorge. Parking is nearly impossible, so be sure to arrive very early or go on a weekday.

Be prepared to share the trail with others and make the best of it. Some of my favorite hikes are crowded ones where I get to see the happy faces of other hikers enjoying the same beautiful space.

Hikes Featured in this Post:
Dog Mountain

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Road Trip

Painted Hills

April 20, 2017August 7, 2018
by Ashley Gossens

Ten years ago, when I moved to Seattle and had my first real job, I bought the prettiest calendar I could find with pictures of beautiful landscapes. Every month I was excited to see what the next one would be. On one of those months, I flipped up to a picture of the Painted Hills in Oregon. I had never seen anything like it before. The tan hills were striped with red and black and bursts of yellow flowers saturated the ravines. I was fascinated by this foreign landscape and vowed to go there someday.

Several years later in 2010, I took a road trip to Bend, Oregon over the 4th of July. I decided while I was there to take a day trip to the place I’ve been wanting to see. So Nali dog and I headed through the Ochoco National Forest to the Painted Hills Unit of the John Day Fossil Beds National Monument.

The hills appear otherworldly as you approach the overlook. The colorful strata alternate from tan to red to black and are volcanic in origin. The oldest layers date back to 35 million years ago when this area was a lush, warm, and humid place. Prehistoric animals roamed here: saber-toothed tiger, camels and elephants. The climate was ideal for fossil formation and over the years many important fossils have been found here.

Native Americans frequented the area gathering roots and fishing for salmon in the nearby John Day river. They were the first to discover and appreciate the fossils here. Much later, in 1811, John Jacob Astor sent trappers out to explore the region. An unfortunate member of the group named John Day became lost and was robbed by Native Americans at the mouth of the river that now bears his name.

The first stop along the way is the Painted Hills Overlook Trail. This short trail boasts incredible views of the hills in all their glory. The 1/2 mile round trip trail climbs only 100 feet, and Nali and I felt every foot of it in the blazing heat of mid-summer. It must have been 100 degrees. But it was very much worth it. Desert wildflowers burst from the sagebrush and I kept my eyes out for snakes.

Next I drove a bit further to the short Red Cove trail. A boardwalk curves around the natural smooth clay mounds that tower above your head. I’ve never seen a landscape with such a rich red hue. It seemed unnatural and I was surprised to see life flourishing in the unusual soil. In fact, some of the species here are endemic to the region due to the unique soil.

I wandered some more on the short trails throughout the park soaking up every bit with astonishment and wonder. I felt as if I had been transported to another world, especially because there were hardly any other people out on the trails. I wondered what it would have been like for the Native Americans and early explorers to just stumble upon this extraordinary place. What did they think of it?

I finally had to tear myself away for sake of the heat (and my poor black dog) and mosey back to Bend. But not without a stop in one of many small Central Oregon towns for an ice cream cone.

Hikes Featured in this Post:
Painted Hills Trails

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Road Trip

Smith Rock

April 4, 2017August 7, 2018
by Ashley Gossens

Have you ever stumbled upon a place by pure accident that turned out to be amazing? Many years ago, it happened to me at Smith Rock State Park. I was taking a little road trip to Bend, Oregon and planning out my trip on Google maps, looking for anything interesting along the way. I found a little green square close to Bend, indicating a park, and decided I would stop to check it out if I had some spare time without giving it much research or thought. Little did I know that I would happen upon one of the most beautiful places in Oregon.

Smith Rock State Park is located in the high desert of central Oregon and carved out of volcanic basalt. A caldera was formed 30 million years ago when the surrounding land collapsed into a lava chamber. Over time, the rock cooled and hardened and later, the Crooked River made its mark by carving out a canyon with 600 foot shear cliffs.

Smith Rock appears as a mirage as you drive toward it on completely flat terrain. It seemingly pops up out of nowhere and you can’t help but to go toward the towering features. There are several trails that meander along Crooked River in the green that clings to the river’s banks. Water fowl and other birds abound here and peregrine falcons and golden eagles nest in the cliff sides.

Sagebrush, ponderosa pine and desert wildflowers line the trails. Butterflies kiss the tops of yarrow. I was especially excited to see pink mariposa lilies and an old, twisted, fragrant juniper tree. The blue juniper “berries” are not really berries at all, they are the conifer’s cones. The birds are tricked into eating them and in turn spread their seed.

After wandering along the river a bit, I wanted to get up high and see the sights. I found a trail that headed up (very steeply) and climbed the rocky trail to Misery Ridge. Views expand for miles here. Nearby, I saw people rock climbing up an impossible looking column that had the unmistakable demeanor of a monkey. Later I found out that the tower is indeed called Monkey Face and is a popular climbing spot.

In fact, as I descended (more like slid down) the scree and headed back along the canyon floor, I learned that this is quite the rock climbing hot spot. In fact, it is a world class rock climbing spot and people from all over the world come to climb here. Want to try your skills? A long list of options appear if you look up climbing guides.

I also learned that there is some local lore about how the rock was named. Some say it was named after a US Calvary private named Smith who jumped from the spires rather than be caught by Native Americans. Although it is more likely that he actually fell from the rock during a bloody battle while he tried to get to a good vantage point. A less popular but most likely claim is that the rock is named after a sheriff called John Smith in the 1850’s.

As I headed back to the car I saw families picnicking and tourists alongside world class rock climbing athletes, birders, and just regular hikers like me. It is really a special place where anyone can find something to love.

Hikes Featured in this Post:
Misery Ridge Loop

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Road Trip

Columbia Gorge Waterfalls

April 19, 2016July 30, 2018
by Ashley Gossens

I’ve done the drive so many times I could do it blindfolded. From Seattle, drive south on I-5 for a million hours and turn left at the Columbia River. A familiar whirl of wind envelopes me like I’ve entered a wind tunnel into the past.

The gorge is filled with history. The formation itself is a fascinating story. A massive flood ripped down the Columbia River during the Ice Age. Ice dams that held the glacial Lake Missoula, broke apart sending a torrent of water flooding much of eastern Washington and the Columbia River. The flood waters carved out a canyon leaving only the hard remnants of ancient volcanic rock forming what we know today as the gorge.

Native Americans have lived in the gorge for over 13,000 years. Much like today, it was an important transportation corridor to travel and conduct trade. It was also an important source of salmon. Lewis and Clark travelled the gorge in 1905 on their way to the Pacific Ocean and early settlers established steamboat lines along the river.

The first stop on the old Columbia River Highway is the Vista House. Perched at 700 feet on the rocky Crown Point, the small stone observatory gives an eagle’s perspective of the gorge. It was built as a resting place for early adventurers in the times before the interstate.

The first thing you will notice as you descend from the Vista House is how green it is here. This area, with little protection from the Pacific Ocean and it’s weather, receives around 70 inches of rain a year. This combined with the steep canyon cliffs creates a wonderland of waterfalls.

The first major waterfall you encounter is Lautorell Falls. If you weren’t watching for the sign, you could easily miss it. Enjoy a short walk to the base of the 250 foot high falls or travel further to Upper Latourell Falls. The next falls is Bridal Veil. This popular short trail travels the north side of the highway to the pretty falls. Most people just stop to check out the falls, but there is a lovely loop that travels through some of the best camas displays I’ve seen, and it’s usually not as crowded.

The 620 foot high Multnomah Falls with its iconic Benson Bridge is incredibly beautiful, but it’s also incredibly crowded. Leave the crowds behind on the Multnomah-Wahkeena Loop Trail. You could conduct a day long scavenger hunt on this trail with all the waterfalls and wildflowers found here. Fairy Falls, Ecola Falls, Weisendanger Falls and Dutchman Falls all cascade along this route and the trail is lined with dutchman’s britches, fairy bells, mountain bells, cow poison and Oregon iris, just to name a few.

Next up is Horsetail Falls which greets you right at the trailhead. But by now you know that it takes just a little more effort to get to something even better. In this case, it’s Ponytail Falls. This one is particularly fun in that you can actually walk behind it. A trail cuts through the eroded space behind the falls giving you a whole new perspective.

Lastly, there is my favorite, Elowah Falls. It’s not particularly different than the others, but I just love the big patch of golden lichen growing on the rock nearby and it’s contrast with the green around it. The waterfall itself is inviting and appears like a cloud. I like to think that if I touched it, it would feel like ribbons of cotton.

There are endless numbers of waterfalls in this area, and these are just some that you could visit in a day or two. The adventure of the gorge is just beginning at this point. Continue east to cross over into a completely different land, one that is dry and arid in complete contrast to the green and wet western portion. As the sun is setting, drive up the winding switchbacks to Rowena Crest to see the sun light up the purple and gold of the bountiful lupine and balsamroot.

Hikes Featured in this Post:
Latourell Falls
Multnomah Falls – Wahkeena Falls Loop
Horsetail Falls Loop
Elowah Falls & Upper McCord Creek Falls

Road Trip

North Cascades, Hwy 20

November 12, 2015August 7, 2018
by Ashley Gossens

Fall is a time for reflection. It’s time to take stock and prepare for the winter, time to set priorities and hunker down and get things done. It’s a time to bring back tradition and most importantly, it’s time to go look at the larch. Yes, that’s right, larch. In most places around the country it’s time to look at the leaves, but the Evergreen State doesn’t turn orange and red as much as it just gets a little less green. But the larch are an exception to this. So we don our puffy jackets, hats, and mittens and drive high into alpine country to seek out these unique golden symbols of fall.

Larch are coniferous which means they have needles and cones like our other NW trees: Douglas fir, hemlock, spruce, etc. But unlike those trees which stay green all year, larch are also deciduous meaning their needles turn yellow and drop off in autumn. This is unusual for a conifer, but it is actually a great advantage for a tree that lives in a harsh winter environment. Trees lose their leaves because they begin storing extra nutrients instead of using them to make leaves. This gives them a nutrient boost that helps them survive the winter. Some other advantages are that the snow will not pile up on their branches causing them to break and they recover faster from forest fires since they have the ability to regrow needles.

So where to find the magical larch? Well, one of my favorite places is the North Cascades. Larch tend to grow on the eastern slopes of the Cascades so I like to find them near Rainy Pass on Highway 20. The key is getting up high into the nearby passes: Easy Pass, Cutthroat Pass, Granite Pass, Maple Pass. These are all spectacular places to see larch and incredible views.

There is something special about seeking out the larch in the fall. There is something to be said about the importance of tradition, but more than that, there is a sense of calm and peace that comes with autumn in the mountains. You notice things more. The cool air on your nose, the crunch of the leaves, the frost clinging to the shadows. The sky is a deeper shade of blue as the sun hovers closer to the horizon and the dense air dampens sound.

The old trail follows the creek

past ancient trees

and the sound of water.

The sky clears, light fades,

varied thrushes sing their two-note song

deep within the forest.

Once again, like visiting friends,

I walk into familiar mountains.

-Once Again by Saul Weisberg, Headwaters

This year I didn’t get out to see the larch turning. I was traveling throughout most of October including a trip to the east coast to visit family and revisit an old childhood tradition of mine, driving into the mountains to look at the leaves with my dad (more about that trip later). But as I flew over the Cascades I looked down to see the jagged mountains topped with yellow and my heart filled with joy.

I don’t always like to return to my favorite trails. That’s why I love the tradition of looking at the larch. I could spend a lifetime visiting all the trails with larch, and each experience would be unique. There is a sense of returning to a familiar place but without the expectations of repeating the same experience on a beloved trail. Sometimes the memories of our favorite places are enough and these places are better left not revisited. Kind of like your favorite childhood books, they are never as good as you remember them.

Now as the snow begins to fall in the Cascades, I revisit the larch through my memories and old photos. Normally I would be disappointed with this, but I’m giving myself a break. Besides, it is much warmer here as I snuggle in a blanket and sip tea, remembering the way I felt on those hikes and my feet don’t hurt. Sometimes just thinking about my favorite places makes me just as happy as visiting them. I especially like to use this technique while at the dentist or getting a flu shot.

Headwaters, Poems and Field Notes by Saul Weisberg

As I read this collection of poems I got the same feeling I get when I think of my favorite hikes. The poems are short and succinct and evoke a sense of place with every word. This is the type of poetry I’ve been looking for, the type that I can understand and doesn’t try to be anything more than it is. Saul writes about the North Cascades and is the executive director of the North Cascades Institute. He has worked in the Northwest as a climbing ranger, field biologist, fisherman and fire lookout and lives in Bellingham, WA.

Hikes featured in this Post:
Cutthroat Pass
Easy Pass

Outdoor Life

Granite Mountain Lookout

October 1, 2015February 23, 2018
by Ashley Gossens

I’ve been to this nearby lookout many times over the years, but the first time was my favorite. It was late September and Seattle was nestled under a chilly layer of clouds. I started hiking up in the shadows before entering the foggy layer. I was a little disappointed because I thought the lookout would be in the clouds. I wouldn’t see any views but I was looking forward to seeing the fall color anyway. To my surprise as I climbed I discovered that the cloud layer was not so thick and suddenly it was all pure blue skies. I was on top of the clouds and it felt like I was on top of the world.

It was my first fall hiking experience in the Cascades and I was in love. It felt like being in an airplane up there above the clouds. The air had a crisp coolness that refreshed me from all the climbing. And the yellow, orange and red color of the foliage popped against the bluebird sky.

When we got to the lookout my dog Nali, then only 6 months old, was hesitant to go up the flight of wooden stairs to the lookout. I picked her up and she whined. Apparently my dog was afraid of heights. What kind of adventure dog is afraid of heights?

I was greeted by a couple dressed in forest service khaki and the most amazing smell, so out of place that I almost didn’t recognize it. It was chocolate chip cookies fresh from the oven. The woman handed me one and my jaw dropped. It was still warm and it melted in my mouth. I was completely blown away by this simple gift. It was officially the best day ever.

I discovered that the couple were volunteer rangers just up there manning the lookout for the weekend. They showed me the Osborne fire finder and how they lined it up to determine the coordinates of a fire. I lingered above it, matching up the mountains etched in the metal with the ones I saw out the windows. The space was cozy with a cot and blankets, a desk and chair and that all important gas powered oven.

This past weekend I returned to Granite Mountain. It’s the same time of year that I made that first visit and I had high hopes when I woke up to a marine layer in Seattle. But the clouds didn’t stretch its fingers past the foothills under the unseasonable warm sun. And the lookout was locked up, no cookies this time. But it was a beautiful day so Nali and I climbed up the rocks to find a nice lunch spot and looked to the north. Jagged brown peaks pierced the blue sky as I spotted Glacier Peak and Mt Baker, more interesting, at least to me, than the views of Mt Rainier to the south.

I’ll never get a repeat of that first hike to the lookout. But there is still comfort in returning to a beloved trail. I know exactly what to expect and where the hardest part of the trail is. I know that the last push to the top is easier than it looks but will take every last bit of energy out of me. I know that when I get about halfway up I will wonder why on earth I would ever succumb myself repeatedly to this leg torture of a trail. And I know that as soon as I hit the meadows I will forget all of that. Most importantly, I know that I can make it to the top and that the hard work to get there is worth it. And maybe, just maybe, there will be a warm chocolate chip cookie waiting for me at the top.

I haven’t had another cookie experience like that one on my first trip to lookout many years ago, so I don’t want to get everyone’s hopes up. But you can create your own cookie experience with a recipe for my favorite version of the universally loved snack. Share some with strangers at the top to make it their best day ever.

Chocolate Chip Oatmeal Cookie Recipe:

1 1/4c flour
1/2 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp baking soda
1/2 tsp cinnamon
1/4 tsp salt
3/4c softened butter
3/4c brown sugar
1/3 c sugar
1 1/2 tsp vanilla
1 egg
2 Tbsp milk
1 3/4 c chocolate chips
1 c quick oats

Preheat oven to 350F.
Combine flour, baking soda, baking powder, cinnamon and salt in a bowl.
In a separate bowl, beat the butter, brown sugar, sugar and vanilla until creamy. Beat in egg.
Gradually beat in flour mixture and milk.
Stir in chocolate chips and oats.
Drop onto baking sheet and bake for 10-14 minutes.

Hikes featured in this post:
Granite Mountain

Outdoor Life

Park Butte Lookout

September 21, 2015September 24, 2019
by Ashley Gossens

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.

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

Sourdough Mountain Lookout

July 31, 2015August 7, 2018
by Ashley Gossens

When I decided I wanted to hike up 30 peaks before I turned 30, I knew I had to put Sourdough on the list. This hike has a reputation for being tough but incredibly beautiful and bonus: there is a lookout at the top! And not just any lookout but a lookout made famous by the poet Gary Snyder with views of the endless jagged North Cascade peaks as well as Ross Lake and the emerald green Diablo Lake. It’s nearly a vertical mile to the lookout but worth every last excruciating step.

In 1952, Gary Snyder was looking for work through the Marblemount forest service and requested to be sent to the “highest, most remote, and most difficult-of-access lookout” in the district. They all laughed at him and sent him to Crater Mountain. He fell in love with the lookout life on that sharp-peaked mountain with a non-existent trail. He had to stash his supplies farther down the mountain and take many trips scrambling up and down to the lookout. But he relished in the solitude and practiced his zen buddhism. At the end of the season he didn’t want to leave the mountain and couldn’t wait for the next summer to return.

But the forest service decided not to man the Crater Mountain lookout in 1953. Turns out that the over 8000ft summit of Crater Mountain was too high to make a good lookout. Often the high lookout was obscured by clouds while nearby lower peaks were clear of the ceiling. So Gary was assigned to Sourdough Mountain. Gary called Sourdough “so mild in comparison” to Crater Mountain, which is hard to believe, but he no longer had to scramble up to the lookout with supplies. The mules dropped it all off at the front steps. Unfortunately, that summer would be his last at Sourdough or any other lookout for the matter. It was the McCarthy era and Gary was black-listed from government work for having relationships with alleged communists. Heartbroken and determined to work in the outdoors rather than have a regular 9-5, he resorted to a logging job in Oregon. Some of his best poetry came from this hard time in his life.

But before Gary Snyder there were the Davises. The nearby Davis Peak is named for Lucinda Davis, a single mother with three children who moved from Colorado into an abandoned cabin which she turned into a supply store for the busy mining areas of Thunder and Ruby creeks in the 1890’s. Lucinda and her son Glee made the first horse trail up to the summit of Sourdough where they would go for picnics. In 1915, Glee set up the first fire lookout site in the North Cascades on Sourdough. It was just a tent camp then before Glee built the first lookout structure in the cupola style of the time in 1917. The lookout stood watch until the 1930’s when it was replaced by a more modern style. This modern structure is the lookout that Gary Snyder would later man in 1953 and still stands today.

Things to Do Around a Lookout

Wrap up in a blanket in cold weather and just read

Practice writing Chinese characters with a brush

Paint pictures of the mountains

Put out salt for deer

Bake coffee cake and biscuit in the iron oven

-Excerpt from poem by Gary Snyder

I climbed for what seemed like all day through the ghost forest on Sourdough when I broke out into the high meadows. I was yet to see another person on the trail and I stopped in my tracks to gaze upon the glacial green Diablo Lake almost a mile below. The sitka valerian and spirea swayed softly in the wind as my skin soaked up the sun. I tore myself away with the promise of even more rewarding views at the lookout. Just as I crested the summit I passed a man and his son just starting their descent. “You made it all the way up here on your own?” he asked. “You bet I did,” I replied.

Riprap and Cold Mountain Poems by Gary Snyder

This is Gary’s first book of published poems and it is the one that made him famous. There are a few poems in the book about his time as a lookout and as a logger in Oregon, but most of the poems are about his time spent in the Sierra Nevada in California where he still lives today. His style is heavily influenced by the beautifully simplistic Japanese style and was a revolution in American poetry in it’s day. This collection is a wonderful example of his great nature poetry and makes a great addition to the outdoor book lover’s bookshelf.

Hikes Featured in this Post:
Sourdough Mountain