My First Two-Nighter! Alone Even!

I've had my two-nighter planned for awhile.  Jewell and I were going to do a hike she's been eyeing for sometime--Tomyhoi Peak/Yellow Aster Butte.  But because we had such a crazy winter with loads of snow, followed by an exceptionally crappy spring/summer, the road to this hike was still not cleared, and may not be at all this year.  What a bummer-I had the days off, and I hated to see them go to waste.  Maybe I could do something else? 


As you've probably guessed, I'm a big fan of loops. (Trails that is...though I love the earrings too ;)  I found one in my "100 Classic Hikes in Washington State" book that looked pretty enticing--and most importantly it wasn't covered in snow.  All my friend's calenders were completely booked because of school starting/labor day, and I could tell Jewell was relieved to have this dropped off her already crammed schedule.  Ken encouraged me to do it on my own..."It will be an adventure".  (I do so appreciate his support) I was on the fence until the day it was 'do or die', then finally decided "Why not? If I'm going to really hike 50 days by myself, I'd better get an idea of what it's like." 


I was amped when I pulled into the Esmerelda Basin parking lot.  I had already dropped my pack 2 miles down the road at the De Roux turn off (where I would start my 'loop') as suggested on a hiking website, then drove my car up to where I'd be finishing, because there is nothing worse than hiking down to your car on a dusty old road when your ready to just be done. By the time I walked back down to my pack to start the loop, it was 6:00 pm.  I knew there was a place to pitch my tent (an old horse camp) that was early into the trail, but I wasn't expecting it to be just at the end of the road turn off...basically the parking lot. It had camp sites, picnic tables, and other people...everything I was planning on for my first night alone.  But a parking lot?  It just wasn't the romantic experience I had in my head. (The experience I got wasn't in my head either...but we'll get to that.)


Like I said--I was amped--with my pack on and ready to go...and it was now 6:30.  I looked at my map.  There were camp sites at Gallagher Head Lake--that was 4 miles in.  When does it get dark?  9:00ish?  That gives me two and a half hours.  I bet I could to that...and even if it's getting dark at that time, I have my little lantern and it's a clear night...I will be able to get set up OK. (BTW...I'm borrowing this tent from Rick, big surprise, and I've never tried putting it together before.)  Over confidence is not usually a down fall of mine, but when I really want to do something, I tend to over look some of my obvious shortcomings (like my ability to put together ANYTHING). So off I went, leaving that unsightly parking lot campground in my dust. I didn't even let the warning signs of rabid mountain goats stop me. 
 

I passed two women coming out on horses..."Are you staying the night on the trail?" they asked in a tone of shock.  "Yep" I replied, feeling like a real bad ass. (They were probably just wondering why the heck I was getting such a late start.) I knew I had to haul ass if I wanted to get to the lake in time. (Can I say ass two times in two sentences? Oops, that makes three--and too bad, I already did it.) I felt great (this really was an adventure!) as I kept referencing my map and  knew I was making good time. By the time 8:00 rolled around,  it was definitely 'dusky', but I was at the switchbacks and the lake was just at the top.

Those switchbacks were torture, because I kept thinking, "Ok, this has to be the last one" and the light kept getting dimmer and dimmer.  When I finally got to the top, it was flippin' dark. (My idea of still having light at 9:00 was way off.) And to top it off--no lake. I was done, so I just threw my stuff down in a field--it would have to do.  I hid my food bag the appropriate "100 yards" from my stuff (like I know how far that is..."not close to" is really all that means to me)  I had brought rope to hang my food in a tree...ummm, not going to happen.  The bears could have the food if they found it. Although, it did get me thinking about bears. I totally under-estimated my "you should not be out in the middle of nowhere by yourself in the dark" instinct. I'll confess, I was scared shitless. (Which was a good thing, because taking a poo at that moment was unthinkable.)


I got out my $5 little lantern I bought at Walmart (what did I tell you about failing the "just buy the good equipment" test?) and got to work putting together my tent. What a joke.  Did I mention there was now ominous clouds in the sky? I prayed it wouldn't rain (the forecast had only a sun with no cloud--I should have known better) and laid the tent down along with my 'self inflating' mat (only if you twist the cap--which I discovered the next night) and finally my sleeping bag on top. All I wanted was to get in that sleeping bag as soon as possible. Why being inside a sleeping bag would make me feel safer, (like a bear cares...heck, to him it's just a wrapper) but it did. But not safe enough to get much sleep, making this one of the longest nights of my life. Have you ever played the "I refuse to look at the clock" game, only to give in and discover it's been just an hour? That game sucks. I finally dozed off a little, and when I woke up there was some lightness in the sky. "Do I dare look at the clock? I bet it's not even 5:00 am."  I have never been so overjoyed to see 6:00 on a clock in my life! I had survived the night! Next post will be day two--where I ward off the rabid mountain goat.  (Just kidding!)

Baker River Trail

Back when we used to get the paper, (does anyone get a paper anymore?) I noticed a blurb for 'Hike of the Week".  I cut it out, and filed it in my 'misc' folder. (along with my sketches for the potting shed we never made, and the inspirational pictures for remodeling the kitchen that we never used)  I don't know what made me remember that hike, but I dug it out last weekend.  (it had to be in there for at least three years)  I was having another 'Devil's Mountain' kind of day, and figured it would be a good idea to sequester myself from other humans likely to tempt me to snap badly at them . (aka, my children) 


It was a beautiful drive to the Mt. Baker area, and it felt good to belt out whatever song came on the radio. (I cried singing Alicia Keys "No one"...if you've ever heard this song you'll know it's not even remotely sad.  If this doesn't prove I was hormonal, I don't know what would)  I was glad to have very clear directions to get there, complete with mileage from road turn offs and such.  I set my odometer at precisely the right times, so I would be sure not to get lost.  When I finally went the 6 miles past Mount Baker Campground, I looked for the "junction" where I would go left.  What the hell's a 'junction' anyway?  I mean, it's not exactly a fork in the road, right?  Is it just an intersection?  There was a road there, on the left, and a different campground on the right...but why not just say "turn left when you come to the next campground"?  But I turned left anyway...because I didn't want to question the precise directions.  "Go up the road half a mile to the large parking lot".  I figured if there was no parking lot in a half mile, then something was up.  But there was...an extremely creepy parking lot.  With one car full of teenage boys doing doughnuts.  Suddenly I really wished I had brought my dog, or at least a can of mace.  I turned around and headed back to the road, cursing those up-to-no-good boys.


I went across the street to the campground and found a bathroom.  I waited.  I decided to go back and give it another try, because maybe the boys left.  Sure enough, nobody was up there when I returned, so I drove around trying to find any sort of trail head sign.  Nothing.  I did find fire pits in the parking lot and quite a few beer bottles.  I didn't even bother getting out of my car...this was so off and I felt really, really uneasy.  What to do but start heading back and maybe do something else?  I drove about 15 minutes and pulled over to look at a map to try and find a different hike.  Yes, a map.  Why the heck I didn't look at it in the first place is beyond me...but I just had such total confidence in those detailed directions.  And there at the end of the road was "Baker River Trail", clear as could be.  So this is the all the directions I actually needed, "GO TO THE END OF THE FRICKEN ROAD". 


So I turned around and drove to the end and found the very clearly marked trail, complete with bathrooms and families and normalcy.  I was relived, and also pretty pissed I had wasted probably about 45 minutes because of those bogus directions. (when I came home and complained to Ken he just said, "You mean the paper got something wrong?"  I do love a man who is skilled in sarcasm) So here is hiking lesson #7; before driving to the trail head,  check at least two sources for directions to make sure they match up.  The hike itself was everything I was hoping for: easy, peaceful, beautiful. (sounds like a cover girl commercial, sorry) A calming stroll was just what the doctor ordered, and I returned home in a much better state of mind.

Family Hiking Day



How many people do you think have taken this picture?



 
I don't know why I put so much faith in weathermen.  Granted, if the forecast has a sun with a little cloud, I know there's no telling how the day may be.  But if it's just a sun, well, suddenly it's like a promise, "There will not be even one cloud in the sky.  You are guaranteed a beautiful day--enjoy!"  And because of the lack of sunshine 'situation' I've mentioned before, there really is pressure to make some sort of plan to get out in it.  I knew getting my kids to go hiking with me was going to be challenging...walking around in the woods in not usually a teenager's idea of a good time.  But, if there was a good swimming hole mixed in, and the assurance of hot weather, I knew I could sell it.  I looked online and found what I thought would be the perfect place--waterfalls, lake, not to far of a drive and only four miles round trip of hiking.


Bridal Veil Falls


I even convinced our friends Tim and Hilary to come with their teenager--this was going to be an epic family day!  Road block number one: our oldest boy has other plans.  No problem, we just replace him with one of his friends...project family bonding day is still afoot!  Obstacle number two:  looking up the hike again I notice it's not four miles round trip, but four miles in.  Do kids really have any concept of miles?  I'll just keep that information to myself and they'll never notice the difference...operation family fun cannot be stopped!  Complication number three: our friend Tim has taken off kite-boarding and is still not back and now Hilary is pissed and doesn't think she can meet us in time.  No problem, we just leave without him!  Onward ho!  (Tim did manage to catch up to us and they made up, so it was all good)


Our next snag...the giant gray mono-cloud is going to burn off, right?  I mean, the picture was a SUN with NO CLOUD.  That means I can take it to the bank...give it a couple more hours, we are going to have a blazing sun in the sky, no worries.  Hurdle number five: we need to buy a "Northwest Forest Pass". (Do not get Ken going on government permits and red tape. Just don't, trust me)  No problem, there's a little store that sells them on the way there...except they look closed.  Really?  On a Saturday?  No, their power is just out.  They are hooking up the generator.  Ok, not a problem, we can eat our lunch here in the parking lot until they open back up.  Are we having fun yet?

I know I'm making it sound as though my epic family day was an epic failure, but it really wasn't.  There was a point, though, when I thought it was-- reaching the top (after what felt like 20 million stairs.  Note to self: when the trail is steep, remember to triple the mileage in your head. That means if it's 2 miles, consider it feeling more like 6) and the kids had beaten us there and were already heading back down.

The sun never came out, they were freezing and getting bitten by mosquitoes and so disappointed they didn't want to swim but just get the heck out of there.  

Serene Lake

We let them go, except when we got up there we went a little bit further (just one more staircase!) and found 'lunch rock'.  It was awesome, and tempting enough to entice Ken to jump in the frigid water.  I felt so sad the kids missed it, but Ken encouraged me to just enjoy it as 'our moment', and so I did.

 The kids were in better spirits when we finally caught up to them at the trail head, and we stopped and got pizza on the way home. So, I think family day was a success.  However, next time Mr. Weatherman promises me sun, I think I'll plan a trip to the movie theater. ;) 

Rudy won a monkey and Oscar and Micheal (Kramer's replacement) got tattoos at the pizza place



Steamboat Rock

I've already admitted I'm not in good shape.  This could be a bit of a problem for someone who wants to hike 500 miles in 50 days.  But maybe not, I mean, that's only 10 miles a day.  But, I figure I should at least make an attempt at fitness if I'm going to label myself as a 'hiker'.  So I've decided I'm going to be a little more diligent about hiking daily (or at least walking)...and more than the usual 15 minutes around my neighborhood so my dog can take a poo.  (calm down...I don't let her go in the neighbors' yard!)  The day before we left for camping, I splurged and bought an ipod player. (I know, I haven't even bought a back pack yet.  There is time...and I need to train first, right?  And training means good tunes, everybody knows that ;) I could only afford to throw about 20 songs on there, but I figured that was enough to get me up and down Steamboat Rock...which I resolved to do every day on our camping trip.


this is supposed to be artistic, in case you were wondering

 I almost succeeded...I was pretty faithful except for the day we got there, the day we left, and the day I did that other hike because I needed recovery time from blood loss. (I guess that only leaves me with three times I actually did it...so much for bragging rights) 


this is also artistic...see how the rock is not in the middle, aka, 'asymmetric'? 
And I've never even taken photography classes!

I was excited to head up my last time during dusk, so I could get some good pictures.  I knew that once you were at the summit, you had the option of doing a loop around the top which would bring you to the back side where I was hoping to get some good sunset shots. 
One problem... I'm about as good with time management as I am with navigation.  Put them together and you have me realizing there's a good chance I'm going to have to crawl down this thing in the dark. 

And trust me, this is not something people should be doing--it's really steep and I fell on my butt several times in the light of day.  Even scarier was my imaginations of Ken's thoughts..."Why is this woman so intent on killing herself?  Why do I have to leave this cozy fire and try to go rescue her a@@?"  Ugh, I'm just not into being the damsel in distress. (I wish I was, cause I'm pretty good at it) I figured my only option was to run like hell, which I did.  I cut straight across that plateau, and just prayed I'd recognize where I was at when I got to the other side. (And not get bit by a rattlesnake in the process) 

And it felt kinda awesome, actually, ...except for all the pokey plant things sticking in my pants and socks. (Who wears velor sweat pants hiking? Didn't I say I needed a hiking 'What Not to Wear' intervention?) And as I was coming down the last stretch with just a few minutes of light left, I thought I saw Ken riding his bike toward the trail head, obviously coming to my rescue.  I waved frantically..."Look, I'm alive!  Calm your fears, dry your tears...she lives!"   That guy must have thought I was nuts.  I found Ken at the fire with his nightly cordial.  "Oh, your back."  Suddenly I was annoyed that he hadn't been worrying about me.  Women can be impossible, I know.

A Good Cry In My Tent

Time for a 'deep thoughts' post. I have to tell myself it's OK if I'm not funny, because being funny and deep at the same time is a challenge for me. And I have to remind myself it's OK if nobody likes my deep thoughts, or thinks I'm funny for that matter. (Sheesh, this blogging thing can really make a person feel vulnerable ;) 


I want to talk a little about an experience I had while camping...I would call it an "ah-ha" moment,  if Oprah didn't annoy me so much.  My sister gave me a book for my birthday called "One Thousand Gifts", and I brought it with me on our trip to read.  It's funny that I should mention Oprah getting on my nerves, because when my sister was explaining the book to me she said, "It's about making a list of the things your thankful for...but not like Oprah".  And even though I'm not a fan of Oprah's, I was a little put off that my sister would imply that just because Oprah is a non-Christain, her ideas about thankfulness are wrong.  But that's because I'm really in a defensive state when it comes to Christians, even though I would still consider myself one.  And being defensive is ugly, and I really don't want to be.  However, I just don't know how I fit into Christianity anymore.  My beliefs have changed, and they are not consistent with what most Christians believe.  It makes me feel separated, and well...defensive.  Still, I feel convicted when I read things like this:


How can there be oneness and unity when there are countless multitudes of Christian people disagreeing on many points of doctrine and belief, and considering one another’s beliefs and practices as error, superstition, heresy and dangerous perversions of the truth, while at the same time all the different groups claim the authority of Christ and his apostles in support of their own views?  If the basis of our unity is purity of doctrine and practice, then it is impossible.  But the basis of our unity is a Person, the Lord Jesus Christ.  It is not our understanding of his teaching and belief in his atoning death which unites us (for our apprehension of truth is so diverse), but our longing to worship and obey him according to the light which we have.  He is the ground of our oneness.  If only we would accept the fact that we all are wrong in some respects, and that lack of love and oneness lies at the bottom of our varying interpretations of the truth, surely we would be willing to go back to our first love and acknowledge our oneness.


And I believe this, and I want to live this out...then I remember that the woman who wrote it (Hannah Hurnard, author of "Hinds Feet on High Places") was completely ostracized by Christians for having some of the same change of beliefs that I do.  (I saw one website where she was called a witch...doesn't really help with my defensive problem)  Nevertheless, here I am reading a Christian book...but I'll confess, I had my guard up.  Except I found the book beautiful, and it touched me deeply.   Here is a quote: (with my editing)


Is this eucharisteo (thanksgiving) the way to that elusive fullest life, the one that lives in the moment?  What my sister urges when I get angsty and knotted about tomorrow, when I sorrow for what is gone, her words always tugging me to stay right here--"Wherever you are, be all there."  I have lived the runner, panting ahead in worry, pounding back in regrets, terrified to live in the present, because here-time asks me to do the hardest of all: just open wide and receive. "Wherever you are, be all there" is only possible in the posture of eucharisteo.  I want to slow down and taste life, give thanks, and see God.


I know 'living in the moment' is such a buzz phrase right now, but I don't care.  It's how I want to live, and it has nothing to do with being trendy.  (And maybe that's all my sister meant when she dissed Oprah...I know I dissed Oprah too, that's why it's supposed to be funny.  I told you I'm bad at being serious and funny at the same time)


So, to explain my "experience" I mentioned at the start: While we were camping, my youngest had one of her overly-stimulated, overly-tired, overly-emotional meltdown moments.  And when she gets like that, I really just want to give her a long, hard shake.  (Is there such a thing as "shaken 10 year old syndrome"?  Not funny either?  Sorry, I'll stop.)  But I was doing my motherly duty...calming her down, helping her put on her lotion,  laying down next to her in the tent and stroking her hair so she could fall asleep. (She has eczema, and rolling around in the sand all day is just the thing for it...oops, there I go again.  Does sarcasm count?) And I could hear everyone at the other campsite (where the fire was) just laughing and having a great time...and I resented it.  I resented having to do my motherly 'duty', and I couldn't wait until she was asleep so I could get out of there and where the fun was. 


It's hard to explain what happened next, but I'm going to try.  God seemed to say, "Why?". (In my heart and mind--I know there's no proving it was God.  I'm worried it sounds arrogant to say I heard from God, but that's probably just my defensiveness at work)  So, God asked me why I wanted so badly to be over there, instead of being right here.  And it just clicked, how much I've missed and lost and haven't enjoyed because I wanted something other than what I had. Please understand, even though my whole life I've struggled with shame about being 'ungrateful', I wasn't experiencing shame at this moment. Tremendous regret and sadness, yes;  but also mixed with wondrous joy and hope...because it felt like I was changing.  My resentment was gone, totally gone, and in it's place was happiness--and it was real, not me gritting my teeth and saying "yes, I understand I'm supposed to be grateful", but a complete appreciation for how awesome it was to sit in that tent and stroke my beautiful, amazing, flaw filled daughter's hair.  And also an even bigger appreciation and love for God, who gave me the eyes to see it.  One more quote (again, with some editing) from today's reading. (I'm on chapter 9)


Let God blow His wind, His trials, oxygen for joy's fire. Leave the hand open and be. Be at peace.  Fullness of joy is discovered only in the emptying of will.  And I can empty.  I can empty because counting His graces has awakened me to how He cherishes me, holds me, passionately values me.  I can empty because I am full of His love.  I can trust.  I can let go.  Dying to self demands that I might gratefully and humbly receive the better, the only things that a good God gives.  This eucharisteo is no game of Pollyanna but the hard edge of blade.   This is the way the self dies, falls into the arms of Love.  This is why the fight for joy is always so hard.  I accept the gift of now as it is--accept God--for I can't be receptive to God unless I receive what He gives.


Amen, let it be so, in me and in all.

Confessions of a Naughty Boy Scout

What can I say about living in Washington state?  For everyone who lives here and is reading this I don't have to say anything. We know exactly what we hate about living here and we like to complain about it a lot. But to my Russian readers (I actually have gotten some hits from Russia--isn't that weird?) I will explain that we get a lot of rain. But going any further to emphasize how dire our lack of sunshine situation is, to someone who lives in Russia, well...the fact you live in Russia really takes all the fun out of it.  Granted, I don't really have a clue what it's like to live in Russia, but my guess is it's much more difficult than living in Washington state.  But if someone from Russia could let me know if I'm wrong, I'd appreciate being set straight.  (Then I'd actually know I have a fan in Russia!)


There is a little secret we have here though...a magical place called "Eastern Washington". You can actually get a sunburn over there!  So, in our quest for vitamin D and a chance at skin cancer, we load up our tents and swimsuits and make the five hour trek over the mountains every summer...and this is the setting for my next two hikes.   The main hike and the one the campground is named after I'll save for next time. The hike I'm describing here is one I've wanted to do for the past two years, but you have to take a short drive to get there. This has been a hard sell, because usually the weather is always so blessedly hot it's pretty near impossible to get anyone out of the water long enough to even think about leaving the campground.  But because this year was much milder, I was able to talk a whole group into venturing out to do Northrup Canyon.

Everyone was excited looking at the little pamphlet that explained that we should look out for snakes (Danger!..awesome) and an old homestead we would come across. (History!...not as awesome as snakes, but still awesome)

 

The one thing the pamphlet failed to mention, because it was definitely NOT awesome, was the mosquitoes.  I'm not talking a few mosquitoes--everyone knows there's always some mosquitoes...I'm talking ravenous swarms of flesh puncturing beasts that have been lying in wait for days for anything with blood to walk through.

(see all the red bumps?)

And this is why I love my husband, because he is a boy scout...and boy scouts pack backpacks for any and every hike with things like extra water, jackets, AND bug repellent!  So as we were getting sniped from all sides, Ken pulls out the magic elixir and saves the day. Now, when I say "we", I mean just the two of us.(we were behind because this is a group of dutch amazons and my legs are 4 inches shorter than everyone else's...plus I'm in lousy shape, so Ken was compassionately walking slow)

As Ken is hosing me down with deet, he is mischievously watching everyone ahead of us swat themselves uncontrollably and confesses, "I was only thinking of self preservation when I stuck this in my pack".  And this is why I love my husband even more, because he's a naughty boy scout.  Of course, everyone eventually discovered our secret and came clamoring after the spray, praising Ken for looking out for every one's well being...but I knew better.   Thankfully there was enough for all and we made it out of there with a few ounces of blood left.  Next post I'll describe my second near death experience, on Steamboat Rock.

The Non-Torture Trail

I really didn't think I would blog about this hike, because frankly, it was pretty uneventful. And well, I want to keep my followers entertained...I have 7 now!!! Oh, the pressures of celebrity! (yes, I'm poking fun at myself, in case anyone thinks I actually think that's impressive) I've even had a couple 'hits' from Indonesia, and 24 from Russia believe it or not...isn't that weird? I'd love to know how they even came across it with all the billions of blogs floating around in cyberspace. But more importantly...do they like it? Do they come back to it because they think I'm funny? Maybe they think I'm inspiring! And before you know it, I actually do become delusional and think any of this actually matters. 

Therefore, I decided to go ahead and blah, blah, blah about this hike once I reminded myself that 1) your not getting paid to do this,  2) your doing this simply because you enjoy writing...especially when nobody is grading it and you can use all the dot-dot-dot's and parentheses you want, and 3) the whole world over, you still only get a couple hits a week, and those are probably just nuts looking for porn. (Not 50 days of sex?  BORING!)  And so, my non-titillating hike of this month is Sugarloaf Mountain. (Ok, all of a sudden 'sugarloaf' sounds dirty to me. I could insert any number of naughty jokes here...ok, ignore the word 'insert' before this gets any worse ;)  

Anyway, mind out of the gutter, this is a hike I was invited to go on with a whole family:  Melissa, her husband Rick, two kids, sister, and Rich, who is "framily". (New word. Honest, look it up.) I decided this was a hike to bring my daughter, Summer, along as well. If anyone has read "The Torture Trail", you'll know why I think long and hard before taking my youngest hiking with me. Summer can bring on the drama in a hurry; but most of the time she's great, so I thought I'd better give her another chance. And because somebody else was in charge of navigation, I figured our chances of getting lost were reduced significantly. (Though Rick did think we were lost at one point and complained that the map was confusing. A small vindication.) Plus, a camera was involved, and like her mother, Summer thinks a photo shoot increases the fun factor of any event considerably. 

When we got to the top, I realized the view would have been worth some drama, had there been any. Though, come to think of it, there was a little, but not from Summer. Melissa admitted she was wearing long johns and got reamed from the guys because it's July. But she was all smiles at the top when the wind was kicking up and the sun was going down and she was all cozy and we were all quivering like a bunch of chihuahuas after a fireworks show. 

But my shivering Summer, she endured it drama free--and she even came up with hiking lesson #6:  "If bringing hard boiled eggs as a snack, be sure to only eat one, no matter how good they taste."  It was a good thing this was not an overnight hike, because that was a lesson hard earned enough as it was, even without having to get up and dig a bunch of holes. And Summer up to this point had not even peed in the woods...but on the way down she swallowed her pride and snuck off trail to take a piddle instead of complain all the way down how bad she had to go. I will consider that serious progress. :)