Mount Pilchuck and the Masses

People...

People...

 

...and more people

Let me just start with hiking lesson #21…if the hike you are thinking about doing is described as one of the most popular in Washington and cheerfully warns to “expect company and enjoy the camaraderie”, you may not want to pick the last Saturday of the summer to do it. And especially don’t take anyone who hates crowds. (like my husband…I thought Disney World was going to kill him)

Ken's arm is just long enough to get the sign in

Issac was kind enough to pull up the rear with me

But how can you not want to sneak a hike in on the last weekend of the summer, especially when it’s a perfectly glorious 70ish day? Ken couldn’t resist, even with all the work he knew he should be doing. Our friends were also looking for any excuse to be out in the sun. I called them LAST minute (leaving in an hour) just to ask if they knew how long it would take to get to Pilchuck. I didn’t think there was any chance they could swing going on such short notice, but as soon as Melissa asked, “Hey Rick, how far is it to Mount Pilchuck?”, I heard him answer, “Can I come?” 

I was thrilled to have a group to go with me—the more the merrier, right? Well…I have to say that expression has a saturation point. It’s merry until you drive into the parking lot and see at least 50 other cars. Apparently half the state of Washington was also looking for an excuse to leave their chores behind. 

I cut Melissa out of the picture because she had "chewing face"--sorry Mel

Melissa and Ken (the long legs, as me and Rick would call them) would get way ahead, only to be stalled by another group of slow pokes. Melissa finally asked, "Can't we just scramble up another way?", to which me and Rick (Rick and I? English is a stupid language ;)) quickly scolded, "Now, what would happen if everyone did that?" Not 10 minutes later, both Rick and I (is that better?) took a little side path around some people (trying to catch up to the long legs, of course) and got chewed out by another hiker. (well, I got chewed out--Rick conveniently disappeared) It really sucks getting busted for something you just told someone else not to do...but that's what you get for not following your own rules. (remember lesson #5, "no matter how tempting, stay on the trail"?...oops)

It does not look like they are on the trail!  Naughty, naughty!

Rick always wanted his own throne

When we finally got to the lookout tower, it reminded me of a bee hive. Ken was definitely not "enjoying the camaraderie"...I'm glad I couldn't read his mind, even though I know what he was thinking. But the fact is, regardless of how annoyed we are at the masses, we have to realise we are part of the masses. When I pointed out this bit of zen wisdom to Rick, he jokingly responded, "Yeah...but don't they know who we are?" And though he was kidding, that is sort of the heart of the problem, isn't it?--Deep inside thinking we are better than others. I know that's an attitude I always have to keep in check.    


Is this staying on the trail?

Monkey see, monkey do

And so, if you decide to visit the "Social Mountain", (as the WTA describes it) be sure to have your 'zen' on, remember we are all created equal, and get your butt in line.

Three Fingers

Happy to be part of the masses!

Craft Island

I confessed on my Skagit Bay Estuary post that until recently, Fir Island just wasn't on my map.  It's embarrassing to live your whole life in one area, and still be so clueless--but there you have it.  Sweet Sassy Pants (a new "follower"...so exciting!) was kind enough to let me know of another treasure off Fir Island--Craft Island.  There are so many little islands around here!  I can name about half of the San Juan Islands, but that's about as far as my memory will serve me.  Don't even ask me a mountain name; Baker and Rainer, that's all I got.  I'm trying really hard not to be such an idiot...Three Fingers, White Horse and Pilchuck...see, I remembered!  These are the mountains we could see from our quaint little spot on Craft Island, but I'm getting ahead of myself.

You can't see them, but the mountains are that way

I bought my husband a skim board for his birthday because I heard this is a place you can actually use one. (Northwest beaches are not known for sandy shores; they are known for rocks and logs) When we had our good friends over for a birthday dinner, a plan was devised to head out to Craft Island and try it out on the next Sunday afternoon.  I had to nine-to-five it that day, so it was decided that Ken would go with them, and I would swing by on my way home from work. 

Skim boards shining in the sun

The coolest part is that our friends live close enough to Craft island that they could just jump on their jet skis and get there that way...the closest thing we'll ever have to being 'jet setters'. It was an amazingly beautiful, hot, and cloudless day; so it didn't matter that I would be getting there late--or that I had to go the muddy trial route.

I hesitate even calling this a 'hike'...it's more of a path to make it to the water.  But, you still have to use your legs, right?  If you decide to go there, I suggest better footwear than slip on fashion sneakers.

Mystery Island

By the time I got to the river/bay (it's right where the two come together), the tide had come in...so no skim boarding for me.  I enjoyed just watching the kids swim, and looking at the breathtaking views. (this is when I asked what the mountain names were, and the other island to the right...but I've already forgotten that)

See the jet skis?

What a wonderful way to end the day...even if it meant wreaking my work shoes. :)

Heading back...not everyone can be a jet setter!

Subject to surveillance? Sounds like they have hidden cameras or something

Saved by the Birds

When I was thinking about writing this post, I thought I would call it "Blame it on the Rum".  I was going to start by explaining how this is an expression me and my girlfriends sometimes use, and we even made up a very silly song that goes with it. (any country singer out there that wants to steal that song title should go for it...I think it's pretty brilliant) Then I was going to explain why I was drinking rum the night before deciding to do this hike--which consequently lead me to plead for help on my favorite hiking forum because I knew I was not thinking straight. (and they talked me out of doing "Lake Ann", thank God)  But, explaining why we made up that song, or why I happened to be boozing it up on a Thursday night...well, that's probably more than anyone needs or wants to know. 

The hike that was so mercifully recommended was "Skyline Divide", and I knew it was the perfect fit.  It's only 2 miles to the payoff views, which I knew my oldest daughter and her friend Misun could handle. (my oldest enjoys hiking more than my youngest--but after doing Oyster Dome, she prefers avoiding too much uphill) 

After picking up Misun in Bellingham, we were on our way to the Glacier ranger station to buy our Northwest forest pass.  The poor woman at the information counter must have spent 5 minutes trying to explain to me what passes are needed at which parks and why.  I won't complain about the $30 bucks though...I appreciate our parks too much and I know the money is really needed.

As soon as we got to the trail head and got out of the car, we were attacked by horseflies. It got a little crazy--everyone running around swatting and screaming--I was so glad I brought the deet as recommended on the latest trail report.  

It kept them from biting, but unfortunately not from constantly buzzing around us.  It was annoying for sure.  I was trying to tell myself to consider the noise the same as a hummingbird's, but of course that didn't work. (buzzing and humming really aren't that different.. it's weird to think about why one is so irritating while the other is pleasant)

I will blame the fact that I was even slower than usual on the previous night's libations. ("Blame it on the rum"...you always have to sing it. I wish you knew the tune; it's quite catchy)  Usually I can count on Amber being at least close to me--but both girls were almost always waiting for me to catch up.  Occasionally I would gain on them enough to see Amber wildly whipping the branch she was carrying around in an attempt to ward off the flies.  I think it just made them madder. 

Hurry up, Mom!

When we finally got to the grassy knoll, Amber was pretty much over it.  "Yes, the views are amazing, Mom...I see them. Can we go now?"  She let me know she didn't love all the uphill (I sort of purposely failed to mention that when I asked her if she wanted to go) and she was especially loathing the flies. I could tell she didn't care much about sitting down for a nice lunch--what she really wanted to do is pull the legs off of each and every fly and boil them in a pot. 

But she humored me, and we found a gorgeous spot amidst the wildflowers.  After taking a few pictures, we all started to feel a little better. (nothin' like a photo shoot to make the assaults of nature more tolerable ;)  It wasn't enough to make the girls want to stay though, and it saddened me to know this hike, even with the amazing views, was only going to be remembered as "That hike we took with all those horrible flies".  Sigh...time to head back down in defeat.

Look close, a fly (or bee?) made his way into the picture

This is when we saw them; two hikers, sitting in a nice spot by the trees.  Then one lifted his hand...and a bird swooped out of the trees and landed on it!  To appreciate the effect this had on my daughter, you need to know that she was obsessed with birds as a child. (obsessed it not too strong a word--every year at Halloween I had to come up with some new bird outfit)  This obsession mellowed in time to a very dear love and appreciation for birds, and the wide-eyed look on her face when she turned to me and gasped, "They will do that?" conveyed it all. So anyway, from that second forward the hike changed from something she was enduring, to something she was 100% immersed in.  As she stood there, watching the bird eat out of her hand with bugs buzzing all around, I jeeringly asked, "What about the horseflies?".  With a bit of a smirk, she simply replied, "They have become irrelevant". 

I have a horrible confession to make; we used our leftover potato chips to feed the birds. I know it's awful--honestly, I feel really bad about it, because I can't imagine it's any good for them.  But I'd like to see you tell them to stop, especially when you look into Misun's adorable sparkling eyes when she gleefully announces, "this is so magical!" So, to avoid this horrible moral dilemma, I strongly encourage anyone who plans on doing this hike to take some bird appropriate food along with them.  I want to make sure these wonderful creatures who turned our horsefly hell into bird paradise are well taken care of.

Mount Constitution

"The best laid plans of mice and men often go astray" is a quote from Robert Burns, and I think it's a good way to begin the rundown of my last hike.  A side-note before I begin; I looked up this quote because I never knew the full version. I would always say, "the best laid plans, right?", knowing it meant no matter how well you plans things, you can never guarantee a good outcome.  I had no idea the quote is from a poem, where Robert is apologizing to a mouse for accidentally plowing up his nest, and is the source for the title of the famous John Steinbeck novel Of Mice and Men. So, thank you Google for that little history lesson.

This hike took some extra "best laid plans", because two of my girlfriends were coming, and we had to catch a ferry.  "Herding cats" is how we always describe trying to co-ordinate an outing together, therefore I was so proud that even though I picked up each gal at her house (two opportunities for plans to go awry) we were ahead of schedule.  I didn't read anywhere that we needed to be at the ferry terminal any earlier than an hour prior to loading--so we were golden...NOT. 

The Cats

The ferry to Orcas Island is a popular one--apparently even on a Thursday.  Indeed, it's so popular that people who wanted to catch the 12:30 ferry couldn't get on and had to wait for the 2:00...which meant no room for the people thinking they were good for the 2:00.  This problem compounded to the tune of a four hour wait for poor us.  Since we didn't happen to bring night vision goggles along, (heck, we didn't even have a decent flashlight between the three of us) we knew our 6 mile hike up Mount Constitution was a bust.

Killing time at the ferry terminal...Jewell is getting a snack.

Not really...just a bust for that day.  Luckily, we had reservations at Moran Sate Park, so we still had Friday to do our hike.  The unlucky part was knowing clouds were coming in the next day, and would obscure the amazing view on top--which was kind of the whole point.  Plus, we were hoping to spend Friday exploring the cute little shops...you really don't want to mess with a girl's shopping time!

Not exactly sure what 'two drews' are...but you may be looking at them.

Since our itinerary was shot to hell (and trust me, I had one written out...it's my one area of OCD, and I'm ok with that) we couldn't decide what we should do.  Stop in town even though most the shops are closed? Why not! Eat dinner at a restaurant because it's so late and who wants to bother cooking camp food? Hard to argue with that.

Finding our 'center' in the middle of town.

But again...any attempt at 'best laid plans' were immediately going astray as we found each restaurant packed to the gills. (another expression I use with no idea as to where it came from, but I'm sure it would be interesting to Google it)  Should we cheat, and drive to the top of Mount Constitution to get good pictures before actually hiking it? (I like the word 'improvise' better)  As you can see from the pictures, we all decided improvising was the way to go.

Mt Baker barely in view

Something magical happened when we were up top and the light was almost gone...the 'night hawks' came out.  Here is a quote from Wikipedia:

"A night hawk is a nocturnal bird...the flight of the Common Nighthawk is erratic and jerky, as it attempts to prey on various flying insects. The white bands on its underwings are easily seen as it flies in the evening, at an altitude that is often well above the treetops. Also of note is nighthawks' mating ritual. Males will gain considerable altitude, then perform a power dive; as they pull up from the dive, the wings make a sudden, low sound that is called "booming".

A nocturnal bird...who knew? (besides owls, of course) But one thing's for sure, they were amazing to watch. I wish I would have tried to record it on my new camera, but I was too caught up in the moment. We did have some fun teasing our friend, Jewell, who is known for some flatulence issues. (she owns it, and I love her for it) "You have that mating call down!"...and she agreed, it was her chance to commune with nature. 

  
We were true to our word, and did the hike the next day even with our preview the night before.  I worried that it would seem anti-climactic, but it wasn't.  Every part of the hike up was amazing, and I loved every second.  

Hilary's husband commented "You can't call it a hike if there is a store at the end".  Maybe, but we still bought commemorative tee shirts. 

And so I come to a very substantial hiking lesson, and appropriately it's the big #20...when plans go awry, there is no need to worry.  Sometimes the very best of plans are the ones you make on the fly.

A small clearing of sky on Friday

Park Butte, or Baker Lake?

This last weekend was one of those times when it seems like no matter how much housework you do, everything is still a disaster.  My oldest son moved back home this summer for a couple months...but I'm sure that has nothing to do with it. ;)  Which reminds me of a story my sister used to tell after her son moved out and into Grandma's house.  He comes home for a visit and says, "Wow, the house sure seems a lot cleaner than usual", and then pauses while the wheels are turning and adds, "and come to think of it, Grandma's house is a lot messier than it used to be".  Hummm...what an odd coincidence! Anyhow, I kept trying to get ahead of things enough to justify going on a hike when I finally realized I was never going to feel that way--but I did know I needed to get the heck out of there before I lost my mind.  Unfortunately, I didn't wave the white flag until about 1:30 in the afternoon, which limited my options quite a bit.


I thought I should bring my youngest daughter (Summer) and her friend (Sydney) along with me.  Summer is not a huge fan of hiking, which I've mentioned on here before; but her friend Sydney is another story.  I took her with us to hike Mount Finlayson a couple years ago, and she fell immediately in love with hiking.  I knew Sydney would LOVE the hike I had my eye on, (Park Butte) but I also knew Summer would not be up for it. After hemming and hawing for far too long, we finally left for Park Butte at about 2:30--though I had serious doubts we would be able to finish the whole thing. (it's 7.5 miles...definitely in the 'whine zone' for Summer)


Park Butte is what I would call a destination hike, meaning the best part is getting to the end.  In this case, it's a lookout tower.  I kept thinking about the fact that it was really going to bug me not to finish this hike and see the tower. (I've never done it before--it's "on the list")  Driving through Sedro Woolley I decided to pull over at the Ranger Station/Visitor Center to see if they could give me some advise.  Why I don't do this more often is a mystery, because it's a really great place with awesome people who know everything about the area and have all kinds of maps and stuff.  And the very helpful information they gave me is that Park Butte is still covered in snow.  (no wonder I couldn't find a trip report....lesson #18, if a popular hike hasn't gotten a trip report in awhile, there is probably a good reason)

Good times at the ranger station

Baker Lake trail has been on my list too, but on the 'overnight' list because it's long.  If you look it up, you'll most likely come up with "East Baker Lake Trail" which is way at the end of the road along with the Baker River Trail. (I will never forget how to get there--you can read about that experience on my "Baker River" post)  The lady at the ranger station pointed out there is a trail head on the other end of the hike, which is less of a drive. She gave me great directions and we got there without a problem.

Cross Baker dam and go about a mile, the trail head is on your left

We did pretty minimal hiking, but it was pleasant.  The sign at the beginning let us know it was only a mile to "Noisy Creek"...and you better believe Summer noticed it and gave her 'vote' indicating that to be the optimal destination.

And it was, actually.  The girls felt pretty adventurous going over this log bridge.  It doesn't look very scary, but the water underneath was more terrifying in person.

At this point we were able to go down to where the creek emptied into the lake--which was a great place to swim, if it wasn't ice cold.

Sydney got Summer to get in with an offer of five bucks...she was out in about 2 seconds.  I got Summer to hike more of the trail with an offer of milkshakes on the way home...which lasted about 20 minutes. (in her defense, she stubbed her toe badly; lesson #19, make your kid wear shoes, even if she thinks she's Pocahontas)  I know Sydney was thoroughly disappointed...I swear that kid could've gone another 10 miles if she wasn't hiking with "slow and slower".

Cool lightning tree

Heading back I realized I wasn't just "slower", but quite possibly "slowest"...like maybe ever.  Here I am with a kid who doesn't even like hiking and has an injured foot, and she's still a hundred feet ahead of me at all times.  Sheesh!  When the girls got distracted with a dead shrew, (and a slug headed towards it...will it eat it?! Oh the wonders of nature) I thought it would be my opportunity to get a good lead and maybe even beat them to the car.  Not a chance--even with Sydney taking half the pictures you see in this blog, they still kicked by butt.   If there is anyone out there that wants to prove they are the slowest hiker ever, I welcome the challenge.  It's a title I wouldn't mind giving up. 

P.S. Did you notice I changed my blog title?  I was sick of people thinking I was fifty. (and not even commenting on how awesome I look for 50!)  If anyone's curious, I'm actually 44.