Fifty has Arrived

It's official. I'm 50. The problem with dreaming up and organizing and writing for 8 years about a "when I turn 50" plan, is that it kind of makes it feel like you've been 50 for at least the last 3 of those years. You shouldn't feel like "It's about time!" when you hit a half-century, should you? But at the same time it feels good...why not feel excited about getting old instead of dreading it? My neighbor came over and asked me about how I felt hitting this milestone, and I replied "I love getting old, grey hair, and I love being a grandma!" She posted my answer on Facebook the day of my birthday as "the best quote ever"...but she left out the second half of the story. 

After asking me how it feels getting old, she turned to my husband and inquired, "How about you?"

"I just hurt."

It got a big laugh, and continues to get laughs whenever either of us tell it; but it also makes me sad. Ken works so hard--he's always worked hard, and everything I have and get to do is because of his support. I think that's why I dream so much about somehow cashing in with writing about my adventures; it would feel so good to be able to give back. Then maybe he could relax more, and hurt a little less. 

Though one of the benefits of my hiking obsession is Ken didn't have to throw a big party, because all I wanted was to be on the trail. I know, I know...isn't 50 days enough to ask for? I'm greedy, it's true--but my big trip does not start until August; and waking up in a tent the day I actually turned 50 was really important to me. Luckily I have friends who wanted to come along with, so I didn't have to celebrate the occasion alone.

I picked one of my longest standing bucket list trips, the Chelan Lakeshore Trail. (A perfect choice for mid-June, I must say!) I almost feel guilty for even writing about it...the whole experience was almost too good to be true. I usually talk about hiking misery and hardship, so I'm afraid after reading this you will hate me; because it's not fair that I should have so much fun. I am sorry!!! But I do promise there will be more misery and hardship in the near future. ;)

Meadow Creek camp

After wine tasting in Leavenworth (see? Starting off with wine tasting...really?!) Heather, Leigh and I made our way to 25 Mile Creek to car camp so we could catch the Lady of the Lake early next morning. Car camping equals not having to pack anything in, which means cake + gifts + ukulele jam + giant fire...minus a back ache and sore feet. Makes you wonder a little why you ever bother with the backpack, right? 

You'll have to ask the girls if the ukulele jam was actually
a good idea or not ;)

Backpacking=sore feet, 100%!!

On June 12th my wish came true; and as I woke up that morning in the tent, my first thought was of my mom. I reflected on how exciting and scary it is the day you give birth, and imagined all that she must have been feeling that day, 50 long years ago. I thanked her for choosing to have a 3rd child, and for always making me feel that I was exactly what she wanted and hoped for. I've never talked about this to anyone, but when I'm alone on the trail, that's when I feel like my mom is watching me most. I especially notice hummingbirds, and feel like they are a little sign from her. So when I got out of the tent that morning and heard one, I immediately exclaimed to Heather, "I hear a hummingbird...do you see it?" She said, "Yes, it was right above your head--almost like a little angel." It was all I could do not to burst into tears.

Jamie caught the boat in Chelan, and was waving from the top deck to us as it pulled up to the Fields Point Landing dock. With all our planning and group texts, we kind of forgot to mention we were catching it there instead of Chelan...it was almost a fiasco; but thankfully she figured it out, despite the fact we had zero cell service that morning to fix our mistake. 

This was only Jamie's third backpack, so I felt very honored that she was on board (literally and figuratively!) and especially honored that night when she revealed her birthday present.

She got it for me because the whole "Sinfire" brand is a little joke between us, but I was dumbfounded that she had actually packed it the whole way in to surprise me.The glass bottle alone must have weighed 3 pounds! It might have only been 7 miles to our Meadow Creek Camp, but it's much more elevation than you'd expect, so it was no stroll. When she pulled that gargantuan jar out of her pack, we all looked at her like she was crazy! (Us "experts" know to go for the lightweight flask ;)) but we did our darnedest to lighten the load that night.

Surprisingly, I wasn't too hungover in the morning, but the 10 miles to Stehekin still felt like in impossibility. Lord knows I need to get in better shape! The thought of a daily average of 10 miles a day for 50 days strikes terror in me; although the truth is it's actually a very low bar for any long-distance hiker...even in the crappy shape I'm in now, it's a doable goal. Except if I could just get my act together a little, maybe I can lessen the suffering.

Do I have to keep going?

About a mile before coming into Stehekin, we got the "false peak" fake out. We saw a building ahead, and were sure we had finally made it. (Turned out to be somebody's house...though I thought strongly of going up to the door and asking if they minded guests!) When you are super exhausted you can almost guarantee experiencing this syndrome...I might even declare it the most difficult part of hiking. It's so crushing to have to keep going when you just gave what you thought was all you had to make it to a fake finish line. The good news is, I'm able now to push the disappointment aside quickly; because I've also learned you always have more to give than you thought possible...and I might declare that the most inspiring part of hiking.

Stehekin, along with its famous bakery, was everything I had hoped for and more. I won't make you hate me any further by continuing with the funny stories of our time there; but I hope I've encouraged you to put it on your own bucket list...and maybe inspired you not to wait until you're 50 to check it off.

Dreaming is Free

I've never considered myself a dreamer. I'm more what you would call a realist...at times maybe even a pessimist. Life just tends to be more palpable when you don't expect too much. But for better or for worse, dreams have crept in.They excite and they overwhelm; they inspire and they disappoint. Sometimes I don't know whether to support them, or squash them, because of the longing and fear they create. So I wrestle with them--alternately holding and hurdling them away.

One of these dreams of course is my 50 Day hike on the Appalachian Trail when I turn 50. This particular dream fits well into my realist world. I simply plan it, buy the shit I need, and then do it. So I can check box #1 and #2 (ticket to New York purchased for August; no turning back!) and now I can only obsess and worry over #3 until I either fail or succeed. But my other dreams are far more complicated.

This made me laugh

And this too! There are some creative people on the trail!

To become a writer...a real writer...that's what I would call a ridiculous dream. My realistic, pessimistic brain can only scoff at it. But I keep writing anyway, because I enjoy it. And so it is also with hiking--even more so. I do it not so much to prepare to fulfill some dream or ambition, but because there is fulfillment in doing it in and of itself. Wouldn't it be nice to live all of life that way? "Good luck with that when there are bills to pay!!!"...oh my pessimist brain! It will always be a struggle.

These drinks aren't free, people!!

So here I am writing about my first quick backpack of 2018, with less than 2 months before I start "the biggie". With all that previous talk about hiking for the fun of it, I'd be lying if I didn't admit to how discouraging it was to have an easy 10 miles in 2 days kick my ass that hard. I know I'm just starting the season, but it doesn't seem like I should hurt this bad. But I have time to get in shape, right? There is this thing called a gym. I mean, it's not like I'm against doing the un-enjoyable when it's necessary...I'm just not very good at it. 

This quick trip to Lizard Lake was completely unexpected. I thought my first backpack this year would have to wait until my Stehekin trip planned for next month, but then I remembered Memorial day. Even though I knew I couldn't do Sunday/Monday, I figured I could do Monday/Tuesday if the drive was close enough to pack up early and head straight to work Tuesday morning.Thankfully I know Heather is always game for this last minute stuff I throw at her. The only thing she asked was that we bring her dog for his very first backpack--of course I said yes! I had Lexi strong on my mind, as this was the same hike I took her on for her one and only overnight last December. I sure miss her.

Dogs are cute and wonderful and all, but they can also be hella disgusting. After working hard at keeping Jax from chowing down on the constant supply of road apples left by the horses, as soon as Heather let him off leash at camp, he went straight down to the lake's edge to feast on the pile of horseshit marinating in the water there. Heather was on him quick; scolding him that "nobody likes a poop eater!" That is truth right there! And you better believe we were using our water filters that night. Nobody wants to be drinking essence of horse crap either.

Hey guys...there's a smorgasbord down here!!!

Sometimes you can't help loving a poop eater

We set our alarms for 5 a.m. because supposedly as long as we hit the trail by 6, I would make it to work on time. I picked this trail because of my previous experience last year, and I believed we should be able to cruise out of there pretty fast. Not only did I underestimate the state of my out-of-shape-ness, I overestimated the significance of the Max's "shortcut" Trail, because it was actually longer than if we had just gone back the way we came.

Only a short cut if you are coming from the other direction

I jumped out of Heather's car and ran into work about a half hour late looking and smelling very nasty for just one night on the trail, but it was all good. Even though cooking for preschoolers is not exactly my dream job, it's a place that has my back (thank God for Cheerios!) and it also pays the bills. (Well, a couple of them anyway.) I know that if I ever wanted to achieve my dream of making it as a writer, I would need enough faith to believe it possible, and then pursue it...and that takes work. I don't know if I have that faith. But I can continue to dream, because dreaming is free. 

P.S. More info on this hike can be found on my "A Lily, a Lizard, and a Lexi" post. 

Miss you girl!!!

What is Wrong With Us?

Hiking addiction can alter your decision making abilities...like the one that tells you, "stay warm and dry and avoid sleeping outside in the rain if possible." That's how I know my friend Leigh is also a true addict. Laying in the tent and listening to what sounded like someone hosing it down with a sprayer on full blast, she turned to me and said, "I'm sure glad you're crazy enough to want to do this with me." Of course, the feeling was mutual. But let me start at the beginning.

Leigh has gone with me for all or part of my big trips for 3 years running, so to have to miss it this year because of her very busy summer was a big fat bummer. In fact, Leigh hardly got any hiking in at all, and so she was in somewhat of a desperate state when September rolled around. She had one weekend free during the whole month, and was busy planning and preparing and looking for "suckers" to go along on an extended backpack. As much as I wished I could, I had a prior commitment; but she was full steam ahead anyway with a whole crew. I knew I couldn't be jealous, because I had got a lot of hiking in...but it's true I hate missing out.

Then the weather went from decent, to not so good, to kind of bad, to hell no. And one by one, Leigh's crew had their normal, fully functioning decision making abilities kick in to say they were out. Meanwhile, my dysfunctional brain was furiously figuring out how to make it happen, because my plans had changed and therefore had opened up a small window of opportunity.   

Poor Leigh had to completely abandon her aim of 4 glorious days on the PCT, and settle for 2 nights off the I-90 corridor. But beggars can't be choosers, right? Leigh was out of options, so it was me or nothing...and I had to work around my need to be in Bellevue by 2 pm on Sunday. Otherwise I would NEVER pick a hike off of I-90 on a weekend, because that's insanity. 

Unless it's pouring rain! What a blessing the horrible forecast turned out to be! There were still people around, don't get me wrong (we are not the only hiking addicts out there, after all) but not the hordes you would expect on a typical weekend. And we were actually completely alone at both camps! That's a FRIDAY and a SATURDAY night...miraculous!!!

How come nobody else is here? Doesn't this look FUN? ;)

Because we did need to have two cars, we decided to take advantage of it and park one at Denny Creek (where we would come out) and one at our Pratt Lake entry point. We thought we were taking it easy on this trip with low miles; but I have to admit as much as I was expecting it to be a piece of cake, most of those miles felt more like a chunk of gristle.

Dry and happy at Pratt

Soaked and done at Denny Creek

So, a couple warnings to anyone who is researching this area: the "mile" between the Pratt Lake trail and the Island Lake trail feels more like three. (So much so, that I'm convinced the map is wrong--seriously.) Also, the supposed 3 miles from the Kaleetan trail turn off to Melakwa Lake has got to be closer to 4...especially when you're drenched and freezing! ;) (Okay, the map may be correct here, but it's better to adjust your expectations anyway.)

It's a long ass way to Island Lake!

Seriously, why would you not want to do this?

And speaking of maps, I bought a $12 one (Green Trails 207S) even though I didn't think we'd need it (being it's such a popular area with plenty of signage) but the ONE spot where a sign is really needed...nothing. We would have ended up at Tuscohatchie Lake had we not decided last second to go ahead and dig the map out. So thank you hiking lesson #1, you have served me well! 

Here you go...save yourself $12! ;)

Keep left at the fork at Lower Tuscohatchie
if you want to end up at Melakwa! This bridge
does not just lead to campsites like I thought it would.

Once at Melakwa Lake, we pitched our tent in the "day use only" area, and I don't care who knows it. It was MISERABLE, and we just couldn't bring ourselves to go searching for the legal camp spots. We could not get that tent up fast enough, and it took a good half hour of being cocooned in our bags with every last one of our hand warmers stuck to feet and shoved into underwear before we felt like maybe we wouldn't get hypothermia. 

What sign?

Wet, wet, wet, wet

At one point in the night, both Leigh and I smelled a definite sewer smell. I couldn't blame her for asking if it was me, but for once I had nothing to do with it. Because of the relentless rain, and the sign for the backwoods toilet that might be closer than we thought, we both wondered if the saturated ground had given way and caused some sort of collapse. We kidded around about having a wave a crap come washing down the hill on us...but I think both of us were actually kind of worried about it. The smell dissipated, and so we went on playing cards and eventually forgot about it. But then a little later, there it was again! Where is it coming from? Then Leigh said, "Wait a second", and gave a big whiff into her tightly sealed sleeping bag..."Oh sorry, I guess it was me." OMG, we laughed so hard!!! Damn those dehydrated meals, they seriously do a number on you! After we finally settled down was when Leigh told me she was glad I came. And the truth is, even with the harder than expected miles, and worse than anticipated weather, and gas that could melt your eyebrows off, both of us knew we'd do it all over again...what is wrong with us?!?

Do you smell that?

P.S. Leigh gave me permission to tell that story, in case you start thinking I'm the worst friend ever. Reluctant permission...but nevertheless, I did get the go ahead. :) 

Denny Creek's "slide rock"...not so fun
without sun

High Pass Madness

"Until sanity and justice prevail, either grit your teeth and walk those last 2 miles, or see how sporty your car is."

This is how Ira Spring and Harvey Manning describe getting to hike #4 in my well worn book "100 Classic Hikes in Washington". Although I mostly get my hiking info off the internet these days, when I first started almost a decade ago, this book was to me like what the Sears catalog used to be for a kid during Christmastime. Looking at all the pictures with yearning...circling and starring and making your list of wants...there's nothing quite like actual text you can hold with your hands to bear such dreaming.

And "Twin Lake/Winchester Mountain" has been in my dreams and on my list for a very long time. I was saving it for when I had cajoled someone to go with me who didn't want to hike far, since with a "sporty" car you can literally drive all the way to your campsite.

But now that I have a Monday through Friday job, finding a hike I could get to before dark on Friday so I could have a quickie backpack had become my priority. So Heather and I (who I asked, not because I had to cajole her into any hiking, but because I knew she'd be ready to split, even with such last minute notice) set off late afternoon to test my SUV on a beautiful September weekend.

The Twin Lakes are found on the same forest road as the hugely popular Yellow Aster Butte trail. According to my book, the treacherous 2 road miles beyond the Yellow Aster parking are not owned or maintained by the Forest Service, but only exist because of an ancient mining claim; and are therefore minimally maintained by prospectors. The book authors strongly believed these miles should be given back to nature, and highly recommended leaving your car at Yellow Aster and hiking to Twin Lakes. Of course I wasn't going to do that because we were in a hurry; but I assumed that meant when we finally did get there, we would not find an enormous parking lot with room for 40 or more cars.

After setting camp and exploring a little;
this seems to be an actual forest road, not available
to the public. It's past where you come in, but
 where is starts...nobody knows ;)

I did expect plenty of people--it was a weekend after all, and a popular hike. But the sheer volume of cars (of all kinds...many that now had flat tires) was kind of shocking. I'm not completely clear on what "justice" Ira and Harvey were talking about, but it does appear that sanity has no intention of prevailing any time soon.

I'm done

My car did not even make it to the parking lot though. It may be sporty, but I called it quits after a mile. We figured we could hike that last mile before it got dark; and we were thankful we did, because having our backpacks on helped us score the last spot available, as it was a little more difficult to get to than the others. (It seemed everyone else there was truly car camping--bringing barbecues and the whole nine yards. Why not? Some of the sites had picnic tables after all!) It wasn't exactly what you'd call a wilderness experience, but we enjoyed ourselves none the less. It was especially fun being perched slightly above it all, where we could observe all the madness.

Cheers to crazy!

Although my book had described the Winchester Mountain hike as the one to do here, come Saturday morning we both decided the other, less altitude gaining option of High Pass was preferable. Not that either of us had hangovers, mind you...but it had been a long night. (People kept coming in, even well after dark. Maybe they slept in their cars?) I'll confess I did indulge in some Fireball, and ended up somehow putting on my underwear backwards before bed (not inside out, but backwards! Takes some talent...Heather is still teasing me about it!) but we both still felt ready to put in some miles-we just preferred them to be less steep. (Turns out High Pass makes up for it at the end, but it is well worth the push!)

A little more than 3 miles of not too difficult hiking and you'll come to what feels like a good place to end, but don't be fooled. Keep going up and up (yes, this part is harder...I would not want to have a big pack on!) until you cannot go any further. What a view! Thankfully Heather had a phone with a good pano option, because this is the place to use it. I know I have to replace my geriatric phone soon (how old is 8 in phone years? At least 80, right?!) but I'm hoping it will die a natural death, so my incredibly cheap self will feel justified. 

Not there yet...

Almost there...

Arrived!

Not much else to tell, except that when driving down, we passed what had to be at least 100 cars lined up on both sides of the road for a good half mile before and after the Yellow Aster Butte trailhead. I've never seen anything like it. We both pondered how on earth some of the monster trucks parked up at Twin Lakes were going to squeeze through the tiny gap left by some folks with wide cars and poor parking skills. Hey...maybe those two road miles Ira and Harvey so desperately wanted to be "put to bed" could instead be converted into parking? Don't roll over in your graves guys, I'm only kidding!!

Cars for dayzzzz...oh how I miss
hiking on the weekdays!