Wallace Falls Revisited

I don't like the idea of re-doing a hike. It's sort of like re-reading a book...why? There are too many different books to read--and likewise, too many new sights to see! But this last Friday I made an exception. It's been 10 years since I did Wallace Falls; so I knew I could count on my failing memory to make it a new experience. Plus, spring is the best time to witness the fall's real power. 

The first time we visited Wallace Falls, I was testing out the idea of car camping. As a family, we love camping...but NEVER on this side of the mountains. (that would be the wet, cold side) But it was a hot summer weekend, so I thought we should give it a shot; I mean, how bad could it be?

My memory may be fading...but I do remember ending up in the car sometime in the middle of the night because I was so flipping cold. Needless to say, we went back to our week long camping excursions in Eastern Washington.

Cute bridge! Hooray!

Even so, that one night camping trip still held some dear memories for me. Re-hiking it would hopefully bring them back--not just to me, but possibly my daughter as well, who decided to come with me.

When we arrived, I was excited to try to find our campsite to spark the ol' memories. Instead I found five cabins. There are still two regular campsites remaining, but I knew they weren't "our" campsite because they were pretty small. Ours was big enough to share with a cute couple, their little girl, and a puppy. Meeting them, and being able to offer our campsite so their plans weren't ruined was the best part of that night. (The campsites are first come first served, just like the campgrounds on Icicle Creek. That can be risky business, as I explained in my "Spontaneity is the Essence of Pleasure" post last July. But the new cabins can be reserved, making life a little less risky.)

Pictures from our first trip--hard to believe we ever lived without digital cameras!

Kramer caught a fish and Oscar caught a frog...good times!

I was a little bummed the big campsite was gone, but the cabins are super cute. If they had they been there 10 years ago, I'm sure my perspective of car camping would have been totally different. 

Amber's philosophical look...she should be on top model 

She gets her modeling skills from her mother

When it came time to start hiking, my memory didn't serve me well at all. I thought I knew what I was doing, so I really didn't bother looking at the map. When we got to the "Woody Trail" we passed it on by...we need to go up, not down after all! We were chatting away, so I didn't think much about the fact that this was the most boring trail I had ever been on. We passed an older couple on their way down and asked if they enjoyed the falls. Boy, did we get an earful! "We couldn't even find the falls! We couldn't even hear the river! Look at my shoes, can you believe he wouldn't even let me go back to the car to change them?! I'm going to write about this on my blog, you better believe that!"

So now we understood that: 1) Everyone on the planet has a blog, and 2) We went the wrong way.  Thankfully, we decided to go a little further and found a sign with a map which told us there was a connecting trail that would lead us down to the Woody Trail. 

The connecting trail, our saving grace

Once we were on the correct trail, I found it even more beautiful than I remembered. (we could have kept going and eventually made it to the falls, but that way really is yawnsville) I was so proud of Amber, who didn't seem to mind the uphill climb at all. She was even willing to go all the way to the very top...something none of the kids were willing to do the first time around. 

It took us 3 hours to get to the upper falls, and only one to get back to the parking lot. Obviously, the first trail we took is no short cut, that's for sure. And so I'll end with hiking lesson #30: don't rely on your memory (especially if your over 40), but take the time to actually look at the maps. That is, unless you want to write a blog about how miserable your hiking experience was (and I know you all have blogs!) in which case, be sure not to wear your hiking shoes as well.

Don't miss the "little falls"--just barely into the Woody trail

Don't miss the "butt tree" either!

The Anti-Party at Lena Lake

Trying to figure out an April backpacking trip in Washington state is not easy. You can look through every guide book (which I think I did) but you're going to find that your options are few. (Unless your into snow, and have the skills and equipment to make it happen...which I have neither.) A better idea is going to the Washington Trail Association page and using the "advanced" options in your search for trip reports. You can narrow it down to the month of April, overnight instead of day hike, un-click snowshoe, and bingo! You have your list of what the hot ticket in April is.

I was happy to find Lena Lake, which coincidentally is also in my "100 Classic Hikes" book. I had over-looked it because it included "Upper" Lena Lake. (Most definitely not an April hike.) The trip reports had many warnings about Lower Lena being party central...but the truth is, I love a good party. I had yet to be part of any kind of social nighttime interaction on a backpacking trip; to date only total solitude with the exception of the father/son pair at Boundary Camp on Hannegan...and they were not exactly what you would call party animals (unless whittling is your thing).

My friend Debbie and I have been amassing our own gear all winter. It's been so nice to have friends who let us borrow everything--but enough is enough. It was time to be legit, and so every REI coupon that came our way was put to good use. Between the two of us, we had everything we needed. I watched anxiously for any sort of break in the unending April rain until at last a 20% forecast. Good enough! We were off like kids after Christmas morning, impatiently eager to play with our new toys.

We didn't get on the trail until 4:00 pm. It took a lot longer than I expected to fiddle with our never before used backpacks and trekking poles and such. The 20% rain forecast was right over our heads of course, so we also had to get out our day before purchases of backpack rain covers.

Do I look legit?

As soon as we were finally all set up, the sun came out; and so 10 minutes into the hike we were both boiling hot. Is there anything more annoying than stopping to take stuff off that you just put on--when all you want is, for heaven's sake, to just get going! No, there isn't; and so we kept going...for another 10 minutes...and then it was, "screw it, we have to stop and take this crap off, or we are going to die!"

This is not a difficult hike, but it is steady uphill. I'm glad I read the trip reports that said it takes 2 hours to get to the lake. It's hard to believe it takes 2 hours to go a piddly two and a half miles, but it does. I thought I had read that the best sites were the farthest around the lake, and so we ventured over the slightly scary bridge to find them. We didn't. On the way back my worn out legs just couldn't do the "how low can you go" limbo under a blow-down; therefore I ended up on my back like an over-turned turtle.

Hang on, Debbie!

It wouldn't be so bad looking at it
if they were at least functioning

We finally settled on a nice spot by the bathrooms. Yes, looking at this structure took away from the "wilderness" feel, but otherwise it had nice access to the lake, and great seating around the fire pit. As predicted, there were plenty signs of partying...but we had missed it. We had the whole place to ourselves, like usual. I wasn't about to complain; we can make our own party! (Party AND clean up--I mean, come on people, you really don't need to leave your trash all over the place) Only thing is, when the temperature goes below freezing, the only party you're interested in is getting in your sleeping bag and praying you don't get hypothermia. (No joke...the dampness made it colder than cold...we couldn't even get warm by the fire.)

In the morning everything was so wet and frozen that even a half tube of fire starter couldn't revive any sort of flames; so we gave up and just drank our hot chocolate by the water where the sun was. Neither of us felt much like packing up our icy gear, so we sat there a long time just soaking up the rays and trying to thaw out.

Slowly packing up--the sun finally hitting the campsite

I had really hoped to explore further on a little towards the upper lake, and it was an absolutely beautiful day for it; but the frigid night had really taken a toll on us. We really could barely muster enough energy to get our butts out of there. Oh well, this was just our season warmer-upper after all. There will be plenty of time for us to get our hiking party animal on. ;)

Party animal Debbie is on the prowl!

I do love a lot of cute bridges!

P.S. Hiking lessons: #28--an overnight in April requires a 2 duro log minimum. #29--eat your dehydrated food as soon as it's ready. If you forget and let it sit too long while it's "cooking", it will taste like absolute crap. I know the stuff usually doesn't taste that great to begin with, but it is SERIOUSLY bad if you let it sit...
like you would rather die of starvation than eat it bad. 

Does it look like we got very little sleep
 and ate only crappy camp food?
Ummm, that would be a yes. 

Little Mountain, the Whole Enchilada

                                           

I've hiked on Little Mountain more times than I can count. It's my stomping grounds; almost literally in my backyard. So of course I never take a camera, or think about writing about it--it's too much of a snore. But this last Saturday when we had temperatures reaching almost 70 degrees (unheard of in March...heck, it can be a rare thing in June around here!) and no hope of driving to somewhere exciting, (a house full of people coming the next day for Easter...lots of cooking and cleaning and yard work to be done...ugh) it was time to turn Little Mountain into something a little more inspiring, being it was my only option. So I decided it was the day to do what I've been meaning to do for years--up and over.

Rick called the night before, antsy to go anywhere because of the weather being so good and the skiing conditions not so good. (every Washingtonian had being outdoors on the brain, I'm quite sure) Melissa's chore list was even longer than mine, so she opted out. Ken was game though, and so were our girls; (with fully charged ipods at the ready) and thus the Little Mountain expedition was in full motion.

Little Mountain has evolved tremendously in the decade plus that I've lived beneath it. The Mount Vernon Trail Builders have done a TON of work making the trails top notch. I had every intention of showing up on the Saturdays that they have work parties...I managed to show up once. I discovered what it was like to hike with a wheelbarrow of crushed rock; and I'll confess, it really kicked my butt. Not to discourage anyone from helping out with the Trail Builders...but if you do, just remember the emphasis is on "work", and not "party".

Thankfully, there are some real hard workers out there that can handle their wheelbarrows, and they have completed the trails so that you can go all the way from one side of the hill to the other. We left our car at the trailhead on Little Mountain Road, and drove Rick's car over to East Hickox. On the map it shows that there is parking--but don't expect anything like there is at the east trailhead. On Hickox there is just a little sign that shows the start of the trail, and it is super easy to miss. (We drove by it twice)

I don't think we were on the trail more than 15 minutes before the girls were out of sight. It's really not fair to have your legs as 75% of your body; not to mention how tiny of a torso it has to carry. They looked like little gazelles bounding though the forest...oh, to be young again. (Actually, you couldn't pay me enough to go back to middle school--for real.)

We took a nice break at the top to enjoy the lookouts and have a snack. Of course, the girl's break was much longer, considering they got there about 20 minutes before we did. (punks ;)) Ken had fun freaking them out by pointing out the abandoned hang gliding launch, and recalling the story of his friend who forgot to hook in. (more about that on the Sauk Mountain post)

Too bad this warning isn't on the launch at Sauk

To get down we took Sidewinder, (without the winding--not necessary without a bike) to Service Road, to Up Only (except we went down), to Laz-E-Boy, to the new Cairn and Nature Trails, and finally to our car and our not-so-patiently waiting tweens who ran the whole way down. (Is there an end to their energy? Oh yes, when you tell them to clean their room ;)) From there it was just a short drive back home, where my dirty house and messy yard awaited. But I was so thankful to have enjoyed a whole morning of sun and adventure on my faithful, always present, near and dear, Little Mountain.

Romance on San Juan Island

Another year of life and marriage has flown by. (Time goes faster the older you get...if you're over 30, you're nodding your head in agreement.) Last year, in honor of our 25 years of marriage, I wrote a post called "25 Dates, 255 Apologies, and 5 Romantic Trips in Year 25"; (trying to be clever and play off my blog title) and even though I was being tongue-in-cheek, the 5 romantic trips actually sounded like a good idea. (Duh!) I'm happy to say this trip to Roche Harbor to celebrate our 26th a little early makes our 6th getaway since Miami. (We are such over achievers! I'm not sure if they would all qualify as "trips"- but I'm always happy just to have a night away from our house filled with tween/teen/and adult children.)

Beautiful Roche Harbor

My husband is a very out-doorsy sort of person; much more than me, actually. We've gone on a couple hikes together, and there's a part of me that wishes he wanted to hike more often with me. I have to admit though, there's also a part of me that's glad he doesn't. I like having a hobby that is sort of "mine." I'm really thankful that Ken gets this; in fact, he encourages it. Hiking has given me a sort of confidence I never had before; and I know he sees and appreciates that. Although, it doesn't mean (as I just noted) that he's unwilling to go with me every now and then.

A great way to start the day

I ended last year's marriage post by saying I would transform a hike into a "date" by bringing a bottle of wine and picnic lunch. It took me the whole year, but on this trip I got that accomplished as well. (Was it our "25th" date? I doubt it.) There's not a whole lot of good hiking on San Juan Island, and the best trail (Mount Finlayson) I had already done a few years back with my youngest, Summer. (This was before I started blogging. I'll just say it was yet another experience to confirm that she can be a real pain in the ass to hike with ;)) This meant my best option was the trails at English Camp; and so Bell Point and Mount Young it was.

There is some very interesting history on San Juan Island. Either I never paid attention in school, or the 'pig war' was something that never came up in history class; which is hard to believe considering it happened in our own backyard. Let's see how concisely I can summarize for those of you who didn't pay attention in school either: "Oregon Country" (more than just Oregon--much of Washington and extending into Canada as well) was jointly occupied by both the US and Great Britain until 1846, when a treaty was signed to declare the 49th parallel as the border line. The problem was the treaty verbiage was not specific enough to clarify who owned San Jan Island. When an American farmer killed a pig that wandered onto "his" land, and it turned out the pig belonged to the British owned company Hudson Bay, then all hell broke loose. Troops were sent in from both countries and camps were formed and stayed formed for the next 12 years, prepared to kick some butt if need be. Thankfully though, war never did break out, and the dispute was finally settled when a three man arbitration commission from Germany ruled in favor of the U.S. And so this "war" ended with only one casualty...the poor pig. (Hopefully somebody at least got some good bacon out of it.)

Even when preparing for war, the English need their gardens

The view from where the officer's quarters were

Needless to say, visiting English camp turned out to be much more than just hiking. (Look how much I learned!) Neither hike is very long or difficult, but it took us awhile because I really did read every single informative sign. (History can be romantic--honestly!) 

The blockhouse. Used for defense with guns on top, and as a jail on the bottom.
Told you I read the signs!

We did the Bell Point Loop first, and halfway through parked ourselves in the sand for our picnic. I forgot to bring something to lay on the ground, so I thought we could use the emergency "blanket." (Bad idea... emergency tin foil would be a better name!) Oh well, at least I remembered hiking essential #11 to open the bottle.

Can you believe this is a wine opener?

I wish we would have done Mount Young first, because the picnic spot options on top were far better. But considering I thought this whole day was going to be a rained out bust, I was just thankful for the sun and fabulous views. A tip for those who do this hike: when you get to the "lookout" spot, just keep following the path to the left. The map doesn't show a trail, but it leads you to the top, and it's much more scenic.

A perfect picnic spot. Dang it.

The trail to the left.

The top...and more informative signage!

A few recommendations for anyone planning a trip to San Juan Island:
--Doughnuts at Lime Kiln Cafe
--Pig War martini at McMillin's Dining Room
--Free pool tables at Herb's Tavern
--Wine tasting in town at San Juan Vineyard's Piano and Wine

And if you miss your ferry, just take the wine you bought at the tasting room and head up to end of West Street. Sit yourself down on one of the nice park benches, enjoy the amazing view of Friday Harbor, and make a toast to "island time". And while your at it, why not throw in a "cheers" to the pig war; a lesson that every once in awhile arguments can be settled peacefully. We can all drink to that.

A late (but happy) ride home

Roche Harbor on Dwellable