Summer's First Backpacking Trip

The first backpacking trip for my daughter, not of the season--just to clarify. ;) I named her years before she was even conceived when I saw someone's name tag at a grocery store (I had never even heard the name Summer before) and thought, "if we ever have another kid, I want it to be a girl, and that will be her name." I hesitated though, when I actually got pregnant again. Our last name sounds like a vegetable, and Summer + vegetable last name= kids teasing. But I finally decided I just had to name her Summer; because it felt like destiny. 

Thankfully they didn't catch a fish with their homemade pole,
because we promised to eat it if they did!

I think I was so captivated by that name because who doesn't love summer? It's bright, happy, and fun; all the things I wanted my little girl to be. And she has lived up to her name, in spades. She is a true nature's child, which I love; except that she hates to wear shoes and takes them off whenever she gets the chance. (Losing them everywhere...I need to buy flip flops by the dozen.) 

Are you going to get in, or what?

This is how it's done, girls!

And my little Summer is no stranger to camping; we started taking her when she was just 10 months old. The thing is, although she loves to be outdoors, she would rather be doing something EXCITING (like wake-boarding with her Dad) and hiking did not fit the bill.

We love froggies, too

But recently she has been finally warming up to hiking, (even after our last hike when I ended up screaming at her http://kellbell-whywouldanyonereadthis.blogspot.com/2013/06/boulder-river-rampage.html) and actually asked me if she could go on a backpacking trip with me. Hooray!--but where to go?

Someone got a hold of my camera

I wanted it to be amazing, of course, so she would fall in love and want to come all the time...but it couldn't be too hard, especially because she was bringing her friend who described herself as "not very active". Kids need a lake to swim in, and a fire pit to make smores. I finally decided that Barclay Lake was the perfect fit. 

loving our own little beach

Smores anyone? They are just a little crispy

Now that it is all said and done, I can say I don't think there could be a more perfect fit for a beginner than this hike; with one condition...go on a weekday. (which we did, and had the whole place to ourselves--like always) The girls plopped themselves down at the first campsite we came to and declared it the best. (after just 2 miles of hiking; you don't get easier than that) I usually have to scope all of the sites out before choosing, but this was their gig, so I didn't argue. (and wouldn't you know, they were right) 

The girls decided to put their tent in a secluded spot
over to the side. So grown up.

Trying to make pancakes on my mini stove
...it sort of worked

I was a little bummed the weather never cleared that first day, as promised by the forecasters. But the next morning as the sun started breaking through, and the hordes started showing up, I realized just how lucky we were. And this was a Thursday morning...so I'm sure the weekends are complete madness.

The calm of foggy...

the chaos of sunny

When we were almost packed up, a huge group of teens showed up and asked if they could have our site. Debbie informed me later that it was a nature camp for kids who wouldn't normally be able to do that kind of stuff, and all the gear had been donated. Debbie had all this information because of course she had completely packed up hours earlier and was therefore able to gab; while I, on the other hand, was still frantically shoving everything in whatever pack it would fit into. Do you think she will ever rub off on me? (Unlikely)

Can you guess which pack is Debbie's?

A good friend wants to come even when
your bringing tweens. So, I love her even
with her OCD. ;)

Finally, just as we were leaving, Summer got to see just how exciting hiking could be when a base jumper landed on our beach. (turns out Mount Baring is one of the most popular places to do this--who knew?) 

A surprise guest

Unfortunately, we didn't get to see him land, but after packing up his gear he did plant himself by our fire pit and chat with us for a little while. This might have also been unfortunate, because after talking to him, Summer decided that clamoring up a mountain and then jumping off the top was just her kind of hiking! She may have the fearlessness of her father, but maybe she has his luck as well. One can only hope so. (to read about Ken's "luck", go to:
http://kellbell-whywouldanyonereadthis.blogspot.com/2013/07/the-legend-of-mount-erie.html)

Mount Baring--want to jump?
I know someone who would go with you.

I LOVE SUMMER...
the season, and especially the girl

The Legend of Mount Erie

Ken Beane. Yes...my husband is the legend of Mount Erie. (Well, in my opinion anyway!) I have good reason to think this though; he was bad ass in his day and established some of the hardest rock climbing routes there. His picture is even on the cover of the Mount Erie climbing guide (looking extremely hot, I might add) published in 2005 and currently out of print, though a new version is due to come out soon.

There is one climbing story in particular that is 'legendary' in nature, because it is simply quite unbelievable. It was so long ago--before we had kids, (another lifetime it seems) and after that much time you begin to wonder if your facts have been embellished. I dug out the old book and thumbed through it and found a little blurb; it cited the same story. To further support this impossible tale are bolts that climbers drill into the rock to anchor their gear into for safety; and when they are drilled in, they there to stay--so you just can't fudge distances. And so, the fact is my husband fell 60 feet to the ground; and yes, it is still hard to believe.

For those of you who know nothing of rock climbing; I'm sorry, but I don't feel like doing much explaining about how it is done. I will say that when you are the first one to make it up a certain section of the rock, you get to name it. (thus "establishing" it) Here is the "blurb" from the guide book about how Ken's route got named Ground Zero:

Ken was about 60 feet up attempting to clip the 4th bolt when he fell. Fortunately, Ken was okay although badly shaken. His belayer had well-burnt hands and was very apologetic. 

Slightly undersold, wouldn't you say? Sixty fu*#ing feet!?! I hate to swear (ok, sometimes I like it) but hello...who falls 60 feet to the ground and is just "badly shaken"? And don't you love that the guy who dropped my husband to what should have been certain death was "very apologetic"? No shit. Ken just met him that day, and figured he could at least hold the rope; I mean, that part is not all that complicated. There is just one thing you have to be sure to do--have the rope in the right position when someone takes a fall. I'm guessing he wanted to impress Ken by being able to take in some of the slack, which would have lessened the fall had it worked. (Climbers always fall--just not to the ground, usually.) But it didn't work, and once you have the rope out of position when the full weight of the person falling is on it, there's nothing you can do. (hence the badly burned hands) We contribute the phenomenon that Ken was not broken to bits to the fact that he completely trusted his belayer to stop him; and therefore was totally relaxed when he hit the ground. Although it helps to explain it a little, I will still call it a miracle.

See that rock face in the distance?
Ken put the most difficult route going up that thing.

 

 Sometimes I get very contemplative about things, and of course this event is one of those things that really gets my wheels turning. I look at our beautiful kids, and our amazing 26 years together; and I realize these things could not have been--actually should not have been. Last weekend I needed to go back there and see the spot where my husband should have died, and give thanks that he didn't.

This is a lot easier said than done. Ken tried to show me in the guide book how to get to the infamous route, and when I got to the start of the trail (it begins on a real trail, but you quickly need to veer off) I found a posted hand drawn map of the climbing trails and took a picture to hopefully help me; but all to no avail.

Climbers are not hikers. Climbers don't give a crap about making a decent trail--they just want to get climbing. Therefore, climbing trails are not only crazy steep, (what's a switchback?) they are usually undefined --basically a brushy mess.

The map that didn't help me at all

I missed this trail the first time around--can you blame me?

Where the heck is the trail?

I won't bore you with how I went up and down and around looking for the right spot, but I will say I was EXHAUSTED by the time I got to where I thought "Ground Zero" was located. After showing Ken my pictures, he let me know I was just 70ish feet to the left of it. "But Ken, there was no trail going that direction"...oops, I forgot to consider it's a climbers trail; a tiny ledge barely carved into the side of the cliff that no sane person would walk on. No wonder I'm not a climber.

Can you see the climbers?

Before I end this, I need to give acclamation to Dallas Kloke, the author of the previously mentioned guide book and who many would acknowledge as the true legend of Mount Erie; which he was. He established routes on Mount Erie years before Ken was even born. And he climbed his whole life, until that fateful day when he dislodged a block of rock just 10 feet from the summit of "The Pleiades" and fell 300 feet to his death. Life and death, miracles and the absence of miracles, the beauty and the horror of this world with all it's mystery and wonder...I could never explain it. But I will always try my best to embrace it anyway, with thanks.

Desolation Decimation

(continued from Ross Lake East Bank Trail Part Two)
Desolation Peak is number 14 in my "100 Classic Hikes of Washington" book, so I was really excited to do it. It's claim to fame is the writer and poet, Jack Kerouac, who spent 63 days at the lookout on top in the summer of 1956. I've never read any of his stuff, but it seemed appropriate to bring one of his works along to read while I spent the night there. So I went to the library, and found a couple books that looked to weigh about 5 pounds each. So much for that idea.

Lightning Creek's dock is not so much fun in June

I did find another book in the same section that was the perfect size called "The Places That Scare You". Facing down fears is a lot of what backpacking is for me; so I grabbed it, knowing I could use all the help I could get.

Living on the edge

Therefore, as I sat in my tent that Thursday morning listening to the rain and deciding what to do, I tried to be really honest with myself and my fears. I wanted to prove I could do this, I knew that. I didn't want to come back not having accomplished what I set out to do either. Having people think I wimped out was what I really feared, and avoiding that would have been what drove me up that mountain--and I didn't like that. Bragging rights were the ONLY motivation for me, because I knew hauling that heavy bag up there to look at nothing else but clouds would have just crushed my spirit. It was hard, but I finally gave myself permission to not do it.

Good times in my tent...will these socks ever dry?

I would just stick it out where I was for another night, and then meet my friends at Devil's Junction the next night as planned. But laying there, doing absolutely nothing but thinking (and knowing I had HOURS to do it)...well, it was awful. I started imagining really terrible things; like falling off that bridge on my way back and breaking both my legs. I knew it was ridiculous to be thinking that way--but I was in a dark place.

A spooky part of the trail. I walked extra fast here.

The book I brought along talked a lot about how much we long for comfort and security, but ironically our clinging on to those things often becomes our prison. This certainly rang true for me, as I lay there in my comfy sleeping bag not wanting to get wet, and yet feeling miserable at the same time. I needed to get out of there! The biggest problem was wondering if I could get out in time to stop my friends from coming in. I had waited so long to decide to wave the white flag, that I didn't have time to make it out before dark. (plus, 17ish miles in one day would have really killed me) I finally figured I could make it to Rainbow Point easily enough that night; and even though I didn't have a permit, I doubted it would be a problem on a crappy weekday. The next day I could high tail it out of there first thing in the morning and be able to get to Newhalem around noon. (where I knew there was phone reception)

Once I had this plan, I was like a machine. I packed up in record time and got to Rainbow Point lickity split. I credit this in part to the "You Go Girl" in my pocket. Can I just say this piece of "equipment" has changed my life. For anyone who doesn't know, it's a rubber "thing" that you use to pee. (for a girl, obviously...boys have their own thing) Hence, much time is saved because I no longer need to stop to pee. Of course, I stopped in the sense that I stopped walking...but no taking my pack off, no tromping off trail to find a hidden spot, no squatting down and wondering if a tick is going to find a nice little home...(YUCK! Ticks are my new phobia. I was devastated to recently find out we have them in Washington) I just face away from the trail and take a whiz like a man. Boys DO NOT UNDERSTAND how good they have it! But no more will I have to worry about getting caught with my pants down...and if you want to know why I'm so paranoid about that, read my "For Barefoot Jake" post.

My "special" pocket

I did take one little side trip before Rainbow Point. I needed to see what we would be missing at Devil's Junction, so I dropped my pack and ran down there. (glad I took the pack off--it's almost a half mile to get to the single camp site on the water) I saw from a distance that it was occupied, and I figured it would be nice of me to go tell them they could have it another night if they wanted. They were really thankful they didn't have to move to another camp, as they had everything all set up with their tarps and all. And I was thankful too, because there was a toilet with a door right there, and this time there was no avoiding squatting, if you know what I mean. So, that little excursion was a real win-win for everybody. 

Happily staying put

The view...maybe I can have my 46th party here

The next day was completely uneventful. Me and my little rubber friend cruised on out of there in plenty of time to stop the gang before they left. Debbie was so happy she didn't have to chance a night in the rain, that she promised me a party at her house--with cake and all. In the end, even though I didn't make it to Desolation Peak, I learned that in my being able to let go of my super duper birthday hike plan, I ultimately got everything I wanted. Maybe you can have your cake and eat it too. (stupidest saying ever...but it does sort of fit here, right?)

I did Roland Creek the right way the 2nd time.
I LOVE the Rei towel Rick gave me on my actual b-day.
I would have never got one myself,
but now I know I won't ever hike without it

All done, and now the sun comes out, of course.
But more importantly, how's my hair?

I even got special candles...I love you, Debbie!

Ross Lake East Bank Trail, Part Two

I was lucky enough to have made breakfast before it started raining. I was pretty proud of my skills with my new stove--I even fried an egg. But then the rain started, and it didn't stop until that night. My husband really encouraged me to take this trip in the rain, so I could practice "rain management"...though, at this point I was already getting an F, because I was starting the day with wet shoes.

One thing I discovered is how thankful I was I bought a two person tent. I researched and researched tents, and then ended up buying one on a whim because it was on sale. (I just can't help myself) It wasn't the lightest one available, but I'm glad I went for more room. It was great to pack up everything while I was in the tent staying dry--that's what you call good rain management! The last thing to do was take off my camp shoes, and put on my nasty wet shoes. Here's a tip: before packing your camp shoes (which I HIGHLY recommend taking at least simple flip flops--you'll be glad you did) scrape the bottoms on a tree to clean any gunck off. It works really well.

I actually didn't mind hiking in the rain at all; this is a good trail for it. It was half way through the day before I came across my first hikers; a very cute father and daughter pair. He commented on how huge my backpack was, which yes, made me feel like I was all that. Then, because I looked like such a professional hiker and all, they asked how I got across Roland Creek. Crap. 

He explained, "We found a tree to get across it upstream yesterday, but we don't think it will be safe today in the rain; did you find a better way?"
"Ummm...I just plowed through it because I'm a dumb ass." Ok, I didn't say that. I tried to explain that because I was staying the night there, I thought I could just walk through with my shoes on and they would dry overnight; but even the ten year old knew the only important information was that I left my shoes on.
"You didn't take your shoes off?!?"
"Nope. I wouldn't recommend that, though". And off I went, my superwoman hiker cover blown.

I often mention how much I love cute bridges, and this hike has plenty of them. But it also has a bridge from hell. I know this picture does not look like much, but your not seeing how high up it is. Probably not high enough to die if you fell...but high enough that you would be dearly sorry if you did. Not only was I terrified to cross it, I was terrified someone would come by and see me crossing it; because I moved like a 90 year old using her trekking poles like a walker. 

When I finally got to Lightning Creek Camp, I was greeting by a large group of young men. Well, I wasn't really greeted; they were all under their tarps playing cards, and they ignored me completely. I don't know what I expected, but it felt awkward. It was still raining pretty hard, so as soon as I could, I got into my tent and cocooned myself in my sleeping bag. It was depressing, I won't lie.

The rain finally let up a little, but nothing in me wanted to move. I really had to psyche myself up to get out of that tent. I decided I needed to go say hello to the boys. This was even harder than crossing that God awful log bridge; but I was so thankful I did it! I found out they were from all over the country, enrolled in a recovery program that involved all this outdoor stuff. The courage to face addiction is one I respect deeply, and watching this group of boys play, laugh, and work together was a really beautiful thing. I never heard them once complain about the rain...though I did hear them burp and fart quite a lot.

My neighbor's tarp city

The break in the rain lasted long enough to make dinner and a fire, which I was very grateful for. But I went to bed with the sound of rain, and woke up to it as well. Thursday morning--time to pack up my soaked shit and slog up the famous Desolation Peak--the trail with views to die for. (but not today; the view today would be white clouds, and nothing else) To say I was uninspired is a true understatment. Though, I had to consider I had a permit to stay the night at the one spot up there, and maybe the clouds would clear in the morning. What to do. 
For the end of the story, click here
http://kellbell-whywouldanyonereadthis.blogspot.com/2013/06/desolation-decimation.html

Determined to dry my socks and shoes--
it helped a little

East Bank Trail Ross Lake, Part One

Sorry for the boring title. I had the best title picked out; "5 Days and 45 Miles When I Turned 45"...but it wasn't to be. This year I'm supposed to be up to 4 nights; but I've realized that I'm not supposed to count my trips by nights--nobody does that. You count the days you hike--and fortunately that settles my dilemma about wanting my nights to correspond to my age. (As I explained in my "I'm Up to Three Nights" post) Now that I'm counting days, everything is in alignment; as my would be cute title demonstrates.

I wanted to do this hike as close to my birthday as possible--a sort of birthday present to myself; but there are still not a whole lot of good hikes available in June. (damn snow) After obsessively looking through my hiking books, I decided to try the Big Beaver/Little Beaver Loop. But I didn't get much positive feedback about that hike when I asked on the NWhikers website. Somebody suggested the East Bank Trail, and the fact that you access Desolation Peak that way really sold it to me. But there are SO many options, thanks to the availability of a taxi boat to take you to or pick you up at several places on the trail. I wanted to make the most of it--maybe I could do the best of both hikes? I had a whole five days to do it, after all.

Getting close to 4:00--I gotta get going!

My friend Debbie wanted to come, and because of the boat ride option, I thought it would be great fun to have our husbands meet us the last day--with birthday cake of course. I had an awesome plan for us to be picked up at Desolation Peak, then dropped off at Big Beaver, then husbands hike in--two cars made it all possible.

This was all such a perfect plan, until the weather forecast. I knew Debbie was not willing to do rain, and I didn't blame her. She's not preparing for a 50 day hike; she just wants to have an enjoyable experience. The forecast went from two days, then three, then four days of rain. Not what you would call enjoyable.

What a crazy flower, right?

But I am preparing for a 50 day hike--and I know I can't count on 50 days of sun. I needed to test out my gear and learn how it performed in the rain; and see how I performed in the rain as well. So I needed to revise my plan.

No, I'm not recovering from cancer.
This is my "tick hat" I sewed myself.

Because the last day and a half looked possibly decent, I still wanted my birthday party. So why not have everyone come meet me the last night, and then hike out with me?  Everyone just needed to hike the mile to the Ross Lake Dam on Friday, catch the boat to Devil's Junction (one site right on the water---time to party!!) then the whole day Saturday to enjoy the best part of the East bank trail back to my car where I could shuttle the crew back to the other car.

Oh, if only our best laid plans were so easily realized. Anyway...

I headed out on Tuesday, and when I stopped at the Wilderness Information Station in Marblemount at 3:00 to get my permit, the first thing the ranger said was, "Are you sure you're going to make it?" What the hell does he mean, am I going to make it? Everyone described this trail as a highway--flat and easy. It was only 6.5 miles to my first camp (or so I thought) and it stays light until at least 9:00 pm...why wouldn't I make it? Was I missing something?

He let me know that lots of people don't know what they are getting into, so he was just making sure...but that yes, I should make it just before dark. This was unsettling; I expected to get to camp at like 6:30. He let me know what camps I could make fires at, (all but Desolation) but of course I wouldn't be making one tonight, as I would be getting in so late. Again--what the hell? I did NOT want to be setting up camp in the dark, so I just decided I'd better hike fast, in case the ranger knew something I didn't. (remember hiking lesson #16 "The rangers know more than you"...yep.)

A froggy friend

Nature's art sculpture 

I wore my ipod this time, so I wouldn't be doing the "guess how many miles" game. I was making good time, and got to 6.5 miles at around 6:30, just like I thought...but there was no camp. Sometimes the information you look up just isn't completely accurate--why didn't I just ask the ranger how many miles it was? Because I didn't want to look like one of those people who didn't know what they were doing...stupid pride. What to do, but just keep going, and pray I got there before dark.

My first camping spot

There are lots of little creeks to cross, and even though my shoes got wet, they didn't get wet inside because I bought super-duper water proof shoes. I was feeling so confident about their water repelling capabilities, that when I got to a "big" creek, I decided to just run across. I was at 8 miles, so I figured I MUST be at Roland Creek, and my camp would be found as soon as I crossed. (at least I was right about that) I was really tired, and I didn't want to take the time to take off my boots...I could take them off as soon as I got to camp and let them dry overnight, right?

It doesn't look so bad, does it.

Yes; yes it is

This was my biggest lesson of the trip--shoes don't dry overnight. They might dry in a day--if it's not raining constantly. But super duper water repelling shoes don't repel water once they are soaking wet, idiot. So, lesson # 32  is a big one that I can't emphasize strongly enough: just take off your flippin' shoes, and ford the creek like your supposed to. Click here for day two.
http://kellbell-whywouldanyonereadthis.blogspot.com/2013/06/ross-lake-east-bank-trail-part-two.html

I had plenty of time to make a fire.
Maybe the rangers don't know everything. ;)