hiking in Washington

These past few days, much hiking has ensued, leaving me little time and energy for catching all my loyal readers up on the doings, so here’s a recap.

Friday we took a scenic drive all over the Kitsap Peninsula and hiked up to Staircase, which is in the Olympic foothills near Lake Cushman. (Right around 47.5° N and 123.5° W, if you’re following along on your map.) It was a glorious day and a relatively easy hike alongside a swift-moving mountain river. I believe the river is the Skokomish, although I could be wrong. After a mile or so along the trail, beyond the Staircase Rapids for which the hike is named, the river mellows out through a bit of bottomland area, where there were zillions of smooth river rocks

and some really tame deer. Neither these two babies nor their mother were at all concerned that we were nearby.

Beyond this point the trail narrows and climbs into an area called Beaver Burn, the site of a 1985 forest fire. Seventeen years later, you can still see the damage.

What surprised me most was the debris underfoot. Somehow I had expected the ground to be bare, or at least just normal woodsy ground, rather than the huge jumble of giant logs that it was. This was the edge of the burn, though, so it might have been different farther in. At this point we turned around and headed back.

+-+-+-+-+

Saturday was another perfect weather day, and T & I took the ferry from Bremerton over to Seattle to meet up with his friend G to do an “easy” Cascades hike to Tinkham Peak. In reality, it was in the mountaineering/rockclimbling book as easy, which means it was a few notches above easy on the hiking scale. Part of the hike followed the Pacific Crest National Scenic Trail, which puts it near 47.25° N and 121.5° W on the map, although the none of the lakes we saw on the hike are on the map I have.

We drove to a gate toward the end of a logging road, then walked a hot and dusty mile or so up the abandoned road to the Pacific Crest Trail. We crossed a small but swift stream after throwing a few rocks in for footing, and climbed for a bit more. Rounding the bend at the top of the waterfall above our stream crossing, we came upon snow and Mirror Lake (note to OSU people: not even a little bit of relation), which was still partially frozen — on the 6th of July.

The snow felt great after long, hot uphill trek. We rested a little while, then started across The Slope That Would Defeat Me.

Outside of the right-hand frame of this photo, above the snow, was a jumble of rocks like that seen across the snow. I traversed that with some trepidation, considering the steep slide down the mountain that would result if I fell. I made it along the big boulder in the center of the picture to the bottom of the nearly vertical slope that takes you to the upper right-hand side of the picture, where I got really shaky and uncertain and thus intelligently called the quits. My companions cheerfully escorted me back to the other side of the snow slide before continuing on at my insistence, leaving me with a Thermarest and the bug stuff and G’s shirt, since my Polarfleece was in T’s pack back up on TSTWDM. (I was already well set with a lighter, water, a sandwich, a chocolate bar, and an extra set of car keys, lest you think we’re complete idiots.) I climbed up on a rock and dug my heels into the snow against sliding, and literally cooled my heels until they returned. I freaked out a little bit, having stray thoughts about wildcats and bears, and how much they must love roast beef sandwiches, and from how far away would the scent of food attract them, anyway? Did I really remember the route back across the snow to get back to the trail, should it be necessary? Would an earthquake send me hurtling down the slope with all those loose rocks? After a while I settled down and started to enjoy the quiet and the view.

I could hear the roar of the waterfall and stream below, the cracking of the ice on the lake, the occasional fall of snow from the fir trees around me, hundreds of unusual (to me) birds that I never did see, the flurries of flies and mosquitos that wanted to feast on me, DEET aside, and of course the imaginary wanderings of critters larger than me. I dug a little hole in the snow to cool my sandwich and refrim my melted chocolate. The sun was hot and the snow was cold and all was right with the world for a while. I just sat and soaked it all in.

I was glad to hear the approach of my companions, though, about an hour ahead of schedule. Apparently I made a good choice of heel-cooling spots, as the top of the slope was scary and the ridge even scarier — this description from one used to this kind of hiking. After a bit of rest, we headed back down. I felt like I had conquered the mountain (even though I hadn’t), with only a few scratches and some hellacious bug bites (which are still itching four days later, thank you).

Rather than returning on the ferry, we drove around through Tacoma and across the Tacoma Narrows Bridge. Remember that one from high school physics, the bridge that oscillated and eventually broke apart? It looked like just a manini little bridge in those film loops, but let me tell you that the span it crosses is big, and it is awfully high up. The new bridge has a profound curve to it to prevent oscillation, but it’s still freaky to drive over it.

+-+-+-+-+

Sunday was a day of relative rest and back to gray raininess. After a long sleep-in, we took a drive to a neglected state park called Shine, just on the other side of the Hood Canal Bridge. There were blue heron and rocks and shells galore, and only a few other people. I carried my hot tea and walked slowly through the rain, something I haven’t done in a long time.

Monday I dropped off film and we ran errands and did a little shopping. I called to check on the progress of my car, which they said would be ready that afternoon. T insisted on driving me, so we went yesterday afternoon to retrieve it, this time taking the ferry from Bainbridge Island over to Seattle. It feels good to have my car again.

+-+-+-+-+

My hosts have been extremely gracious, and have gone above and beyond to make me feel welcome and at home. They are private people, so I don’t talk about them much, but their hospitality has made this trip just glorious so far. I have seen so many things that I wouldn’t have seen on my own, and have eaten so much good food, and have had such a great time just touring around and hanging out and playing with the little one. Their house is comfortable, and has a nice view of the Olympics when it’s clear.

+-+-+-+-+

Today we went antiquing in the morning, and I found a huge old glass cookie jar for a bargain price. The afternoon was a hike to Stavis Bay, which is on the other side of the peninsula between Seabeck and Holly. I picked up some oyster shells there. We got a pizza at Seabeck Pizza on the way back, and man oh man was it good. Not quite Emilio’s, but close.

Tomorrow we’re going to poke around in Poulsbo, a nearby town with little shops and a famous bakery.