Tuesday, July 29, 2008

Holy Steepness Batman



I've been harassing my friend Greg about going on a backpacking trip for the last couple of months. He lives in Sequim, WA which is along the northern coast of the Olympic Peninsula, which isn't too far from one our countries greatest national forests, Olympic National Forest. He finally found a window of opportunity to organize a trip for us. We added another two adventurers to our trip, Russ (Seattle) and Hugh (Portland). We set out for a 14-mile 3-day trip shortly after lunch on Friday.

Greg is known for selecting the most intense hikes he can find. Expecting to grind my legs into the ground for 3 straight days, i started preparing early. I have been pretty good about getting a hike under my belt every weekend. I've been working my way up in elevation gain and distance as each hike is notched under my boots. My last warm-up hike was Saddle Mountain along Oregon's coastal range. It's a short 5-mile round trip but throws a few steep inclines and technical scrambles in the hiker's path. My issue wasn't so much the trail but my boots (a reoccurring theme i have taken steps to remedy). By the time i reached the "summit" of Saddle Mountain, my heels looked like they had been rubbed against a belt sander and then smashed with a hammer. Not good. I made some quick blister repairs (duct tape and part of my cliff bar wrapper) and headed back down to the truck. My blister rig helped keep the heel carnage down to a minimum but the damage was already done. The love hate relationship with my boots met a fatal end when i stopped off at REI on my way home that afternoon. I picked up a pair of low top hikers and put my boots into retirement.



The last push to summit Saddle Mountain.

Looking toward the Columbia River, Mt Rainier, Mt. Adams and Mt. Saint Helens.


After 3 long days in a conference room i was ready to hit the trails again. I took off out of Portland early Friday morning. Still worried about my battered heels and new kicks, thoughts of stepping away from the trip were faint in my mind. I knew i would regret not going so. . .i went (with a roll of duct tape and plenty of mole skin).

Day One:
We set out into the forest roads of the Olympic National Forest after a feast of venison burgers and salad. Our first day's agenda was to summit Mt Townsend (6278 feet) and then a trek down to Silver Lake for a good night's rest. In typical Greg fashion, we didn't take the easy way up to the summit. Instead we decided to take the "challenging" trail. In the first mile we climbed 1500 feet of elevation. The next 2 1/2 miles to the summit didn't stray much from that grade. The trip to the top of Mt Townsend was gruelling but well worth it. A late Spring provided no shortage of wild flowers or snow covered peaks to enjoy. From the summit you could see out to the Puget Sound, the city of Seattle, the San Juan islands, and an endless supply of other Olympic peaks. After some jolly hogging (i think i just made that up but i like it) on the summit it was time to head down to our camp for the night. It was another 4 miles down to Silver Lake. Thankfully they utilized the art of switchbacks on this part of the trip. The trip down was riddled with more wild flowers and mountain views. We got into Silver Lake around 7.30 and started setting up camp. The evening was uneventful minus Greg nearly crushing my face with a Nalgene bottle. We were struggling to hang our bear line (don't do this in the dark, tip #1) and Greg was using a Nalgene and to throw the cordage through the tree limbs. In the case of a bad throw (which were plenty) we had to tug the bottle back through the trees. Well. . .Greg started tugging (i was laying half way on the trail and in the brush, trying to sleep) and the top of the bottle snapped off, Greg went ass first into the brush and the bottle came flying out of the tree crashing 6 inches from my face. I looked over at Greg and saw nothing but his feet sticking out from the bushes. We had a good laugh (10 minutes of gut cramping, face aching laughter) and got back to hanging our bear line.


Pre-Departure photo. Look how happy we all are (this will change shortly)



The start of Day 1. Frisbee questions her father's choice of trail (and pack weight).

Greg signs our lives away. This probably should have been an indicator of the trip we were about to embark on.

Russ and Hugh taking a quick breather.

Me taking a quick breather and time to shoot what Russ calls my "Facebook" photo.


I took a break and snapped this on the way up.


Just a glimpse of the wildflowers that lined the trail.

Russ and Greg bringing up the rear.

Greg and Russ reaching the summit of Mt. Townsend

The view. Worth all the cursing, sweat and more cursing.

Russ helping me set up the camera for the group photo (how photogenic).


The boys (and girl) on Mt. Townsend's summit.


The trail on the way down to Silver Lake (look more wildflowers and mountains).



Silver Lake.


Ernie keeping an eye on things.


Hugh keeping catching a pre-bedtime star gaze.

Day Two:

Our second day had a pretty simple plan in mind, just 2.5 miles. There wasn't an established path for the route we had planned. I guess that is what topo maps, compasses and gps devices are for (all of which i had nothing to do with). Looking at the maps, Greg and Hugh decided it was best to abort Greg's original plan to hike up to a saddle along the ridge and scramble along the ridgeline until we found the valley we needed. Instead, we picked the more direct, aka vertical, route to our desired destination. Just behind our camp there was a boulder field that, in theory, would lead us to the summit. According to the contours there was even a "flat spot" to collect ourselves. The plan was to hike to said "flat spot" and see if we could reach the ridgeline from there. We did reach the "flat spot" (the reason for the ". . ." is because it was in fact, our only flat spot of the day) but only after slogging through the boulder field, some scree, a vertical mountain meadow, and some more scree. Once at the flat spot, which was snow filled and not all that flat, we saw our path to the ridge. Guess what. . .another scree field. We got to the ridgeline and took a well deserved break. Cursing the uphill battle we had just completed, we were ready for some downhill (careful what you wish for). Hugh and Russ took a quick, packless scramble around a rock feature and scoped out our route down. After some snacks we threw our packs on and started along the ridgeline. About an 1/8th of a mile along the ridge we walked out into an alpine meadow that marked the downhill we had been craving. There was some resemblance of a trail as we trekked through meadow after meadow, after scree, after meadow, after snow field, after meadow, after scree, after down climb, after meadow. . .you get the picture (and if you don't, you never will). We got back under the timberline and continued downhill to a creek crossing, up a little hill and we were at our camp for the night. After only 2 1/2 miles my legs felt the same the did after the previous day's 7 1/2 mile grind. Our campsite was situated along a stream that at one point in time (1950-something) was the site of b-17 bomber crash. The wreckage was still all over the place. We even had a piece of the tail sitting in our campsite.

High spirits for the start of day two.

Russ trying to hide from the morning rain. I think his tentmate left a little something on his chin (Hugh you dirty, dirty man).

Our "path" on day two.


Looking back to where we started.

Greg taking a break a the "flat spot" and scoping out his route for the last push to the ridgeline.

Looking back on the flat spot and Silver Lake from the ridgeline.

Russ, Hugh and Ernie descend into the clouds.



Russ and Hugh breaking away from the group in a scree field.

Group photos were a great excuse for taking a break and catching your breath.


Another wildflower patch.


Leftover bomber wreckage.


Russ holding some bomber scraps, the tail fin behind him and Fris waiting for him to throw something (anything).


By the end of day two our emotions were all over the place.

Day Three:

We woke up to a morning filled with liquid sunshine. It made for a messy clean-up of camp and limited photo ops (as did the dying battery of my camera). The final day on the trail should probably be labeled a "cake walk." The hike back to the cars was walk in the park (which it actually was "a walk in the park" Olympic National Park that is. Ha, ha) in comparison to the two previous days. A 4-mile lightly graded downhill was all we had between us and real food, flip flops and a soak in the hot tub. Our packs were lightened from the prior night's gorging of food and limited water supply. We basically ran out of the woods, completing our 4-mile stroll in just under an hour. We posed for a final group photo along the foot bridge leading up to the parking lot and bid the woods good bye.

The last group shot as we headed back to civilization.

It was an awesome trip. Kudos to Greg for picking a challenging route that made all of us question his planning but in the end left us thanking nature for the views and experience. The Olympics are more than just another gem the wild west has to offer. They are a trip through thousands of years of history (fossils can be found at 6000 feet above sea level), a experience in nature's flower shop and an excellent way to wear the skin right off the back of your heel.

Saturday, July 19, 2008

Visitor From the East

Many of you may already know but Willy came out for a week long visit in early July. His trip, unlike many other trips to Stumptown, came with a packed agenda. Willy has the advantage of being a veteran traveler to Portland so less time is spent in the city and more is spent out and about. For his trip this year we were adventure bound and heading southward. Not that there isn't enough adventure to be had in Portland but watching smelly hippies play Frisbee along the waterfront but it was not part of our master plan, not this time.

Willy got into Portland (hassle free for the first time) on Thursday the 3rd. We took it easy the first night and let him settle into the Portland attitude. The next morning we headed up to the mountain in search of glacial trails and mountainous views. Our plans were altered by low lying clouds and a washed out trail. We switched our route and headed into the gorge for a stroll along the famous Eagle Creek Trail. Still taking it easy we opted for the 4-mile loop that turned around at Punch Bowl Falls. The trail is known for it's narrow trail that winds allow the canyon walls created by Eagle Creek. Before getting to Punch Bowl Falls we took a side trail to view Metlako Falls.

The infamous Eagle Creek Trail.


Willy about to snap a photo of Metlako falls.

Punchbowl Falls from a hidden side trail scramble.

When we got back to town it was time for an afternoon nap before the real festivities began. We had a little shindig at the house to celebrate the independence of our beloved country. What better way to do that than with some saw horses and a sheet of plywood, let's not forget the plastic "keg" cups and cheap beer. That's right. . .to celebrate the creation of our country we played Beer Pong. Willy and i were victorious over the beer pong vets. Actually, the victory really goes to Willy as i did very little to contribute to demise of our opponents. I did, however, drink plenty of Pabst Blue Ribbon. The evening rounded out with a patriotic display of illegal fireworks in the street. My neighbor was kind enough to donate some mortars to our cause. It was a nice display of our love for mother America.

Keg kup karnage.

The real adventure began Sunday morning when we started toward Crater Lake, Oregon's only National Park. Yes. . .you read correctly. . .Oregon's only National Park. Hard to believe i know but when your state does a good enough job of protecting it's land, the feds don't need to step in an protect it for you. On our way southward we stopped off in Bend to grab some nourishment, a pint, and stretch our legs. After a walk along the Deschuttes river it was back into the truck and on the road. The two campgrounds within the park were both closed due to snow so we settled in at Diamond Lake. The campground was pretty empty. We grabbed a spot along K-loop and pitched camp under the looming view of Mt Baxter (or something like that). The lakeside site was nice but the it came with the usual lake side annoyances. The gnats were so plentiful that you could hardly see through their swarms and regardless of what any of my exes may say, the mosquitoes found me to be sweet. After settling into camp it was time for some libations, great conversation and in the end. . .sleep, precious sleep.

Willy's home for the week.


My lovely abode for the week.

(little) Bigfoot sighting

The next morning we toasted up some bagels on the Coleman and started the 20 minute drive down to Crate Lake. The drive to the lake offered a variety of landscapes, from pumice deserts to snow topped peaks. As we started up the rim drive i was struck square in the face with what felt like a bat. It's amazing how the 7th deepest lake in the world can sneak up on you while you're driving. When the lake suddenly came into view like a. . .turkey flying into the side of a truck. . .i nearly drove the two of us to our deaths. The view is something pictures will never even begin to display but i make my feeble attempts below. We didn't make it down to the boat launch that provides people with an opportunity to hike Wizard Island because the entire east side of the rim drive was still under snow. We still managed to get a couple solid views of the lake though.


Crater Lake and Wizard Island.



Ditto.

After a two day stint with the bugs and the beautiful views of Diamond Lake it was time to head west and into the Umpqua National Forest. Our destination was Horseshoe Bend Campground, which is situated along the banks of the North branch of the Umpqua. . .it was time for some rafting. We got into camp pretty early and decided to just settle into our new home away from home. We met our raft guides our first night and one joined us later in the evening for some farkel (dice, similar to squelch for those of you who are familiar with it) and switch (an incredibly card game similar to Uno, which was handed down to me by an irishman). The next morning we hopped in the van with the guides and headed down to the boat launch. Our first day on the river we were accompanied by a family of three from San Diego. They were cool enough folks and kept the conversation going and the water flying, when necessary. The other boat in our party was filled with a bachelor party. The boys were rowdy and useless. At one point one of the fellas tackled their guide and took her into the river with him, leaving the rest of the group to fend for themselves. Lucky for the guide, they were apparently scared to get their paddles wet, so they didn't get very far. Lucky for us. . .they were the other group on the overnight trip, so we were stuck with the for the night and another day.


Safety first.

A random rapid along the North Umpqua.


Looking back to check in on the slacker bachelor boat.

After a long day on the river our guides cooked up some cedar planked salmon, redskin mashed potatoes, garlic bread and some peach cobbler fresh out of the dutch oven. Dinner was delicious and our rowdy bachelor party companions provided plenty of entertainment. We stayed up late partying with the bachelors and guides. We threw down some more farkel and switch and drank our share of boxed wine (at least i did). The next day it was back to the river. There were two other boats scheduled to head down the river with us. Our counterparts for day two were a wedding party and the bachelors. Hoping to avoid a day in the boat with the rowdies we begged and pleaded with our guides to break up the wedding party. Our efforts were lost and we were bachelor boat bound. Something must have gotten into them (besides boxed wine and watered down beer), because they paddled their drunken, meat-headed hearts out, at least until lunch. After lunch the river was pretty tame and the antics began. We rodeoed our boats (someone stands on the front or back of the boat and tries to keep their balance as everyone else in the boat sporadically spins the boat in different directions) and tortured the wedding boats. The wedding boats didn't have much in the way of personality (later to find out that one of them was from Maryland, psht). It could have been because we incessantly doused the groom with buckets full of water and knocked the bride off her tube with another bucketful. Although the North Umpqua River isn't thrashing with whitewater (it boasts more rapids per mile than any other river in Oregon), it make for a beautiful trip along some of Oregon's pristine national forests.


Group photo with the bachelors.


I think it's the same random rapid. You be the judge.


We headed back to Portland Friday morning. The trip was uneventful. Once we got back into the town we headed over to Apizza Scholls for some the best pie known to man. Tired from the week's excursions, we called it a night. The next morning we had an early wake up call for Willy's flight back east. All in all it was a great trip. Living so far from family really makes you appreciate the time you do get with family. It certainly doesn't hurt when it gives you reason to gallivant around Oregon too.

There will be more pics posted from this trip. My little 256 memory card could only handle so much beauty. Willy will be sending me some of the stuff he shot during our adventures. I'll post them when they make their way out west. Ta ta for now.

Wednesday, July 2, 2008

Blistering Blog

I'm going to keep this short. This past weekend my friend Michelle, her sister's dog Marley, and i went for a Saturday slog up Hamilton Mountain in Washington. The hike was a steady 8mile loop that gained 2400 feet elevation in 4 miles and lost the same on the way back down. I'm getting ready for my multi-day i have planned with Greg and the pups (and a tenative Russell) at the end of July. Have a new pair of boots that are in need of a serious breaking in, however, my feet are what's getting broken. Both my heels came away from the hike with 1/2 dollar sized blisters. Fortunately, my soccer boots took care of opening those blisters up Monday night. Enough words, here are the pictures from our hike (and a few words).

Looking out into the gorge and out onto Beacon Rock.

Pool of Winds.

Ditto.

Lower section of Rodney Falls.

Looking east into the gorge.

Table Rock to the left and Mt. Adams to the right.

Ditto.


The trail back down with the tip of Mt. Hood peeking over the south wall of the gorge.