Hermit in my head

...somewhere near Yellow Banks...

2011-02-21T12:45:00.000-08:00

Backpacking Time Machine!

2011-01-21T08:14:00.000-08:00

I've loved being outside all my life. When we were kids, my brother and I would get up early in the morning, eat a quick breakfast and then disappear into the woods all day until my dad came home from work and whistled for us to come to dinner. Dad would also take us backpacking as much as he could (thank you dad!). That is the gift I cherish the most from him...the love of nature.
The wilds is where I feel at peace, confident and alive. Life is brought back down to bedrock choices...shelter, water, food. Everything above that is luxury.

Here's a few pics from my past. I'm the younger one. Enjoy!

New Years Eve 2010

2011-01-04T07:56:00.000-08:00

The drive over the Olympic Peninsula to Forks is always a long one. An early start is just about a prerequisite to make an overnight trip worthwhile. I've driven this route too many times to recall, and I'm always happy to finally pull into the parking lot, stretch, and let the blood flow back into my extremities. Even being a meticulous packer, the parking lot has always served me as an invaluable opportunity to change into hiking clothes, make any last minute additions or subtractions to the backpack base on weather or whim, and run through the checklist one last time before hitting the trail. Although we didn't get the early start we had hoped for, Will and I were soon on our way.

The trail to the beach is a wonderful stretch of forest that wanders it's way toward the ever-increasing sound of the surf crashing against whatever crossed it's path. The trail leading to the first stretch of beach is just shy of a mile and a half, so it's quite wide as it serves as an easy gateway for even the most timid foot travelers. At the last minute, the trail plunges downward to an intersection with a creek and the beach. During winter storms, many trees and logs are dashed about and jettisoned to the very limits of where the beach and the forest meet. These logs pile up to a point where you have quite a scramble just to step out onto the sandy edge of the North American continent.

As it was the last day of 2010, temperatures in this area were hovering right around freezing. I'd expected constant winds as soon as we stepped onto the beach, but gladly that was not to be. What we happened upon instead was a gloriously sunny day that held promises of adventure and a feeling of freedom that can't be matched in any city or town in the world! Now, the middle of winter is not usually a time for backpacking in Western Washington, and we found our desired campsite vacant as expected. Shortly afterwards, groups of backpackers and hikers with the same idea we had began to file their way onto the beach. The backpackers stopped to scan the horizon, pack away an unneeded windbreaker, or grab a snack, but were soon lifting their heavy loads again to make their way to other destinations. Meanwhile the hikers milled up and down the beach for several hours before slowly making their way back to their cars and civilization.

Will decided the weather was right for a bit of kayaking, so took the trip back to the car to pick up the kayak and gear. He was back in about an hour with the kayak strapped to his back and a huge smile on his face. A Park Ranger came by tracking some dog prints and stopped to chat with us for a bit as Will wriggled into his dry suit. I believe the ranger thought Will to be a bit mad as he repeated several times that "911 still works even though you won't have cell service here". Shortly, he bid us farewell stating that he was glad to have folks back on the beaches. I'll bet he has seen things on these lonely stretches of beach that I can only dream of.

Will navigated the receding tide and rocks and paddled out to where the waves were just beginning to build. He would spin around at just the right time and ride the wave in for a bit, then start the process all over again.

He managed to stay out for about an hour before needing to come in for a short rest. Soon enough, he was back out playing in the bay. Someday I may get the opportunity to try my hand at what looks like great fun, but for now I'm content to take some pictures and mosey up and down the beach, looking for treasures or enjoying the show nature puts on all day, everyday.

As dusk fell upon us, we decided it was high time to get the campfire started. The temperatures were starting to plummet as darkness took over, and we knew the fire would fend off the bitter cold enough to sit and chat a bit. Now, I won't go into detail, but suffice it to say that the fire took a great deal longer than it should have to get crackling. Once we'd built up a coal base, we buried some foil-wrapped potatoes in the embers and positioned our grate over them to grill our steaks. With dinner almost ready, we porepared a wonderful spinach salad and washed it all down with a six-pack of Blue Moon (my favorite beer). But alas, a roaring fire, good conversation and many layers of insulating clothing couldn't stop the creeping, penetrating chill, and I eventually retreated to the safety of my fluffy, down sleeping bag. I'm pleased to report that my bag works quite well and I slept through the entire night.

The sun shone early, but the cold held a firm grip on the land as we began to stir New Year's Day. Foregoing the fire, we chose instead to wander aimlessly up and down the beach until we decided it was time to pack up and head back home. Will, not wanting to make two trips back and forth, decided to try packing it all in one trip. Didn't hear a peep out of him and he made it seem like no trouble at all. Before long we were back on the road headed home. All in all, a great way to end the year, and an optimistic way to start the next. Hopefully I will be blessed to get out many more times this coming year.

Milk Creek/Royal Basin Loop, 3-5 Aug 2010

2010-09-07T18:56:00.000-07:00

The plan was simple...

Will and I would leave work at noon on Friday and head up the Dungeness Trail to Camp Handy, then cross the river and locate a hard-to-find, hard-to-follow way trail up 2 miles to Goat Lake, camp for two days and retrace our steps to the car on Sunday. Easy peasy, right?

All went as planned up to the point where we were to find the elusive Goat Lake way trail. All the books say the beginning and end of this trail are hard to find, but the middle portion is quite navigable. Well we took this into account and searched around a bit until we found what we both felt had to be the proper trail. Our doubts continued throughout the day as we gained and lost the trail climbing the valley up steep walls and through slide areas that, if there ever was a trail 30 years ago (when the description we were using to navigate was written), it was long wiped out in huge rivers of boulder slides being choked out by large groves of slide alder and disfigured evergreens. And for some reason unknown to us, the valley seemed to take a pretty sharp left for one that was straight as a finger on the map. Undeterred, we pressed on. This decision was due in part to the fact that we had just broken free of the dense forest and gained the greatest advantage alpine areas afford the cross-country traveler...visibility. Now that we could see quite a way up the valley, we spotted an area that was sure to contain the lake we sought.
Up and up we went, side-hilling scree slopes until at last we were slogging through saturated alpine meadows. But no lake? This was irritating, but we looked up and spied yet another area that felt like it could contain a lake. We continued this process of failure far longer than we felt appropriate to the 2 miles we knew it would take to reach the lakes from Camp Handy. Even bush-whacking, we should have reached them by now. It was too late for backtracking now as dusk was approaching, so we continued up. We knew we had about 30 minutes of light left and we ought to find a place to hunker down for the night. We continued upward, reaching areas where you had to look hard to see anything besides boulders & snow. We finally reached a flatish area large enough for our needs just as night fell. I pitched my tent at the foot of a huge snowfield where the snowmelt was running swiftly. Although the day had been hot, I knew camping here meant cold winds blowing down the snowfield to settle in the valley at night. I was right. With camp situated, we sat down to eat dinner and watch the stars come out and also the city lights far below us and to the northeast. Afterwards, sitting around a Sterno can as one would a campfire, we chatted a bit and watched several lights just on the horizon darting in circles and back and forth. Sometimes one would dart at the other swiftly and the other would react to it by darting away, then slowly returning or blinking out altogether. We decided that the atmosphere was at work here (being so far away and so low on the horizon). That, or we had just seen some UFO's. Nobody reached for their camera.

This business of a missing Goat Lake didn't seem to bother us as we were safe, comfortable, enjoying every minute of it (except the grueling uphill sections), and had a fair idea that we had simply missed our turn and went one drainage farther than we should have and simply could climb up the ridge tomorrow and drop into the Goat Lake area as intended. With that decided (and it being 11pm), we called it quits. I headed for my tent, while Will got his bivy ready.

The stars really do put on a show if you ever get away from city lights long enough to see it. I got up for several performances throughout the night. The gusts of wind were amazingly cold though and penetrated instantly. Lucky for me I have an outstanding down sleeping bag to jump into as soon as it got too cold.

Morning. My favorite time of day out in the mountains. Everything is possible, nothing is excluded yet. The sun lights up the cliff faces and high, hanging meadows. Morning time is short though, for soon thoughts turn to climbing ridges and peaks and passes in search of “what’s around the next corner”. Possibilities are narrowed, plans set and gear gathered. We are climbing up the ridge first thing, to see if Goat Lakes is just on the other side.

As we climb, we can see our camp get smaller and smaller. As we crested the ridge, we saw a massive basin, complete with a aqua-blue tarn nestled in between a rock slide and an alpine meadow. As we walked the ridgeline a bit, we could see a larger lake down the valley a bit, and I instantly recognized it as Royal Lake. Now I could see the basin we had just discovered was the entire Royal Basin area. With that insight, we could see on the map that we had indeed missed our turn and taken the next one, but we had easily gone an extra 2 miles up. We had camped in the bosom of Mt. Fricaba.

The mystery was solved. So, knowing exactly where we were, there was nothing left to do but explore it thoroughly. The day was spent climbing, side-hilling, glissading down snowpacks, journaling, reading…I even took a nap in a warm tent away from the chilly gusts.

I’d seen Will eyeballing the summit of Mt. Fricaba earlier in the day, and when I rolled out of my tent from my nap, he had just started off on his quest. Having my binoculars and knowing where he intended to go, I walked up the snow chute to a good vantage point of the ridge he would be taking and watched him all the way up and back down. Well done Will!

As we ate dinner, we discussed simply climbing over the ridge and down into Royal Basin tomorrow and hiking the trail out instead of bushwhacking back the way we came. That sounded good to both of us so it became the plan.

Both mornings saw below freezing temperatures and made snow travel on an incline a dicey proposition. With that thought, we picked our way down the basin wall with care, discussing proposed routes and weighing our options. We did great and were having a great time until we found that we had actually boxed ourselves into a pickle. We discovered that the snow chute we were side-stepping was in fact fully intact on both sides of us. A long, steep climb was one option, but we spied a bare, boulder patch in the top third of the snow field and decided to test the traction of the snow. We grabbed a sharp rock (there are plenty around) and began hacking some crude footholds to get over to where we could let go and slide to, hopefully safely. Will went first. He picked up speed quick, but managed to stop himself before continuing down the rest of the icy snow to what was sure to be at least many broken bones. Next was my turn. For whatever reason, I had none of the slipping problems Will had and could shimmy my way down with relative control. We continued this process another time and reached our goal smiling and enjoying every minute of it.

An hour and a half after leaving camp, we reached the meadows of Royal Basin and were soon stepping foot on the trail at the foot of the upper basin. With the luxury of a trail under our feet, we made excellent time, and reached the car two and a half hours later.

In the big picture we did almost nothing according to the original plan, but neither of us cared or would have changed anything.

Third Beach Revisited...

2009-04-27T19:19:00.000-07:00

...this time with my son!

April 25th was slated to be my son's first "official" backpacking trip. He had accompanied me on many other day hikes and we've even camped-out in our tent at my parent's property several times. He was definately overdue.

The trail would differ from my last excursion here weeks ago in two very noticable ways:

1. This trip was to be much shorter in mileage, &

2. This occasion would prove to be a fair bit drier and warmer than the last.

The long drive up and around the Olympic Peninsula to the rugged coast of Washington State went rather quickly with my son chatting with me one minute, playing his Gameboy the next. Before long we were strapping on the packs and he was taking his first steps down a road less traveled, one where you slow down and take notice of the little things, the natural things.

The birds welcomed us into one of the most beautiful forests I've had the pleasure to visit. The path is quite wide for a high percentage of this leg of the trail and we walked side by side as he figured out the straps and other adjustments on his pack. We stopped for several short breaks and I was proud of how he handled his load and scouted the trail ahead of him. As I said earlier, this stretch of trail is fairly short and nearing the end, your dropped steadily and rapidly down a gully until you break out onto a small creek that pushes out onto the beach and into the awaiting Pacific.

Squinting, we both scrambled over huge logs that have been tossed to the back of the beach by past storms, and plopped onto the sand. While the main trail continues south down the beach and disappears as it scrambles up a rope ladder back into the forest, we chose north, as our priority was to find a worthy campsite. After about the third decent spot, we finally found where we would call home for the next day. A little flat spot above high tide that was protected from the wind by a partially downed tree. Setting up camp was a breeze and in short order we were barefoot and strolling down the beach. Simon found a nice walking stick and got busy drawing in the sand. I smoked my pipe while watching him explore the beach, the surf, and the logs that divided the forest from the sand.

Being there all day enabled us to walk down both stretches of beach several times, and by mid afternoon, we were pooped! Simon decided to escape to the tent and laid around just relaxing and enjoying the sound of the pounding surf and seagulls and the occasional far away "V" of migratory geese heading north for the summer. Me, I found a comfortable log to recline on and stared at the seastacks and waves while lazily sipping my pipe.

Dinner was next on our "to-do" list and we were prepared with some noodle soup and other fun snacks. Now, all the planning in the world will not save you from at least one forgotten item. This trip it was to be the utensils. After washing our hands we dug in...all-in-all, not the worst thing I've forgotten and we were full before long, which is, in fact, the point.

Another walk as dusk approached and we chose to lounge in our sleeping bags with the tent door open to watch the sunset over the beach until darkness and sleepiness overtook us both.

When nature calls in the middle of the night, getting out of your warm sleeping bag is not your favorite activity, but it does come with it's rewards...The stars! When you get away from the permanent light pollution that a city or town gives off, you can really start to see how vast space actually is. The stars were so bright the beach was lit up quite plainly and it provided a wonderful moment in time. But enough of that, it's cold out here and I hear my sleeping bag calling.

Mornings at the beach are pretty consistant. Things happen as they always do. Eagles glide low, racoons make tracks in the sand, and deer come out of the forest to get a good whif of the surf. Another walk before breakfast, with Simon continuing his sand art and me with my head down looking for interesting rocks. Breaking camp was also a snap and before we realized it, we were packed and heading toward the trail that would bring us back home. I think we both hesitated a bit, realizing that we had just spent two days together not just as father and son, but friends and hiking-buddies. I'm sure there will be more adventures to come.

Bogachiel River Hike, 4-5 Apr '09

2009-04-06T15:56:00.000-07:00

One week from my last adventure, I find myself once again in my buddies car making the long trek towards the western flanks for the Olympic mountains. This time would prove less comfy as I was relegated to the back seat with a backpack and other assorted paraphenalia being tossed back and forth as we navigate the winding road that hugs the shore of Lake Cresent. This weekend would see three of us making our way into the much overlooked rainforest that is nestled in a valley just north of the famous Hoh Rainforest.

Stopping in Forks for some last minute shopping (one of my friends forgot their boots, but I'm not telling which one), I notice that every single business in Forks has a sign out name-dropping Twilight (the book & movie) which was the town the story takes place in. Twilight merchandise was everywhere. It was very odd, but it is a small town, and in this economy it seems like a real boost for this community.

One new pair of boots later and we were back on the road for the remaining few miles to our destination, a gate across a dirt road and a decent sized parking area for the many fishermen that frequent this river. With a small flurry of rechecking supplies and tightening laces, we take the first steps down the trail.

I say down, because this trail plunges immediately down a handful of switchbacks to the valley floor. It reminded me of that kid show "Land of the Lost" where they raft down a waterfall into prehistoric times, or perhaps Luke Skywalker crash-landing into the swamps of Dagobah.The trail flattens out nicely and you really have no further big uphills until much later in the hike. This kind of trail usually lends itself to turning on the afterburners and churning out some heavy mileage in short order, but this trail really forces you to slow down. It's so vast and immense, yet you find yourself stopping to kneel down for a better look at the little things. Certainly the trees are immense, there is no arguement about this. But what really starts to slowly creep into your consciousness is the increadible diversity of plant and animal life present in this damp, mossy forest. Everything that lives there, from the dozens of species of moss clinging to almost everything that doesn't move, to the animal life quietly moving about their business, is part of something bigger. Something that can only happen in certain sacred sites around the world. Something so special that were you to remove just one tiny element, the delicate balance would be altered and you would lose what makes this place so special...so perfect.

Water is everywhere! Of course, you'd expect that from a rainforest, but it doesn't truly sink in until you see how lush everything is. You really can't walk anywhere without hearing the trickle of water coming from somewhere or another. Sometimes crossing the trail, sometimes carving a little underground cave under a tree root, but always the peaceful sounds of life-sustaining water.

Along the trail, our party of three faded in and out, sometimes walking and talking together, sometimes spaced out far enough for all to enjoy their own little piece of trail in solitude, sometimes stopped, packs off and reclining enjoying a pipe or off the path photographing some hidden treasure. It is a wonder we ever made it to camp. But in time, we finally hooked back up with the river that we planned to camp at and started hunting a decent campsite. I chose the high ground at the very edge of the forest, and pitched my tent right under a huge Sitka Spruce overlooking the wide expanse of sandbars and waterways carved out by many winter storms. My companions moved down river a few hundred yards and pitched camp on a sandbar and were starting a campfire as I finished getting my sleeping bag ready and putting the finishing touches on what was to be home for the night.

Finishing up with dinner, it was high time for a pipe. I loaded my Dr. Grabow Omega with some GH Rum Flake gifted to me by a friend in New Jersey. What a treat that was! A perfect compliment to walking the sandbars, exploring all the different routes the river took finding the path of least resistance.

Although the evidence was all around us, we never spotted any elk on this trip. Quite possibly we were too many and too noisy for any encounters of that kind. We did see some hawks, Bald Eagles, and other various small wildlife. Tracks were everywhere, and we had a good time trying to name the ones we could figure out.

At dusk, we spent a bit of time around the campfire and chatting and enjoying each others company. Growing tired, I said my goodnights and headed up river to my quiet forest-edge camp. Peeling of my boots and socks and climbing into my sleeping bag sure felt good! I was glad I spent the time to make house earlier, as everything was right where I needed it that night. An extra pair of socks for when it got colder, my headlamp for the numerous trips outside the tent to water the plantlife, my watch (actually my cellphone), for figuring out what time it was, and things of that nature. All-in-all, a great nights sleep that didn't get too cold until morning. When dawn struck, there was a heavy coating of frost over everything, telling me that it had dipped into the 20's during the night.

Morning saw a casual breakfast, followed by another nice walk around the riverbanks, then a casual, non-hurried packing up of gear. Nobody really wanted to leave just yet, so we stood around and soaked up as much beauty as we could. In a wonderland of this magnitude, you really need to turn on all your senses to get the full experience. Sight, sound, feel, taste & smell all played an integral role in etching the experience in our minds. I was personally trying to create as many special memories as I could. You never know if you'll come back someday, so you need to ensure you've had your fill before leaving.

The trail on the way back was as special as the first time, with the added bonus of knowing the areas you wanted to revisit for that one last picture or that lunch break. Again, our party split up each to their own pace and whim in mind. When we finally made it to the switchbacking uphill that flagged the end our hike, we slowly, trugged up to the awaiting vehicle. Exchanging our backpacks for the responsibilities we left behind, we began the long drive back to our seperate lives...

...I wonder where we will head next?

Third Beach Trip Report

2009-04-01T20:46:00.000-07:00

Every winter, my hiking buddy and I start to go through withdrawals. We crave the solitude and beauty the mountains and the rugged places offer. Being situated snugly between two mountain ranges in the Pacific Northwest, gaining altitude at this time of year is not much of an option unless you’re equipped for heavy snow. Come February or March, we have usually had enough of waiting and start planning a beach hike. As I live near the Olympic Mountain range, and my buddy lives across the water in Seattle, near the Cascades, I usually end up planning our western hikes. This year, we chose a favorite of mine, Third Beach to Toleak Point.

We were in luck! The weather called for rain only on the day we were to hike out, which is no big deal as we are amply prepared for whatever conditions Mother Nature might throw our way. After checking our packs one last time to ensure we have everything, we leave the car behind and enter a beautiful stretch of forest trail that will dump us on the beach in a mere 3/4 mile.

At this point the trail is more like a narrow road, but that is quickly exchanged for a muddy single-track that gives us a sneak peek at the condition of the trail to come. This is a nice, easy stretch of trail that gives us a warm up and allows us to make on-the-fly adjustments to our backpack straps and belt. The temperature is in the 40’s (F) and will probably never see the 50’s (F) the entire hike.

In no time at all, we start the steep, rapid decent to the beach. The sound of the surf gradually grows as we decend and the trees thin. Like the slow opening curtain of a play, the trees abruptly give way to the Pacific Ocean.

Heading South, we head down the beach as far as the tide will allow. On this particular hike (and many others nearby) there are areas where the hillsides stubbornly refuse to erode, standing proud and strong against the advances of the angry surf. Some of these present no safe path to the beach beyond. In these cases, back up into the woods is the only option. The good folks at the National Parks have seen fit to provide either cable and wood ladders, or in the most primitive cases, a rope with convenient knots tied in it for gripping. Up we go.

Back in the woods, our eyes once again adjust to the dim light and our ears adjust to the blanket of silence. Soon enough we are making good time again, our eyes scanning left, then right, then up ahead in an effort to soak up every ounce of beauty. The birds are ignoring us, singing merrily as they try to find the perfect mate. This stretch is trail is quite a bit longer than the first and allows us time to really look closely at the things many will never see.

Soon enough we are dumped back onto the beach and we feel as if we are hiking many different hikes in one. As I mentioned earlier, the war that rages between the land and sea for territory pays little heed to us small and insignificant humans. Neither cares about providing a clear path of travel, so there are times where going up and around simply is not an option. At these times, there is nothing else to do, but find a cozy spot and relax while waiting for the tide to retreat and regroup for another assault. Time to kill? No problem, I’ll just load a bowl in my pipe and sit and watch the show…

My buddy and I are into photography a bit and these down times provide a welcome break and a chance to slow down and look for great shots.

After a well earned respite, we are back to it, making good time as we dodge the incoming waves while dancing around downed trees and rock hopping in an attempt to stay dry. Ah! At the edge of our visual abilities, we spy the outstretched point of beach that is to be our home for the night. In time, we reach our destination and get camp setup. An orange, a granola bar and some water down the hatch for fuel and we are off again to explore the sea stacks that riddle the coastline. The farther out the tide recedes, the more territory we have to explore. The waves give way to bedrock.

These jagged and formed rocks create tidal pools of varying sizes, each with their own community of residents.

As dusk approaches, we head in for the night. Getting a campfire ready to warm ourselves, it seemed appropriate to load another bowl in the pipe…

That night, the rain hit. In reality it was more of a drizzle...Slow, steady and drenching. I slept quite warm in the tent though and had a wonderful night being sung to sleep by the surf. Waking up early, we packed up quickly, donned our pack covers and rain gear and crammed down some breakfast. Then we were off to make the reverse trek back to humanity, jobs,bills & responsibilities. Not liking that thought much, we took out time and took photos wherever possible and talked of future hikes this coming year. We had several more hours of muddy trails, rope ladders, drizzling rain, crashing waves, beautiful birds, and great conversations, but I will end this story here as I think it appropriate to end happy and in a location where I’d love to be every day of my life.