Mountains and Baked Goods

The problem with taking a trip to lose yourself in the wilderness, is that you can do just that.  The days blur together with weekends only becoming noticeable by the influx of people and finding places with cell reception/free wifi is few and far between (or at least that is my excuse for not being socially-media active lately).  Which means that sometimes you find yourself in a National Park on a holiday weekend… Oops.  It is all part of the experience right?

As we drove towards our next park destination/realizing the error in our transient lifestyle ways, we were contemplating how the lack of pre-planning can make us attempt to think of  "on the spot" alternate plans (usually after a few back and forth quibbles trying to make the other one "be more decisive" and be the one to make the final choice) yet somehow it always works out. Funny enough, even as I am writing this, I cannot remember who won the latest bicker battle, so I can't take the credit nor would I relinquish it to Karl either but I can say the adventures of Starl Krenbic would not be the same if it didn't happen this way.

So, we find ourselves heading across Washington (yet again) up towards North Cascades National Park on not only a weekend, but the extended holiday weekend of the 4th of July. People everywhere. The first come first serve campsites that we have become accustomed to driving up to on a whim, were snatched up long before we even got near the park midday on the 2nd.  So we went to the Wilderness Visitor Center by the park to ask a Ranger on recommendations on possible places to camp outside of the park's borders. Simple words of wisdom:  "Find a National Forest Service Road to pull off on where 'dispersed camping' is free and unlimited."

FREE! 

+ the challenge of finding cool roads for Karl/Elle to tackle 

= Advice that has changed us ever since.

Off we go again onto the roads slightly less travelled to find a place to sleep for the night.

Along with the tip of utilizing forest service roads, we spoke with rangers about advice on what areas of the park we should try to see and check trail/weather conditions for said areas and this lil gem of a poem was in the ranger station with the weather reports:

What to Expect in the North Cascades

It rained and rained and rained

The average fall was well maintained.

And when the tracker were simply bogs,

It started raining cats and dogs.

After a drought of half an hour,

We had a most refreshing shower,

And then the most curious thing of all

A gentle rain began to fall!

Next day was also fairly dry,

Save for a deluge from the sky,

Which wetted the party to the skin,

And after that- the real rain set in.

It was quite the truth, and I loved the humor behind the honesty most of all.

On Sunday, July 3rd, we decided on a popular and highly recommended hike to Cascade Pass & beyond to the Sahale Arm to get some glacier/mountain views no matter what the weather (good thing, because we got the whole range of weather from sunshine, to downpours, to freezing winds, to snow) But, here is the thing, no matter how much I tell myself "there is no such thing as bad weather, just bad gear" the weather still can and will sway your mood especially when coupled with a 6+mile UPHILL hike and probably about 4,000 ft of elevation gain.

I am not complaining (well, I did complain- but I'll get to that later), or saying the hike was not worth it (looking back, the accomplished task always seems worth it AFTER the fact), or stating that this was a particularly difficult hike (it was only rated "M" or moderate, not "S" for strenuous) I am just warning you that I was not always on my "best behavior" so to say.

Here's the thing I have never been a happy hiker on continuous steep hills but I at least know my weaknesses and have been working on them. Usually when I have to hike mile upon mile of UPs, a mantra goes thru my head; something along the lines of "Set your goals high, Don't stop until you're there" or "It is just a hill, get over it" and I repeat that over and over in my head to a steady beat to keep my feet moving along with. My goal is to keep moving, even if it is at "Stacy Pace-y".  It works well for me, usually (key word, usually).

Then there are days like this where even if I am hiking as fast as I can people are passing me as if I was moving at a snail's speed. Karl made me feel slightly better when I expressed my frustration at my "terrible hiking abilities" by telling me to think of it as if we were learning how to swim, but decided to practice our strokes at an Olympic training facility pool. All the other people in that pool are Olympic athletes and have been swimming in that pool or ones like it for a long while, while we were used to kiddy pools until now so, of course, they swim faster than we do at the moment. But, in an Olympic sized swimming pool there are enough lanes for us all: fast or slow, Olympic swimmer or doggie paddler. After his metaphoric words of wisdom, I questioned myself "why the hell do you care if people pass you or not? It doesn't matter what they think of you, you are not here for them, keep hiking!"

Yet, it wasn't just being passed by faster hikers though, there were also the countless muddy switchbacks, then multiple snowfield crossings (where ice axes were needed yet again), and onto scrambling through talus all just to say we got to a certain point on a mountain One is supposed to be rewarded by spectacular views when they put themselves through something like this, yet we were rewarded with a freezing cold, blistering winds, and a great big gray cloud.

There was a point, less than 100 ft from the base camp for those who were attempting to summit Sahale Mountain, where I, in my attempt to keep up with Karl (who I swear is part mountain goat) lost my footing on the rocks and slipped (in my own, non-mountain goat-like ungraceful fashion) and landed my ass on a huge boulder. Frustrated with myself again, yelping over the winds at Karl like a kid having a temper tantrum, "WHY the HELL are we doing this?"

His smile and laughter were as much as an answer as any, but putting it in the best words he could he said "because I love it up here, the snow, the rocks, the thought that one big mistake could mean death! It is exciting!"

And, of course, he was right even if I was stuck at the being terrified of making the big mistake part, it was none the less quite exciting once you got over that.

After my mini meltdown/pouting session was over, Karl lifted me back on my feet and we made it to camp. Lucky for Karl, 2 things happened that brought my spirits back up. First. there were some mountaineers set up in their tents surrounded by hand built little rock walls to try to block the winds, waiting for a weather window in which they could attempt to summit the mountain (which no one could even see due to the cloud). But, they were super friendly, and right away greeted us with an immediate, "HEY! Are you two going for the summit?" In that fleeting moment, these bad-ass, tricked out with gear, mountaineers thought we looked at least semi-bad-ass enough to make the attempt too.  Even in the frigid temperatures up there, my heart warmed a bit. It was as if these guys included me into a club I didn't even knew I wanted to belong to.  Karl explained that we were only day hikers checking the mountain out, and somehow the mountaineers thought that was even cooler. Right away a discussion about gear (and showing off of ice axes) began. Secondly, one of the mountaineers pointed across the high plain and said, "Look, the mountain goats are back!" (Apparently the goats have been hanging around their camp all that day and night before, trying to lick the rocks that they peed on Yes, you read that right. The goats go for the salts in our pee.)  So I got to bound around in the snow for a bit watching a mountain goat and her baby for a while. And anyone that knows me, knows that any chance to hang out (safely) and take pictures of wildlife is going to make me happy, even if we were in a cloud that obstructed any other glacier/mountain view I had my goats.

The way back down is always easier on the mind, yet not so much on the knee joints (thank goodness for trekking poles). Plus, I got a few good photo sessions in with some hoary marmots and even a pika sighting!

Once again, even if the park's campsite might have been clearing out with the weekend ending, we found another National Forest Service Road and spent the night stealth camping in the rain for free. The next morning, we drove to the visitor center bright and early (and I use that as a phase only because there was nothing bright about the day yet) to inquire about good hikes to do in the rain. They say lessons are learned the hard way, and this is why one should ALWAYS stretch before and after ANY activity AND when one wakes up in the morning. Apparently, the 12+ miles the day before put a lot more strain on my body than I thought because on a perfectly smooth and even surface (the paved parking lot of the visitor center) just after Karl parked Ele and we got out and took less than 5 steps towards away from the car my left leg gave out. And I went down, HARD.  Thankfully, only Karl was there to witness my humiliation of a face plant (he thought I broke an ankle or something with how I crumpled to the ground but the only thing broken was a lil bit more of my pride. I did manage to help soak up some of the rain off the road where I fell though Just doing my part, ya know.  It was there and then that we decided that we needed a "take it easy" day, plus it was the 4th of July and a holiday.

So we hung out around Diablo Lake, 

found a fitting trail along Panther Creek for the day called "Fourth of July Pass", 

and then drove to check out the easy hike to Rainy Lake (perfectly named for a rainy day). 

Oddly enough, our "easy day" added up to about 9 miles still go figure.  Since it was still a holiday we decided to drive to one of the lil towns outside of the park and the park seemed to thank us  for visiting with a beautiful double rainbow in the valleys. Our destination, which is a popular stop for PCT thru hikers, Winthrop, is actually quite adorable with its western themed town, with its dusty roads and wooden boardwalks instead of sidewalks. We grabbed some grub and beers at the brewery there and to top it all off, we had ice cream from the sweet shop. Not a bad way to spend the 4th.

 When I started this blog post, I mentioned alternated plans had to be made due to the holiday weekend The original plan of our was always to go visit the town of Stehekin.  Cool Fact of the Day: the name Stehekin came from an Indian word meaning "the way through". The only problem is that there are no roads to this place, the only way you can get to there is by a 30+mile hike through the Cascade Mountain range or by taking a 4 and half hour boat ride along Lake Chelan (which is apparently the 3rd deepest lake in America) on the passenger ferry called the Lady of the Lake II (and you need to get reservations in advance on weekends)

Stehekin is a very remote lil community with about 80 year round residents, and everyone we spoke with said that if one want to get the feeling of "solitude" this is the perfect place to go. All campgrounds are first come, first serve and they boast about what you "won't find" in Stehekin: cell service, ATMs, groceries, or traffic. The way to get around this pristine and completely-disconnected-from-society lil town in the woods is by hiking, biking, or taking the shuttle.  Funny thing is that you have to pay (each way) for the shuttle service and most of our cash (remember, they boast about not having ATMs) was spent the first day with our round trip shuttle fees. Oh well, once the shuttle dropped us off at the last stop on the road, we heading for a hike to Agnes Gorge (2.5 miles one way ) and apparently my hiking speeds have improved because even at "Stacy Pace-y" we got back with enough time to do a second hike to Howard Lake (which used to be called Coon Lake, 1.3 miles  one way) before the shuttle came to pick us back up. The best thing about both of those hikes, is that we had the trails all to ourselves. I didn't have to worry about comparing myself to any "Olympic swimmers" there.

While waiting for the shuttle to take us back to camp we did meet a young thru hiker (doing the PCT) and an avid outdoor adventurer (just enjoying the park). Getting to meet people like them and share the passion for the places we just happened to cross paths on together is a great way to accentuate how cool this whole trip is.  

We slept well that night, only to wake early and determined. Even though we spent our cash on the shuttle the day before, we were told the "must do" thing in Stehekin was to visit the bakery and eat a cinnamon bun. So, up with the sunlight, we walked the 2 miles to the Stehekin Pastry Company, and I guess we walk faster when gooey goodies are the end goal because we arrived at the bakery even before it opened! One of the residents that worked at the bakery was super kind and  offered for us to come inside early even if everything wasn't out of the ovens yet, but we resisted temptation and just relaxed in the cool morning air, smelling the sweet scents of dough and cinnamon waft  out the windows. 

Once that sign flipped from "CLOSED" to "OPEN" we were drooling with anticipation, and as usual our eyes were bigger than our stomachs but what people said about the cinnamon buns was all lies they weren't just delicious, they were heavenly (especially when you are handed one just out of the oven, still so warm that the icing just cascades off the sides in puddles). Hungry now, aren't ya? We also snagged some of the "day old" bread to take back with us for later.

To walk off our sugar high and waste time until our departing boat ride back we continued our walk along the road past the bakery to visit historic sites like the Old Stehekin Schoolhouse and the Buckner Orchard with a lil nature trail of seeing Rainbow Falls in between. 

The schoolhouse was interesting and eerie at the same time, seeing the tiny 2 room building that would be the educational outlet for all the kids from K thru 8 in one place. It felt frozen in time (closed in '88, there were still school books and even a baby doll in some of the desks). 

The Buckner Orchard was along the same lines, as if you stepped into a history book frozen in time. Walking through what is now considered the Buckner Homestead Historic District, you are reminded by the self guided tour guide book to take only pictures and leave only footprints (the deer were certainly nibbling on the apples though!) 

And as for the Rainbow Falls, even though we did not catch any glimpse of rainbows in the morning light the mist from the plummeting waters was cool, refreshing, and sparkled with magic that can only be found in the outdoors.

Reality (a.k.a. our paid tickets back on the ferry) called.  We napped on the boat ride back with only the occasional sighting of wildlife along the shores to arouse us, jumped in the car and were off to the next adventure.  

P.S. we stayed that final night at a placed called Dry Falls State Park.  When it flowed, it was the largest waterfall on earth.  Check it out sometime. The bats flying around that night also provided wonderful entertainment. If you stood in the middle of the field, the bugs were attracted to you and therefore the bats would swoop down inches from your face to feast on the bug buffet you were providing them. It was awesome!

<3 S