Federation Forest State Park: Walking among the Elders

I'm still here! Sorry, it has been a while since my last post, although I'm still posting photos regularly on other social media platforms (see links at bottom of this post). Enjoy!

While I've spent the majority of my life in western Washington, I can still be surprised by places I've passed often but never visited. Recently I had the surprising pleasure of walking through some remnant old growth forest at Federation Forest State Park near Greenwater, Washington. 

I've seriously driven past this park hundreds of times on my way to skiing at Crystal Mountain or hiking at Mt. Rainier or Chinook Pass and beyond. But on this day, I drove alone to pick up my skis at Crystal Mountain (long story). So I decided to stop wherever on the way home and stretch my legs.

After my usual stop at charming Wapiti Woolies store in Greenwater for some hot tea (and a hat that was on sale), I drove a few miles west on Highway 410 to the park. Only one other car was in the lot when I pulled up; then I started walking through younger forest carpeted in extensive green moss.

Along the way, I spotted springtime treasures, like native trillium that's already past its spring peak in the lowlands.

 

Did I mention that it was a drippy, gently raining day in the mountains? (It was snowing up at Crystal Mountain a few thousand feet higher.) Our Pacific Northwest forests and their inhabitants love a quenching rain, especially the moss.

 As I neared the White River, I started seeing bigger, mossy-trunk trees scattered amongst the youngsters.

I found a side trail heading down to the river's edge and snapped a few shots of the fresh spring green trees across the river. 

While strolling with an eye to the forest floor as much as to the towering trees above, I spotted several tiny fairy slipper native Calypso orchids. I felt that same thrill as when spotting morel or chanterelle mushrooms.

Do you ever tell yourself you should think about turning around, but you're drawn onward? That's how I felt while walking through this forest. I lingered longer than I planned, enchanted by the lush green life all around and sensing secrets held by this ancient forest. And I felt bittersweet, knowing our whole region used to be blanketed by such forest, and today it's fragmented and so little remains.

After about an hour, I turned around and headed back to my car, with a couple other stops to make. I'd like to come back and spend more time on these gentle trails. Have you been? 

Do you have a favorite old growth forest in the region or beyond? I'd love to hear in a comment below!

Happy trails and thanks for visiting Pacific Northwest Seasons! In between blog posts, visit Pacific NW Seasons on FaceBook, Twitter, and Instagram for more Northwest photos and outdoors news.

 

 

Hiking through the Holidays in Mosslandia: Twin Falls

 

Although the days are getting longer (and colder) now that the Winter Solstice has passed, it's still what we call the "dark days" here in Washington.

Our chilly wet weather is about to turn into a possible record-breaking cold snap, with likely snow. Local moss, in its multitude of varieties and very happy from our wet autumn, will go dormant from the freeze. So, too, will some Mossbacks who live here.

But many of us will be outside reveling in winter. 

Last week on a bone-chilling rainy/snowy day, I dashed east of Seattle into the foothills near North Bend for a short but sweet hike to Twin Falls (which is actually three waterfalls). On this rainy Wednesday in the middle of the day, I only saw two other hikers on this normally super popular trail.

The Twin Falls trail skirts close to the South Fork Snoqualmie River

Besides it being a week day, another reason I had the trail mostly to myself was, of course, the steady, hovering-just-above-freezing rain. 

As I tramped onward, just happy to be out in such lush Northwest beauty, the rain turned to big fat wet snowflakes. 

I kept on thinking I'd turn around because it was so wet despite my rain pants and Gore-Tex shell, but I couldn't stop until I got to the main bridge over the waterfalls. It was too lovely out there.

By this time, snow was covering the bridge, although thankfully it wasn't slippery.

On this trip, I bypassed the lower waterfall viewpoint deck. But I did stop to admire lots of moss and the huge old growth Douglas fir along the trail.

After about 90 minutes of hiking in nonstop rain/snow/rain, at places the trail seemed like a side channel to the river.

Because there was such a healthy flow in the river and I had the trail to myself, I did a few detours down to the river's edge to shoot a few clips from my smartphone. 

By the time I got back to the car, my jeans were damp beneath my rain pants and so too was my jacket layered under a shell. But I just slipped off those outer layers and turned up the heat in my car as I drove home, thoroughly exhilarated from "forest bathing" in solitude. This is a rare treat anymore near Seattle.

Happy holidays!

Happy trails and thanks for visiting Pacific Northwest Seasons! In between blog posts, visit Pacific NW Seasons on FaceBook, Twitter, and Instagram for more Northwest photos and outdoors news.

Autumn in the Pacific Northwest: Huckleberries, Larches, and Good Rain

There's something indefinably magic about autumn that makes it my favorite time of year. And this year, we all can use some magic, right?

While it's a drippy rainy evening here in Seattle as I write this, we've had some brilliant fall color and weather. Our first frost is expected in a few days.

People this year are flocking and recreating outside in our forests and parks like never before. So today's post is about getting outside and celebrating late summer/autumn beauty in this splendid region.

Early Autumn

By late August, you can usually feel a hint of autumn at higher elevations in the Cascades. The sun travels lower across the sky, vine maples are starting to show a hint of color, and pesky bugs are no longer an issue.

Just before Labor Day weekend, I joined a friend and her daughter for a weekday hike near Snoqualmie Pass in the Mountains to Sound Greenway, less than an hour east of Seattle. We got an early start and felt a morning fall chill that later transitioned to mellow warmth.  

Within a couple hours we made it up to tranquil Mason Lake, where huckleberries were starting to pop out on shrubs around the lake. While sitting on the shore of this mountain lake in the soft warm sunshine, all that 2020 anxiety drained away for a spell.

 

But this being 2020, heavy smoke from the raging West Coast wildfires kept us inside for almost 2 weeks starting Labor Day weekend. I was lucky to get out a day ahead of the smoke to kayak off Vashon Island.

Early sign of fall on the beach

When things cleared up later in the month, I caught an early morning ferry to meet my aunt and friends for morning coffee at Fort Worden in Port Townsend, Washington.

Olympic Mountains, predawn

After an hour sitting outdoors in distanced chairs, sipping hot drinks, and enjoying excellent conversation, we walked around Fort Worden State Park on what was an absolutely stellar, crisp early autumn day. I kept exclaiming out loud, "This is a perfect fall day!"

Historic Fort Worden building

And then there were huckleberries. I joined a small group of lovely women for a book club hike into the Alpine Lakes Wilderness to discuss Twelve Moons by the late great poet Mary Oliver. Although the trail was plenty busy, we managed to spread out and stayed mostly masked.

Near the top of Mt. Sawyer, we filled emptied water bottles with huckleberries after discussing the lyrical poems. With a clearing sky and all that mountain fresh air too, it was another perfect fall day. (And the huckleberry tarts I made later were pretty wonderful too.)

Evergreen state

 October

And then there were golden larches. I'm addicted to seeing these deciduous conifers each October at their peak brilliance. This subalpine species only grows in a limited range, between elevations from 5,800 to 7,500 feet on the sunnier eastern crest of the Cascades.

On a midweek hike to Ingalls Pass in the Teanaway region near Cle Elum, Washington, I met up with my high school backpacking buddy Alice. Many years had passed since we tramped together along a trail, so it was a special day for me.

Mt. Stuart

In early October, even on a Wednesday trail traffic was steady. We both felt the elevation as we trudged upward a few thousand feet. But as soon as we topped out at the pass, glowing golden larches appeared everywhere and any dragginess we felt disappeared.

We hiked onward through and past groves of vibrant trees in the basin below. Just an awesome day!

Closer to Seattle, a couple girlfriends and I snuck out for a chilly, misty morning hike recently on a popular trail west of Snoqualmie Pass.

While it didn't rain on us that morning, by afternoon the next storm arrived. Our thirsty plants and forests throughout the region soaked up the much needed moisture. 

 

This is what we call a good rain. As I write this, snow is predicted even in the lower mountain passes later this week.

But where I physically feel the change of seasons most is during weekly brief open water "wild" swims in Puget Sound. When my plunge buddy and I started in January, the air and water were downright frigid. Then this past summer, we'd sit in the warm sun on the beach afterwards.

With October, we've been greeted by wind, rain, and sometimes fog, like in the short clip below right before our plunge yesterday. 

 

And yes, I think standing in the rain before plunging in the cold sea is actually pretty wonderful. :)

I hope you, too, can get out and revel in the changing season. 

Happy trails and thanks for visiting Pacific Northwest Seasons! In between blog posts, visit Pacific NW Seasons on FaceBook, Twitter, and Instagram for more Northwest photos and outdoors news.  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Pandemic 2020: Re-emerging, Getting Outdoors, and Recreating Responsibly

 With national parks and forests, state parks, and city parks closed for a couple months this spring, many of us urban dwellers were pining to get outdoors for real. Although things started reopening in May, I decided to re-emerge even more gradually.

While Washington was in lockdown for over 2 months, I did a lot of walking/exploring close to home. I didn't fill up my car gas tank from late March to late May. But in June, well, Juneuary weather or not, I finally started to stray farther afield.

It has been beyond wonderful to see some favorite places/trails again and explore a few new places, while striving to recreate responsibly (physical distancing as much as possible and masking up around others). And honestly, these outings are a shred of normalcy in these strange days. 

The First Escape from Seattle

My first foray outside the Seattle city limits in over 3 months was a trip to the Issaquah Alps on a rainy, stormy (thunder and lightning) morning. With the sometimes scary weather (one bolt of lightning was so close it sounded like three gunshots in quick succession overhead), we only saw a couple other joggers in two hours on the trail.

The vivid spring green was a welcome dose of Vitamin N.

The Birds and Me in the Rain

A week later I took a solo trip up to the Skagit River Delta for another walk in a driving rain. The marshy river delta was rich green with late spring, and I walked along levees in solitude, passing a few birds hunkered down (a great blue heron, swallows, and red-winged blackbirds are what I could identify).

I reveled in the escape from traffic noises and the wide open, rain-soaked space.  An occasional distraction were a few jets from nearby Naval Air Station Whidbey Island passing overhead.

The Scenic Drive

About a week later I drove even farther north to Bellingham to take my kayak for repairs. On the scenic drive home, I stopped for a hike off lovely Chuckanut Drive that winds along the sea. 

This bluebird day was much needed. The view shown below is reason #237 why I love living in my home state. I also stopped at Snow Goose Produce on the way home for fresh wild, local shrimp.

The Getaway

Just a couple days later, my first overnight away from Seattle since late December was way overdue. I returned to Port Townsend, where I walked in the woods with friends and helped my aunt celebrate her birthday (all outdoors of course). Although Anderson Lake south of Port Townsend is closed, I snuck in a 30-minute walk skirting the south lake shoreline.

Around Port Townsend, it was quieter than it would normally be nearing peak tourist season. My lodging for the night was the historic and comfortable Palace Hotel on Water Street, where I had a view of the Keystone ferry to Whidbey Island skimming across the Salish Sea outside my window. I brought greens from my garden and other provisions to share with my aunt in her back yard rather than trying to dine out.

There were definitely people around town, but it wasn't crowded by any means. Sunday morning, however, when I stopped for tea and a late breakfast from Cafe Tenby (formerly Pippa's Real Tea), a line gathered outside. And on the drive back to Seattle Sunday evening, there was definitely a wait for the ferry.

The Real Deal

And finally, for the first time since...last fall, a real hike this past weekend. We strayed farther east up the I-90 corridor toward Snoqualmie Pass for a 2,300-foot grind upward through thick, mossy second-growth forest into sub-alpine old-growth forest with raindrop-kissed wildflowers.

As we ascended higher through the rain, the foggy/misty forest was especially magical. In the background, silhouettes of trees hovered like benign ghosts.

When we came to a dicey snow bridge crossing an avalanche gully, we decided to call it a day and head back down. It was 4.5 hours of hiking, with almost 5,000 feet of elevation gain and loss, which was fine for three rusty hikers.

Thankfully the rain kept the crowds down on the trail, and most everyone we passed was thoughtful about distancing. (It was the seventh weekend in a row here with rain, which a true Mossback doesn't mind.)

So it's not completely back to normal, but it's good to be back outdoors. Next up, a great way to get outside and distance: kayaking.

Always trying to get the shot.

How about you? Are you getting out and being/feeling safe?

Happy trails and thanks for visiting Pacific Northwest Seasons! In between blog posts, visit Pacific NW Seasons on FaceBook, Twitter, and Instagram for more Northwest photos and outdoors news. 

Hiking Mt. Rainier: Glaciers, Meadows, and No Bears

This is the second of two posts about a Labor Day weekend backpack trip in Mt. Rainier National Park. Read the first post here.

Day 2
There's nothing quite like waking up at the edge of an alpine meadow on a mountain as the new day is still gathering. 

After backpacking up above Spray Park on Mt. Rainier, I awaken before sunrise the next morning and crawl out of my tent, camera in hand. Because it's all about the light.

My hiking buddies are still asleep, and the morning quiet is a lovely balm to my city-addled soul. I snap shots as the wispy clouds above turn rosy pink, well before the sun crests the ridge behind our campsite.

By about 8 a.m. we're all up and melting snow for coffee and tea. (The melt stream from the snowfield nearby stopped flowing overnight when the temps dropped.)

Fueled up from breakfast, we head up the rocky slope towards the Flett Glacier for even more expansive views. Not that many years ago, this would have still been snow-covered in late summer.

 

Echo Rock is the jagged formation to the left.

After an hour+ of scrambling up the sometimes steep incline, we top out at a ridge above the base of the Flett Glacier, where we see a couple hikers making their way down the snowfield above us. We haven't seen anyone else since yesterday afternoon, and we're surprised. So we don't have the mountain to ourselves? :)

Below us, more hikers with skis and boots strapped to their packs are heading up toward the glacier.

Dave, who climbed Rainier from this direction a few decades ago, is shocked at the loss of glacier coverage high on the mountain, compared to when he climbed the route back in the 1980s.

After a snack, we scramble down to the edge of the glacier and relax by the vivid blue melt pool before starting back down to camp. Above us, clouds bunch up, spread out, swirl, and dissipate in a variety of shapes and formations.  At over 7,000 feet high on the mountain, we're literally in the clouds, off and on.

Views north and northeast included Glacier Peak, Mt. Baker, and the Stuart Range

Chilling above the blue pool at the base of Flett Glacier

Observation Rock enshrouded in mist.

The beauty of a layover day is having no set schedule. We scramble leisurely around the rocks, taking in the drama of the stark volcanic landscape above timberline. And although they're not visible in the shot above, a few backcountry skiers were having fun getting late (or really early) season turns on the soft suncupped snow.

As we meander back down the mountain to our camp, numerous other hikers/skiers are just coming up and setting up camps. Up here the rocky "trail" is marked by cairns between snowfields.

Instead of watching the sun set and the stars pop out in the night sky like the night before, a thick fog rolls in, driving us into our tents not long after dinner. A few hours later the wind picks up and blows so hard that it pushes in the walls of my tent during strong gusts.

About 2 a.m. the rain fly starts flapping wildly, and I quickly throw on a parka and dash outside to tighten it up so it won't blow away up the mountain.  But for being outside in the middle of the night, I'm rewarded with a brilliant starry sky, crisscrossed by the Milky Way straight overhead.

Day 3
No sunrise or pink sky shots on our last morning on the mountain. A thick, rain-like mist envelops us while we have breakfast and break camp. Out come rain shells for the first hour of hiking back down to the lower meadows.

As we start passing hikers coming up, everyone tells us about the bears they saw snarfing down low-lying huckleberries near the trail. One guy even shows us some shots on his camera. Sigh, that is the closest we come to seeing any bear.

It's hard to leave the high country meadows and plunge back into the woods below, but nevertheless, the thought of a hot shower when I get home lures me down the mountain.

Good turns, heavy gear

By mid afternoon we're back at Mowich Lake, where the parking lot is much more full on Sunday than when we arrived on Friday morning. I pull a big bag of chips out of the van and share them freely with other hikers in the parking lot who've also just come down the mountain. This is a way to become popular quickly. :)

Many thanks to my friends Andy and Mark for the invite to poach on their backcountry permit obtained months in advance. I've really enjoyed doing more backpacking this past summer than in many years. And Mt. Rainier is an ultimate destination, whether you do the whole 93-mile Wonderland Trail loop, or a quick weekend like we did.

Now I'm already plotting longer trips for next summer...


Happy trails and thanks for visiting Pacific Northwest Seasons! 
  
In between blog posts, visit Pacific NW Seasons on FaceBook, Twitter, and Instagram for more Northwest photos and outdoors news. 

When You Go 

Yours truly in vintage 1990s Patagonia anorak.

To camp in Mt. Rainier National Park backcountry, you need a permit, which you can read about here. With the explosive growth in our region, and increasing popularity of hiking, be extra careful to avoid trampling fragile alpine vegetation, and always leave no trace that you were there.