Wenatchee Weekend: Bicycling the Joe Miller Loop

Sometimes you just have to follow the sun. With our decidedly unsummer-like weather this summer in western Washington, I decide in about, oh, 0.05 second to accept a former college roomie's invite to Wenatchee for the weekend. That's east of the Cascade Mountains, the dividing line between cloudy and sunny this summer in the Pacific Northwest.

In case you don’t already know, the greater Wenatchee area and valley stretching up to Leavenworth is an outdoors lover’s Mecca. (Beautiful Lake Chelan is also not too far away.) Think great downhill, backcountry, and cross-country skiing in the winter. Warmer weather brings ideal conditions for rock climbing, hiking, river rafting, kayaking, waterskiing, bicycling, and more in a warmer, drier climate than the “Coast.”

No wonder my friends who live there are all fit, healthy, and happy.

As with many of my friends, Linda and I bonded over a shared love of skiing and outdoor adventures. So I’m not surprised when she and her husband propose an afternoon bicycle ride.

Since temps are expected to be over 90ᵒF (a shock to my mossback constitution!), Don suggests we ride a route known locally as the Joe Miller loop, much of which is over 1,000 above the valley floor. When riding counter-clockwise from Wenatchee, this roughly 25-mile loop rises steadily, then steeply up to a plateau in Stemilt Basin.

Many riders go clockwise to avoid the steep hill, but we cheat and drive up to where the route levels out atop the plateau, park the truck, and then start riding. Up here the views up to forested Mission Ridge and down toward the arid Wenatchee Valley are expansive and awesome.

This is orchard country, prime land for growing cherries, apples, pears, peaches, and apricots. So we start out under bright, intense sun on a gentle grade past trees heavy with fat red cherries ready for harvest. To our right the basin drops toward a farm.




“There’s an unofficial longboard race going on, so watch out and keep off the road for a bit,” says a woman standing on the side of the road just as we’re starting up the first hill. We pull over into the shade of ponderosa pines beside the road to watch (ah, relief from the sun, which is zapping me already). Pretty soon leather and helmet-clad guys go whizzing past, bent forward like Apolo Anton Ohno in a speed ice skating race. Those dudes are going scary fast!



After we cycle a bit higher and hit a few sharp switchbacks, a big pickup drives past piled full of the racers heading back up to the starting line. I'm glad to have an excuse for another break (it's the heat!) when we ascend to their start, where racers are lined up for the next run.




"Racers ready!" cries the starter. And they're off in a blur of leather and wheels, tailed by a chaser. A couple more tag-alongs try to join in, but the starter yells them off. "Dudes! Stop! No more!"

For the next half hour we meander along a winding country road past orchards, pine forests, and a few nice views of irrigation lakes and the dusty brown Columbia Basin steppes beyond. Sure there are more than a few potholes, but that’s okay because it’s so nice to be riding along a quiet, scenic road.



Then we emerge back into more orchards and agricultural land. Bucolic farms spread out in patchworks around the valley below, with snow-covered Glacier Peak off in the distance to the northwest.



“Here’s the biggest downhill stretch," says Don. We coast down the sinuous road, hands on the brakes around tight curves, until we come to an intersection with a cute little white clapboard church on a corner. Then we turn right on Joe Miller Road.




From here the grades lessen, but it’s still nice and easy cruising through Malaga past farms and small ranches with horses grazing beneath stunning Columbia River basalt ridges.



Within a few miles we end up down at the Malaga-Alcoa Highway, which flattens out and travels along the Columbia River. Until we got to the highway, I think only two trucks passed us in over an hour of riding! Our last few miles along the highway back to Wenatchee are a slog under the hot sun.



Back in town, I have to rest in the shade to cool down, gulping cold water while Don and Linda drive up to get the truck where we started. This Westside gal is not used to the heat! But a little too much heat and lots of sweat is worth it for this great ride. I earned the calories for my wonderful dinner this evening at Shakti's.

When You Go
If you can, I recommend riding this loop in the morning during the summer. In the fall and spring, I’m sure it’s a spectacular ride. By driving up to the top of the plateau, we cut our ride to a tad over 19 miles. Here’s a map of a slightly longer version of the route, starting in East Wenatchee across the Columbia River.

Here's the route as we did it: Head south out of Wenatchee up the Squilchuck Road towards Mission Ridge. About 4 to 5 miles on, turn left on Wenatchee Heights Road and go up the steep hill. We parked and started at the top of the plateau across from funky sign pictured to the right. This road turns into Stemilt Loop Road, which we followed across Stemilt Basin for about 10 miles to the little white Baptist church. Take a right down to Joe Miller Road, winding down several miles to West Malaga Road, which we followed to Malaga-Alcoa Highway (mostly flat along the river), and then back to Wenatchee along the highway.

Northwest Flavors: Wild Spot Prawns

After I read Fast Food Nation  I didn’t eat a hamburger for over a year.  And I’ve learned how truly harmful shrimp “farms” are, with tales of environmental degradation, toxic pesticides, destruction of small local shrimping operations, and even suspicious death of some opposed to huge shrimp farms. It’s not a pretty picture, people!

But here in the Pacific Northwest we have beautiful wild spot prawns and shrimp. Former Gourmet magazine editor Barry Estabrook is on to our not-so-secret and raves about our Northwest prawns. You can’t get them year-round, but that makes them all the more special when they are available, which is usually late spring to mid to late summer, about two months.



Today I picked up some spot prawns at Snow Goose Produce in Conway, Washington, up in the Skagit flats, fresh from Rosario Strait in the San Juan Islands. If you’re more determined, you can get a permit to go shrimping yourself in Puget Sound, as Langdon Cook chronicles on his wonderful blog Fat of the Land.

It goes without saying that these fresh, local prawns tasted incredible; they were sweet without any sweetening added. I treated them very simply, and the result was, I must boast, excellent. Here’s my “recipe,” although I can’t give you specific amounts—just go with your instincts for how many you will be serving.



Wild Spot Prawns Linguine with Garlic and Lemon

Wild spot prawns or shrimp (about 4 or 5 per person, depending on size)
olive oil
minced fresh garlic
minced shallots or small cipolline onion
fresh-squeezed lemon juice
touch of sea salt
fresh linguine
fresh grated parmesan
minced chives

Cook up the linguine al dente (I used a mixture of spinach and plain), drain and drizzle with a bit of olive oil, divvy individual servings into wide bowls, and set aside.

Heat a sauté pan, and then add enough olive oil to cover the pan surface.

Sauté the shallots or onion until soft, then add the garlic and sauté for another minute, stirring nonstop.

Add the shelled prawns and sauté until pink (but not any longer!), then pour in lemon juice and stir for another few seconds to heat. Mine were pre-cooked so I just reheated in the pan for a bit.

Spoon the shrimp mixture over the pasta, salt to taste, grate some good fresh parmesan on top, and sprinkle with fresh chives.

Enjoy with a fresh green salad and a crisp, dry white wine.



Have you ever gone shrimping? Do you have a favorite way to prepare fresh shrimp? Do tell under Comments below.

Bon appetit!

Where to Go
Check your local fish monger for wild spot prawn availability. Any American- or Canadian-sourced wild prawn is relatively safe because of our stricter regulations about reducing by-catch. Wild prawns from other parts of the world are not so well regulated and therefore suspect.

Sea Kayaking Northern Skagit Bay: Seals, Sunshine, and Sweet Paddling

Not much more than an hour north of Seattle, northern Skagit Bay is a marvelous area to enjoy some beautiful scenery, spy wildlife, and explore undeveloped tree-fringed shorelines. What more could you ask for in a day sea kayaking?

I blogged about sea kayaking in Skagit Bay last year, but I can’t resist writing about this great place again after the exhilarating day I just spent there.

With strong currents from a large tidal exchange today, we almost go to Bowman Bay instead, which is outside Deception Pass. The narrow passages on either side of Hope Island in Skagit Bay can be tricky because of swift currents, tide rips, and swirly squirrely water.

We want to try something a little different than the usual loop around Hope and Skagit Islands, so after launching in calm water at Snee-Oosh Beach, we kayak directly west across the bay to Whidbey Island. Along the northeastern Whidbey shoreline, thick green forest crowds close to the water’s edge. The eelgrass and bull kelp we glide over sway in the current; this is valuable habitat for Dungeness crab and fish. I catch a glimpse of a belly-up crab half buried in the sand beneath some long flat strands of eelgrass in the clear, shallow water.



“We’ve caught a couple big crabs, it’s going to be a good dinner tonight!” says a woman we pass who is crabbing, ankle deep in the water with net baskets in hand.

As we round a small, rocky beach point, a shiny gray lump close to the water moves slightly: it's a baby seal. It turns to watch us with huge dark eyes and glances toward the tideline a few feet below, as if deciding whether to slip into the water and disappear.

“There’s mom,” says Julie. An adult seal pops its head above the water several yards behind us, clearly anxious we're there. We paddle away quickly. I've been told not to scare young seals into the water because they don't have enough insulation to withstand too much time in the chilly waters of Puget Sound.

Exploring Cornet Bay is our goal, but as we round Hoypus Point toward Deception Pass the wind becomes too fierce to battle. It’s an afternoon westerly, which the funnels through the pass like a wind tunnel. Instead we pull up to a beach across from Fidalgo Island, with Mount Erie looming close to the north.



With the often gray and dreary summer we’re having, I bask in the gorgeous sunny day here on this beach. Glacier-capped Mount Baker (or Koma Kulshan as the natives called it) seems to float above the Cascades on the eastern horizon, and to the south a forest-covered Goat Island rises gently in the distance, framing our view.



Since I’m trying to have gluten-free days along with meatless days, I must say I packed quite a tasty bean salad along with the berries I picked yesterday.



“Let’s head straight over the Hope Island,” suggests Julie when the breeze dies down. Boat traffic isn’t too bad considering it’s a beautiful summer day, so we paddle southeast, aiming for a beach near the northwestern side of this lovely island state park. I love paddling close to the island shorelines here, where the rocky bluffs are topped with moss, lichen, and occasional wildflowers.



Time flies when you’re outside doing something you love on a brilliant blue sky day. We catch the flood tide back to Snee-Oosh beach about 4 hours after we started. While it’s always a chore to lug the heavy kayaks up from the beach and onto the car, somehow the boats always seem lighter after a great paddle.

When You Go
There are lots of places to launch your kayak around this area, but Snee-oosh Beach is convenient, with no parking fees. Drive to LaConner, WA, cross the Rainbow Bridge over Swinomish Slough, then take a left on Pull-and-be-Damned Road (isn't that wonderful name for a road, or anything?) to Snee-oosh Road on the bay. As soon as the road drops down to the water level, take a quick left onto the dirt road to the boat lauch/parking area. Check the tides before you go since the currents can get pretty strong around the islands here and a low tide means tideflats that can restrict travel to the south (and make for some mucky walking on the beach down to the water’s edge.)

Northwest Flavors: Dreamland's Creamy, Dreamy Hummos

For you hummos lovers like me, isn’t it a revelation to find a truly great hummos—the kind that sends you scampering to the store for more and more?

After sampling many brands of packaged hummos over the years from stores up and down the West Coast (as well as experimenting in my kitchen), I keep on coming back to Dreamland hummos.

“This is our secret,” says Akram Joudi, owner of Dreamland, a Seattle-area family business that makes this fabulous hummos and other superb Middle Eastern specialty foods, “we make it the way we eat at home.”

I must confess—I’m addicted to their roasted garlic hummos. It’s unusually light and creamy, with a slight tang lurking under the layered flavors of pureed chick peas, tahini, lemon juice, olive oil, salt, and garlic. Each container is studded with a few caramelized cloves of roasted garlic, like little prizes. I suspect Akram’s wife Lamis, who makes the hummos and baba ghanoush, blends it a long time to achieve the almost frothy texture that melts quickly on the tongue.

Apparently others are addicted as well (including Seattle Times food writer/blogger Nancy Leson) because Dreamland’s hummos and baba ghanoush routinely sell out within a day or so of their delivery to my local QFC. Many times I’ve dashed in to grab some, only to find the deli case full of mediocre nationally distributed brands, bereft of Dreamland. I finally got wise and asked the store which day Dreamland delivers their fresh batch each week.

“These are our grandparent’s recipes. They were not in the food business, but we knew they were doing the best (food),” Akram tells me with obvious pride. His family immigrated to the U.S. from Lebanon in 1986. Fortunately for me and many other Northwesterners, they came to Seattle, where they had an excellent connection in the developing food scene. Saleh of the much beloved former Saleh al Lago restaurant is the brother of Lamis.

“We started our business on May 15, 1986, to be exact,” says Akram with a slightly nostalgic smile. “I remember the day.”



Akram is a handsome, dignified man with a thick silver hair and light beard. He wears a neatly pressed suit jacket as he gives me a tour of their small but clean and spacious plant in Shoreline. He has graciously allowed me to stop by for a visit, where each day a crew of family members and a few other workers carefully prepare fresh batches of delectable Mediterranean dips, salads, and falafel pita sandwiches.



“We start by making our food from scratch. For the baba ghanoush we roast, not bake, the eggplant, and we soak and cook the beans for the hummos and salads. Everything is all natural, with no additives.” he explains.



Like he said, just like they would eat at home.

We walk past a row of people chopping fresh vegetables and packaging salads in small containers. “This is Bibi, my sister-in-law, who’s in charge of the 25 types of salads and pita sandwiches.” Bibi lets me take her picture but tells me with a laugh to make sure it’s a good shot, for her husband. I immediately sense a friendly, down-to-earth woman when she smiles and tells me the picture is fine.



Lamis comes in every morning from 5 until 11 a.m. to make the hummos and baba, but she’s gone by the time I arrive. I don’t dare ask for their recipe or technique, but I notice big food processors in which she no doubt carefully blends the tasty dips.

So Dreamland really is all in the family, which is clearly important to Akram.

“My wife and I have been married for 46 years—the first and only marriage for both of us.” Their eldest son Walid works in the family business and will take it over some day. “Maybe a year, maybe 15 years,” says Akram, who tells me he’s 70. To me he doesn’t look much over 60.

Since the food they concoct at Dreamland is so wonderful, I ask Akram about the food at their extended family gatherings, which includes more than 30 people from several generations. I envision a feast of savory Lebanese family dishes. “Do you eat these particular foods?”




“Yes, but these are side dishes.” Akram tells me. “Last Sunday we had a family barbeque, with everything on the grill – chicken, lamb. Another main dish we do is roasted chicken filled with rice, meat, spices, and pine nuts.”

This is a family that knows how to eat well. I’m just happy that they make and sell some of their treasured recipes for the rest of us.

Do you have a favorite brand or recipe for hummos? Please chime in with a comment below.

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Where to Go
Dreamland’s hummus, baba, and their pita falafel sandwiches are available in most QFC stores in the greater Seattle area as well as at Metropolitan Markets and a couple Thriftway stores. Some stores get shipments twice a week, and others just once a week. The salads, which are sold as self-serve, take-out deli food, can be found around the Puget Sound region at Town and Country Markets (such as in Shoreline and on Bainbridge Island).

Mountains to Sound Greenway: Hiking Cedar Butte

How is it that I’ve been hiking the I-90 corridor between Seattle and Snoqualmie Pass for years and never been up Cedar Butte until today? This is a great little hike!

Maybe it’s because this hike is shorter (about 3 or 4 miles round trip) and not as flashy as nearby Mt. Si and Rattlesnake Ledge with dramatic views or Twin Falls with gorgeous waterfalls. But while this relatively easy hike is one of the least visited in the Mountains to Sound Greenway, it’s not for lack of beauty. And if you’re hiking with small kids or still working your way into decent shape, this is the hike for you.

We were initially heading to Rattlesnake Ledge, but the rain gives us pause. (Yes, while the rest of the U.S. is sweltering with heat, we’re still waiting for our real summer to arrive here in western Washington.) Andy and I are a bit concerned about the slick rocks atop Rattlesnake Ledge with an 8-year-old along today. People have accidentally slipped off the cliffs to their demise up there.

“How about Cedar Butte today?” I suggest when we all meet at the Mercer Island Park-n-Ride. Everyone is game for this switch, especially since the trailhead for Cedar Butte is just 50 yards or so away from the Rattlesnake Ledge parking area.

In a steady summer rain, we set off eastward on the flat, wide Iron Horse Trail for about a half mile until we see the unobtrusive cutoff for Cedar Butte. (Keep your eyes on the right side of the trail for the junction.) Stepping off the Iron Horse Trail and onto Cedar Butte trail is like entering a lush, enchanted forest. Profuse greenery (thimbleberries, ferns, salmonberries, and more) lines the narrow trail as it winds gently upward through the second-growth forest.




For the first half mile or so we pass through mostly deciduous alder forest, but as we climb higher it transitions to more open, mixed conifers. Wisps of Spanish moss (or is it net lichen?) hang from tree branches over a carpet of light green moss that blankets the forest floor.



“Isn’t that a native orchid?” Andy points out a small, off-white, multi- blossomed flower shooting up off a decomposing downed tree trunk. It has that waxy orchid look. What a treat to see! Unfortunately all my shots of this delicate treasure are slightly out of focus. (Since I originally posted this, several naturalists have identified it as a pinesap, monotropa hypopithys, which is not an orchid.)



While most of the hike up to the summit is in forest, at the end of a switchback about a mile up the trail we stop for a peak-a-boo view of Rattlesnake Lake and the ridge beyond. On a misty day like today, the turquoise blue lake looks like a remote mountain lake instead of a heavily used park. I’ve also never seen the lake so full.



Before we know it, we’ve reached the top, where a group of scouts are just starting down (the only other hikers we’ve seen so far). Really it’s just a small clearing in the forest with a panoramic view north up the Middle Fork valley of the Snoqualmie River. I try to ignore I-90 in the foreground, and at least we’re far enough away that traffic noise doesn’t reach here.



“Hey, it’s a hummingbird!” cries Lena. I catch a blur of reddish-brown feathers, a Rufous hummingbird. We watch it darting quickly up towards the treetops and wonder what it’s looking for up here. In retrospect, I realize it's probably dining on the unpleasantly abundant mosquitoes, which are feasting on my exposed hands until I douse them with repellent.

By the time we get back to the Iron Horse Trail junction, the rain has subsided and the slugs have decided it’s a good time to cross the trail. We help a few on their way so they won’t get crushed by bicyclists, including a native banana slug sliming its way across the gravel trail. (If I were a slug, I think the gravel would be unpleasant on my belly.) Lena is scouring the salmonberry shrubs along the trail for ripe berries, which are plentiful and tasty right now.



Just before we load back into the SUV for the ride home, Lena instructs everyone on the proper method for discouraging ‘skeeters from following us into the car. Enjoy the Eebee Geebee!



When You Go
Cedar Butte is about 35 miles east of Seattle in the Cascade foothills. Drive east on I-90 from Seattle, take the 436th exit (Exit 32), and drive south to the end of the road and the Rattlesnake Lake/Cedar River Watershed Visitor Center parking lot. The Iron Horse Trail starts on the far eastern edge of this parking complex. Elevation gain to the top of Cedar Butte is about 900 feet, and the trail has been regraded in the last few years to be much less steep than it used to be. You need a Washington State Discover Pass or Northwest Forest Pass (good for both Oregon and Washington national forests) to park here or you could be fined.