Matthew Singer

Category: Travel Stories

  • Roman Nose Lakes

    Roman Nose Lakes

    Upper Roman Nose Lake with Roman Nose peak rising behind it.
    Upper Roman Nose Lake with Roman Nose peak rising behind it.

    Last year, I tried to take my family up to Harrison Lake to enjoy a true alpine zone. When we got close, we saw that the lake had been closed due to problematic bear activity. I would have still been ok hiking up there, but my parents were wary, so we came up with an alternative: Roman Nose. There used to be a road connecting the Pack River to Roman Nose lakes on the other side of the ridge. That road is no longer passable except by ATV or mountain bike. We found that out the hard way. On the bright side, we ended up discovering a great patch of huckleberries and came home with almost a full gallon of them.

    This year, I wanted to make up for last year’s shortcomings and head straight for the Roman Nose Lakes. Besides, Erin is not yet ready for the level of difficulty of the Harrison Lake hike. But Roman Nose is an easy hike at just under 3-miles round trip to one lake and not much elevation gain. The plan was to leave early and get to the trailhead before noon. We’d hike out to the upper lake where Erin and Clara and my parents would hang out for a while, and I would continue up to the summit of Roman Nose for some sweet panoramic vistas. Then we’d stop and pick more huckleberries on the way down and end the day with a nice dinner in Sandpoint.

    Of course, nothing ever goes according to plan. Here’s what really happened. We left the house after 9:00, which would have put us at the lakes around noon. But along the way, Clara needed to be fed. Actually, Clara was sleeping just fine in her carseat, but Erin needed to feed her to feel comfortable. So we stopped at the Coeur d’Alene Casino for about an hour while she nursed. We got back on the road and made it smoothly into Sandpoint and continued north to the road accessing the lakes.

    Now, if you look at Google Maps as well as the maps on a Garmin GPS, there appears to be three roads that lead up to the lakes. One of these is the correct route. My GPS chose one of the alternates, which if maintained would be the shortest and fastest choice. However, about 3 miles before the routes converged near the destination, that road becomes washed out to the point where I’d be wary of even bringing a heavy duty SUV. So, we got close, but had to turn around and backtrack, during which we had to stop again to nurse and change a diaper. Luckily there was a geocache hidden by a stream crossing, so we stopped there for a while. I pulled out the hiking guide book and sought out the recommended directions up to the lake. Of course, I didn’t quite read them correctly and thought that the road we wanted was just at the base of the road we were currently on. As we started up that road, I found the correct road on the GPS, so we turned around again and headed for the right road.

    Of the three routes up the mountain, the correct one is the longest and furthest away. But otherwise, it’s a well-maintained and relatively smooth road, at least compared to the unmaintained roads. But then, Roman Nose Lakes is a highly used area, so I was expecting the access to be easy. We finally made it up to the parking area by 4:00 pm. At this point in the day, I wasn’t going to be making any runs for the summit, and I had to make a convincing point to even hike out to the upper lake. But we did, and it was awesome. Erin made it with no problems and Clara enjoyed her first hike. With all of the stops for feedings and diaper changes, we made it back to the car by 7:30 and made it back into Sandpoint too late to dine at our preferred restaurant. And, we didn’t get to collect any huckleberries.

    Despite our misadventures, the Idaho Selkirks are awesome mountains, and I do regret not having spent more time up there in the past four years. I look at these last two trips as learning experiences. I now know how to get to my destinations, and traveling that long of a distance with an infant will require an overnight stay if we are to get anything accomplished. In the mean time, I really want to go back and stand on top of Roman Nose and hike to Harrison Lake and perhaps also stand atop Harrison Peak. I want to backpack in to some of the other lakes where the hikes are too long for just a day. And perhaps maybe I can get back up there without Erin and the baby and accomplish one of those goals before winter hits this year.

    FYI: The correct direction to Roman Nose Lakes is to take Snow Creek Road. Even Google Maps wants to route up Ruby Creek Road, but this is impassible without an ATV.

    [map style=”width: auto; height:400px; margin:20px 0px 20px 0px; border: 1px solid black;” gpx=”http://www.mineral2.com/wp-content/uploads/Roman Nose Lakes Hike.GPX”]
  • Grandmother and Grandfather Mountains

    Grandmother and Grandfather Mountains

    Since my daughter was born a month ago, I haven’t been able to get out and stretch my legs on the trail. So when an opportunity came along to go hiking, I jumped at it. The past few weeks had been miserably hot, even to the point where escaping into the high elevations wouldn’t provide refuge from the heat. However, since nights were cool, the early morning hours were a pleasant time to be outside. So one morning, CJ and I hit up Spud Hill in Deary and made it down just in time for the heat to make life uncomfortable. Despite the haze in the air, we could see all the way out to the Wallowas over 100 miles away.

    Spud Hill (elevation 4009) overlooks Deary and the eastern edge of the Palouse.
    Spud Hill (elevation 4009) overlooks Deary and the eastern edge of the Palouse.

    On Wednesday of last week, temperatures actually broke 100 degrees fahrenheit, making it the hottest day of summer so far. We had to go to Spokane to pick up my mother from the airport, but because it was so hot, we didn’t even take any walks in the city. On Friday, we got a blast of cold air from Canada, but with it came smoke from a massive series of fires burning in the Northwest Territories. The smoke was so bad that even I was having trouble walking around town. Luckily, it moved out of the area over the weekend and yesterday, the air was pretty clear and still cool. There were clouds in the sky, but so far everything seemed dry, so I suggested we take advantage of the “good” conditions and hike up to Grandmother and Grandfather mountain.

    The clouds were thicker over the mountains. On the drive up, I notice that the summits of each of the peaks were cloaked in the cloud, and the dark skies had the possibility of rain. But the clouds were moving quickly, and there was sunshine to the west that had me hopeful that we’d end up with a nice day on the mountain. During the hike, the summit of Grandmother Mountain came in and out of the clouds. We must have timed it just right because when we hit the summit, the low clouds had lifted and moved further out. Since it seemed nice, we decided to continue on to Grandfather Mountain.

    For most of the hike, the mountains were cloaked in the clouds.
    For most of the hike, the mountains were cloaked in the clouds.

    At Grandfather mountain, we noticed that there was some rain to the northeast. The clouds still looked like they were moving from the northwest, but it didn’t take long to feel the raindrops upon us. We ate a quick lunch and I found a geocache on the summit that hadn’t been found since 2005.

    We found a geocache at the summit of Grandfather Mountain. This cache hadn't been found since 2005.
    We found a geocache at the summit of Grandfather Mountain. This cache hadn’t been found since 2005.

    Though the rain never amounted to more than a light sprinkle, we got fairly damp having to hike back in it for four miles. Despite the weather, it was a great hike. The wildflowers were in the peak of their blooms and provided a colorful carpet as we passed by. There were more beargrass flowers than I had ever seen up there before. I have not hiked 8 miles at once in a while, but my leg has healed such that I was pleasantly tired at the end, but not overly sore. In fact, my good leg was aching more than the injured one. I think I might be ready for a good hiking season, that is, if I can get the time to get out.

    Wildflowers blooming in the meadow on Grandmother Mountain.
    Wildflowers blooming in the meadow on Grandmother Mountain.
    My mom taking photos of the wildflower blooms.
    My mom taking photos of the wildflower blooms.

    The full trip to Grandfather Mountain is a little over 8 miles with almost 2000 feet of total elevation gain. If you don’t wish to make the full trip to Grandfather, the shorter hike to Grandmother Mountain is just as good since the best views and scenery are found on this section of the hike. Grandmother Mountain is my favorite local hike. I’ve been up here several times each year since I’ve moved out here. It’s even a popular destination for people living farther away. On this hike, we met some hikers who came down from Spokane. That’s impressive considering there are plenty of great places to hike with a shorter driving time from the city.

    [map style=”width: auto; height:600px; margin:20px 0px 20px 0px; border: 1px solid black;” gpx=”http://www.mineral2.com/wp-content/uploads/Grandfather Mountain Jul 20 2014.GPX”]

  • Evo-WIBO and the Olympic Peninsula

    Evo-WIBO and the Olympic Peninsula

    I’m two weeks on this post, but forgive me because the last two weeks of the semester have been insane. The bi-annual northwest evolution conference, Evo-WIBO, occurred the last weekend of April. If you don’t remember, I attended the last meeting two years ago and presented a talk on the results of our selection experiment. This year, I presented a poster (my first) on the use of function-value trait analysis to analyze video tracking data. In short, we can use functions to describe behaviors over time and use more details in the data than if we were to simply distill it all down to a single mean number.

    In many ways, this conference was more useful to me than the last one. This is the first conference in which I presented on work that is truly my own. Even at Evolution last summer, I had been presenting on data using the the selection lines, and though I spent so much time working on that project, it came out of a previous student’s dissertation, and I won’t be able to use it in my own. I still had tons of fun socializing and talking science with other students and faculty from neighboring states. As a 4th year graduate student, I felt more confident in my knowledge of evolutionary biology, and therefore could have more meaningful conversations. In the upcoming years, the purpose of conferences will shift to finding a post-doc, though I’ve already got some potential labs on my radar.

    I don’t want to focus on the conference. Instead, I’d like to shift focus to my time after the conference: exploring the Olympic Peninsula. Two years ago, I felt it was a shame to drive all the way to Port Townsend for two nights only to return without seeing the sights. So, this year I vowed to take advantage of the location and spend a couple of days in Olympic National Park. I convinced three others to stay and explore with me. Here’s our adventure.

    Friday, April 25

    Petrified logs in Washington's Columbia River Valley.
    Petrified logs in Washington’s Columbia River Valley.

    Two years ago, as I crossed the Columbia River for the first time, I found out that Washington has a petrified forest. At the time, I had to pass it by. This year, I deliberately made it a place to stop and stretch my legs. The Ginko Petrified Forest is neat, but unfortunately, we were before the summer season and the visitors center wasn’t open on a weekday. There are numerous logs on display outside with an overlook on the Columbia River. A set of petroglyphs had been relocated here when the nearby Wanapum Dam was built. There are a few hiking trails in the park, but they did not take off from the visitors center, and we didn’t really have time to walk them. It was a nice stop, and some day I’ll make it back out there with more time to explore.

    Columbia River

    Monday, April 28

    Dungeness Spit

    The conference ended at noon on Sunday. We walked around Fort Worden while waiting for our 4th member to arrive from Seattle. After a delicious seafood dinner in Port Townsend, we drove to the Dungeness National Wildlife Refuge to camp. In the morning, I walked around the little county park to do some birding and geocaching while the others got moving. We then headed into the wildlife refuge to check out the Dungeness Spit, a 5.5 mile sandbar that juts out from the mainland. The sand deposition has created a harbor for wildlife. We saw many species of waterfowl including loons, grebes, surf scoter and more. We even had a seal follow us for a while. We were hoping to see a whale, but had no luck in that department.

    There is a lighthouse at the end of the spit. From the parking lot, it’s a 5.5 mile one-way walk. Since we got a late start relative to the tide, we didn’t make the lighthouse a priority. At low tide, it’s a nice gentle walk along the beach. At high tide, you’re confined to the upper stretches of the beach, which limits you to climbing over giant pieces of driftwood. The lighthouse is staffed and provides bathrooms and drinking water to those who venture out that far. After our hike on the spit, we headed into Port Angeles and then on to the Sol Duc valley where we made camp for the night and soaked in the hot springs at the resort.

    Tuesday, April 29

    IMG_3544The Sol Duc campground is incredibly beautiful. It’s situated on the banks of the Sol Duc River in the midst of an old-growth forest. The best part about visiting Olympic National Park in April is the relative solitude and lack of crowds. Although only one loop of the campground was open, we had no trouble finding a campsite.

    It hadn’t rained overnight or the previous evening, but everything was wet and damp in the morning. The sky was overcast, and that had me excited for appropriate light conditions for photographing waterfalls. Our destination for the day was the Hoh Rainforest, but since Sol Duc Falls was less than a mile’s hike in, I convinced everyone that we should make the hike before heading out.

    Sol Duc Forest Waterfall on a side creek At Sol Duc Falls

     

    The forest at Sol Duc is absolutely gorgeous. The trees are all 150-200 feet tall, and many are enormous in girth. Every log and rock is covered in a layer of moss. Small creeks tumble down from the side. And then you get to the waterfall. Sol Duc Falls drops 48 feet into a narrow gorge. The interesting part is that these falls enter the gorge from the side, rather than head-on. Sol Duc is perhaps the most picturesque waterfall in the park. From these images, it’s not hard to see why.

    Sol Duc Falls

     

    After a nice morning at Sol Duc, we drove out to Forks where we stopped for lunch and a re-stock on food for camping. By the time we made it into the Hoh Rainforest, the sun had come out in full force. The rainforest is quite a stark contrast with the forests of northern Idaho. For one, the humidity in the air is above 80%, on par with life in the southeast. On this April day, temperatures rose into the high 70’s or low 80’s. On all accounts, it was beautiful weather, except for photographers. In the forest, full sunlight creates high contrast conditions that are incredibly difficult to deal with. Either you keep details in the shadows and get highlights that are blown out where the sun is shining, or you get good exposure for the sunlit spots, but everything else is nearly black. I spent some time taking multiple exposures to blend together in Photoshop using the built-in HDR tools. I think this compromise worked well, though I still would have liked overcast and even rainy conditions.

    IMG_3579

    The Hoh Rainforest is unlike any forest I’ve been in. In addition to the huge old-growth spruce, fir, and cedar, the forest is full of maples. These trees are covered from top to bottom in epiphytes. A blanket of moss covers every open surface, and that creates a substrate for ferns to grow. Seeds from the larger trees might not even make it to the ground, instead settling among the epiphyte communities and sprouting mid-way up the trunk of an existing tree. Those that die and fall over are quickly overrun with new plants. These nurse logs serve as nutrients for a new generation of forest dwellers. It’s not uncommon to see a row of large trees with a hole in their base where the nurse log once nourished them.

    Look how big that tree is! Maple Grove Hoh Rainforest

    After spending some time at the Hoh Rainforest, we headed out for Quinault lake where we planned to spend the night. On the way, we stopped for a brief leg-stretch at Ruby Beach. Like the Dungeness Spit, the coastal beaches on the Pacific are full of giant driftwood logs. The beach is a rock beach below a cliff. Sea stacks rise like pillars from the waves. On a longer trip, we would have spent a whole day on the coast, but we were in a rush to set up our campsite before dark.

    Ruby Beach

    The only campground open was Willaby, but I think it was the nicest campground that we stayed at the entire trip. Willaby sits on the shore of Quinault Lake among a patch of old-growth forest. The campsites are spread farther apart than those in the national park, and they’re also smaller. Most of the sites would accommodate only one tent, but we managed to find one that fit two, and it was on the lake shore.

    Quinault Lake
    View from out campsite on Quinault Lake.

    Wednesday, April 30

    Quinault is a great place to spend some time. There is a system of trails in the national forest across the road from the campground. These trails traverse a beautiful rainforest and visit some waterfalls and some incredibly large trees. There’s even a waterfall just outside the campground. But on the other side of the lake, there’s another maple forest in the national park. We hiked the loop in the Quinault Rainforest, which passes through an old farmstead. After having been in the Hoh Rainforest, I think I like the Quinault better. There are fewer downed trees and fewer people. The forest habitat itself is similar, but the solitude and the historic homestead add to the beauty.

    After our jaunt through the Quinault Rainforest, we headed home. It took us 8 hours to drive 430 miles, stopping only a handful of times for bathroom breaks and once to refuel. Olympic National Park is huge. I’m glad I suggested two full days to enjoy the area, but in reality, two wasn’t enough, even in April when access to the high country is restricted to skis and snowshoes. The low-land attractions seem like they’d be short, but they are spread out such that driving from valley to valley takes at least an hour, sometimes more. Spring is a great time to visit the coast and the rainforest. Summer is great for trekking into the alpine portions of the park. I’m glad to have gotten a taste of what the park has to offer, but it remains high on my list of places to return. We never made it up to Hurricane Ridge, and I’d like to backpack into the wilderness. Olympic National Park is pretty awesome.

    IMG_3618 IMG_3646 IMG_3651

    IMG_3653 IMG_3655 IMG_3659

  • Scenic Drives and Cemeteries

    Scenic Drives and Cemeteries

    I really enjoy the small historic cemeteries that dot the Palouse. They’re tucked away on obscure roads or in the middle of farm fields in places where you wouldn’t think to go. They’re incredibly peaceful and scenic and full of local history. So, I decided to visit a few local to my house along one of my favorite drives (See the map above). This loop takes you into some remote corners of the Palouse region with some awesome scenery. If you have a free day with some nice weather, consider this for your day out.

    Texas Ridge Road

    While Spring lurches onto the Palouse, winter is still in full force on top of Grandmother and Grandfather Mountains.
    While Spring lurches onto the Palouse, winter is still in full force on top of Grandmother and Grandfather Mountains.

    The first part of this drive takes off from Deary down ID-3 and turns onto Texas Ridge Road. If you want to leave the main road even earlier, consider turning onto Drury Road instead. It will meet up with Texas Ridge Road. These gravel roads take you through the rolling farmland along Texas Ridge. You’ll pass the Elwood Cemetery followed by an old one-room school house that’s still standing. The road then winds its way to the rim of Potlatch Canyon where you soon realize just how high up you actually are before descending down into the canyon and meeting up with Cedar Ridge Road near Kendrick.

    A view into the Potlatch Canyon from the end of Texas Ridge.
    A view into the Potlatch Canyon from the end of Texas Ridge.

    Cedar Ridge

    If you head right, you’ll end up in Kendrick, a small and once prosperous town at the bottom of the canyon. That way leads to some great scenic driving options as well, but for this loop, we’ll head left on Cedar Ridge Road. You’ll start by winding along the Potlatch River. This time of year, the water level is up and you might spot kayakers playing in the rapids. By the end of summer, the water level drops so low that fishing this stream becomes difficult. After a few miles on the river, the road ascends the canyon and you find yourself on the opposite rim from where you started.

    Cedar Creek Canyon
    Cedar Creek Canyon

    Cedar Ridge Road actually branches off to the right once you reach the top, but you’ll want to stay on the paved road, which becomes Linden Road. To get to Gold Hill Cemetery, take an immediate left onto Parsley Road. You’ll see the cemetery on the hill with Moscow Mountain behind it in the distance.

    Gold Hill Cemetery lies on the hill to the left. Moscow Mountain rises in the background.
    Gold Hill Cemetery lies on the hill to the left. Moscow Mountain rises in the background.

    The cemetery is incredibly beautiful. From the hill top, you can view the landscape in almost every direction. Peer down into the canyon from where you came, gaze across at Texas Ridge and beyond to the Idaho Palouse. Look upon Moscow Mountain, Spud Hill in Deary, and countless other peaks that make up the foothills of the Clearwater Mountains.

    Potlatch Canyon

     

    The rural cemeteries give an insight into life when this was still considered the frontier. Life in the late 19th and early 20th centuries was difficult. Most of the markers from this time are from people under the age of 50. Many are small children. But as hard as life was, people stayed. Many of the same families still live nearby and continue to use the cemetery as resting places of their recently deceased. The oldest stone in this cemetery dates to 1889. The most recent is from last year.

    A number of stones at Gold Hill mark the site of young children.
    A number of stones at Gold Hill mark the site of young children.

    Park Road

    Continue north on Linden Road and you’ll ascend the end of a mountain ridge, then drop into Boulder Creek, and rise up on the next piece of flat ground. This valley is tucked between two mountain ridges and isolated from the Palouse by the deep Potlatch Canyon. Here you’ll find the Park Cemetery, another old community burial ground with scenic surroundings. Park road continues to the Potlatch River canyon where it meets up with the Little Boulder Creek campground and the five-mile hiking loop that I often walk. This is a good place to stretch your legs and wade in the river on a hot day. The campground also has a day use picnic area.

    From here, your drive is almost over. Park road ends at ID-3 at Helmer. There’s not much to Helmer, but the cafe and country store is pretty well-known for its burgers. Stop in for lunch or dinner, but bring cash. They don’t accept credit cards. From here, you’re only 3 miles from Deary, where we started.

    Here are some more images from this drive:

    There are tons of scenic roads and historical sites throughout the Palouse region. Sometimes, all you have to do is find a road and as “where does this go?” You’ll discover some amazing things. Much of my discoveries have come from exploring these obscure roads and “getting lost.” But I’ve also found interesting places through geocaching. In case you don’t know what it is, geocaching is a kind of navigation and orienteering game where people hide containers in interesting places and post the coordinates at geocaching.com. Sometimes the containers have items for trade, and some just have a logbook to sign. Some are easy to find, others are quite challenging and innovative. Often, they are placed in unique and interesting locations, bringing people to places that they might otherwise pass by. The game is free to play, and with smartphones containing a GPS antenna, there’s not even a need to buy a traditional GPS receiver. I’ve hidden four geocaches along this route, and there are several more at the campground and hiking loop hidden by other users. It’s just one way to explore the country.

  • Asotin Creek

    Asotin Creek

    Bighorn Sheep at Asotin Creek.
    Bighorn Sheep at Asotin Creek.

    It’s funny that only two weeks ago, I was clearing snow from my driveway, and now there’s hardly any sign of winter left on the Palouse. Instead of snow, it rained for nearly a week straight. So when we caught a break in the weather on Saturday, I was quite happy to take advantage and begin my spring hiking season. I chose to go to Asotin Creek.

    The town of Asotin is located five miles south of Clarkston, Washington. It is here that Asotin Creek empties its water into the Snake River. But the hiking begins about 20 miles upstream deep in a 1500 foot canyon. Summers are hot and dry. In the spring, the hill sides are green. In the fall, the deciduous vegetation adds a splash of color to the dry landscape. In winter, the area is closed off to motorized vehicles to protect the wintering herds of elk and other large game. It takes just over an hour to reach the trailhead from Moscow, making it a great destination for a day trip.

    Asotin Creek is a special place for me. It was the fist hike I ever did in this area, and that was before I even moved out here. I come to Asotin Creek to hike a few times a year, but really I should come more often. On this trip, I hiked in about 5 miles, farther than I have made it in previous trips. As you get farther back into the canyon, the forests begin to take over the bottom. By the time you reach the Blue Mountains, there are trees up both sides of the canyon. But I’m afraid I can’t quite make it that far in one day, at least not without a shuttle waiting for me at the other end. But I am tempted to bring my backpack and spend a night or two along the creek. I always forget that it’s a place to get away without having to travel too far from home.

    I’ve always heard stories of the bighorn sheep that reside in the canyon. One of my Flickr contacts sees them every time. I never had such luck until this last trip. I had been looking for them on the entire hike in, and finally, on the way out, I spotted about 6 of them on the opposite wall of the canyon. The photo above is as good of a shot as I could make with a 105mm lens.

  • A President’s Weekend in McCall

    A President’s Weekend in McCall

    I can’t believe February is almost over an I haven’t made any posts yet. I’ve been plugging along with classes and research and laying fairly low for financial reasons. I’m not skiing this year, which helps out in keeping my costs down. I have been snowshoeing more this winter than in the past, and that’s helping to keep me in shape, but it’s not quite as often as I’d like. In part, it’s due to time constraints, and in part it’s due to the weird weather we’ve been having this winter. We’ve had less snow than in winters past, and when we do get a big snowstorm, temperatures warm up and we lose the accumulation pretty quickly. At least, that’s the case down here in the lower elevations of the Palouse. It’s a slightly different scenario higher up.

    While the grass was out in Moscow, McCall was still buried under a few feet of snow, though warm weather threatened that as well. Last year, about 20 post-docs and graduate students got together and rented a house for a ski weekend in McCall. Apparently I didn’t post about this little adventure. We went down during the first weekend of McCall’s winter carnival, which also coincides with Brundage’s Beer and Gear weekend in which the ski shops set up gear demo stations and the local breweries brings some brews to try out. But since none of us actually demoed the gear, and the beer portion of the festival wasn’t anything special (no beer garden, no discounted pints), we decided to return during a 3-day weekend to have more time to play. Again, we had about 20 of us on this trip, and we found a really nice house to accommodate us. I also had a few people not skiing who could join me for some alternative fun. This is the story of our weekend.

    Day 1: Snowshoeing to Molly’s Hot Springs

    I had two goals on my agenda for the weekend: To do lots of snowshoeing, and to soak in a hot spring. Luckily, I could satisfy both in one trip. Molly’s Hot Springs is located about 90 minutes south of McCall (really only 50 miles of driving) near the Warm Lake recreation area. It would generally be accessible by car with a short walk to the springs, but in winter, only the main road to Warm Lake is plowed. This leaves us with a 2-mile hike in the snow along the unplowed forest service road along the South Fork of the Salmon River. At least, that’s what it was supposed to be. The nearest available parking was about half a mile down the road at a second unplowed FS road. The two run fairly parallel with a small mountain between them. According to my map, there was a connecting road on the opposite side of this mountain which would extend the hike to the springs to 3 miles, but allow us to make a full loop instead of an out-and-back hike. So, we chose this option.

    For the first two miles, the hike was great. The road had been packed down by snowmobiles which makes snowshoeing quite easy. Even the cross-country skier in our group was having a great time. We made it to the connecting trail in about one hour. That’s when the easy part ended. The connecting road turned out to be an old logging road no longer maintained. As a result, there were no snowmobile tracks to walk on. But no problem, right? The snow pack was three, maybe four feet deep, though this wasn’t your dry, fluffy powder. The warm weather did extend to McCall and Warm Lake and even though we were above 5000 feet, temperatures had been above freezing. This was three or four feet of wet, heavy snow. But even with three of us, we should have been able to make a nice little trail. When I took my first steps, I sank down to my knees. It was way more unstable than I had expected, and that was with snowshoes. But what choice did we have? Our goal was to reach the hot springs, and this was the only way to possibly reach them with enough time to soak.

    The main problem is that even when the first person sinks, the next person to step in that footprint may sink even lower. It dawned on me that we had been hiking on a road previously, a solid surface. We were now walking on top of small trees that were growing back and reclaiming what had once been a road many years ago. The vegetation under us was small enough to be completely covered by the snow, but it was enough to create tree wells, pockets of air under the snow that collapsed as soon as we stepped on them. Not every step sank so deep, so it became a game of how long would it take before you were plunged waste deep. If there was a way to break your leg snowshoeing, this would be it. Meanwhile, our cross-country skier was able to continue along just fine. This might be one of the advantages to taking skis into the backcountry.

    It took us over an hour to travel 0.8 miles. When we finally reached the other road, we were ecstatic to be on snowmobile tracks again. But the hot spring was another 0.2 miles on a side road. We were still falling through the snow, but it wasn’t quite as bad. A bridge crosses the river and the hot springs are located up the hill from the opposite bank. We got to the bride around 3:00 pm, too late to take time to soak without having to hike out in the dark. But I wanted to check out the pool anyway.

    Molly’s Hot Spring is the last in a series of springs along the South Fork of the Salmon River, heading upstream from Warm Lake Road. The other springs are closer to the river, and in late summer and fall, are easily accessible. In the winter, you don’t want to cross the cold river, and in the spring, the soaking pools are submerged by the snowmelt and runoff. Molly’s Hot Spring is high enough up the hill and near a bridge to avoid any of these problems, so it’s technically a year-round soaker. The hot water runs down the hill and is piped into a pool that’s not very deep and large enough for maybe four people to fully submerge, though you could probably squeeze six in and still be comfortable. Had we known the connecting trail was going to be so treacherous with snowshoes, we would have just come the other way and saved some time and energy.

    The total loop was about six miles, and we made it in 4 hours and 45 minutes. The snowmobile tracks ended about halfway back to Warm Lake Road, adding a little extra difficulty to the last bit of the hike. As we approached the road, we met a group of 12 or so students from Boise State who were snowshoeing in with large packs to spend the night near the hot springs. We sure could have used the path they make our exit easier. Once we hit Warm Lake Road, we were able to take off our snowshoes and walk the remaining half-mile on pavement.

    The warm Lake area seems quite beautiful. Unfortunately, it was snowing pretty heavily on the way in, and the clouds remained low for much of the hike. We had scattered snow showers  that turned into scattered rain showers later in the day, but nothing so wet that we were miserable. I was able to see the mountains a bit as we hiked out. On our way back, we stopped at Trail Creek Hot Springs, which are just off the road near Warm Lake. Although this one is road-side, the approach includes a steep decline down the bank to the creek. You’re actually quite hidden from the road, so you don’t notice your proximity. The soaking pools are first class. Two rock and mortar pools were made along the creek and pipes from the source bring hot water to each. The water is so hot that it must be mixed with the cold creek water to be comfortable.

    Day 2: Ponderosa State Park

    After the epic snowshoe adventure of Saturday, I decided we should keep things light and simple and close to home. But since Anahi had no trouble navigating the deep snow on cross country skis, the rest of us thought we’d also give it a try. Spoiler alter: cross country skiing is not easy.

    When I was little, and by little, I mean less than 10 years of age, my parents tried to get my sister and I into cross country skiing. I hated it. It was hard work and not much fun. When I worked at the Weis Ecology Center after college, I had to teach very beginner cross-country ski lessons over the winter which would end with a trip to High Point State Park.  That winter, we didn’t get enough snow or registrants to make the trip to the park, but I did give a lesson or two, as well as get trained on the basics myself. Since then, I thought it might be good to give it another try. I finally got that chance, and while I don’t regret it at all, it sure reminded me why I wasn’t downhill skiing this year.

    Ponderosa State Park is a peninsula in the middle of Payette Lake in McCall. The majority of the park becomes a snow park for cross country skiing and snowshoeing. The groomed trails should be good for beginners. I should mention that this was Tim and Daniel’s (from Brazil) first time on nordic skis. They did well. We started on a trail called Through the Woods. In hindsight, it probably wasn’t the best trail to start on, but then, we were having trouble finding the beginner trails, and thought this was one of them. It wasn’t bad, and led us to one of the beginner trails, but we wanted the one that went up the peninsula. We mistakenly turned onto an intermediate trail and was immediately confronted with a hill. First lesson: going uphill. It was tough, but doable. We got up the small hill to go down on the other side. Fortunately, the downhill wasn’t as steep as the uphill, and we all made it fairly unscathed. Then there was a second hill, and again the downhill wasn’t so bad. Then a third hill, and then a fourth. As we stood on top of the fourth hill, it became apparent that this trail would not be suitable for us beginners to continue. That also presented us with a dilemma. All of the hills we had previously conquered were steep on the ascent, but gentler on the descent. In the return direction, we’d have a steeper descent. We ended up walking down those.

    We returned to the parking area via the beginner trail and stopped for a lunch break. Afterward, we found the beginner trails and took a small loop, which proved to be much better for our skill level. In fact, we got through the loop much faster than I had anticipated and we continued up one of the other easy trails until we decided it would be good to turn around and quit for the day. In all, we skied about five miles. Not bad for a first time.

    Cross country skiing proved to be a bit harder on me than I expected. I was using a different set of muscles than I did snowshoeing, and I had to rely more on my knees to bear my weight and aid in balance. I knew my right knee wasn’t strong enough to handle downhill skiing this year, and cross-country skiing reinforced that notion. But nordic skiing isn’t completely out of the picture. I wonder if I continue to ski through the rest of the winter (dependent on snow) if that would help me strengthen my knee so that next year, I could hit the slopes again, assuming I can afford it next year. I hear little ones are expensive.

    Day 3: Brundage

    On monday, we had to pack up and check out of the house. Surprisingly, a large chunk of our group decided to leave on Sunday. The remaining folks decided that the snow was good enough to ski a third day. Originally, I had planned to stop at Pittsburg Saddle and snowshoe up to the Grave Point lookout tower if the weather cooperated for a high point view. But several of my passengers had bailed, my remaining passenger wanted to ski, and the weather report called for inclement weather. I thought maybe a snowshoe along Goose Lake Road at Brundage would be a perfect compromise. Luckily, we awoke to blue skies and sunshine and that remained through much of the afternoon, with some clouds in the sky.

    In the summer, Goose Lake Road takes you back into the mountains to the Brundage Reservoir and then to Goose Lake. In the winter, it becomes a snowmobile trail. I had anticipated that the road would be packed down, and it was. I was also afraid we’d have to share it with the snowmobilers, which we did. Nevertheless, it’s still a nice road to walk on with snowshoes. The road traverses the steep side of Brundage Mountain. At around 1.5 miles from the Brundage parking lot, the trees on the downhill slope disappear, opening up a spectacular view of the Goose Creek valley, the mountains up the valley, New Meadows down the valley, and more mountains in the distance. This overlook was my goal for the day. Perhaps in the future, I’ll return and hike farther, though I’d really like to return in the summer and explore the terrain behind Brundage a bit more. There’s a campground at Goose Lake, and from there, a trail takes off for the summit of Granite Peak where there is also a lookout/fire tower.

    In total, I logged about 14 miles this weekend, bringing me up to 25 miles for the year. My goal for 2014 is to hike (or snowshoe or cross country ski) a total of 100 miles. When I was working at the Mountain Campus, I would probably have reached that goal in a few months. But since moving out here, I haven’t been covering as much ground. I’m hoping that 100 miles in the year will keep me active enough to be satisfied, though with 25 miles logged in 1.5 months, maybe I can reach that goal before the baby arrives in July.

    Challenge accepted.

  • Snowshoeing Moose Creek

    Snowshoeing Moose Creek

    Moose Creek Reservoir

    Last week, winter returned to the Palouse. We got about six inches of snow in Deary, most of which was still around over the weekend. On Sunday, I joined a group of students and post-docs for a snowshoeing trip to Moose Creek. Although it was a foggy and overcast day, we had a great time.

    I’m always amazed at how much more snow Moose Creek gets, despite its close proximity to home. I estimate the snow was about a foot deep, which is plenty for snowshoeing. We ended up hiking just under 2 miles in before turning around and heading back. I’ve forgotten how much energy is required to walk in snow, and after four miles, I was thoroughly whooped. I also brought the dogs along, including two that we are watching for other people. The four dogs had a blast and came home exhausted.

    I can’t wait for more snow to fall. Since I won’t be skiing this year, I’ll be doing more snowshoeing and maybe some cross-country skiing. Erin got a pair for Christmas, so she’ll be coming along, too. And I’ve got more friends excited for some winter exploration when they return from break. It’s going to be a good winter.

    Create Maps or search from 80 million at MapMyHike
  • 4th of July

    4th of July

    A Beargrass Mountain View

    Once again, I missed the fireworks. I admit that I was looking forward to photographing them, but in the end, I was busy hanging out with friends, and we decided not to go over to Pullman. I did spend much of my nation’s birthday enjoying one of the best parts about this country: its wild side.

    I went back up to Freezeout to hike into the alpine meadows of Grandmother Mountain, and I brought a friend with me who had never been up there. Our goal was not to reach the summit, but to simply escape the heat, enjoy the views, and see what wildflowers were in bloom. It was a beautiful day for a hike worthy of celebrating our day of Independence.

    Wilderness is not uniquely American, but there are some unique aspects of the idea that originated here. There are many vast tracts of wilderness on the planet, but most of them are located in places that are either uninhabitable or are conomically depressed. But as third world nations develop and our resource consumption grows, these wild places are under threat of being lost forever. This happened through much of Europe where wilderness is nearly nonexistent. Sure, there are still natural places, but the habitat is highly fragmented and much of the forest land has been converted to fields for agriculture. The United States was headed for a similar disaster. Most of the forests in the east have been cut down at one point in our history and left to re-grow in small patches here and there. We have almost no original prairie left on the great plains. And the great western forests are logged down to the soil in places.

    But before we could cut down every last tree and develop every last interesting place into a circus show, we decided that some places were better left unspoiled in their natural state, and that this untouched paradise could be an attraction in itself. So, at the end of the 19th century, the national park system was born, an idea that is truely American and has spread around the world in efforts to protect special places in danger of being lost for developmental gain. In the 1960’s, the push for true wilderness brought us the Wilderness Act of 1964, allowing congress to set aside land to never be developed. Few of today’s wilderness areas were untouched when designated, most were once logged or mined or farmed and were abandoned to be reclaimed by the forces of nature. This is what makes the United States so great and so unique. We are a developed and technologically advanced nation that set aside valuable habitable or developable land in order that we may have some wild places left to enjoy.

    The forests of Marble Creek and Freezeout were once logged bare, but decades of non-use have hidden many of the scars. The landscape is beautiful up there with a sense that you truely are in a wild place, even if it’s not completlely untouched.

     

    Grandmother Mountain Trail

    I’m still amazed by how much beargrass is in bloom. It seems to be a good year. But all good comes with a trade-off, and the trade-off here is that the rest of the wildflowers don’t seem to be doing as well. The quantity of lupine blooming is down from the past two years, and much of the other color is missing as well. It’s not that the plants aren’t there, they just aren’t putting out flowers this year.

    CJ and I hiked a total of four miles, two in and two back, which brought us up the slope to Grandmother Mountain, but not quite to the 6000 foot line. In other words, we didn’t make it to the big rock upon which I like to stop and rest. But that’s ok. I hiked four miles and my leg never bothered me. This marks the first time I’ve hiked that kind of distance since the accident, and to make it better, we made the hike in 2 hours, my normal hiking pace. I’m excited because I could very well be back to taking moderate day hikes by the end of the summer.

    Mountain Heather and Lookout Mountain

  • Evolution at Snowbird

    Little Cottonwood Canyon

    This year’s Evolution meeting was held at the Snowbird resort in the beautiful Wasatch Mountains outside of Salt Lake City, Utah. This year, I was fortunate enough to attend this meeting and present a talk on the correlation (or lack thereof) of boldness behaviors and swimming behavior in an open field. Of course, while meetings are great for presenting research from the lab, they’re also great for learning about other research and meeting people and making connections. This was my first trip to the Salt Lake City area, and despite staying at a hotel down in the valley, I really didn’t get a chance to explore the city or any of the surrounding area outside of Little Cottonwood Canyon. Nevertheless, I had a great time and really enjoyed this conference.

    Evolution is generally held on the third weekend of June each year. This year, the meeting began on Friday, June 21 and ran through Tuesday, June 25. Barrie, Matthieu, and I drove down Friday morning, leaving here at 6 am and arriving at Snowbird right around 6 pm, just in time to catch the opening reception. Saturday and Sunday were full of talks, including my own talk on Saturday morning. I was so busy that I didn’t really have time to get out and explore. Luckily, they scheduled a half-day on Monday, giving us the afternoon off just for that purpose. I originally planned to hike from Alta over to Catherine Lake, but the road to the trailhead was closed. So instead, a group of us went up the tram and hiked from Hidden Peak over to Mt. Baldy, a short one-mile hike that descends 300 feet and then rises 400, both summits up around 11,000 feet in elevation. Unfortunately, Monday was the only day we had ovecast skies and rain. We managed to make it back to the tram before the storm really hit the mountain, but some others weren’t so lucky. A few hikers from LSU got stranded on the mountain when the tram closed early and had to hike back down in the storm. By Tuesday, I was fully exhausted, and after sitting through a morning of Quantitative Genetics sessions, I decided to take the afternoon off and ride the tram again to see the views in the sunshine. In fact, it was a great way to unwind before the final banquet. 

    Conferences like these are exhausting. There were probably 2000 people in attendance and too many sessions to choose from. When picking out talks to see, there were often several I wanted to go to that overlapped at the same time. And it’s also easy to overload your schedule, which keeps you constantly on the move. By the second day, I had cut out all talks at the other building so that I wouldn’t have to keep walking back and forth. I also gave myself some breaks throughout the day. But even with this tactic, it’s still easy to become overwhelmed. In some ways, small meetings are nicer because there is only one talk session at a time and everyone is at it. On the other hand, there are lots of great opportunities to meet people and network. I’m exhausted, but I had a great time, and I’m looking forward to next year in Raleigh, North Carolina. 

  • Palouse Falls

    There seems to be a trend among people that when you live in a certain area, you tend to take for granted your proximity to tourist attractions and not visit them. Local attractions aren’t really a priority because they’re always there, so you can always visit them later. Well, later can turn into years. In this case, three years. I’ve gone three years without having visited Palouse Falls despite it being a major attraction in the area. To be fair, Palouse Falls isn’t really on the Palouse, but it’s an almost 200 foot sheer drop along the Palouse River in central Washington. It takes about two hours to get there from Moscow, and there’s not a whole lot else around it. Thus, it hadn’t been high on my priorities. Nevertheless, I’ve always wanted to see the falls, and I made an excuse to take Erin to go see them this weekend. To make the drive worth the effort, I planned to grab as many geocaches along the way as I could. I think I did pretty well: thirteen in one day.

    So, here’s what makes Palouse Falls so special:

    Palouse Falls - farther back

    That waterfall is nearly 200 feet tall, 198 feet to be precise. If that’s not impressive enough, the falls are less than half the total depth of the canyon. Needless to say, this basalt gorge is pretty neat. The sheer canyon cliffs remind me of the sandstone canyons of southern Utah, at least in shape. It’s a very cliche western scenery. Somehow, there are trails that lead closer to the falls and even to the bottom, but with my leg still healing, I wasn’t about to risk an injury. So, we stayed in the safety of the canyon rim.

    When I said that Palouse Falls was not on the Palouse, what I meant was that it’s not in the eco-region called the Palouse. The Palouse was a prairie, much of which has been raised for agriculture. It’s a region of lush rolling hills, wheat, canola, and lentil farms, and general awesomeness that looks much like this:
    The Palouse

    In contrast, there’s a point heading west where the farms end and the scrubby rangeland begins. It’s almost a desert out there with the main flora consisting of sagebrush and fewer grasses. It reminds me of southern Idaho, which is also a sagebrush steppe semi-desert with canyons cutting through the bassalt. I suppose that’s the real attraction. The landscape is beautiful. The towns are not. The nearest town to the falls is Washtucna. There’s a convenience store and a country dive bar. The rest of town is boarded up.

    Despite its proximity to almost nothing, the park at the falls is pretty nice. There’s a well-kept lawn for picnics and camping and the trails are well maintained and easy to follow. I thought that the rainy weather would hamper my photography expedition, but I think I got a few nice shots with the wet camera. I’d certainly like to return in better weather, maybe even camp out to get some sunset and sunrise shots at the falls. I’d certainly like to hike down into the canyon once my leg gets better.
    Palouse Falls Canyon View

  • Spring Wildflowers and McCroskey State Park

    When I started this blog, I never intended to make daily posts, but then, I thought that maybe I could come up with enough content to post more than once a month.

    This month’s post is all about Spring wildflowers on the Palouse, because I’ve found some new ones and re-photographed some old favorites. To begin, I had realized that after three years of watching the Larkspur add a magnificent splash of purple to our yard, I had yet to put this plant in front of the camera. As common as it is, Larkspur might be one of my favorites simply because the deep hues are also extremely vibrant which makes this flower very noticeable even from a distance. So, let’s take a look at the larkspur:

    Larkspur

    Isn’t it wonderful? The purple creates such a nice contrast with the green grass, you can’t ignore it. And the best part of all this: it’s native. This isn’t some invasive exotic which usually colonizes disturbed areas such as yards. It actually grows wild here in the northwest. Larkspur is of the genus Delphinium. In case that name rings a bell, there is a cultivated Delphinium which really looks nothing like the D. nuttallianum pictured above. But then again, very few cultivated garden flowers resemble their wild cousins.

    While I was photographing some of the larkspur, I happened upon four Camas plants, three of which are in bloom. During my first spring, I had been looking for Camas. After all, the Palouse prairie habitat closely resembles that of a Camas prairie. I first found Camas last year after hiking in the national forest. This year, the Camas seems to be everywhere. The four plants in my yard are a welcome find. I don’t know if I simply overlooked them in the past, or if this is the first time they have appeared on my little wildflower hill.

    Common CamasBy the way, the Common Camas shown here is not the same as the toxic Death Camas. The bulbs of this plant are quite edible and have been collected as a food source by the native Americans and Lewis & Clark.

    So far, this all seems great. I’ve finally photographed the Larkspur and discovered some Camas in the yard. You know what’s not so great? Trying to photograph these flowers. I’ve now been starting to walk for two weeks, but my leg is far from healed. I can bend my knee more than 90º, but still not all the way, and I surely can’t get into all of the positions I’d like to be in to photograph small flowers on the ground. It took some fancy maneuvering to get me on the ground only to find I was too close for my lens’s focusing abilities. I really do need a true macro lens for this work. I also can’t wait until I can properly kneel and roll around as needed for wildflower photography.

    Ok, so that brings us to Sunday. I really wanted to go for a scenic drive with some geocaches to find along the way. Since it was already 2:00 before we were going to leave, I chose a route relatively close to home: Mary McCroskey State Park. This park is located just north of Potlatch in the mountains bordering the Palouse. The road through the park is named Skyline Drive. Like the more famous road of the same name, it’s a very scenic drive, but the similarities end there. This drive is unpaved and doesn’t contain pull-off overlooks. It’s not much different from a well-maintained Forest Service road. The route does wind its way through a mix of old-growth and logged habitats, and the abundance of wildflowers is nothing short of amazing.

    At this time, the Trillium were at the end of their flowering stage and the Calypso orchids were out in full bloom. On parts of the drive, the bluebells were withering away, but in other locations, they were as strong as ever. In the midst of admiring all of the color, Erin noticed something new: a lily of fairly dull coloration with brown splotches. This flower was so camouflaged that I couldn’t even find it when we first stopped to look at it. This is the Chocolate Lily (Fritillaria lanceolata), and for all of its “dullness” on the outside, this is really one beautiful flower on the inside. Once we found this flower, we saw it everywhere along the rest of the drive. In fact, it may be the dominant flower in bloom on this day.

    Chocolate Lily

    Today was also Erin’s first sighting of Clematis in the wild. I had seen this flower before, but it was never in a pretty location to get a good picture of it. In fact, I thought the Clematis was a non-native, but I was wrong about that one. It’s just as native as the Larkspur.

    As we made our way closer to the Palouse, the habitat and the floral communities changed. The cedar and spruce gave way to pines and the forest became more open and dry. The yellow flowers — Heart-leaved Arnica and Arrowleaf Balsamroot — became the dominant flowers. Shooting star became more common as well. The last surprise of the day was a Lupine in full bloom out in a clearing before we headed down the mountain to return home.

    It was a great day to be out exploring and enjoying the landscape. It was a bit hazy to really enjoy the wide open views of the mountains and the Palouse, but there aren’t very many of those on this road anyway. The real gem is enjoying the flora and fauna of the forest. Later, when I can walk again, I’ll return and enjoy some of the many trails in the park and see what’s available away from the road. I’ll have to return anyway. I only logged two geocaches and there are more to be found.

  • Turnbull National Wildlife Refuge

    I had to go to Spokane for a follow-up appointment with the orthopedic surgeon, and it happened to be a nice day, so I suggested that while we were up there, we should go to the Turnbull National Wildlife Refuge and spend some time outdoors. I’ve known the refuge was there and have always wanted to check it out, but I’ve always put it off. Since it has some handicap accessible trails, this was a good time to check it out.

    Wildlife refuges are different than your typical national forest or national park lands. Their primary goal is to protect habitat for wildlife. Recreation comes second, which explains why most of the refuge is closed to visitors. Turnbull has some hiking trails, but not a large and extensive network of trails. These are good for gentle walks where hunting and wildlife viewing are the main objectives. The refuge itself is on a fairly flat landscape with an open savannah-like forest. It’s dotted with lakes and marshlands which bring in all kinds of birds. On this mid-march day, we saw lots of Ring-necked duck and American Wigeon, but not nearly the array of waterfowl down in Lewiston. I suppose we were a few weeks early since one of the lakes with a bird blind still had a significant chunk of ice over it. I also wonder if we would see more early in the morning. Instead, we hit the last few hours where the waterfowl were settling in for the evening and the songbirds were coming out for their last feeding of the day.

    The refuge has a 5-mile auto loop with several small hiking loops along the way. Some of these are paved for disabled visitors such as myself, though I look forward to coming back when I can walk the other trails too. The refuge is a really nice birding paradise, and is also a good place to find moose and elk.

    For more invormation, visit the official refuge page.

  • The Ski Trip to End All Ski Trips

    February 17th began as any other trip to McCall. I rolled out of bed around 5:00 am, packed the car with my gear, and 20 minutes later, I was leaving for Moscow to meet up with Tyler and Genevieve. We made it to Brundage around 10:30 local time and headed straight to the Centenial chair where we met up with Chloe, Ben, and some of Chloe’s family. We had a good day on the mountain, but stuck to the groomed runs and trails because there hadn’t been any fresh powder in over a week.The first thing we noticed was how crowded the resort was. This was the first time we had to wait in line to ride Centenial. Later on, we headed over to Bluebird Express where the wait for the lift was ridiculous. We skied a short day, but really, we got in more runs in four hours than we would normally get playing in the trees on a full day. We came off the mountain exhausted, but happy that we had chosen to come down this weekend.

    After winding down with a few drinks in the lodge, we headed to the hotel to check in and change for Tyler and Gen’s maternity shoot. They had offered to buy me two days of skiing in exchange for a couple of photography sessions, and we decided to cash in on one of them at Ponderosa State Park. It was fun, and some of the results are available here. We closed out the evening with a soak in the hot tub at the hotel and called it an early night so that we could get an early start on Monday and beat the crowds.

    The funny thing is, for a 3-day holiday weekend, we barely saw any people on Monday. This isn’t the first time I’ve noticed this trend. On Memorial Day and Labor Day weekend, people seem to clear out Monday morning leaving trails and campgrounds wide open. Their loss, I guess. It was nice to have no lift line and and no crowds of people to dodge on the slopes. I decided to bring the GPS with me to track stats for the day.

    Tyler and I took our first run down the speedy 45th Parallel, one of my favorite runs of the mountain. 45th starts with a nice drop to get you going but continues on a fairly straight track. It “levels” out a little about 2/3 of the way down, and then drops down along the ridge spine around a small curve to the steepest part of the drop. You can build up quite a bit of speed here if there aren’t too many people in front of you, and generally it’s ok to do so because the drop ends with a long level runway leading to the lift. I tend to head into a racing tuck to take the last drop and then stand up and let my coat parachute me to a stop. On this run, I made a top speed of 68.8 mph, and that would remain my top speed for the rest of the day.

    The other great run for building speed is Alpine. This is also the run used for races. Alpine starts between the Bluebird and Centenial chairs and pretty much descends straight down the face of the mountain. It’s not as steep as 45th Parallel, but it can still be fun. In fact, the allure is a short up-hill cat track to the top of the Bear Chair lift, and the goal is to make enough speed to get to the little snack hut atop the knob without any pushes or skates. This is where I clocked myself at 58 mph last year.

    Overall, it was a fairly quick day. In an hour, we had completed four full runs down the mountain, each run about 1.5 miles and 1600 feet of vertical drop. When we met up with Chloe and Ben, we put two more runs behind us. The longest run was a 2.5 mile 1800 ft. decent from the top of Bluebird to the bottom of Centenial via Lakeview Ridge and Temptation. It takes about 10 minutes due to some cat track sections, but it’s a fun one to take. On the 12th run, I challenged Ben to a mogul run, which he took with no sweat, but I took much slower.

    And then there was the last run of the day. Apparently, there is much dread around “the last run” that many people just don’t even take it. Hell, even my last ski accident in 12th grade was on a “last run.” On this run, we chose to finish on Engen, a trail that follows the Centenial lift most of the way down the mountain, but affords us an easy access to the lower parking lot where the car was located. In hindsight, there are a number of decisions I made that, if done differently, could have altered the outcome of the day. My friends all turned off of Engen onto Skid Row. I decided to keep going and ride the cat track at the bottom out to the car. I was running the trail quite well and thought that maybe I could beat my speed for the day. But really, I should not have taken the last run of the day so fast. It’s one thing on fresh legs. It’s another when you’re tired and ready to quit. I should have had my edges sharpenend as I was having trouble making sharp turns. But most of all, I just shouldn’t have chosen this trail for a speed trial because it does turn into a cat track rather than make a straight run. As I descended that final drop, I knew I wasn’t going to make it onto the cat track. And so, in the final seconds, I decided to hit the snow and slow down as much as I could before smacking into the trees. I was thrown into the air and landed uncomfortably on my side. I couldn’t move. I knew something was broken. I immediately started calling for help.

    It wasn’t long before another skier came by and stopped to help. He got my phone out of my jacket and called for the ski patrol. I wasn’t aware of it at the time, but someone on the lift saw the whole thing and also called 9-1-1. It seemed like an eternity before the ski patrol finally arrived, and even longer before they were able to transition my mangled body onto a stretcher. By that time, I was getting sore from laying uncofortably and cold from lying on the snow. I would only begin to feel the pains of my injuries after being moved and stabilized. They skied me out to the lower parking lot, hooked me up to a snowmobile, and brought me to the upper parking lot where an ambulance was waiting to take me to the McCall hospital.

    Once I was warmed up and pumped full of pain meds, I felt fine, at least as fine as I could be in that situation. Luckily, I had no head injuries. I attribute that to my quick thinking moments before hitting the tree. But it could have been bad. I wasn’t wearing a helmet, and the GPS recorded me at 51 mph when the impact occured. So what are the final results? I broke my left humorous into 3 pieces, severed my right femur near the ball, broke my right tibia near the knee, fractured ribs 10 and 11 on my left side, suffered chest and possibly heart contusions, though my heart seems to be doing fine since the administration of some beta-blockers. This was all too much for the little hospital in McCall, so I was flown by plane to Spokane for my treatment. All the breaks had to be fixed surgically. I now have pins, screws, and plates in my left arm and right leg. My other leg and arm are just fine. Surgery went well and recovery seems to be going smoothly. I was brought home on Monday, though recovery will be a long and arduous process. Suffice to say, I’m done skiing for the season, and probably next season as well. I may be out for the hiking season this year, though by September, I could be up for some easy trails. It will be a few weeks before I can hold a camera, and a few months before I can walk.

    In the mean time, I’m healing quite well and every day I’m getting stronger. So while there won’t be any new adventure stories from me in the near future, it won’t be long until I’m out and about again.

  • Winter Hike to Jerry Johnson Hot Springs

    Jerry Johnson Hot Springs #2

    Last weekend, I reported on a snowshoe hike along the Potlatch River and alluded to a second snowshoe adventure the same weekend. In fact, we had planned a little excursion out along Rt. 12 to Jerry Johnson hot springs. It turned out that the hot springs are still popular in winter, at least enough so that the one-mile trail was packed down such that we didn’t need snowshoes after all. So, for the second time this season, a snowshoe hike simply became a winter hike. While we were all looking forward to snowshoeing in, the real goal was to soak in the steamy pools beside the ice-cold creek, and in that regard, this trip was very much a success.

    Warm Springs pack bridgeThe hike begins by crossing the Lochsa River over a pack bridge. Once on the other side, you walk through a beautiful forest along the banks of Warm Springs Creek. On this trip, it was a formidable winter wonderland with deep snow along the banks of the creek and sitting atop any rocks not submerged. There was a mixture of ice and free-flowing water, with some submerged ice clinging to the river bed. Make no mistake, this water was cold. In fact, we passed one family on their way out who had tried to jump into the first hot spring pool. At this pool, the hot water falls out of a cliff and collects along the side of the creek. During most of the year, the hot pool is either submerged or highly mixed with the creek water. The mother had undressed and jumped right in without testing the water first, and she received quite a surprise in doing so. The next pools were not much farther ahead, but it made no difference. The cold water was enough to send this family right back to the car.

    In fact, the next pool wasn’t very much beyond the first one… maybe .2 mile or so. When we reached it, there were two families with children who were finishing up their soak. They told us that the third pool had been pretty trashed with beer cans and spaghetti-o’s littering the ground, but they had only heard that from the ranger. While they were getting out, I decided to go check out the third pool just to see what it was all about. It turned out that it wasn’t quite as trashed as the other people made it out to be and could have been perfectly good for us. This pool overlooked an open meadow with views of the mountains in the background and direct radiation from the sun. The only problem: it was lukewarm. So, we went back to the second pool which, despite its location in the shade, had the hottest temperature of any of the pools that day.

    Winter WonderlandNone of the pools were extremely hot. The guide book says that the springs register at 115º at their source, but the pool felt like bath water. It was just hot enough to warm the soul, and cool enough to stay in comfortably for a few hours.

    But what’s the fun in that? I challenged Tyler to take a little dip in the creek, so we walked down, wondering if this would be the end of us, and waded in. I’ve jumped into swimming pools straight from hot tubs before, and that’s enough of a temperature difference to cause some discomfort. But when getting out of a hot spring and stepping into (literally) ice-cold water, that just causes pain. In fact, I could only stay in up to my waiste for about 10 seconds before my legs went completely numb. Thankfully, there was a warm pool right next to the creek where we could let our feet thaw before getting back in the hot pool.

    We were quite lucky to have the pool to ourselves. As we arrived, the families in the pool were drying off and packing up. There were two small groups behind us that went to the third pool. By the time we were ready to pack up ourselves, a few more groups showed up, and we passed some more coming in on our way out. So, really, we timed it perfectly.

    Winter is the best time to visit these hot springs. Although they are still popular, they can get quite crowded in the summer, so you’re much more likely to have some extra space while there is snow on the ground. Besides, the hot water feels much better when complimented by a crisp winter day. I think another visit might be in store before spring arrives.

    Trash on the trailNote: While the hot springs themselves were in pretty good condition, the trail was littered with beer cans and bottles. It was pretty bad to the point of causing aggravation. I’m not sure what goes through someone’s mind that makes it ok to just dump their trash in a nice beautiful setting, but if this is something you do or have done, please don’t ever do it again. Carry your trash out and dispose of it properly. It’s the only way we can continue to have beautiful and special places like this.

  • Snowshoeing: Palouse Divide

    Palouse Divide

    I must have forgotten to post about this trip. This was last week, January 5, 2013. This was Idaho Parks and Recreation’s free day in which no parking pass was required to use the Park n’ Ski areas or any of the state parks. There are two Park n’ Ski areas near Moscow: Elk River and Palouse Divide. The Park n’ Ski areas are generally groomed nordic ski trails, but some of them are good for snowshoeing as well. Since the hike to Elk River falls would have been more than 2 miles one-way, I suggested we head up to Palouse Divide where a short trail would take us to a view over the St. Maries River valley. It would only be a mile to the view with the option to continue snowshoeing if we felt the trip was too short.

    When we got to the snow park, I noticed that the first part of our trail was cleared for logging traffic. About .1 miles in, we found what looked like a nice trail that left the road and headed up, but that trail soon disappeared and after consulting the GPS, I decided that our real trail was up the road a bit. Of course, when we got there, we found that the entire trail to the Emida View was in fact plowed for the logging trucks. So, we had a nice walk along the road, but the snowshoes were unnecessary.

    The views along this road are quite nice, and we had some special weather effects to make the experience a bit more magical. The first thing we notice are some snow-capped peaks in the distance, part of the St. Joe mountains behind St. Maries.  A little further down the road, the view opened up to the east exposing the rounded hills of the Palouse Divide. In the distance, we could make out the high peaks of the Freezeout Saddle area, but more immediately, Bald Mountain rose up as the highest point in the range. But here’s the cool part: In the valley, the mist had concentrated into a nice cloud below us. It’s a condition I have been waiting forever to photograph.

    We ended up hiking well beyond the view, thinking that there would be an even clearer view up ahead, but eventually, we stopped for lunch and turned back. Since we didn’t get to use our snowshoes, I led a few people on a “short cut” off trail back to the parking area. While we had fun tromping through the 2-feet of powder, it turned out to be harder than we expected. Shadow figured it out with no problem. Greta kept getting stuck in some deep spots, though she eventually made it. Once we intercepted the old logging road, the rest of the hike was a breeze.

    Palouse Divide seems like a nice place to explore the winter mountains of north-central Idaho, but either we’ll have to explore the other side which is not open to logging trucks, or cross-country ski it. This one seems like a better place to ski.

    First view of mountains Emida View

  • Snowshoeing: Spud Hill

    Heading Down

    This snowshoeing thing is taking off, and if I keep this up, I’ll be in shape enough to not suck at hiking at the beginning of the hiking season. This week’s adventure brings us up Spud Hill, also known by some as Mount Deary. Spud Hill was my first Idaho summit, and it’s a great little local hike that I often overlook. But I’ve always wanted to hike it in the winter, and today, Spud Hill became my first winter Idaho summit.

    The one difference between snowshoeing and hiking, aside from the snow on the ground, is that distances seem longer than they would on bare ground. For example, during the last half-mile after we leave the main road, the trail switch backs and makes one last steep hurrah for the summit. Today, that section to the switchback seemed to go on longer than I remembered it. Perhaps its because each step takes so much more energy in the deep snow. On the other hand, that last steep ascent is much easier in snowshoes than in the summer when the loose gravel tends to give way under your feet.

    In all, it was a great day. When C.J. and E.T. arrived at my house, they got stuck in the driveway and subsequently slid off the drive into the snow while backing down. We tried everything to get her car out, but evenually resorted to shovelling out a short path to the road behind her. That fun bout of problem sovling did cost us about an hour of hiking time. But no matter, we made it to the summit and back in about 3 hours.

    The view from the top was beautiful. The Palouse was all covered in white, and the afternoon sun was golden. It wasn’t the clearest day, but sometimes, that makes the view more dramatic. The trees were still covered in snow, so it felt like we were exploring a winter wonderland. Then again, perhaps this part of Idaho is a winter wonderland. But see for yourself. Click on the image above to see more photographs from this hike.

  • A walk in the snow

    A layer of mist hovers over the snow behind the house.
    A layer of mist hovers over the snow behind the house.

    Well, now that Winter has finally arrived, we thought it might be fun to tromp through the snow and get some exercise. I dusted off the snowshoes (literally) and we set off for a little hike out of our back yard. As we began our trek, I noticed an awesome mist hovering over the snow, and since we hadn’t left the yard yet, we turned back to get my camera.

    We were walking in snow that had not been disturbed, so it was quite soft and difficult, even with snowshoes. In fact, in the hour that we were out, we only managed to travel about .3 miles. Nonetheless, we had fun, and the dogs certainly enjoyed themselves. Greta loves the snow. It’s quite possibly her favorite thing all year round. When the snow accumulates, she become giddy like a puppy. She also likes to pretend she’s a wild dog by sticking her face into the snow as if to hunt mice running around beneath. Shadow also enjoys the snow. While she doesn’t quite act like a puppy, her favorite thing to do is roll around in it. It’s the first thing she’ll do, especially when we encounter summer snow patches in the high elevation.

    Shadow shows off her beard of snow.
    Shadow shows off her beard of snow.
    Wild dogs, such as coyotes and foxes, are able to hunt even when the snow is six feet deep. Greta likes to pretend she is a wild dog.
    Wild dogs, such as coyotes and foxes, are able to hunt even when the snow is six feet deep. Greta likes to pretend she is a wild dog.

    By the end of our little walk, the sun had set and the mist had accumulated at the bottom of our neighbor’s field making a really neat scene. See some more photos from our walk below. Tomorrow, I think I’ll take the snowshoes out and explore some of the forest trails nearby.

    The mist on the snow had accumulated at the bottom of our neighbor's field.
    The mist on the snow had accumulated at the bottom of our neighbor’s field.

  • Thanksgiving, Parts II & III

    Night Approaches
    Las Vegas from Lone Mountain

    Holy smokes, it’s almost Christmas and I never really finished posting about my Thanksgiving trip to Las Vegas. So, I’m going to give the abbreviated version of the rest of the trip and then move on to some more current events.

    When I visit Las Vegas, it’s not for the usual reasons that most people go for. This is the second time I’ve been in the city, and I still haven’t been down to the strip or inside a casino. But it’s the second time I’ve been down there to visit TJ and Clare. TJ is one of my best friends from high school, and when we left for college, he joined the Air Force, so we’ve only seen each other a handful of times since then. It seems to be every two or three years for weddings, but now that our high school posse is nearly all married off, we’re going to have to come up with new reasons to get together.

    TJ has the distinct advantage of living near the edge of town. That’s really an advantage for me for everything I love about Last Vegas is outside of town. He lives in the northwest corner only a few miles from a little desert oasis called Lone Mountain. This 800-foot hill has a few parks at its base where he and Clare like to bring their daughter to play on the playground equipment. There are actually tons of little city parks like these with picnic pavilions and playgrounds all dispersed throughout the city. But Lone Mountain also has a small piece of desert wilderness. The mountain itself is not technically a city park, but it seems to get quite a bit of recreational use. There is a trail to the summit where the view over the city is actually pretty nice. So on our first morning, we all went to the park. Well, almost everyone. Erin stayed back, not feeling very well. But Sophie and the dogs had fun playing on the jungle gyms.

    Erin was feeling better later that afternoon, so we took a little drive that led us back to Lone Mountain. We decided to walk around the mountain a bit, and I was surprised when we actually made it all the way to the summit in time to catch the sunset. In hindsight, I would have brought a headlamp, but we managed to make our way back down in the dark just fine.

    The next day, we headed out to Mt. Charleston to hike further out. Erin and I drove up to the Kyle Canyon trailhead on our previous visit, but that was right before TJ and Clare’s wedding, so we didn’t have much time to hike and explore. This time, we had their 2-year old daughter, so we wouldn’t be going very far, but this trip was more for the enjoyment of being out with friends rather than making miles. We ended up hiking a mile up the trail before turning back. Two miles for a two-year old is pretty good.

    Kyle Canyon
    TJ, Clare, and Sophie hiking in Kyle Canyon.

    Aside from getting out and enjoying the warm sunshine, we had fun catching up while playing board games. I really miss having my game friends readily accessible. We played some Settlers of Catan, Alhambra, Ticket to Ride, Munchkin, and a new one for me: Mystery at the Abbey.

    On Thanksgiving, Clare’s parents came over and we had a wonderful meal and too much food to eat. I would go back again just for the food. Sadly, we left Friday morning for the long drive home.

    We took the first part of Friday’s drive pretty leisurely. The nice thing about this drive is that we got to see everything that we missed on the drive down. We drove the segment from Ely to Las Vegas in the dark. Once again, we reached Ely just after sunset, but I got to see a different part of the state. About an hour out of town, we stopped at at the Pahrangat National Wildlife Refuge to view some ducks sitting on the water. This is a neat spot where there are several natural lakes in the middle of the desert. It was also warm enough that I would have camped at the campground if I had enough time. We made one other stop just before reaching Caliente. I passed a sign for the Oak Springs Trilobite Area, and as soon as I saw it, I turned around to see what it was. There’s an area where shale containing trilobite fossils is exposed to the surface, and collecting is allowed. So, we took some time to find some trilobites. The majority of the fossils were only of the heads, so I collected no full-body specimines. But, these were my first trilobite finds, so I’m pretty excited.

    The road beyond Caliente runs behind some of the highest mountains in the state. While we were at 6000 feet in the valley, Wheeler Peak in Great Basin National Park stood towering another 7000 feet above us. It was such a majestic sight, and even better to catch it just as the sun was setting below the horizon.

    Sunset and Wheeler Peak
    Wheeler Peak, Nevada’s second highest mountain, at sunset.

    The drive from Ely to Twin Falls is really long in the dark. The road is very straight and the drive gets old fast when there is nothing to look at. It’s a full two hours to the next town, and when we arrived in Wells, I was really considering stopping for the night. I didn’t help that Erin wasn’t feeling well either, but I knew if I stopped, we’d have an even longer day of driving the next day. So, we continued on through, spending the night in Twin Falls.

    It was also nice to see the scenery between Twin Falls and McCall during the daylight. The weather in Idaho wasn’t quite as pleasant as the weather in southern Nevada. It was cold, overcast, and for much of the drive, raining. This resulted in fewer stops which actually got us home at a decent hour.

    This short trip has ignited my wanderlust. I really want to load up the car and just see the country with no real time limits and the freedom to just stop and explore on a whim. I also want to head south for the winter, but now that the ski season has arrived, I might just be willing to stay up north.

  • Thanksgiving in Las Vegas, Part 1: The drive down

    Las Vegas from Lone Mountain

    One of my best friends from high school invited Erin and I down to Las Vegas for Thanksgiving. In fact, we were invited down last year, but we weren’t able to make it. Therefore, I decided that we’d make it work this year. Erin still wanted to host our annual Thanksgiving dinner at our house, so we had one on Saturday before everyone left for their break, and on Sunday, we packed up the car and headed south.

    This trip has a lot of firsts in it for me. It was my first time venturing south of McCall, my first time stopping in Boise, my first time driving through Nevada. It wasn’t my first time in Las Vegas, however. If you recall, I had actually been in the city four years earlier for this same friend’s wedding.

    I love road trips because it’s a chance to see new places with freedom along the journey. It’s the freedom to stop spontaneously to explore attractions that come up without prior knowledge. It’s the freedom to bring dogs with you, which we did. And in some cases, it’s cheaper than flying. But road tripping in the winter has its downsides, the biggest of which is the short daylight cycle. We spent Sunday morning cleaning up the house and packing, which meant we didn’t get on the road until after noon. This gave us about 4 hours of daylight, so by the time we reached Cascade, it was dark. I enjoy watching the scenery as I drive. It’s what keeps me awake and interested. But the drive from Cascade to Boise, and then Boise to Twin Falls was completed in the dark. A similar situation occured the next day, but resulted from a different cause.

    We actually woke up fairly early on Monday, checking out of the hotel a little after 9:00 and grabbed breakfast at the nearby Shari’s. But, Twin Falls had something I wanted to see: the falls. Just north of town, the Snake River cuts a fairly deep slot canyon in the valley, and here, the river tubmles 212 feet down Shoshone Falls. So we drove out to the falls after breakfast and played around for a while, taking the dogs on a walk to one of the overlooks and just enjoying the warm air and sunshine. It was a beautiful sight, but by the time we actually hit the road, it was noon again.

    Shoshone Falls

    From Twin Falls, it’s about an hour to the Nevada Border where the small casino town of Jackpot lies. It’s about another hour to Wells, where we intersect I-80, but continue through. It’s about 2 more hours to the town of Ely, gateway to the Great Basin. But between Wells and Ely, there is virtually nothing. In fact, there was a sign just out of wells reading “Next Gas 126 Miles.” To add to the nothingness, the road is fairly straight, often continuing for 10 miles without requiring the use of the steering wheel. There is only one major intersection in this stretch, and there used to be a gas station there. Now it sits empty and the residents have an army of peacocks.

    As desolate as northern Nevada might be, it’s not all bad. The valleys are wide and flat, but flanked by some rather tall mountain ranges. It’s particularly nice to drive in November because the mountains are snow-capped, though had this been late Spring or early Fall, I would have been tempted to take a side road into the mountains and camp.

    Ruby Mountains

    By the time we made it to Ely, it was dark, which meant no more gawking at the awesome landscape. It also meant a 4-hour drive in the dark, which just made the time go by that much slower. Driving through Nevada just makes you aware of how lonely you can be. This landscape is dark at night. If you’ve never driven through these parts of the destert Southwest at night, you have no idea just how dark it is. This is one of the only places in the lower 48 states where the light pollution drops to almost zero. In that regard, Nevada is awesome. I just wish it had been a clear night. As we got closer and closer to the city, I began to notice a faint glow emanating from the southern mountains. It became apparant just how bright civilization can be as we approached our intersection with I-15. The truck stop in the middle of the desert put out more light than the entire town of Deary during a football game. Once on the interstate, we were about 15 miles out of town. As we crested over the final pass, the ocean of light revealed itself. Suddenly, you go from feeling completely alone to wondering if you were going to have any personal space in the valley. In any other metropolitan area, the transition from rural to urban is somewhat gradual. In Las Vegas, it’s as stark as transitioning from dry land to ocean.

    Urban Light

    Welcome to suburban sprawl in the southwest.

    Coming up…

    Part II: Visiting friends and playing in the desert.
    Part III: The drive up.

  • Labor Day Weekend: Backpacking the Seven Devils

    He Devil reflections

    This is the story of how Dan Beck and I ended up spending much of our Labor Day weekend in the backcountry of one of Idaho’s most scenic and rugged mountain ranges, the Seven Devils.

    It begins over a week before when I sent out a message for a backpacking trip over Labor Day weekend. I suggested a 3-night trip into the Eagle Cap Wilderness with an emphasis on summiting peaks rather than counting long miles. I had some interest and was all set for our 3rd annual Wallowas weekend, when some of the members decided it would be a good time to go fishing in the backcountry lakes. Rather than pay for an out of state license, the idea was to hike in Idaho at the Seven Devils. I just wanted to get out in the wilderness, so the Seven Devils became our new destination. When the five of us met to cover logistics, at least two members voiced that they would rather be home on Monday to work on projects. So, we cut the trip down to two nighs instead of three. Shortly after, one dropped out in order to finish assignments, and on Friday morning, two more dropped out for personal reasons. At this point, I was wondering if I would have to find a place to go solo, but Dan, who was really in it for the fishing, still wanted to get out of town. So we set off for the Seven Devils for a weekend away from the modern world.

    Dan standing at Goat Pass

    We began our hike on Friday afternoon, heading over the climber’s route to Sheep Lake. This is the path that whooped our whole group last year as a day hike, but after considering the alternative 9+ mile hike to the lake, this route is quicker and easier, even at a reduced pace. In fact, it turned out to not be bad at all for a one-way trip, even with packs on. We made it to the lake with sunshine to spare while we searchd for a good campsite for the night. As a holiday weekend, I expected the area to be fairly crowded, and when we got to Sheep Lake, all of the nice camp sites were taken. But in general, the parking lot at the trailhead was emptier than I expected. Apparently, many people begin their long weekend on Saturday. Despite the “crowd,” we still found our piece of solitude next to the lake where we had everything set up before the sun set.

    When I finally woke up Saturday morning, Dan had already been up and fishing. I missed the early minutes of sunrise, but concluded that there probably wasn’t much to see in the way of an alpenglow from our location. But the golden sun gowing off of the summit of He Devil was slowly making its way down toward the lake. I grabbed the camera and set off to find a nice place to photograph the morning. Another group had told me of some mountain goats hanging out near the point where the climber’s route drops into the lake basin. I headed over that way and sure enough, there was a family hanging out on a ledge. I switched lenses and tried to sneak closer, but when I emerged from behind a rock, they had run away.

    We stayed at Sheep Lake late into the morning and then packed up for the Bernard Lakes and Dry Diggins lookout. The Sheep Lake trail rises up over a small ridge at the north end of the lake and down into the adjacent basin where there are a string of smaller lakes with fish more likely to bite a lure. We stopped for lunch at Basin Lake where a couple of larger groups were camping and fishing. In the short time we were there, Dan had hooked a nice Rainbow trout in such a way that he couldn’t just release it back into the water. Since we were hiking another couple of hours and didn’t want to carry a fresh fish that long, we gave it to the group of campers to cook up.

    We intended to turn south on the Seven Devils trail and hike the ridge to Dry Diggins lookout before descending to the Bernard Lakes, but we missed that turn and found ourselves at the Bernard Lakes Trail. The trail descends steeply into a dry basin and ascends the opposite side to get to the lakes. By this time, we were quite tired, but at least we were close to our destination. The first lake we came to was a shallow pond full of water lillies. The second lake, Lower Bernard, was bigger and deeper with fish jumping at the surface. The third lake was the largest, and presumably had the best fishing, but it turned out to be shallow and void of fish. It also lacked good camping locations. There was one on the opposite side of the lake that another pair of hikers took, so we made a site nearby. I’ll know next time to camp at the lower lake instead.

    Hell's Canyon

    We set up camp and Dan headed down to the water to fish. I headed up to the Dry Diggins lookout, about 1 mile and 500 feet of elevation gain away. It was good to hike without the weight on my back and I got to the tower with the hope of staying for sunset. Dry Diggins is a fire tower perched on the edge of Hells Canyon. At 7800 feet, the canyon drops over 6000 feeet directly to the Snake River, making this the deepest canyon in North America. The fire tower has been decomissioned, but the cabin is open and looks like it had been abandoned by its last inhabitants. The bed still has sheets on it, there’s still a stove and an empty water cooler. The last reports in the incident log are from 1989. Given the state of the cabin, I wouldn’t want to spend the night inside, but it does offer an emergency shelter if needed. I would love to see the tower restored and turned into a backcountry cabin or hiker’s shelter. Unforutnately, the nearest reliable water source is the Bernard Lakes, so if you want to spend the night up there, be prepared for dry camping or a long commute to get water.

    I intended to stay up there for sunset to capture the pink alpenglow on the Seven Devils, but with an hour to go, the temperatures were quickly dropping and the wind was picking up. Having left my warm layers back at the lakes, I decided it wasn’t worth sticking around and headed back. I caught the last of the sunlight on the summits of the Devils from Upper Bernard Lake. Saturday night was colder than Friday. I put both my bug net and tarp over the hammock to hold heat.

    Morning came and I got up just in time to bask in the first rays of sun to hit our campsite. Since we were farther from the high peaks, the sun hit earlier. We made breakfast and packed up camp and Dan headed down to the lower lake to fish. I decided to see how the morning view at the tower compared with the evening. It turns out that the smoke and haze had cleared out over night and the view was very clear. I could see details in the Wallowas on the other side of the canyons and even make out the Blue Mountains over 60 miles away. Saturday evening’s view was fairly good, but not this nice. Friday would have been a complete bust. The smoke was thick driving up the mountain that we could smell it in the air. I spent some time at the tower enjoying the view and reflecting on life. The scenery is so big that it really puts into perspective how small we are as individuals.

    I finally returned to the lakes, gathered my pack, and collected Dan from the lower lake. We set off back down the Bernard Lakes trail which headed down into the dry basin and up the other side. It was steep, but we slowly made it. Then we headed back to the car at Windy Saddle by way of the Seven Devils Trail. I knew that this trail headed down into Sheep Creek Basin and then back up, and that the elevation differnece would be about 1000 feet, but this had to be the longest 1000 feet ever. The trail crosses an open scree field as it makes its way into the basin. Upon reaching the “bottom,” the trail enters a nice lush forest and crosses the East and West forks of  Sheep Creek. This is where we stopped for lunch and to fill up with fresh water for the brutal ascent to come. The next two miles we climbed over 1000 feet through exposed scree fields in what seemed like the toughest hike I had ever done. In truth, I’ve hiked longer stretches of uphill gaining more elevation, but I think this was both mentally taxing and I was out of shape. I finally made it to the top where there is a spectacular view down the basin into Hells Canyon, and then the trail descends again before the final ascent to Windy Saddle.

    The GPS says I travelled 20 miles, but in reality, it was closer to 17 or 18. I was beat when I arrived at the car, glad to have only gone out two nights instead of three. I’m not sure if I’d ever take that route again, but in reality, if I’m prepared (and now I know what to expect), it might not be so bad. This was a tough hike, but I’d still recommend it for anyone visiting the area.

    More Photos.

    This is my third visit to the Seven Devils, and it won’t be my last. I’d love to bring more people out to the Dry Diggins lookout. I’d like to hike the whole loop around the Devils, visiting more lakes along the way. And I’d like to set up base camp and take some time to summit some of the peaks.

    Seven Devils