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Black and White Lakes,
Olympic National Park |
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Bob and I had to escape. We had to get away from the insanity called civilized living. More accurately, work. The IT world has seen some major changes over the years I have been in it. Overworked and, for the most part, underpaid as employees take on more responsibilities and receive smaller raises for their efforts. I can imagine it is like that for most of the US, if not the world. I am blessed to be working though as I have kids to raise, but a mental break was still badly needed. My animal-like daughter wanted to come with, so we all took off right after work, heading towards Hoodsport. After arriving, I got camp set up before generating a roaring fire. We cooked some dogs before Amber crawled inside the tarp to read herself to sleep while Bob and I opened a couple cool ones and reflected how much we enjoyed the freedom of such places. After all, being one of the two parties occupying the 56 site campground, we virtually had the whole place to ourselves.
My plan was simple. Camp overnight at Staircase. Hike up to Black and White lakes Saturday morning via the way trail and set up camp. I would then solo up Mt. Gladys. Sunday, hike to Flapjack Lakes before having lunch, then head out via it's trail to the North Fork Skokomish. I knew today was going to be a tough day out and warned the others before they verbalized a release of liability.
Many times have I been proud of my little girl, but I really doubted she could make the climb today. The ridge route was a killer as it climbs 3000 feet in scant 2.5 miles. To make matters worse for her, the climb happens after a five and a half mile hike sporting a modest grade.
Fall was in the air as I cranked up the pace to three and a half miles per hour. I breathed in the cold, crisp, fresh air deeply. I needed at least a little time to myself for reflection and as it was at least two hours until the climb, I knew I would get it.
Lately, things have been so busy that days are passing my like hours. That is not the way to live, at least, not the way to enjoy living. Out in the wild, for me, is the only way I can remind myself of this. How to make changes are another issue and certainly not one to contemplate during a short weekend's trip. I found a flat spot to park my butt and have a think while I let the others catch up.
Amber and Bob made their way to me and I joined them before Amber took my hand and walked with me past the junction to Flapjack Lakes. The trail rose gently as we made our way to the way trail. I tried to pump the other's up but I think I annoyed them more with shouts in imitated voices I not dare disclose.
Soon after starting, the trail hit us with unrelenting switchbacks that did little to soften the steep grade. To me, it was not any worse than Mt. Defiance in the gorge and only half the distance. But it was quickly taking it's toll on Amber. She was powering her way up, leaving Bob a bit behind her as I stopped and waited. I was feeling great and offered to take her pack. Amber's light pack felt heavier than it was as it leveraged itself off the back of mine. Bob soon showed up and we plodded on. As the trail started to offer a little relief, I took a rest to wait for the others. I quickly donned my jacket as the breeze was chilling this high up. I stuffed my jacket with Amber's jacket and got some hot cocoa warming. I broke out some cheese and crackers and rested. Fifteen minutes went by before I saw Amber slogging her way up towards me as I welcomed her with all her now-warm gear. We all met up on a flatter part of the trail and ate.
It was cold. Cold enough to wonder where the snow was as we packed up and made the rest of the climb towards the junction. As my guidebook said that the trail had fallen into disuse, I beg to differ as it was in rather great shape all the way to the junction. Bob was nowhere to be found, but I assumed he was just taking his time and not far behind. Amber and I climbed on.
We made our way up to the lakes as I scouted around for a campsite. We went half way around the lake until returning back to the outlet of the lake. There was a low spot where melt water would normally settle that made for a perfect, sheltered place to pitch the tarp. Up went our tarp and in went our gear.
The mist started to clear as I made my way around the lake with my camera snapping all the way. The scenery was better than my topo had led me to believe.
By the looks of the land, not many people had seen this place, or at least, not many camped here. There were several places, but only one looked as though someone had camped there.
The patches of snow on the ground verified the cold that I had felt earlier. As I watched the sun sink into the western mountains, a feeling of melancholy came over me as I knew I would not have enough time to climb Gladys today.
On the other side of the lake, I had to watch every step as there was bear scat everywhere. Some of which were enormous piles that only larger bruin could expel. I tried to enjoy the land without stepping in a fresh platter-sized five inch high pile of berry poo.
The land around me looked remarkable as I could see our camp from across the lake. I dreamt of a show like this, but did not honestly think I would get it this late in the year. Contemplation continued. My thoughts were soon interrupted by this strange layer of something all over me. It was hard, cold, rough. It was ice. How it came to be that every single thing I had laying out was covered in a layer of ice within 30 minutes was beyond me. I glanced at my thermometer displaying a bracing 24 degrees.
Meanwhile, Bob was having his own Zen experience as the time here was doing him good. Knowing Bob over the years has been a blessing to me, a privilege if you will, as there are not many like him left in society today; a loving husband, father, and old-school family man. After a gourmet meal of spaghetti and meat sauce, we were all beat and retired to our respective shelters for the night.
It was 1:30am when I awoke. I could hear it outside, thrashing the bushes just feet above our tarp. I could even hear the flapping of Bob's 4.5 pound PCT1. Oddly, the air felt warm as I deducted some warm front must have quickly moved in, upsetting the icy cold, still air that I went to bed in. But here we were in our two pound fortress that was not in the slight bit disquieting. I mentally thanked Ryan for my site selection knowledge and slipped quickly back to sleep. I half expected the wind to settle down by eight, but it was as strong as ever. I was not about to climb Gladys this morning in this wind. If it was this bad here, I did not want to think what it would be like another thousand feet up. Amber woke up when I did and immediately expressed her hunger pangs to me in a most dramatic fashion, provoking me to quickly make some cereal with milk.
We slowly got camp packed up in the wind as Bob was already on his way out. I figured we would catch him somewhere down the trail. I just hoped that he knew what spur towards Flapjack Lakes to take as it was not marked. We took off along the lake and descended it's northern side. As soon as we were below the lakes, the wind was blocked by the trees, giving us the opportunity to talk. We hit snow on the way down to the junction for Flapjacks. Amber thought this rather cool; no pun intended.
Amber and I took an older route to the lakes, practicing some route finding skills and met up with Bobby there. We huffed our way to the lakes and had lunch. The sun came up over the Sawtooth Ridge and showered us with warmth. It was so peaceful here as there were only two camp sites being used.
Amber is no noob to backpacking. She has done more than most people I know that call themselves "backpackers". The fact that she knows what to do while going UL, or even SUL, is impressive. The fact that she enjoys it is astonishing. She is becoming self sufficient in the wild and will wonder off, but not too far off, to rest in a spot that suits her.
On the way back, she stopped at one of Donahue Creek's small falls along the trail. "Daddy, this looks like a great picture spot." I agreed and showed her how to get a soft shot of the water by keeping the shutter open for a longer period of time. She thought this, again, "cool". The picture below was taken by my nine year old daughter.
I knew by all the trail reports from the past that the Madeline Creek bridge was a one-person-at-a-time crossing. Little did I expect it to have tape across it's endpoints. The tape was already untied when we arrived at the bridge so we thought we would give it a try. I went first and found out that the slick-as-ice surface could cause quite the injury if disrespected. Amber made it across as did Bob with only a minor slip at the end. I had Bob's arm and yanked him from a potential ankle injury. About 50 feet after the bridge we saw a reroute that I thought more dangerous than the bridge.
The trail tilted down as we made our way back towards the valley floor. We all took a small 20 minute break in the sun, lying back against the side of the ridge, silent, before moving on.
We quickly lost Bob as Amber is as fast downhill as she is uphill. We thought he just wanted some peace before the long drive home and gave him some distance.
We soon reached the junction with the Skokomish and headed for the car. Bob had given me the keys earlier in case we got there first so we just continued on our way after a mandatory success shot.
This Sunday just happened to be the day that they gated off the Park for winter at six. This Sunday just happened to be the longest we had purposely taken to get back to the car. This Sunday had been the first time Bob got turned around on one of the switchbacks and ended up backtracking some distance before correcting his direction. At the car, after changing, I talked to the ranger after not seeing Bob for almost an hour. I had asked everyone walking our the park and no one had seen him except the last two guys. The spotted him heading back towards the lakes. I ran up the trial almost to the Flapjack Lakes junction and finally ran into him, a little pissed, but so relieved as I was praying he was not hurt. I shouldered his pack and we ran back to the car to let the ranger know everyone was ok before the gates closed, his car was towed, and I was arrested for abandoning my daughter. It really was not that bad, but seemed like it at the time. Thankful that the weekend really did turn out great, we made a b-line for B.K. before driving home.
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