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Loowit
Trail, Mt. St. Helens |
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Finally, the weather broke and cleared long enough to guide Amber around Mt. St. Helens via the Loowit Trail. With this year being the weirdest yet for me, I missed the simplicity of hiking. As we arrived, simplicity was still not within an arms length, but we made the best of it.
Goofing off was all too easy when we had the trail to ourselves. The plan was a simple one; get on the east flanks where we would make camp tonight, Saturday would get us past the Toutle, and Sunday would get us back to the car. Sounds easy, right?
About a half mile in, we came upon snow. SNOW! I have Helens trips dating within two weeks of this time years back and have never seen snow here in July. Aw well, I thought, when one has lemons...
My jaw dropped. There were too many lemons. The mountain sported a blanket equivalent to my summit in January of 2009. Like this whole year has been turning out, one more plan down the tube. Hiking has been difficult this year due to the weather and its results and I hate the gym as it a poor substitute.
I suppressed my pessimism and stayed positive for Amber's sake. We arrived quickly at the lake and found no snow. My hopes were climbing, but only slightly.
As the trail silted steeply up towards 216, I surveyed my queued thoughts. The lack of time in the out-of-doors had a severe impact on my ability to ponder any of the subjects. A personal growth project unwound in a direction I had not planned, but was a good one. While pushing myself too hard in the gym, too hard training for cycling, and working too many hours on the roof of our church (daily), I developed sciatica pain. The sciatica gave me time to reflect on my diet instead of all the exercise and the result was a loss of twelve pounds my first week, yet still eating a healthy amount of calories.
We made the Loowit, but my heart was not in it. I needed to think, to ponder, to analyze things that have happened, haven't happened, and may or may not happen. Such is the life of an INFJ. I just knew there would be no time to think because the trail would be covered and route finding would be a pain in the arse. I told Amber we would head counter-clockwise, not because it was better. I just did not care to climb the five feet of consolidated snow behind her to start route finding right this minute.
I had the trail until it cut through the woods. The blast zone does this "S" thing and you take a straight line through the woods to traverse the southeast corner of it. It can be a little misleading at the edge in summer, but now it was downright frustrating. With the trail under some five or six feet of snow, we just skirted the blast edge until we picked up the trail.
We went in and out of gullies, but still no trail and things were starting to get a little steeper. I knew we started a traverse to gain elevation but I was not exactly sure where and was afraid we missed it. I led the climb up and onto the blast area itself. As there was no snow, we just hopped from boulder to boulder, trying not to fall in between and break a leg. I found the area where, 21 years ago, my friend Jim and I climbed a steeper section out of the gully Amber and I were now in. I remember it because while climbing I almost got a cantaloupe-sized boulder in place of my head. Stupid kids.
We crossed too many gullies for my liking. A gully holds snow and the snow bridges the gaps between the boulders. The boulders are sometimes twelve feet tall and are already on top of more rock. The third time I fell through a bridge was the last as we made our way up away from the snow. I felt I was lucky three times and would not be a forth as each time only one leg broke through and was dangling below the snow in space. Eventually I scouted melting but successful lines that Amber could cross safely. I eventually found the trail and decided it was too late to move on farther.
I followed the trail back to June Lake as far as I could, but after a quarter mile, the brown trail turned white. I perused my map and made the best decisions I could with the daylight we had left. My sciatica pain was returning with a vengeance and made focusing rather difficult. The pain is not a muscular-type pain that one can overcome mentally, but rather nerve pain from inflamed surrounding tissues pinching the nerve.
Quickly enough, we stumbled onto our own north-bound footsteps and followed those back to the lake. Amber was as chatty as ever as she loved the fact we were heading to camp. I believed part of the reason for the child's giddiness was the lake's wildlife. As there was only three other people (a dad with his two children) we had the lake to ourselves. I set up the tarp before starting a micro-fire while boiling water for dinner.
Morning came too fast as I glanced out the tarp to see another gloriously blue sky. The fact of the sun not hitting us until nine drove me from the tarp to pack up. While packing, I noticed one of her poles was missing. What is with this kid and poles? I took a walk up the steepest part of the trail to warm myself while looking for the pole. It would also give Amber more time to sleep. I made it to the deeper snowed sections before turning around, poleless, to wake up Sleeping Beauty.
We set back up the route we came down from. I assured Amber I would let the damn thing rot if it was on top of rock somewhere in the blast zone. I had an idea of where it was, though as we set out retracing our steps from yesterday.
This was the first time this year my analytical skills paid off. Of course she assured me when arriving at the lake last night, she looked over both shoulders and saw each pole. A double score with a deer femur (yuck) and her pole were found right where I suspected she may had lost them.
Since we were here and had most of Monday to hike if needed, we decided to continue, following our footsteps all the way. Amber walked along the trail until it finally turned to brown once again.
We huffed uphill until we hit more snow bridges, but these were not protected by the trees and were deteriorating rapidly. I dropped my pack and plodded up a snowfield, circumventing a large bridge to gain a great lookout spot at 4,000 feet.
Hood, Adams, and Rainier were all here sporting a healthy coat.
Spying north, I could see the shoots on the east flank were filled with snow. I could also see that the canyon holding Shoestring Creek had snow lining its walls as well signaling to me this was the end of the line. The canyon was the hardest on the trip and with snow lining the steep, loose walls, it would be nearly impossible to climb down and out of.
Nonetheless, the beauty of the mountain never let disappointment set in. Also, if the weather held out, vacation was a mere two weeks away for another attempt.
Amber scratched out names on a rock with pumice. The names came off with the breeze, so I doubt it would leave any lasting impression, but in her and my minds it would.
On our way back, one of the bridges we had to cross had collapsed just before we got to it. After a lengthy circumvention we were safe again on solid trail, that is until we were back in the woods.
We just had minor snow fields to cross that were quite softened by the suns blistering rays and easy to tread on our way back.
I spotted and enormous fir and thought about the Olympics, where we were supposed to be in two weeks, and chucked. With eight feet of snow in the passes right now, we will not be heading to the Olympics until August. Just a plain, weird, year.
We tried. I did not want to go home. I did not want to work in the yard again. I did not want to do house chores or visit with people. I just wanted some time for wandering, but it would have to wait.
Amber and I stopped for some time at the lake. I napped while she found frogs. I read while she found frogs, but eventually she was done with them and it was time to go home.
I took one last picture for her brother who wants to come explore this area with us next time. He was here before, but was in diapers and was too young to remember it. I do not know what this year still holds for me, but, hopefully, some future miles will bring about the thoughts and feelings I have been longing for.
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