|
Silver Star
Mountain,
Trapper Creek Wilderness |
|
A year passed with hints towards curiosity about the Silver Star Mountain area. For an entire year, we sloughed it off as something resembling a wives tale, never taking it seriously. Finally, great weather and a little free time from the wives convinced us to venture out and see this area for ourselves. As the guidebook warned us about the road leading to the trailhead, we opted to take my Runner as the potholes were indeed of epic proportion and would have swallowed Bob's Volvo whole.
After arriving, we did the typical and geared up, eager to see what the route had in store for us. We deiced to take Ed's Trail to Silver Star, camp somewhere in the vicinity, and eventually return via a paralleling ATV track. So far so good as the views of local mountains were as spectacular as the floral displays enchanted our eyes.
It was hard to believe the terrain that we were in given the low elevation. It resembled something you would more likely see in alpine country, probably due to the Yacolt Burn, the largest forest fire in Washington's history. We bobbed up and down the trail, not gaining much elevation. The flowers were intoxicating and the setting, sublime.
Because of it's past, the trail, starting at only 3460 feet, offered views you would not normally see. We took our time, walking through the flowers, hip deep at times, watching the bees scramble to get around us.
The heat of the day started early and as there was much exposure to go along with the views, we started feeling that heat rather quickly. Bob and I took a breather for some shots at the top of the first modest climb. Mt. Adams was easy to spot, as was Hood, Rainer, and St. Helens. As I stopped for a pose, trying to look like some kind of seasoned hiker while failing miserably, I wondered if I had brought enough water with me. Since we would be dry camping anywhere we decided to stop, I started to doubt my thought of six liters being enough.
Leaving it in the back of my brain for now, we continued on through the arch rock only to run into a 14 foot wall, intersecting the trail, requiring scaling. Scale complete, the trail required a little scrambling at times, but nothing that one could not conquer using a little finesse and caution.
With Ed's Trail now behind us, we walked along an easier path to meet up with yet another ATV road. I started to wonder how many of the puttering four stroked machines we would have to dodge up here as the trail was quite chewed up, even for an ATV track. A little ways up the trail, we took a junction leading us to the summit of Silver Star Mountain. It was not as impressive as I had hoped because of the fact I could have drove my truck up here instead of hiking.
While surveying the surrounding landscape, I noticed that there was a lot more to this area than the peak itself. Indeed, there were trails leading everywhere. We had a chat, trying to come up with some kind of plan on where to go. The heat of the day was taking it's toll already as I have never hiked in this kind of exposure. We agreed to head down to see the Indian Pits. As there are many of these all over the gorge, it no less intrigued me just why they were used. Historians say they were for vision quests for young Native American braves. I will say, this place held the mother load of pits as there were at least two dozen in the area.
Bob and I had an issue. Water was running out fast as the day approached the 90s. The only water in the guidebook was over 2000 feet down, in the canyon far below. We took a trail down from Indian Pits towards Sturgeon Rock. I cannot explain just what did it, but something instinctively led me to a little shaded area supporting grass and a few small bushy trees.
Not only was this a cool pace to rest, but it even had a tap, going far into the side of the ridge we were on. The water tricked slowly, without end. It was cold and clear. Bob pumped away with his filter, filling our bags to the top with the icy cold liquid. We laid there, semi awake, with the area all to ourselves. This area was neither on my topo or my guidebook and it looked like no one had been there for some time. Things were looking up.
Reluctantly but eventually persuaded by the flies, we looked over the map, deciding to head to Little Baldy Mountain. It sounded cool and from Silver Star's viewpoint, I could see it. It was really not much more than a talus pile, a very large talus pile. We worked our down Bluff Mountain Trail along the ridge leading to the mountain, unsure of what we will find as far as a campsite. Bob suggested we try our luck at Bluff Mountain itself, just past Little Baldy, but I declined, convincing him it was just too hot to climb.
Just past Little Baldy, we found a ridge running south, sporting views as well as a nice plat spot. We wasted no time pushing our way carefully through the dense, tiny fir trees, just south of the trail. Unfortunately, at the clearing, there was no shade to be found. I quickly set up the tarp as Bob did the same. We spent the next hour drinking water while looking over the map.
Since it is actually hotter under silnylon, I rested just outside my tarp, under it's vestibule. I had a touch of heat exhaustion as the simplest movements caused my heart to race. A couple hours later, I felt great as I whipped out my topo and could now think clearly.
I saw a main gully, just east of our camp, that may sport some kind of spring at it's bottom. Bob was not easily convinced as the place was dry as a desert but agreed to go along with me anyway.
I stopped a moment before we left to admire the view I had from my tarp. This was the first trip I was actually able to use the tarp as all the others, I had either some place else to stay, like a shelter, or I just plain bailed on the overnighter. We had about one hour of daylight left as we carefully pushed our way through the think forest, surrounding our campsite. 150 feet down the steep slopes, while following my intuition and looking at the topo, we discovered just what I came to find.
A spring no wider than eight inches ran freely down into the deep gully below. All this water, no more than one eighth of a mile from camp. Bob was flabbergasted as we drank greedily from it sources, belches allowed. With bladders maxed out with the cold, life sustaining liquid, we hiked tiredly back up the ridge to our campsite, spotting bear scat just a 100 feet away from camp. I did not think bear would be out here as the foot traffic seemed to be extensive over the years. It made me wonder if the sounds by our camp after setting up were more than our imaginations. We scrounged around for some dead wood to build a fire as the clear sky promised a cool night.
With whiskey, a small fire pit no more than 12 inches wide, and a close friend to share the moment with, jokes were shared along with things of a more serious nature. It just did not get any better than this. After downing three liters of water that were sloshing around in my belly, I felt like a new man. After a few shots of whiskey along with an outstanding dinner of brats and Schmores, I felt like a full, very happy man. It was so peaceful with the conversations dying down as nothing more needed to be said. The whiskey put me in a state of the utmost relaxation. I mentioned this to Bob as he informed me I was asleep for the past 45 minutes. I reluctantly sauntered to my tarp while wearing a smile on my face, satisfied at what I had accomplished today. I crawled into my down cocoon and quickly drifted off to sleep with a full moon for company.
Morning arrived too soon as the gnats were really making the effort to piss us off. No, they did not bite. Instead, they would fly into your nose, your mouth, or any orifice left uncovered. They insistently bounced off of one's eyes, for what reason, I have no idea. Donning my head net, We packed up quickly and thumped back up the trail to a junction providing us access to the ATV track that would lead us to my truck.
Soon, Sturgeon Rock came into view as well as the vast fields of wild flowers. Indian Paintbrush and Lupine were abundant as I could help to stop and take in the sweet aroma being produced by their incredible numbers.
The miles passed swiftly as I snapped away with the camera, taking one of my best shots so far. Mt. Adams in the background with a busy bee flying off to his next assignment over all the flowers, stretching as far as I could see.
This was a special time for me. Everything seemed to just fall into place on this trip. The drive, the heat, the spring, the water. Everything was aligned with itself as Bob was right. Silver Star Mountain was everything it was hyped up to be. We just had to look at, then below it's surface.
|
