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Dreams Come True |
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Morning came and with it some improved weather. My down sleeping bag was of the highest quality, but that means little if it gets wet. Fortunately, it was only soggy from my pack and recovered fully by morning. After some quick packing, we were on the trail. Although only a half hour earlier than yesterday. There was nowhere to go but up as we were getting closer to the pass with every step. After a mile up the trail, we passed three trail workers putting in some back-breaking hours and said our thanks.
An hour of muddy, messy hiking found us at a more alpine-like trail just before Honeymoon Meadows; a place of incredible beauty, and popularity. This was another goal on my Olympics list. With the meadows in view, I decided it was time for Amber and I to take a small rest. I took out all my gear to fully dry as Amber took a power nap. The pass was well in sight and the trail climbed steeply from here.
The alpine was now calling me. There is a sense of freedom in the alpine with no trees to obstruct your view or your direction. But for now, we would have to settle on a well maintained trail. Amber and I sat on the shores of the west fork while munching on a Snickers bar. We just stared at the water and said nothing for a while. We both realized how blessed we were to be out here with one another and it showed in both our eyes.
Broken from our spell of blessings, we still had miles to go. And as time waits for no one, I repacked. We shouldered our now-lighter packs and made our way through the incredible meadows, stopping frequently to gaze and gawk like tourists.
There was a scent in the meadows and it was intoxicating. It was like a sweet mint as I breathed in as much as I could without hyperventilating. Amber noticed the same thing, but all she could ask was "bear questions".
Only minutes later, the Lacrosse Pass junction came into view as she asked more "bear questions". From here, we start climbing steeply up the valley's head, ascending an additional 850 feet in a scant 1.4 miles before a 2500 foot descent to the chalet in Enchanted Valley. "Do you think there will be bears there?" The question ensued.
Another long-time goal on my list was Camp Siberia. I first saw a pick on my friend Chris's website and have wanted to see it for myself ever since. Indeed it was cold here just as he said it was. The wind was slow and constant, but the shelter blocked the worst of it. It was incredibly beautiful, even with the plethora of carvings all over the inside. Some dating back to the 70s. I asked my little one how much more she could handle. While munching on dry salami, a muffled "I want to make it to the chalet." came forth.
Packing up, it was only a semi-strenuous half mile to the pass. At the pass, I got a glimpse of the sky and noticed the weather taking a turn for the worse. Blasted weatherman. Today was supposed to be fairly nice, but the Olympics always seem to have a mind of it's own when it came to the weather.
After the pass, the trail dropped with vigor. It flowed back and forth through the flower-filled meadows, making it's way into the woods at the switched back ends. It was not the worst I have been on. In fact, the switchbacks made for quite the gentle drop in elevation. It was the worst Amber has been on, but the views made it all worth it. The mist-soaked foliage drenched our dry feet as we squished our way down to the valley. The "bear questions" continued.
The flowers were abundant. Alpine Lupine, Columbine, Indian Paintbrush, Tiger Lillis, and Snap Dragons, just to name a few, were out in full force. As we rounded another switchback, I paused to look at the map just before Amber shrieked "Daddy! Look! Look! Look!". I looked up and saw the side, then the hind end, of a 200 pound black bear flying into the brush as if in fear for it's life. Amber got her wish for this trip and was all smiles. She saw the whole act, not just the end as I had and displayed even more energy for the remainder of the walk into the valley.
The child could not stop smiling as she felt invigorated from her first bear encounter. I was not smiling so much as I had seen many bear in my days, but rather, bad weather this high up scares me more so.
We double timed it, trying to beat the weather into the valley. It appeared as it had already beat us, but I hoped for the best. I could not help but to look back at the enormous waterfall coming out of Lake Valkyrie; the lake at the bottom of Mt. Anderson's glacier. Hopefully tomorrow will offer good enough weather to make the base of the mountain.
While crossing over the stream before the O'Neal Pass junction, eagle eyes Amber spotted a medium sized frog and leaped for joy. Well, she leaped after it, then jumped for joy as she could not contain her excitement for such a find. She did well over the small creeks while keeping her soggy feet mentally dry. She gracefully hopped and pranced her way over the larger rocks, looking for the best way to cross as she was only in trail runners. Wearing trail shoes was her idea as she wanted to follow in her dad's footsteps in SUL hiking.
Not a moment after the frog find, she spotted markings on a tree and asked if a bear had done them. I verified they were indeed bear scratches as they were the perfect height, size, and shape; too random and not sharp enough to be done with a knife or axe.
After a small burst of speed from Amber, we bisected the junction Bob and I had climbed to in 2004. At the time, we were heading for Anderson Pass. Knowing what I know now and knowing how difficult it was then just to get here, we would have never made it as a day hike. It was another 1.8 miles and 1200, rather steep, vertical feet up under several feet of snow.
As we sloshed along the trail, I felt that now all-too-familiar feeling. One drop. Two drops. Then I remembered the side trail for the largest known Western Hemlock. I asked her if she wanted to see it and got a stout reply of "heck ya!". So, off we went, down the slippery side trail to the rivers edge. I just had to get a pick of her next to the behemoth, but could not shake the feeling that the weather, contrary to Superman's forecast, was going to get crappy, fast.
Five minutes later, it started pouring. The weather, according to Superman's forecast, was; Saturday-Mostly sunny. But here it was, Monday, and as bad as Sunday's 7 hour non-stop downpour. I tried to look on the bright side as Amber soaked it up, loving every minute of it. Of course, she was not the one up all night, wiping condensation off the walls, and making sure the tarp floor was not floating. We approached a man who asked us where he was. He was looking for Honeymoon Meadows and got turned around at the O'Neal Pass junction. It was easy to do as the eastern fork starts across the seasonal creek and is not marked. I gave him some logistics on where to camp and how far as he only had a couple hours of daylight left. I pray he made it ok.
We slopped our way up the trail to the chalet, dripping, soaking wet, but smiling. I noticed someone on the porch and the door to the ranger station, open. All the times I have been in the Olympics, I had yet to see a ranger in the back country. The two people looked to be about 19 or 20 and I asked them if the ranger was in. They politely said they were them and we chit-chatted for a while as Amber checked out the shelter portion of the chalet.
On our way in, I only spotted one set of campers in the woods, leaving the chalet unoccupied. Amber really wanted to stay in the chalet and coaxed me into asking the rangers permission to do so. They said it was no problem. Once inside the chalet, the rain turned into a deluge as I let out a soft chuckle. I simply felt spoiled as we were warm and dry. I laid all the gear to dry while waiting for the torrent to lessen. I wanted to boil up some water for our hot cocoa and chicken-rice dinner, but was too lazy to don my raingear.
The weather outside turned into a soft downward misting as I took a couple swigs of rum, grabbed my stove and hopped over a micro braid of the east fork of the Quinault. Indeed, this was the time of my life with my little angel, but it was a lot of work. Keeping myself safe and injury-free was not too difficult. But doing it for someone else, especially a nine year old dynamo, was something resembling hard work and was mentally exhausting. I needed the chalet tonight. A warm, dry place to sleep without the worry of midnight bathroom calls, hunger spells, bears, raccoons, rain, puddles, mud, or bugs. None of which I worry about when solo. Some mental downtime.
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