In an effort to get out away from all the insanity that surrounds Fourth of July fireworks, which typically send Zillah into a panicked frenzy, my sister Heidi and I donned our backpacks and headed to the mountains for a few days. Our destination this year was Tubal Cain Mine and Tull Canyon, located in the Northeast corner of the Olympics.
When hiking, my daypack typically weighs about 13 pounds. Knowing that I have been struggling with this weight on the steeper trails, I was very nervous about my 25# pack. I kept looking over my gear, trying to pare that number back as far as I could, envisioning myself straining under a monstrous pack, legs comically quivering with each laborious step. The lack of a hyperactive imagination has never been my problem. The morning of our departure finally dawned and the three of us loaded our packs (Zillah carries her own food, water & bowl) into the car and hit the road.
The Tubal Cain trail is a nicely maintained trail through an understory of wild rhododendrons with a gentle and steady elevation gain. I don't think I have been more thankful for a 'gentle slope' than I was this weekend. I won't say I didn't labor under my pack, but the trail was mild enough that I didn't struggle. My legs didn't quiver comically, I didn't fall over backwards like a turtle on its back, nor did my pack overpower me. For my first pack trip in a decade, with a new pack and new boots, the choice of trail was perfect. Roughly four miles later, we arrived at our campsite on Copper Creek, in the shadow of Iron and Buckhorn Mountains. We pitched our tents, filtered water for evening, ate dinner and hung our bear bag, then called it a night.
Day Two
There is something about sleeping outdoors in the woods that I love. My hips always hurt in the morning due to the way I'm built, but falling asleep to the sounds of the forest, with nearby Copper Creek singing its lullaby, just can't be beat. Morning dawned bright and beautiful and I enjoyed laying in my tent listening to the forest awaken. Varied Thrush whistled greetings, a hummingbird hummed past - the forest came alive with twitterings and buzzings. The peace and tranquility surrounded me like a cocoon and I felt the stresses of my everyday life waning with each breath. Eventually we crawled out of our tents, had breakfast and planned our day. We opted to leave our packs behind and just carry some water with us (and cameras of course).
The trail was a bit more aggressive, but neither of us was carrying a load, so we had little difficulty climbing to the top. Our first destination of the day was Tubal Cain mine, a copper & manganese mine that was built at the turn of the century and abandoned in 1920. We found the secondary entrance to the mine, but the main entrance eluded us. What we happened upon, instead, was the site of a WWII B-17 that crashed during a blizzard in 1952. We had planned on visiting the wreckage this trip, but later in the day. I hadn't counted on the wreckage affecting me the way it did - as soon as I touched the twisted metal, I was overcome with sorrow and started weeping uncontrollably. I respectfully asked permission to climb aboard, then sat in what remained of the fuselage, sobbing. This was sacred ground and due far more respect than most visitors bestow it. As my tears began to subside, I used my buff to dry my eyes as I headed back across the meadow to rejoin Heidi.
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| Tull Canyon as seen through the B-17 wreckage |
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| Sitting in the secondary entrance to the mine |
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We relaxed and napped in our tents for a bit, then returned to the trail in hopes of finding the main entrance to the mine. We learned after the trip that we were, in fact, camping in the area of the original mining camp. Anyhow, off we went, traipsing through woods that could be best described as "Hansel and Gretel" woods (Heidi informed me she was feeding me to the witch if we found a house made of candy!). We wandered uphill, zigged this way, back-tracked, zagged that way, crossed a stream and up a rockslide that ended up being the tailings of the mine. There at the top of that mound of loose gravel, in the middle of a solid face of mountain, was the main entrance of the mine. The mine has been experiencing collapse and cave-ins since the 20's, so is unsafe to enter and explore, but I was able to stand just inside the entrance and shine my flashlight as far as the light would penetrate into the darkness. About a foot of water flows freely from deep within the mine, and the floor was littered with mining debris (pipe, ore car rail, etc). The curious, adventuresome side of me wanted to explore more, but the self-preservation side won out in the end.
It was then back to camp for dinner and playtime with Zillah before turning in.
DAY THREE
I lounged in my tent as long as I could Sunday morning, knowing that once I got up it would signal the beginning of the end of my weekend. I wasn't ready to head back to the chaos that is my daily life. Heidi and Zillah were up and about long before I decided to face the inevitable. We ate another trail breakfast, filtered our water for the trip out, and started packing up our camp. I rearranged the weight in my pack in the hopes of making it easier to carry, which worked out quite nicely. As I continue backpacking more, gaining more experience and lighter equipment, I will continue to tweak my load until it is as optimal as possible.
Once we had ensured that we left no trace of our visit, including packing up trash left behind by other campers, we struck out for the return trip home. Normally I struggle significantly with the downhill portions of these hikes, but the grade of this trail was so nominal that such was not the case. We stopped only once, and that was so I could zip off the legs of my pants. We rested there longer than we needed to, simply because we could, allowing us more time to soak up the quiet and reminisce on the finer points of our adventure. We reached the car without incident or difficulty, stripped off our packs, grabbed lunch and headed back up the trail about 1/10 of a mile. There is a shelter there, set back off the trail a bit and surrounded by the forest. It was here that we enjoyed a lunch that included some fresh-caught, home-smoked trout supplied by one of my friends. Eventually our desire for hot showers won out over the desire to linger longer, and we again packed up and headed for the car.
What an absolutely divine weekend. I tested out new boots and a new pack, and love both. I put my body under an additional load and it performed better than expected. I spent quality time with my little sister and our shared dog, doing what all three of us love best. As I reflect back on the weekend, I realize how blessed Heidi and I were to have parents who not only loved the outdoors, but instilled that love in their daughters. Our mother was there with every bootstep. She sat alongside us on every "sittin' log". Her toes dangled in the water with mine, and I could see her smile on my sister's face. Every time I squatted to pee in the woods, I thought of my mother - odd time, I know, but you really had to know her to understand. I may struggle on my climb up Mt St Helens, but my mother will be right there with me, spiritually, every step of the way, and that knowledge has re-fueled my belief that I can do this. The best part will be my sister there at my side, where she belongs.
In loving memory of Patricia A. Pfeifer.
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