Mount Dickerman

July 16, 2016

This trail, although beautiful and known for its Lord-of-the-Ring type views, is not for the casual hiker. With terms like "strenuous", "steep", "stiff", "beastly", "difficult" and "expert" used to describe it, one should certainly be wary before planning a trip up Dickerman Mountain (it's official name). Oh, and if you find the trail report that calls this a "simple hike" .... ignore it. That writer is either severely delusional or possesses a very sick sense of humor.


Located in the Cascades on the Mountain Loop Highway near Granite Falls, this was a hike I had looked forward to all year. The views from the summit are quintessential and worth every ounce of sweat to attain them. Granted, I was a little nervous about this one. At over 3900 feet of gain, it was to be the steepest trail I had attempted to date ... other than Mt St Helens, of course. The forecast for the day was mixed, so I was hoping the thick (wet) cloud cover that was present when we arrived at the trailhead would burn off before we reached the summit. 

The trail started off in a forest so dense that only moss and ferns grew on the floor. The low lying clouds gave a feel of walking through fog and daylight filtered through giving the forest a ghostly atmosphere. The terrain was good for the first half mile. Switchback after switchback quickly carried us up through a changing forest, the trail becoming steeper and rougher as we climbed, the trees thinning and shorter-growing the higher we went. Along this first third of the trail you could see evidence of recent trail maintenance projects, and we appreciated the efforts of those WTA volunteers.

Slowly and gradually we made our way up the mountain, the scenery around us changing with every few hundred feet we climbed. We stopped occasionally to appreciate the beauty surrounding us and to catch our breath, our lungs and hearts working overtime to supply oxygen to our muscles.

 

 





At about the halfway point we encountered a rockslide that totally blocked the trail with boulders. There was a tall ribbon waterfall there that was so pretty but nearly impossible to photograph due to the boulders. With great care we made our way around/over the obstruction. At this point we were told by other hikers we only had 1.25 miles left to go. What a relief! That relief, however, was short lived as the real "fun" still lay ahead.

Maple shaded boulders

We popped up out of the forest into the prettiest meadow that was chock full of beautiful mountain heather and wildflowers aplenty, mosses and young vine maple. A small stream wound its way around the boulders, forming crystal clear pools and tiny cascading waterfalls. It was peacefully serene beyond words and we drank it all in, replenishing our souls.

From there the trail got down to some serious business. The elevation increased significantly, as did the trail erosion. Apparently recent maintenance projects stopped prior to the meadow. We were walking in boot trenches that were 5 to 9 inches deep (which is hard on the hips), navigating a tangled web of exposed roots, stepping up over wooden steps where the surrounding soil (above, below & behind) had totally eroded away, and maneuvering around sizeable rocks, trying not to roll our ankles. We had reached a veritable trail hell. We encountered hikers on their way down that told us we were only 1.25 miles from the summit. Wait. What???

We eventually made it to the top. I'm sure that ultimate view we had worked so hard to take in is breathtaking. For us, the summit was socked in with visibility of about 200 feet. We couldn't even see the other point of the peak. We were able to gaze down the cliff side, which drops 450' straight down. That in of itself was remarkable. We found ourselves a suitable chunk of granite and sat down to eat lunch. The summit is fairly good sized so, although other hikers joined us, there was plenty of room for all and, due to the heavy clouds, we felt somewhat isolated.



Drop-off to Nowhere



Once lunch was done, it was time to head back. If the final leg of the ascent was tough on the way up, it was an absolute nightmare on the way down. With every step we felt the strain on our ankles, knees, quads and hips. By the time we reached the trailhead, my legs were like spaghetti. After sitting a few moments at a picnic table, I got up with the intention of visiting the vault toilet. My legs, on the other hand, had other ideas. I must have looked hilarious doing the penguin walk all the way!



Our Group at the Summit: Holly, Andrea, Me, Evie (clockwise)



This was a challenging hike that failed to provide the promised payoff due to the weather. The trip back down the trail was far worse that the trip up due to the extreme trail erosion and resulting rough terrain. My knees actually swelled from the exertion, and stayed stiff and swollen for a week. Was the journey up Mt Dickerman worth the effort? Absolutely. Even without the view at the top, it was an experience to learn from and an opportunity to test the limitations of my body. Would I make a return trip? If you could guarantee me clear skies, you bet. They make ice for swollen knees, after all...

Crossing the Rockslide at the Waterfall

Hike 38 of 52

Phlox at the Summit

Distance: 8.6 miles
Elevation gained: 3950'
Highest elevation achieved: 5760'

**Most photos taken by Myke Moe, Andrea Cuaran or Evie Osburn







Granite Mountain

July 9, 2016

The hike to the fire lookout on Granite Mountain was a return trip for me. Some trails I enjoy returning to, partly because of their beauty and partly to double-check my level of conditioning. Granite Mountain's trail was one of those trails. Although not an easy trail, it isn't a grueling one either ... and worth revisiting occasionally.

Our trip started out with a questionable forecast. We were prepared for whatever might come our way with layers and extra clothing for the summit. We arrived at the trailhead early, eager to get our journey started. The trail started out wide, well-maintained and of moderate grade for the first 1.25 miles. There the trail splits, one direction heading to Pratt Lake, the other to our destination - Granite Mountain lookout. From this point the trail gets down to business, growing more rugged and climbing more steeply via a series switchbacks. It was littered with rocks and boulders that had to be navigated. I was surprised by the amount of trail erosion from foot-traffic since last year, making the terrain rougher. Finally we popped out above the trees and began climbing the ridge. All around us were wild blueberries and other scrubby shrubs, tufted bear grass and the now familiar lupine, paintbrush and tiger lilies. For a moment the cloud cover looked as though it might start burning off. 

At the top of the ridge is a pretty alpine meadow with a small, crystal clear pond. It was here we stopped to rest and grab a quick snack. The meadow was the deep green and bright pink of Mountain Heather. Bees buzzed around us, busily visiting one blossom after another. On a rocky outcropping overlooking the meadow, a marmot sat watching the silly humans. The lookout was visible above us, but experience told me we still had over 45 minutes to go before we'd reach it. I found the tree I had a photo taken with last year, so re-created the pose for another shot. We couldn't linger here long, however, so donned our packs again and resumed our trek. 

Here the adventure got interesting. So many people had gone off-trail in a hurry to reach the summit that the trail is difficult to follow. Fueling the difficulty was the fact there is a winter route, and a summer route; only one route shows on the maps, so it was unclear which was our trail. Add the presence of snow covering many portions of the trail to the mix, and you have the recipe for an interesting hike. We got it figured out and headed around the backside of the summit. 

Making our way to the lookout

What a difference a year makes. Last year this area was barren, just dirt and boulders. This year we had snow, mud and running water to contend with. Last year we had a jaw-dropping view of the surrounding mountains and peaks. This year we had heavy cloud-cover and limited visibility. Last year it was warm, this year there was a chill breeze blowing. Nevertheless, we continued up the trail until we finally arrived at the summit and its lookout.

Once at the summit the wind kicked up a bit, so we put on all our layers. We sat under the lookout for some protection from the elements and ate our lunches. Chipmunks and Chickadees joined us in hopes of a handout. The clouds never dissipated for us, so we headed back down. 



Our summit group: (clockwise from top)
Holly, Me, Bill, Myke, Dan & Evie

I was happy with the relative ease I was able to make the return trip. Having just come off our multi-day pack trip, I had expected to experience more difficulty with my knees and hips, especially in the rougher areas. Everyone did great on this trail, even those who struggled more with this one then they thought they would. We pushed on through everything, supporting each other like the friends we have become, and reached the summit together. I regret that we didn't have the incredible view from the top that I know exists, but the mountain will always be there to climb again should any of us decide we want to catch that view.

Adventure is the pursuit of life.  

Me, just below the summit

Hike 37:52
Distance: 8.6 miles
Elevation gain: 3800'
Highest Elevation Achieved: 5760'    

         

 

   

July Trek; Day Five; Camp Handy to Trailhead

July 5, 2016

The final day of our five-day adventure dawned with a quiet tranquility. It was a peace that can only be experienced in the woods. I lay in my tent as long as I felt was allowable, breathing in the crisp mountain air and expelling the last vestiges of stress from my daily life. The river called to me and for a moment I felt it as it cleansed my spirit - a calm washed over me and a long eluded serenity filled my soul. Life was good.



Morning view from my tent



After our breakfast, we busied ourselves with what had become a morning routine, then donned our packs for the last time. As I walked about camp, I found an owl feather - which I took as a sign of my mother's presence. There was more laughter and chatter than there had been the past few days. Although everyone was enjoying the trip, we were all glad to be heading home where hot Epsom salt baths were calling. Well rested and energized by the knowledge that we would soon be home, we took leave of camp and headed on down the trail.  

The final leg of our journey would take us along a familiar section of the Upper Dungeness River trail out to the trailhead. This was the perfect trail on which to finish our journey. With only 600 ft of elevation to descend, all in lush old-growth forest, it felt like a simple stroll through the woods. Our weary bodies appreciated the easier terrain and lighter pace of the day. We rambled past Dogwood (Bunchberry), blossoming Thimbleberries and lush ferns growing along the nearby river.

Oh, and the river! It was, in a word, resplendent. Always one to impress, the Upper Dungeness didn't disappoint. The trail carried us along its banks, where we were treated again and again to its beauty. It bounced and tumbled over the boulders in its bed, crystal clear in places, and turquoise blue in others. We crossed it twice on log footbridges and the dogs were such pros now they didn't falter or pause in their crossing. The weather threatened rain, but there under the forest canopy we felt only an occasional drop come through. It was a relaxing hike.

Before we knew it we had arrived at the trailhead. From there it was a short walk to the parking area where we had left our car ... and the vault toilet. It truly is the little things that bring us joy.

We had survived. This was my longest backpack trip, and it was Evie's first. Although I had labored under the weight of my pack, I can't say I ever truly struggled. My hips, knees and back ached at each day's end, but had held up to the load and served me well. Looking back over our journey we can feel pride in our accomplishments. We had ventured outside of comfort zones, tested skills, rallied against physical limitations and pushed beyond endurance levels. We stared in awe at glorious peaks and ridges, marveled at massive old growth trees and come face-to-face with mountain goats. We crossed snow fields, trekked across alpine meadows and climbed a mountain. We found peace, strength and friendship.

"Climb the Mountains and get their good tidings.
Nature's peace will flow into you as sunshine flows into trees."  - John Muir




All packed and ready to hit the trail

Hike 35:52

Distance 3.2 miles
Elevation Gain (Loss): -600'



July Trek; Day Four; Boulder Camp to Camp Handy

July 4, 2016 - Independence Day.
 

The previous day's decision push to on Boulder Camp meant that we were two miles closer to our day four destination - Camp Handy. We were able to linger longer in our tents, and lounge a bit at camp. The sun lit up the peaks that formed a sheltering ring around camp, with Mt Buckhorn staring down on us from the northeast. It was amazing to think that we had not only been on the other side the previous morning, but that we had come over the top of his western leg. Having recovered from the exertion of the day before, I was filled anew with a sense of accomplishment.

Daybreak at Boulder Camp - Photo by HIWalker Photo

Looking back, I find it fascinating how quickly our mornings had become routine in so short a time. We awoke, prepared and ate breakfast, filtered our day's water, broke camp and headed back out on the trail, ensuring we had left no trace of our stay behind - all with a casual normalcy.

Our day's journey carried us out of the bowl where Boulder Camp and further down the western side of the ridge we had spent two days traversing and climbing. As we hiked, the terrain gradually descended and the severity of our surroundings softened. The trees began to grow taller and thicker as we left the subalpine forest behind us, bathing us in welcome shade and shadows. The alpine wildflowers of our previous three days were replaced now by shade-loving Candystick, Bog Orchids, Wintergreens and delicate Twin Flower. Less than two hours after leaving Boulder Camp, we arrived at Camp Handy.

 Camp Handy is another of the Adirondack style shelters constructed in the Olympic mountains during the early 1900's. There are only a handful of the original shelters remaining and, due to wilderness preservation efforts, are slowly dying out. The battle to save them has pit historic preservationists against (extreme) wilderness preservationists. Its a sensitive topic and I can see the points of the opposing views. That said, as a hiker and backpacker, I am extremely thankful for the shelters that still stand.

View of the Dungeness River from one of the sites at Camp Handy

Camp Handy is situated a few hundred feet off the Dungeness River, surrounded on three sides by forest and on the fourth by a beautiful river meadow full of Larkspur, Cow Parsnip, Twin Berry, Nettles and Salmonberry, to name but a few. We had hiked to this location earlier in the year when there was still snow covering portions of this same meadow. It looked so different adorned in a quilt of summertime color!  

We had the camp to ourselves, so found a suitable campsite then gathered wood for a relaxing and warming fire. The dogs stretched out in the sunshine for a lengthy snooze. With the most difficult portions of our trip behind us, we were able to relax  and the laughter came more easily. We reminisced over our trip thus far, shared stories about past hikes, and talked about our desires for future adventures. Dinner was delicious, and Evie brought out dehydrated Crème Brulee for a drool-worthy dessert. 

Holly demonstrates her tried & true method for breaking firewood
(photo by HIWalker Photo)

We watched the flames begin to die down in our fire as the daylight began fading. A light mist moved in, condensing over the river and filling the meadow with a peaceful quiet, broken only by the sounds of the Dungeness. The rigors of the past four days finally overtook us and we headed for our tents and the comfort of our sleeping bags. Another fabulous day on the trail behind us.

Evening at Camp Handy - Photo by HIWalker Photo

Hike 35 of 52
Distance: 3.6 miles
Elevation Gain (Loss): -1800'

  

July Trek; Day Three; Buckhorn Lake to Boulder Camp

July 3, 2016

The view from my tent

Knowing that this would be the most difficult day of our trek, we awoke a bit earlier. I unzipped my tent and the view that was revealed was incredible. The morning sun was hitting the upper reaches of Mount Buckhorn, but had not yet crested enough to bathe the forest or lake below in its light. We retrieved our bear bags, ate a satisfying breakfast and started busying ourselves with breaking camp. The plan for the day was to hike to Marmot Pass and camp there. No water is available at that location, so we all filtered extra water to carry us through an extra day on the trail. Once we had again donned our packs, we bid adieu to our campsite and headed out. It was such a tranquil spot, I hated saying goodbye.

On the trail again - Leaving Buckhorn Lake (photo by Holly Scheyer)

The arduous half mile back up to the main trail seemed tougher than it had on the way in. I labored under the weight of my pack as I maneuvered the terrain of the trail. By the time we had rejoined the main trail, however, I had regained my stride and was ready to face whatever lay before me.

Or so I thought.

From the junction our trail continued traversing the ridge face of the day before, steadily uphill. The lush wildflowers at the lower elevation thinned out, giving way to shorter foliage. We were steadily progressing into alpine meadows. Mount Buckhorn grew closer with each step. Onward and upward we trudged. The overall elevation gain wasn't that bad, it was just the unending climb upward under the weight of our packs that was draining us. After what seemed a small eternity, we finally crested the ridge and were rewarded for our labors by the many peaks and valleys that make up the Gray Wolf Ridge, all set against a blue sky interspersed with gorgeous clouds. It was breathtaking.

Grey Wolf Ridge - Photo by HIWalker Photo

We continued on a short ways to a small copse of trees that offered some protection from the wind that blew up there. It was here we sat amongst some very friendly ants and ate our lunches. The dogs were happy to stretch out and rest a bit. 

We had one more knoll to crest before cutting around the leg of Mount Buckhorn. We were over 5600 feet in elevation and travelling through a very delicate alpine meadow. The air was crisp, clean and invigorating. Enough other hikers had gone off-trail at this point that we somehow lost our route around the mountain - the 'rabbit trail' we followed carried us up to the top of Mount Buckhorn's outer leg where we eventually intersected the trail to the summit. The clouds had moved in by the time we reached the junction, making it difficult to take our bearings off the surrounding peaks and ridges. We ran into some hikers with an altimeter who informed us we were now at 6600 feet, which confirmed our estimation of where we were.  

Somewhere down there the trail escaped us. Photo by HIWalker Photo

Having familiarized ourselves with the map of our route many times during our year of planning, however, we knew that roughly 1/2 mile down the trail to the west was our destination - Marmot Pass. So, we hung a right to get ourselves back on track.

Goats in the Mist

We now faced one of the most heinous sections of trail in the Olympics. We quickly descended 750+ feet of elevation in 1/3 mile which, loosely translated, meant it was steep. It had loose rocks and gravel over top of rocks and boulders, therefore there was no sure footing. We all had packs that weighed over 40 pounds, thanks to the extra water we carried. Needless to say, there were a lot of expletives being uttered as we carefully picked our way down. Then, to add to the fun, we came face-to-face with a small family of mountain goats who were utilizing the same trail and coming right towards us. We employed our best goat deterrent techniques; waving arms and calling out "No, Goat!". Fortunately they were well-versed in hiker-ese and willing to concede the trail to us, moseying along their way a few yards off-trail. 

It was with great relief that we finally reached Marmot Pass. For me, it was a huge milestone. I have never hiked in so far, and this was, to date, my longest pack trip. It was not our final destination as planned, however. The weather had continued to worsen as we came down off Mt Buckhorn and hypothermia during the night was now a valid concern. The decision was made to push on an additional two miles to Boulder Camp. You won't hear me say this often ... but, fortunately these extra miles were downhill. I'd had enough of the song "Climb Every Mountain" for awhile.

Snowy Crossing - Photo by HIWalker Photo

Other than seeming far greater in distance than two miles, the final leg of our day was fairly uneventful. We hiked along at a steady pace, making our way back underneath the cloud cover and out of the wind. We speculated about where we lost the trail, and congratulated each other on testing our skillset. We crossed a steep snowfield, where young Jax amused himself with creating snowballs and small snow slides with his paws. He was romping, jumping, shoving show with his paws and grabbing mouthfuls of it. We couldn't stop laughing at how silly he was! Along the way we passed a couple sitting on the hillside with their dachshunds, the gentleman softly playing a harmonica. Birdsong returned as well as the abundant flora of the lower elevations. Hikers who had made Boulder their basecamp passed us on their return day trips, letting us know we were getting close. I love the camaraderie of backpackers - everyone watches out for everyone else, thereby ensuring everybody makes it out safely.

Holly & Jax enjoy a moment off their feet

About 3/4 mile out we caught our first glimpse of Boulder Camp. It was just a snippet of the roof of the shelter, but it a blessed sight. Finally, the end was in sight and you could almost feel our relief. As we wearily strode into camp, other hikers who had passed us along the way directed us to the only site still available which, as it happened, included the shelter. We dropped our packs, setup camp, ate dinner and relaxed amongst the shrubs and trees. There was laughter as we discussed the events of the day - we renamed Mt Buckhorn to something less polite and ruminated again about where we missed our turn. Birds sang their evening songs and rabbits hopped across the trail on their way to the brook that dissected camp. We looked up at Mt Buckhorn as the sun set, in awe that we had been up there just a few hours before. Eventually we hung our bear bags and turned in for a well-deserved night's rest.


It was a challenging day; both physically and emotionally demanding. It tested our strength, endurance, skills and mettle. It pushed us beyond our comfort zones. It was all these things and more. It was also stimulating, beautiful, peaceful, fulfilling, rewarding and full of adventure. As we snuggled into our sleeping bags, we did so with a sense of accomplishment. It was a good day.    

Day draws to a close at Boulder Camp - photo by Holly Scheyer

Hike 34 of 52
Distance Hiked: approximately 8
Elevation Gain: +1500, -1800 (give or take a mountain)
Max Elevation Achieved: 6600'
  

 

 

July Trek; Day Two; Tubal Cain to Buckhorn Lake

July 2, 2016


Morning dawns early in the forest. The birds serenade the sun as it rises, the trees filtering it rays through to life teeming on the forest floor. The abundant flora opens and turns to face the sun and the new day it brings. I lay in my tent, half-asleep and warmly snuggled into my sleeping bag, listening to the forest come alive. The day ahead of was a short-mileage day, so there was no need for us to crawl out of our tents early. Additionally, Holly had been unable to join us the day before, so we knew we wouldn't be leaving camp until she arrived. Slowly, one by one, we climbed out of our tents, stretched and began going about the tasks of preparing breakfast and breaking camp. With the impeccable timing I have come to know Holly for over the years, she walked up just as we were cramming the last few items into our packs - precisely on time. To give Holly a break, since she had just hiked 3.7 miles, we quickly searched out the main entrance to the mine, which is difficult to locate due to the myriad of foot trails in the area - all made by others in pursuit of the same destination. Not wanting to delay the day's trek any further, we abandoned the mine and hit the trail.



Evie amidst the wildflowers

Buckhorn Lake is roughly 2.5 miles from Tubal Cain. The trail starts out at Gold Creek and carries you out of the forest, climbing 800 feet in elevation in short order to a ridge face bursting with wildflowers. Here the trail levels out a bit, climbing more moderately but steadily, traversing the face of the ridge. We hiked waist deep through Cow Parsnip, Lupine, Paintbrush, Larkspur and Tiger Lilies. Butterflies fluttered from flower to flower as though dining in a wildflower buffet. At one point we looked across the valley and could just make out the well hidden entrance to the Tubal Cain mine. High atop the ridge a small group of deer watched us with little interest. All the while, an impressive Mount Buckhorn drew ever closer. I felt as though we were hiking in the Austrian Alps rather than our own back yard.



Evie & Holly, with Mount Buckhorn in the distance



After two miles we reached the junction with the spur trail to Buckhorn Lake. Here the trail rapidly dropped us a rugged 100 feet down to the lake's shore. One half mile later, after following a primitive trail through the trees, we arrived at the location of our second camp.

Buckhorn Lake is a small lake, almost jade in color, that is so clear we were able to watch the rainbow trout go about their business. They lazily swam about, weaving in and out of the shadows, mesmerizing us with the hypnotic rhythm of their movement. The lake is surrounded by dense forest and sits below Iron and Buckhorn Mountains, reflecting their images in its mirror-like surface. It was the perfect setting for our camp, peaceful and quiet, with a nearby stream for fresh water. We pitched our tents for the night and heated water for our meals, then Holly built a small fire around which we sat for warmth. We sipped the last of our wine while watching the setting sun light Mount Buckhorn in the warming and magical tones of evening. Nothing on television can ever compare to an evening in the back-country. After ensuring our fire was sufficiently out, we hung our bear bag on a limb over the stream then climbed into our tents for a well-deserved night's rest, serenaded to sleep by the birds, cicadas and nearby stream.



Buckhorn reflections - Photo by HIWalker Photo



Hike 33 of 52
Distance: 2.5 miles
Elevation Gain: 800'

Highest Elevation Achieved: 5200'

     

July Trek; Day One; Copper Creek to Tubal Cain

July 1, 2016

As much as some people love lighting off fireworks, it's just not one of my favorite things. As kids, we grew up watching the commercial exhibits, only being allowed sparklers and pinwheels. Being a dog owner, I am even less a fan of them as I have a dog that panics at the noise. I'm not talking about being jumpy or anxious, I am telling you that she goes into full-fledged terror mode; trembling, scrambling this way and that, trying to climb underneath furniture, clawing through doors to escape the noise, the full works. I live between two reservations where illegal fireworks are available, so the 'fun' starts early in our neighborhood. Rather than tranquilize her (which doesn't work), we take her camping or backpacking. The Fourth fell on a Monday this year, and fireworks legally went on sale the previous Friday. Thus the decision was made to head out into the wilderness for five full days of a different sort of liberty. My sister Heidi, and friends Evie (with her granddog Jax) and Holly joined our happy little troop.

We began our adventure on the familiar Gold Creek trail into the Buckhorn Wilderness, located in the NE section of the Olympics. This is a nicely maintained trail with moderate elevation that carried us through blooming rhododendrons, lush forest and over a few streamlets. We were within earshot of Gold Creek most of the way, and the birds in the canopy added their voices to forest's ballad. It was a beautiful day to begin a multi-day journey into the wilderness.

Gold Creek

It was early afternoon when we reached our camp in the shadow of Iron Mountain. We chose a campsite on the bank of Gold Creek, which afforded us privacy as well as access to water for filtering. With tents pitched and cat-hole dug, we explored the surrounding area. Heidi and I camped here last year, so it was fun seeing what had changed or remained the same since our last visit. The forest seemed more lush than last year as we've had more rain this summer, and wildflowers were blooming. Back at our campsite we sat back and simply absorbed the serenity of our surroundings. Evie poured us each a glass of wine, with which we toasted friendship and adventure. We prepared a quick dinner, hung our bear bags and retired early.      

 

 

 

 



Day 1 - Gold Creek

Hike 32 of 52
Distance: 3.7 miles
Elevation gain: 1200' Highest elevation achieved: 4400'