Come Along

Come along and hike with me;
Share the wonder of what we see.

We’ll take to trails both far and near,
To mountains high and lakes so clear.

See meadows awash in every hue;
assaulted by yellow, orange and blue.

Stand beneath trees immeasurably tall,
their lofty boughs high above us all.

Listen to the songs of the forest deep,
of birds and frogs and babbling creek.

We’ll wander trails that animals share,
our footprints among the deer and bear.

Along ridgetops to mountain peaks,
through forests dense and canyons deep.

Stare in awe at a river grand,
and marvel at God’s wondrous hand.

So, come along and hike with me;
Share the wonder of what we’ll see.

~Kristi Feddock

2016 - A Look Back

December 31, 2016


I sit in a motel room in Cle Elum with my sister and granddaughter, Cupcake, and our dog Zillah. Down the hall in a room of their own are Andrea and Evie. Zillah is snoring contentedly away on the bed next to Heidi, who is working on her own blog, while 7-year old Cupcake slumbers next to me. In the relaxing quiet of the evening, I can't help but reflect back on my year.


This year I accepted a 52-hike challenge. The goal is to get people outside once a week. It sounds easy - until you consider I live in an area where it rains. A lot. Historically more a 'fair weather' hiker, I forced myself to go outside and play in the rain. As my mother assured me on more than one occasion, I wasn't going to melt. Covering my 52 hikes led me on an adventure where I explored 32 new trails and hiked 58 in total. I climbed up 13 mountains, taking me to four new summits. I left bootprints on 339 miles of trail, and ascended 68,703 feet of elevation. The majority of these miles where shared with friends, many who were new to hiking. Introducing them to the pastime and watching them grow was one of the highlights of my year.


2016 also took me on a multi-day trek into the Buckhorn Wilderness of the Olympics, where I faced new challenges and pushed my body's endurance. This trip revealed areas of strength I don't always see within myself, and pointed out some weaknesses I need to work on. It was quality time spent with my sister, whom I treasure more than she will ever know (or that I'm likely to openly admit). The trip was made more special by sharing it with friends Evie and Holly.


August saw me ascend to the top of Mount St Helens for the third time. Standing on the rim of the crater with my sister was a memorable event. As I stared down into the crater, I was astonished how much the dome has grown since I first looked down on it four years ago. I was humbled, as always, at the amazing forces of nature at work. Seeing her recover from such a devastating event as her 1980 eruption, restructuring and re-growing, serves as a reminder that, no matter what life throws at me, I can do the same. We are connected, St Helens and I. She humbles me. It was also on this trip that I stumbled on some loose scree and fell a few feet down the boulder field. I was fortunate that my sister was there with me - between the two of our cool heads and combined first aid kits, we were able to calmly patch me up and get me safely off the mountain.


I love sharing my love of nature, the outdoors and hiking. This year, for her seventh birthday, I took Cupcake on her first overnight pack trip. When you find yourself taking life for granted, look at it through the eyes of a child. The ordinary and mundane become fascinating and exciting. Run. Laugh. Play. Get sand in your butt-crack. Take off your shoes and bury your feet in sand, wriggle your toes in the mud. Splash in puddles. Poke the anemones. We only get one life - we should enjoy every minute of it.


Life isn't spent looking in the rearview mirror, so I turned my focus forward to 2017. I am excited about my plans for the new year. My goals for the year include:

• Accomplish the 52-hike challenge for a second year
• Meet a trail mileage goal of 500 miles
• Explore and play, learn, expand my knowledge of the outdoors
• Continue helping people reconnect with themselves and the natural world through hiking
• Spend more time sleeping under the stars
• Backpack a portion of the John Muir Trail through Yosemite with my sister
  and, lastly...
• Live.

I breath deeply, snuggle up to my granddaughter and fall asleep to awaken in the new year. I am ready.

Rampart Ridge

December 17, 2016




Icicles at Longmire

Winter is upon us in the Pacific Northwest. With winter comes snow in the mountains (where we prefer it stays) and I trade in my hiking boots for snowshoes. I have typically stuck to the easier snowshoe routes in years past due to the technical level of my snowshoes. Last spring, however, I was fortunate enough to win a pair of my dream backcountry snowshoes. This means that I am now able to branch out a little and expand my skill level on  more difficult routes. Located in the Longmire area of Mount Rainier, Rampart Ridge was the perfect route for this. Also ready to stretch their wings, I was joined by Evie, Andrea and her friend Jason.   

But first ... Fishers. 

Fishers are a housecat sized member of the weasel family, the larger cousin to the martin and mink. By the early 1900's, their numbers had been totally eliminated in Washington State by over-trapping and loss of habitat. In 1998 they were placed on the endangered species list. There is currently a multi-year project under way to reintroduce fishers to the Cascades. They are being captured in British Columbia, given a vet check, logged and implanted with a transponder (about the size of a roll of Rolo candy) then released into the wild. Each animal will claim a territory of about 35 square kilometers and it is hoped that they will return to the general area of their release to mate. Serendipitously, they were releasing six fishers at Longmire the morning we came to snowshoe. Although it would set us behind schedule, we chose to participate in the release. What an incredible, once-in-a-lifetime experience. We joined the small parade, helping to carry the wooden crates to the release point. Obscured from view behind trees, we watched as the biologists helped the kids in attendance open the crates and release the animals into the wild, one by one. Each fisher tested the air, then darted out of the crate and off into the woods, their release met with quiet cheers and applause.

The release of the fishers done, we returned to the truck, donned our gear and headed off into the woods ourselves, albeit in a different direction.

I love wandering the woods in wintertime. The snow blankets the ground, hushing the world so the forest can sleep. The depth of the dark colors are magnified by the stark white colorlessness of the snow. The tracks of deer, snowshoe hares and other forest denizens remind us that we aren't alone. I am filled with childlike wonder and warmed by memories of winters past. Occasionally I can feel my mother walking alongside me, and can almost feel my hand in hers. Rampart Ridge, although a longer and more difficult route than I had taken to date, brought all this to the plate ... and more.


The trail started across the street from the lodge at Longmire, carrying us on rolling terrain through snow-covered meadows, past an old cabin and mineral springs. We were officially on the 'Trail of Shadows' at this point - with the low lying clouds diffusing any direct light, it was very appropriately named. We reached the junction with our trail and left the easy portion of our trip behind. It was here that the trail began a steady and somewhat steep 1,200 foot climb to the top of the ridge. I haven't done much elevation on my recent hikes and I was feeling the effects as my lungs and legs strained to carry me up the trail. I stopped frequently to catch my breath. The trail was easy to follow through the snow, which allowed me to enjoy more of the scenery surrounding me.


We came to a viewpoint that overlooked the Longmire area below us. It was here we realized just how far we had climbed in the last 1.5 miles - the lodge looked like a tiny Christmas diorama.

Longmire area from atop Rampart Ridge

We traversed the ridge a few hundred yards until we intersected the Wonderland Trail. The Wonderland is a 93 mile long trail that wraps all the way around Mount Rainier. For our needs this day it would lead us back to the lodge, creating a loop route. The sun began setting as we made our way down the trail, casting the forest into darkness. The light of our headlamps and what moonlight that filtered through the trees reflected off the snow, illuming our way for us. We could hear a small stream to our left, quietly flowing through snow-covered banks. Aside from that and the sounds of our snowshoes crunching through the surface, the quiet was absolute. The trail was, in places, very steep, giving us the opportunity to test the traction of our snowshoes. The lodge was warmly aglow from yellow lights, our truck the lone vehicle in the lot. We all felt good about the day's adventure and our accomplishments. It was a grand day spent on a grand mountain. 

Hike 58 - final hike of the year.
Distance: 4.5 milesElevation gain: 1200'
Max elevation achieved: 4050'   

Franklin Falls

December 14, 2016

Giant Floating Marshmallows (photo credit: Jen M.)

A much needed mid-week day off was spent clicking another hike off my bucket list - Franklin Falls.

Located just a stone's throw off Interstate 90, a dozen or so miles outside of North Bend, you can find the 109 foot final drop of three-tiered Franklin Falls (the first two tiers are obscured from view). Although classified a 'cascade' style waterfall, during the winter months it veils out into an impressive ice show. It was this ice show I was in pursuit of. Due to it's winter reputation, the ease of the trail, and its close proximity to Seattle, this is an extremely popular destination - thus my decision to head out on a weekday.


The road to the trailhead is cleared only a small portion of the way. Not knowing exactly what conditions lay ahead, my trail partner, Jen, and I parked at the bottom and started walking the three miles of roadway. We were about 1/3 of the way up when two young men in a 4wd picked us up. Fun guys - they were headed up to climb the ice flow in preparation for a spring ascent of Denali. We bounced, jostled and laughed in the backseat as they bombed their way up the bumpy, snowy road. Once at the trailhead they packed up their gear as we strapped on our snowshoes to start the quick trek to the falls, and we parted ways.

 

photo credit: Jen M.

The snow on the trail was fairly compacted most of the way up. Plenty of visitors were attempting it in snow boots and hiking boots (there was even one idiot up there in sneakers) and there were places where they had post-holed down over a foot into the snow. We passed a few who were struggling to gain footing as they slipped and slid up/down the trail. The trail is only about a mile in length (one-way) but must have seemed much longer to those without proper gear. I was very thankful for my snowshoes! All around us was a beautiful, thick forest with an occasional seasonal cabin tucked in under the boughs. The blanket of snow was broken by the meandering South Fork Snoqualmie River, which contained snow covered boulders that looked like giant marshmallows. Other than the sound of our snowshoes and the quietly flowing water, no sounds could be heard. The silence was bliss.  

  

Winter wonderland

Once we had reached the falls, I was awestruck. Franklin Falls was resplendent. The icicles formed by the mist from the falls 'flowed' over the surrounding cliffs and boulders, giving the impression of a curtain of ice. The water of the falls themselves flowed freely, the white of its flow contrasting with the blue of the ice. There was a layer of light blue ice partially covering the dark blue of the pool at the bottom. The colors of the ice and waters were in sharp contrast to the grays of the cliff walls, and greens and browns of the forest. The wind here was strong, bitingly cold and blew spray from the waterfall, which froze as soon as it landed on us. Jen's long hair had little ice strands peeking out from beneath her hat. We watched with fascination as Forrest and Thatcher, the young men who gave us the ride up, began their ascent of the ice flow. The bitterness of the cold chilled us, despite our layers, so we didn't linger too long. 

photo credit: Jen M.

 

Ice Climbers prepare for their ascent

Franklin Falls

Back at the trailhead our adventure continued. A Bronco full of young folks was stuck in the snow. We threw our shoulders into the task at hand and helped to push them out. In return, they asked if we'd like a ride back to our car, an offer we weren't about to turn down. We made it less than a mile when we came to a backup - a family on the way up in their Acura were seriously stuck and were blocking the narrow road in both directions. From reports, they had been there an hour. Although they had all-wheel drive, they were unprepared for winter driving conditions - no snow tires, no chains, no sand ... in fact, my car was the only one up there that had any of that, and it's a Mustang! Nonetheless, we helped get him down to a point where a young man with a winch-equipped Jeep could tow him down the road, and everyone was once again on their way. Our adventure ended after what seemed an eternity when we arrived back at the car ... which the snowplow had managed to barricade in.

The trip to Franklin Falls was a wonderful way to spend a mid-week 'mental health' day. The falls didn't disappoint, leaving me with a spectacular memory I won't soon forget.

photo credit: Jen M.

Hike 57
Distance: 3 miles
Elevation gain: 400'
Max Elevation Achieved: 2,600'