[D. Inscho]

My altimeter was not working for this trip due to a low battery. Instead of referencing it for rate of climb and doing estimates of arrival time (the hiking equivalent of one of those word math problems), I focused on other more relevant questions: Where did all this pumice and ash come from?; What are the olfactory notes in an eastern pine forest?; How long ago did Glacier Peak blow its top?; Is that a Swainsen’s or Hermit thrush song?; Does a winter wren have a summer song?; How does a Clark’s Nutcracker keep from becoming mired in the pitch of its mainstay food? Anyway, I could focus on important stuff like the crazy quiet, or how the Phelps creek roar is focused upward by a glacially carved valley.

Buck mountain at the breakout into meadows

Bodhran the posey sniffer

Crossroads

Descent into Rock Creek valley

Leroy High Route goes straight

Passage into Box Creek drainage

Final scrabble to ridgeline

Almost there...

A 4:30a departure from Bellingham had me on the trail by 8:30, beating the heat of the afternoon. This area has been an annual destination for 14 years now; the relatively bug-free ridgelines offer great vistas to the Entiat, Chiwawa, and White Mountain ranges. Remnants of winter provide essential water on otherwise dry prominences. As usual I set up the tent under the shady white pine, allowing for cool siestas. Friday was beautiful and warm. Saturday was fine too, until clouds began to menace with a gray growl around 1.

Tent under White pine, happier days...

Home meadow and Rock creek valley

Entiat crest, Chilly peak to far right

Rock Creek valley

Wanderings

Lupine and purple aster

Living room

From 7811' peak, Ice creek valley

From 7811' peak, Mt. Maude

From 7811', Ice Lakes

Fortunately, I was able to return from my day hike onto summit 7811’ in time to dive into the tent. Showtime began not long after, and that shady white pine began to look more like a liability as the lightning strikes advanced. I really tried to stop thinking about those hot dog cookers from the 70s that used voltage like a culinary electric chair, but there I was in the middle of nature’s version, ever mindful of my placement on the two foam pads beneath me. Poor Bodhran, he was certain that doom was imminent.

Tent-bound with hound

If the light show was not enough, hail completed the elemental picture. It hailed for three hours, pounding pea-sized ice. After awhile, my well-traveled tent began to show cracks; the hail battered the waterproof layer into tatters where the white pine did not shelter it. I had water spraying in at the weakened spots. It rained hard till about midnight, but at least the lightning and hail ended. I periodically bailed the boat during the night. As one might imagine, dawn was bright and precious.

Hail and the "Silver Slug"

Dry spell

The bugs were manageable with DEET, but I still paid homage to satan’s minions with blood sacrifice. I had a couple of wildlife encounters worthy of mention. While returning from my dayhike, while crouched on the rocky spine, a murder of ravens flew over the crest from the east. They were silent and numbered about 12. As is customary, I called to them in percussives. They swerved and dropped to inspect this humanoid thing and furry companion. For at least five minutes they swooped, swerved, and dove, on wind-busied feathers, nearly colliding with each other in a confusion of curiosity, again mostly silent, except for my calls. Eventually, one proceeded onward over the Box Creek drainage and gave a call; the others followed, onward to a place perhaps they did not even know. They left me with a smile and a profound sense of belonging, despite my pink softness and domesticated ways. Also worthy of mention: several flocks of colorful Evening Grosbeaks visited the ridgeline camp. On the hike out, still well off the beaten path, I encountered a weasel in a talus field below the ridge. It was dark brown with a crème brulee colored underbelly, only about 9 inches long, tiny ears and a seemingly oversized nose. It was very cautious and curious so I was able to enjoy it for a few minutes. It paralleled our travel, weaving in and out of the rock crevasses, looking and sniffing with that dark wet nose. Very cute! It eventually dashed off to whatever weasel business it had. I completely forgot about my camera as I usually do. I hope to remember the experience for a good long time though. So what about those musings on the hike in? Evidence of Glacier Peak’s volcanic history is all over; large pieces of pumice are scattered hither & thither, and the slick nature of the ash-based soil can be appreciated on any wet trail. The largest eruption was about 11,200 years ago, with the most recent activity 300 years ago. Alas, the Winter wren does not have a seasonal variation of its song, but I was able to identify both Swainsen’s and Hermit thrush songs. A Clark’s Nutcracker fastidious nature must be the only thing between it and a sticky fragrant fate. As for the distinctive notes of eastern WA forest, I would say butterscotch, grapefruit, and lemon with a hint of black pepper describes it. I sure did enjoy the solitude; except for seeing two people superimposed against glowering clouds on Maude’s summit Saturday, the place was unpeopled. I like that illusion. Happy Trails!

[GaliWalker]

Nice report (some parts, e.g. your 2nd last sentence, were particularly good), with some great views. Envious.

[D. Inscho]

Amen Gali, I sure do enjoy your ventures; I think we crossed paths several years ago at Glacier Lake near upper Chikamin. Alternatively I would like to add a thanks for your report on OH state parks; it re-awakened my interest in the more sedimentary focal points of the east when I visited early July.

[Get Out and Go]

I gotta' appreciate this style of Trip Report for a few reasons. * First of all, you've shown that one can find wonderful spots by breaking away from the "Cookie Cutter" hikes. (Not that there's anything wrong with the standard destinations. ) For example, there are places scarcely a mile off the PCT that show no sign whatsoever that anyone has ever tread there before. * Ah yes, revisiting the same location, year after year after year. While, it's always enjoyable to add a few new destinations every season, I too, am a sucker for going back to those special places time and time again. It doesn't matter. Every trip is going to have a different feel. (Even if the tent is placed under the exact same tree every time. ) I bet your frightening weather encounter will clearly make this trip unforgettable. *Any location in the Chiwawa drainage. I've been near your spot, but not up the ridge. Well, enough said. Can't go wrong. * Your TR style showed what you were thinking and asking yourself. Your affinity with Nature was clearly present. *The pictures weren't too shabby either. Oh yeah, now I see, D. Inscho. You're the one who posted the gorgeous shot of the night sky at a fire lookout. I love that picture. *Thanks for posting. I just wonder if you played around with the decision, "To Post or Not to Post"!! Now, you've gone and done it. Reservations will soon be required.

[D. Inscho]

Thanks for the feedback Get out and go; some destinations have proven utility at this time of year; why suffer in a buggy lake basin when you can have expansive views with pure winter for water. Additionally this area is rife with inspiration, quiet, and ancient forgotten routes. Also, I must admit to a "coming home feeling" to finding my food-hang rock in the same place I left it. The Entiats are grand and expansive. As for posting, I find it is better to share; most people are not willing to step off the ribbon of dirt. Additionally, if it should become "crowded", there are plenty more possibilities; I am about to step off into the unknown as bug season subsides in a couple of weeks. But sharing with those with the proper sense of wonder for the backcountry is reverential in its own right. I will be looking for your offttrail reports GOAG.