Northern Exposures

I don't always get around to editing all the photos I've taken over the years. Here's a few of my most recent edits. Enjoy.

Descent from Cube Iron Mountain - Lolo National Forest, Montana

Capa Alava sunset - Olympic National Park, Washington

Two Medicine region - Glacier National Park, Montana

Mountain reflection in Upper Stevens Lake - Idaho Panhandle National Forest, Idaho

I Will Return

Leona Falls. Can you see my brother?

Outside of the destruction zone caused by the eruption, Mount St Helens National Volcanic Monument is a very green and beautiful place.The forest is thick with ferns and lichens and mushrooms and moss covered stone and mighty hemlocks, and at every turn a stream is running down the mountainside and crossing the trail.

If the conditions are right, life can grow on rock.

Did I mention the forest is wet? You can see the dew on the leaves and moisture in the ground. The sound of running water is a constant companion, and It seems at every turn you're rock hopping over a stream or fording an ice cold creek.

My brother fording Goat Creek

In the summer of 2010 we were turned back by snow at the top of Tumwater mounatin. This summer, I will return.

Little Guy

Purple Shore Crab

While hiking on the coast in Olympic National Park I saw this Purple Shore Crab. He was a little guy but he sure was pissed about me shoving my camera in his face.

In the Clouds

 I shot this in Glacier Park last year. We were standing in a cloud on a mountainside around 7,000' and there was just enough break in the clouds that I saw some mountaintops peeking out from the other side of this huge valley. It was pretty epic. Actually, it was magical.

Rocka Rolla: Dawson Pass Loop Day 2 - Glacier National Park

Not long after we left the moose behind, it started raining.  The forecast actually looked really good, calling for a chance of rain Thursday but partly cloudy Saturday and Sunday with highs in the 70’s.  Despite all the times the weather forecast has been wrong, I believed it like a fool, and packed accordingly.  So you can imagine the look on my face a couple hours earlier at the Ranger station when I stood bemused while the Ranger was contacted by radio and informed right in front of us that an arctic storm blowing across Canada would hit the park that night and last for two damn days.  Here it was early August and Glacier Park was expecting 2 inches of snow…

 So when the rain started, all I had for protection was a pack cover and a rain jacket, which usually would be fine in a regular rain storm… But it rained hard and never stopped.  By the time we got to camp at No Name Lake I was soaked. My feet were soaked through waterproof boots, my whole upper body was soaked through a waterproof jacket, and my pants were so wet I could wring them out like a dish rag. I’ll be honest; it made me rethink the quality of my gear.  The really crappy part was that because fires are illegal in most of Glacier Parks backcountry, we didn't build one. We sat in the rain and made dinner, and the first time the rain broke, we hurriedly pitched our tents.

Finally the rain did let up and we all went down to the water and did some fishing. The dreary overcast sky was darkening with the coming of twilight, and as we fished at the waters edge a thunderclap exploded in the sky overhead.  It boomed like a howitzer and the violent crash of rolling thunder stampeded from the mountain side onto our beach and shook the ground beneath our feet. And there it remained, unwavering, beating against our courage and filling our bones with dread. Our eyes were fixed on a massive sheer cliff towering over our beach like Point du Hoc, and with eyes wide open we could see stones and boulders violently tumbling down its doom lit face and smashing into the rocks below.  It was a sight to behold, the raw power of nature. Jesse looked at me and for the second time today asked, “Should we be standing here?”

Luke fly-fishing No Name Lake

It rained all night and the next morning.  At breakfast we discussed our course of action. Luke and I were so sick of the rain. We have been rained on every backpacking trip since April. It seemed we couldn't escape it and we were both feeling like we just wanted to be dry. But Jesse came to the rescue with words of wisdom that really got moral turned back around, “Overcoming adversity like this is what makes you a better and stronger man, we need to finish what we started.” Of course he was right, and a half hour later we were packed up and heading west toward the continental divide.

Training with Ticks: Coeur d'Alene National Recreation Trail

Luke

This was supposed to be a training hike for the Olympic coast. Test our gear, test our legs, no problem, in and out. The original plan was to take two vehicles, and leave one at the most northern trailhead of the Ceour D Alene National Recreation Trail, come in from the south and hike its entire 14 mile length, with an overnight in between at Jordan camp. This was not to be however, as a Forrest Ranger explained to me the day before we left, "All the trail heads are snowed in, 'cept one!"

Okay, new plan, no problem. We would do it the old fashion way, in and out. The place is beautiful, an hour away from Spokane, and deep in the Idaho panhandle. Wildlife viewing was plentiful right from the start. How lucky can we be? Two Bald Eagles perched on leafless trees less than 50 feet from the road. Five minutes later a couple of young bull elk fraternizing in the middle of the street. I exited the truck to take some shots with the Nikon, and as I crept in closer all I could think about were all the stupid tourists that get mauled by buffalo in Yellowstone every year and wind up on “When Animals Attack!” on TBS. I think I need a more powerful zoom lens because the 18-55 mm doesn’t cut the mustard for the wildlife shots.

Meandering

We hit the trail around 10am, and after a quarter-mile dropped down into a gorgeous river valley. Spring was still in its infancy at these headwaters and the colors were those of the cold, but I could imagine that when the flowers bloom, and the leaves of the sleeping trees awaken, and the sounds of birds and bugs join in the rushing rivers song, then it is an even more beautiful place. 

 Another quarter-mile on the valley floor and we began to climb, probably the steepest of the trip. Finally we reached a hilltop at the base of the mountain that provided our best view so far. The meandering Coeur d’ Alene swerved determinedly through a plane of dull yellow brush, and around towering dark-brown rock formations full of mysterious caves and crevices. The riverside was a sheer rock cliff, dropping down perhaps 150 feet to the river below, whose currents caused a never ending cycle of waves crashing against its base. It was a spectacular view.

We were spoiled by the views for the next 4 or 5 miles, as the trail wound around the mountain sides dipping into saddles and forcing us to make several stream crossings. These streams, I imagine, are nearing full strength as the snows melt from the mountain tops. With such a mild winter, I wonder how far into the summer they will last…?

Jordan camp came too soon. It turned out to be an actual campground, but this early in the season it was deserted. Well, it wasn't totally deserted. The April residents of Jordan camp are ticks. Steve found one first crawling on his neck. Luke found one on his pants heading for his crotch. All-in-all between Steve, Luke, Michael, and me, we found around 25 ticks on our bodies by trips end. Most were picked up on the trail, some in the camp. Only two were actually “attached”, one on my shoulder, and one in Luke’s belly button. Luckily I had my trusty first aid kit that my mom bought me for Christmas, and I promptly removed them with tweezers.

The act of tick removal, high up on a cliff overlooking the river, started the funniest moment of the trip. Please, picture this scene in your mind’s eye. We were all standing around, shirts off, pants down, inspecting our bodies for ticks. My Uncle Steve mentioned that he “loathed” ticks and described them as the most “vile” of all creatures. He then got the quote of the day after I pulled a squirming tick from his right butt cheek, “Death is too good for a tick,” he said. This launched the talk into a competition over who could think of the most creative way to torture a tick. Not surprisingly Steve won the contest with this delightful technique. “You pin the tick to a board and pull its legs off, then prick your finger and let a drop of blood fall just a quarter-inch away.” The creative names we gave the ticks were funnier still; hitchhiker, squatter, freeloader, socialist, etc.

When all was said-and-done it was a great “training” hike. Luke unfortunately though got sick. He came down with some type of flu, exhibiting a fever, chills, upset stomach, and aches and pains in his legs and feet. I tried to give him some drugs but he refused, citing his infamous philosophy, “embrace the pain." He busted his ass for seven long hard miles, in what he described as one of the hardest experiences of his life, never once complaining or asking for help. He soldiered on.

Swamp Frog Symphony: Liberty Lake Loop

I wen't on a hike last Saturday with Roby up at Liberty Lake. I brought my new REI Flash 30 pack, and of course my camera. 5 minutes into the hike we come to the marsh at the end of the lake. I know when it's just around the bend because the frogs are always going crazy. A frog symphony if you will, and yet I cannot ever seem to spot a single performer.

I peruse the waters edge squinty-eyed and diligent in my quest, and even though there must be hundreds of the little Kermits croaking the day away mere feet from myself, I can't find a one. But the early Spring scenery is a breath of fresh air from the cold gray winter, and momentarily inspired I pull my camera from its case and line up the perfect shot. Well, maybe not perfect. This Saturday happens to be the prettiest day we've had for weeks. The rains have taken a break, and the sun has resumed its rightful place as king of the sky and provider of beautiful Spring days. As such the trail is busy today. I don't have time to take the perfect shot because the two cute college girls in Gonzaga shirts and North Face soft shells are closing in fast, and behind them an army of Boy Scouts are on the march. Quickly, but carefully, I find the shot I want, and when I press the shutter button all the way down I get a flashing message in bold red letters reading, "No SD Card Inserted". Damn. So much for that plan.

Of course, this happens to be the day that Roby and I notice a dozen other "perfect" shots. A woman on horseback crossing Liberty Creek, the last vestiges of ice holding on to the bottom of a fallen fir tree, a mushroom so gargantuan that people have actually signed it, a huge stump of burlwood that looks like something out of a Tim Burton movie. I took a couple shots with the phone but it's not the same. The only one that turned out okay was Roby wringing out his socks after I led him through a swamp and his feet got soaked. I couldn't help but cracking up laughing the entire time. I felt bad, but it was just so damn funny!

Next week is our big trip to the Olympic coast. I am beside myself with excitement. I have been

obsessing about backpacking since the Fall and am anxious to finally hit the trail. I have found someone to shuttle us for $150.00 big ones. His name is Willie Nelson, and yes, he looks just like Willie Nelson the country singer. Luke's knee is feeling better, which is really good news. This weekend we are going backpacking at the headwaters of the Coeur d' Alene River to test out Luke's knee, and some of our new gear. If he can do this 14 miles he can do 23 on the coast. I am keeping my fingers crossed.