Hiking back out to the Pete Lake trailhead, and getting a little work done along the way....
Our last night on the trail was bittersweet. The next day, we'd all be splitting up, heading to the four corners of the state. I decided to dress up our last night by wearing a tie, but nobody else felt it necessary to dress up. Have you ever walked into room with what looks like a bunch of homeless people while wearing a tie? Yep, that's what I did. =)
When I passed by Gary's tent, he waved me in closer.
"Do you know anything about that tree by the avalanche chute?"
"You mean that one that fell during the night?"
"Yeah, that one."
I rubbed my chin, trying to decide if I should fess up. "Yes, I might know something about that," I told him. =)
"I thought you might. We were a bit perplexed when we got down and it was already gone!"
This stream used to go down about 30 feet of trail, but I scratched out a path to shorten that to about 10 feet. The 20 feet of trail past this point is still wet where the water used to run, but it'll dry...
I didn't ask how he knew it was me--I assumed he figured it out from a process of elimination. There weren't many people who had the tools and opportunity to have done the work, but it made me smile to imagine them trying to figure out how the tree managed to cut itself out of the way. =) Gary thanked me for the unexpected help and I moseyed along.
Ken scouted the PCT to the south and found three more fallen trees on our side of a washed-out bridge, trees that one team would cut out in the morning before we quit for the day.
I set up my tarp due to threatening-looking clouds, but by the time I went to sleep, the skies had cleared so I unhooked one-half of it and folded it back along the other half. If it did start raining during the night, it would be relatively easy for me to reattached the loose side.
It didn't rain, though, and I enjoyed the stars during the night.
The next day, we took our time getting up. One team set off to clear the PCT of the fallen trees to the south while the rest of us fixed up the trail back to the trailhead for Pete Lake. Most of the work everyone did was cutting back the vegetation, but I carried the grub-hoe this time and worked on water drainage issues. Along the Pete Lake trail, there were some big problems with water not draining properly off the trail. Some of the issues were far too big for one person to fix quickly--our goal was to get back to the trailhead by 1:00 in the afternoon. And since I had the only grub-hoe in our group, I couldn't really expect much help. Handsaws and cross-cut saws generally aren't suitable tools for digging water drains.
Everyone, including the team that was originally behind us to cut out the three logs across the PCT, managed to pass me while I played in the mud. In one place, water ran about 30 feet down the length of the trail before it drained off into a meadow. There wasn't an easy or quick fix for this problem. The trail was so worn, it fell several inches below the surrounding terrain. With enough time and effort, I could have dug out a drainage where the water could cross the trail without running down it, but I didn't have enough time for that. So instead, I found a low point where the water could almost get off the trail and dug out that section. The water still drained down about 10 feet of the trail, but that's still a big improvement over the 30 feet of trail it had been running across.
For this project, I couldn't get the water off the trail in the short time I had to work, so I pushed the water to the right side of the trail so people could walk on the dry left side.
Another area had water running down about 15 feet of trail, but I couldn't see any quick or easy fixes for that. The trail was just worn down too deep. So I made a quick temporary fix, pushing up a lot of the rocks and debris on one side of the trail to the other side of the trail. This gave the water a channel on one side to flow down the trail and a dry area where hikers could travel on the other side. Not ideal, and it's certainly not a permanent solution, but at least it'll make things marginally better for anyone hiking the busy trail.
So I dug water drains, in mud and rocks, trying to do what I could to keep water off the trail. The Pete Lake Trail is in bad shape--a WTA work party could spend a week fixing up the water drainage issues along this short section of trail. As busy as it was, I felt that more turnpikes really needed to be installed. And the trail was busy--extremely busy now that it was a weekend. I passed dozens of people, three groups of people riding horses, half a dozen dogs, and--most unexpectedly--two goats. I'd never seen anyone take their goats out for a walk before, and they were so adorable! The goats were in training to carry loads, but they weren't carrying anything this year. This year was about teaching them how to hike on trails, cross streams, and get comfortable with their surroundings. The next year, the owners told us, they'd start carrying loads.
I finally reached one of the biggest pools of water sitting on the trail and at a cursory glance, I thought I could make a big improvement here. The pool of water looked like it was a good three or four inches deep in the middle and it spanned the entire width of the trail. A saw large frogs swimming in the water. A small berm on one side seemed to hold the water in place preventing it from draining downwards off the trail, and I thought if I could just knock enough of that berm down, most of the water would drain right off the trail. The deepest part in the middle probably wouldn't, but I wasn't looking to fix the problem--just make it a little less bad. If I could drain it enough so people could walk along the side of the trail, it would be a huge improvement. As it was now, an entirely new path was forming cutting the turn in the trail off completely.
I went to work with the grub-ho, splashing mud and water all over myself, and started seeing the water draining of the trail into the marshy area. I was quite proud of this, and stood up on a log nearby which when I noticed that there was water draining into the trail from the other side of the log. The level of the water in the pool wasn't going on at all--I'd just created a current that hadn't been there before.
My public works project.... ... that failed. =(
It wasn't a fast current, but the water was coming from a stream that ran into this log--a solid wall that the water couldn't go through, and so the water did what water does--it drained around the log. The berm had trapped the water from draining on the trail side, so it pooled up then went around the other side of the log. Now that I cleared out the berm, the water was slowly going around both sides of the log now. I needed to block the channel where water was getting into the trail--but I didn't have the time to fashion a solution. Drats. My biggest earth-moving project on the trip came to a screeching failure.
I cut my losses and continued the hike out to the trailhead. I hiked fast, no longer doing any trail work at all, trying to catch up with the rest of the group, asking people hiking in the opposite direction how far ahead of me they were located. I only managed to catch up with Gary before I reached the trailhead, but I was glad that I wasn't bringing up the rear and had everyone waiting on me.
I didn't have a ride scheduled to get me home from this point. My plan was to hitch a ride from anyone heading towards Seattle, and Joanna offered to give me a ride to the Bellevue Park and Ride. Perfect! Had nobody been heading towards Seattle, I did have a Plan B: I'd spend the next two days hiking south on the PCT to Snoqualimie Pass where Amanda would pick me up. =) As much as I'd have loved to hike to Snoqualmie Pass, I didn't really have time--I needed to get a lot done before I left town for nearly four months in just a few more days! But I had brought two days of extra food.... just in case.
So we all said our goodbyes and headed our separate ways. I hopped into Joanna's vehicle, and she drove me to Bellevue, where I picked up a bus that took me into downtown Seattle, where I transferred to another bus that took me home to West Seattle.
In related news, please help support WTA trips like this one by sponsoring me for WTA's annual Hike-a-Thon!
The day started nice enough. A beautiful morning with amazing views in the Alpine Lakes Wilderness. I could think of worse ways to spend a birthday, and not only was it my birthday, but nobody even knew it. I rather liked it that way--my little secret. =)
Team Chainsaw got an early start cutting more trees. One tree that we cut, the top end slid down the slope so where one tree blocked the trail, we ended up creating two trees blocking the trail which amused me to no end. "Are we trying to make the trail worse than we left it?"
But it was such a large log, it easier to handle the two halves separately, and eventually we got both parts off the trail. For all the effort it entailed, though, it was a little disappointing to count it as one tree.
Our next challenge had two parallel trees blocking the trail, not more than one or two feet apart from each other. It was a tale of two trees. One was smooth having lost its bark years before but dug deeply into the trail when it fell, burying the end of it surprisingly deep. The other tree was still rough with bark, but managed to fall without burying itself into the trail. Both trees were fairly large--perhaps a foot-and-a-half in diameter. Definitely too big for a Corona handsaw, and definitely too big and heavy to push off the trail.
A closer examination of the tree at the top of the slope showed that neither of them were actually attached to anything, although the smooth tree was resting on some of the branches of the rough-barked tree that seemed to hold it in place, as if they were in a dance and entwined when they fell.
I wasn't entirely sure how to handle this little mess. Cutting with a cross-cut saw would be difficult because each tree got in the other tree's way. Larry went to work digging up the trail where the smooth tree embedded itself, and I went to work cutting off the limbs and stobs from both logs. I'm not sure which if us had the more difficult job, but Larry finished before I did and started helping out with the stobs. The smooth tree I felt we had a good shot at pushing down the slope if we could only dig it out enough from where it buried itself in the trail, then the rough-barked tree would be easy to cut. That was my working theory, at least, but to have any chance of sliding the tree very far, we needed to cut off every stob and branch that would help hold it in place, including the ones underneath it. It caused some awkward moments, trying to get the small handsaw around and under the tree while trying to avoid sliding down the steep slope ourselves.
Wassa Jr. hangs out in my new pack.
My old PCT pack is pretty wore out, so I sewed
this beautiful thing for my upcoming Camino hike. =)
A half hour later, we were able to wiggle the smooth tree, but found a few more stobs that we hadn't been able to see until then and stopped to cut those off as well. From the top of the slope, where I worked, the log still looked pretty embedded into the trail so I was skeptical when Larry said it was time to push it off the trail. "It's not going to happen," I told him confidently.
Larry and Marcella stood back, and I found a place where I could try to push the log with my legs, and I'll be darned, but that tree took off like a rocket shooting down the hillside at a terrific speed. A hundred feet down the slope, a couple of fallen trees blocked the route and I waited for the inevitable collision and crash as our log shot into the debris, but the log bounced just enough that the tip went over the resting logs and shot the log into the air like a skier off a ramp. The momentum of the log pushed it completely over the debris pile, arched through the air, and continued sliding down the mountain until it hit a flatter area and slowed down, finally crashing into other fallen logs.
Larry and I got pretty excited about all this. "Yes! Now that's what I'm talking about!"
"Wooo-who!"
The massive log we pushed barely looked larger than a toothpick now, so far down slope. It appeared to have cracked in the middle at some point--it was definitely not straight an an arrow anymore. My one regret--I got absolutely none of it on video. I really didn't think that log was going to go very far.
The rough-barked tree wasn't going to slide so easily--the bark was much too rough to glide across the ground like the log that didn't have the bark on it anymore--but Larry wanted to try pushing it anyhow. With the other tree out of the way, it was much more accessible than before, and we cut off a few more stobs that revealed themselves with the removal of the first tree. Then both Larry and I got behind it and started pushing, and by golly, he was right again. The tree started to slide a little, then it got stuck, the uphill end hanging in mid-air. My feet lost their grip and slid off the tree, and I slid down the slope under the overhanging tree--not a good position to be in. Larry still had his feet securely on the tree, though, and I managed to scrambled back up and out of the danger zone without any trouble. Whew. That was a little scary.
Ken tells a story. Turns out, I crossed paths with
Ken during my PCT thru-hike. He was part
of the group I ran into at Junction Lake.
The tree was so close to sliding down the hill, though, and we gave it another shove. It slid a little more and got hung up on the rough bark again. We gave it another shove and this time, it took off, shooting down the mountain at a high velocity. This tree crashed down the hillside a bit less gracefully, stopping near the first pile of debris that I thought would mark the end of the first tree's run. Another fantastic crash! And once again, I got absolutely none of it on video.
"Why is it," I asked Marcella and Larry, "when I take a video, the trees don't go very far, but when I don't take a video, it does that?!"
I also wondered about how we should count those tree. Our standard, so far, had been to count any tree blocking the trail that we could free without cutting the main trunk of the tree as a "half tree," so technically speaking, both of these logs should have been counted as half trees. But the amount of preparation involved to get these out was enormous. Digging the one tree out from where it buried itself it the trail and cutting off several dozen branches and stobs was no quick or easy task. Most of the trees we had cut didn't require as much work or effort as the prep work that went into these trees, so we made an exception to our rule and counted both trees as full trees.
Marcella worked on rebuilding the trail. After Larry dug out the first tree, and both trees scraping across the trail, the trail now had an enormous pit in it. A certifiable wreck. We now had to fix the trail from the damage we inflicted onto it.
Larry and I found a some large, solid rocks to layer in the hole--a solid base that will hopefully help prevent erosion in the future--while Marcella pushed around the dirt with the grub-hoe and made it look like a trail again. In fact, it seemed better than ever. The trail had already started sliding down the slope even before the trees left their mark, and when we finished, we brought it back to where it was supposed to be. It took some doing, but we did really good work. =)
Joanna's ready to do some logging!
We headed down trail to look for more trees blocking the trail and ran into Gary and his helpers another five or ten minutes down the trail, telling him that all of the trees above us are done--except the ones that other teams are already working on. He told us that all of the trees below them were done.
"So, we're done?"
"Yeah, there aren't anymore trees blocking the trail. Except that one that fell overnight near the avalanche chute at near Leamh Meadows."
I snickered to myself knowing that even that tree was no longer there, but I let the others keep thinking it was still there. =)
It wasn't even noon yet, though, and we didn't have anymore trees to cut off the trail. We were a little disappointed. In all, Team Buzzsaw cleared the trail of 17 1/2 trees for the duration of our trip, out of the estimated 80 or so that were blocking the trail.
The other teams finished up the last trees they were working on and we all took a break for lunch. Joining up was Ranger John, who hiked up to meet us and help out, and he was the star of the party telling us wild stories of washed-out bridges, firefighting efforts during the Lemah Fire, discovering the avalanche chute so many years ago, other work parties, and even--admitting a little sheepishly--that he had locked himself out of his vehicle the day before and had to hitch a ride with a family of 4 to the ranger station to get the spare keys which was why we didn't see him the day before. =)
The others said that the only tree left blocking the trail was that one by the avalanche chute, but John said he didn't see it--but he camped at a climbers campsite near there the night before and must have missed it.
Joanna was around to hear that, and I looked at her to see if she was paying attention. If she was, though, she wasn't paying attention to me. She's the only other person who knew that that log wasn't there anymore and that John probably didn't see it just because it wasn't there anymore. =)
After running out of trees to clear, we started doing other
trail work. This section was trail was getting overgrown
with plants, so we pulled a lot of them out from the trail
and along the sides of the trail.
After lunch, John continued up the trail--he intended to go over the top, through all the snow and down to Waptus Lake. The rest of us continued down the trail planning to do some other trail maintenance along the way. Larry ran off with the grub-hoe, widening the trail where necessary while Marcella and I wound up near the back of the pack pulling out saplings from the side of the trail before they could grow into something whose branches would start blocking the trail and using loppers to cut back vine maple and pines already overgrowing sections of the trail.
Marcella eventually went a little ways ahead, pulling out saplings while I did the lopping. I grabbed the loppers to cut some branches overhanging the trail--hikers would have no trouble getting under them, but anyone riding a horse would have had problems, so I'd scramble up as high was I could on the uphill side of the slope, stretch out my arms as high above me as I could with the loppers, and cut the branches as high up as I could reach.
I kind of assumed Marcella wasn't that far away, but after a half hour or so, I started wondering what happened to her. I figured I'd catch up quickly enough, though, and started skipping some areas and lopping only the worst areas. I had it down to a science--I didn't even have to take off my pack. I'd cut the branches directly above my head--it didn't matter if they fell and hit my head since I had a hardhat on. I'd cut down a lot of the branches, shove the whole mess off the trail with my feet, then go down the slope to the next problem area.
Joanna managed to get video of one tree crashing down the mountain--but darn,
I wish I had video of the two we pushed down the mountain. It was much
steeper where our tree went down. =)
The plan, I knew, was for everyone to get down to Lemah Meadows where we'd set up camp by around 5:00 that evening. A little after 4:00, I figured I was still an hour away from camp, so it was basically time to stop working. After working non-stop for over three hours, though, I was a little tired and sat down to take a quick rest.
And that's when I noticed it was missing. Wassa Jr. I had him in the back of my pack, in a mesh pocket, with his head and arms sticking out, but he wasn't there anymore. Shoot! I knew immediately what must have happened. I was cutting those branches above my head, letting them hit me in the head and slide down my back. One of them must have hooked onto Wassa and pulled him out. Buried in all the branches, I probably couldn't see him and I kicked him off the trail along with all of the other branches. I know I didn't leave him on the trail--I always checked the trail before I left any area where I worked to make sure the trail was debris. He had to have been mixed in those those branches I kicked off the trail, and I could have lost him at any point in the previous three hours or so. ShootShootShoot!
Ranger John (sitting on the ground to the right of Gary--the guy
standing in the blue shirt) enthralls us with stories from the
area during lunch. =)
Should I go back and look for him? I definitely didn't have time to go all the way back up the trail to where we had lunch. I wouldn't get into camp until after sunset if I did that, and everyone else would probably start freaking out about why I was missing. Even if I did go all the way up, I was certain Wassa wouldn't be on the trail--he'd be off on the side, covered with branches. Finding him would not be easy unless I got really lucky. But.... I really wanted Wassa Jr. back. We'd had such good times together....
I decided I'd backtrack one full mile and search for Wassa. If I found him, great, if I didn't.... I'll make a little cross for him on the trail. There was no sense carrying my full pack back up the trail just to take it down again, so I left my pack in the trail. I also scribbled out a quick note in case anyone else tried to go back up to find me--so if they reached my pack, they knew where I was and when I planned to be back.
Without a pack on, I practically ran up the trail, only slowing down when I saw piles of freshly cut branches off the side of the trail. I would kick the branches around a bit hoping to see Wassa fall out. I particularly kept my eyes open for anything red. Wassa's red shirt should be a beacon in the sea of greenery.
After 25 minutes, when I figured I should have covered a full mile, I had failed. I looked up the trail, tempted to keep up the search, but the note I left at my pack said I'd be back at my pack by 5:00. I wouldn't even make it to camp until closer to 6:00--a full hour later than we were supposed to. No, it was time to give up the hunt and turn back.
"Goodbye, little buddy," I said to the trees. "Wherever you are, I'm gonna miss you."
The last known photo of Wassa Jr.--you can see his hand sticking out
from under the pack. It's almost like he was already planning to ditch me
and wanted to wave goodbye....
You'd think I lost a living, breathing pet, and I didn't even realize my attachment to that little toy until he was gone.
"I should have known you'd ditch me for the forests of the Pacific Northwest," I told him. "This is your home, after all."
I turned back down the trail and started down. I still kept my eyes open for him on the trek back to my pack--hoping that I somehow missed him on my way up--but I knew in my heart that he was further up the mountain than I could search and that I was now walking away from him.
That last shred of hope vanished when I finally went around a switchback and reached my pack. Wassa Jr. was gone.
My note was still with my pack--nobody had come to check up on me (at least not this far up the trail). I crumpled up the note, hefted the pack back on, and went down to camp.
At camp, everyone welcomed me back, and I broke the bad news about losing Wassa. I don't think they were quite as upset about it as I was, but they did seem genuinely sad about it. I would set up Wassa each time we worked on trees to "observe" us--he was our supervisor, or at least like to pretend that he was. Many had even taken photos of Wassa in action.
Rest in peace, little buddy.
Before Wassa Jr. jumped shipped--perhaps he was looking for more moose friends in the forests of the Pacific Northwest--he sponsored me in WTA's Hike-a-Thon. Won't you? Do it for the trails, and do it for Wassa Jr. *nodding*
This tree that had fallen overnight I decided to cutout myself....
...and not tell anyone. =) You can see where I already
started sawing on the left. (That red dot on the tree is the
Corona handsaw resting in the cut I had started.)
I woke for our second full day of work to sprinkles. Just a hint of them, but definite sprinkles, which was of some concern for me since I had failed to set up my tarp. It wasn't supposed to rain! Rather than set up my tarp, I just pulled out my tarp and threw it over me. We were planning to break camp and move up to Solo Tarn to be closer to the work, so setting up the tarp just to break it down in an hour seemed counter-productive. I just hoped it wouldn't start raining hard and crossed my fingers.
It didn't stop raining hard, though, and eventually the sprinkles stopped, and I got up. I ate breakfast (granola cereal) and packed up camp. I didn't move quickly, though. Marcella planned to bring up the rear of our group to make sure no stragglers got left behind and Larry was never far from her, so I knew Team Buzzsaw would be running later than all of the other groups.
I did go ahead without them, but I was still one of the last people to leave camp. I wandered up the trail, hiking alone, and made it just past the avalanche shoot when I saw a tree fallen across the trail. It was hard to miss: on the slope to the right, but the end stuck about chest high over the trail. We had cleared this section of trail of fallen trees already--this tree had not been here when I hiked down the day before. How utterly inconsiderate of the tree to fall down in the middle of the night.
This is totally a staged photo--I was really sawing with
both hands, but I wanted a picture of me sawing and I
needed one hand for the photo. So I'm just holding the
saw here. =) My hands were getting tired anyhow, so
they needed the break!
Most of our group had already walked past this tree, but I wasn't surprised that they didn't stop to cut it out--all of our tools were still up the mountain where we had stopped working the day before. They couldn't cut it out even if they wanted to without their tools, and I started continuing ahead then stopped in my tracks.
I actually did have tools. I wanted to cut a couple of small branches on my way back to camp the day before so I carried the Corona handsaw, my hardhat, and my gloves--possibility making me the only person who actually had all of the required equipment in order to work. I turned back around and studied the tree closer.
It was a rather large tree for a Corona--if we had a cross-cut saw, we'd probably have used that--but it did look small enough to be doable with a Corona. I walked around the fallen tree. It looked like it had been dead for quite some time and snapped off from a snag on the uphill side of the trail. The snag still stood upright. I looked in the trees above and didn't see anything remotely dangerous about the work location. With the end of the log dangling in mid-air, I knew I wouldn't have to worry about the saw binding as I cut down into the log. It was also small enough that I didn't have to worry about it rolling or falling and hurting me. All-in-all, I decided, this tree looked positively easy. I could totally do this. It was practically a setup for a one-man job.
The trail is clear! My work is done.... =)
My only concern was that the folks who run the WTA sometimes tend to be a little over-protective in terms of safety and I worried that Gary might not be happy if he knew I took out this tree by myself. On the other hand, I also knew that Marcella and Larry--along with a couple of other folks were still behind me on the trail. Even if I did miraculously somehow manage to injure myself, it would likely be just minutes before one of the others wandered along. In fact, they might even catch up with me before I finished. And I kind of liked the idea of cutting out my very own tree without any help or advice from anyone. Just one tree, all for myself. This might be the only opportunity I would get....
It also occurred to me that when the people behind me caught up with the people in front of me and started to compare notes, the folks in front would talk about that tree that had fallen overnight and the folks behind me would have no idea what they were talking about. "How could you miss it?" the folks in front would ask. "You'd have run right into it!" And the folks in back would be completely baffled at the mysterious tree that didn't block their path. And I'd be the only person who knew what really happened. =)
Or maybe they wouldn't compare notes, and when we came out the next day, the folks who saw the log would expect "one last log" to cut out near the avalanche shoot, then be baffled with it was mysteriously cut out already. Perhaps they'd blame it on tree fairies or something. Another mystery for the ages. (Or at least until they read this blog!) I rather liked the idea of doing that. But it meant I had to work quickly and finish before anyone caught me cutting the tree out.
It was here, when I started taking close-up images of my
work that Joanna walked up on me.
So I dropped my pack and donned my gloves and hardhat. At least if one of them walked up on my working by myself on this tree, they'd see I'd have the proper attire on. =)
I took a couple of before photos, pulled out the Corona saw, and started sawing. The sawing went quicker than I expected considering the size of the log, but I worked hard trying to finish before anyone walked up on me. After about ten minutes of cutting, the log started "talking"--creaking, clearly about to break at any second, then I started cutting with just the very tip of the saw in short strokes. (I don't want to get the whole blade caught up as the log crashed to the ground.) And finally, CRACK! The log broke loose and crashed to the ground. Perfect!
The log I cut out was a pretty good hunk, and I sat on the uphill side of it and pushed it off the trail with my legs in less than a minute. I was done, and nobody was none the wiser! =)
I took off my gloves and went to take a couple of "after" photos when Joanna walked up on me. Damn! So close to getting away with it!
She looked at me, with a kind of curious expression.
"Admiring your handiwork?" she asked.
"Yeah, well, something like that...."
I don't think she realized that I had just cut out that log--perhaps she thought it was a log I cut out the day before--but she certainly looked at me suspiciously. Probably because I still had a hardhat on and had taken off my pack in the trail. If I just wanted to take photos of my work, I wouldn't have had to put on the hardhat or taken off my pack.
Joanna joins my "secret tree fairy society"
and takes a photo of me posing with my "kill." =)
I figured the best way to keep this a secret was to confess the truth, so I fessed up about having just cut down the log that had fallen overnight. She offered to take photos of me with my handiwork, and I picked up the Corona to pose, then stopped and told her to wait until I get my gloves back on. If anyone saw these photos, I didn't want them to think I was working without gloves on! So I retrieved my gloves, whipped out the Corona and posed by my handiwork. Joanna promised not to tell anyone, and that the secret was safe with her. =)
I packed up my tools, put my hardhat back in my pack, and we started back up the trail.
I caught up with the rest of the folks ahead of me several miles up the trail where they stopped where we had cached the tools the night before, and I "complained" bitterly about that "inconsiderate" tree that had the indecency to fall over the trail overnight (but, of course, neglecting to mention that I had already cut it out and enjoyed every minute of it).
I waited there for the rest of Team Buzzsaw to catch up, which took a little over an hour, and we all started moseying to the top of the ridge to Solo Tarn--our destination for camp. We didn't plan to stop and cut out any of the trees along the way. Our goal was to get to the top and set up camp, and along the way we'd get a better sense of how much work was left to free the trail of fallen trees. After setting up camp, we'd work our way back downhill cutting out the blowdowns.
I started counting every tree that was blocking the trail. It didn't matter how large or small the tree was, but I counted it if it actually crossed the trail completely. A few trees poked out into the trail but didn't actually cross it, and I knew we'd have to cut those back further, but I decided not to count them. Hikers would walk past and not even realize the tree was there--these trees didn't block hikers at all, but they would block horses. So basically, I was just counting "hiker" obstacles rather than the horse obstacles. Ideally, we'd take care of both types of obstacles, but realistically, if we found ourselves running out of time, it was better to at least get hikers through. Better to block just horses than horses and hikers!
Marcella walks up towards Solo Tarn, but the snow
isn't a good sign....
Ultimately, I counted 51 fallen trees that fully blocked the trail and an unknown unknown number of trees that partially blocked the trail that would have only caused problems for horses. Combined with the estimated 30 trees our group had cut out the day before, that meant that there were a total of about 80 trees that blocked these few miles of trails, every single one having to be cut out with hand tools.
Near the top, we started seeing patches of snow, and at the top--at Solo Tarn--the terrain was blanketed in snow a couple of feet deep. Our destination for the night was completely covered in snow. Solo Tarn, our expected water source, wasn't even visible under all of the snow. We looked around on the ridge to see if we could find anywhere the snow might have melted out where we could set up camp but found nothing. The entire ridge top was covered in a solid layer of snow.
So we went to plan B: We descended back down the PCT below the snow level to a small creek crossing and "stealth camped" in a completely unofficial campsite. Obviously, our camp was anything but stealthy--with 11 people in our group on a steep hillside, that's absolutely impossible, but I use the term in the sense that there were no established sites where we camped. Everyone found relatively clear areas among the trees. I decided to set up camp directly on the PCT. I'm a big fan of Leave-No-Trace and it's pretty hard to leave a trace on a hard-packed trail. It also meant that I didn't have to clear the area of rocks, branches, pine cones, and other debris which saves a lot of effort for me. I didn't worry too much about blocking other hikers by setting up camp on the trail. With all of the snow above us, it seemed very unlikely that any hikers would be passing through. We didn't see even one the day before. And anyhow, if I was wrong and a hiker did come along, it was easy enough to get around my campsite on the trail. =)
Solo Tarn--yeah, definitely a problem with
setting up camp here! (Note the two figures
in the foreground--they're both carrying
cross-cut saws.) That depression
near the right is Solo Tarn was supposed to
be our water source for the camp.
As as we arrived, the sky started spitting out a few raindrops. Just the lightest of sprinkles, but the clouds looked mean and we started hearing thunder bouncing around the mountains. We didn't see any lightning, but it was probably just as well we couldn't camp on top of the ridge. It probably wouldn't have been the safest location during a thunderstorm.
Worried that the rain might let loose completely, I did set up my tarp in the trail this time and threw all of my gear under it. Then we stopped for lunch.
Marcella complained a little that we were already eating lunch and "hadn't cut out a single tree yet."
"Don't worry," I told her, "I did cut out one tree. Team Buzzsaw has one tree to its name today."
I didn't elaborate, though, and didn't tell her I cut out the tree without any help from someone else. =)
With lunch done, we headed out to finally do some real work for the day.
At this point, we were well into an old burn area. This whole area had burned in 1994 in the Waptus Fire, and every year, the dead trees would fall over on the steep slopes blocking the trail. This was the same area I logged out fallen trees back in 2007, and it's a wonderful place to work. Because there are few live trees around, the views are absolutely stunning. And due to the steep slope and lack of trees, log that are pushed off the trail often times go careening hundreds of feet down the slope turning potential energy into kinetic energy and crashing through the brush, logs and trees with a terrific noise. It's quite satisfying to watch.
Larry scouts for campsites above Solo Tarn,
but all he finds are fantastic views and
a heck of a lot of snow. It's mid-July for crying
out loud!
Ultimately, Team Buzzsaw cut out five more trees that afternoon. (Four full-sized trees, and two "half-trees.") Two of them turned out to be real crashers and a joy to watch careening down the slopes. Unfortunately, neither of them I managed to get on video since I was either the one who pushed them, or I didn't think they'd go very far so I didn't bother to film it. I did film one tree that I thought would likely be a "crasher" but it turned out to be a dud. (But it is amusing to watch our disappointment at the tree not moving as enthusiastically as we had hoped.)
At the end of the day, we walked back to camp about five minutes away. Nobody else was counting the number of trees they cut, but there were 12 trees above our campsite--every one of which our group got cut out. And I wasn't sure how many below our campsite had been logged out, but if it was comparable, that would have made 24 trees for the day--about half of the 51 trees I counted that were blocking the trail--and that was after we spent the whole morning just hiking up to our new campsite. Yep, I thought, we can definitely get this cleared up by the end of day tomorrow. *nodding*
Please, if you haven't done it already, consider sponsoring me for the WTA's Hike-a-Thon. Your contributions go towards trail maintenance projects like this one! Even if you can only contribute five or ten bucks, every little bit helps! Thanks!
Marcella watches downslope along the switchbacks for hikers to make
sure the coast is clear before we push another large log down the mountainside.
I set up my tarp directly on the PCT. Although it's kind of hard to see the PCT
in this photo. Behind the tarp, the snow buries the trail, but you can see a bit
of it in front of the tarp.
Marcella relaxes on the trail.
The others threw this rope over a tree leaning over the trail to hang their
food from during the night. I thought it looked a bit cool, though, and
went back to take a photo from this unusual angle. =)
Larry pushes a log off the trail, but it turns out not
to be the spectacular crasher we were hoping for....
Our group sitting around chatting after dinner. You can see me and my tarp
set up in the background. =)
This is a wonderful photo that Joanna took showing a lot
of the damage the trail takes from falling trees each year.
Larry took this photo of me cutting out this log with a cross-cut saw. =)
Marcella is ready to take over when I get tired of sawing.
Marcella and I cutting out another log. What a fantastic place to work!
Just look at that view! =)
Last week, I took Amanda backpacking. She's pestered me for years to take her backpacking, but she sets high expectations. She wants a flat trail. And beautiful scenery. And "not too far." Then she scoffs when I suggest the Alki Beach Trail. Sheesh!
As it turns out, I needed a ride to the Alpine Lakes Wilderness just east of Seattle since I planned to go on a Backcountry Response Trip (BCRT) with the Washington Trails Association (WTA). Rumor had it that dozens of logs had thoughtlessly fallen across the trail blocking horses, thru-hikers, and other backpackers along the PCT. And as it turns out, I was already familiar with this area, and I knew that from the trailhead to Pete Lake was--for a backcountry trail in the Cascade Mountains--surprisingly flat. And the view from Pete Lake was pretty darned sweet. And surely Amanda wouldn't have any complaints about a backpacking trip here, right? Especially if she brought large quantities of wine. =)
So off we headed to Pete Lake. We stopped in North Bend for lunch and picked up important gear like cheese and salami which I forgot to pack in Seattle. (Fun fact: The cheese and salami that I did originally buy for the trip are still sitting in the refrigerator.)
Amanda's not a big fan of driving on dirt roads, so I think she was happily surprised to learn that the trailhead only required a mile or so of unpaved roads to reach. Even the unpaved portion was very well graded without any washboards to make the ride unpleasant.
A few cars were already parked at the trailhead, and I hoped most of them were just day hikers or fisherman so we'd have Pete Lake to ourselves during the night. On weekends, that place is a certifiable zoo with the parking lot overflowing with cars. On weekdays--not so bad.
Amanda wanted to bring a tent, something I felt wasn't necessary, but since I had already loaded my pack up with close to a week's worth of food and carried a heavy bear canister, she was tasked with carrying the "lightweight" backpacking tent. (The terms "lightweight" and "backpacking tent" should never go in the same sentence together.) I strapped it to the back of her pack--my old pack that I used to thru-hike the Florida Trail, and we tried our packs out on a handy little scale Amanda bought as a birthday or Christmas present (I don't really remember which) for me a couple of years before. It's actually meant to weigh one's bag for flying purposes, as the packaging claimed, but I used it to weigh my packs and know how much weight I carried.
Amanda is not enjoying the weight on her back!
My pack came out to 42 pounds--on the high side of things, but most of the time, I wasn't carrying a 3-pound bear canister, a week of food, and four liters of water. The amount of water I carried really was ridiculous--this trail had plenty of water for the grabbing along the way. I just didn't want to stop and refill the water. I took the bear canister since I intended to leave my food unattended all day long as I did trail work and didn't want squirrels and other critters getting into my food. If it kept out bears as well, that's good to, but frankly, I worried more about smaller animals. Seeing a bear is pretty unusual in the wilderness.
This would also be a good time for me to test my new pack. Mostly purple (I do like that color), with a bright "don't shoot me, I'm a hiker!" orange top, and a silver racing stripe that made me look cool, it was another one of my homemade contraptions and, until now, was completely untested. =)
Amanda's pack weighed in at a hefty 30 pounds--the maximum weight that the pack was designed to hold. The tent made up a significant portion of the weight, but she was determined to bring it along in case the bugs were bad--not an unrealistic expectation.
I filled out the paperwork at the self-permit station as Amanda headed down the trail. "I'll catch up," I told her.
I did catch up, perhaps a hundred feet down the trail, which Amanda was bitterly complaining about the weight of her pack. I felt bad, but my pack was already filled to capacity and I wasn't sure what I could do to help. So she plodded along slowly, which was okay by me. We weren't in any rush. By my estimate, we had over seven hours until dark to cover just four miles. Amanda could certainly take as much time as she needed.
Amanda fords a creek.
After a good half hour or so and several rests, she loosened the shoulder straps and immediately felt better. Just by looking at her, I didn't realize she had tightened her shoulder straps so much, but once she figured out that they shouldn't be so tight, she practically zoomed down the trail. Not skipping, perhaps, but the number of rest stops decreased dramatically and her top hiking speed doubled. Wow--what a difference!
I think she started having more fun at this point.
With her large pack and inexperience carrying such heavy loads, she decided to ford a couple of the streams that a more sure-footed person might have crossed using fallen logs. I do believe those were her first deliberate stream fords, and she took to them like a fish in water. (On an unrelated note, we didn't actually see any fish in the water.)
Late in the afternoon, we finally arrived at the scenic Pete Lake with beautiful, snow-covered mountains as a backdrop. In the late afternoon, those snow-covered mountains are kind of washed out. The light really isn't ideal and it's definitely a much better view early in the morning.
We were also a little disheartened to discover a camp of 20 or so Boy Scouts already set up there. I was a little angry at them since I knew the maximum group size in this area was 12 and the Boy Scouts clearly and deliberately violated that rule. Aren't they supposed to be teaching kids to respect the wilderness and follow the rules?
I scouted up the trail a bit further looking for a campsite away from the scouts and found a nice one overlooking the lake. I went back and retrieved Amanda and we set up camp.
Amanda seems to be enjoying herself more since she
figured out her shoulder straps were too tight.
Immediately, we started setting up the tent. I pulled out all of the poles and started snapping them together, but the cords that were supposed to provide tension and keep them all together seemed unusually slack. Like they had rotted and no longer had any elasticity to them. How bizarre.....
This did not go over well with Amanda. No, not at all. She lugged that tent miles into the backcountry, and by golly, she didn't want her efforts to be in vain. But clearly, there was nothing we could do to fix the problem at this point. The tent was a bust.
"But you can become one with nature!" I assured her. "You won't feel claustrophobic in a tiny little tent!"
It didn't really help matters, though. In fact, it might have annoyed her even further.
What did help, however, was the small, plastic bottle of wine she carried. Nothing like a little alcohol to sooth the nerves. =)
Amanda also started a small campfire in a nearby fire right which she seemed to enjoy. Amanda has a real knack for starting campfires. I can't seem to get them started even when I have a large bottle of denatured alcohol and dry wood at my disposal, but Amanda's the MacGuyver of starting camp fires. Which is kind of ironic since she's more than little nervous handling lighters, afraid she'll burn herself with them.
With her wine in hand, now Amanda's truly a happy camper! =)
I worked on dinner, and Amanda said that she enjoyed watching me in my "natural element." I imagined the narrator from a wildlife documentary describing my actions in a whisper: "Now the hiker is cooking dinner with an ingenious little soda can stove. It appears that he's pouring what they call denatured alcohol into the stove, but he appears to be having some trouble with his lighter. Wait! There it goes! He got it going!"
Bugs did bother us all evening, but I didn't consider them to be especially bad. I've suffered through much worse, but to listen to Amanda, you'd think we'd been attacked by biblical plagues the likes the world has never seen. Shortly after sunset, the bugs finally went away for the night and we slept in peace.
The next morning, we woke up bright and early. I did so out of necessity, planning to hike back to the trailhead to meet up with the rest of the members of the WTA work party, check in, and carry any back any tools I would need. I left most of my stuff in camp--especially the heavy bear canister stuffed with food. No sense carrying that all the way to the trailhead just to carry it back to Pete Lake a few hours later! Amanda left early only because I did. I guess Pete Lake without me just isn't the same. =)
Amanda enjoys her campfire.
Without the week of food weighing down my pack, I took the tent for Amanda and bounded down the trail without her. Even with the tent, my pack was considerably lighter than on the trip out. I hustled to the trailhead where a couple of WTA members had already arrived. Amanda made it back out 40 minutes after I did but before we had started the hike back to Pete Lake.
Amanda drove off, having to fly to work later that evening. And I hiked back up the trail after adding a small Corona saw and a grub hoe to my gear.
But I'll save that story for my next post.....
In the meantime, it's that time of year again for WTA's annual Hike-a-Thon! You'll see some of the work that the WTA does to help preserve and maintain Washington's hiking trails and scenic places in my next post, but they're a wonderful organization to work with and support. So please consider sponsoring me. This year, I'll spend much of August thru-hiking El Camino de Santiago through Europe and I intend to bribe anyone who donates at least $5 with a postcard from somewhere along my hike. =)
I read my Kindle--my new little backpacking toy for when I'm hiking through
Europe. (Would you believe it--they don't have a lot of English language books
in France, Spain OR Portugal!)
