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Like so many alpine meadows, Snowgrass Flats is a beautiful landscape. When Mt. St. Helens erupted these western slopes of the Goat Rocks were more heavily blanketed with ash than anywhere else, save the volcano itself. Now the wildflowers are beginning to rally, pushing through the beds of pumice that cover the meadows.

The Flats are available via the Berrypatch trailhead near Chambers Lake, 16 miles up an access road just 2 miles west of Packwood, WA, signed “Walupt Lake” and “Chambers Lake”. They make an excellent camping spot, but for full appreciation of the area from the Flats you should continue on to Goat Lake (which is also accessible via the Goat Ridge Trail), or if you’re really feeling ambitious, the Goat Rocks Crest.

This trail is part of the Klickitat Trail system used by Native Americans traveling over Cispus Pass to the Klickitat River drainage. Snowgrass Flats is a 10-plus acre subalpine meadow in a bowl near the headwaters of Snowgrass Creek. The area was named for a type of plant that stockmen called snowgrass. — fs.fed.us

This will be good. I’ll see you in a week.

Goat Lake lies right beneath the Goat Rocks Crest, accessible via the Snowgrass Flat or Goat Ridge trails. What a gorgeous, frigid snow fed lake it is, but sadly I didn’t take a single photo that did it justice.

This is Goat Lake’s egress, a 30 foot waterfall that continues on towards a huge nearly vertical 200+ foot falls that tumble down into the valley below. The bigger falls are stunning, but because of the cliffs there isn’t a way to shoot them without approaching from the valley floor or hiking out at least a mile along the valley ridge for an angle.

On Saturday Laura and I hiked along a bit of the PCT toward Sourdough Gap, stopping by Sheep Lake to soak up the scenery.

As we approached, I said, “Look, there are a few elk on the far side of the….lake…” I trailed off…confused by the bizarrely malshapen “elk” tethered to the meadow.

Sadly, this llama isn’t a free-ranger, but a beast of burden. Apparently pack horses or mules are far too unoriginal for the Pacific Northwest, so long live the Washington high mountain llama?

We stopped by Bertha May Lake on the way to Granite Lake last weekend, venturing out Teeley Creek Trail #251. Stunning weather, stunning colors. This is a shot at Bertha May Lake on the way to Granite. When we arrived at Granite Lake we fished, swam, and had an extremely leisurely lunch. (Just a tiny bit different scenery than the day before.)

It’s an extremely short hike in toward these lakes and a very short drive from Packwood— there aren’t a lot of better ways to spend a hot and sunny day in the South Cascades.

Actually it looks much colder than it was; it was a beautiful day on the mountain. Shot on Saturday near Skyline trail with Rich, Stacie, and Laura.

Snapped on a hike this last weekend to Glacier Lake, just south of Walupt Lake. I wish I had packed in the tripod to get the shutter speed down below 1/15th. As it was I handheld and got as much blur in the water as I possibly could. The tripod would’ve really made this picture pop, but as it is its still hard to beat a good mountain stream shot eh?

Laura and I made an impromptu trip up to Deception Pass on Saturday. The park has miles of beaches and trails surrounding the channel.

Above is a shot of the bridge’s shadows on the cliffs, below is a boat running up the channel separating Fidalgo and Whidbey, and finally is a wide-angle of the (extremely scary) three foot pedestrian walkway—between the 180 foot drop and cars whizzing by at 40 miles per hour. You have to earn your snapshots there.

• Wikipedia: Deception Pass Bridge

The Ellensburg Canyon is a gorgeous stretch cut by the Yakima River running between Yakima and Ellensburg; it was the main route between the two cities before the freeway blazed a trough through Manashtash and Umtanum Ridges a few miles to the east. The Canyon is popular for scenic drives, fishing, hiking and rafting but is still relatively obscure and little used compared to many similar resources closer to population centers.

Yesterday on my trip back to Seattle I stopped off in the canyon to hike from Umtanum Creek Recreation site into the Wenas Wildlife Area and get views of Umtanum Creek and the Yakima River from the ridges above. It was a short and steep hike up about 1200 feet; near the top I startled a herd of about 50 rocky mountain elk and snapped a few pictures before failing light forced me to return to the road. I’m sure I’ll return soon when the wildflowers are out in force for some longer hikes; it’s gorgeous out there—highly recommended.

You can find out a bit more about the area from this Seattle PI article, or the Washington Department of Fish and Wildlife pages.

A huge log crossing one end of Backbone Lake. For a short jaunt on Saturday we hiked up to the lake, around it, and around another mile or so up Backbone Ridge:

This trail is well documented as having been used by the Taidnapam people as they traveled up Mt. Rainier from the Cowlitz Valley. It was mainly used by mountain goat hunters. Goats are often spotted on Backbone Ridge.

(Tha’ts a dime in the photo—you’d better watch yourself up there FDR or you’ll be next.)

Yesterday morning I glanced in the mirror before hopping in the shower and spotted what I thought was a dark scab in the middle of my back. Pre-shower and pre-coffee I don’t have much mental alacrity—so instead instincts took over—I ripped it off.

At the instant my hand made contact with this little black thing on my back three things became clear:

1. It wasn’t a scab. There was no reason for me to have a scab there. It was something—attached
2. I had better rip it off and be damn quick about it
3. I’ll probably need to take pictures of it—whatever it is

Being amidst my usual morning cognitive impairment I had no thought that my unwelcome accouterment might be a tick—I probably would not have been quite so hasty in my “decision making” if I had been a little more awake—regardless I soon heard a noticeable, nay shockingly audible, POP sound as the tick was dislodged from my skin.

I watched it wiggle for a bit on my bathroom counter, and popped it in a glass for later photographic documentation.

Apologies to Eddie Money: I’ve Got One Tick—It’s From Paradise

Rarely have I had such an experience that was both completely revolting and completely fascinating. In the shower I began to ponder the hike were I must have picked up the little sucker, and how I was trouncing around the forest craning for a decent shot at a waterfall. (I had clearly earned this wee vampiristic beastie.)

Further into my lather, I began to put the whole weekend in perspective and think of one of my earlier hikes in Mt. Rainier National Park. Paradise, although inaccessible this time of the year is one of the Park’s most popular destinations…how the mind wanders. Then it hit me. I had the makings for a fabulous Eddie Money rip-off right there in the shower:

I’ve Got One Tick It’s From Paradise

Got a surprise especially for you,
Something that both of us have always wanted to do.
We’ve waited so long, waited so long.
We’ve waited so long, waited so long.

I’m gonna take you on a trip so far from here,
I’ve got one tick in my pocket, now baby, we’re gonna disappear.
We’ve waited so long, waited so long.
We’ve waited so long, waited so long.

I’ve got one tick it’s from Paradise,
Won’t you pack your bags, we’ll leave tonight,
I’ve got one tick it’s from Paradise,
I’ve got one tick it’s from Paradise.

oh-oh-uh-oh-uh-oh-uh-oh-uh-oh-uh-oh
oh-oh-uh-oh-uh-oh-uh-oh-uh-oh-uh-oh

So the tick wasn’t exactly from Paradise, but that’s just details man, this is music.

The Tick in Black Starring in: Walk The Lyme

When I think ticks I think Lyme disease, but not to worry, I’m watching my very small wound shrink by the hour, and I have heard from several credible sources that Lyme disease is fairly uncommon in the Pacific Northwest.

So there you have it, my brief encounter with a tick, and Eddie Money to boot—what more could you ask for dear reader?

Silver Falls Loop is a short but gorgeous hike beginning at Ohanapecosh campground just inside Mt. Rainier National Park. It skirts a few natural hot springs on the way toward a great view of Silver Falls, and offers a pretty darn cool view of the gorge the waterfall creates via a short footbridge.

Silver Falls is always a nice payoff for such a short and lovely walk, but in March the big gates of Mt. Rainier are closed, so on Friday Andrea, Matthew, Laura, and I hiked in the extra mile to the campground from the closed gates and trudged our way through a good deal of snow to soak up the views. Besides the river and falls we also saw a few mountain goats on our way back out to the car. (Sorry the goats were too far away for pics.)

Naturally I cursed him, squashed his guts out, and left him to wallow in the briny muck at the bottom of my kayak. (Though on this occasion I was a completely innocent party, I have been stung by many a hornet and bee in the past, and I admit for the most part completely deserved their aggression.)

I do have the great fortune of not being allergic to bee stings, so one could imagine my confusion the following morning in the tent when I woke up and noticed my entire left calf strikingly swollen, hot to the touch, and moderately painful.

I tried not to pay it too much attention, and soon after breaking camp and packing up the kayak I was in the car heading back to Seattle. It was at that point I realized just how large my calf had become. Not just swollen…friggin’ huge. Scary big. It looked like someone duplicated my thigh and stuck it above my ankle, or took the bone out of a spiral ham and wrapped its juicy goodness around my tibia. You can take your pick of imagery, but suffice it to say it wasn’t a pretty sight.

NO. I didn’t take a picture of it you sickos, so don’t ask.

Upon the recommendation of persons wiser than myself as soon as I was back home I took some Benadryl, elevated and iced my ballooning appendage. It felt better, but I still had Popeye’s post-spinach forearm for a lower leg. (Sans anchor tattoo of course.)

Monday the swelling started to gradually subside. Late in the day I noticed something I hadn’t before, 3 small pricks in the central part of my calf, directly around the most sensitive (and now lightly bruised) portion of the swelling. AH HA! This wasn’t about the hornet at all! A clever ruse! Mother nature you dog! Smoke and mirrors!

I’m guessing the bites happened Saturday night in the tent, but it could have been in the kayak on the way to the island or in hiking around it as well. Aside from the swollen leg I had no other symptoms that I know of.

Being a huge Larson fan, I’ve always been dying to cry out, preferably in a darkened theater, “Is there an Entomologist in the house?” But only slightly more seriously, my question to you all is, “What the heck bit me?” Spider? Tick? Tsetse fly? Laura? Any guesses?