We’ll, another afternoon up in the peaks and I didn’t pack my snowshoes. The hike didn’t start in this snow drift, but I had planned on snow as I ascended on my journey into The Alpine Lakes Wilderness. About a decade ago, I drove up to this point with my mentor, but it’s grown in quite a bit, and some more recent edge collapses along the ledge make the road a trail from now on. I’m happy about that, because it means nature will come back into her own a bit, and the land can slowly heal. I’d like to spend more time getting to know this area, and so, on a sunny afternoon, I hiked up into the clouds. It’s not something intuitive for most- warm sunny day in the valley, clouds banking in up above in the mountains, most people would spend the sunny day below, but I was craving the last of winter’s fading glory, and so, I took another quest to the snow line, and then beyond.
Acres of plantation forest fly by as I take each switchback methodically, at some turns, the trees open up to reveal Snoqualmie Valley below. Both the upper and lower expanses are visible from this ridge-line, though today, I was at the northern side of the property, so I had a glimpse of my own home ridges and hillsides far below. Some of the angles between peaks can be a little disorienting. At one point, I had hiked a ways in and turned to see the clouds lift, revealing scars on the slope. This part of the tree farm hosts a recent burn. The ridge went up in October, 2022 during The Lock Katrine fire, which was started by people. Here, the fire damage was up close, and I wondered at what had survived. The ecology of this region is built on sudden change, from landslides, earthquakes, volcanoes, lahars, glaciers, flooding, and general tectonic activity throughout the west coast as a whole. The Ring of Fire is an epic place to call home.
Wildfires are one of the more common and devastating seasons here in The Pacific Northwest. 2022 was a particularly hard year, with fires catching close to home in two areas to our east. The Bolt Creek Fire was another frightening blaze that had burned for months along a major highway, threatening many towns. The Loch Katrine Fire was in an unpopulated area, and was allowed to burn a more natural course with rains in the forecast. It did go on for a few weeks, and was a smoke menace to several parts of our valley, but the blaze ended in late October, and the start of the wet season smothered our fears of flame. The scars are still quite visible along the slopes, but nature will return to her own once more, and the plantation mono-culture has replanted for future timber sales. Not all the stands of forest are lost in these burns, but a lot more stand green in the wilderness, compared to the tree farm monoculture. Wild forests keep their biomass through the centuries, and build up a sponge of material at their base which holds rain and banks it in the soil, even on slopes. This creates resiliency to fire throughout the forest, and more stands survive to reseed a new forest after the burn. Much of the ground cover still has its roots, as the soil dampness prevents hot burning fires that scald the topsoil. I’ll have to plan a day to hike over there to compare the recovery.
The picture above is a burn scar across a ridge line in The Alpine Lake Wilderness. Below is a map of the fire, and that second red patch on the right is where this burn happened. I was standing on the ridge line to the left of DIV N on the map, on the other side of Lake Phillippa. From that vantage point, I could look all the way through the valley there, in the draw from the lake down to the North Fork of The Snoqualmie River. I had started my hike from roughly where the DIV T type is on the map below. The extent of the fire had taken me some time to fully comprehend, as I’ve only been able to see the left hand part of the burn from the roads I’d approached form in the tree farm. Now I was getting a broader picture, but the clouds continued to veil the full extend of the fire’s wrath while I was in the snow.
I love being “lost” in the clouds high above. There are moment without and site beyond the trail and a few trees. I use my OnX ap to assist with directions to make sure I don’t take a wrong turn. There are a lot of logging roads up here, and any one of them could take me for miles across the mountains. I enjoyed walking the 4 miles round trip along this elevation, and had a few moments of blissful dream like surroundings in the swirling clouds. In one of the saddles, wind carried white gossamer over the treetops, arching back down the other side of rocky impediment and down towards the valley below. I could occasionally spot sun in the patches of farms and clear cuts below. My sunglasses came on and off a lot on that hike, as the snow became blinding white when the sun broke through the clouds. I wanted to reach out and catch the mists by the tail for a moment. The elemental change continued, but no rain would fall. These clouds were banking up along The Cascade Mountains, and would slowly break up as the day wore on. I was glad to get a little cloud cover while hiking. It kept me comfortable in my climb, and a light breeze was welcome on the decent back to the truck.
If you listen carefully in this video, you’ll hear the varied thrushes calling from the forest. These birds are in their mating season, and sound off like magical whistles throughout the woods. It’s great to catch the timing of these delightful birds as their song echos across mountain tops. I find such sounds so relaxing. I found myself walking through the slick snow in meditation, each step carefully placed away from the steep edge of the trail. At one point I was weaving through a willow patch that was slowly overtaking the path. In a few more years, it might be good to come back and cut the branches back a bit. Trail maintenance is always needed in these transition zones along the edges to keep access open. But if it does grow back in, that might be best for the environment beyond. Though there are not a large number of people coming up here through the tree farm, wilderness sometimes needs a break from human intrusion, and I’m glad keep visits to this beautiful place minimal.
As I descend back to the lower hills, the snow melts away again, and young ground covers bloom out of the damp soil left behind. I was enjoying the time travel, back to early spring. In the valley far below, plants were fully leafed out and far past blossoming. Up here at elevation, many plants were just popping up from the ground. Catkins hung on leafless shrubs, and a few flowers were out with the sun. Melting snow dripped down the rocky cliffs trimmed in velvet green mosses. The gravel on the trail spoke of shallow seas, muddy marine clay, and volcanic basalt. The tectonic uplift that brought this ocean floor into the sky are still moving and churning the layers of crust which float atop the liquid mantel of our planet. I’m always looking for these legacy reminders of a mountain’s makeup. At a bend along the trail, I came across a huge blue boulder protruding from the slope, it rested on what looked like a gray clay layer in the rock. I’ll be scouting that again once the snow is fully melted. The chance to find a natural clay bed would be exciting indeed.
By the time I got back to the truck, a different bird call was echoing through the hills. Grouse are also enjoying the spring mating season. The males find a prominent place with good acoustics in the woods, and beat out their rhythm of love in a deep humming drone. When I first heard them on The East Coast, I though someone was trying to start a generator. That’s my best description of this noise in the woods each spring. We don’t hear it where I am in the valley, though there are rough grouse in the woods nearby. You need enough continually forested habitat to host these wild birds. I think their numbers continue to slowly decline, though our Fish and Wildlife Department seems to think it’s just less people hunting them– that seems to be their reasoning, rather than the continued loss of habitat and more people pushing further into the forests on e-bikes. I look at the east coast bird counts as a reference, because if it’s happening over there, it’s certainly happening here too. I’ve seen some birds, but not a lot on my adventures in these woodlands- especially during hunting season. Maybe they are getting the memo on when to get the heck out of here once the guns start going off in September.
I found one hit by a vehicle along the road on my way up this morning. I moved the hen off the road and into the woods to give her a little bit of peace. Trucks carrying the logs out don’t stop for anything if they can. help it- they’re on a strict schedule- time is money. One little bird or a whole load of fresh wood products to be sold? Just buy your upland game bird tag and shut up about it. There are plenty of grouse in those woods for you to harvest, be grateful you have access. The tree farm may not be public lands, but it’s connected to them, in a patchwork of degraded habitat that’s pushing out wildlife and welcoming treated sewage, herbicides, and moncrop plantations of Douglas Fir. I’ve been recreating in this vast commercial timber property for almost 15 years, and there is a noticeable decline in deer here too. Seems the animals don’t like all the chemicals being spread across the clear cuts. However, I don’t have scientific data to back it up, so take my opinion as just that. I guess one could also say, it’s my experience in these woods.
As soon as set foot in the wilderness, there was a noticeable uptick in species diversity. There is also no legacy of chemical controls in this soil, so the understory indicators like oval leaf blueberry return, along with a great adaptive pioneer plant, fire weed. Both provide edible food, and play important roles in pollination, as well as larders for wildlife. False Hellebore, a sensitive wetland plant, also makes an appearance along the old road. There were also fungal friends along the way, with some orange witches butter blooming on a rotting stick. All these lovely plants vanish once I’m back in plantation land, where chemical spraying along the roads to keep them clear makes all the native edge plants disappear. Keep an eye out for this in areas you might want to harvest plants. I even came across an old spray flyer by a recent clearcut further down the slope. These markers are good reminders of the industrial legacy we’re leaving in our neighboring forests. The chemicals get into our water systems, ending up in the rivers of our valley. It’s also going to start showing up in our drinking water eventually. The natural world is a closed circuit, with no understanding on where the spray lines are drawn on maps or from satellite imagery. But don’t worry, you can safely re-enter the spray areas within 48hrs. I hope the wildlife can read this and feel better too.
This journey was about reaching the snow line and exploring an old trail into The Apline Lakes Wilderness, which I thoroughly enjoyed. I got out of the bright sun and into magical cloud cover, saw a larger swath of fire burn scars, identified a lot of good native plants, and got some good movement in for me and my pup Val. She was joyful in the snow, and together we had a great morning adventure in The Central Cascades. Gratitude for this access to wilderness, and the continued observation of industrial harvesting in forest plantations to understand a small part of the consumerism I participate in daily. Thanks to all the wildlife that showed its self in track, song, and even the dead grouse on the side of the road. I was able to observe a healthy hen and better acquaint myself with her markings, size, and habitat. She reminded me of the impermanence of this life, and to appreciate each day as it comes. Thank you to this ecology, and it’s resistance to human control and devastation. Our careless handling has evolved towards conservation, and the wilderness should be safe for many generations to come. Or so we hope.
EEC Forest Stewardship 