In early May, a dark overcast sky held the earth in shadow. These doldrums are great for working outside, but sometimes have that seasonal affect on the psyche. Any Western Washington inhabitant of several years takes the need for occasional sun and some serious D3 supplement in winter. There are clever ways to find sun in our area, and one of the easiest for me is driving about an hour up. The climb is a joy, heading along the valley river, then the first great step up at the rim of an ice age lake. The great Snoqualmie Falls plummets over a horseshoe drop carved out by tumults of melting ice water from glaciers as the atmosphere warmed. Above this precipice, I catch my first glimpse of the tectonic uplift of The Central Cascades. This is the ridgeline I love ascending to, dipping just over the back side, where peaks and lakes form a legacy of dynamic landscape full of biodiversity and adventure.
On this particular journey into the wilds, I had an intention to get above the clouds for some brought sunshine and an attempt to walk to the edge of the snow line. Without proper snow gear, I was not excited to summit anything or boldly go up steep incline. A few scenic back roads and switchbacks carried me up the steep terrain divided by alpine lakes and plantation forest plunder. Always a reminder to a point, the tree farm grants incredible private access, but remains an ecological waste land across most of its breadth. I’m a consumer of paper products, and I’ve seen recent new build on incredible scale with laminated timbers in tribal buildings near by in The Snoqualmie Casino. Wood products are much more ecologically sound- composting back to soil, or so the industry wants you to think. What about all the chemicals pumped into wood products? Oriented Strand Board (OSB) does not safely decompose into organic soil folks, and there are countless products of this stuff, common in most modern building.
That’s why the trees are cut, and will keep being harvested in these plantations. There are some beautiful stream buffer corridors along this part of the drive, but I really prefer not to get too attached, because major cuttings continue along all these groves. Still, in my lifetime I will have the chance to see some of these replanted section grow to sizable trees- or perhaps not. Wildfire could sweep through too. Such impermanence, even in forests. I can still drive on a little bit further, folding back into the evergreen patchwork to yet another forest, a place that has limited protections on it, no commercial cutting any more, but that legacy persists, and the promise of letting this place return fully to wilderness cannot be promised, for DNR land, though labeled “public” remains a place where logging operations can continue. In many places, they do. Hopefully, this elevation, combined with the fact that there’s not much timber feet of usable product available. This alpine habitat stunts the growth of many trees, and the older girth Douglas firs have their tops broken off by wind and ice, so the industry keeps their hands off, for now.
I’d like to say my hikes into these wild places are without a care in the world. A chance to escape the goings on down below in the valley. As all the landscapes are deeply connected together, so too are the thoughts and wonder that traverse the temples of my mind. I’ve got to take up meditation. And so this exploration allows a bit of focus, steps leading towards more quiet wilderness, the hum of insects, trickling beads of melting ice, crunching snow underfoot. I take my first steps into the snow line, it’s only another half a mile in, along the north side of a peak I’ve crested in the past, enough shadow remains to protect the frozen layers for just a few more weeks. Drifts build here, sheltered in a growth of native forest and rocky scree. The seeps hold sediment, washed down from the rocks and trees above. Plant life takes on the hillside with gusto. I’ve never seen some of these flowers before, spring is so fleeting in the highlands. I celibate the flowering saxifrage, slider alder and willow catkins, and fleeting tracks, melting away at the edges of the trail.
This place can calm the soul, even as I witness less snow pack and greater fire risk all around. My mind has to compartmentalize, keep the good vibes flowing along these mountain springs, which feed blue lakes below. Winter’s grip broke a few weeks ago, and all the lush life of this alpine wilderness awakens, all at once. I am awed by the warm light, and take off my jacket, stripping down to a t-shit, the weather will soon melt off the last of this snow, and I can again swim in the lakes in my wet suit. There are Pacific salamanders here, and all kinds of other magical amphibians. Delicate indicators that say the water is still safe to swim in, at this elevation. I begin post holing in the snow, coming to the far end of the three lakes, I turn and head back, my socks soaked, melting snow wicking down into my thin leather shoes. The tread is getting thin, not a place to scamper around on wet rocks in old souls.
As Valley and I enjoyed the last of winter sport, we came across some of the usual suspects on spring snow melt- fleas. No, not the kind you and your dog need to worry about- these are snow fleas, and boy are they fun to observe. These active little critters are a source of food for many animals. A naturalist in Vermont once taught me that black bears coming out of hibernation survived off the little fleas if the plants weren’t leafing out yet. I’ve sampled a few, and they taste peppery. I think I could spend a few hours gorging on these tiny treats if I was starving like a bear, but today, they were not on the menu, so I pressed on back towards the trail head, feeling the wet socks beginning to soak in. Wet feet in the snow is not ideal, and even after I was through the drifts, I still had a lot of wetlands to cross through before getting back to dry trail. My mind was partially on personal safety, I would have many hours of daylight left, but I had not packed an extra pair of dry socks in the truck, so my feet would be waterlogged for a bit longer on the drive home.
Self-care is a great place to let your mind wander when you’re in the back country. It’s another way to take your mind off the regular grind of life. I say grind because we’re all carrying more environmental stress than ever. How we let it burden us should be a personal choice, but grinding takes its toll. I’m feeling my eyes getting tired as I type on this screen, but I’ll power on through to finish my thoughts on this day hike and the nature I encountered. It’s important for me to log my experience, and share the real time rhythms of the wilderness we’re all just on the edge of, even if it’s only the wilderness of our minds. Perhaps that’s where we go when me meditate- I’ll use that as a questing tool. Questing for meditation, someone laughed at that. Maybe I’m laughing at myself. Always taking the world so seriously. More time slipping on the melting snow up here in the peaks might loosen me up a bit more. Would it be like Nero fiddling while Roam burned? At least I’m not riding an e-bike.
EEC Forest Stewardship 