Many of life's lessons must, unfortunately, be relearned.
It was several days before we hit the Devil's Ridge trail deep in the Pasayten Wilderness that we knew our food was low. The scenery, the terrain, and the weather had all conspired against us. We had spent extra days in locations too spectacular to linger only briefly. That splendor derived, at least partially, from the grueling elevation changes we encountered daily. And it was September in the North Cascades – when not spitting on us, the clouds loomed forebodingly, the wind howled, and the elevation warned of snow.
We carefully estimated calories, allotting similar amounts for each of the meals remaining before we would arrive back in “civilization”. We planned aggressive hiking days over Tatoosh Buttes, Sky Pilot Pass, and Devil's Dome. At the same time we talked of caution on the trail, for accidents and injuries happen when low blood sugar leads to poor judgment. Our independent, stubborn personalities would be a problem. When only one of us wanted to push forward an extra mile or two, frustration mounted.
Our final meal consisted of a few handfuls of dried carrots and celery floating in thin vegetable broth. Not a very satisfying supper after hiking a dozen miles with a pack in fall weather. Your body needs calories to burn to keep you warm while the rain on the tent keeps you awake. Carrots don't have much fat and celery is pretty lean in the protein department.
That was the only time we ran out of food on the entire PNT. While we had been continuously burning more calories than we ingested, this was the only time when hunger could find no relief – the food bags were bare.
When we look back on that week in the high country we are reminded of how profoundly it affected our abilities. Cold fingers take longer to set up camp. Cooperation becomes an effort rather than second nature. Perception distance shortens. No one chooses to live like that.
Yet families in your own community look at the calendar every month and must start rationing food. Sacrifices are made until payday arrives. Like us on the trail, supplies don't just materialize out of thin air - you fight through to them as best you can.
Think about all of the benefits regular, healthy meals provide: Kids are better able to pay attention in school developing knowledge and social skills that will benefit society for decades to come; Parents have more patience and more energy, making them better role models; all of us are more capable at everything we do, creating success, improving self-confidence, and laying the groundwork for higher achievement.
Now is the time of year when new calendars go up. The time when we record vacations, birthdays and other special events. Now would be a great time to add a food bank reminder. Now would be a great time to take food rationing off the calendar of a local family. Should you donate every month? Every third month? That is up to you. How much to give? Again, give whatever you feel comfortable with.
We always hear how charitable giving goes up around the holidays and tax time. Hunger isn't so predictable. So plan to give throughout the year. And while you are placing reminders on your calendar, look up the address and phone number of your nearest food bank or shelter. When February or April comes and that reminder jumps out at you, call them up and ask what they could use – make the most of your effort.
We've all needed help from time to time. Let's remember to give back.
Happy Holidays. And may your only rationing this season be of cookies and fudge.
December 30, 2009
December 21, 2009
Support Local Libraries!
Imagine two dusty, grimy, fatigued hikers coming into a small town in northern Washington after 100-some miles on the trail. They are hungry and stinky. They look forward to the simple pleasures civilization can offer - the possibility of a shower, a bed, and a hot meal. If they pass a library sign on their way to achieve cleanliness and satiation, however, they may do a little jump for joy despite the weight on their backs. In fact, our 1200 mile trek would have been far more challenging without libraries to support us along the way. We owe many libraries in the remote landscape of the Northwest a great deal of thanks.
For Dale and me, libraries offered a refuge. At often tiny libraries in small towns along the Pacific Northwest Trail we found a warm, comfortable shelter where we could sit down in a chair for a few moments and catch our breath before connecting with the outside world. Thanks to libraries we learned they finally buried Michael Jackson after far too much hoopla, as well as Senator Ted Kennedy, an event we took more somberly. In libraries we corresponded with friends and family via e-mail, and posted new stories to the blog. Before heading out into town we got recommendations for local eateries and accommodations from friendly librarians. Whenever we came into a town to pick up our food box, we kept a sharp eye out for the local library.
We encountered our first library in Eureka, Montana. After admiring the detailed three-dimensional mural on an external wall we took over one of the few tables in the small building to catch up on our lives outside of the hike. We were thrilled to access free WiFi in a place that lacked any cell phone coverage. We even thumbed through a few books – a tantalizing peek into stories and images otherwise inaccessible on the trail.
Mural depicting historical events on wall of library in Eureka, MT
Some libraries along the hike were so small as to have limited weekly hours. The tiny Northport, WA library – once the town jail – was staffed just a couple days a week. We felt fortunate to show up at a time the small building was open. There we caught up on e-mail, thumbed through magazines with pretty, glossy pictures, posted blogs, and enjoyed the unique atmosphere of a library/historical museum. The jail cell had been converted to a children's reading room – I think I know a few moms who wouldn't mind an opportunity to lock up their kids somewhere they can read quietly. Dresses on display from the early 1900s hung incongruously with neon-pink signs proclaiming “Animanga Club meets Tuesdays”. The librarian offered to keep the WiFi signal turned on when she left for the week so we could continue to work outside the building after hours. Thank you, kind librarian!
Entrance to library/museum in Northport, WA
Children's reading room in converted jail cell of Nortport, WA library
The slightly larger library in Concrete, Washington, also opened only a few days. Yet we were able to connect to the outside world via a WiFi feed broadcast outside the building. Large posters on locked doors provided the access password and external outlets offered a valuable power source. While our rears got sore sitting on the hard concrete sidewalk, we were very grateful to be able to connect to the internet.
We came across the largest library along the PNT route in Port Townsend, WA. Their two story, stucco building hummed with activity, even in the middle of a weekday. The library was so busy, in fact, we never even found a place to sit. While most visitors seemed to be on computers, others prowled the stacks, and read in one of the scarce chairs about the place. We escaped the midday-crush of visitors and gratefully returned to fresh outside air where we discovered a sweet, feline statuette just outside the library's entrance.
Library in Port Townsend, WA
Cat sculpture outside Port Townsend, WA library
In Forks, WA – yes, that Forks - the librarians seemed pretty used to strangers hoping for an on-line connection. Yet despite (or perhaps on account of) the small town's heightened “Twilight” popularity, Forks' librarians greeted us with warm, wide smiles - no pointy canines or incisors to be seen.
While Dale and I both always liked libraries, we really came to appreciate them over the course of our hike. The proliferation of public places reminded us that local libraries offer a multitude of services to the general public for only a nominal yearly tax. For one, they open a door into the wonderful world of books, and books offer escape, or background to our histories, context for our lives, and promise for our futures. Movies and music are free, and you can peruse a variety of magazines and journals without needing a subscription. Libraries are where mothers can bring their young children for story time and retirees can research that hobby they've always wanted to try. It's a place where students can study, or simply lose themselves in daydreams. It's where people gather to talk about books, or share community concerns. People go to libraries to research new careers. And more than ever, in today's economy, libraries have been invaluable to so many who find themselves in the strange and uncomfortable position of looking for employment. It seemed appropriate and fitting, then, that we gave our first public presentation about our PNT hike in a public library.
Sadly, libraries around the country are feeling the devastating impact of our current economic troubles. Libraries are closing, and like too many others right now, many wonderful folks are losing jobs they love dearly. Since the librarians I know are so deeply passionate and enthusiastic about their work it seems like an extra blow to remove them from the thing they love best in the world. In addition, invaluable services to the community at large are disappearing. Many librarians are as devastated about the loss of library services to patrons as they are about being out of work.
The stories we've heard about branch closures and lost jobs reminds us to consider our own local libraries. We fully support the institutions that provide so much to the community, and offer refuges for locals and transients alike. So here's a big Thank You to all the libraries who offered respite during our long hike. We also want to give a special Thanks to the Aurora Public Library for letting us share our PNT experience a week ago. It meant a great deal to us to be able to share our story in a place that holds so many other stories. We hope we'll be able to pass on more of our PNT experience in future library presentations. In an effort to keep these institutions up and running we will certainly support library initiatives in future voting opportunities. In the meantime, one of the first things we do when we settle will be to get a library card!
For Dale and me, libraries offered a refuge. At often tiny libraries in small towns along the Pacific Northwest Trail we found a warm, comfortable shelter where we could sit down in a chair for a few moments and catch our breath before connecting with the outside world. Thanks to libraries we learned they finally buried Michael Jackson after far too much hoopla, as well as Senator Ted Kennedy, an event we took more somberly. In libraries we corresponded with friends and family via e-mail, and posted new stories to the blog. Before heading out into town we got recommendations for local eateries and accommodations from friendly librarians. Whenever we came into a town to pick up our food box, we kept a sharp eye out for the local library.
We encountered our first library in Eureka, Montana. After admiring the detailed three-dimensional mural on an external wall we took over one of the few tables in the small building to catch up on our lives outside of the hike. We were thrilled to access free WiFi in a place that lacked any cell phone coverage. We even thumbed through a few books – a tantalizing peek into stories and images otherwise inaccessible on the trail.
Mural depicting historical events on wall of library in Eureka, MT Some libraries along the hike were so small as to have limited weekly hours. The tiny Northport, WA library – once the town jail – was staffed just a couple days a week. We felt fortunate to show up at a time the small building was open. There we caught up on e-mail, thumbed through magazines with pretty, glossy pictures, posted blogs, and enjoyed the unique atmosphere of a library/historical museum. The jail cell had been converted to a children's reading room – I think I know a few moms who wouldn't mind an opportunity to lock up their kids somewhere they can read quietly. Dresses on display from the early 1900s hung incongruously with neon-pink signs proclaiming “Animanga Club meets Tuesdays”. The librarian offered to keep the WiFi signal turned on when she left for the week so we could continue to work outside the building after hours. Thank you, kind librarian!
Entrance to library/museum in Northport, WA
Children's reading room in converted jail cell of Nortport, WA libraryThe slightly larger library in Concrete, Washington, also opened only a few days. Yet we were able to connect to the outside world via a WiFi feed broadcast outside the building. Large posters on locked doors provided the access password and external outlets offered a valuable power source. While our rears got sore sitting on the hard concrete sidewalk, we were very grateful to be able to connect to the internet.
We came across the largest library along the PNT route in Port Townsend, WA. Their two story, stucco building hummed with activity, even in the middle of a weekday. The library was so busy, in fact, we never even found a place to sit. While most visitors seemed to be on computers, others prowled the stacks, and read in one of the scarce chairs about the place. We escaped the midday-crush of visitors and gratefully returned to fresh outside air where we discovered a sweet, feline statuette just outside the library's entrance.
Library in Port Townsend, WA
Cat sculpture outside Port Townsend, WA libraryIn Forks, WA – yes, that Forks - the librarians seemed pretty used to strangers hoping for an on-line connection. Yet despite (or perhaps on account of) the small town's heightened “Twilight” popularity, Forks' librarians greeted us with warm, wide smiles - no pointy canines or incisors to be seen.
While Dale and I both always liked libraries, we really came to appreciate them over the course of our hike. The proliferation of public places reminded us that local libraries offer a multitude of services to the general public for only a nominal yearly tax. For one, they open a door into the wonderful world of books, and books offer escape, or background to our histories, context for our lives, and promise for our futures. Movies and music are free, and you can peruse a variety of magazines and journals without needing a subscription. Libraries are where mothers can bring their young children for story time and retirees can research that hobby they've always wanted to try. It's a place where students can study, or simply lose themselves in daydreams. It's where people gather to talk about books, or share community concerns. People go to libraries to research new careers. And more than ever, in today's economy, libraries have been invaluable to so many who find themselves in the strange and uncomfortable position of looking for employment. It seemed appropriate and fitting, then, that we gave our first public presentation about our PNT hike in a public library.
Sadly, libraries around the country are feeling the devastating impact of our current economic troubles. Libraries are closing, and like too many others right now, many wonderful folks are losing jobs they love dearly. Since the librarians I know are so deeply passionate and enthusiastic about their work it seems like an extra blow to remove them from the thing they love best in the world. In addition, invaluable services to the community at large are disappearing. Many librarians are as devastated about the loss of library services to patrons as they are about being out of work.
The stories we've heard about branch closures and lost jobs reminds us to consider our own local libraries. We fully support the institutions that provide so much to the community, and offer refuges for locals and transients alike. So here's a big Thank You to all the libraries who offered respite during our long hike. We also want to give a special Thanks to the Aurora Public Library for letting us share our PNT experience a week ago. It meant a great deal to us to be able to share our story in a place that holds so many other stories. We hope we'll be able to pass on more of our PNT experience in future library presentations. In an effort to keep these institutions up and running we will certainly support library initiatives in future voting opportunities. In the meantime, one of the first things we do when we settle will be to get a library card!
November 29, 2009
Seeing Stars
Walking along the Pacific Northwest coast means walking along tide pools thriving with life - life that becomes exposed to the air and our eager eyes during low tides. We spent one especially memorable afternoon moving among rocks piled with Ochre sea stars and I got a little carried away with taking pictures of their artistically arranged bodies against the barnacled, seaweed-choked rocks and fine gray beach sand.
After the second young person to see the orange sea star on the rock above called out happily, “It's Patrick!”, I finally found out they were referring to the five-armed, orange companion to that yellow, pant-wearing cartoon sponge who lives under the sea. That's what I get for being old enough to have missed the SpongeBob SquarePants phenomenon, and for not having any of my own kids since SpongeBob splashed into Saturday morning cartoons. (And yes, I had to Google how to spell his name.)
These Ochre sea stars come in a variety of colors from orange to purple, brownish, or reddish. They are extremely tolerant out of water and can be exposed to the air for up to six hours.
Commonly miscalled star-fish, sea stars are in fact, not fish. Along with sea urchins and sea cucumbers, these Ochre stars are part of the phylum Echinodermata.
Echinoderm means “spiny skin” and if you've ever touched one of these prickly creatures you know why they were named that.
The underbelly, or under arms as it were, of these sea creatures is covered in rows and rows of tiny tube feet. These small appendages help sea stars suction to rocks, and allow them to move and feed.
Ochre sea stars eat shelled animals like barnacles, snails, chitons, limpets and mussels. I wonder if Patrick would be as beloved if his young admirers knew that in order to eat he pries open the shell of a mussel and extrudes his stomach into the opening. The meat of the mussel will literally be dissolved and eaten within its own shell! Yum. Yet without the predacious sea stars, mussels like the ones above could take over entire tide pool habitats.
The mussels have one thing in their favor - sea stars smell. It's likely the mussels to the right of the orange sea star above will detect their predator's scent and will stay closed up tight even when the tide rises again.
Aww ... pretty. Art found in nature is indeed inspiring. How could we not be star struck?
After the second young person to see the orange sea star on the rock above called out happily, “It's Patrick!”, I finally found out they were referring to the five-armed, orange companion to that yellow, pant-wearing cartoon sponge who lives under the sea. That's what I get for being old enough to have missed the SpongeBob SquarePants phenomenon, and for not having any of my own kids since SpongeBob splashed into Saturday morning cartoons. (And yes, I had to Google how to spell his name.)
These Ochre sea stars come in a variety of colors from orange to purple, brownish, or reddish. They are extremely tolerant out of water and can be exposed to the air for up to six hours.
Commonly miscalled star-fish, sea stars are in fact, not fish. Along with sea urchins and sea cucumbers, these Ochre stars are part of the phylum Echinodermata.
Echinoderm means “spiny skin” and if you've ever touched one of these prickly creatures you know why they were named that.
The underbelly, or under arms as it were, of these sea creatures is covered in rows and rows of tiny tube feet. These small appendages help sea stars suction to rocks, and allow them to move and feed.
Ochre sea stars eat shelled animals like barnacles, snails, chitons, limpets and mussels. I wonder if Patrick would be as beloved if his young admirers knew that in order to eat he pries open the shell of a mussel and extrudes his stomach into the opening. The meat of the mussel will literally be dissolved and eaten within its own shell! Yum. Yet without the predacious sea stars, mussels like the ones above could take over entire tide pool habitats.
The mussels have one thing in their favor - sea stars smell. It's likely the mussels to the right of the orange sea star above will detect their predator's scent and will stay closed up tight even when the tide rises again.
Aww ... pretty. Art found in nature is indeed inspiring. How could we not be star struck?
November 26, 2009
Turkeys
Turkeys east of Goldstake, WashingtonWe have lots of traditions centered around turkeys in this country –
Millions are consumed for Thanksgiving, the president annually pardons a couple of birds, “sparing” them from the dinner table (what actually happens to them anyway? Is there an old fowl home where they while away their days in rockers?), and we search the supermarket fliers for the best price on frozen (sometimes fresh), big-breasted, butter-balled blocks wrapped in plastic that bear no resemblance to the birds pictured above.
Given that our urbanized population lacks an appreciation for where our food comes from – what if we changed that last tradition? What if we selected the centerpiece of our holiday tables fully feathered? What if we drove out to a commercial poultry farm, walked among the thousands of white birds, and picked out our favorite gobbler to be killed, plucked and delivered the following week? (Of course, the Wild Turkey Federation encourages us all to take up hunting for what was almost our nation’s symbol.) Perhaps the protein smothered in gravy or slathered with cranberry sauce on our sandwich the next day would hold more meaning. Perhaps the gap between the grocery store and the farm would be reduced. Perhaps we would be more thankful for those who devote their lives to growing the food we consume. Perhaps we would be thankful for living in a country whose natural landscapes were home to the first turkey. Perhaps we would have a greater appreciation for the landscapes themselves and all they provide for us. Perhaps.
Me? I’m off to the store – Christmas hams are on sale.
November 24, 2009
PNT Slide Presentation!
Our dear friend Megan Ellis has arranged for a public presentation of slides and stories from our PNT hike at the Aurora Public Library in Colorado. Here is pertinent information about the talk as well as copies of Megan's promotional fliers (click on to see larger).
What: Stepping Away: Adventures on the Pacific Northwest Trail
When: Saturday December 12, from 3-5pm.
Where: Aurora Central Library, Community Room. 14949 E. Alameda Pkwy. Aurora, CO 80012
Directions to the presentation can be found on the Central Aurora Public Library website.
If you'd like us to give a presentation in your neck of the woods, please contact us!
beyondsealevelblog@gmail.com
Directions to the presentation can be found on the Central Aurora Public Library website.
If you'd like us to give a presentation in your neck of the woods, please contact us!
beyondsealevelblog@gmail.com
November 22, 2009
The Pacific Northwest Coast
The Pacific Northwest coast is a stunning, thriving cacophony of movement and sound – a rich ecosystem that tantalizes with its intriguing blend of life and death and decay and transition. Deep green forests line miles of rocky cliffs and sand and pebble beaches. Waves flow, crash and resound in a daily tidal cycle against the changing lines of land. We immersed ourselves in this arresting landscape for a full week where we experienced as many shifts in weather as we did tides, and discovered strange, wonderful, curious and sometimes disturbing images along the beach. Here are some of those images with more to come in future coastal-themed blogs.
Olympic National Park's coastal section between Chilean memorial and Cedar creek
Driftwood north of Rialto beach
Watching the waves on a surprising sunny day in October
Sea stacks at sunrise
Wave-induced stone and pebble beach art
Man-made driftwood artwork - a coastal Christmas tree?
Seabirds awaiting the storm
Olympic National Park's coastal section between Chilean memorial and Cedar creek
Driftwood north of Rialto beach
Watching the waves on a surprising sunny day in October
Sea stacks at sunrise
Wave-induced stone and pebble beach art
Man-made driftwood artwork - a coastal Christmas tree?
Seabirds awaiting the stormNovember 02, 2009
Watery Reflections
7 October 2009 – Fort Worden State Park
Musings from the entrance to Puget Sound - while we had finally reached sea level, many more miles and mountains lay ahead...
Standing atop a bluff overlooking the sound,
we watch the moon rise.
Below us the tide rhythmically laps
at the shore -
each wave the steady tick of a clock drawing us backward
through the days of our journey -
reflections on the trials and challenges receding behind us.
The waves crash on the beach
overlap with those before,
blur the rhythm,
melt memories together.
The chill on the wind moves us forward.
-DT
Moon over Puget Sound, WA
Musings from the entrance to Puget Sound - while we had finally reached sea level, many more miles and mountains lay ahead...
Standing atop a bluff overlooking the sound,
we watch the moon rise.
Below us the tide rhythmically laps
at the shore -
each wave the steady tick of a clock drawing us backward
through the days of our journey -
reflections on the trials and challenges receding behind us.
The waves crash on the beach
overlap with those before,
blur the rhythm,
melt memories together.
The chill on the wind moves us forward.
-DT
Moon over Puget Sound, WAOctober 25, 2009
Still Moving Forward
Reaching a milestone, or 1200 of them, is often followed by a let down. Along with a sense of accomplishment comes an emptiness. The question looms... "What next?"
Well don't worry about us!
We've spent much of the last three months in deep, eager, excited discussions of our next direction and what future challenges await.
While our journey to the Pacific has ended, our reflections and perspectives from Beyond Sea Level continue.
We welcome you to visit often for more stories and pictures from our long hike while we transition to new enterprises.
Turner Falls, East of Yaak, Montana
Well don't worry about us!
We've spent much of the last three months in deep, eager, excited discussions of our next direction and what future challenges await.
While our journey to the Pacific has ended, our reflections and perspectives from Beyond Sea Level continue.
We welcome you to visit often for more stories and pictures from our long hike while we transition to new enterprises.
Turner Falls, East of Yaak, MontanaNEWS - END OF PNT TRAIL REACHED
1,293 +/- miles in 110 days, averaging 11 _/- miles per day.
Trail Map updated - latest Callae/Dale blog posted shortly.
[posted by Alan/Rachelle Frazier]
Trail Map updated - latest Callae/Dale blog posted shortly.
[posted by Alan/Rachelle Frazier]
October 17, 2009
Not an Island
A quick note from the Forks library (member of the North Olympic Library System) before heading out to the beach...
No journey of this duration happens without assistance from family, friends and strangers (new friends). As our adventure nears completion we would like to recognize some of the help we have received along the way and offer a sincere Thanks! From rides to and from trailheads to surprises in our resupply boxes to smiles of welcome in small towns across the Northwest our trip would not have been the same without the contributions of many people.
Just a few of the those who have helped us out along the way...
Jan and Horace Thuline drove us from Seattle to Glacier National Park. Despite some reservations about the size of our packs they waved goodbye over three months ago at the Bowman Lake campground.
Alan and Rachelle Frazier made sure each of our food boxes arrived at their proper destination on time. Thanks to the inconsistency in the implementation of the US Postal Service's policy on General Delivery packages this was a much larger task than simply dropping boxes off at their local office in Conifer. And the inclusion of Alan's original sketches and Rachelle's treats, wildlife humor and relevant quotations added meaning and anticipation to the opening of each box.
Ron and Anny Tessin will be (we hope) waiting for us at the Ozette Lake Trailhead when we walk out of the wilderness. While we will definitely appreciate the ride - it is their willingness to ride with us, unshowered, that earns our sincerest thanks.
Brian Van Wieren and Laura Wilson journeyed to Washington to share some of the experience with us. They brought sunshine and good conversation - unfortunately they took the sun with them when they left.
Meals and engaging conversation were shared, and local knowledge was passed on with too many people to list here, but don't worry, we know how to find you.
We are also indebted to everyone who has emailed, commented on posts, or mailed letters for us to read on the trail - thanks for taking the time, providing your insights, and sharing our journey.
No journey of this duration happens without assistance from family, friends and strangers (new friends). As our adventure nears completion we would like to recognize some of the help we have received along the way and offer a sincere Thanks! From rides to and from trailheads to surprises in our resupply boxes to smiles of welcome in small towns across the Northwest our trip would not have been the same without the contributions of many people.
Just a few of the those who have helped us out along the way...
Jan and Horace Thuline drove us from Seattle to Glacier National Park. Despite some reservations about the size of our packs they waved goodbye over three months ago at the Bowman Lake campground.
Alan and Rachelle Frazier made sure each of our food boxes arrived at their proper destination on time. Thanks to the inconsistency in the implementation of the US Postal Service's policy on General Delivery packages this was a much larger task than simply dropping boxes off at their local office in Conifer. And the inclusion of Alan's original sketches and Rachelle's treats, wildlife humor and relevant quotations added meaning and anticipation to the opening of each box.
Ron and Anny Tessin will be (we hope) waiting for us at the Ozette Lake Trailhead when we walk out of the wilderness. While we will definitely appreciate the ride - it is their willingness to ride with us, unshowered, that earns our sincerest thanks.
Brian Van Wieren and Laura Wilson journeyed to Washington to share some of the experience with us. They brought sunshine and good conversation - unfortunately they took the sun with them when they left.
Meals and engaging conversation were shared, and local knowledge was passed on with too many people to list here, but don't worry, we know how to find you.
We are also indebted to everyone who has emailed, commented on posts, or mailed letters for us to read on the trail - thanks for taking the time, providing your insights, and sharing our journey.
Our traverse was made unique by the efforts you put forth - the memories we have and the stories we will tell are the products. We look forward to sharing more experiences with all of you.
Callae and Dale
NEWS: Forks reached
October 16th - After a very wet soggy trek through the Olympics, Forks reached. Final PNT leg is along the coast to Ozetta Lake and Cape Alava.
Trail map updated.
[Posted by Alan/Rachelle Frazier]
Trail map updated.
[Posted by Alan/Rachelle Frazier]
October 16, 2009
Power Disadvantage
You really appreciate the power of electrical power when you no longer have any. We've been “experiencing technical difficulties” with the power supply for our computer, and as such do not anticipate any new blog posts before the end of the journey. Alan Frazier will continue to post updates about our progress, and we will continue to add new posts when we finally return to civilization (in time for Halloween - do you think we dress up as smelly hikers?) and our power cord adapter.
Check back for updates and new posts!
Check back for updates and new posts!
October 15, 2009
Signage
We came across this sign in Deception Pass State Park on Whidbey Island and immediately wondered what exactly it was telling us. Is the rather stiff $87 fine for...
Having your dog on a leash?
Letting your dog sit?
Letting your dog sit while leashed?
Standing while your dog sits?
Watching your dog sit?
Stepping on your dog's tail?
Keeping your dog off the playground equipment?
Letting your dog sit?
Letting your dog sit while leashed?
Standing while your dog sits?
Watching your dog sit?
Stepping on your dog's tail?
Keeping your dog off the playground equipment?
October 12, 2009
Food Thoughts
On a trip like ours, food is much more important than something you literally cannot live without.
We like to eat. The result - we carry more weight in food than typical long-distance hikers. It's a quality of life thing. So we've striven to find interesting and creative ways to make our potentially monotonous staple supply of nourishment more interesting to the palette. For instance, powdered coconut milk in our morning oatmeal makes breakfast interesting again. Mixing chicken stock, butter and Parmesan cheese into rehydrated green beans adds a new sparkle and desperately needed calories to a dinner side-dish. Powdered peanut butter added to chocolate pudding leads to a protein-rich post-dinner treat. Despite the obvious shortcomings of dehydrated and freeze-dried food planned three months in advance, imaginative preparations have kept our pre-packed food enjoyable.
At the same time, we truly appreciate opportunities to supplement, even replace our must-add-water meals with fresh fruits and berries. Early in the summer we painstakingly bent over with full packs to pinch off tiny, intensely-flavored wild strawberries from their low-growing stems. We let the juice of fat, soft thimbleberries run down our chins when we passed through their shoulder-high growth. Later in the season wild huckleberries provided refreshing bursts of wet sweetness. In fact, when we ran dangerously low on food near the end of our nearly two-weeks in the Pasayten, alpine huckleberries became invaluable as we gathered the small round, chilled berries by the handful on rainy Sky Pilot Pass. Earlier that week we'd plucked tantalizingly delicious purple vaccinium berries at 7,400 feet. The miniature purple berries were nearly hidden among the thick green ground cover just shifting into the russet hues of autumn. Then, days after the autumn equinox, we walked through the Skagit valley, a lovely agricultural mecca nestled between the western Cascades and saltwater. We could almost forget the pain of hiking miles of asphalt when we crunched into fresh, crisp apples straight from the tree.
And recently we were reminded the simplest meals can often be the most satisfying. Imagine our excitement when we found ourselves at Toby's Tavern on Whidbey Island sharing a meal of fresh, local mussels with new-found friends and fellow campers. We lifted pints of cold beer before diving into giant bowls of the wine-steamed bivalves, complemented with fresh sourdough bread and lively conversation. The joy of food, and company, need not come in fancy packages.
Food can complement your location and provide a creative outlet. Food tastes best straight from the source, especially when you have no other. And food grounds us. Food is much more than nourishment for survival – we are what, where, and how we eat.
Skagit Valley apples, crisp, sweet and delicious
We like to eat. The result - we carry more weight in food than typical long-distance hikers. It's a quality of life thing. So we've striven to find interesting and creative ways to make our potentially monotonous staple supply of nourishment more interesting to the palette. For instance, powdered coconut milk in our morning oatmeal makes breakfast interesting again. Mixing chicken stock, butter and Parmesan cheese into rehydrated green beans adds a new sparkle and desperately needed calories to a dinner side-dish. Powdered peanut butter added to chocolate pudding leads to a protein-rich post-dinner treat. Despite the obvious shortcomings of dehydrated and freeze-dried food planned three months in advance, imaginative preparations have kept our pre-packed food enjoyable.
At the same time, we truly appreciate opportunities to supplement, even replace our must-add-water meals with fresh fruits and berries. Early in the summer we painstakingly bent over with full packs to pinch off tiny, intensely-flavored wild strawberries from their low-growing stems. We let the juice of fat, soft thimbleberries run down our chins when we passed through their shoulder-high growth. Later in the season wild huckleberries provided refreshing bursts of wet sweetness. In fact, when we ran dangerously low on food near the end of our nearly two-weeks in the Pasayten, alpine huckleberries became invaluable as we gathered the small round, chilled berries by the handful on rainy Sky Pilot Pass. Earlier that week we'd plucked tantalizingly delicious purple vaccinium berries at 7,400 feet. The miniature purple berries were nearly hidden among the thick green ground cover just shifting into the russet hues of autumn. Then, days after the autumn equinox, we walked through the Skagit valley, a lovely agricultural mecca nestled between the western Cascades and saltwater. We could almost forget the pain of hiking miles of asphalt when we crunched into fresh, crisp apples straight from the tree.
And recently we were reminded the simplest meals can often be the most satisfying. Imagine our excitement when we found ourselves at Toby's Tavern on Whidbey Island sharing a meal of fresh, local mussels with new-found friends and fellow campers. We lifted pints of cold beer before diving into giant bowls of the wine-steamed bivalves, complemented with fresh sourdough bread and lively conversation. The joy of food, and company, need not come in fancy packages.
Food can complement your location and provide a creative outlet. Food tastes best straight from the source, especially when you have no other. And food grounds us. Food is much more than nourishment for survival – we are what, where, and how we eat.
Skagit Valley apples, crisp, sweet and delicious October 09, 2009
Through thick and thin (air, that is)
On top of the world at 7200 feet, and at two...
Enjoying the view from atop the Tatoosh Buttes, Pasayten Wilderness Area
Watching for seals in Padilla Bay (our first salt water)
Enjoying the view from atop the Tatoosh Buttes, Pasayten Wilderness Area
Watching for seals in Padilla Bay (our first salt water)October 05, 2009
Chasing Cows
When you get out of bed in the morning, it is impossible to predict what the most memorable event of the day will be. Take for instance the fifth of September, the day we walked into Oroville, WA. On this drizzly, chilly Saturday we hiked over seventeen miles, dropped a couple thousand feet in elevation, and we went from quasi-wilderness into a developed agricultural valley. We traversed abandoned logging roads and state highways. We spotted big horn sheep for the first time on this trip and watched a black bear on a ridge overlooking town. We ate prime rib for dinner and showered before going to bed. But none of these ranked as the most memorable event of the day.
Okanogan River valley south of Oroville, Washington
Bighorn Sheep above Whistler's Canyon
Black bear overlooking Oroville, Washington
The day's most memorable event centers on a small part of a cow that few of us choose to eat - the brain. Most animals, when surprised in the wild, flee from your presence. This is true not only of wildlife such as deer, elk, bears and even squirrels, but also the feral cow. So when faced with the negligible threat of two ambling hikers so loaded down with packs they are unable to give chase even if desired, cows flee. And using their domesticated brains, they flee in the path of least resistance. Ironically, this is the only path through the forest and therefore the one that we too will take down the hillside.
On this day we saw many cows. Black ones, brown ones, big ones, little ones, young and old. All branded and ear-tagged. Many curious from a distance, but ultimately skittish. We were about halfway down Whistler's Canyon when we came upon a cow and her calf innocently grazing by the side of the trail. As we neared, they fled. We followed their obvious tracks down the rain-dampened path, guessing how long it would be before they veered into the brush. To our amusement we regularly caught up to the wary cud-chewers, stopped in the middle of the trail. Using their highly developed bovine brains they undoubtedly thought they'd given us the slip only to see us walking down the trail behind them. Again, they'd be off. This time with poo plopping audibly behind the young calf. Poo, the color of fresh ground peanut butter, quite unlike the darker weathered patties we'd been stepping around for weeks. Poo, that assured us even a mile later we were still hot on the cows' trail.
Several poo-splatters later, the first two cows picked up reinforcements. Their collective gray matter examined the situation and all concurred; the established trail was their best escape route. By mile three there were too many tracks to determine the exact number of cows we were chasing down the hill at the breathtaking pace of two miles an hour. We followed those cows for over five miles. Neither our tired feet nor the perpetual rain could dampen our spirits given the entertainment provided by a handful of feral cows. Cows too stupid to step off the established trail. Cows that skirted downed trees across their path only to immediately return to ours. Cows who evacuated their bowels again and again and again. Cows that were undoubtedly related to, maybe even knew, our dinner that night. Cows that became the most memorable event of the day.
Wary cud-chewer, preparing to flee.
Okanogan River valley south of Oroville, Washington 
Bighorn Sheep above Whistler's Canyon
Black bear overlooking Oroville, WashingtonThe day's most memorable event centers on a small part of a cow that few of us choose to eat - the brain. Most animals, when surprised in the wild, flee from your presence. This is true not only of wildlife such as deer, elk, bears and even squirrels, but also the feral cow. So when faced with the negligible threat of two ambling hikers so loaded down with packs they are unable to give chase even if desired, cows flee. And using their domesticated brains, they flee in the path of least resistance. Ironically, this is the only path through the forest and therefore the one that we too will take down the hillside.
On this day we saw many cows. Black ones, brown ones, big ones, little ones, young and old. All branded and ear-tagged. Many curious from a distance, but ultimately skittish. We were about halfway down Whistler's Canyon when we came upon a cow and her calf innocently grazing by the side of the trail. As we neared, they fled. We followed their obvious tracks down the rain-dampened path, guessing how long it would be before they veered into the brush. To our amusement we regularly caught up to the wary cud-chewers, stopped in the middle of the trail. Using their highly developed bovine brains they undoubtedly thought they'd given us the slip only to see us walking down the trail behind them. Again, they'd be off. This time with poo plopping audibly behind the young calf. Poo, the color of fresh ground peanut butter, quite unlike the darker weathered patties we'd been stepping around for weeks. Poo, that assured us even a mile later we were still hot on the cows' trail.
Several poo-splatters later, the first two cows picked up reinforcements. Their collective gray matter examined the situation and all concurred; the established trail was their best escape route. By mile three there were too many tracks to determine the exact number of cows we were chasing down the hill at the breathtaking pace of two miles an hour. We followed those cows for over five miles. Neither our tired feet nor the perpetual rain could dampen our spirits given the entertainment provided by a handful of feral cows. Cows too stupid to step off the established trail. Cows that skirted downed trees across their path only to immediately return to ours. Cows who evacuated their bowels again and again and again. Cows that were undoubtedly related to, maybe even knew, our dinner that night. Cows that became the most memorable event of the day.
Wary cud-chewer, preparing to flee. October 03, 2009
NEWS - Port Townsend reached
They reached Port Townsend, WA on Friday, trail map updated.
[Posted by Alan and Rachelle.]
[Posted by Alan and Rachelle.]
September 27, 2009
NEWS - Bow reached....
Bow reached on Sat. Sept. 26, trail map updated - next stop Port Towsand.
1,063 Miles hiked out of 1,290 total - 82% done!!!
[Posted by Alan Frazier]
1,063 Miles hiked out of 1,290 total - 82% done!!!
[Posted by Alan Frazier]
September 25, 2009
Interesting Insects #2
Bees, Wasps, Bee-Mimics
Here you find the second in a series of Interesting Insect encounters on the PNT. Throughout this trip we've frequently encountered bees, wasps and bee mimics. Here are some images of these distinctive critters.
Bees are typically non-malicious, colorful, industrious things. They look especially pretty against a flowery backdrop.
Wasps seem so much more, well, evil than bees. There's a perception of bees working together in social units, collecting nectar to make sweet, sweet honey, all the while pollinating beautiful flowers. Wasps are leaner, meaner, and frankly, more vicious. Sure, they play an invaluable role in the ecosystem – managing pest insects for one – but as predators and parasites, not pollinators. We watched this group of wasps swirling and hovering over something deep in the grasses.
Upon closer (but not too close) inspection we realized they were voraciously fighting over the remains of a moth. No friendly working community here. You can see in this slightly blurry image that the wasp in the upper left has absconded with what appears to be the moth's head. The other two insects are ripping apart what remains of their dinner. Violent, yes. Also very very neat to see their competitive interactions.
And then there are the totally different, completely cool bee mimics. I know virtually nothing about these insects, but we really enjoyed watching them throughout the summer. They are small, curious, non-malicious. These flies employ mimicry to avoid predation, and at first their bee-like coloration can be a bit alarming. Once you realize their hovering, helicopter-like flight patterns are non-threatening they become quite charming. It took us weeks and weeks to finally get a picture of one – they are fast little critters on the wing.
Stay tuned for the next installment of our interesting insect encounters along the PNT!
Here you find the second in a series of Interesting Insect encounters on the PNT. Throughout this trip we've frequently encountered bees, wasps and bee mimics. Here are some images of these distinctive critters.
Bees are typically non-malicious, colorful, industrious things. They look especially pretty against a flowery backdrop.
Wasps seem so much more, well, evil than bees. There's a perception of bees working together in social units, collecting nectar to make sweet, sweet honey, all the while pollinating beautiful flowers. Wasps are leaner, meaner, and frankly, more vicious. Sure, they play an invaluable role in the ecosystem – managing pest insects for one – but as predators and parasites, not pollinators. We watched this group of wasps swirling and hovering over something deep in the grasses.
Upon closer (but not too close) inspection we realized they were voraciously fighting over the remains of a moth. No friendly working community here. You can see in this slightly blurry image that the wasp in the upper left has absconded with what appears to be the moth's head. The other two insects are ripping apart what remains of their dinner. Violent, yes. Also very very neat to see their competitive interactions.
And then there are the totally different, completely cool bee mimics. I know virtually nothing about these insects, but we really enjoyed watching them throughout the summer. They are small, curious, non-malicious. These flies employ mimicry to avoid predation, and at first their bee-like coloration can be a bit alarming. Once you realize their hovering, helicopter-like flight patterns are non-threatening they become quite charming. It took us weeks and weeks to finally get a picture of one – they are fast little critters on the wing.Stay tuned for the next installment of our interesting insect encounters along the PNT!
Two Month Anniversary
Our PNT journey began on July 13th in Glacier National Park. We hiked seven miles in the rain, to a designated campsite at Bowman Lake. Despite a rolling trail, in seven miles we experienced no net change in elevation. Our packs were heavy and wet, and my legs and back and neck ached after the short day on the trail. After a hasty meal in the chilly weather we dove into our sleeping bags before dark. I worried wild animals might visit our campsite in the night. In the morning we shared the communal cooking area with eight other hikers as we shivered in the damp morning air. Soon we packed up our gear and set off on the long climb to Brown Pass and our next designated campsite.
What a difference two months can make.
On September 13th, two states and over 700 miles later, we found ourselves in the Pasayten Wilderness of Washington State. On our two-month anniversary on the trail we hiked fifteen miles under gorgeous sunny skies. In that distance we climbed over 3000 feet in elevation to stunning Cathedral Pass. We dropped a short way down into a campsite of our choosing above upper Cathedral Lake in time to make a delicious meal before watching the dazzling sunset over distant Mount Baker. Later, snuggled in our sleeping bags, we lay out on wide, flat rocks and watched stars pop into view until they filled the dome of the night sky. Shooting stars cascaded overhead. Despite the elevation and the lateness of the season a warm breeze wafted across the exposed rocks and over our cheeks. My feet still ached, now the familiar throb of being freed from a long day of pounding the trail in hiking boots. I wondered, hopefully, if we'd awaken with any animal visitors nearby. Indeed, the next day we watched a group of six mountain goats, including a nanny and her kid grazing up the slope. Our only other company was a couple of climbers who spent the afternoon ascending one of the many rock spurs above the lake. The stunning views, the exposed openness of the alpine terrain, and the freedom from set schedules encouraged us to stay an extra day – a gentle start to month number three.
Looking west from Cathedral Pass, Pasayten Wilderness, Washington. (Our white tent is barely visible on the left side in front of the dark treeline).
Six mountain goats, including a nanny and her kid (seen in the lower left), visited us at Cathedral Pass.
What a difference two months can make.
On September 13th, two states and over 700 miles later, we found ourselves in the Pasayten Wilderness of Washington State. On our two-month anniversary on the trail we hiked fifteen miles under gorgeous sunny skies. In that distance we climbed over 3000 feet in elevation to stunning Cathedral Pass. We dropped a short way down into a campsite of our choosing above upper Cathedral Lake in time to make a delicious meal before watching the dazzling sunset over distant Mount Baker. Later, snuggled in our sleeping bags, we lay out on wide, flat rocks and watched stars pop into view until they filled the dome of the night sky. Shooting stars cascaded overhead. Despite the elevation and the lateness of the season a warm breeze wafted across the exposed rocks and over our cheeks. My feet still ached, now the familiar throb of being freed from a long day of pounding the trail in hiking boots. I wondered, hopefully, if we'd awaken with any animal visitors nearby. Indeed, the next day we watched a group of six mountain goats, including a nanny and her kid grazing up the slope. Our only other company was a couple of climbers who spent the afternoon ascending one of the many rock spurs above the lake. The stunning views, the exposed openness of the alpine terrain, and the freedom from set schedules encouraged us to stay an extra day – a gentle start to month number three.
Looking west from Cathedral Pass, Pasayten Wilderness, Washington. (Our white tent is barely visible on the left side in front of the dark treeline).
Six mountain goats, including a nanny and her kid (seen in the lower left), visited us at Cathedral Pass.September 22, 2009
Experiencing Wilderness
Beware your expectations. Having just emerged from the Pasayten Wilderness Area in North Central Washington State – the most remote section of the entire PNT - we were reminded that expectations can be dangerous.
The Pasayten lies miles beyond exurbia, is buffered by National Forests, and home to the most diverse collection of charismatic mega-fauna we'll encounter - from mountain lions and goats, to elk and moose, ptarmigan, harriers, marmots, and more. We expected long days, scenic vistas, and complete separation from the outside world. What we got was miles and miles of quality trails, 360-degree panoramas, jagged snow-capped peaks, pristine alpine lakes, and the true awareness that if anything were to happen help was days, not hours, away.
What we lacked was solitude. We saw and interacted with more people in two weeks of the Pasayten than in the previous two months combined.
What did we learn? When too many people search for solitude in breathtaking, remote landscapes, often no one achieves their goal.
View from atop Devil's Dome, Pasayten Wilderness
The Pasayten lies miles beyond exurbia, is buffered by National Forests, and home to the most diverse collection of charismatic mega-fauna we'll encounter - from mountain lions and goats, to elk and moose, ptarmigan, harriers, marmots, and more. We expected long days, scenic vistas, and complete separation from the outside world. What we got was miles and miles of quality trails, 360-degree panoramas, jagged snow-capped peaks, pristine alpine lakes, and the true awareness that if anything were to happen help was days, not hours, away.
What we lacked was solitude. We saw and interacted with more people in two weeks of the Pasayten than in the previous two months combined.
What did we learn? When too many people search for solitude in breathtaking, remote landscapes, often no one achieves their goal.
View from atop Devil's Dome, Pasayten WildernessSeptember 21, 2009
NEWS - Concrete reached 9/20/2009
They reached Concrete yesterday, progress trail map is updated.
They were unable to hike from Ross Lake Resort due to passes closed from rockslide and forest fires on both sides of trail. They were able to get a ride from Ross Lake Resort to Concrete. They should have new blogs posted soon.
[posted by Alan and Rachelle Frazier]
They were unable to hike from Ross Lake Resort due to passes closed from rockslide and forest fires on both sides of trail. They were able to get a ride from Ross Lake Resort to Concrete. They should have new blogs posted soon.
[posted by Alan and Rachelle Frazier]
September 18, 2009
What is This? #6
An occasional series where we share for your amusement unique, curious, and/or fascinating things that we have encountered!
Okay, so this installment is more about engaging your creative imagination than asking a serious “What is this?” question. You know how it's fun to look at clouds and find images and shapes in them? Well, when you've been on the trail as long as we have, you find yourself imagining images out of all sorts of things. Callae thought she saw something very specific in this compilation of rock, soil and plants. What do you see?
This image was taken on 24 August 2009 in the Colville National Forest during a much-needed break along the side of the forest service road we'd been hiking for miles and miles and miles.
Callae's description of this image will be included in the next What is This post.
We encourage you to submit your thoughts using the Comments link below.
Answer to What is This #5 – (ColvilleNatForest) original post date: 09-14-2009
Okay, so this installment is more about engaging your creative imagination than asking a serious “What is this?” question. You know how it's fun to look at clouds and find images and shapes in them? Well, when you've been on the trail as long as we have, you find yourself imagining images out of all sorts of things. Callae thought she saw something very specific in this compilation of rock, soil and plants. What do you see?
This image was taken on 24 August 2009 in the Colville National Forest during a much-needed break along the side of the forest service road we'd been hiking for miles and miles and miles.
Callae's description of this image will be included in the next What is This post.
We encourage you to submit your thoughts using the Comments link below.
Answer to What is This #5 – (ColvilleNatForest) original post date: 09-14-2009
We believe these fence-like structures must be cattle guards, set in place to discourage cows from completely tromping through these areas. Perhaps the hillside along the roadway is being revegetated. The other guard was placed over a stream to help prevent total destruction of that waterway. Given the numerous contaminated water sources we passed, we're not sure why these particular areas were under protection. An experiment, perhaps?
September 16, 2009
Interesting Insects #1
Beautiful Butterflies
When you first embark on a long hike your senses are attuned to big-picture images and thoughts. The scenery. The weather. The aches and pains. The giant mountain ahead of you. Survival. Perhaps there are big exciting animals to distract you. Often there are not. As time passes and the initial awe of the hike wanes you start to notice smaller aspects of the experience. One of the things we have become more attuned to as this journey progresses is the insects among us. So here you find the first in a series of Interesting Insect encounters on the PNT.
Butterflies are bright, beautiful and impossible to ignore when they flit across your path or take a moment to land on you or your pack to suck away the salt accumulating there. Earlier in the season we had several close encounters with a variety of lovely amber butterflies. Here they are!
When you first embark on a long hike your senses are attuned to big-picture images and thoughts. The scenery. The weather. The aches and pains. The giant mountain ahead of you. Survival. Perhaps there are big exciting animals to distract you. Often there are not. As time passes and the initial awe of the hike wanes you start to notice smaller aspects of the experience. One of the things we have become more attuned to as this journey progresses is the insects among us. So here you find the first in a series of Interesting Insect encounters on the PNT.
Butterflies are bright, beautiful and impossible to ignore when they flit across your path or take a moment to land on you or your pack to suck away the salt accumulating there. Earlier in the season we had several close encounters with a variety of lovely amber butterflies. Here they are!
This Hydaspe Fritillary kept us company in Glacier National Park along a stream near the south end of Waterton Lake. It was a much nicer companion than the mosquitoes who had been nibbling on my hands, or the flies you can see perched on my thumb.
One of my favorite things about butterflies is how different they appear when their wings are closed. Fritillaries like this one have giant silvery spots that really stand out against its dark hind-wings.
This small Northern Checkerspot sucked salt from my finger while overlooking Red Meadow Lake in Western Montana.
You can see how the Checkerspots got their name when you see the striking contrast on the underside of the hind wings.
This Satyr Comma butter is ideally suited for its life in the trees as it is camouflaged against gray bark. The white comma on its hind wing helps give away its name.
And then the comma opens its drab wings and voila, a stunning shock of amber and gold to dazzle the senses. Plus, I just love the abstract, uneven lines of this butterfly's outline.
Stay tuned for the next installment of our interesting insect encounters along the PNT!
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