Camping, Day 4
Jul. 25th, 2009 02:55 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
elfsJust to warn you, there are a lot of photographs in this pack (24 in total, many of them wide-angle or stitch panos), but so many of them were gorgeous I couldn't bear not to post them.)
No, really, they love my cooking Cooking while camping is a communal effort. Omaha made marvelous fires, but a lot of the cooking came down to me. The secret to mountain pancakes is simple: put 2 cups flour, 1 tbsp baking powder, 1 tbs sugar and 1/2 tsp salt at home into a ziplock bag big enough to hold the mix. On the mountain, put milk (1.5 cups) and one egg into another ziplock bag, shake vigorously, then pour that mixture into the bag holding the dry mix, and shake again. Usually, you don't need all of the liquid.
Silliest RV YetOur hiking destination for the day was Berkeley Meadow, a four-mile hike into the Mount Rainier wilderness from a WWII-era "mountain resort" for rich weirdos ("Yay, Rich Weirdos!") that's been turned into one of those standard visitor centers, although this one still features a gift shop and a small restaurant.
While we were there, we saw this silly-looking RV that someone had painted up.
Mt Rainier
Mt Baker
Omaha and Yamaraashi-chan and the Moon
Alpine butterfly
Ladybird on Omaha's finger
Avalance Ridge to Frozen Lake
We got to the top of the ridge to the northwest, and made a left, following the trail markers to a place called "Frozen Lake." There were a lot of people on this trail, and many of them were in the same fix we were: too damned many mosquitos. Despite the bugspray, many of them were getting through to Kouryou-chan, who of our family is the mosquito's favorite target. There must be something about the way she smells that attracts them, because she was fighting them off contstantly.
From the top of the ridge there were clear, beautiful views of both Mount Rainier and Mount Baker, as well as more prosiac views to the southeast that included the downslopes and the resort.
We walked along a high, rocky ridge, gaining altitude, until we came to a vast avalanche field that reminded Omaha and I of the avalanche field we crossed one summer over in Concrete, before we had kids. We had to portage our bicycles across a quarter-mile-wide, unstable avalanche field that summer, and we were both glad that this one had been stabilized, apparently mostly by manual, human labor. "Just imagine," I pointed out. "All of Rome was built that way."
Frozen Lake
Frozen Lake, from the South
Submerged ice floe under Frozen Lake
We walked up to Frozen Lake, past signs that informed us that this was "Municipal Water Supply" and we weren't to contaminate the lake in any way. I found that somewhat surprising since there were plenty of opportunities later in the water's life to contaminate it one way or another, but this was one of those rare opportunities where environment and circumstance allow you to drink straight from the stream-- snowpacks don't host cryptosporidium, that wretched disease that gives so many overnight hikers terrible stomach pain. Still, the place was roped off and everyone was well-behaved.
We got up to the lake proper and stopped for a lunch of loose-meat sandwiches. The lake is small, for a "lake," but the view is stunning. The air is thin up here, at over 6700 feet, but you get used to it quickly.
Across the blast field to Berkeley Meadow
Family crosses snowfield
View down into Berkeley Meadow
The Burroughs blast zone is a high, mountain field scoured with dark grey rocks and packed snowfields that winds its way around a lesser peak until it finally opens up on a ridge that descends, gently at first, down into Berkeley Meadow.
The girls were absolutely thrilled to have snow, and made snow angels, had snow fights, and scraped down below the dust-covered top layer to reach underlayers, which they then ate or, as I showed them later, drank, by scooping my drinking bottle repeatedly through the snow and shoving those scoopfuls down into the bottle.
Descent into Berkeley Meadow
Stream falling down Berkeley Meadow's north slope
It's hard to describe just how beautiful Berkeley Meadow is, and how hellish. Beautiful, because most of it is completely untrammeled. Most people stop at Frozen Lake and never get this far unless they're serious hikers, and most of them are overnighters, so they're the kind that don't just stomp across the meadow of wildflowers. There's no sign at all of human habitation except for the one narrow trail. It's true wilderness.
Hellish because the mosquitos were just murder. They were everywhere. At one point Yamaraashi-chan counted over fifteen on my hat. (A broad-brimmed sun hat, by the way, is absolutely essential for these kinds of trips, along with wrap-around sunglasses, sunscreen.) Kouryou-chan had bug spray, and she still got eaten-- she had bug bites on her bug bites, some swelled up to the size of my thumb. "Kid," I said, "You have got to turn off your 'Dine in or Eat out' sign!"
Frog in Stream through Berkeley Meadow
Hoary Marmot
Much to our pleasant surprise, there was quite a bit of wildlife. After the disappointment Tuesday of not finding any elk tracks, to actually find evidence of something bigger than a chipmunk was kinda fun.
Our first encounter was with a frog. Big guy, too, bigger than my hand, and obviously not at all alarmed by the presence of the big omnivorous mammals wandering through his terrain. He idled in one of the hundreds of tiny little streams that came off those snowpacks high above, and seemed quite content to hang out in water that hovered about 40F (but in the hot, hot sun) and stare at us going past.
More surprising were the two hoary marmots wrestling in one of the snowpacks that filled shaded pockets here and there across the meadowland. They were big, about a meter long, and wrestling, chasing each other across the snow back and forth. I was the first to spot them and it took some effort to convince Omaha and the others that they were there at all, but once they started wrestling and squealing, they were easy to spot.
Back across the blast field
Mt Rainier from blast field
Blast field south toward Sunrise
Unfortunately, after we'd reached the turn-around point (a primitive campsite in a copse at the far east end of Berkeley Meadow), the mosquitos just got worse, to the point where Kouryou-chan freaked out and started crying a lot. It really wasn't her fault, either, and we didn't blame her. She just turned around and started making her way back up the meadow, determined to climb above the mosquitos. We followed her, and by the time we'd reached the ridgeline the bugs had lightened up, mostly, and we were all puffing hard. We heading back above 6800 feet, after all, and there was no cover at all. By now, it was almost 6pm, we had two hours of daylight left, and had already done six of the nine or so miles we'd set out to do that day. We were exhausted, and Kouryou-chan's desperation to get away from the mosquitos overrode her sense about taking things easy in the high mountain air.
Still, the vistas were gorgeous, there was plenty of cold, cold water, the flowers were beautiful, the weather absolutely divine. With frequent breaks and even some giggling, we made it back across the Burroughs blast zone.
Begger chipmunk
Yamaraashi-chan confronts begger chipmunk
Yamaraashi-chan
The lookout over Frozen Lake is a jumble of rocks that leads up to the protective fenceline, which is nothing more than a set of metal polls and a single strand of cable. Visitors are good this high up. If you made it to Frozen Lake, you're probably not a jerk who's going to violate the park norms and go swimming.
We stopped for a refresh of water and trail mix, and there we met Beggar. He's a chipmunk who obviously thinks he's hit the motherlode. He has the place to himself, and he's gotten used to humans feeding him. He showed absolutely no fear for us, and came right up to the point where he obviously expected to be fed by hand.
We hissed and shouted at him, and at one point Omaha tromped across the rocks to discourage him from coming back, but come back he did, at one point even sneaking up to Yamaraashi-chan's backpack to see what he could find, but after I took this photo I shoo'd him off again.
Yamaraashi-chan insisted I add the third photo because the second one "makes me look dorky."
Then it was finally time to come off the mountain. It was already after 7pm, the batteries in the GPS had died, and we were tired, sore, and bug-bitten. We got back to the trailhead, got into the car, and drove back to camp.
We made hamburgers that night. We were too tired for dessert. We promised ourselves no long hikes tomorrow, and went to bed, exhausted.
No, really, they love my cooking
Silliest RV Yet
While we were there, we saw this silly-looking RV that someone had painted up.
Mt Rainier
Mt Baker
Omaha and Yamaraashi-chan and the Moon
Alpine butterfly
Ladybird on Omaha's finger
Avalance Ridge to Frozen Lake
The walk to Frozen Lake
The walk started on asphalt, of all things, but soon turned to the more traditional packed dirt with broad rough-cut four-by-fours to hold back each rectangle. We passed thousands of flowers on the way up, and Kouryou-chan, who had recently passed the "Junior Rangers Program", gleefully pulled out her little pamphlet and identified each one as we walked past.We got to the top of the ridge to the northwest, and made a left, following the trail markers to a place called "Frozen Lake." There were a lot of people on this trail, and many of them were in the same fix we were: too damned many mosquitos. Despite the bugspray, many of them were getting through to Kouryou-chan, who of our family is the mosquito's favorite target. There must be something about the way she smells that attracts them, because she was fighting them off contstantly.
From the top of the ridge there were clear, beautiful views of both Mount Rainier and Mount Baker, as well as more prosiac views to the southeast that included the downslopes and the resort.
We walked along a high, rocky ridge, gaining altitude, until we came to a vast avalanche field that reminded Omaha and I of the avalanche field we crossed one summer over in Concrete, before we had kids. We had to portage our bicycles across a quarter-mile-wide, unstable avalanche field that summer, and we were both glad that this one had been stabilized, apparently mostly by manual, human labor. "Just imagine," I pointed out. "All of Rome was built that way."
Frozen Lake
Frozen Lake, from the South
Submerged ice floe under Frozen Lake
Lunch at Frozen Lake
We walked up to Frozen Lake, past signs that informed us that this was "Municipal Water Supply" and we weren't to contaminate the lake in any way. I found that somewhat surprising since there were plenty of opportunities later in the water's life to contaminate it one way or another, but this was one of those rare opportunities where environment and circumstance allow you to drink straight from the stream-- snowpacks don't host cryptosporidium, that wretched disease that gives so many overnight hikers terrible stomach pain. Still, the place was roped off and everyone was well-behaved.
We got up to the lake proper and stopped for a lunch of loose-meat sandwiches. The lake is small, for a "lake," but the view is stunning. The air is thin up here, at over 6700 feet, but you get used to it quickly.
Across the blast field to Berkeley Meadow
Family crosses snowfield
View down into Berkeley Meadow
Across the Burroughs blast zone.
The Burroughs blast zone is a high, mountain field scoured with dark grey rocks and packed snowfields that winds its way around a lesser peak until it finally opens up on a ridge that descends, gently at first, down into Berkeley Meadow.
The girls were absolutely thrilled to have snow, and made snow angels, had snow fights, and scraped down below the dust-covered top layer to reach underlayers, which they then ate or, as I showed them later, drank, by scooping my drinking bottle repeatedly through the snow and shoving those scoopfuls down into the bottle.
Descent into Berkeley Meadow
Stream falling down Berkeley Meadow's north slope
Berkeley Meadow
It's hard to describe just how beautiful Berkeley Meadow is, and how hellish. Beautiful, because most of it is completely untrammeled. Most people stop at Frozen Lake and never get this far unless they're serious hikers, and most of them are overnighters, so they're the kind that don't just stomp across the meadow of wildflowers. There's no sign at all of human habitation except for the one narrow trail. It's true wilderness.
Hellish because the mosquitos were just murder. They were everywhere. At one point Yamaraashi-chan counted over fifteen on my hat. (A broad-brimmed sun hat, by the way, is absolutely essential for these kinds of trips, along with wrap-around sunglasses, sunscreen.) Kouryou-chan had bug spray, and she still got eaten-- she had bug bites on her bug bites, some swelled up to the size of my thumb. "Kid," I said, "You have got to turn off your 'Dine in or Eat out' sign!"
Frog in Stream through Berkeley Meadow
Hoary Marmot
Wildlife
Much to our pleasant surprise, there was quite a bit of wildlife. After the disappointment Tuesday of not finding any elk tracks, to actually find evidence of something bigger than a chipmunk was kinda fun.
Our first encounter was with a frog. Big guy, too, bigger than my hand, and obviously not at all alarmed by the presence of the big omnivorous mammals wandering through his terrain. He idled in one of the hundreds of tiny little streams that came off those snowpacks high above, and seemed quite content to hang out in water that hovered about 40F (but in the hot, hot sun) and stare at us going past.
More surprising were the two hoary marmots wrestling in one of the snowpacks that filled shaded pockets here and there across the meadowland. They were big, about a meter long, and wrestling, chasing each other across the snow back and forth. I was the first to spot them and it took some effort to convince Omaha and the others that they were there at all, but once they started wrestling and squealing, they were easy to spot.
Back across the blast field
Mt Rainier from blast field
Blast field south toward Sunrise
Retreat
Unfortunately, after we'd reached the turn-around point (a primitive campsite in a copse at the far east end of Berkeley Meadow), the mosquitos just got worse, to the point where Kouryou-chan freaked out and started crying a lot. It really wasn't her fault, either, and we didn't blame her. She just turned around and started making her way back up the meadow, determined to climb above the mosquitos. We followed her, and by the time we'd reached the ridgeline the bugs had lightened up, mostly, and we were all puffing hard. We heading back above 6800 feet, after all, and there was no cover at all. By now, it was almost 6pm, we had two hours of daylight left, and had already done six of the nine or so miles we'd set out to do that day. We were exhausted, and Kouryou-chan's desperation to get away from the mosquitos overrode her sense about taking things easy in the high mountain air.
Still, the vistas were gorgeous, there was plenty of cold, cold water, the flowers were beautiful, the weather absolutely divine. With frequent breaks and even some giggling, we made it back across the Burroughs blast zone.
Begger chipmunk
Yamaraashi-chan confronts begger chipmunk
Yamaraashi-chan
Beggar and Home
The lookout over Frozen Lake is a jumble of rocks that leads up to the protective fenceline, which is nothing more than a set of metal polls and a single strand of cable. Visitors are good this high up. If you made it to Frozen Lake, you're probably not a jerk who's going to violate the park norms and go swimming.
We stopped for a refresh of water and trail mix, and there we met Beggar. He's a chipmunk who obviously thinks he's hit the motherlode. He has the place to himself, and he's gotten used to humans feeding him. He showed absolutely no fear for us, and came right up to the point where he obviously expected to be fed by hand.
We hissed and shouted at him, and at one point Omaha tromped across the rocks to discourage him from coming back, but come back he did, at one point even sneaking up to Yamaraashi-chan's backpack to see what he could find, but after I took this photo I shoo'd him off again.
Yamaraashi-chan insisted I add the third photo because the second one "makes me look dorky."
Then it was finally time to come off the mountain. It was already after 7pm, the batteries in the GPS had died, and we were tired, sore, and bug-bitten. We got back to the trailhead, got into the car, and drove back to camp.
We made hamburgers that night. We were too tired for dessert. We promised ourselves no long hikes tomorrow, and went to bed, exhausted.
