Rain protection quest

In the endless saga of trying to stay dry in the Pacific Northwest rain, I've just made another purchase, because these two (Fred and Diane) had an advantage over me in the second half of last week's hike: jackets made from eVent fabric. In this picture we are all dry and not wearing any rain gear, because the first half of the day was pretty darn perfect hiking weather. However, the second half was another story. I had a raincoat and poncho with me in that backpack, and before we had returned to the cars, I was drenched from one end to the other. Fred and Diane stayed relatively dry. She's wearing rain pants in this picture, which she wore from start to finish, but when the rain began she put on her eVent jacket and stayed dry. Not only from the outside rain, but she also didn't sweat so much that she got wet inside from trapped perspiration. I know, I know; this is what Gore-Tex is supposed to keep from happening, but I've never had a raincoat that really worked as advertised. The eVent fabric is designed differently, and they explain here about how we sweat. I read the specs and went to REI to purchase a very pricy raincoat.

Maybe I can try it out here in the shower to see if it works. No, I suspect I'll have plenty of chances coming up soon. This is REI's Kulshan Jacket. I had to order it from the warehouse so that I didn't have to choose the neon lime green one, the only Medium in the store. It's got a nice hood and there's enough room underneath for me to add a fleece lining. I read the reviews and most people liked it, but some weren't happy with the zipper. I mentioned that to the salesperson as I checked out, and he told me he thinks that was last year's design. The good thing about REI is if I don't like it, or if it doesn't work as advertised, I can take it back and get a full refund. Other reviews of the fabric were very positive.

I'll let you know how it works in future posts. I didn't think I would ever be anxious for more rain, but...
:-)

Bright and beautiful Lake Ann

We didn't go where we were scheduled today, us Senior Trailblazers. The day dawned clear and cold, and we decided to head up to Lake Ann, which has been unavailable all year because of the late snow. But some friends had successfully reached the lake, so eight of us headed up the Mt. Baker Highway to the end of the road. We couldn't get all the way to the trailhead, so that added an extra mile to the hike, but it was worth it. Look at the clear sky! When we got to the parking lot, it was so slippery that we had to take precautions not to fall, but once we got into the sunshine, most of the ice melted away (most, not all; we had to watch every step).

This trek covers more than four miles before you reach the lake, but it's an interesting one: you start and end at the same elevation, descending almost a thousand feet from the trailhead, cross a beautiful and wet valley, and then begin a rocky ascent to Lake Ann. Here you can see the lake, and it's already frozen, mid-October. It looks like it never cleared completely all year. If you enlarge the picture, you can see that the middle of the lake has last year's snow still present. What an unusual year it's been: we saw fall colors as well as summer lupines that had just surfaced from the snow.

We had several exciting stream crossings, and sometimes we got a bit damp, but nobody got hurt. We were careful to take our time. The snow in the above picture behind the hikers is left over from last year, and it is obviously not going to melt, since this year's snow was already fresh on the trail. In the summertime, when we've done this hike before, it's so exposed to the sun that it tends to be very hot and uncomfortable as you navigate the rocks when you are gaining elevation. Today, every time we were in the sun it felt great.

This picture of Diane and me, taken by Peggy, shows our lunch spot, with two glaciers on Mt. Shuksan behind us: about even with the top of Diane's head and to the right is the Lower Curtis Glacier, and the Upper Curtis Glacier is visible just below the peaks in the middle. Several long-time hikers noticed the decrease we can see in the glaciers, just in the last decade or so. The first time I came here two years ago, I was able to hear glaciers breaking away (calving), and they are disappearing amazingly rapidly.

The eight of us spread out and sat in the brilliant sunshine, no breeze at all, and enjoyed our lunches. I was pretty tired by the time we got here, and I knew that we had another four-and-a-half miles and plenty of elevation loss and gain to travel before we reached the cars, but at this point it was a magnificent place to be, filled with laughter and camaraderie. I was happy and content as we began our descent.

If I didn't know better, looking at this picture, I'd think we were a bunch of intrepid explorers in the trackless wilderness. However, every time we weren't sure of the trail, we asked Steve, who has more experience in this environment than all of us put together. He has climbed all the peaks many times, camped here more times than I can count, and told us he was very happy to be out and about with us today. It was a bright and beautiful day, one that I will remember for a long, long time.
:-)

A little bit of everything

Al sent out an email to all the Senior Trailblazers on Saturday to see if anyone might be interested in one last "extra" hike into the southern part of the North Cascades. South to us here in Bellingham, anyway. Another long day with two hours of driving to get there and two hours back, and the daylight hours getting shorter and shorter. Four of us decided that Sunday (instead of Monday) would give us the best possibility of decent weather, so we headed past Marblemount to Hidden Lake Peaks. This picture shows the tantalizing first views we got as we ascended into a meadow after climbing in mist, with occasional punctuations of sun. We were hopeful.

The higher we climbed, the more spectacular the views. We had crossed the meadow in the lower right to see some magnificent vistas. But the higher we got, the more the trail changed to rocky outcroppings, and then we saw it: where we were headed, a Forest Service lookout cabin on the tippy-top of a huge pile of rocks!

Taken with my telephoto lens, this pile of rocks looks impossible to climb, but we followed helpful cairns and wrestled with vertigo as we got closer and closer. Al took the next picture, and it was so incredibly dramatic and showed what we were dealing with that I asked him to send it to me.

On the right is the "trail" we followed to the cabin, and although the sky looks like it is clearing, we were at more than 6,000 feet of elevation (we were just below 7,000 at the summit) and looks can be deceiving at this altitude. And yes, that is a rather uncomfortable drop-off to the left. It was important to go slow and carefully. A look to the left of this picture and you could see Hidden Lake (my picture).

We were all finally at the lookout and had a quick lunch in the sheltered cabin. It's another one of those "first come first serve" places where the first group to arrive can spend the night, while others would need to descend somewhere else, like around the lake. Here's Al coming in the door:

Just after he came in to sit down, another hiking group of two entered to join us. One of them was a six-year-old kid (almost seven, he told me) with his father. He is quite an experienced hiker to have gotten up here, as we were all a little nervous about the descent and had pretty much reached our limit of our exertion, along with chills and thrills!

When we started back down, the clouds enveloped us and it began to snow. This made our descent even more harrowing and we hoped to be down off the rocks before it got worse, but as we climbed carefully downwards, it turned to rain. Before long we were all soaked, even with all our rain gear. After about an hour of this, the rain stopped and the sun tried to break through now and then. It never did, and just a half hour before we reached the car, I learned how HARD it can rain in the mountains. Reaching the car and getting warm again never felt so good.

Four soggy Trailblazers had covered nine miles and experienced clouds, mist, fog, rain, snow, exposure to the elements, being scared, being exhilarated, and around 3,500 feet of elevation gain and loss. That's why it was a "little bit of everything," but over our wonderful dinner in Marblemount, we decided we were glad we had missed out on sleet and hail. Okay, almost everything! In spite of it all, it was a great day, and I would go back in a minute... next year.
:-)

One of those unsettled days

This was taken from my front porch this morning. If you compare it to this picture taken last week from almost the exact same spot, you might be able to understand why I was just SURE that the weather forecast for today (fog, then rain) was spot on. I was wrong. The sun is shining gloriously out there right now (3:00pm), but it barely made it into the sixty-degree range (15 degrees C). The sun shining through the fog gave me a good silhouette for the flicker who was dining on the suet feeder.

He's got a bit of suet in his beak. We listen for his call nowadays and keep out of sight through the window so we won't scare him when he comes for breakfast. I do love seeing all the birds who come to visit on our porch. This one (I believe he's the one) was taught how to use the feeder last year by his parent, and I tried unsuccessfully to get a picture of the two of them; he's a bit smaller than the others who visit, which is why I think he's the young one.

After deciding to skip the last swimming class but head to the Farmers' Market for some veggies and then swim afterwards, the sun came out and lifted my spirits. It turned out to be a beautiful day, and I captured this picture while waiting in line for my collards and kale.

The beauty of the fractalish cauliflower in the middle, surrounded by a pink strain of cauliflower, created a picture I couldn't resist. There was a bit of sunshine lighting up the center spiral. Now I am at home, looking out at the same front porch scene that was so foggy earlier. The brilliant sunshine makes me just the tiniest bit sorry I didn't go take my chances at Snohomish, hoping for a skydive, but today is turning out to be a very satisfying one, nevertheless.

After my purchases at the market, I walked over to the YMCA and met two of my fellow classmates in the swimming class, who were just finishing up. I got what I wanted out of the class; I now am able to keep kicking when I breathe and it will eventually become second nature. I decided that the flip turn at the end of the lane is not for me, since I'm not trying to set any records and really don't like all that water going up my nose. And I now can swim the backstroke. It was good to have a professional watch me, but all of those drills are not my style at all.

It's looking like we might be able to get together tomorrow, the Trailblazers that is, and maybe make one last "extra" hike before the snow flies. Al is suggesting possibly heading down past Marblemount and trying for Hidden Lake Peak. Sounds just right to me (9 miles and 3,300 feet elevation gain to a lookout) if the weather cooperates. Since the High Country will be closed to us until spring, and we will be spending our Thursdays hiking close to home, I hope we can do one more. Time to change the batteries in my camera...
:-)

Hannegan Pass and more

We had a hard time deciding where to take the Senior Trailblazers hike today. Although Heliotrope Ridge was on the schedule, the main river has lost its bridge, so we decided to take another trek up to Hannegan Pass. We went there almost two months ago and figured it would be different enough now to make it seem entirely different. (Our August trip to Hannegan is here.) The weather forecast was for clouds in the morning, clearing to at least partly sunny by afternoon. Our first view of the valley looked very promising, as you can see from the first picture. Blue skies, clouds, and perfect hiking weather!

As we made our way to the pass following steep switchbacks, you can see that the clouds don't seem to be lifting. Fred and I went ahead to start our trek up to the pass, with the others interested in heading up that steep summit (1100 feet in a bit less than a mile from the pass) to follow after a short snack. Eleven Trailblazers were on the hike, and many would be happy with making it to the pass (an 8-mile round trip and 2,000 feet of elevation gain), having lunch, and heading back down.

Fred and I started up to the peak, but the weather didn't look like it would be clearing any time soon, and as you can see, the trail was really steep! I was going as fast as I could, but it wasn't much faster than a trudge. There was no view to pull me upwards. We then noticed that nobody was following us, so after a half hour of upward progress, making it up another 600 feet towards the summit, we had a quick lunch and turned around. When we got back to the pass, we found Al and Steve waiting for us; all the others had started back down the trail, as the temperature had dropped precipitously and there was now no sun at all. The four of us began our descent to join the others, and of course the sun began to peek out. You can see the trail (enlarge for the best view) in the sunshine below us. The sun never did come out to play.

You can see that the clouds are now lower in the valley, and we were perfectly comfortable as we headed back out of the wind and altitude. Other than the fact that the views were truncated, and after stopping for lunch everybody was cold, it was actually a beautiful day for hiking. Since Fred and I traveled an extra half mile and 600 extra feet, we covered nine miles and 2,600 feet up and down before we got back to the cars.

I stopped on the way down to take this picture, showing the red leaves and the clouds, typifying the October day we spent together on the trail. At least Fred and I got an extra mile out of it! Now I'm home enjoying my wine and getting ready to take a nice hot shower. Am I lucky or what?
:-}

Epigrams and a book review

From the cover of How to Live by Henry Alford

I snagged this picture of the dog on the front cover of Henry Alford's book How to Live: A Search for Wisdom from Old People. I mentioned this book a while back, but I had bought four different books that day and was proceeding to read through a few of them. This book was started and after I got bogged down in the middle sections, I put it aside.

Yesterday, though, I finished the book and am so glad I did. The book is made up of interviews that Henry had with various elders, some famous and some not. The middle of the book is taken up with the drama of his mother divorcing his stepfather and moving into a retirement community. Although it was interesting, I was anxious to find out what the other books I had purchased were about, so I lay it aside with my place marked. I picked it up again yesterday and read avidly until the end.

After Henry had interviewed all these people, he tried to figure out some way to distill down the information he had gleaned from all his research and went in search of what he calls "elderisms," little bits of information that you don't understand or know about until you're old. He started asking seniors at senior centers across the country and got a few responses, with such wise sayings as, "To get a good look at yourself, take yourself far away." He ran into a cool lady at the Azusa Senior Center in California who calls herself "the funny-sayings lady." She faxed him a list of 24 thoughts and sayings, including "The second mouse gets the cheese," and "Always read stuff that will make you look good if you die in the middle of it." Henry was excited to find more aphorisms like these. Here's an excerpt from p. 245 of Henry's book:

I came across the website of a 75-year-old named Ashleigh Brilliant. (Yes, that's the name he was born with.) The author of such well-traveled chestnuts as "I may not be totally perfect, but parts of me are excellent," ... Brilliant lays claim to being history's only full-time professional published aphorist or — as Brilliant calls himself and the Library of Congress has cataloged him — epigrammatist. Asked once by the Wall Street Journal if Oscar Wilde or La Rochefoucauld didn't also qualify for such a claim, Brilliant commented, "They weren't full-time."

I had run into some of Ashleigh's work before, since he's the one who wrote those postcards called "Pot-Shots," and I have some tucked away in my memories drawer. If you check out the link in the previous paragraph, which goes to Brilliant's website, you'll have access to all 10,000 of his copyrighted epigrams, for a price of course. Although I might be at risk of getting a phone call from him, I'm going to give you a few of the epigrammatic gems I found in Henry's book.

• My life has a superb cast, but I can't figure out the plot.
• I feel much better, now that I've given up hope.
• Life is the only game in which the object of the game is to learn the rules.
• If I can survive death, I can survive anything.

I learned that aphorisms, also known as epigrams or even elderisms, can lighten one's day immensely. The book was fun and revealing, and I did learn a lot about how wise and eccentric some old people are, and it's perfectly okay. It made feel that maybe I'm not such an odd duck; there are lots of old farts who make ME look normal!

:-)

Falling into fall

Sigh. The flowers at the Farmers' Market all have the same look to them, since the summer bouquets are gone. Dahlias seems to be the only ones left, beautiful as they are, but when they are gone, it will be only dried bouquets (maybe a few chrysanthemums) until next spring. Fall is in the air, and many of my blogging friends are posting pictures of the riot of colors appearing in their parts of the country. Here, we are just now beginning to see the maples turn.

Yes, the title of this post was hopeful but alas, not to be. I was hoping to "fall into fall" at the Drop Zone in Snohomish this weekend, but today it's raining and tomorrow has a 40% chance of rain. So I am reluctantly thinking that the season is coming to an end. Here's the Climate Prediction Center's temperature forecast for the next 6- to 10-day period:

This is not hopeful for the next few weeks, at least in this part of the country, but it does mean that the fall colors should pop out reasonably soon. There's always an upside somewhere. The bruise from my flu shot is almost gone and my arm is no longer sore. I'm glad I got it, since everywhere I see people coughing and sneezing already, and it's only October. October! Where did YOU come from? Wasn't it just spring the other day? There's no doubt that time passes much faster when you're older, or at least it sure seems to. Only three more months left in 2011!

This is the time of year when I will be fighting to hold onto my hard-won weight loss. For whatever reason, it's when the chill in the air makes me feel cold most of the time that I begin to eat more. The fifteen pounds I lost this spring and summer will want to creep back on if I don't stay vigilant. There is a reason that the definition of the amount of weight I lost was also known in the U.K. as a "stone."

The stone is a unit of measure, abbreviation st which, when it ceased to be legal for trade in United Kingdom in 1985, was defined in British legislation as being a weight or mass equal to 14 avoirdupois pounds (about 6.35 kilograms). It was also formerly used in several Commonwealth countries. (Web definition)

Carrying it around felt like a stone, all right, and I sure don't want to add it back on. Any ideas about how to keep weight from creeping up during the winter months? Other than dieting, that is. For some reason it seems almost anathema to diet in the winter. Maybe it's time to start a knitting project to keep my idle hands out of mischief.
:-)