Northwest Outdoor Sports

Hiking the Cascade Mountains

after 40 Years Away

by James Mikkelson

47.40.57.90N  121.07.38.14W

I grew up in North Seattle in the early 60s before Seattle was really on anyone’s radar as a base camp for outdoor activities. My father moved here from Montana when he landed a job with Boeing, and it was he who introduced me to the woods. We hiked Turtleback and Orcas Nob when there were short ferry lines at Anacortes and you could ride on the old wooden Vashon, drove up the Saulk River from Darrington to hike into Jordon or Granite Lakes before the mountains around them were clear cut. It seemed like there was always a Forest Service road to explore leading inevitably to some creek or lake to fish.

My father hiked out of the way places. One that I remember was up Highway 2, just west of Steven’s Pass. There at 4600 feet and cradled between several mountain peaks were the Murphy Lakes. A reasonably maintained fisherman’s trail led from the base up Scenic Creek to the last steep climb. I was nine years old the first time I day-hiked there with my dad. I was 11 the last time in 1967. Coming from Shanghai forty-three years later, I decided to return to Murphy Lakes.

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I was a little surprised when I downloaded a topography map from http://www.offroute.com/mod2/index.asp labeled “Scenic” and noticed right away that it showed no trail to the lakes. I looked at the Forest Service map for the Snoqualmie National Forest and found the same thing. It actually seemed impossible that no one nowadays would be hiking the 3 miles to view the lake after seeing the population of Washington had doubled from 3 million to 6 million in the forty years. More people are making use of the outdoors, but it seems that they go to fewer places, staying with the herd on the “1oo Best Hikes.”

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Few travelers this Tuesday morning on Highway 2 in early summer meant I could enjoy the hour drive up the same road that saw the first car reach the summit in 1923. I drove through Startup and Goldbar, and made a mental note to stop at Zeke’s Drive In for a peanut butter shake on the way back. Driving past the Baring store and post office a 30-something woman sat in the chair outside and smoked a cigarette. Once past the site of the old Scenic Hot Springs Hotel, built in 1904 and then covered over by the re-routing of Great Northern Railroad’s Eight Mile Tunnel, I looked for the small turn-off that went up to the power line road where I remembered my dad had parked the ’64 GMC half ton pickup. The turnoff was still there, but a gate across the road forced me to park my minivan and walk from there. It was 8 in the morning, and the sun was already drying the dew on the ferns and grass. I started up the power line road searching for Scenic Creek or a trail marker.

Forty-five minutes later I’d seen nothing that looked like a trail, so I looked again at the topo map, figured out where I was, and struck up the embankment on the side of the mountain heading into second-growth timber. There was no trail, and it was steep, rough, and wet with undergrowth and devil’s clubs. My low-cut hiking shoes were soaked already. After an hour of pulling myself up the side of the mountain using huckleberry bushes and whatever else I could find, I started traversing south west where I knew I would run on to Scenic Creek. The forest was green with huge fallen trees and rotting stumps of virgin timber cut a century ago which made walking rough, but the scene beautiful.

I was thirsty after 2 hours of slogging, sweating through my shirt, the soles of my feet in meltdown mode and the first thing I did was set the pack down under a tree, take the yellow plastic cup from the pack and drink from the stream. The water was cold and I had another cup before pushing on.

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Scenic Creek  – All photos by Author

I kept trying to remember the hike being this rough when I went on it with my dad; it sure didn’t seem like it. After another hour of walking over rock slides and deadfall, I could hear a waterfall coming from lower Murphy Lake where it ran into Hamada Lake. The only way up was parallel to the falls with an altitude gain of about 600 feet in a quarter of a mile. It was steep but hanging onto the low brush, I managed to pull my way up over the last rise to the first lake. It was 12 noon.

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Murphy lake

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Though the lake was frozen over except for 200 square yards on the north end near the outlet, the sun was shining and the view was spectacular. Clearly no one had visited the lake in years. That shocked me. Looking to the west side, I could see the same massive boulder I fished off over 40 years ago, and found the old fishermen’s camp on a narrow point of land. The Murphy Lakes seemed banished from group memory and made me reflect on how many other lakes in Washington State have faded from the record.

I hung my wet shirt over a young pine, sat on my hat and ate my salmon cream cheese bagel in my tee shirt, taking my water from the lake and letting the sweat dry off my skin. I was not looking forward to the hike down and wished I had brought equipment to stay overnight.

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Lower Murphy lake

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After resting for half an hour taking in the quiet boulder-strewn scene, I took off to try to find some kind of a trail down leaving my pack and shirt for the time being. What I found encouraged me, and so I hefted my pack and put on my almost dry shirt and started walking down what was once a trail. A snow drift soon covered the narrow unworn track so it was going to be another possibly difficult walk out.

At the crest of the knoll overlooking the lake, I started down the face of the mountain on the other side of the waterfall I had hiked up. What I didn’t know was that just to the west of the lake and in my direct path was a series of rock faces, 40 and 50 feet high with no safe way down. Tired and shaky-legged, I had to climb back up or try to traverse to the waterfall.

Traversing proved almost impossible over the brush on the sheer face of the mountain. Clinging onto an old root sticking up, I was crossing my leg over when I felt the twig break, but I was already on my way down the gully on a bed of wet fir-needle detritus, mud, rocks, and snow. It was impossible to stop myself though my fingers were clawing for any purchase that could be had. Finally, after 40 feet of sliding, I caught my heel in a bank of snow and came to a stop. Muddy and a bit shaken up, I turned around and starting hauling myself back up the near vertical washout trying not to slip again. My arms were aching from pulling myself up for such a long time, and my feet were smoldering with blisters. What was I thinking wearing the comfortable low top hikers.

After 15 minutes of carefully hauling myself back up the draw, I tried once again to traverse to the stream. This time I made it further, and found a steep washout that would serve me for getting down the rough patch. I started down once again, and again my foot slipped out from under me on a wet root just under the fir needles, and I was sailing down the mountain on my back side once again trying to stop myself by grabbing rocks, twigs, mud, and roots and anything that I could feel. This time my foot hit a rock after about fifty feet bending my knee awkwardly and I stopped. More shaken up this time, I stood up, and edged my way further down a snow bank and into the brush. I was finally at the bottom of the steep grade from Hamada Lake to Murphy Lake—about a quarter of a mile that took 45 minutes to cover.

Another hour climbing over deadfall and half stumbling down the valley next to Scenic Creek, I came out on the power line road a few hundred yards from my car. I was hot, legs distilled to jelly, bruised shins and buttocks, sore and blistered feet. I opened the ice chest and grabbed a cold one sitting on the back of the minivan. I felt good. Was it worth it in the end? Well, I never had a chance to break out my fishing rod or hike to the upper Murphy Lake; I never remembered the hike being so steep or rough when I was ten, or the water being so clear; I never remembered being so worn out after a day hike, but I found myself admiring my dad for his willingness to introduce me to pristine places that few people went back then, and even fewer go now.

Editors Note:

First, we wish to thank James for this article, it sounds like a real adventure.

However, drinking unfiltered water from streams or lakes can lead to a completely different kind of adventure. One that involves mostly you and you bathroom, if your fortunate. Between bacterial and parasitical infections, it is always best to pack and use a water filter when you’re in the outdoors.

Hal Sylvester’s

Naming of Lakes -

Icicle Ridge Horseback Adventure 1909

Submitted by Dale Wick, of Icicle Outfitters

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GPS: 47.6361, -120.8613 (Lake Ida)

It ‘s always fun to know a little bit about the places we visit. Understanding the natural history and historic people always enriches the Wilderness experience. One of my favorite places is Icicle Ridge.

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While this article is about Hal Sylvester and Burne Canby’s horseback adventure along Icicle Ridge, it is also about the area and what happened to it in 1909. 1909 was a hot dry summer; forest fires were burning all through the west. Nearly all of the higher elevations of Icicle Ridge burned that summer. Prior to 1909 the ridge was forested. Today all that is left are the yellow cedar logs scattered around the beautiful alpine meadows. The giant fir and spruce trees that once formed an ancient forest have long since decomposed; released their stored carbon dioxide back into the air and nutrients to the soil. Only the cedar logs remain.

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In 1909 Sylvester was the newly appointed Supervisor of the Wenatchee National Forest stationed at Leavenworth. Canby was his District Ranger at Leavenworth. They decided to take a look at the area burned. At the time there were only game trails. The area had been mapped but many things remained undiscovered and unnamed. During his career, Sylvester named 100s of lakes and mountain peaks. In 1909 they were traveling through freshly burned forest but Sylvester’s comments about the trip keep the focus on how they named newly discovered lakes. Today, a large part of Icicle Ridge is known as the “Ladie’s Lakes” or the “Mormon Lakes”. Below is his account of their 1909 trip and how the lakes got their names; written by him in 1943.

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“Place Name In the Northwest”

by A.H. Sylvester 1943

(in his own words)

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Nineteen-nine was a bad fire year, but rather late in its fall Ranger Buryn Canby and I made a trip into the high country of the Icicle Creek Watershed. Trails were very sketchy affairs or there weren’t any. Rather late one evening we camped in a little meadow well up toward the top of Icicle Ridge. It was cold. We didn’t realize how cold until the next morning when we found our meadow heavily covered with white frost. I hadn’t been giving any names thus far on this trip but I called the meadow Frosty and little creek that ran through it Frosty Creek. Packing up we rode to the summit of Icicle Ridge (Named so later) to a fairly low pass which I called Frosty Pass. We turned east along the ridge and hadn’t gone far when we saw below us in a glacial pocket a beautiful lake of perhaps sixty acres. I had with me a copy of the Chiwaukum Quadrangle which covered the area through which we were traveling and turned to it to find the name of the lake, but low and behold, it was not shown. The topographers had missed it. I sketched it in and asked Burne what we should call it. He had two sisters, Margaret and Mary. I said, “we will call it Margaret.” We had ridden but a little more then a quarter of a mile farther when another lake showed up not very far below us but drained down to Margaret. This promptly became Mary.

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We were in mountains-meadows type country now, than which there is none more beautiful. Somewhat tired from several previous hard days we made camp here for a rest and to let our horses fill up on the best grass we had encountered. The next morning we continued eastward along Icicle Ridge which shadows Icicle Creek from its head to its junction with Wenatchee River. We climbed over a slippery shoulder and hadn’t gone far when before us, sheltered under a timbered cliff and glittering in the morning sun, was another lake likewise unmapped and unnamed, Margaret and Mary had a friend, so this became Lake Florence.

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This was getting interesting so I said to Burne, “if we find another we will name it for Mrs. Sylvester.” We rode on past Florence and rounded the shoulder of a little ridge making down from Icicle Ridge, and looked across a wide grassy slope, an ancient glacial cirque at the head of a small branch of the Icicle Later called Spanish Camp Creek from a Spaniard who once ran sheep there, we saw glittering through alpine fir and hemlock the fourth lake already by agreement christened Alice. We were doing pretty well and getting on our mettle. We decided that if we discovered another lake, Flora, the wife of Ranger Green should have it. Our trail led us up through a pass in the main ridge at the head of Spanish Camp Creek where we looked down on the north slope, and there was Lake Flora on a bench breaking over into one of the forks of Chiwaukum Creek. I have seen this lake on other occasions and from other angles, when it’s waters were as blue as the other mountain lakes in the region, but that morning looking down on it from above it was deep emerald green, very proper under the circumstances.

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Eastward from the pass whence we saw Flora, a high sharp peak (I called it Cape Horn) stood in the way of our progress, but looking closely I discovered a trail climbing steep and narrow up to the right. “Somewhat scared we took it, and it led us around the mountain to where we got a view of mountain meadows in the head of another branch of Chiwaukum Creek where nestled in a hollow in a field of barren rock was our sixth lake, Edna, form Burne’s best girl. We made camp in the meadows and thought we had a pretty good day.

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The next day there was considerable difficulty with the trail, but we found a way through and found three more lake. Two of these were shown on the topographic map, but one incorrectly as to size. I named these two lakes Augusta and Ida from my mother and my wife’s sister. The third as the largest we saw on the trip. It lies in a deep glacial cirque on the north side of Cashmere Mountain as an elevation of about 5500 feet. I do not wonder the topographers missed it. The point from which we saw it is a high peak on the Icicle Ridge from which we looked straight up the canyon in which it lies. I doubt if it can be seen from any other vantage point. I named it Victoria from England’s queen.”

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That ends the lake finding and naming for that trip. I have gone into it at such length because it marked the beginning of a practice we followed on the Forest for years. There are approximately 150 lakes and ponds on the Forest, some of the smaller ones not yet named. The numbers of ladies’ lakes grew until practically all rangers’ and other Forest Service men’s wives, sisters, sweethearts, mothers and daughters had lakes named for them. There is a good story in me in connection with the group of lakes in the naming of which I have just gone into detail. After the names got on the Forest map and began to be known, a group of men from Cashmere, game enthusiasts, went out to plant the lakes with trout fry. Near Lake Flora they found still another lake which I and other forest officers had missed and which was neither named nor shown on the map. “Huh!” said Jack Gonser, “This must be Lake Brigham”. When they returned they told me of it with great glee. I told them, “Fine, it shall be Lake Brigham”. Now Brigham is on the map.

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Some might guess that the fishing would have been great in the high mountain lakes in 1909. No fish, the high lakes were barren.

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Today’s lakes have fish only because someone put them there. Twin Lakes just north of Lake Wenatchee is the only lake that had a native population ; those lakes are now used as the brood stock for all of the cutthroat trout planed in our mountain lakes. The Washington Department of Wildlife plants some of the larger lakes from the air using either airplanes or helicopters but many are still planted by sportsman groups and a club called the Trail Blazers.

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The fish are put in 2 or 5 gallon plastic jugs with some water and pure oxygen. They carried by back pack or pack animal to the lake and released. Today, all of these lakes have trout and provide many hours of enjoyment for fly and spin fishers.

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Tempering the trout for planting – Photo by Mike Quinn

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Hal Sylvester continued to serve as the WNF Supervisor at Leavenworth until the 1930s. He loved the high mountains and enjoyed taking people on pack trips which he continued to do even after his retirement from the Forest Service. His last pack trip was just one year after he wrote the “Naming” story. He was taking some Wenatchee guest on a pack trip that went up Chiwaukum Creek to Chiwaukum Lake over Deadhorse Pass and around to Mary Pass. It was on Mary Pass when his fatal accident occurred. The pack animal pulled back. The lead rope was wrapped around the saddle horn, his horse saddle horse was pulled over, he landed on a pile of rocks; seriously injured. He was carried off the mountain in a stretcher days later and died a few days after that in the hospital in 1944. The largest lake on Icicle Ridge is located just down valley from his wife’s Lake Alice and bares his name; Lake Sysvester.

All Other Photos supplied by Dale Wick – Icicle Outfitters

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High Mountain Black Bears

Chelan County WA

Find Them Feeding On Western Mountain-Ash Berries

By Mike Quinn

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Capitalize on a bear’s propensity for late summer and fall food binging and use a predator call to lure bruin to you.

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GPS: 48.02723-120.82985

I have a healthy respect for black bears, any black bear. I also admit to just a modicum of fear of them. Call it an atavistic tendency or just a condition response to encounters and observations of bears that I’ve made while hunting them over the years. Regardless, my fear is probably unfounded as the chances of ever being attacked by a bear are slight. In fact I probably have a better chance of being struck by lightening or being bit by a rattlesnake. And I don’t fear those things. However, when I’m bear hunting and happen to enter a thick patch of subalpine brush that contains western mountain-ash, loaded with large clusters of orange berries, it can be more than a little unnerving, especially, when I can’t see more than a few feet beyond my rifle’s muzzle.

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High Mountain Bear Country – Photo by Mike Quinn

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Many times while bear hunting I’ve penetrated some distance into a thicket of brush only to hear a loud crashing noise nearby. Later, sometimes minutes, sometimes as much as an hour later; depending on how extensive the brush is and the surrounding terrain features, I’ve seen the object of all that crashing. Bear! At times I’m amazed at the size, speed and power of the bears that I’ve spooked out of the tangles of mountain vegetation I hunt in. Other times I’m just amazed at where I am.

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Western Mountain Ash

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The respect and amazement that I accord bears is the cornerstone of a long and worthwhile career hunting them in the various remote mountain wilderness’s of Washington State. However, truth be told, I prefer hunting bruin in just two wilderness areas of Washington, the Alpine Lakes and Glacier Peak wildernesses. And for good reason: numerous western mountain-ash shrubs can be found in these wilderness areas.

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Western Mountain Ash – Photo by Terry Spivey Photography

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Western Mountain Ash – Photo by Mike Quinn

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On the east side of the Glacier Peak wilderness, Chelan County bears live well eating lot’s of different foods, amongst them the berries of mountain-ash shrubs when they ripen in late summer and fall.

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I attribute much of my bear hunting success to the aforementioned western mountain-ash bushes that I frequently seek out. Western mountain-ash, Sorbus scopulina, is a large, deciduous shrub with several erect stems that grows to over 15 feet. The red-orange berries, edible to humans yet somewhat bitter, are often eaten by bears where I hunt them, especially if there is an absence of other preferred berries; namely, the Blue and Huckleberry.

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Within the areas that I hunt bears, western mountain-ash shrubs seem to be very prolific. I suspect that lot’s of different natural forces are at work here contributing to the prolificacy of the ash shrubs where I find them, but bears, birds and other small mammals probably contribute to that apparent fecundity. When these animals eat the ash berries and pass them onto the forest floor they contribute unknowingly to re-seeding.

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Remote Pass – Photo by Mike Quinn

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I prefer scouting for and finding mountain-ash shrubs as well as the bears that feed in them, in subalpine forests because that is where I can use my favorite spot and stalk technique for finding bears. Now, subalpine forests are a combination of several forest types, all occurring above 4,500 feet in the Cascade Range. These forests vary widely depending on their age, fire history, and local conditions. Although the climate where I hunt bears; the Glacier Peak Wilderness, is relatively mild, mild enough to allow trees to grow upright, many variables preclude the growth of perpetual forest stands with a closed canopy in the sub alpine zone. Avalanches, floods, fire and insect infestation all contribute to the discontinuity of the subalpine forest zone where I hunt. In addition, desiccating high winds, heavy snowfall, drought and poor soils can also contribute. That’s fine with me. I’ve found that hunting in heavy timber isn’t very worthwhile. It’s the edge where I find big game, bears to be specific.

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Find The Edge

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If I’ve learned one thing about bears and bear hunting it’s to take advantage of the many sub alpine ecotone locations I’m aware of.

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The subalpine zone is rife with ecotones: transition areas between two adjacent ecological communities. In other words, edge type cover. Where one habitat either abruptly or gradually changes to another habitat can be considered an ecotone or a transition area.

I find that wild birds and big game animals, bruin included, regularly move about and feed in edge type habitats. For instance, where a talus slopes (rock piles) gives way to alpine meadows or heavy brush. Another example is where heavy timber has been swept away by a snow avalanche or has been toppled by powerful winds. New plants and shrubs typically spring up in place of the timber that has been swept away by avalanches. Or, in the case of high winds, trees that have blown down and subsequently have deteriorated away. It just seems to me that these kinds of places, the edges of two or more habitats, are more productive than a specific environment is. Such as a large open meadow, huge expanse of forest, large rock slide or burn areas.

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Nevertheless, burn areas are another area I spend an inordinate amount of productive time hunting bear in. This is, of course, if the burn transitions into other habitat types.

Burns often clear climax forests away creating excellent habitat. Subsequently, I consider the transition area between a burn and adjacent territory that was spared the ravages of the fire a transition area. Western mountain ash can and does grow in allot of subalpine habitat and the bears utilize those environments.

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I admit that although I don’t find large numbers of bears in the transition areas that I’m aware of in Chelan County; unlike some areas I know of elsewhere in the Glacier Peak Wilderness, specifically areas in Skagit and Snohomish counties, the Chelan County bears that I do find are quite respectable in size. Most hunters wouldn’t hesitate to harvest a bear here. I’ve also found that most of the bears that I have observed through binoculars or a spotting scope, and the ones that I’ve subsequently harvested, has been large boars. The pleasant weather and large boars of Chelan County are all I need to recommend an adventurous hunting trip for them.

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About Chelan County

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Chelan is the 3^rd largest county in Washington State and much of its sub 3,000 square miles; approximately 100 mile length and 60 mile width, is entirely mountainous terrain. Bonanza Peak, at 9,511 feet elevation is the highest mountain in Chelan County.

Much of the county’s terrain however is sub alpine and you don’t have to resort to technical mountain climbing to harvest a bear. Not that you wouldn’t find bears living in the type of terrain that would require mountaineering skills to get to. They’re there too.

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Chelan County’s climate is marked by extremes although it’s generally dry and relatively mild. Summers are hot and dry with the month of September heralding a change to a cooler temperature regime. Most years the month of October sees the weather transition from generally dry, warm summer like September conditions to the wet, cool and often windy conditions of winter. Accordingly, after the Labor Day weekend I pack my cold weather gear and clothing on hunting trips unless I know the forecast calls for 3 or more days of warm, dry and cloudless conditions.

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Where To Go

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In the Glacier Peak Wilderness east of the cascade crest I concentrate my efforts in the White, Chiwawa and Entiat river valleys. Above 4,500 feet of elevation there are plenty of edge habitats (transition areas) that contain mountain-ash.

In fact, just last season while hunting with two companions in the Emerald Peak area at the head of the North Fork Entiat River, we observed 2 different bears, on the same day, feasting on ash berries. One boar was harvested by a member of our party. It became embarrassingly obvious to us that the harvested boar had recently been eating western mountain ash berries when we secured a tag to this bruin and began the arduous task of carrying him down a rocky slope to the trail below. Indeed, interspersed around the rocky slope was many different forbs and shrubs as well the ubiquitous mountain-ash. The next day while I was hunting in a nearby basin early in the morning I spotted a bear moving down off of a steep talus slope into, you guessed it, a large expanse of subalpine shrub habitat harboring plenty of mountain-ash.

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The numerous piles of scat that I found in the lower part of the basin where I spotted this bear from confirm that the bear I saw had probably been feasting on nearby ash berries. I regret to admit I missed a shot at this bear. In retrospect I’m OK with that since I later redeemed myself by taking the bruin pictured at the bottom of this professorial work.

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In the Alpine Lakes Wilderness area I don’t hesitate to hunt in the upper reaches of Whitepine, Wildhorse and Brule creeks, as well as the Deadhorse pass region below which Larch and Cup Lakes is situated.

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Deadhorse Pass

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When To Hunt

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I hunt bears from the August opener until the end of the season. Why? Because I still enjoy the freedom to, and I can. August and early September is months I basically treat as opportunities for scouting and physical conditioning. Truth is I prefer bear hunting in late September since that seems to be when the bears become hyperphagic, their hides are fuller and finding one is really a simple matter of discovering where they are feeding.

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Circe Long Range Rabbit Call

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The month of October is when a bear hide is luxuriant and in great condition. Hyperphagic, incidentally, is a $50.00 word meaning excessive hunger and abnormally large intake of solids by mouth. This word’s meaning perfectly depicts the bears appetite and propensity for gluttony during the fall months as it attempts to pile on the calories necessary for it to survive the harsh mountain winters. This knowledge, coupled with a $15.49 Circe rabbit in distress predator call has been the demise of several fall bears I’ve aquainted myself with. Furthermore, I really don’t care what kind of dress my predator call wears as long as when I blow on it it sounds like thousands of suffering-screaming banshees. I know my calling is effective and proper when certain scenes from various Hieronymus Bosch paintings leap to my mind whilst blowing a predator call, and the bears come running towards me. And run they do!

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Part of a Hieronymus Bosch Painting – the stuff of nightmares

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Tips, Techniques And Opportunities

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A LOUD predator call that produces the kind of din that would get the attention of Orion himself is the kind of call that I use. And since I want to draw bears from as far away as a mile or more I need a call that makes a sound that can travel that distance. Mythological dieties aside, the ideal sounding predator call is simply one that gets the attention of a black bear; or any predator for that matter, and it probably sounds something like a rabbit that’s had its hind foot crushed in a tailgate or a truck door when slammed shut on.

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Anyway, the sound that such a rabbit should make given an instantiation of what I describe above should approximate the ideal anyway. Moreover, the louder and more pitiful the wailing the calling sequence has the better the chances of calling in a bear is. I also like a call with the option to vary intensity and loudness.

Once I start calling bears I eventually want them to end up in my lap. Well, not exactly but I think you get my meaning. Sometimes that requires toning down my calling after a while to a series of pitiful squeaks and moans. The effectiveness of my calling really has to due with my enthusiasm, and whether or not I can keep from laughing, and from choking on the call. I’m easily given to fits of risibility when calling bears. I guess it’s a guy thing. I like watching Three Stooges movies too.

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Of the bears I’ve harvested over the last 15 years, I have found that they don’t always come running into your lap. But, on enough occasions I’ve seen them do close to that. Oftentimes with foam flecked cheeks flapping from side to side as they run towards me. So, I like to keep an open field of fire in front of and behind me; to all points of the compass really, and especially if I’m hunting solo. I refer you to the first paragraph of this academic piece on bear hunting and the associated emotion fear.

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On several notable solo bear hunts I’ve challenged myself with I’ve simply taken the opportunity to situate myself out in the middle of an open talus slope, kept still and have been successful calling bears to me. On the other hand, while on other hunts, not being comfortable with my exposed position for one reason or another; my fear of bears chewing on or cuffing me being two very reasonable ones, I’ve sat under the relative protection of a beetling cliff to commence a calling sequence and waited for a bruin to show up. It should be understood that the talus slope setup allows me a 360 degree view around my calling position as most talus slopes are quite exposed and open. I usually have some idea with respect to the direction a bear will come towards my calling so I situate myself accordingly. However, this does not mean that a wily old bear won’t sneak in from a blind side or from directly behind or above me. I would add that if a bear doesn’t get my wind it could sneak or run to my position from my blind sides in an attempt to confirm the odor and chew on of what it thinks is an easy meal.

However, in the past when bears have gotten my scent it’s been game over. Immediately! It’s time to setup somewhere else.

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All the same, if a bear doesn’t get my scent and makes its way to the talus slope from a blind side I take advantage of the fact that talus slope rock is notoriously unstable, especially when wet. And, because it is unstable I can usually hear a bear the size and color of a black Volkswagen walking or running towards me due to the clatter and rumble of rocks the animal disturbs as it crosses the slope and closes the distance.

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On those few occasions that bears have run towards my position, wherever I’ve happened to be setup, I believe that they were simply running to get at or claim an easy meal before another bear beat them to it. I don’t accept that a bear would stick around if it smelled me or realized what I was sitting in the middle of a talus slope, an open basin or under the beetling brow of a cliff face. My convictions have been reinforced by several experiences that black bears turn tail and run when they detect human danger.

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Only once in 15 years of hunting bruin has a large bruin not appeared to give a woof or huff about me, this, incredibly, after firing a shot at it and missing.

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Bear Basin  – photo by Mike Quinn

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The incident occurred after I had called it in from over half a mile away where it had been feasting in a wide open subalpine meadow slope covered in huckleberries. I’m no botanist nor do I claim to be, but the berry appeared to be the low bush variety commonly known as Cascade, or, the Latin Vaccinum deliciosum. Regardless, here’s what happened in that incident:

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I had just finished a short but loud predator calling sequence after previously spotting two nice boars; one very large, feeding on the aforementioned berry slope some distance from my calling position, this, in the middle of a large open talus field.

When I ceased my calling in order to observe the reaction of the bears through my spotting scope I took notice of them both, still in plain view. Then, I took the rare opportunity to observe their reactions to my having called to them.

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The smaller bear paid no attention to my calling at all and simply continued to feed on berries as if it hadn’t even heard the calling. The other one however, the larger of the two, immediately reacted when the calling ceased. Upon cessation of my calling sequence it quickly turned and ran towards the other bear, maybe 10 yards distant, and delivered a haymaker swat to its shoulder. “Well, that’s not something you see everyday,” I thought to myself. “What an aggressive bear.” Immediately after delivering the haymaker the bear that was hit ran off down slope and out of sight. The larger bear however immediately took of at full speed directly towards me.

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A little twinge of excitement, nay, fear impinged itself in my consciousness and I prepared myself for another calling sequence to keep the bear interested in coming my way. I figured that if I didn’t keep up the calling the bear would simply lose interest or not be able to later pinpoint my location. So, I blew on my predator call again for another minute or so. The one that makes the sound of the dying rabbit; you know, with its foot crushed in the tailgate of my truck. Yep, I really put some feeling and enthusiasm into my calling then. I was pretty certain that the bear had a fix on my location, but I realize it’s important to keep calling once a sequence has commenced so that the bear doesn’t lose interest and move off. This one was INTERESTED! Boy Howdy!

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When I had judged that enough time had gone by for the bear to make it to within 100 to 150 yards of me; to the bottom of the open talus slope I was on, I picked up my rifle, a model 70 Winchester in 7mm Remington Magnum, and got ready to locate the bear through my rifle scope when it popped out. I was using hand loaded cartridges but was fairly new to the whole reloading gig. I was hoping that my hand loading had been efficient since I had been experimenting with “partial sizing” of the cartridge cases as opposed to full length re-sizing.

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These hand loaded cartridges, I would soon find out, would be occasion for more than a modicum of adrenaline to surge through my system. The fact is, after re-loading the cartridges, but prior to the bear hunting trip, I had failed to cycle the finished cartridges through the rifle magazine and into the chamber of the rifle to check for proper fit.

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I’ve since learned the importance of checking rifle cartridge fit, and if they will cycle effortlessly in my rifles prior to bear hunting trips. This important check is now always, without fail, conducted by me long before, just prior to and several times during bear hunting trips. This regime assists my delicate emotional state and prevents the recurring nightmares and bouts of fear I have regarding the Ursine tribe.

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When the bear finally showed up below me the wind was perfect, blowing towards me and away from the direction that the bear had just come from.

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Pressure Ridge Track  – photo by Mike Quinn

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I spotted him coming out of the mountain ash tangle and other tall shrubs that had provided him concealment. The bear furtively stepped onto the open rocks at the base of the slope I was situated on, and I mean directly below me. In retrospect, it defies credulity how accurately that bear had pinpointed my location in the rocks from 3/4 miles away. Especially given that on my second calling sequence I could not see the bear. I assumed that if I couldn’t see it, it couldn’t see me. But, hear me it did!

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As the bear took its first steps out of the brush tangle and onto the open talus field I lifted up my rifle; put the scope reticle junction on the top of his shoulder, snicked the safety off and squeezed the trigger. Ka-Boom!

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On the occasion of my shot I immediately realized that I hadn’t hit the animal and my shot had been too high. In the excitement of the moment I had forgotten to compensate for the steep angle of the downward shot at the bear and had, as a consequence, shot clean over him.

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Moonset Pass – photo by Mike Quinn

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Just then my proclivity towards fearing bears kicked in, my fear of this one in particular had just grown exponentially given this bears proximity to me, and that he was still moving up to my position in the rocks. Oh, and because my rifle had now jammed with a stuck cartridge in the chamber.

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As I attempted to extract the spent and now stuck 7mm cartridge and cycle a fresh one into the chamber I happened to look down and see that bruin had finally slowed his approach. If that bear didn’t have my attention prior to that 7mm barking and then jamming it did now! I had always wondered just how I’d handle a dangerous and panicky situation. Never in all my years of hunting or mountain climbing had I an occasion like this one. I realized right then that I had led a pretty boring life up till then. Bye the way, this incident is the closest I’ve ever come to throwing away a perfectly good pair of undergarment and soiled hiking pants. I’ve heard and read about this sort of thing happening but lucky for me I’ve never suffered this ignominious distinction.

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Also lucky for me the bear FINALLY turned and realized that the thing up in the rocks, yelling and wildly gesticulating wasn’t quite what it had bargained for. Calmly picking up my pistol, brought along for just such an occasion, I fired 5 rounds in the general direction of bruin to convince him that his meal wasn’t anywhere near my position in the rocks. Whew!

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When calling bears I often bring in coyotes, deer, bobcat and other animals within shooting range. Consequently I always situate myself downwind of the direction where I expect a predator to come from. I’ve found that when a bear or any predator gets a whiff of my scent that the game is over and the animal will run as if it had been shot at. I also keep up the calling sequence for at least 30 minutes. If no bear comes in after 30 minutes of calling I move on and setup somewhere else. The key is to find another basin, slope, burn or ridge with those mountain-ash berries.

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Use enough gun is perennially good advice. I think a sensible minimum is .270 caliber and up. More important though is shot placement with a premium controlled expansion bullet with excellent penetration characteristics. The Nosler Accubond, Barnes Triple Shock X bullet and Swift Scirocco II’s can’t be beat. I’ve taken bears with them all. Shot placement is simple; for bear, an animal with heavy shoulders and leg bones and fantastically solid muscles, nothing beats a shoulder shot, or, immediately behind it. When well placed shots to heart and lungs are achieved the result is quite fatal. The bottom line is that I want to both anchor a bear and devastate its heart and lungs. Period. I’ve easily recovered all bears that I have ever shot, and they’ve all been taken in the described manner.

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Taking Aim- Photo by Mike Quinn

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Now, don’t get me wrong about bears, they’re not pushovers, I work hard to get mine from time to time. Still, they are not impossible to hunt and collect either. Bear hunting the way I do it represents a great challenge, if not by simple virtue of the terrain I find them in when hunting in mountainous Chelan County. Lastly, they are not to be feared and here’s why: Anyone with the skills, training and experiences that allot of hunters possess, who are able to rely on reflex, their basic instincts, intellect and judgment to make decisions can enjoy bear hunting and collect a trophy. I’ve learned to convert my infrequent alarm of bears into gainful action. And, since the higher faculties of my mind produce the alarm I associate with bears, my fear of them is subject to its influence and how I deal with it. Like the time I dealt with that bear in the rock slide when it almost ate me.

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Bear from the fall of ’08- Photo by Mike Quinn

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Therefore, I trust in my skills, self discipline, experiences, self-confidence, and most important seeing through to the end my very achievable goals and objectives. There is just something indescribably rewarding about wilderness bear hunting. And, when on occasion you earn a trophy black bear by your own toil and resourcefulness it’s like another shot of adrenaline; the tyranny of success is addictive when you harvest one.

Mike Quinn is Chairman of the Board of Trustees of theTrailblazers

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Damfino Lakes

Whatcom County WA

by Mike Cox

GPS 48.95515 -121.79364(Google earth)

The quiet old hemlock forest and the solitude of Damfino Lakes is welcoming to those who love the outdoors. This quite setting is only a short summertime walk from the trailhead. Damfino Lakes is the starting point for many destinations in the North Cascades. As lovely as the lake setting is, the attraction for most people visiting this area is the drive up Canyon Creek Road. You will travel this little road for 15 miles, back to the trail head.
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A good part of the 15 mile road to the trail head is paved.

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On State Highway 542 (Sunset Drive in Bellingham) (Also called Mount Baker Highway) go east, about 1 ½ miles past the Glacier Ranger Station to Canyon Creek Road on the left. The single lane paved Canyon Creek Road climbs quickly. Pullouts offer safe places to stop and enjoy the view of Skyline Divide and Mount Baker across the deep Nooksack River Valley. The road has a few rough spots just before the bridge across Canyon Creek at about 7-1/2 miles from the highway. It is not paved all the way, but is in good condition.
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Driving adventurers can take the steep rocky road to the left to explore the west end of the Canyon Ridge trail or the east flank of Bald Mountain. The main road to the right passes over old pavement and becomes gravel as it ascends the Canyon Creek Drainage. To the south (right side) of the drive, views of distinctive Bearpaw Mountain reveal the overhung “claws” of this well-named peak and hint at the beauty of its rocky face. Various turnoffs to the south lead to approaches of Bearpaw Mountain, Bearpaw Mountain Lake, and Church Lake.
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parking lot at the trail head – forest parking pass is required

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The trailhead at 4,200 ft elevation enters a deep dark Hemlock and Douglas fir forest. About a mile in there is a junction to the left indicating connections with the Boundary Way and Canyon Ridge trails. Then it opens up to rough wooden walkways which go around the lakes with open sky and the cola colored lakes, a nice contrast to the heavy forest on the mountain trail.

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Easy to follow trail into the Hemlocks

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An old soldier along the trail

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Trail side flowers

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Deep forest

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Fungus on the trees

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The little lakes (ponds) are filled with salamanders, like the mud puppies found in the southwest Colorado River, down in Arizona. I was surprised, as I had never seen any at this altitude and this far north. The banks surrounding the lakes are filled with tracks of all sorts of forest wildlife. Deer, bear, cougar, and countless rodent and bird tracks. Great fun to spent a little time, watching the lakes and the many animals that visit.

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The start of the boardwalks

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Cola colored ponds

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Mud puppy or Mud Dog. This photo is from Wikipedia, but it is very similar to the brown salamanders in the Damfino Lakes

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Smaller of the two ponds

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The boardwalk circles the ponds

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More trail side flowers

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The wetlands around Damfino lakes

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The trail continues up to Excelsior Peak, Excelsior Trail (from Mount Baker Highway), and the High Divide trail system.

Cedar and Pine Lakes

Whatcom County WA

by Norman Senour MME

GPS 48.403366 -122.264321

Just south of Bellingham WA there are a couple of beautiful lakes called Cedar and Pine. They are on Chuckanut Mountain. From I-5 in Bellingham, take the Fairhaven exit and go west. Turn left on 12th St and follow the Chuckanut Drive (SR 11) and go south 1.3 miles and turn left on Old Samish Hwy. The trailhead will be on the right in about 2 miles. The trail is well marked, well maintained and is a very rewarding destination. There is no fee for the parking lot. Look for the sign.

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Parking Lot Sign

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Trail head sign with map

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The trail to the lakes is steep, and goes strait up the hill for an elevation change of about 1300 feet in 2 miles. Make sure you are in that sort of shape for this hike.

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Steep but well maintained trail

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Trail sign with mileage markers for many points

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There are rustic camping areas at both lakes. The Wildlife Department frowns on campfires though.

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Good camping for overnighters

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Cedar Lake

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Take your fishing gear if you are in to that sort of thing. The WDFW stocks the lakes with 500 to 1000 coastal cutthroat trout every spring. These are wild lakes and you will lose some tackle as there are plenty of things to snag your line. But in the summer evenings when the the bugs come out, the water boils with hungry trout…big fun for all, except maybe the bugs.

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Year around destination

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This is a year around destination as the snow is usually minimal to none on this trail during winter months.

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Trail Map

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County Map

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Google Earth View

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Rainy Lake

North Cascade Highway

Rainy Pass, Washington

by Norman Senour MME, Ferndale WA

GPS: 48.50301, -120.73503

Great hike with impressive alpine views of a mountain lake that would take miles to see anywhere else. Rainy Lake is a round trip of 1.8 miles on a nearly level paved trail through fragrant mountain forest and alpine flowers like the Lupine seen in this picture.

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Comfortable benches allow any traveler to enjoy and unhurried walk with time to simply sit and enjoy the forest at several stops along the path. Once at the lake, benches allow time to rest or enjoy a picnic.

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Views from the Rainy Lake include a classic mountain “cirque” or bowl shaped end to a valley with mountain ridges and Lyall Glacier on the upper slopes providing abundant water to feed this pristine Lake.

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The upper ridges above Lyall Glacier connect Frisco Mountain (7760 feet) with Rainy Peak completing a continous ridge that encloses the lake. No special shoes or hiking gear required to make this gentle, rewarding walk in the heart of the North Cascade Mountains.

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This is a “fee” area for trail head parking, so get a daily pass(National Forest Recreation Day Pass) for $5 before you go at a Ranger Station or retailer like REI. You pay that much for a fancy “latte” any way, so skip it, you’ll be so pumped getting to the lake you won’t miss the caffine or the parking fee.

You may coose to buy a pass online at $5.00 for daily or $30.00 for an annual pass. http://www.naturenw.org/store-passes.htm

Mountain snows are deep here, so this Pass closes when the DOT feels it is no longer safe or practical to plow. Check with Rangers in Sedro Wooley for travel in Fall, Winter or Spring. 360 854-7200 or 360 856-5700. Web site for North Cascade Hwy #20:

http://www.wsdot.wa.gov/Traffic/Passes/NorthCascades/default.htm

Hiking Point Whitehorn Marine Reserve

By Mike Cox of Ferndale, WA

Location :GPS: 48.88477, -122.77841 – See Google Maps

Hiking is one of my favorite Northwest Outdoor Sports. The journey and the destination are the whole point. In Whatcom County, WA a new park was just opened in May of 2009 – Point Whitehorn Marine Reserve. It is a 54 acre park with a ¾ mile trail that leads to over a mile of public tidelands. The sign at the trail head says a “rich experience in nature awaits those who walk” this trail. This is an understatement.

First you should know that the ¾ mile trail is great for everybody. Almost flat, smartly maintained gravel path with sturdy bridges crossing over any unevenness in the road. These bridges create catch basins for the rain and are great place to slow down and look for local wildlife. The trail is smooth enough for wheel chair access, for those who are up for it. Anyone who wants to go for a walk in the woods and get a great view of the Strait of Georgia and the San Juan Islands as payment at the end of the path, will love Point Whitehorn.

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While it is not old growth, it is a beautiful forest trail. Trees from Douglas Fir and Western Cedar, to Birch and Poplars, with the lush under growth famous on the west side of the Cascades. Lots of berries and ferns cover the ground on every side of the trail. They went out of their way not to disturb anything unnecessarily when this trail was installed. It’s truly a treat to behold. Old dead blow downs and moss covered stumps stand out in the countless colors of green and yellow as the sunlight weaves its way and is filtered from the canopy down to the forest floor through the needles and leaves. Red berries and blossoms give the trail a splash of contrast.

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The air is very invigorating on this trail and is rich with the smell of lots of vegetation. The sounds of song birds is constant, and soothing. Several times the cry of a Red-tail Hawk or Bald Eagle can make you raise your head and try and spot its owner. There is even the hammering away of the Pileated Woodpeckers working on the trees overhead. It’s quite common to see Squirrels, Raccoons, Opossum, and even Pacific Black-tail Deer. So keep you eyes and ears open.

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Turn it up and listen to the song birds!

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Near the end of the forest trail there are several small alcoves with polished granite benches for those who want to sit and look out over the Straight of Georgia and enjoy the view of the San Juan Islands across the water. There are five such view points, four with stone benches. At the end of the forest trail is the beginning the beach tail. Whit a warning sign “Hikers only beyond this Point”.

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It takes about a three hundred and twenty yards and drops about 60-80 feet down the forested bluff to the beach below. Not ridiculous, but not too kind for the trail challenged.

Link to tide charts

At high tide, the water comes almost to the base of the trail. Not much to see or do. There are rocks at the bottom of the trail, pushed up by the waves during storms. There is a nice sitting log at the base of the trail for those who need to catch a breather before going back up.

At low tide, however, it is a great treat, so check your tide charts before you go. You walk over the rocks to a sandy beach with more than a mile of tide pools and the occasional kelp covered boulder to examine.

• Purple Sea Stars (starfish)

• Anemones

• Dungeness Crab or two.

• Pacific Blacktial Deer playing on the beach, (I’ve been told they eat the seaweed for salt and Iodine)
• I even saw what appeared to be baby Ling Cod, (Do not know that for sure, but it was a treat to see them.)
  

Great if you have kids. Great if you don’t. My wife and I spent hours checking things out before going back up to the fores trail on the bluff. We thought it was more fun that the Aquarium.

Watch the volume, it was a little windy!

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Move the cursor over the picture to see the caption.

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Point Whitehorn Marine Reserve offers one of the most diversified little walks I can remember. From lush forest full of wildlife to a fine tide pool show. The journey was delightful and the destination was worth the time and then some.

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Click below for the official map on the Point Whitehorn Marine Reserve

Point Whitehorn Map