Wyeth to green point ridge in the snow.

I've had the same cycle for the past few years: hike from late spring to early autumn - getting into increasingly better condition as the season progresses, and then as the falling leaves become falling rain, and the falling rain becomes falling snow, I shut myself in like a bear for the winter. Unlike the bear however, who spends the winter losing weight, I've always ended up just losing condition, and while the bear emerges in the spring looking svelt, I begin the new hiking season soft and weak, desperately trying to get back what I had.

Not this time around.

There were several reasons I used to stop when I did, but I think the biggest was that I just wasn't properly equipped to be in the elements comfortably. A few small upgrades to your gear list goes a long way, and after a quick stop to REI this weekend to make some last minute upgrades to my hiking arsenal, I was out in the woods making first tracks on the Wyeth Trail.

All the new gear got thoroughly tested on this 9.5 hour 4400 vertical foot climb in knee deep snow, and I was pleased with it all, but the best upgrade ended up being one of the cheapest. I'll never go in the snow without gaiters again. About three quarters of the hike was in deep snow and there were a few stream crossings, but when the voyage was complete, I kicked off my shoes to find bone-dry socks. Managing moisture is the key to being comfortable on any hike, but it's especially important when you're facing extended periods in subfreezing temps.


The day began before dawn. There's so little sunlight in the pacific northwest in the winter that a late start means a dark finish. With my gear packed, and a little food and coffee in my system, I found myself heading east on the 84 while the sun was still struggling to come up over the Cascades. The strong silhouette of Mt. Hood on the horizon, combined with the crisp white outline of Mt. Saint Helens to the north had me hopeful about clear skies and great views from the top of the ridge, but as I got closer to the trail head, so did the clouds. Those are the breaks. The Wyeth trail head is at the back of the Wyeth campgrounds, which have been closed for the year for quite some time. I made a call to the Columbia River Gorge Scenic Area offices to inquire about day use, and was told that parking on the side of the road outside the gates was fine without a northwest forest pass, and that since I didn't have access to the trail head with my car, that the day use fees were waived. So, by 8:00 am, there was a little old Honda sitting outside the gates, and I was on the trail.


The Wyeth trail is one of three options that come together just beyond the trail head. It cuts to the left up a small hill, passes under high tension lines from the Bonneville Dam, crosses a stream, and then just goes up... and up - 4000 feet within the first 4 miles to the junction to Green Point Ridge. The first patches of snow appeared around 1000 feet, but it didn't become consistent until closer to 1500. The first patches revealed that no one else had been on the trail since the snow started. It was nice to know I was alone.


Shortly after, the trail presented plenty of evidence that I wasn't completely alone. Animals make good company though, and I really enjoyed the opportunity to see just how alive the Gorge is through the tracks left in the fresh snow. Most of the larger animals in the area do a good job staying out of sight, so it's easy to start thinking of it as a baron place during the warmer months, but the snow revealed a lot. First, there were tracks from deer. Big deer, small deer, walking deer, and running deer.

A little further up I found these. I assumed they were bear tracks because I'd seen plenty of bear scat in the area in autumn. There are a lot of berries in the area to fatten up on. The tracks showed the bear had come up the hill, paced back and forth a few times over some deer tracks, and then went back from where he had come. It turns out that bear tracks have five toes and leave claw prints. It's mountain lions with four toes and retractable claws. I should have retained more from 7 years in scouts...



As I continued the climb, there were many signs of a forest in transition: brightly colored lichens and leaves that had yet to fall with snow clinging to them, fungus supporting icicles, and the tips of long grasses just barely protruding from the white blanket - reminding me of a person struggling to keep his head above rising waters.

Climbing higher still, I entered a zone where winter had taken a firmer hold, and the reds, yellows, and oranges gave way to grayscale, highlighted only with cool blues when the sun made a brief appearance from behind the clouds. The snow was getting considerably deeper, and I strapped my gaiters on for the first time to help keep dry. In the higher elevations the trail became harder to follow. Occasionally it went into hiding, and without GPS, I was forced to guess at where it was going, only hoping to be rewarded by a cut log or some other sign of trail maintenance to confirm my suspicions.

As the snow got deeper, I began to wonder if I was going to be able to make it to the top. I know from past hikes that once the snow gets too high on your thighs, it's just not worth it to go on - and even if it is, it takes a lot of valuable time to negotiate, and with the short days, I risked getting stuck over night if I spent too long trudging through it. Eventually though, I came to a familiar feature: the top of Wyeth ridge.


On a previous hike, I had photographed myself on the ridge, so on this trip I decided to do the same. The trail on the top of the ridge is short. It heads west a bit before turning south and dropping down to North Lake. Just before the drop to the lake is the cut-off to continue climbing up to green point ridge. This was the beginning of the first section of trail I hadn't previous explored in any other season. The hill was steep, and the snow was deep, but at this point I was well into a rhythm, and kept a steady pace of one foot in front of the other in a meditative trance to the top. There was no longer any trail to be found, and I had given up looking, so my new strategy was just to keep pointed "up". Regardless of how far from my target I'd end up, there was only one set of tracks on the ridge, and I knew I could follow them all the way back to familiar territory when I was ready.



Progress in this section was slow. I had told myself that I had to turn around, no matter where I was, by 1:00 so I could get out of the woods before dark. I knew I was close to the summit of Green Point Mountain however, and my stubbornness not to quit a job before it was done kept me pushing on until 3:00. Technically I did summit the "mountain", but I still left feeling defeated - having not found the picturesque clearing I had seen photos of that, on a better day, would have offered a stunning view of Mt. Hood and the surrounding land, which had been my target for an end point. After backtracking a bit, I saw something maybe 20 yards away through the gaps in the trees that was clearly man made.


Just below the summit, is a little used and rarely maintained trail called Gorton Creek. Other than the trail marker, there was no evidence of any trail under the snow, but finding the sign was good, as it confirmed I had actually made it to what's called Green Point Mountain (but is actually a barely higher point of a long high ridge). From here I followed my tracks back down the way I had come. I took big strides in a controlled slide down the steep hill of high powder, knowing I was way behind schedule to reach my car before dark. Slowly but surely, I did make my way down the steep wall of the gorge. The sun was falling fast, and by dusk, I was still in the snow.

I knew the "bear" tracks where close to 1500 feet, and after that, the snow was thin enough not impede the speed of descent. Then, all of the sudden, there they were: the same tracks from before... but something was different. There weren't this many before - at least not that I had noticed. I paid extra attention to the tracks, and clapped my hands loudly a few times to announce my presence. On a previous hike on Mt. Hood, a group I was hiking with surprised a mother bear with a cub by approaching to quietly. I wanted to give this one some warning. Within a few feet I saw something that confirmed my suspicion: a set of these tracks that where formed on top of one of my tracks from the way up. The animal had been back, and it was last headed in the direction I was to go. I followed the tracks forward for too many yards, but finally they descended down the hill off the trail. At this point it was dark. I had a head lamp with me, so I put it on and continued the descent to my car over the next 45 minutes or so without too much difficulty.

I'm back.

It's been a long time since I've posted anything in this blog, but it recently occurred to me that I've been generating more potential content for it now than I ever had before, and that it might be good to start documenting some of it again.

I still walk or ride my bike to work every chance I get. A small change is that I moved even further from work, so I get an extra 4 or 5 miles in each day, just commuting. The big change is that I've taken to hiking and backpacking in a more committed way than I ever had before; not just for fitness, but for adventure, which I've once again developed a real hunger for.

There have been a lot of changes in my life, and while things have been stressful, getting outside has provided tangible relief as well as inspired some decisions about what I'd like to do with myself in the future. One exciting aspect is the potential for some real freedom in the coming months. The kind I haven't had in years due to work and home life. The kind I could really do something with.

I like to think that I'm the kind of person that follows through with things once he says he'll do them - or at least that's the person I'd like to be. For that reason, I'm not ready to declare that I am going to thru hike the entire Pacific Crest Trail this coming season. There are still too many variables I might not be able to control before April, but that is my hope.

To that end, I have begun doing everything I can to prepare myself for such a trip. I've been rabidly consuming any information about the trail I can get my hands on. I've been training with increasingly longer and more difficult day hikes and backpacking trips. I've been adjusting to what it means to do these things alone. I've been putting myself in situations that are challenging, and then rising to those challenges to be more comfortable facing them the next time around. I've been researching the gear I'll need and making plans to collect it. I've been working out the logistics of putting the rest of my life on hold for so long while I'm gone and saving to pay for it.

But talk is cheap. I'll write more about that when I'm actually doing it.

Lately, the hiking has led me out to the gorge a few times a week, focusing on trails Northwest Hiker labels "very difficult". In the past two weeks, that has meant ruckel ridge, and multiple ascents of Mt. Defiance. Since the last trip is still fresh in my mind and involved a little backpacking, I thought I'd recount the tale here.

My parents had been visiting the town of Hood River this past week, and asked if I could meet them there on their final day for breakfast. I figured this would be a great opportunity to work in another hike, and having come fresh off my first climb of Mt. Defiance, I thought I'd take advantage of the extra car as a shuttle to try a longer approach that started further west in the gorge at the Wyeth Trail Head (exit 51), on a hike that would end at the Starvation Creek Trail Head (exit 55), where most hikers begin and end their Mt. Defiance hikes.

From the campgrounds at Wyeth, gorge trail #411 immediately begins a steep ascent up the face of the gorge through a series of switchbacks that climbs an impressive 3840' in the first 4 miles from river level. At the top of the trail, you continue a short distance along a ridge before descending 500 feet down the south side, which you then have to regain before reaching North Lake.

The following photos were taken during this first section.


Early in the initial ascent, the west end of a switchback terminates at this creek.


This is the last few feet on the way up to the ridge. Most of the trail up to this point was similar terrain, although much steeper.


This is the best photo you get of yourself when you hike alone without a tripod. This is me at the top of the ridge.


Another shot of the terrain on the ridge before the initial descent.


It was very damp on this hike. The kind of fog that condensed on everything and created big drops of rain that originated in the canopy and soaked the forest floor. The variety of fungus that had sprung up this weekend was impressive.

North Lake is great little shallow alpine style lake, similar to the other two lakes in the area; Bear Lake and Warren Lake, which I later passed on this trip. All three are full of crystal clear chilly water, flanked by talus slopes, contain trout, and have primitive campsites on their banks. I liked the campsites on North Lake the best of the three, although I pushed on to Bear Lake before nightfall on this go. North Lake has a small peninsula with a few places to camp on it on the east end. Being on the end gives you good privacy from other campers if they're present. This late in the season I had all three of the lakes to myself, so it wasn't an issue.


A photo of North Lake from the north side.


A trout cruising the shallows on the east end of North Lake.

From North Lake, trail #413 cuts to the east toward Bear Lake and Mt. Defiance. My plan for this trip was to camp at Bear Lake, which would put me in a good position to get up on the Defiance Summit early in the day, and back to my car early in the afternoon afterward. The trail between North Lake and Bear Lake is relatively short with slight changes in elevation until the cut-off trail #413A to get down to Bear Lake, which descends about 100 feet.


This is typical of the climate between the first two lakes.

Descending down into the Bear Lake, I was a bit concerned about the night ahead of me. The forecast was for relatively warm dry weather so I opted not to pack a tent, but everything was dripping wet and cold, and the wind gusts were bone chilling. I immediately decided I'd need to build some sort of structure to stay comfortable until morning. I put together a primitive windbreak near an established fire ring, stashed my gear under it, and collected the driest wood I could find for a fire. With some luck and persistence, I managed to build up enough heat to start burning the larger wet stuff, and to cook and stay comfortable. The wind off the lake carried the hot air through my shelter, and I stayed comfortable in my bag for several hours. Then the rain started. I woke up around midnight, when large drops of water began pounding my exposed face. I did pack a Mylar emergency blanket, which I was able to drape over the shelter, trapping more heat, and providing a barrier against the falling rain. I crunched and contorted to get as much of my body under it as possible, and remained in my cocoon until first light. In the morning, I packed up my soggy gear the best I could, cleaned up the camp, and hiked back out to the the trail to Mt. Defiance.


As good a place to settle as any.


The shelter and the fire.


You must keep warm however you can.


The view from inside the shelter.


The trails the sparks were leaving in this photo illustrate the strength of the wind coming in all night.

Trail #413 from Bear Lake to Mt. Defiance is a straight line cut through the forest, and a steady climb. I knew this trail would take me to the area of the mountain, but I was a bit unclear where it would meet with the defiance trail. Eventually, I emerged from the wooded trail onto a talus slope it looked vaguely similar to a slope just above Warren Lake. It was fogged in and tough to get my bearings, but I had assumed there was a good distance to go to get to the summit. It turns out I was already practically standing on it. A hundred yards or so from that spot, the radio towers sat, obscured only by a patch of trees and the fog. I perched on the rock containing the summit marker, laid out some of my clothes to dry, and sat for an hour or so, facing where Mt. Hood should be, hoping for a view of the nearby peak. The view never came. Twice to the summit of Mt. Defiance in one week, and not a view to be had. Oh well.


The summit marker for Mt. Defiance.

From the summit, I began the familiar descent toward Warren Lake on trail #417, and from Warren Lake I took the Starvation Ridge trail #414, to the starvation ridge cut-off, and back to my car at the trail head. From there it was back to Portland with another adventure under my belt.


Taken from just the below the summit during a small break in the clouds.


Fall foliage on the edge of Warren Lake.

dog mountain

Today I went for my first real hike of the year. I walked 2.1 miles to a friends house, and then we went into the Columbia river gorge to hike to the summit of Dog Mountain and back. We started the hike at river level in southern Washington, and immediately began the steep ascent. There were a fair number of people on the trail, but as we climbed to higher elevations, the crowd began to taper off. At the trail head, cold winds were whipping off the Columbia, and although once we got into the trees, the conditions improved, they quickly deteriorated again as we gained some elevation. Over the last mile of the hike before reaching the summit, the trail breaks out of the trees, and without their protection, we experienced some pretty extreme winds, and at times were steadily pelted with hail. The visibility was poor at best. At times, it was difficult to see more than 30 yards or so due to heavy fog/cloud cover. Still, despite not being able to see the far off views of the gorge and the distant mountain peaks, the conditions provided a unique and enjoyable atmosphere to the trail. After reaching the summit, we chose to take a more steep descending trail than the one we took up; which completed a loop to the trail head. The first mile of the descent was similar to the last mile of the climb, in that we weren't sheltered from the elements; leaving us to deal with considerable winds and precipitation. Once we hit the tree line, things improved again, and we had a pretty easy time returning to river level. On the way back, we alternated between walking on flatter or more technical parts of the trail, and running down the steeper portions. My mr790's really got to shine on the trail running portions. It was hard to call the second half of the trip "hiking", as it felt more like controlled falling, but the constant battle against gravity and momentum proved to be quite a strain none the less. After we returned to the car, we stopped at the walking man brewery in Stevenson for lunch and beer before returning home.

this is from the first clearing. we started at river level, and by the time we reached the summit, had climbed about twice as high as we were at this vantage point.

the forest was really moist from precipitation, snow melt, and fog. there were a lot of neat mosses and lichens on the trail from start to finish.

these plants all pointed towards the sun and could have been mistaken for dead if it were not for the dense buds that tipped each.

this is just as we climbed out of the trees. the fog immediately enveloped us, and got thicker as we climbed higher.

this is the "view" from the summit. Despite the top mile of the trail being exposed, the summit is protected by a small grouping of trees. It was a nice reward to get out the high winds and hail for a few minutes. If the fog hadn't been so thick, this would have been a great view of the Columbia river gorge, with Oregon and Mt. Hood towering over it in the background. Still, the fog was neat to climb in. Every step was a surprise because you could never see far enough to know what laid ahead.

here is a photo of me at the summit. The trail appears to continue climbing from this vantage point, but the end of the trail was a few yards further from this grouping of trees.

taken just below the summit.

on the decent, a break in the fog allowed a brief view of the gorge.

going the distance.

I've been thinking about some more epic walks to take in the future. Walks that are more for the challenge, the glory, and the story than they are for just getting around. I would like to go for as long of a walk as I can in town one day soon, and then figure out what kind of distance I'm comfortable covering in a day so that I can better plan some of these trips. I did about 20 miles in a day a week or two ago. Other than some suffering my feet endured from improper shoes, it was a breeze. I think I could do 30, no problem.

One idea was that I could walk to the walking man brewery. If there's one thing I like more than walking, it's beer, and the name of the brewery just makes it that much more appropriate. It's 43 miles each way. Sounds like a pretty awesome 3 day round trip. I could take my hiking pack, and carry a one man tent, a sleeping bag, and some basic supplies, and camp in the gorge between days.

I just have to wait for the weather to warm and dry up a bit.