Canoeing the North Cascades - To Desolation Peak & Back

After a scouting trip to Diablo Lake in the North Cascades last year, we discovered on the topo that Desolation peak, the same one that Kerouac spent 3 months atop in 1956, was just around the corner. Since reading his Dharma bum adventures in high school, it had become a personal goal to climb Desolation. Evidently the time had come. Nestled just 6 miles south of the Canadian border, the “Easiest” approach to the trail head is via Ross Lake. However, this presented its own difficulties. There is one boat ramp with car access to the entire 23mi lake, and it resides in Canada. Without proper passports, we opted for the alternative. Put in Diablo Lake and portage up the dam to Ross.

The majority of our first day was spent driving up to the North Cascades from Olympia, at least several hours depending on Seattle’s traffic. We hit Diablo Lake in the midafternoon, locked down the truck and hopped in the canoe. There is something about the color of the water of Diablo Lake, a glowing emerald green, it is unlike anything else we’ve ever padded in. This is attributed to glacial flour, or powdered rocks associated with the movement of glaciers. This effect is intensified, as Diablo Lake is bottom fed by the dam, taking the coldest water where particulates have settled from Ross Lake. As a result, Ross Lake has a more normal hue of sea blue, and is also much warmer. That afternoon we made our way across the lake, setting up an early camp at hidden cove. I have to say, camping in the North Cascades is great, our permits were free, parking was free, and at every campsite we stayed (some very remote) they were equipped with bear boxes, picnic tables, and an outhouse. As far as I’m concerned it was luxurious. Especially when it’s a single camp, and you get it entirely to yourself –like hidden cove. After eating dinner we bedded down for an early morning departure to Ross Lake.

With first light we were back in the canoe, and paddling up the narrow canyon to the dam. Here there is a portage service offered that is well worth it. Teaming up with other paddlers, they charged $20 for the mile long trip with 500ft of gain. For single crafts they charge $30.  Being in the first convoy, we dipped into Ross Lake around 10:00 in the morning. We then paddled another 4 miles to our next camp at McMillan. The camp featured a nice long wooden dock that provided great views of the water as far as the eye could see. With fires raging in Eastern Washington, visibility was limited to a couple miles at best.

The going was very smooth as we met little wind and calm water. The days were hot, but jumping in the lake was a great way to cool off. The next day we explored the Devil’s Canyon on the way to our next camp. As soon as we entered the canyon walls, the temperature dropped dramatically and our breath became immediately visible. Everywhere we looked, the water was teeming with fish of all sizes. After a couple of tight maneuvers around a few log jams, we came to a small waterfall, marking the end of our route (see picture below). A couple miles further, and we landed at 10 mile Island, our next campsite. Across the water to the west, one could hear the constant roar of Skymo falls shooting down the cascade’s face. Drawn like a bug to the light, later that afternoon we paddled over and inspected the falls in person.

On day four we continued North to Cat Island. Here we would set up shop for a few days, acting as our base camp to Desolation peak. This is when the wind began making its introductions. The following morning we got up very early, paddled the mile to the trail head and started hiking. The trail was 9.6 miles long round trip, with 4,500ft of gain. It was steep, but eventually opened up into vast alpine meadows that gave views of the lake below, Canada to the north and glaciers to the south. On the summit still sits the same fire watch tower that Kerouac lived in, still used for the same purpose. The ranger happened to be off duty while we were there, so we had the summit to ourselves. We enjoyed it, ate lunch, took pictures and sang at the top of our lungs. Coming back down we drank up the last of our water, making for some thirsty miles. Eventually we came to a small spring in the mountain side, trickling out water with a slow drip. Patience vs. thirst. Probably took 5 minutes to fill a half-litre bottle. We made do, and continued on down the trail. By the time we made it back to the canoe, the wind had picked up significantly creating white-caps on the water. Reluctantly, we slumped into the canoe and began our very slow voyage back to Cat Island.

In the distance, we could make out one other paddler on the water, whom we both assumed was paddling towards us. As we trudged on and came closer, we realized they were going the same way we were, but the wind was prevailing against them. An older women paddling alone, she was barely dipping her paddles into the water. Despite the fact that we were hardly making headway ourselves, we quickly decided to throw her a line anyway, which she tied on to the front of her kayak. We began paddling as hard as we could, despite being exhausted from an already long day. Nonetheless, we made our way towards Cat Island, one stroke at a time. When we made it to the dock, the Women’s paddling companion was waiting for us, leisurely enjoying himself from land. He didn’t seem to pick up on the fact that this women had a migraine, and had zero interest in paddling in the wind any time soon. She briefly thanked us and then laid on the ground and took a nap.

Thankfully we had planned for a zero day on Cat Island. Even better, it happened to correspond with a powerful thunderstorm that rolled through the canyon. We took shelter, and enjoyed a day of nothing strenuous but listening to thunder echo. The moisture also drastically increased the visibility. All of a sudden our surroundings seemed brand new. The moss was greener, the peaks more crisp, the water more blue. However, the wind never stopped blowing against us, making our return south considerably more difficult. We spent another night admiring Skymo falls from 10mi Island, and then continued south to rainbow point. From here we made a day trip up big beaver creek to an amazing old growth cedar stand. Very rarely do I see this level of old growth left in a contiguous stand that stretches for miles. Two miles down the trail, the stand climaxes with 2,000-10,000 year old trees that line the wetland.

Our last day was spent paddling the 12 remaining miles back to the truck. We portaged back to diablo lake with a few canoe enthusiasts, whom we shared good conversation. After making it back to the open waters of the lake, we parked the canoe on a small island and jumped in one last time. We forgot just hold much colder diablo lake is. Jumped in, jumped out and dried off. 10 days paddling roughly 50 miles and 10 additional miles of strenuous hiking had come to a close. Till next time!

Through Paddling the Betsy River

When you drive a canoe across the country, you best make use of it. Especially if it means almost having your topper ripped off by a tornado in Iowa, but that’s another story.

After reviewing a couple local paddling guides, we settled on the Betsy river in lower northwestern Michigan. With ample experience paddling on the Salish sea, and little to none with rivers, we thought we’d start easy. The trip consisted of roughly 40 miles of meandering slow moving river taking us through wetlands and nature preserves.

The trip began at Grass Lake, the headwaters to the Betsy. Parting the bugs and reeds to get the canoe into the river, it was so slow moving we couldn’t determine the direction of flow. After getting our bearings, we made our way downstream honing our techniques for quick maneuvers around tight corners, bends and numerous logs. In hind sight a kayak would have been better suited for this endeavor, but we made it through just fine. The going was slow as we constantly adjusted our trajectory around the obstacles of low water in July. If there was any question about our compatibility as paddling companions, it would have quickly become evident on this day. Despite the buzzing veil of mosquitos that never subsided, we paddled on. Not all canoe side companions were a nuisance however; beautiful neon blue dragon flies swarmed the river in a few sections, occasionally so thick that they would land on our hand and shoulders as we paddled.

We made camp along the river that night, and then paddled another long day. We only covered roughly 20 miles in those two days, but we worked for every one of them. Instead of searching the banks for another suitable campsite, Amanda was lucky enough to have a family friend with property on the river. Unfortunately our only directions were street directions, so after paddling under the nearest bridge, we hiked the canoe up to the road and down the street to her friend’s house, arriving at sundown. After making our introductions, we cooked up some quick dinner and fell fast asleep. In the morning we were treated like royalty, as we woke up to fresh coffee and a vegan-gluten-free breakfast complete with coffeecake, hash browns and homemade strawberry basil jam. On top of it all, Bob & Tina helped us shuttle our vehicle from Grass Lake to our terminus. Feeling good, but reluctant to leave, we loaded up the canoe and continued downstream.

Another long day of paddling was broken up with an exciting find. Out of the decaying roots holding the river embankment, the largest natural reishi colony I have ever seen. In all fairness, I paddled right by it, but upon Amanda’s request to turn around a take a closer look, I was quickly jumping out of the canoe to personally inspect the mushrooms. Known to the Chinese as the mushroom of immortality, its medicinal qualities are too numerous to list. After covering ourselves, canoe and gear is spore dust, we paddled on, spreading it everywhere we went. As the sun was setting Amanda got stung by a flying insect on the neck, and we decidedly made for an early camp. That night we fell asleep to the sound of beavers hard at work, smacking their tails back and forth. Our last day we were able make better time down the river as we approached Lake Michigan. Along the way I spotted Inonotus obliquus (chaga) growing off of a birch looming over the embankment. Determined to take some home with me, I shuffled up the tree, hatchet in hand, and precariously hacked off a few small chunks. Incredibly dense, it’s comparable to stale hard-wood. Satisfied, we paddled our remaining miles, and took out before we hit the urban development of Elberta, where the river is united with Lake Michigan. 

Superior Lakes & Pictured Rocks

          Excited to get to the Upper Peninsula of Michigan for Andy’s first time, we drove straight to the edge of the Pictured Rocks wilderness on the edge of Lake Superior, arriving fairly late in the evening.  We spent the night in the truck on a two-track forest road, got up early the next morning and went into Munising for a wilderness pass. We parked the truck at Beaver Creek, and hiked East till we hit Lake Superior for our first camp. 

         Unfortunately, as we got into camp, I developed a migraine, and had to make camp quickly; the constant bombardment of mosquitos certainly didn’t help. Sleeping under a tarp, I have never been so thankful for the rectangular mosquito net we picked up at the last minute.  The Upper Peninsula’s famous mosquitos are no joke, although I still think Minnesota is worse ;) As I laid down, Andy set to sewing birch bark he had collected along the way, making little bark boxes. Camping next to us, a boy and his father made for very entertaining company. The little boy told us all about his wilderness skills, camping experience etc. consistently reiterating that he wasn’t even a boy scout.  Later that night, the boy came across a little tree frog that he thought would make for an excellent pet. Needing a container for his new friend, Andy gave him the bark box that he had just finished.

The next day, bright and early, we hiked West toward the Coves camp, a short 3 or 4 miles down the trail. As we began to set up our camp and prepare for our day hike to chapel rock, we were surprised to find the boy and his father coming around the corner. The little boy had insisted on saying goodbye before they hiked out, and knowing our itinerary, knew where they could find us. He thanked us again for the bark box, saying it would be the center piece of their fireplace mantel. After saying our goodbyes, they departed for the trailhead while we made our way further down the trail. Another 4 miles or so and we reached our prized destination –chapel rock. Carved out by Lake Superior, this rock out cropping had been disconnected from the mainland, with a large hole carved through the center. Atop of the rock, grew a large white pine, with roots extending through the air back to mainland. One of nature’s finer master pieces, we sat and watched as waves crashed through the rock.

               We hiked back to camp, along the waterfalls and cliff sides, slept like rocks. In the morning we hiked inland to Beaver Creek eventually making it back to the truck. We made our final goodbyes, then headed on toward Marquette and the Western Upper Peninsula.

Sugar Shacks & Logging Camps

Visiting Amanda's family in northern Michigan for a few weeks, we decided to explore the nearby Manitou islands in lake Michigan. While both islands are designated wilderness, the northern island is significantly larger and less developed. The ferry only comes out to this island once a day, so spending the night is the only way to see the land.

We got in around morning and after a quick orientation with the ranger, began hiking to the north side of the island. We had heard rumors of "Potholes" in the bluffs there, where something triggered massive landslides. Supposedly this was the result of some missile tests conducted by the navy.... but who really knows.

The island was homesteaded in the late 1800's by woodcutters providing fuel for the steamers. This gave rise to many of the decomposing monuments we passed along the way. Some old sugar shacks here and there, and at least one abandoned logging camp from the 1900's. After a good day of hiking, we finally made it to the north side of the island, where we promptly set up camp over looking lake Michigan. The next day we got up in search of the pot holes. After a couple of hours of sleuthing around, we finally found what we were looking for. While it was certainly an interesting formation, the real beauty was in the island itself.

We spent the remainder of our days completing the loop around the island. We visited the remains of Crescent city, with pilings running out into lake Michigan and a cleared field as the only evidence of its existence. Underestimating our hiking time, we just barely made it to the dock on the south side of the island, in time to catch the departing ferry. Back to the "modern" world for now.

Bicycles, Backpacks, Thumbs, Mountains and Canyons

Summer time in the desert is a special thing. I took a large group of people camping up in the Pineleno mountains a few weeks ago which was a lot of fun. We played horseshoes, sat around campfires, stayed up late and talked to trees.

When it was time to go, I got dropped off in Safford where I started my next journey: hitchhiking to Canyon de Chelly just below the four corners. I had my bicycle, but it was a secondary form of transportation given that I had three days to get to the canyon, as I intended to meet some friends from California there. The first day was hard, which was my fault. I inadvertently chose a route not commonly traveled, given that I only saw maybe 8 cars that first day. This made getting a ride next to impossible, and I only made 30 of the 370 miles I had to go. Luckily, the next two days, my luck turned around and I made better time. I had to forgo this section of highway during my bicycle tour as it was closed in winter snow, but riding through it now in the back of an open pickup, the forest gleamed white and green, packed so tightly with aspen you could hardly see the sky, freckled with dream like meadows every now and again. It was worth the wait. Day three I made it to the canyon by 10 in the morning. I met up with my friends that afternoon and through a series of fortunate events, was able to backpack into the canyon that night. Our guide showed us a handful of the canyon's ruins, before we set up camp on his family's land. After we hiked out the next day, he prepared the sweat lodge for us before we departed. To this day, I have never felt something so cleansing. You know your warm when you walk out into the the 100 degree desert and it feels like early spring.  As my friends planned to visit the grand canyon before heading further west, I rode south with them before going our separate ways.

A little while later, over the 4th of July, Sean Campbell, Sean Saleh, and myself decided to climb Mount Wrightson where we could watch the fireworks from the summit. Being the tallest mountain in southern Arizona, it provided us with a good perspective. We watched fireworks from Tucson, Sierra Vista, Nogalas, Saughrita, and Sonoita (among others) at the same time. Spent the remainder of the night drinking coco around the fire before we passed out like little babies. I suppose that's what summer is for.

With A Thumb And A Bicycle The Possibilities Are Endless

Going from the South Fork Campground to Alpine Divide Campground. This was by the far the worst day of my entire trip. The morning started out great- as I previously mentioned the sun was shining and my destination was only 30 miles away. An easy 2-3 hour trip I figured. From the South Fork Campground I headed east towards Eagar. The first sign of bad luck struck when a little rottweiler chased me for half a mile down hwy 260. Not the end of the world, so I kept riding. Soon the wind picked up. The worst wind I've ever ridden in. It was blowing so hard, that if I stopped pedaling (going downhill) I would be pushed uphill. Going above 6 mph was out of the question. When I finally arrived at the campground 5 hours later, it was so snowed in there was no way to even get to it. I decided to keep riding into Alpine (another small town) just 8 miles downhill from where I was, and luckily the wind had finally ceased. I got there to discover that the Coronado trail/ hwy 666/ hwy 191 -the highlight of my trip- was closed 30 miles ahead. I was devastated and felt like giving up. Quite frankly, I just wanted to go home. Moreover, Alpine was buried under several feet of snow, and it was now snowing so hard I could hardly see in front of me. Camping anywhere in the area seemed suicidal. At the last minute, with the advice of a guy named Wes, as a last resort I hitched a ride east into New Mexico. I got dropped off a a campground at a lower elevation, and was able to setup camp minutes before the storm got there. It would snow for the next 15 hours.

The next morning when I got up and it was still snowing (after going to bed at 5) I skipped breakfast hoping to find something in the nearby town. So I loaded up my bike and rode an icy mile or two into a tiny little town called Luna. I stopped by the only store in town to buy some coffee before I kept riding onto Glenwood further south. After I bought the coffee and was about to walk out the door, the woman behind the counter offered me a seat next to the heater. I couldn't refuse. I ended up drinking six more cups of coffee, and stayed for several hours talking to this woman. After 11 o' clock I decided it was too late in the day to leave, and so Dianne (the woman working the store) offered me her barn to sleep in. That night I slept like a baby next to the her Alpacas, Goats and Dog.

The Alpacas were awesome, whenever my hands were cold, I'd just walk into their pin and stuff my hands in their fleece. Soooooo warm. The goats were pretty cool as well, although one got his head stuck in the fence in the middle of the night so he was rather loud.

The next morning Dianne gave me a ride into Glenwood and we made our goodbyes. I spent the day in town, went to The Catwalk (a very cool hike if your ever in the area) and then setup camp just outside town at a campground called Bighorn.

In the morning I woke to a man and his dog standing over me. He asked me if I was alive to which I responded, “Yah, still here.” We talked for a little while, his name was Bruce and he had been on the road for 7 years. He was living in what looked like a converted GMC milk truck with his dog Andy. After talking for a while, he invited me to breakfast, which I couldn't refuse. We went into town and he treated me to a nice conversation over coffee and biscuits. Later he told me, that it's rare he ever has someone to talk to, and that he greatly enjoyed my company- that was a great start to my day.

I left Glenwood around 10 o'clock headed for the Blackjack Campground on the Arizona New Mexico Border, right where the rim drops off. During the ride the idea popped into my head that sleeping in my own bed was going to be great. The idea took root and 40 miles later, just before the border, I stuck out my thumb and hitched a ride into Safford. Once in Safford I got another ride to I-10. Once there I got picked up and was home before sunset. It wasn't the ending I had imagined but being home just sounded so nice- and it was.

Total, I rode my bicycle 400 miles and traveled 600 with a maximum elevational displacement of 8000ft, and end the end, every mile was worth it. It's not to say that there weren't hard times, but that is just a consequence of “Adventuring.”

Sorry that was a little novel-esk but here are some pictures for those of you with shorter attention spans.
These include pictures of my campsite outside of Luna, before and after the storm, the Alpacas, the dog Mishamar, The Catwalk, and a photo I shot on my way out of New Mexico. Thanks for following!

Rim Country

Payson to Show low/ Pinetop was quite uneventful. Getting up the rim turned out to be much less difficult than getting to Payson. I spent my birthday riding out of a little town called Heber. Unfortunately this is the area that was heavily damaged from the rodeo-chediski fire back in 2002, and due to all the snow melt during the previous week, everything was muddy. It kind of looked like a fire ravaged swamp. Pretty soon I was in Pinetop and enjoying a delicious bean burrito. I spent the night at a friends cabin, where we discussed the weather long into the night. We eventually came to the consensus that I'd best leave the following day, since the road I'd be taking was in the best condition it would be in all season. However, we anticipated a change for the worst thanks to a storm rolling through later the next day. So despite all my desires for a zero-day in a a cozy cabin, I headed out early in the morning in my attempt to beat the storm. I made it a campground on the other side of the pass and battened down the hatches before things got nasty.

On a side note, I later found out that after the storm hit, the road (once they got it back open) was in the worst condition it had been all season. Seems we made the right call...

The campground was on the edge of a town called south fork. I could count the number of improved structures on one hand. Nevertheless, it was a beautiful area and everyone I ever saw there waved and smiled. The campground was awesome, The Little Colorado as they call it was flowing and ran right through the middle. Day one of waiting out the storm was long and boring. With nothing to do, and no one to talk to, the day seemed to last forever. All the storm brought me was rain. Day two was very different. That night it snowed for hours and hours on end. Sleeping was hard and the night was long. Luckily in the morning the snow gave me something to do (gathering what was left of dry wood, making little trails, and so on). I received the good news that the storm should be clearing out by noon the following day, and I could resume my tour. The day went by much quicker, and I felt quite accomplished. In the morning I got up to a blue bird day, packed up camp, and headed out to my next destination- Alpine Divide Campground.

Here are some pictures of the rim country, my campsite outside Heber, and some photos of South Fork before and after the first part of the storm storm. The remainder of my trip to come soon. Enjoy!


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Bicycle Tour Beginnings

And so the bike tour begins....

Day 1 went very well, as I made it from Oracle jct. to Phoenix in a straight run. I rode 90mi that day and set a new personal record. That evening I pitched my new tarp/tent that I finished seam-sealing the morning prior, but pitched it so low to the ground that everything was wet in the morning due to condensation. Despite being a little damp, the trip was off to a great start. The desert hills were bountifully green with all of the recent rains, and the smell of creosote drew me closer to the mountains.

Day 2 was very difficult. Starting from just outside Mesa at about 1200ft, I rode almost all uphill until I got over the 4500ft pass in the late afternoon. I found a great spot just off the road where I was out of view of cars, but had access to a running creek down below. Learning from my mistake the night prior, I pitched my tarp several feet off the ground and had a much more enjoyable morning.

Day 3 (today) has also been very strenuous but equally rewarding. I lost the several thousand feet in elevational gain that I conquered the day before, only to climb it again. At about noon I reached Payson at 5000ft, approximately 20mi from where I was camping. I stopped at a small Mexican restaurant and had the best bean burrito of my life. I have a friend in Payson that I will stay with tonight, making today a relatively easy day. Tomorrow I'll be back on the road...

The only thing that stands between me and Show Low at this point is the Mogollon rim, a straight 2500 ft climb. Because it is all uphill, it will surly take me several days. Saturday night, there is supposed to be a storm that will roll through bringing me snow, though I'll likely just hunker down and wait it out.
Here are a few pictures of my route, campsites, and my bike on the side of the road

-Andy