Snow Faeries

Day 49: The Snow Faeries came calling last night, and with them they brought one of the modern era's most precious commodities: silence. I had almost forgotten what it doesn't sound like, that absence of traffic grumbling on the road, but over the last four hours, no more than four cars have dared the snow; no log trucks, no jeepers, no early-shift commuters and more telling, no plow. The Faeries must have gifted Flatland as well, calling those enormous scraping, growling machines to the lowlands with a sense of greater urgency than that of our small mountain community. Silence! It brings a deep calmness to my spirit, creates space between the snarl of thoughts and cares winding through my head. It has been too long since I heard nothing, far too long, and odd though it may seem, nothing can be as critically important to existence as any or all of the somethings in the world.

Mirror Lake Idyll

Makeup Day 6: Because of my age, I am attempting to be more diligent about filing a flight plan with friends before taking off on an adventure, but after fifty years of hiking alone and wherever my feet could take me, it's difficult. For one thing, "adventure" by its very definition cannot have strictures. Thus it was that the "plan" I laid out this morning read, "I'm going to go up to Indian Henrys if I can get around the washout on the old Tahoma Creek Trail. I've gotten around it before. If I can't get around it, I'll either go up Gobbler's Knob or up to South Puyallup Camp, or maybe beyond." That's about as definitive as I can manage. At least it would put the SAR team on the west side of the Mountain.

In the past when I've filed a flight plan, I've deviated from it a good 90% of the time, and sometimes rather radically. Crows, whether avian or mammalian, are opportunists. If time permits, I may go wandering off-trail with map and compass in hand to find a waterfall I've never seen before, or some little bathtub-sized alpine tarn. I want only to be governed by available daylight and my endurance. In fact, if I'd had another three hours today, I would have climbed Pyramid Peak, but as it was, I only went as far as Mirror Lakes (not listed on my projected itinerary). Yes, I got around the washouts (plural) and reached Indian Henrys and the ranger cabin there, although once I'd started my journey, Mirror overshadowed any other goal. Funny how it works out that way once my feet touch the ground.

Unexpected High Seas

Day 19: Half an hour later, I was down there in the far end and as I swung 'round to follow the eastern shore (right side of the photo), a series of low swells came surging across the surface, threatening to take the kayak broadside. I angled into them and rode them out, but they were just the appetizer. The wind came up, pulling the water into meringue peaks and dashing them into the cockpit. "Where the hell did that come from?" I grumbled aloud. "So much for doing two laps!"

The camera was on the floor of the boat, but I didn't dare stop paddling long enough to put it in the dry-sack. If the wind had turned the boat sideways, I could have been in trouble. The western shore was somewhat calmer under the wind-shadow created by the surrounding hills, so I put my back into it and tacked for open water, away from the hazards of barely submerged stumps. Once across, it was easier going, though I was still fighting wind if not whitecaps. A quarter mile from the boat ramp, the wind subsided into a gentle breeze. What's a sailor to do? I made for the far side and finished off the day with a leisurely navigation of the south end, one "lap" made with respect to distance travelled, although I missed out a piece of the eastern shore entirely.

Aqua-Bound

Day 332: What a day! A friend alerted me to a new "paddle cache" near Yelm a couple of days ago, and when I looked at it to get the specifics, I discovered that there were actually five on the sprawling, multi-armed lake. I mapped them out with National Geographic's "Topo!" program and traced a route of approximately 3.5 miles round trip. That, I said to self, is easily do-able. I put the project on my agenda for Saturday, but then was reminded of the holiday weekend by another friend. When you live alone, holidays don't signify. They're easily forgotten, and often leave you snarled in traffic if you foolishly decide to go to town. Saturday suddenly seemed less appealing, but the weather forecast for today was less than perfect. I went to bed with some trepidation.

When I got up this morning, I saw blue through gaps in the clouds. I made the final decision to go for it. By the time I hit Eatonville, I was regretting it. It was simply pouring buckets, in my mind filling the 'yak on the roof and soaking the seat. However, when I reached the blinking light on Hwy 7, rain ceased and puffy white sheep were gambolling on a field of blue. The Weather Gods had smiled on me for my doggedness. The 'yak was only moderately damp inside, and the seat wasn't the least bit soggy.

I launched on Lake St. Clair about 10:30 and was almost at the furthest cache when I realized I'd forgotten something very important. When you're logging five-star hides, you'd bloody well better have signed the log! And that's rather hard to do when you don't have a pen. With less than 300 feet to go to my primary destination, I turned around and started paddling back 'round the rabbit (a chocolate-bunny shaped peninsula) toward the car. Then it occurred to me that I was passing right by a full-sized "regular" cache I'd planned to do later in the day. Surely it would have a pen in it! I was in luck. With the borrowed pen, I "drove" the 'yak back to my intended starting point, found the cache and signed the log. Yes, I returned the pen later.

I faced another challenge with several of the caches. The owner (person who placed them) had not taken short-torsoed, short-armed tiny people into account. In water of unknown depth, I did not want to risk standing up in the 'yak to unscrew a tiny Bison tube hung in a tangle of cedar boughs swinging low over the water! By means of strange contortions, I retrieved that cache and (harder still) replaced it after I'd signed in. Two others were similarly placed. But oh, I was impressed by the tight places the 'yak could reach!

After all the caches had been found, I lengthened the day with explorations of all the lake's major arms (and it has quite a few). In total, my paddle covered approximately seven miles. The weather, for all of its wet beginnings, had turned into perfection. Now I'm ready to bide at home through the busy holiday weekend.