This is the 15th year of continuous daily publication for 365Caws. All things considered, it's likely it will be the last year as it is becoming increasingly difficult for me to find interesting material. However, I hope that I may have inspired someone to a greater curiosity about the natural world with my natural history posts, or encouraged a novice weaver or needleworker. If so, I've done what I set out to do.
Monday, June 17, 2013
Tahoma Creek Suspension Bridge
Day 258: A couple of days ago, our SCA intern Joshua mentioned that he was thinking about taking a hike up to Tahoma Creek Suspension Bridge and it occurred to me that I hadn't been up there since the last big flood. The trail is no longer maintained and in fact is not readily noticeable unless you know where to look for it along the West Side Road. My late husband and I considered it one of our favorite short hikes and many times, we'd go on to Indian Henrys if time permitted, but during the winter of 1998-99, huge sections of the trail collapsed into the creek channel, leading to it being closed to the general public. It still saw considerable use, often as a bail-out point for Wonderland Trail hikers who felt they couldn't go the whole route, and the repeated foot traffic established detours around the worst sections. Some small improvements were made by trail crews, but use was still discouraged. A second flooding episode in 2006-07 did further damage, and that was what I had not seen for myself until today.
The river cuts quite close to the embankment early on. There is a hazard from dirt/rockslides for a short way, and then the route becomes rather indistinct once it enters the river channel. I found it much easier to follow back in afternoon sun than I did going up with the morning light in my eyes. Once this section has been conquered, a series of relatively minor but aggravating ups and downs go from channel to forest and back again, with frequent clambering up root or rock "stairs" only to find you must go down again on the other side. You mustn't be afraid to get your feet wet, either. Some of the side-stream crossings were a bit wide for my stride.
There had been so much alteration to the landscape that I really didn't recognize much until I came to one enormous rock outcrop about a quarter mile from the bridge. "Oh, I know you!" I said, and then promptly found a small waterfall, another old friend. As I passed the trail sign near the bridge, I felt a twinge of nostalgia, remembering how after leaving our camp at Devil's Dream, my husband and I had cooked breakfast at that very spot during the Wonderland Trail trip we made together in 1978. Bruce was always terrified of the bridge, and I couldn't help but wonder what he would have thought as I sprinted out into mid-span for the photo without ever touching a hand-rail.
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