Quite A Let-Down

Day 66: If the weather forecast holds, in a few days, I won't be able to get to this location to take a follow-up shot. Water management practices are a complex subject which goes much farther than letting water out of a reservoir such as Alder Lake in order to accommodate snow melt or heavy rains. Tacoma Power is bound by numerous regulations which stipulate that a certain minimum volume must pass through the spillway and that the water must be within a specific temperature range in order to accommodate salmon habitat downstream. This may mean drawing cooler water through the lower gates of the spillway during times of higher surface temperatures. If the power company fails to meet those criteria, they can be fined. To the average observer, though, Alder Lake "dries up" during the early months of winter, revealing sections of the old road and rail line which passed beside the town of Alder's schoolhouse where it sat on a high point of land. Fragments of the foundation still exist on Schoolhouse Island, and visitors to Sunny Beach Point will need to wade to reach it during the high-water summer months, but for now, Schoolhouse Island is high and dry, surrounded by the mud and unattractive stumps which form the bed of Alder Lake.

Al-Der Water Gone

Day 30: In the thirty years I've lived here, I've seen the power company let Alder Lake down this far only a couple of times. This old railroad trestle is normally under water, drowned along with the rest of the structures which comprised the town until the dam was built in 1944. The town's few residents were relocated, their businesses closed, the schoolhouse demolished and a piece of local history disappeared into the mists like Camelot, resurfacing only at times of low water. At this point, you can walk out to the "big island," Bogucki. Schoolhouse Island sits high and dry off Sunny Beach Point. I've heard several explanations for the massive drain of the lake, the most believable being that law requires the power company to let a certain volume of water through the spillway or risk being fined. They are also required to monitor water temperature downstream, and as it rises, gates at the bottom of the dam are opened to let colder water through, ensuring the optimum temperature for salmon reproduction on the lower reaches. Whatever logic is at play here, the result is that in early summer we have a nice lake, but now, it's silt and stumps and ugly as a mud fence. Al-der water's gone.

How Low Can It Go?

Day 364: This bridge is a remnant of the old highway which used to pass through the town of Alder prior to the early 1940s. Like most of the towns in this neck of the woods, Alder was little more than a whistle-stop, although it did host the proverbial "one-room schoolhouse" on a little knob of land at the edge of town. Unfortunately for the residents, Tacoma Power saw potential in the nearby Nisqually River and decided to build a hydroelectric dam. The population of Alder relocated, and the little town was drowned as the Nisqually backed up behind the dam to become what is now known as Alder Lake.

In the 25+ years I have lived in the immediate area, I have seen the tips of these bridge timbers only a few times. I have never seen their bases, not until this autumn (for scale, note the family at the left end of the bridge). The lake is lower than it has even been in my memory, evidence of last year's low snow-pack and this summer's dry weather. Tacoma Power must maintain a certain requirement of cubic feet per second flow through the dam, and must also ensure that the water temperature does not exceed that necessary to maintain salmon habitat downstream. Failure to comply carries a hefty fine. The power company is caught between a rock and a hard place. They also depend on recreation dollars from the various campsites they maintain on the shore of the lake.

I never thought I'd hear Washington described as droughty, not here where lichens grow in abundance and moss curtains the forests, but we are already in a bad way which is only destined to become worse unless the rains come at flood-producing rates. Alder Lake? It's almost a desert out there. Can you spot the bridge in this photo?

Alder Lake Fire

Day 310: The Alder Lake Fire started with a lightning strike on Tuesday, August 11, and continues to burn tonight, involving approximately 37 acres of timber. A USDA fire crew of 79 personnel with two bulldozers and three engines are working to contain it, and to clear disused spur roads in order to gain better access to the affected area. The latest bulletin describes it as, "Moderate fire behavior, creeping, rolling, and occasional torching. In steep rugged terrain that is inaccessible and has 60% slope." It goes on to say that, "Crews are making great progress, preparing indirect line on the east side with water." No air support has been brought in as it was for the Elbe Hills Fire in 2012. Smoke is drifting roughly southeast at the present time.

Paddle Caching

Day 252: Although I've pretty much abandoned geocaching, occasionally one will crop up which I can't resist. Mostly, these exceptions take the form of "paddle caches," i.e., ones you have to access by boat. A new one showed up in the area yesterday, and for a variety of reasons, I didn't sprint out the door in pursuit of "first to find" honours. For one thing, it was windy. For another, it was a warm and sunny Sunday, the kind which brings out power-boaters and jerks on jet-skis. The last time I was out on Alder, a teenager on a jet-ski thought it would be funny to try to swamp my 'yak, cutting a powerful wake 15' from my little craft. If I'd had a phone with me, I would have called the sheriff. Apparently, this young man needed to be made aware that there are laws against trying to drown people. Thus Sunday was out, given the likelihood of other boaters, but in any event, not too many geocachers are equipped for marine caching, so I figured the "first to find" would still be attainable if I waited a day.

In the meantime, I tried to solicit backup, suggesting to Kevin (my friend and supervisor) that he could rent a 'yak for the day and join me. Sadly, he declined. However, after some major arm-twisting, I did convince my caching partner Dan to drive up from Olympia. We set out together about noon, island-bound on choppy water, paddling strongly into the wind. The waves subsided to a tolerable level once we reached the protected back side of the island, and there we hugged the shore, looking for a place to put in. The lake is a reservoir, and the island was once a mountain. Its sides are steep, and do not give easy access. That said, when we finally did locate a landing, we were a mere 387 feet laterally from the cache. Note that I said "laterally." We also had a vertical gain of 150 feet with which to contend, a path obstructed with prickly Oregon Grape and massed Sword Ferns. It wasn't the most challenging brush-crash the two of us have ever done, not by a long shot, but it certainly wasn't a "park-and-grab," either. Needless to say, we found the cache, an excellent hide by someone new to the sport. That in itself was remarkable, since new hiders lack the experience to know what differentiates a good cache from a bad one.

With the mission thus accomplished, we finished out the day by completing a full circuit of the island. It had definitely paid off to wait a day. There were only three power-boats on the water, and everyone played nicely together.

Bogucki Island Kayak Adventure

Day 308: When I left home this morning, I had no set plan other than to put the 'yak in the water at the public boat launch near Alder Lake Park and go paddle around for a while. Once I was afloat, Schoolhouse Island looked tempting, but also very far away. "Maybe that would be a good goal," I thought, "once 'round the island and back to the launch. Yeah, I can do that." I set a leisurely pace, had a curious duck come up to visit, put up a flock of geese close to the island, and 'round I went. At that point, I was still thinking of calling it a day when I got to the launch, but as I got closer, I said to myself, "It's too early to go in. I'm not done having fun yet." I went on up to Alder Lake Park (not very far), beached the boat to take advantage of the facilities close at hand, but when I started paddling again, I still didn't feel like quitting. So what's to do? I made another loop around Schoolhouse Island, this time in the opposite direction. My route is shown in blue on the map, points of interest marked by red arrows. Yes, the story continues.

Power boats were out on the lake in number, most of them dragging water-sleds or water skiers along behind at high speed. I got to test the seaworthiness of my little craft as it rode some pretty substantial rollers. On my first circuit of Schoolhouse, I'd entertained the idea of crossing the lake to tag bigger Bogucki Island, but couldn't find a window through the speed boats. On the second circuit, they'd moved to some different location. "Tag Bogucki," I said to self. "That's a good goal."

I've been to Bogucki on foot. Yes, that's right...on foot. There was (may still be) a geocache on the island, and I knew that it could be reached at low water if you were willing to walk a mile or so through sloppy mud. Two caching friends and I made the crossing several years ago. Today, however, the reservoir was at or near capacity with no danger of running aground even in a power boat. I paddled over to Bogucki with the thought in my mind that the island is only about a mile long. "Around or back?" I asked myself, and settled on "around."

The power boats were on the back side of Bogucki, as luck would have it, and again sent some large rollers my way. The Tanager handled them beautifully. Once I'd rounded the north tip of the island, a new problem presented itself: teenagers on jet skis. One young man about 12-14 years old raced alongside me about 15 feet to port. The wake he set up was choppy and of a shorter interval than that of the power boats, and I had water splashing over the bow. Once he was past me, I power-paddled to get out of the racer lane and then took my time getting back to the boat launch, tired but having thoroughly enjoyed the four hours I was out. I'm putting the distance at 5-6 miles.

A New Experience

Day 303: Although I've been out in rowboats and a fly-fishing pontoon boat on many occasions, it has been over forty years since I paddled a canoe, and I have been giving some thought about getting one for flat-water fishing excursions. I'd also entertained the idea of purchasing a kayak, but since I had never used one, I was hesitant to make the financial commitment. I'd made that mistake with the pontoon boat. It hadn't worked out for me. I am a very small person, and even with the footrests adjusted all the way in, I had to sit slumped in the seat. It was difficult to handle in even the slightest breeze, and on one occasion, I found myself down the length of a small mill pond, struggling to gain an inch at a time to get back to the launch. My inability to load a rowboat onto a roof rack put that option out of the question. A canoe or kayak sounded better than a rubber raft.

Last night, I attended a retirement party at a Park Service colleague's home on Alder Lake. She had canoes and kayaks available for any of us who wished to go out for a paddle, so I seized the opportunity to try out an 11-foot Necky Manitou. Described as "A thoughtfully scaled down rec version of a sea kayak...(which) bridges the gap between stability and performance, delivering rock solid stability and impressive tracking," the Manitou impressed me with its slick glide and maneuverability. I swept across a mile of lake in short order, only drifting sideways when I hit the current in the river channel central in the reservoir. I felt very secure in the cockpit even when a power boat came by and left me to ride its wake (of course I turned the bow into the waves). The return trip was facilitated by a slight tailwind, and as I rowed into the sunset, my thought was, "I've gotta get one of these."