Marmot Jr.

Day 305: The Berkeley bears didn't make an appearance during my hike to Lodi Creek making this the first time in several years that I haven't had an encounter with either a sow or a cub. Two years ago, I faced off with a rather bold cubbie for five or ten minutes until we agreed on the proper comfort zone for two-way traffic. This time, only Marmot Jr. and his mom shared the trail with me. Junior was slightly bigger than half-grown, still very curious about those two-legged creatures who passed through his meadow but wary enough to keep his distance. I'd first spotted him as he ran downslope and across the trail twenty feet ahead of me to duck into a small grouping of short subalpine firs. As I passed, he popped his head out to watch me, and then once he felt it was safe, he took up this classic pose on a sun-warmed rock. Roughly two hundred feet further on, mom scurried across the track, possibly wondering where her offspring had gone.

Lodi's Wildflowers

Day 303: You may find yourself a little short of breath if you hop out of your car at 6400' and begin racing up the trail from the Sunrise parking area to the crest of Sourdough Ridge, so on this too-warm and smoky day, it was even more important for me to adopt a snail's pace for my hike. Last year, I had not had time to make it all the way to Lodi Creek before the volunteer picnic; I'd gotten shanghaied by visitors at Frozen Lake and stayed there as long as I could, trying to keep them from feeding the chipmunks. When you're in uniform, your personal goals are secondary to the needs of the Park's guests, so we'd allowed some extra time this year for hiking, although I estimated that it was still barely enough for me to make the trek and be back in time for the picnic. Kevin stayed behind at Sunrise to take care of some administrative tasks.

Over the course of a 12-hour work day, I spoke with 129 visitors at Sunrise alone, answering questions about the weather, the trails, the notable absence of birds (smoke-related), wildlife, and of course plants, plants, always plants. I recruited five potential new Meadow Rovers and two greenhouse volunteers (one, a Master Gardener), and gave water to a parched hiker who had misjudged how much he'd need on his own hike (a common occurrence). My annual ablutions were fulfilled with a ritual swim in a hidden lake where I found one new plant (as yet not identified by me), and I even spent half an hour lugging 4' slabs of cedar puncheon to a site where trail crew was replacing a footbridge. The hike to Lodi was a mere two miles one way, but between heat, smoke and visitor contacts, required an hour and a half to complete. Once there, I had time to take a few pictures and put my hands in the water (my customary greeting to this old friend), and then I was headed back up the hill, grateful for a cloud which settled in to block the sun during the steepest part of the ascent. At the picnic, I socialized with some 60+ volunteers and handed out service awards to those who had put in the hours or years required for recognition.

All other things aside, it was those five minutes I spent with my old friend Lodi which "made my day." We had many good times together during my active backpacking years, Lodi and I. Rain or shine, Lodi's cheerful chuckle always greeted me when I was en route to Berkeley, Grand Park or Fire Creek, and the abundance of wildflowers along its moisture-rich course were often the highlight of a trip around the Northern Loop. There are no rarities here, just a lush garden of memories only I can see.

A Hike To Lodi Creek

Day 324: This collage has been on hold for the last two weeks due to the Alder Lake Fire. The photos were taken on the day of the Volunteer picnic at Sunrise, at the turnaround point of a hike I seem to take every year on picnic day. Why the same hike? Because little Lodi Creek holds a special spot in my heart as one of the most cheering rivulets on the Mountain. Even in late season (and this year, dry), it can be counted on to provide a selection of wildflowers, particularly Lewis' Monkeyflower (Mimulus lewisii) which grows in abundance all along the stream's passage through Berkeley Park and down to Berkeley Camp.

Backpackers will know what I mean when I say that each stream has its own voice. Some babble, some whisper, some laugh. Lodi chuckles. Every rock in the creek bed has some amusing secret to impart to the water and Lodi chuckles at every one it discovers. Perhaps the mosses tickle it, or it finds the pink faces of the Monkeyflowers funny. Perhaps it finds floating fallen petals droll, or the shapes of roots straggling over its banks absurd. Whatever sportive expressions Lodi encounters as it rambles on, it obviously believes them very humorous indeed because they keep it chuckling until this merry stream eventually pours into the roar and rumble of White River's grand guffaw. I hike each year to Lodi to share in its delicious jokes, and when on rare occasion, I have more time, I will continue on past Berkeley Camp to visit another old friend, an unnamed tributary I call Giggly Creek. I think it knows something it's not telling Lodi. You can hear it in its whimsical titter.

Trail Encounter

Day 307: While hiking out of Sunrise yesterday, a call came over my radio that a bear cub had been sighted in Berkeley Park with the mother nowhere to be seen. People in the area were advised to give it a wide berth and to be on the lookout for mom. Bears in the Park are not normally aggressive, but a sow protecting her offspring is another story. Getting between mama and a cub is not a good idea! Since I was only planning to go as far as Lodi Creek (the point at which the trail takes a bend after descending from the intersection with the Skyscraper Pass trail), I figured there was no chance I'd encounter the bear. Berkeley was a mile or so beyond my projected turn-around point, and the likelihood of a bear covering that distance in the span of time it would take me to reach the creek was minimal. In fact, I did not see a bear en route to the creek. I found it on my return, approximately half a mile above Lodi Corner. Given time and distance, I suspect this was a second cub, and (s)he was thoroughly engrossed in eating wildflowers as I approached.

It has to be said that I have had more bear encounters in the Berkeley Park area than anywhere else in the Park. Several years ago, I rounded a cluster of trees and was startled to see a sow about 50 feet away (as near as I'd ever been to a bear in the wild), chomping on a mouthful of plants. This little cub was somewhat closer than that. I spoke in a normal tone of voice to alert him/her to my presence. (S)he looked toward me and went back to eating. I put in a radio call so that rangers above me could warn any other hikers entering the area that a cub had been sighted (but not mama), and as I moved slowly forward, the youngster showed a little more curiosity about me, raising his/her head and taking a few steps in my direction, acting as if (s)he might approach me more closely for a sniff. I said firmly, "I don't think you want to do that, bear," and took a few more steps toward the cub. It rewarded me by turning its head away and grudgingly moving to concealment behind a rock. I passed without event, eyes scanning both sides of the trail for any sign of mom.

I later learned that visitors had reported seeing an adult bear near Skyscraper Pass in the morning, but the Sunrise rangers believe that the mother has cut the apron strings and that the cub(s) are now on their own, "learning how to be bears." Had she been in the area, the sow's maternal instincts might have kicked into gear if she'd seen me as a threat to her offspring, but for today, it was just Cubby and I, both enjoying a cool walk in the subalpine meadows above Berkeley Park.

Lovely Lodi Creek

Day 319: With the second of two Volunteer Appreciation picnics being held at Sunrise on the east side of Mount Rainier National Park, I had an excuse to visit one of my favorite places in the line of duty. With a radio slung on my belt, I set out from the parking lot at noon and, typical of a busy Saturday, had not gone a hundred yards before I was stopped by the first visitor with a question. I don't often have the opportunity for visitor contacts, although it's something I greatly enjoy, particularly when the inquiries touch on my fields of interest. In this instance, I was asked to identify a wildflower. Oh! Those are the questions I like best! A little further on, another visitor pulled me aside to ask why the snow was oddly colored, opening the door for me to explain about red algae. I heard that same question at least five more times during my hike.

With frequent stops, I finally got to Lodi Creek two hours later after having heard reports of bear and goat sightings near Frozen Lake and below Skyscraper Pass. I saw neither. At Lodi, I was again engaged in conversation with several groups of visitors, almost all of whom were foreigners or from out of state, some visiting Mount Rainier National Park for the first time. It is always a thrill for me to be part of someone's introduction to the Park.

My free time was half-exhausted by then, so I started back up the hill, chatting with more visitors on the way. I stopped to admire a four-point buck (eight-point to you east-coasters!) and to photograph a Townsend's Chipmunk kindly pointed out to me by an elusive flock of some kind of warbler which disappeared into the brush before I could spot where one had landed. Then I returned to Sunrise where my colleagues were gathering for the picnic and spent the remainder of the afternoon in their delightful company.