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This weekend’s Larch Hunting Expedition to the North Cascades ran the gamut from being a comedy of errors to a crisis of epic proportions and back and that was before I ever left for the trip.

Here it is in bullet points:

~I try to plan an easy day hike (rehabbing an injured ankle bone), can’t find any takers.

~A friend wants to backpack to Larch Lake

~We discover that since we can’t get a shuttle to High Camp, it would be 24 miles round trip.

~We decide that Larch Lake is not going to happen this trip.

~We spend a couple days tossing ideas back and forth and doing research

~We settle on Blue Lake in the North Cascades

~We are excited

~I call the Methow Ranger Station-Okanagan National Forest and the person who answered the phone assures me we can backpack/camp there as long as we’re 200 feet off trail/away from water (the Okanagan National Forest could learn a thing or two from the Mt Baker-Snoqualmie Naitonal Forest about how to make information easily available.

~I get a call back two days later from the person that really knows what’s going on telling me that it’s a day use area and that there’s really nowhere to camp in that area and be ¼ mile away from the lake. (there are a couple climber’s camps up high and one camp low)

~Get warned by ranger station about a large, aggressive marauding bear in the area, ripping apart tents even with no food inside and breaking into cars.

~I ask office type ranger station person if it’s a “brown” bear or a “black bear” to differentiate species. I get a lecture on the fact that not all black bears are black. DUH! That’s not what I asked, you said “brown bear” (which means Grizzly or Kodiak further North) and I want to know if I’m dealing with a species that might bite me because I’m in it’s way or that considers me a possible entree.

~Starts to wonder if the woman on the phone at the ranger station has ever seen a bear or if she has ever spoken to someone who isn’t stupid. I don’t care what color the bear is, I want to know the species.

~Still not clear on species of bear, they “think” it’s a black bear, brown in color, but it has been reported as a griz by some scared people. (confirmations that the bear has torn apart tents in clean camps garnered from WTA, whatever it is, it’s bad news)

~We decide to camp ten miles East in a Forest Service campground; I don’t like car camping, but it would make a good base camp and we’d have to haul less gear to go take pictures-also, Lone Fir is at the far eastern edge of the “Bad Bear”’s territory and I know that others in that campground do not keep as clean a camp as I do, so I’m good even if it does show up. (even car camping, I use a bear can)

~We’re both excited about the trip

~The weather forecast calls for an arctic blast to bring record low temperatures to the region on Saturday night.

~We’re excited anyway.

~I yap about said trip all week, turn down party invites and trips to the coast, stay up late to get ready

~I go to pick up my magazine check (to fund the trip) and it’s not signed (the only person who can sign has a family emergency)

~I can’t afford to drive my truck, even with two people because my money is not there

~Friend agrees to drive (I can afford half of the gas for her new little car) but we can’t have a fire because she doesn’t want to haul firewood in her new car.

~Get a text message at 6:00 AM the next morning that friend lost her wallet and can’t go (understandable, not her fault, but this is work for me and I need to go)

~I have a hissy fit (not directed at friend, she’s got enough worry and stress) because I’m pissed that my magazine check is a month late (seriously, what kind of business has only one person that can sign a check?)

*note, this WAS a big deal because I have to photograph my magazine articles a YEAR ahead of time. Waiting until next year was not an option, this photo shoot was for next year.’s issue. The larch are at peak and the weather is turning. Next weekend (when I have other plans anyway) will be too late; the needles will drop and/or the weather will suck pond water and roads/trails may be closed or dangerous.

~Another friend (also a photographer) feels my pain and saves the day by loaning me gas money so that I can go.

~Friend finds wallet but decides not to go after all, at least not overnight.

~I head out, five hours late (already mentally exhausted)

And our story continues…

We find our heroine driving North, nearly to the Canadian border eh? (Canada’s only two hours from here, so it’s not that big a deal)

Then she cuts East and heads into the heart of the North Cascades.

Said heroine (who has spent time in a LOT of spectacular mountain ranges) loses her heart to the North Cascades.

So there I am, after crossing Rainy Pass, heading over Washington Pass. Since, I was running five hours late, I didn’t have time to stop and bag a lake on the way in. I already decided that I might stay a 2nd night since I was flying solo, but wanted to get to the campground in time to get camp set up and a fire burning before the Arctic blast hit.

The fact that the lakes along the North Cascades Highway (Hwy 20) were frozen and the waterfalls were icicles before the Arctic Blast hit, did not bode well for it to be a warm evening.

But I had to stop at the Washington Pass Overlook; the trail was only ¼ mile long and I needed to stretch my legs.

I took a few pictures and took in the views.

It was there I met Debbie and Tom. They were traveling in an RV and where happy to hear about Lone Fir where I was going to be staying.

As I was driving down the East side of Washington Pass, I saw them, on the mountainside… LARCH!!! They were what I had come for!

I was so excited to finally be in a larch rich environment, that I started to sing a happy larch song (OK, “I was pretty much just yelling larch Larch LARCH!!! I’ve got LARCH” at the top of my lungs). They are elusive (they only turn golden for a short time and it’s usually when the weather turns to crap; planning larch expeditions is difficult)

I arrived at the campground, left a note for some friends that were going to pull in late and got camp set up and a fire started. (Debbie and Tom pulled in a bit later)

There was a cheeky Stellar Jay that wanted to see if I was going to drop any food. (see my previous not about bears and keeping a clean camp) Every time I got my camera ready the dirty little bird would fly off into the shrubbery. He was not very cooperative and we played this game for a while.

I got a good fire going and was quite pleased with how nice it is to do a solo trip, relying on no one but myself, being able to do anything I need to do and having peace and quiet to just be.

I made use of a treat that my friend Daria sent me last holiday season, white hot chocolate, with a dark chocolate dipped spoon and marshmallows. (I had wine as well, this was a quick warm up before bed)

It was a lovely evening in a spectacular setting.

As the temperature began to plummet and the fire could no longer fight the freezing temperature, I retreated to my tent and my 15 degree (F) rated down sleeping bag (wearing long underwear, wool socks, wool hat, neck gaiter and fleece gloves; at one point I even put on my neoprene facemask) where I did some reading before hunkering down. Since I was car camping, I was able to take the big fat 3.5 inch thick sleeping pad.

*note, the “comfort” rating of a sleeping bag is subjective at best. I think it would more accurately be called a “you won’t freeze stiff and die but will still be miserable” rating.

One of the most important factors in preventing hypothermia is not only proper nutrition, but proper hydration, which unfortunately leads to one getting up in the middle of the night to leave the (relative) warmth of their tent to answer the call of nature. (NOT fun)

I woke up in the wee hours of the morning with my wool sock clad feet aching from cold even in the 15 degree down sleeping bag. I kicked my legs around and flexed my muscles to make certain that blood was flowing and drifted back off to sleep) (*note to self, order some down booties for cold weather backpacking.

When I finally exited my tent at 7:00 AM the next morning, I discovered that my water (that was inside the tent with me) had frozen and that there was ice on the inside of the tent. I also discovered that any bits of me (mostly hair sticking out from under my hat) that were exposed to air had ice on them)

I tried to take a picture of this, but my camera was very unhappy with the cold and it didn’t want to auto focus and the shutter didn’t want to work.

No problem I thought, the “joy” of car camping (which I normally avoid) is that you can start the truck, crank up the heater and defrost things.

So I cranked over the ignition…

Whirrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr…. Whiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiine, Mrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.

Nothing.

I tried again, more moaning, groaning and whining from the truck

The third try was a charm (barely). I kept the truck running for a good half hour to warm the engine block and charge the battery (which is the original battery that came in the truck 8 years ago and probably should be replaced)

As soon as I tried to move the truck, it died again.

That’s when I decided that I wasn’t going to stay a 2nd night.

I would be asking for trouble.

I told my emergency contact where I would be camping, where I would be hiking, and when I would be back (and what ranger station to call if I’m not heard from by a certain date and time)

But I thought about it. If I couldn’t get the truck to start on Monday, no one would think to call the ranger station until Monday night; I’d likely get checked on very late Tuesday (when the campground would be deserted) when food, firewood and fuel were running out. I would have hiked out to the highway and flagged down a passing motorist, but it’s a long way to any phones in sub freezing temperatures (I didn’t yet know exactly how cold it was)

It not only would have been trouble, it would have been dangerous and very very stupid.

I headed up the road (the truck died once) back over Washington Pass and stopped a few places along side the road to take pictures. (leaving the truck running of course) I figured that I was reasonably safe on the highway because people were driving by and I had jumper cables.

I ran into another guy who was photographing a waterfall wall full of icicles who said it was the coldest he’d ever been. Normally he sleeps in the back of his truck (he had a shell/topper/canopy) but he had slept in the cab last night and still nearly froze. I felt kinda badass for sticking it out in the tent. We joked about how similar our trucks looked with the maps in the windows, sleeping bags and photo gear all over the place and had to get back in our respective trucks because we could not feel our fingers.

I took a few sunrise larch shots on Washington Pass and headed over to the Blue Lake trail head.

Debbie and Tom were there joking about how I was “following them” they headed up the trail ahead of me.

On the way up the first set of switchbacks, I heard a “whoosh” and looked to my left (down the hill) and saw that I had been buzzed by a HUGE owl. I couldn’t tell what kind, but he was HUGE, maybe a Great Horned Owl. I suppose I disrupted his or her hunting.

I was not far behind Tom and Debbie and spent most of the trek to Blue Lake getting to know them.

We warmed up on the 1,100 foot climb.

I darn near had a larchgasm. The further up the trail we went, the more and more spectacular the larch were.

Blue Lake did not disappoint. It was a stunning deep blue green. Morning light is not the best for catching the rock formations behind it (shooting into the light) but I made it work and the back lit larch were spectacular.

After wandering around the lake with Debbie, Tom and one other couple taking pictures, I sat on a rock in the sun. It didn’t take long to get cold again once I stopped moving (it was no more than 15 degrees (F) at this time)

I ran into some other people on the trial who said it was 15 degrees (F) at Mazama so it was likely only 10 (F) degrees at Lone Fir where we camped. I checked Weather Underground, and it was 11 degrees (F) at Mazama, so who knows how cold it was at Lone Fir. I was starting to feel more and more badass by the minute, My hands and feet were also starting to get numb again.

I met my NW Hikers and blog friend Ingunn & her hubby and another friend on the way down. We missed each other in camp last night because they got in very late and didn’t see my note. At least we saw each other on the trial. They told me it was 15 degrees when they were having breakfast (well after the sun came up) so that 10 degrees seems to be a generous estimate of the temperature.

I got back down to the trail head after stopping to chat with not only them, but some other photo types and people who had camped at Lone Fir. I stopped off and exchanged contact information with Tom and Debbie (it’s always nice to make new friends with common interests)

I thought about trying to bag another lake (Ann), but it was a bit late for that, and at the rate I was going, I was never going to warm up, especially not on an icy trial mostly in shadow, so I called it a good trip and headed back home.

It was a great trip and well worth freezing my butt off for.

I’m bummed that my friend wasn’t able to make it (we haven’t been able to spend time together since the Tulip Pedal last April), but sometimes a solo trip is very nice and good for the spirit. I’m surprised how many women I met couldn’t imagine doing a backpack trip/hike/camping trip/road trip alone.

They ask me if I’m afraid, thinking I must be very brave. (no, I’m just prepared, experienced and am used to it; heck I used to be a backcountry ranger)

I explain to them, that I’m much safer out in the wilderness than I feel in the city, that I am well equipped, trained and experienced and make sure my emergency contacts know where I am camped, where I will hike, when I should be back and what ranger station to call.

But most important, I don’t take stupid chances. I know that something as simple as a sprained ankle can be life threatening in the wilderness (especially in the conditions we had) so I’m careful where I go, I watch my steps carefully, I don’t over estimate my capabilities and stay well within them. I’m at greater risk driving on I-5.

I love my friends, but there will always be a place for solo trips and the peace and chance for reflection that they provide.

The rest of the pictures are available here:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/wildcelticrose/sets/72157622444575749/

Or as a slide show here:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/wildcelticrose/sets/72157622444575749/show/

~L

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