Hiked 100 miles during the month of November.  In addition to our usual day jaunts to Skelton Point, we spent three nights in a cabin at Phantom on our own and two nights over Thanksgiving with friends.  Who, after hiking out, are still speaking to us. 

On Friday, we started down in a blizzard, which one of us was not happy with, but it cleared off and we even got a rainbow once below the Redwall. 

First I got drafted to lead a four-day intro hike down the South Kaibab and over to Indian Garden.  Go ahead: twist my arm.  The group meshed very well: it is not that unusual to have one person that everyone would leave behind if they could.  Weather was perfect.

Then the next weekend we took Paul into the Canyon for his first overnight.  He tells me that he did hike down with us once in July, the time I found a Grand Canyon Pink rattler in the middle of the trail eating a wood rat.  On that occasion, everyone but me hiked back out and I guarded the snake for a good two hours to keep it from being stepped on.

Anyhow, I got a permit for Saturday, and then got into the "walk up" line at the BCO to get a Friday night as well.  Then I had to work Friday, so we did not start down until 2:30.  It gets dark at 5:30, but we made it just in time to snag the worst campsite: the one right next to the bathroom.  This would seem ideal, except every time someone opened the door, the light flashed right in my face. 

Next morning I espied a woman packing up from my favorite site.  This one is also near the bathroom, but shielded by a thick screen of trees.  We lurked until she left, and then moved sites.  I am sure she thought I was stalking her. 

That day we hiked to Ribbon Falls.  So all in all, we did 30 miles within 48 hours.  That is harder than just hiking in and out. 

The lower route into Ribbon

Paul at ribbon falls

Rode the Pedal the Petrified this weekend.  It was great.  Looking forward to next year, when I shall train my derriere to ride the entire 60 miles instead of just 30.

Spent a week in Boston for a wedding.  It was a pretty big affair.  The rehearsal dinner, the wedding it self, the reception...  The reception included a procession of the bride and groom, the mother, the father, the grandmother...fortunately I did not qualify for a march across the floor.  The music was so loud, we cut out early. Why do we have to destroy our hearing to attend these events?  Part of the idea is to talk, which one cannot do when music is blasting.  I made my wedding dress out of $5 worth of material I bought at Goodwill, so ha!.

After the ceremony, we were instructed to turn to the person next to us and share a special thought.  As an introvert, I hate this part. I motioned Robbie closer and told him, "If you plan a big wedding, I shall knee cap you".

Since we flew all that way, we spent the week exploring Boston.  We lived there for two years, so we had some idea of how to get around and how to use the T, so we bought a week's pass.

One day at the aquarium with Robbie and Renata, three days in the Science Museum (we bought a membership), two days on the Freedom Trail, one day on the African American Trail, one day in the Harvard museum, one day on Georges Island to Fort Warren. We closed the museum every day.  We get our money's worth, by George.

Park Rangers are special. They are over educated, under paid, and every one of them has an area of expertise.  And all they are ever asked is Where is the bathroom.  We toured with a couple of historians who added a lot of detail.  Then we went into the African American museum with another volunteer.  I had no idea that there were four million slaves in the South before the Civil War.  The museum had just spiffed up the place with a grant from the Obama administration.  The historian told us that would never happen with the current administration, and I said, "Oh, ya think?"  He laughed.

At Fort Warren a volunteer showed us this eight-sided brick. A ranger did a trivia contest, which I won, and we attended a program on a Confederate memorial which was recently removed.  Fort Warren was mainly used as a Confederate prison, which I knew, but I did not know about the memorial.

Then a ranger at the new Bunker Hill museum gave an excellent talk on the battle, about which I knew nothing.  If the temperature is over 80, they close the monument and move outdoor tours indoors.  Wimps.

When he was a kid, Robbie loved this kronosaurus at the Harvard Museum. 

Lighting show at the science center: did this twice

the martian

Fort Warren.  The roof is held up by this eight sided brick.

We spent our usual week on the North Rim.  Got locked out of the cabin, because those 1928 locks are garbage.  Hiked to Redwall Bridge twice and Woodforis twice.    No water fight this year because the pipeline broke again, and the storage tanks were low.  Just a parade.  North Rim is a lot smaller than south, and the rangers all know each other...and me.  Amanda says I make the rangers nervous when I come to the programs.

What a crew of weirdos.  Haley is the only sane one in the bunch.
Ranger Kim, Cathy and Paul Davis, Moi, Rachel, and Haley.

Cabin 305 has a defective lock. Our last morning they had to break in through the window. 

Then since we were so far north, we figured we might as well keep migrating, so we went to Zion.  Hiked the Emerald Pools trail with 1000 of our closest friends.  All the signs say not to get in the water, and I gave up remonstrating everyone.  Sign? What sign? Then we climbed to Observation Point and part of the East Rim trail.  There we met a group of four young men dangling with climbing gear who asked us where Echo Canyon was.  Um, if you are going to canyoneer a canyon, should you not know where it is?  They then decided to follow us because "you look like you know what you are doing".

Trail to Observation Point.  Narrow and exposed.  

It was hot in Zion, so we repaired to Bryce.  There we did the Wall Street - Queen's garden loop with another 1000 of our close personal friends.  We knocked down a bunch of ego cairns in Wall Street, and a father, whom I assume had just built one with his kid, remonstrated.  Brad said the area does not need adornment,  I said, there are ten now, what about when there are one thousand?

Ran into a PSR ranger and asked what he says to these guys. He said, "I am law enforcement. I pull out my badge".  We hiked 8.4 mile loop at Fairyland and only met a handful of people.  Also no ego cairns.  

Had a lot of questions about the geology, and the second geology program we went to was led by the man who was the park geologist for four years.  Score!  He told us all about the Claron formation, and told us the white conglomerate we saw was Boat Mesa conglomerate, and it only occurs there.  Not enough to be an actual formation, even.

Fairyland

Back from first part of vacation.  We visited Becky in the Dalles until her generator caught on fire.  Honestly, if she wanted us to leave all she had to do was ask... So we went to John Day, which everyone had told me I absolutely had to see.  We hiked in all three units of the park.  Not a lot of fossils in situ, but a great museum.

Then to Bend.  Spent two days in Newberry caldura. Hiked 14 miles one day, up the peak and around half the crater.  Then came back to climb the obsidian mountain, a small crater, and walk to the hot springs.  we asked the ranger so many questions that he dragged-us outside to show us where the 10,000 year old pit-house was found.  Since the middle crater in the lake grew about 7,000 years ago, there may have been people to watch.

A day at the High desert museum, and two days at Smith Rock.  The birthplace of sport climbing, as we found out.

Back to the Dalles.  We wanted to hike Coyote Wall, but could not see the turnoff, so we got permits to climb Dog Mountain.  Dog is so popular that they limit permits to 150 people a day on weekends, and a shuttle is available to the trailhead.  A nice steep climb, but no fun on the way down. Everyone in Oregon hikes with at least one dog and usually more. All of them were polite (the dogs) but hiking with a dog in tick country?  We found Coyote wall on the way back.  The sign was obvious.  I guess they ran out after we passed it the first time and put the sign up.  Spent one day going to museums, then back to Coyote Wall and back to Dog Mountain. Most of the good hikes (ie, lots of elevation) were closed because of landslide danger from the fire last year.

They knew exactly who started the fire, because hikers told him not to throw the fireworks into the forest just before he did so.  The kid has been fined with an amount he cannot possibly pay back.  I think he should sit at the trailhead and have to tell people why they can't hike in there.

After hiking in the ticks and the poison oak, I am glad to be back with the scorpions and the rattlers.

Painted hills unit of John day fossil beds

Climbing the caldura.  In the snow, and it is
108 at Phantom Ranch

hot springs

Owl rock art

Me, Becky, and She-who-watches

I don't think the sign refers to me.

This poem was left for us after the last GCAFI rim to rim

We're hoping for a journaling class
hiking or biking or riding an ass
we'll sign up in a heartbeat if we hear in advance
Slim or Joan are involved without a backward glance
We'll scurry and hurry and be ready super fast
despite weather worry or flurry or storms that may last
thought chances are Slim we'll meet next week on the trail
We hope to join you again in the future without fail
Tom and Missy

Finished rim to rim for the GCAFI.  Dunno.  The first day down North Kaibab to Cottonwood is a thrash, admittedly, but more so for people who did not take getting into shape seriously.  Also, skipping dinner and breakfast is a loser.  We are burning mucho calories, people.

Weather could not have been better.  Not too cold on the North Rim, 90's coming down, which is hot but not unbearable.  Cool enuff to sleep at night.  It was hot crossing the Box, but again, not as hot as could have been.

I was able to rig my hammock every night.  At Cottonwood, I went between the pack bars.  At BA we got the Palace Suite and I tied off to the old CCC structure.  However the wind, or my rocking, or something wore through the cord and I sat down, hard, at 1 AM.  I did a quick scorpion sweep with my trusty black light and slept on the ground for the rest of the night.  Much prefer a hammock.

Next day I borrowed a cardboard box from the Ranch and cushioned the rock from the cord, or visa versa.  I also got in and out very carefully. The cord was 275 pound test, but it may be that springing up with enthusiasm puts too much stress on the cord.  I also put my pack under me, so if I fell again I could land on something semi-soft.  I know we are supposed to hang them, but all the food was out, and critters

can climb up to the packs anyhow.  Did not bring the heavy duty cord hanger because the whole point was to save weight.  And avoid ticks.  At IG it is easy to rig between the pack hanging bars.  Got a lousy tick bite anyway.

Gossiped with Helen at IG. They picked up an illegal guide a few weeks back.  Apparently he advertises on Facebook and is unprofessional enough that he gets caught.

I met the AOA group doing a rim to rim with Phantom Ranch assist.  One gal at Cottonwood at 1 PM was really hurting.  Barely walking, looked to be in real pain.  I meet the guide at the water refill at the Delta, and he introduced himself.  I could not shake hands because my hands were full of micro trash I had been picking up, which he apparently was comfortable with ignoring.  I thought he was a different guide than I had seen the day before, so I asked about the gal who was doing so poorly.

"Oh, that was "Sally". She's right here, and she's doing fine."  Sally gave me a dark look, but, hey, she was walking funny.  Helen told me that she was not doing well on the way out, either.

This was "opening weekend", first weekend the North Rim is open to cars.  My lands, hundreds of runners.  Most of them were polite, but the 50th time you step aside it gets old.  Also two blasted past me with no warning.  I could have easily stepped to one side not hearing them, or dropped a stick and knocked them off into the creek. Asking to pass is for your safety as well, runners.  They also pretty much overrun the canteen at the Ranch. Helen said they did $130,000 work of retail at the Ranch.  They ran out of size Large tee shirts, so I will buy some for my people when I go back. Assuming they have them by then.

Friday hiked down to Indian Garden by myself.  Got my favorite campsite.  Of course, about 3:00 a commercial group came in and I had the largest site to myself while they crammed their tents into a single.  They had tortellini with chicken and a cucumber salad, tomorrow they will have steak diane {!}.  Serves them right to cram together. 

I have been looking for the Thayer pictographs for about 10 years, and I finally found them.  I was clambering around the Tapeats and a group of geezers spotted me from the trail.  They thought I was lost.  Yeah, I am across the creek and up on a cliff, are you guys on the trail?  I assured them I was exploring.  I imagine them going to the ranger and reporting a crazy lady in a skirt messing around the cliffs, and the ranger sighing and saying, "Of course she was".  Anyhow, found them.  Then I sat in the shade admiring them for a good half hour.  Hidden so no one on the trail could spot me. Class Three so I cannot tell anyone where they are.

Hiked out in two and a half, which including picking up one of the grossest items I have yet to find.  One of those special "hold the water" towels which stiffen like a board when dry.  Someone had used it as TP.  I actually walked past it and made myself go back.  I didn't even have a big trash bag, so I emptied my food bag, which barely fit it, particularly since it was dry and too stiff to fold.  Also I did NOT want to touch it.  Then when I stopped to snack, I poured a whole bottle of hand sanitizer on myself, and even then I picked up my cookie with a plastic bag so I didn't touch it. 

The wind was blowing like crazy.  I had my hammock up, and it works well in the wind.  I just wrapped myself up like a burrito.  Usually I am inundated by the dust.  IG is the only site one can rig a hammock legally, since the pack hanging bars and ramadas are so close together.  In fact, the permit says that hammocks are not allowed at Bright Angel, which does not mean no one tries to rig them on the trees. 

Spent a good half hour by myself out at Plateau Point.  On the way back, I met every commercial group there on their way for sunset.  The wind was really ripping on the River: I could see the waves going upstream from the point. 

hammock rigging in the large site by myself, ha!

UFO's over the Canyon

Plateau point

Friday we decided to do our long hike rather than Saturday. The weekend before we had literally run-ins with downhill, out of control runners who rammed right into us rather than slow down to let uphill hikers pass.  The Saturday before, we contended with 80 illegal in-and-outers.  Any group which requires people to sign up in advance to do a day hike below the Tonto level must get a permit, and is limited to 30 people. 

Anyhow, we figured Friday would not have as many wing nuts on the trail, so we did Plateau Point.  A few nice cactus flowers, but not as many as one would expect.  Saturday we just walked the rim, and Sunday we did my first organized outing for the Grand Canyon Historical Society.  Here is the write up I did for the Ol' Pioneer, our newsletter: 

The primary goal of the US Forest Service for a long time (some would say too long) was the total suppression of fires.  To this end, during the early 1900’s, tall trees with sweeping views were utilized as de facto lookout towers.  The top was lopped off, a ladder or bolts hammered into the bark, and a platform constructed for the hardy fire spotter.  A telephone or telegraph completed the system.  If a fire was espied, the spotter would phone another ranger who would in turn load his equipment onto a horse and hie off to extinguish to the flames. 

The Hull lookout tree

Glass insulator for the phone line

An insulator between the tree and the road, just as we were discussing where the phone line might have run.

Saturday, May 6, the Historical Society met with Kaibab National Forest anthropologist, Neil Weintraub and hiked to two of these trees.  The first of these, the Hull Tree, was about a mile through the woods.  Along the way we found remnants of glass insulators: an indicator of the possible direction the phone line ran back in the day.  After a quick jaunt up the historic Grandview Tower, we adjourned to the Tusayan Lookout Tree.  This one is very close to the road and has a nifty new interpretive sign.  Many thanks to Mr. Weintraub for taking time out of his Sunday to give us the benefit of his expertise. 

Had a lovely hike with the GCAFI and some great ladies.

We were at Tipoff, and a guy lying there offers us water from the SAR cache.  Says, I, that is for emergencies.  Says he, Oh, it is just right over here, and shows me.

Then a helicopter circles.  We scattered as it started to land, and the guy throws on his backpack and runs over.  The SAR ranger stops him and starts to manipulate his knee "to see if we have to immobilize it".  It is obviously weight-bearing, and he can walk.  We got bored and announced,
"Well, us old ladies are going to keep hiking".

Ran into a ranger on her way up to evaluate him, and she said she did not know what was going on.  He apparently knew "just how to whine" to get a copter.  She also said he was flown out, hopped into his car and drove off without even going to the clinic.

For the next few days, every time something went wrong, we said we needed a copter.  "Oh, a gu packet split and my food is sticky.  I need a copter".  "My oreos are broken: I need a copter"

Arizona teachers are on strike, just because Gov. Dipstick cut funding by about a billion dollars.  He promised a one percent raise this year, then 10% after he is re-elected.  Uh, huh. Anyhow, all teachers walked out Thursday.  Our school voted to stay in, but the ones who voted not to (and lost the vote) walked out anyhow. So why bother to vote?  I put up with all sorts of politicians I did not vote for.

So Friday, we did the highway pickup with NHS and then climbed Red Butte.  900 feet and a little over one mile.  A holy place to the Havasupai, and there are areas on top where one may find worked points.  Apparently it was the place to be to chip out tools.

Saturday down the South Kaibab.  Not as many people as last weekend, but they made up for it in obnoxiousness.  Or maybe since we hiked out BA last weekend, we missed the downhill scene on SK. 

One woman stepped to the side to allow me to come uphill, and a runner tried to cut between us.  "Right of way, excuse me".  I stood my ground.  "I have the right of way, excuse me".  Then a downhill runner hit my shoulder, and yelled, "Take up the whole trail why don't you?"  I yelled back, "Uphill has the right of way!"


About a half dozen kids (10 or 12 or so) were running down full tilt, arms and legs flailing, no control at all.  The trail was fairly crowded at this point.  Brad was rammed into  so abruptly the kid almost fell over.  Brad also got a bruise.  I got hit to the point where the runner was knocked sideways, and I yelled, "Uphill has the right of way!  Uphill has the right of way!"  The adult that I assume was with them also ran past and managed to clip my shoulder. 

We could have stepped aside when we saw them coming, but even if uphill did not have right of way, those kids were moving too fast to be safe,  either for themselves or for other people.  So why should we?  Later we passed an older lady who was moving a bit tenuously.  I shuddered to think of those kids ramming into her or bumping her sideways when they passed. 

I don't want to do a Maverick.  Maverick was a crotchety hiker who would regularly ram into downhill hikers, even if they weren't really in his way.  But these runners who think their speed is more important than other peoples' safety are out of line.  It is tempting to be at the BA in the afternoon when they drag their sorry selves back out. 

I have started thanking hikers who tell me they are going to pass me, and do so safely and politely. 

Sunday we got a late start and just bopped in and out of Bright Angel.  Not crowded at all first thing in the morning.  Probably worse later in the way, but no out of control runners. 

Snowed on Friday, so we sat around like toads.  Got out to walk to the PO, it started snowing again, and we wimped out and went home.

So, said we, we shall go long on Saturday.  To that end we got in line for the 6 AM hiker shuttle to the South Kaibab.  A regular bus pulled up and announced that the hiker shuttle was not stopping.  Sure enough, I espied it careening down the road away from us.  Accordingly, we hopped onto the regular shuttle.

At that early hour, it only took an extra 10 minutes or so to get to the trailhead.  Due to construction, the actual trailhead parking is closed, and the bus pulls up about a half mile away.  As I hot footed my way along (trying to beat the crowd behind me to the outhouse) I heard shrieks and giggles from ahead.  There was an entire bus-load of hikers posing for pictures.  At least fifty of them.  It was they who had filled up the hiker shuttle.  We scampered down to get ahead of the pack, and passed an adult with a couple of kids.

"What kind of group is this?" said I.

"UofA.  We are going to the river and back."

I looked askance at the little girl sitting there.  She could not have been more than eight.  "Today?"

"We've done this before," defensively.  I doubt the little girl had.

"Do you have a permit?"  According to the NPS website, groups which hike below the Tonto level on a day hike and have participants sign up ahead of time must have a permit.  She ignored me. So when I got back, I emailed the BCO and ratted them out.

Still more huge groups traveling down in clots of ten or so.  Got caught behind an older man who collected about 15 people behind him.  He never looked back, never offered to step aside.  I felt like a car behind an entire row of cars: I don't want to pass 15 people at once.  Maybe I can wait until Mormon Flat where the trail is wider. 

I kept having to stop as the crowd inched their way down the water bars.  This is how people feel on the Hillary step on Everest, I thought.  Then the guy behind me grumped, "Excuse me, please, on your left".  I thought, "If he is going to do it, so am I."  So I surged to the left, saying, "Excuse me, excuse me."  When I reached the bottleneck guy, there was a nice ledge of Supai, so I trotted along the rock ledge and emerged triumphant at the head of the line.

The guy STILL did not stop to let people pass.  I picked up speed so I would not get caught behind them again, and didn't even take our usual rest stop halfway down the Redwall.  Made it to the Tipoff in one hour forty-five, scooted off on the Tonto West, and finally sat down for a drink. 

Hiking across on the Tonto was a relief.  Only saw one other couple.  Got to Indian Garden and filled up on water.  There were not as many people on the BA as I had feared.  I guess they were all still at the River (or on their way down still). Should have gone back at dusk to sell flashlights. A hiker on Facebook posted a picture of a line of hikers at Indian Garden at 1:15 that day waiting to fill water.  There are at least 50 in line. 

I would bet a lot of the young kids had a very hard time getting out.  It is getting warm down there, too. 70 in the shade, which probably means 90 in the sun. 

Then Sunday we went back down to mile and a half to stretch out the muscles.  It felt pretty good, and we cleaned up some graffiti and carried out a batch of really gross TP and the auxiliary fecal matter which we had been eyeballing for at least a month.   Saw it over spring break, and it was just too icky to think about.  I scattered it to let it dry a bit, and we finally bit the bullet and carried it out.  Along with a sweatshirt, a part of sweatpants, a cotton tee, and one glove.  The ghost of Micheal Jackson, maybe? 

Also saw turkeys. No, real ones.  Wild turkeys below the rim. Climate getting warmer?  Nonsense

cactus just starting to bloom on the tonto

First canyon east of Garden Creek

Real turkeys on the trail for a change.

. 

Have not been keeping this up.  Since the last post, I have spent three days with Melissa assisting on the Geology on the Edge class.  I learned some more about rocks and was able to spread Mary Colter joy at the Watchtower.

I have been taking a lot of tours down the Hermit, if the people look halfway up for it, because the corridor is ridiculous what with Easter week and all, so I havent' been on the Kaibab.  My spies informed me that it was getting grafittied, so I spend two hours and three liters of water one day erasing most of it.  Even on the fossil footprints. Really?  

Then another geology class with Scottsdale Community College.  I was invited along as guest speaker to talk about history of trails.  I thought that would be lame, but the kids seemed to enjoy it.  Or maybe they were just being polite to the old broad.

Synapsid on the Hermit Trail

 This year's redbuds were not as good.  Also rather late.  We hiked down on April 1 to find about half of them out, then then next weekend and another half were out, while the rest had started to leaf already.  I have pictures from years past with the entire lower part of Indian Gardens glowing magenta. It cannot be the water: they grow by a spring. 

This year's redbuds

 We took off for Petrified Forest this weekend for a change of pace.  Hike to Onyx Bridge.  Last summer we flubbed around for hours looking for it.  No GPS, you understand. Well, a 30-year old GPS with batteries that kept bugging out on us.  We would get a reading, say, "Ok, we are still too far west" and lose the signal.  This year we walked right to it. I suppose that is the advantage of finding things the hard way: you REMEMBER where they are. 

Less scary part of the Blue Mesa trail

 We signed up for an Off The Beaten Path hike with the volunteers, Gary and Connie Grube.  It would have been a lot harder to find this "trail" without them.  Coming down off the ridge was scary with a lot of loose Shimarump pebbles.  Then we looped around to find some dino bones and teeth, which I cannot talk about the location of.  Of course, my old camera doesn't have GPS. 

rock art

 The volunteers told us how to find Pictograph Canyon, by following an old CC road and trail. We asked for further clarification from a volunteer at the VC, and he steered us spot on.  Several nice lion carvings.  Unfortunately, a few modern additions as well.  AJ: stay home.  The CCC "trail" was about half there. 

Keystone arch

We returned to thank the volunteer and he asked if we had been to Martha'a Butte.  Yep.  Blue Mesa,  Yeah.  Onyx.  Uh huh. Keystone Arch? No!  So he gave us sketchy directions to that.  Sketchy is good, because some of these things are best not advertised to the hoi paloi.  Especially that AJ. 

---

From my old files

rough trail

This is a trail?

Plains of Abraham

Steep

Blueberries fall colors

Blueberry tongues

Camp at Plains of Abraham

the mountain herownself

Hiking Circles around Mt. St. Helens

October, 2000

One of the advantages of hiking in the Pacific Northwest, as opposed to our usual venue of desert, is that there is abundant drinking water. So of course we elected to do a hike with no water at all. Well, almost no water at all.

I wanted to hike the Timberline Trail around Mt. Hood, but Brad has wanted to hike around St. Helens ever since it blew up, and Robbie wanted to do the hike that was shorter, so I was outvoted. I went to REI to buy a map, and the clerk said, "You're hiking St. Helens this late in the year?"
I replied naively, "I know the weather can change quickly, but it's forecast to clear up, and we always carry extra gear."

"Well, I think it's a good idea for people to hike our mountains in the fall. It keeps them humble." And with an evil laugh he vanished into the back room.

With that cheerful note, we packed enough clothes to see us through a minor blizzard and four days worth of food for a three day hike. The route we planned was 30 miles, which would normally figure to 10 miles a day, but there is no camping in the "blast zone". The zone is 9.5 miles wide, and there is no water for at about a mile on either side. That means the second day would be at least 11.5 miles.

One book I read recommended hiking clockwise, and one recommended counterclockwise. It is helpful when experts agree. We figure it's always nice to get the longest day out of the way, so we gathered at June Lake bright and early and started out clockwise on the Loowit Trail. The books had also warned that the trail was "new", rugged, poorly marked, and harder than it sounds. Since we are pretty strong and experienced, we figured we should be able to hold about 2.5 MPH, which is about what we do in the Grand Canyon. Once we hit the first lava flow, we had to re-figure to 1.5 MPH, which is closer to what we do off-trail in the GC.

I had opted not to carry a hiking stick on the plane (it wouldn't fit under the seat anyhow), and wasn't inclined to pay $25 for one at Jack's, where we picked up our parking permit (no hiking permits required yet), so I planned to pick up a hiking stick on the way. Well, those NW sticks are too skinny and crooked, and I hit the first lava flow with a forty-pound pack and no stick. I could feel those old "balance" muscles as I hip-hopped across the rocks. In the midst of the second flow, I found a stick abandoned right in the middle of the trail. That made things easier.

We hiked through odds and ends of old-growth forest and across a few lava flows, then climbed almost to 4800 feet to meet the summit trail. We saw one hiker silhouetted against the ridge on his way to the summit. That was the only hiker we saw in three days.

We were traveling much slower than we had planned. We find that if we stop for a packs-off rest about once an hour or so we make better time, but I do like to stop at an obvious goal. I was waiting for the next "feeder" trail to come up before I stopped so I would know how far we had hiked. I saw a wooden sign on the next ridge. Every other trail had a wooden sign, so I thought: "Good. There's the next trail, so we stop here." After our rest I climbed to the sign and it read "Practice Leave no Trace Camping". I do, and I'm glad they want everyone else to, but that was a shocker. We had stopped almost a mile short of where I'd wanted to rest.

We finally made it to the Toutle River, the last water source before the blast zone and a 11.5 mile day from the June Lake Trailhead. It was a steep, long climb down into the river bed. At one point I was declaiming to Robbie (educational time) that on St. Helens, most of the water soaked into the pumice like a sponge, whereas on a normal mountain, there would be rivulets of water running down every slope. I pointed up to demonstrate and found myself staring face to face with a bear. Well, it was about a tenth of a mile way, but still...

We got a little excited about that, and decided that at least it wasn't a mother with a cub when a SECOND bear appeared. Hmmm, either twin cubs, or a mother with a real-ly big baby. They gave me a dirty look and waddled off up the hill looking for berries, and we proceeded downhill making a lot more noise than we had been previously.

The clouds had been playing peek-a-boo all day, and they lowered ominously as the night drew on. I had to climb down a deep cut in the mud to fill my water container, but the water was fairly clear. I had been warned about ash and pumice in the water clogging up the filter, so I brought our Katadyne filter. It is heavy, awkward, and slow, but it will purify raw sewage, and when it clogs you can scrub it clean in un-purified water. As it turned out, there was little or no snow melt so I did find fairly clear water. I could definitely see how one could run into trouble earlier in the year as runoff carried more crud into the stream. Since we entered the river bed we had been on pumice and mud deposited by the massive floods following the 1980 eruption.

What with our neighboring bears and all we wanted to hang the food well, but you have to hang food at least 40 feet off the ground to keep it safe from bears, and the only tree in the area was 10 feet high. We got it was high as we could, and hoped that these were not "garbage" bears. Or maybe our pitiful "bear-proof" setup would lead them to paroxysms of laughter and we would hear them in time to chase them off.  Since we had heard no warnings, we figured they were probably more interested in the berries than freeze-dried stroganoff. We were plenty warm enough in the tent. I had to listen to the usual nonsense about bringing the "small" tent to save weight. However I had also been listening to the usual nonsense about how heavy the packs were, so does anyone see a problem with this?

All night the wind sounded like rain on the tent, so I steeled myself to face fog, rain, sleet and maybe a small blizzard when I unzipped in the morning. Instead -- sunrise! Blue sky! It cleared up! We packed quickly to take advantage of the good weather and climbed into the blast zone.

I had visited the St. Helens area in the summer of 1981 when mud flow damage along the riverbed was still visible from the highways. We had been to the visitors' center several times. I have read several books about the eruption and seen a few videos. It did not completely hit home until I walked through the destruction on foot.

We crossed pumice plains where the only thing growing after twenty years was moss and lichen. We walked through deep gullies which had been flowing rim to rim with hot, roiling mud. We could see the dome looming in the crater and steaming hot Loowit Falls spilling over the crater edge.
We planned lunch for Loowit Creek, since my guidebook had said it was "steaming hot" and we figured our feet deserved a good soak. The water was barely tepid: too far from the source, I guess, and liquid mud. That's where the Katadyne would have proved worth its weight.

The trail crossing the blast zone is not well traversed. Robbie and I excel at following faint tracks, and we lost it twice. We climbed Windy Pass, slowly. It was late afternoon by this time, and the end of another long day. At Windy Pass we were out of the blast zone and able to camp, but there was no water. Conversely there was a lot of water in the blast zone, where you can't camp. I guess when you strip the land down to bedrock, there is more water available.

A couple of miles across the Plains of Abraham and we found water, 12.5 miles since morning. We passed and re-passed two mountain bikers who were riding back and forth along the better part of the trail. Our campsite was above Ape Canyon, with a clear view across the valley to Mt. Adams. It was cold but clear, and we had a magnificent sunset. There are places that I muse upon when I need to relax or lower my blood pressure. This campsite became one of those places. The lonely, bare Plains of Abraham, St. Helens looming behind us, Ape Canyon falling away below us and sweeping out to Mt. Adams.

Another quiet night, until something went "click!". I woke up instantly. I listened with all my might, but I could hear nothing. I've had bears in camp before, and they rarely click. Unless maybe they were eating the tent, stakes first. Or throwing dice to see who got to eat me first.

I pulled my bag over my ears and tried to sleep, and "click!" again. So I climbed over Robbie (the small tent, remember?), pulled on boots and surveyed the area with a flashlight. There was a sliver of a moon, a thousand stars, and nothing else. Not even a wind. I stayed out as long as I could stand the cold to watch for northern lights or bears, but neither were in evidence, so I crawled back in. As I balanced myself on one hand, the corner of the tent "clicked" again, so it must have been the tent poles doing something weird. Or the ghost of Harry Truman. Anyway, the noise stopped.
In the morning it was clear again. We scattered rocks around our tent site so no one could tell we had spent the night there. Leave No Trace, and we didn't want to spoil this special spot for the next person. We had our reward for two long days: only a 6 mile day today. It was rough: we had to cross newly cut arroyos at Shoestring Glacier and Pine Creek. Usually we didn't even have a real trail climbing in or out of these steep canyons: it was washed out. Robbie kicked in the first footprints and we followed.

We hit a slope full of ripe huckleberries, leaves red in the autumn frost. Robbie was off ahead, and while he is pretty big now, I could still remember those bears. Walking alone through the huckleberries is not the best place to meet a bruin with offspring. I ran to catch up and convinced him to slow down enough to eat some berries and let his parents be sure he wasn't today's blue plate special.

Back into the forest, back to June Lake, and out. A very rough three days. It is recommended that four days are more sane, but with the water situation, one either has to carry water or hike until one finds water. One could hike from June Lake to Chocolate Falls and camp, then to the Toutle River, and thence the Plains of Abraham, but there is still no camping in the blast zone. One cannot get around that long day across the destruction area.

The trail is rough, as advertised. We could only go as fast as we usually go off trail in the Grand Canyon, and that is rough. Often we had to pick a route through loose pumice at the angle of repose, or find a way through washed-out mud. Robbie and I lost our way three times, which we almost never do, so it is also not the best marked or worn-in path. We only saw three other people, and I only picked up seven pieces of trash in three days. We were very lucky to hit good Indian Summer Weather. We could not have stayed on the route if the visibility were bad enough that we could not look ahead to see the continuation of the trail. It was a primo hike for strong, experienced backpackers who are comfortable on rough routes. It was an old-fashioned hike: no cell phone, no GPS, just the three of us, the ten essentials, and our 60 years combined backpacking experience.
The following weekend was clear, so we drove out to the St. Helens visitors' centers and day-hiked to Harry's Ridge. Looking at the vast expanse of the blast zone, it looked too far for one day, particularly with heavy packs. I can't believe we hiked the who-ole thing!

Where does the name "Loowit" come from? This is the version of the legend I read: there are others. Loowit was the lady of fire who ruled over the only fire in the world, on a stone bridge across the Columbia River. She had eternal life and was given youth and beauty by the Great Sprit. The Great Spirit's sons both fell in love with Loowit, and fought over her. The Great Spirit knocked down the bridge, forming the Cataracts of the Columbia, and turned all three into mountains. One son is Mt. Adams, one is Hood, and the lady of fire is St. Helens.

For birthday this year, I had my usual cabin at Phantom, and we spent the layover day hiking to the top of Phantom Rock.  Well, where one can see the top.  I'm not crazy yet.  Just climb up the Clear Creek Trail and turn left.

We figured it would be pretty easy off trail to walk the Tonto level.  After all, this is where the Tonto Trail exists on the south side.  At first it was OK, then we got into a couple of rock slides which were hairy.  Fortunately I found a game trail that led us through the worst of things.  We spotted a cairn where we needed to climb down for our view.  Coincidence? 

A slippery down climb led us to the view.  It was nervous-making for me to sit that close to the cliff for so long, and I freaked myself out hiking back.  I spotted the game trail again, about 200 feet below us, and after a sketchy down climb/slide/slip got back into the groove.  

Then two days later I hiked down with NPS fish crew to help clear invasive trout from Bright Angel Creek.  We walked slowly upstream shocking fish to stun them, gathered them all up, counted the natives and disposed of the trout.  The trout are killed, then cleaned, then the larger ones given to any who wish to consume them.  Smaller trout are sent to an aviary in New Mexico where the Zuni raise eagles for ceremonial purposes.  Part of the job is PR, so when hikers stopped to see what was happening, someone bounded up to the trail to explain.  Apparently the fly fishermen are not pleased with this project.  But like the fish crew says, there are trout all over the world.  The humpback chub is only found in the Colorado River drainage.

Then the govmint shut down, so we were supposed to hike out early.  A surprise blizzard moved in that night, so we were told to hang around, clean the bunkhouse, inventory the supplies, and don't have any fun.  I left the bunkhouse an hour before the kids so they wouldn't have to wait for me.  One of them left an hour and a half after I did and caught me at the rim, but the rest not.  Guess there is life in the old girl yet.

What a nice week spent with lovely young people who do important work in the out of doors.  Trained scientists, many of them with Master's Degrees, working at temporary jobs because there aren't full time positions. The way they bounded gracefully from wet rock to wet rock was rather disconcerting as I dragged my elder self up and around the boulders.  Flaunting their supple muscles and flexible joints.  Just wait guys.  Time catches up with us all.