Beyond Sea Level Blog

New Year, New Adventures

2010-12-31T19:33:00.000-08:00

We've just returned from a backpacking trip to Shi Shi Beach in Olympic National Park with my nephews where we came upon a very young sea otter pup. It seemed a fitting way to bring in the new year. Most otter pups don't survive their first winter, much less their first year. Face-to-face with the constant struggle to survive we were reminded of how well off we are - friends, family, all of the basic necessities, and a few luxuries as well. Hope for 2011 filled the air. Setbacks would occur. Triumphs would be lost in the bustle of modern life. But poignant reminders of who we are, what we value, and why we surround ourselves with people like you will be ever-present..if only we take the time to look.

Best wishes to you and yours this New Year. May it be filled with hope, joy, and magical moments of unanticipated wonder.

Sea Otter pup at Shi Shi Beach crying for mom.

Updates and News Flashes

2010-05-13T11:19:00.000-07:00

Despite not actively blogging lately, Beyond Sea Level (BSL) has been quietly active. It's about time we bring that energy back to the blog! We'll begin with some updates and news flashes.

Updates:
Dale has fully recovered from January's week-long stay in the hospital following an emergency appendectomy. All that remains of the ordeal is a 3-inch scar across his lower abdomen, and the distasteful memory of an unfortunate experience with lime-green hospital jello.

We have settled in the Seattle area, and are excited for Beyond Sea Level to grow from sea level itself.

Speaking of growing...

BSL in the Press!
Check our our recent cover article in OutThere Monthly (OTM)!

Based out of Spokane, WA, OTM is a fun, high-energy, information-rich publication highlighting recreational opportunities in the Inland Northwest. Our article offers three weekend, or week-long backpacking experiences along the PNT.

Download a PDF version of OTM's current issue to read "Hiking and Camping on the Pacific Northwest Trail". Even better, if you live in the Inland Northwest, pick up a hard copy and support OTM!

BSL at REI!
If you're local to the Puget Sound area, join us for a presentation of our Pacific Northwest Trail experience at the REI Seattle Flagship store! We'll be presenting a talk entitled, "Gaining Perspective Along the Pacific Northwest Trail" on Thursday, May 27th at 7pm. Click the link above to get a description of the talk.

Things are moving forward in exciting and refreshing ways here at BSL. We're eager to share with you more of our perspectives from Beyond Sea Level. Keep checking back!

Callae and Dale

Bursting into the New Year!

2010-01-14T16:30:00.000-08:00

You never know when something will occur that will put your long-discussed, well-laid plans on hold.

After completion of our PNT adventure in late October, Dale and I spent some much needed, much appreciated and enjoyable time with friends and family, both in the Northwest and in Colorado. For the first time in many years we found ourselves embraced by family for the fall and winter holidays. In Washington we carved pumpkins for Halloween, and gorged on delicious food during a boisterous Thanksgiving Dinner. In Colorado we experienced a wonderful, wintry Christmas and quietly rang in a chilly New Year playing card games.

As midnight faded into January first, we leaned into each other, gently kissed, and both felt a rising sense of excitement and eagerness for our 2010 goals. This is the year we plan to take Beyond Sea Level from blog to small business. This is the year we plan to use our passions and long-earned skills to develop an environmental outreach organization. A kind of "ecotourism for the mind", we envision offering a series of environmentally-themed courses for life-long learners who want to improve critical thinking skills regarding current and future environmental concerns. Through this effort participants will move beyond their own personal sea levels to gain perspective on how we impact and coexist with the ecosystems we live in. We want to raise the importance of the environment in the voting booth, and by doing so make positive change in the state of our natural world and the only planetary home we have. We will accomplish this through an unbiased, even-handed approach in which people are encouraged to draw their own conclusions regarding their environmental decisions. We want to make a positive difference in the world and we plan to begin in the Puget Sound area.

That being said, Dale and I set out for the Pacific Northwest in early January with a few simple goals in mind; 1) Find immediate employment that will 2) sustain ourselves (food and housing) while we 3) apply for grants and develop curriculum for the future of Beyond Sea Level (BSL).

Unfortunately, our plans have been temporarily put on hold. A minor set-back has slowed our blogging and our forward movement in Seattle. The culprit – a burst appendix - deep in Dale’s abdomen.

Okay, so many people experience appendicitis. (According to WebMD, appendicitis will effect one in fifteen U.S. citizens). For most folks, it’s not a big deal. However, if your appendix bursts two weeks before you have it removed…well that is a problem. Yes, you read that right. Two weeks. We honestly didn’t know. Dale was feeling discomfort in Colorado around Christmas that we attributed it to high-elevation (sleeping at 8,500 feet), flu symptoms or other common gastro-intestinal issues. Clearly, something more serious was going on - serious enough that I am posting this from the hospital, six long days after surgery.

The good news – we’re doing okay. Dale’s fine. He’s in discomfort, and annoyed by the setback, but more himself every day. Since the appendix had already ruptured, and formed a lovely pus-pocket in his gut, the hospital in-patient time is extended. There’s a concern about further infection, and we’ve learned a new term: paralytic ileus. An ileus could be called “frozen gut” and not in a fun, “I’ve had too much ice cream too fast” kind of way. No, instead your bowels basically go to sleep. Until they wake up and start working again you can’t leave the hospital. So essentially we’ve been sitting around for days and days waiting for Dale to pass gas. (Giggling is definitely allowed.)

If my discussion of bodily function does not exactly correspond with our loftier plans post-appendicitis-recovery, keep in mind we also spent 3.5 months on the trail when we dug cat holes to bury our waste, peed next to each other on the trail, and could easily sink into the realm of “body-function-jokes” to keep ourselves entertained on long hiking days. And it’s exactly these moments when humor becomes as healing as the happy-drugs they push for pain.

So I post this from the hospital where Dale is resting quietly and we wait for gas to pass. We’ve been warned that recovery from this kind of acute appendicitis can take a while. We plan to use that time to continue the job search, and move forward on making BSL a reality. We will continue to blog. And we will always be grateful this did not happen out on the trail in a wilderness area miles from a trail head.

What a way to burst into the New Year, eh?

Lessons Relearned - Rationing

2009-12-30T18:36:00.000-08:00

Many of life's lessons must, unfortunately, be relearned.

It was several days before we hit the Devil's Ridge trail deep in the Pasayten Wilderness that we knew our food was low. The scenery, the terrain, and the weather had all conspired against us. We had spent extra days in locations too spectacular to linger only briefly. That splendor derived, at least partially, from the grueling elevation changes we encountered daily. And it was September in the North Cascades – when not spitting on us, the clouds loomed forebodingly, the wind howled, and the elevation warned of snow.

We carefully estimated calories, allotting similar amounts for each of the meals remaining before we would arrive back in “civilization”. We planned aggressive hiking days over Tatoosh Buttes, Sky Pilot Pass, and Devil's Dome. At the same time we talked of caution on the trail, for accidents and injuries happen when low blood sugar leads to poor judgment. Our independent, stubborn personalities would be a problem. When only one of us wanted to push forward an extra mile or two, frustration mounted.

Our final meal consisted of a few handfuls of dried carrots and celery floating in thin vegetable broth. Not a very satisfying supper after hiking a dozen miles with a pack in fall weather. Your body needs calories to burn to keep you warm while the rain on the tent keeps you awake. Carrots don't have much fat and celery is pretty lean in the protein department.

That was the only time we ran out of food on the entire PNT. While we had been continuously burning more calories than we ingested, this was the only time when hunger could find no relief – the food bags were bare.

When we look back on that week in the high country we are reminded of how profoundly it affected our abilities. Cold fingers take longer to set up camp. Cooperation becomes an effort rather than second nature. Perception distance shortens. No one chooses to live like that.

Yet families in your own community look at the calendar every month and must start rationing food. Sacrifices are made until payday arrives. Like us on the trail, supplies don't just materialize out of thin air - you fight through to them as best you can.

Think about all of the benefits regular, healthy meals provide: Kids are better able to pay attention in school developing knowledge and social skills that will benefit society for decades to come; Parents have more patience and more energy, making them better role models; all of us are more capable at everything we do, creating success, improving self-confidence, and laying the groundwork for higher achievement.

Now is the time of year when new calendars go up. The time when we record vacations, birthdays and other special events. Now would be a great time to add a food bank reminder. Now would be a great time to take food rationing off the calendar of a local family. Should you donate every month? Every third month? That is up to you. How much to give? Again, give whatever you feel comfortable with.

We always hear how charitable giving goes up around the holidays and tax time. Hunger isn't so predictable. So plan to give throughout the year. And while you are placing reminders on your calendar, look up the address and phone number of your nearest food bank or shelter. When February or April comes and that reminder jumps out at you, call them up and ask what they could use – make the most of your effort.

We've all needed help from time to time. Let's remember to give back.

Happy Holidays. And may your only rationing this season be of cookies and fudge.

Support Local Libraries!

2009-12-21T10:55:00.000-08:00

Imagine two dusty, grimy, fatigued hikers coming into a small town in northern Washington after 100-some miles on the trail. They are hungry and stinky. They look forward to the simple pleasures civilization can offer - the possibility of a shower, a bed, and a hot meal. If they pass a library sign on their way to achieve cleanliness and satiation, however, they may do a little jump for joy despite the weight on their backs. In fact, our 1200 mile trek would have been far more challenging without libraries to support us along the way. We owe many libraries in the remote landscape of the Northwest a great deal of thanks.

For Dale and me, libraries offered a refuge. At often tiny libraries in small towns along the Pacific Northwest Trail we found a warm, comfortable shelter where we could sit down in a chair for a few moments and catch our breath before connecting with the outside world. Thanks to libraries we learned they finally buried Michael Jackson after far too much hoopla, as well as Senator Ted Kennedy, an event we took more somberly. In libraries we corresponded with friends and family via e-mail, and posted new stories to the blog. Before heading out into town we got recommendations for local eateries and accommodations from friendly librarians. Whenever we came into a town to pick up our food box, we kept a sharp eye out for the local library.

We encountered our first library in Eureka, Montana. After admiring the detailed three-dimensional mural on an external wall we took over one of the few tables in the small building to catch up on our lives outside of the hike. We were thrilled to access free WiFi in a place that lacked any cell phone coverage. We even thumbed through a few books – a tantalizing peek into stories and images otherwise inaccessible on the trail.

Mural depicting historical events on wall of library in Eureka, MT

Some libraries along the hike were so small as to have limited weekly hours. The tiny Northport, WA library – once the town jail – was staffed just a couple days a week. We felt fortunate to show up at a time the small building was open. There we caught up on e-mail, thumbed through magazines with pretty, glossy pictures, posted blogs, and enjoyed the unique atmosphere of a library/historical museum. The jail cell had been converted to a children's reading room – I think I know a few moms who wouldn't mind an opportunity to lock up their kids somewhere they can read quietly. Dresses on display from the early 1900s hung incongruously with neon-pink signs proclaiming “Animanga Club meets Tuesdays”. The librarian offered to keep the WiFi signal turned on when she left for the week so we could continue to work outside the building after hours. Thank you, kind librarian!

Entrance to library/museum in Northport, WA

Children's reading room in converted jail cell of Nortport, WA library

The slightly larger library in Concrete, Washington, also opened only a few days. Yet we were able to connect to the outside world via a WiFi feed broadcast outside the building. Large posters on locked doors provided the access password and external outlets offered a valuable power source. While our rears got sore sitting on the hard concrete sidewalk, we were very grateful to be able to connect to the internet.

We came across the largest library along the PNT route in Port Townsend, WA. Their two story, stucco building hummed with activity, even in the middle of a weekday. The library was so busy, in fact, we never even found a place to sit. While most visitors seemed to be on computers, others prowled the stacks, and read in one of the scarce chairs about the place. We escaped the midday-crush of visitors and gratefully returned to fresh outside air where we discovered a sweet, feline statuette just outside the library's entrance.

Library in Port Townsend, WA

Cat sculpture outside Port Townsend, WA library

In Forks, WA – yes, that Forks - the librarians seemed pretty used to strangers hoping for an on-line connection. Yet despite (or perhaps on account of) the small town's heightened “Twilight” popularity, Forks' librarians greeted us with warm, wide smiles - no pointy canines or incisors to be seen.

While Dale and I both always liked libraries, we really came to appreciate them over the course of our hike. The proliferation of public places reminded us that local libraries offer a multitude of services to the general public for only a nominal yearly tax. For one, they open a door into the wonderful world of books, and books offer escape, or background to our histories, context for our lives, and promise for our futures. Movies and music are free, and you can peruse a variety of magazines and journals without needing a subscription. Libraries are where mothers can bring their young children for story time and retirees can research that hobby they've always wanted to try. It's a place where students can study, or simply lose themselves in daydreams. It's where people gather to talk about books, or share community concerns. People go to libraries to research new careers. And more than ever, in today's economy, libraries have been invaluable to so many who find themselves in the strange and uncomfortable position of looking for employment. It seemed appropriate and fitting, then, that we gave our first public presentation about our PNT hike in a public library.

Sadly, libraries around the country are feeling the devastating impact of our current economic troubles. Libraries are closing, and like too many others right now, many wonderful folks are losing jobs they love dearly. Since the librarians I know are so deeply passionate and enthusiastic about their work it seems like an extra blow to remove them from the thing they love best in the world. In addition, invaluable services to the community at large are disappearing. Many librarians are as devastated about the loss of library services to patrons as they are about being out of work.

The stories we've heard about branch closures and lost jobs reminds us to consider our own local libraries. We fully support the institutions that provide so much to the community, and offer refuges for locals and transients alike. So here's a big Thank You to all the libraries who offered respite during our long hike. We also want to give a special Thanks to the Aurora Public Library for letting us share our PNT experience a week ago. It meant a great deal to us to be able to share our story in a place that holds so many other stories. We hope we'll be able to pass on more of our PNT experience in future library presentations. In an effort to keep these institutions up and running we will certainly support library initiatives in future voting opportunities. In the meantime, one of the first things we do when we settle will be to get a library card!

Seeing Stars

2009-11-29T20:52:00.000-08:00

Walking along the Pacific Northwest coast means walking along tide pools thriving with life - life that becomes exposed to the air and our eager eyes during low tides. We spent one especially memorable afternoon moving among rocks piled with Ochre sea stars and I got a little carried away with taking pictures of their artistically arranged bodies against the barnacled, seaweed-choked rocks and fine gray beach sand.

After the second young person to see the orange sea star on the rock above called out happily, “It's Patrick!”, I finally found out they were referring to the five-armed, orange companion to that yellow, pant-wearing cartoon sponge who lives under the sea. That's what I get for being old enough to have missed the SpongeBob SquarePants phenomenon, and for not having any of my own kids since SpongeBob splashed into Saturday morning cartoons. (And yes, I had to Google how to spell his name.)

These Ochre sea stars come in a variety of colors from orange to purple, brownish, or reddish. They are extremely tolerant out of water and can be exposed to the air for up to six hours.

Commonly miscalled star-fish, sea stars are in fact, not fish. Along with sea urchins and sea cucumbers, these Ochre stars are part of the phylum Echinodermata.

Echinoderm means “spiny skin” and if you've ever touched one of these prickly creatures you know why they were named that.

The underbelly, or under arms as it were, of these sea creatures is covered in rows and rows of tiny tube feet. These small appendages help sea stars suction to rocks, and allow them to move and feed.

Ochre sea stars eat shelled animals like barnacles, snails, chitons, limpets and mussels. I wonder if Patrick would be as beloved if his young admirers knew that in order to eat he pries open the shell of a mussel and extrudes his stomach into the opening. The meat of the mussel will literally be dissolved and eaten within its own shell! Yum. Yet without the predacious sea stars, mussels like the ones above could take over entire tide pool habitats.

The mussels have one thing in their favor - sea stars smell. It's likely the mussels to the right of the orange sea star above will detect their predator's scent and will stay closed up tight even when the tide rises again.

Aww ... pretty. Art found in nature is indeed inspiring. How could we not be star struck?

Turkeys

2009-11-26T12:57:00.000-08:00

Turkeys east of Goldstake, Washington

We have lots of traditions centered around turkeys in this country –

Millions are consumed for Thanksgiving, the president annually pardons a couple of birds, “sparing” them from the dinner table (what actually happens to them anyway? Is there an old fowl home where they while away their days in rockers?), and we search the supermarket fliers for the best price on frozen (sometimes fresh), big-breasted, butter-balled blocks wrapped in plastic that bear no resemblance to the birds pictured above.

Given that our urbanized population lacks an appreciation for where our food comes from – what if we changed that last tradition? What if we selected the centerpiece of our holiday tables fully feathered? What if we drove out to a commercial poultry farm, walked among the thousands of white birds, and picked out our favorite gobbler to be killed, plucked and delivered the following week? (Of course, the Wild Turkey Federation encourages us all to take up hunting for what was almost our nation’s symbol.) Perhaps the protein smothered in gravy or slathered with cranberry sauce on our sandwich the next day would hold more meaning. Perhaps the gap between the grocery store and the farm would be reduced. Perhaps we would be more thankful for those who devote their lives to growing the food we consume. Perhaps we would be thankful for living in a country whose natural landscapes were home to the first turkey. Perhaps we would have a greater appreciation for the landscapes themselves and all they provide for us. Perhaps.

Me? I’m off to the store – Christmas hams are on sale.

PNT Slide Presentation!

2009-11-24T14:56:00.000-08:00

Our dear friend Megan Ellis has arranged for a public presentation of slides and stories from our PNT hike at the Aurora Public Library in Colorado. Here is pertinent information about the talk as well as copies of Megan's promotional fliers (click on to see larger).

What: Stepping Away: Adventures on the Pacific Northwest Trail

When: Saturday December 12, from 3-5pm.

Where: Aurora Central Library, Community Room. 14949 E. Alameda Pkwy. Aurora, CO 80012
Directions to the presentation can be found on the Central Aurora Public Library website.

If you'd like us to give a presentation in your neck of the woods, please contact us!

beyondsealevelblog@gmail.com

The Pacific Northwest Coast

2009-11-22T14:28:00.001-08:00

The Pacific Northwest coast is a stunning, thriving cacophony of movement and sound – a rich ecosystem that tantalizes with its intriguing blend of life and death and decay and transition. Deep green forests line miles of rocky cliffs and sand and pebble beaches. Waves flow, crash and resound in a daily tidal cycle against the changing lines of land. We immersed ourselves in this arresting landscape for a full week where we experienced as many shifts in weather as we did tides, and discovered strange, wonderful, curious and sometimes disturbing images along the beach. Here are some of those images with more to come in future coastal-themed blogs.

Olympic National Park's coastal section between Chilean memorial and Cedar creek

Driftwood north of Rialto beach

Watching the waves on a surprising sunny day in October

Sea stacks at sunrise

Wave-induced stone and pebble beach art

Man-made driftwood artwork - a coastal Christmas tree?

Seabirds awaiting the storm

Watery Reflections

2009-11-02T15:56:00.000-08:00

7 October 2009 – Fort Worden State Park
Musings from the entrance to Puget Sound - while we had finally reached sea level, many more miles and mountains lay ahead...

Standing atop a bluff overlooking the sound,
we watch the moon rise.

Below us the tide rhythmically laps
at the shore -
each wave the steady tick of a clock drawing us backward
through the days of our journey -
reflections on the trials and challenges receding behind us.

The waves crash on the beach
overlap with those before,
blur the rhythm,
melt memories together.

The chill on the wind moves us forward.

-DT

Moon over Puget Sound, WA

Still Moving Forward

2009-10-25T10:50:00.000-07:00

Reaching a milestone, or 1200 of them, is often followed by a let down. Along with a sense of accomplishment comes an emptiness. The question looms... "What next?"

Well don't worry about us!

We've spent much of the last three months in deep, eager, excited discussions of our next direction and what future challenges await.

While our journey to the Pacific has ended, our reflections and perspectives from Beyond Sea Level continue.

We welcome you to visit often for more stories and pictures from our long hike while we transition to new enterprises.

Turner Falls, East of Yaak, Montana

NEWS - END OF PNT TRAIL REACHED

2009-10-25T09:30:00.000-07:00

1,293 +/- miles in 110 days, averaging 11 _/- miles per day.

Trail Map updated - latest Callae/Dale blog posted shortly.

[posted by Alan/Rachelle Frazier]

Not an Island

2009-10-17T11:58:00.000-07:00

A quick note from the Forks library (member of the North Olympic Library System) before heading out to the beach...

No journey of this duration happens without assistance from family, friends and strangers (new friends). As our adventure nears completion we would like to recognize some of the help we have received along the way and offer a sincere Thanks! From rides to and from trailheads to surprises in our resupply boxes to smiles of welcome in small towns across the Northwest our trip would not have been the same without the contributions of many people.

Just a few of the those who have helped us out along the way...

Jan and Horace Thuline drove us from Seattle to Glacier National Park. Despite some reservations about the size of our packs they waved goodbye over three months ago at the Bowman Lake campground.

Alan and Rachelle Frazier made sure each of our food boxes arrived at their proper destination on time. Thanks to the inconsistency in the implementation of the US Postal Service's policy on General Delivery packages this was a much larger task than simply dropping boxes off at their local office in Conifer. And the inclusion of Alan's original sketches and Rachelle's treats, wildlife humor and relevant quotations added meaning and anticipation to the opening of each box.

Ron and Anny Tessin will be (we hope) waiting for us at the Ozette Lake Trailhead when we walk out of the wilderness. While we will definitely appreciate the ride - it is their willingness to ride with us, unshowered, that earns our sincerest thanks.

Brian Van Wieren and Laura Wilson journeyed to Washington to share some of the experience with us. They brought sunshine and good conversation - unfortunately they took the sun with them when they left.

Meals and engaging conversation were shared, and local knowledge was passed on with too many people to list here, but don't worry, we know how to find you.

We are also indebted to everyone who has emailed, commented on posts, or mailed letters for us to read on the trail - thanks for taking the time, providing your insights, and sharing our journey.

Our traverse was made unique by the efforts you put forth - the memories we have and the stories we will tell are the products. We look forward to sharing more experiences with all of you.

Callae and Dale

NEWS: Forks reached

2009-10-17T09:22:00.001-07:00

October 16th - After a very wet soggy trek through the Olympics, Forks reached. Final PNT leg is along the coast to Ozetta Lake and Cape Alava.

Trail map updated.

[Posted by Alan/Rachelle Frazier]

Power Disadvantage

2009-10-16T19:05:00.000-07:00

You really appreciate the power of electrical power when you no longer have any. We've been “experiencing technical difficulties” with the power supply for our computer, and as such do not anticipate any new blog posts before the end of the journey. Alan Frazier will continue to post updates about our progress, and we will continue to add new posts when we finally return to civilization (in time for Halloween - do you think we dress up as smelly hikers?) and our power cord adapter.

Check back for updates and new posts!

Signage

2009-10-15T12:55:00.000-07:00

We came across this sign in Deception Pass State Park on Whidbey Island and immediately wondered what exactly it was telling us. Is the rather stiff $87 fine for...

Having your dog on a leash?
Letting your dog sit?
Letting your dog sit while leashed?
Standing while your dog sits?
Watching your dog sit?
Stepping on your dog's tail?
Keeping your dog off the playground equipment?

Food Thoughts

2009-10-12T10:09:00.000-07:00

On a trip like ours, food is much more important than something you literally cannot live without.

We like to eat. The result - we carry more weight in food than typical long-distance hikers. It's a quality of life thing. So we've striven to find interesting and creative ways to make our potentially monotonous staple supply of nourishment more interesting to the palette. For instance, powdered coconut milk in our morning oatmeal makes breakfast interesting again. Mixing chicken stock, butter and Parmesan cheese into rehydrated green beans adds a new sparkle and desperately needed calories to a dinner side-dish. Powdered peanut butter added to chocolate pudding leads to a protein-rich post-dinner treat. Despite the obvious shortcomings of dehydrated and freeze-dried food planned three months in advance, imaginative preparations have kept our pre-packed food enjoyable.

At the same time, we truly appreciate opportunities to supplement, even replace our must-add-water meals with fresh fruits and berries. Early in the summer we painstakingly bent over with full packs to pinch off tiny, intensely-flavored wild strawberries from their low-growing stems. We let the juice of fat, soft thimbleberries run down our chins when we passed through their shoulder-high growth. Later in the season wild huckleberries provided refreshing bursts of wet sweetness. In fact, when we ran dangerously low on food near the end of our nearly two-weeks in the Pasayten, alpine huckleberries became invaluable as we gathered the small round, chilled berries by the handful on rainy Sky Pilot Pass. Earlier that week we'd plucked tantalizingly delicious purple vaccinium berries at 7,400 feet. The miniature purple berries were nearly hidden among the thick green ground cover just shifting into the russet hues of autumn. Then, days after the autumn equinox, we walked through the Skagit valley, a lovely agricultural mecca nestled between the western Cascades and saltwater. We could almost forget the pain of hiking miles of asphalt when we crunched into fresh, crisp apples straight from the tree.

And recently we were reminded the simplest meals can often be the most satisfying. Imagine our excitement when we found ourselves at Toby's Tavern on Whidbey Island sharing a meal of fresh, local mussels with new-found friends and fellow campers. We lifted pints of cold beer before diving into giant bowls of the wine-steamed bivalves, complemented with fresh sourdough bread and lively conversation. The joy of food, and company, need not come in fancy packages.

Food can complement your location and provide a creative outlet. Food tastes best straight from the source, especially when you have no other. And food grounds us. Food is much more than nourishment for survival – we are what, where, and how we eat.

Skagit Valley apples, crisp, sweet and delicious

Through thick and thin (air, that is)

2009-10-09T10:05:00.000-07:00

On top of the world at 7200 feet, and at two...

Enjoying the view from atop the Tatoosh Buttes, Pasayten Wilderness Area

Watching for seals in Padilla Bay (our first salt water)

Chasing Cows

2009-10-05T18:11:00.000-07:00

When you get out of bed in the morning, it is impossible to predict what the most memorable event of the day will be. Take for instance the fifth of September, the day we walked into Oroville, WA. On this drizzly, chilly Saturday we hiked over seventeen miles, dropped a couple thousand feet in elevation, and we went from quasi-wilderness into a developed agricultural valley. We traversed abandoned logging roads and state highways. We spotted big horn sheep for the first time on this trip and watched a black bear on a ridge overlooking town. We ate prime rib for dinner and showered before going to bed. But none of these ranked as the most memorable event of the day.

Okanogan River valley south of Oroville, Washington

Bighorn Sheep above Whistler's Canyon

Black bear overlooking Oroville, Washington

The day's most memorable event centers on a small part of a cow that few of us choose to eat - the brain. Most animals, when surprised in the wild, flee from your presence. This is true not only of wildlife such as deer, elk, bears and even squirrels, but also the feral cow. So when faced with the negligible threat of two ambling hikers so loaded down with packs they are unable to give chase even if desired, cows flee. And using their domesticated brains, they flee in the path of least resistance. Ironically, this is the only path through the forest and therefore the one that we too will take down the hillside.

On this day we saw many cows. Black ones, brown ones, big ones, little ones, young and old. All branded and ear-tagged. Many curious from a distance, but ultimately skittish. We were about halfway down Whistler's Canyon when we came upon a cow and her calf innocently grazing by the side of the trail. As we neared, they fled. We followed their obvious tracks down the rain-dampened path, guessing how long it would be before they veered into the brush. To our amusement we regularly caught up to the wary cud-chewers, stopped in the middle of the trail. Using their highly developed bovine brains they undoubtedly thought they'd given us the slip only to see us walking down the trail behind them. Again, they'd be off. This time with poo plopping audibly behind the young calf. Poo, the color of fresh ground peanut butter, quite unlike the darker weathered patties we'd been stepping around for weeks. Poo, that assured us even a mile later we were still hot on the cows' trail.

Several poo-splatters later, the first two cows picked up reinforcements. Their collective gray matter examined the situation and all concurred; the established trail was their best escape route. By mile three there were too many tracks to determine the exact number of cows we were chasing down the hill at the breathtaking pace of two miles an hour. We followed those cows for over five miles. Neither our tired feet nor the perpetual rain could dampen our spirits given the entertainment provided by a handful of feral cows. Cows too stupid to step off the established trail. Cows that skirted downed trees across their path only to immediately return to ours. Cows who evacuated their bowels again and again and again. Cows that were undoubtedly related to, maybe even knew, our dinner that night. Cows that became the most memorable event of the day.

Wary cud-chewer, preparing to flee.

NEWS - Port Townsend reached

2009-10-03T17:30:00.000-07:00

They reached Port Townsend, WA on Friday, trail map updated.

[Posted by Alan and Rachelle.]

NEWS - Bow reached....

2009-09-27T16:38:00.000-07:00

Bow reached on Sat. Sept. 26, trail map updated - next stop Port Towsand.

1,063 Miles hiked out of 1,290 total - 82% done!!!

[Posted by Alan Frazier]

Interesting Insects #2

2009-09-25T14:53:00.000-07:00

Bees, Wasps, Bee-Mimics

Here you find the second in a series of Interesting Insect encounters on the PNT. Throughout this trip we've frequently encountered bees, wasps and bee mimics. Here are some images of these distinctive critters.

Bees are typically non-malicious, colorful, industrious things. They look especially pretty against a flowery backdrop.

Wasps seem so much more, well, evil than bees. There's a perception of bees working together in social units, collecting nectar to make sweet, sweet honey, all the while pollinating beautiful flowers. Wasps are leaner, meaner, and frankly, more vicious. Sure, they play an invaluable role in the ecosystem – managing pest insects for one – but as predators and parasites, not pollinators. We watched this group of wasps swirling and hovering over something deep in the grasses.

Upon closer (but not too close) inspection we realized they were voraciously fighting over the remains of a moth. No friendly working community here. You can see in this slightly blurry image that the wasp in the upper left has absconded with what appears to be the moth's head. The other two insects are ripping apart what remains of their dinner. Violent, yes. Also very very neat to see their competitive interactions.

And then there are the totally different, completely cool bee mimics. I know virtually nothing about these insects, but we really enjoyed watching them throughout the summer. They are small, curious, non-malicious. These flies employ mimicry to avoid predation, and at first their bee-like coloration can be a bit alarming. Once you realize their hovering, helicopter-like flight patterns are non-threatening they become quite charming. It took us weeks and weeks to finally get a picture of one – they are fast little critters on the wing.

Stay tuned for the next installment of our interesting insect encounters along the PNT!

Two Month Anniversary

2009-09-25T14:42:00.000-07:00

Our PNT journey began on July 13th in Glacier National Park. We hiked seven miles in the rain, to a designated campsite at Bowman Lake. Despite a rolling trail, in seven miles we experienced no net change in elevation. Our packs were heavy and wet, and my legs and back and neck ached after the short day on the trail. After a hasty meal in the chilly weather we dove into our sleeping bags before dark. I worried wild animals might visit our campsite in the night. In the morning we shared the communal cooking area with eight other hikers as we shivered in the damp morning air. Soon we packed up our gear and set off on the long climb to Brown Pass and our next designated campsite.

What a difference two months can make.

On September 13th, two states and over 700 miles later, we found ourselves in the Pasayten Wilderness of Washington State. On our two-month anniversary on the trail we hiked fifteen miles under gorgeous sunny skies. In that distance we climbed over 3000 feet in elevation to stunning Cathedral Pass. We dropped a short way down into a campsite of our choosing above upper Cathedral Lake in time to make a delicious meal before watching the dazzling sunset over distant Mount Baker. Later, snuggled in our sleeping bags, we lay out on wide, flat rocks and watched stars pop into view until they filled the dome of the night sky. Shooting stars cascaded overhead. Despite the elevation and the lateness of the season a warm breeze wafted across the exposed rocks and over our cheeks. My feet still ached, now the familiar throb of being freed from a long day of pounding the trail in hiking boots. I wondered, hopefully, if we'd awaken with any animal visitors nearby. Indeed, the next day we watched a group of six mountain goats, including a nanny and her kid grazing up the slope. Our only other company was a couple of climbers who spent the afternoon ascending one of the many rock spurs above the lake. The stunning views, the exposed openness of the alpine terrain, and the freedom from set schedules encouraged us to stay an extra day – a gentle start to month number three.

Looking west from Cathedral Pass, Pasayten Wilderness, Washington. (Our white tent is barely visible on the left side in front of the dark treeline).

Six mountain goats, including a nanny and her kid (seen in the lower left), visited us at Cathedral Pass.

Experiencing Wilderness

2009-09-22T13:10:00.001-07:00

Beware your expectations. Having just emerged from the Pasayten Wilderness Area in North Central Washington State – the most remote section of the entire PNT - we were reminded that expectations can be dangerous.

The Pasayten lies miles beyond exurbia, is buffered by National Forests, and home to the most diverse collection of charismatic mega-fauna we'll encounter - from mountain lions and goats, to elk and moose, ptarmigan, harriers, marmots, and more. We expected long days, scenic vistas, and complete separation from the outside world. What we got was miles and miles of quality trails, 360-degree panoramas, jagged snow-capped peaks, pristine alpine lakes, and the true awareness that if anything were to happen help was days, not hours, away.

What we lacked was solitude. We saw and interacted with more people in two weeks of the Pasayten than in the previous two months combined.

What did we learn? When too many people search for solitude in breathtaking, remote landscapes, often no one achieves their goal.

View from atop Devil's Dome, Pasayten Wilderness

NEWS - Concrete reached 9/20/2009

2009-09-21T14:50:00.000-07:00

They reached Concrete yesterday, progress trail map is updated.

They were unable to hike from Ross Lake Resort due to passes closed from rockslide and forest fires on both sides of trail. They were able to get a ride from Ross Lake Resort to Concrete. They should have new blogs posted soon.

[posted by Alan and Rachelle Frazier]

What is This? #6

2009-09-18T09:49:00.000-07:00

An occasional series where we share for your amusement unique, curious, and/or fascinating things that we have encountered!

Okay, so this installment is more about engaging your creative imagination than asking a serious “What is this?” question. You know how it's fun to look at clouds and find images and shapes in them? Well, when you've been on the trail as long as we have, you find yourself imagining images out of all sorts of things. Callae thought she saw something very specific in this compilation of rock, soil and plants. What do you see?

This image was taken on 24 August 2009 in the Colville National Forest during a much-needed break along the side of the forest service road we'd been hiking for miles and miles and miles.

Callae's description of this image will be included in the next What is This post.
We encourage you to submit your thoughts using the Comments link below.

Answer to What is This #5 – (ColvilleNatForest) original post date: 09-14-2009

We believe these fence-like structures must be cattle guards, set in place to discourage cows from completely tromping through these areas. Perhaps the hillside along the roadway is being revegetated. The other guard was placed over a stream to help prevent total destruction of that waterway. Given the numerous contaminated water sources we passed, we're not sure why these particular areas were under protection. An experiment, perhaps?

Interesting Insects #1

2009-09-16T09:41:00.000-07:00

Beautiful Butterflies

When you first embark on a long hike your senses are attuned to big-picture images and thoughts. The scenery. The weather. The aches and pains. The giant mountain ahead of you. Survival. Perhaps there are big exciting animals to distract you. Often there are not. As time passes and the initial awe of the hike wanes you start to notice smaller aspects of the experience. One of the things we have become more attuned to as this journey progresses is the insects among us. So here you find the first in a series of Interesting Insect encounters on the PNT.

Butterflies are bright, beautiful and impossible to ignore when they flit across your path or take a moment to land on you or your pack to suck away the salt accumulating there. Earlier in the season we had several close encounters with a variety of lovely amber butterflies. Here they are!

This Hydaspe Fritillary kept us company in Glacier National Park along a stream near the south end of Waterton Lake. It was a much nicer companion than the mosquitoes who had been nibbling on my hands, or the flies you can see perched on my thumb.

One of my favorite things about butterflies is how different they appear when their wings are closed. Fritillaries like this one have giant silvery spots that really stand out against its dark hind-wings.

This small Northern Checkerspot sucked salt from my finger while overlooking Red Meadow Lake in Western Montana.

You can see how the Checkerspots got their name when you see the striking contrast on the underside of the hind wings.

This Satyr Comma butter is ideally suited for its life in the trees as it is camouflaged against gray bark. The white comma on its hind wing helps give away its name.

And then the comma opens its drab wings and voila, a stunning shock of amber and gold to dazzle the senses. Plus, I just love the abstract, uneven lines of this butterfly's outline.

Stay tuned for the next installment of our interesting insect encounters along the PNT!

Trail sketches

2009-09-14T09:51:00.000-07:00

As you know, every ten days or so Dale and I arrive in a small town somewhere along the PNT. Along with the promise of a hot meal we don't have to cook in a tiny pot, arriving in town means picking up a food box at the post office. It's become one of the highlights of our town visits. My parents have been diligently sending us our boxes for weeks now and we've come to eagerly anticipate what new, sweet treasure they've included above and beyond the food we packed months ago. Sometimes it's a special candy bar, or a sweet note, or just-in-case throat lozenges. And each box includes an artistic rendering of our journey as documented through my father's pen and ink sketches. We wanted to share with you some of his drawings, as they've been a big hit with us and some of the others who have been around when we open our food boxes.

What is This? #5

2009-09-14T09:44:00.000-07:00

An occasional series where we share for your amusement unique, curious, and/or fascinating things that we have encountered!

We came across these mysterious man-made structures along a Forest Service road in the Colville National Forest outside of Northport, WA. These images were taken on 24 August 2009.

These logs are connected together and stretch approximately 15 feet up the slope and perhaps 75 feet down the road.

Here is another example, found slightly off the road along a side trail.

The answer will be included in the next What is This post.
We encourage you to submit your thoughts using the Comments link below.

Answer to What is This #4 – (SwanLake) Posted 9-2-2009:
This freaky little critter is a predatory Ant Lion! You've likely seen their dimpled burrows in sandy soil. When ants fall into the ant lion's funnel-like burrow they cannot clamber out and quickly fall prey to the larger insect's massive pincers. I've seen ant lion burrows for years, but never thought to feed them (they move fast when you drop an ant into their trap!) or dig one up until we met the Pfaff family at Swan Lake. Thanks to Danny, Robbie, Katy and Amy for teaching us about these cool insects!

Bear-ish Encounters

2009-09-14T09:34:00.000-07:00

While I began this journey haunted by dreams of bears, actual sightings of the charismatic animals have been practically non-existent since our first encounter in Montana. Sightings of other bear-like things however have been plentiful. So in lieu of actual bears, here are a few images of bear-named or bear-related things. Oh, and consequentially, my bear dreams have been replaced by dreams populated by humans. When in town, dream of animals. When in the wild, dream of people. Interesting juxtaposition. As are some of the following images.

Beargrass

Beargrass is a plant as charismatic as the animals they are named for. In mid-July tall, spikey white blooms stood higher than my head on many of the slopes in Glacier National Park. Dale and I acted as beargrass pollinators every time we brushed against their multi-flowered stalks. Stunning.

By late August the beargrass plants had gone to seed (seen here on a slope in Idaho's Selkirk mountains). Bears use their giant paws to dig up the plant's roots for nourishment.

Bearblood

Early in our hike we noticed this unusual red spattering across the leaves of many mountain maples. We're told its common name is bear blood, though we are not sure if its actually a rust or a fungus. Nor do we know why its called “bear” blood, and not “deer” or “elk” blood. It does stand out among the otherwise green forest understory, and provides a rather lovely contrast.

Bearberry

This is one of my favorite plants. I know it as kinnikinnick, but it is also commonly referred to as bearberry. Even its scientific name, Arctostaphylos uva-ursi refers to its connection with bears. In the spring this low-growing ground cover has rather diminutive, but lovely bell-shaped flowers. It truly comes to life in the fall when its bright red berries herald the coming winter. Bears gorge on these fruits and their scat is littered with its hard seeds. (I can't recall if the berries are edible for humans, though my recollection of trying them is a memory of puckering my cheeks against their tartness.)

Bear Scat

We have certainly seen a lot of bear scat along our journey, even if the animals themselves are scarce. We were told the huckleberry crop in Montana and Idaho was especially good this year, which may explain the lack of bears in our general vicinity. Or maybe it was just the smell of our shoes that kept them away. This scat has bearberry seeds in it.

Bear Hang

When there are bears around, or the potential of bears around, it's a good idea to hang your food high out of a paw's reach.

Bear Butt

Six weeks after our first bear sighting in Montana we finally got a glimpse of a small black bear crossing a forest service road in the Colville National Forest, Washington. A very exciting, if brief rear-end encounter!

Bare Butt

Okay, I couldn't resist this play on words. There is nothing quite like setting your bare butt on a throne toilet with a view like this one...bears or no.

NEWS UPDATE - Loomis Reached.

2009-09-08T16:14:00.000-07:00

They called on pay phone, arrived today (9/8) in Loomis WA, next stop Ross Lake Resort. They have hiked 673 miles out of 1293, 52% completed.

No email access in Loomis so their blogs will be snail-mailed to us and we will post them after we get them in the mail and vet them.

The next 140 mile stint to Ross Lake Resort is 10-14 days hike thru rugged wilderness with no roads, towns or much of anything else except mountains and wildlife.

Above is a rough idea of the trail they will be taking, click on the image for larger view.

Posted by Alan and Rachelle Frazier]

NEWS UPDATE - Wauconda reached 9/3

2009-09-03T12:10:00.000-07:00

Check updated Trail Map for progress.

Next mail drop pickup Loomis around 9/10.
They are planning to break for a couple
of days in Oroville on the way.

Blogs received from them and will be posted in the next few days, including a new 'What Is This"!!

[Posted by Alan/Rachelle Frazier]

What is This #4?

2009-09-02T18:23:00.000-07:00

An occasional series where we share for your amusement unique, curious, and/or fascinating things that we have encountered!

The following picture was taken on 02 September 2009 at Swan Lake in North-Central Washington State.

This frightening little creature is only about one centimeter long, has enormous pincers and looks like something out of a B-Grade science fiction movie. If we tell you where we found it, we're afraid that will give it away.

The answer will be included in the next What is This post.
We encourage you to submit your thoughts using the Comments link below.

Answer to What is This #3 (posted 08-23-2009):
We found this rather large, dog-like scat (coyote, or maybe wolf?) in the middle of the trail and picked out these unusual items from it. #3, the whitish item is a tooth – likely a molar of a cervid (elk, deer, moose), though we don't know for sure what kind. The bluish fingernail shaped things we can only guess at. They might be dew-claws from the same animal as the tooth. (Dew-claws are those extra toes high on the back of an animal's leg – your dogs have them, though they may have been removed as puppies). They might be the tips of hoofs from a young deer fawn or elk calf.

Things that bug us...

2009-09-02T18:06:00.000-07:00

After living in the field for a while you realize that certain things really bug you. They may only happen occasionally, but when they do you are instantly annoyed. Here are just a few of those things that we thought you might find amusing:

Mosquitoes. Now it's not what you think – mosquitoes are a regular part of summer camping. You get used to them, some places are worse than others, and you use a good repellent when necessary. But in the backcountry they rarely see humans and tend to be less wary than they should be. So you can often swat them before they have a chance to get their blood meal. Additionally, you can frequently snatch them right out of the air before they even have a chance to land. You squeeze you hand into a tight fist so that the little bloodsucker will be crushed between your powerful fingers demonstrating how superior you are to the miniscule insect you have chosen to obliterate. Except that when you open your hand to assess the carnage, the mosquito, having found some tiny refuge among your digits, simply flies away – unscathed. Now that is annoying.

Places that are “Lost”. Lakes, rivers, creeks, mountains, etc. By definition, if something is “lost”, you don't know where it is. So how can it appear on a map? If you needed to find “Lost Lake” you could simply look on a map (between Buster and Strawberry Mountains in the Okanogan National Forest of eastern Washington State), and if that is the case, is it really lost? (You could actually just follow the trail up from Strawberry Mountain, you can't miss it.) It makes me wonder if there is a map out there for my keys... maybe the problem isn't that I lose my keys, but that I lost the map to them...

In general, breezes are nice. And on a hot summer day, cool breezes are almost universally welcomed. But there are times when you'd prefer to forgo them. Like when you are sitting on a US Forest Service vault toilet. Now, I'm not talking about the old pit toilets that you'd do anything to avoid - most of the modern ones are fairly clean, have toilet paper, and don't smell too bad (not to mention you don't have to dig your own hole). But you can imagine what must be down in that vault. So when you are sitting there, enjoying the fact that you don't have to squat over a small hole in the ground, and a cool breath of air rushes past your backside on its way toward your nostrils... an open air cathole in the woods starts to sound pretty nice.

NEWS UPDATE... Monday 8/31

2009-08-31T14:44:00.000-07:00

For those of you who are following the hike.

Just to let you know that based on latest contact they seem to be running about 4+ days behind schedule. Looks like the next stop (Wauconda on the map) won't be till the middle of this week.

We got a scratchy 3 minute cell call (!!!) 4 days out from Northport (from the top of Copper Butte) and Dale requested a priority mail drop of the old water filter that they shipped back because it was clogging. The new water filter is also clogging up and they wanted the old one back. Call broke up and discontinued 3 minutes in.

[Posted by Alan and Rachelle Frazier]

So you say you want a revolution...

2009-08-23T08:30:00.000-07:00

More thoughts from slightly above sea level...

I've been taught, and learned from personal experience, that revolutionary change happens only rarely and under extraordinary circumstances while most change occurs incrementally.

Amidst a discussion of caribou reintroduction, the exaggerated tales locals tell of grizzly encounters, and the forest management practices of the US Forest Service in Idaho, Brian Johnson reminded me of this truism. But it didn't sit well with me and I pondered its relevance to human societies. It finally struck me that the sophistication of human societies leads to a subtle shift in the rule – it is not the existence of extraordinary circumstances that matters in fomenting revolution but instead the perception of extraordinary circumstances.

The implications of this idea are twofold. For starters, if society is unaware of the need for revolution, it will not occur. And perhaps more powerfully, if society perceives the need for dramatic change despite the lack of any such need in reality, revolution can be instigated by those controlling the message. This second implication can lead to change that benefits, or harms, the very society that implements it.

I appreciate your skepticism. Naturally the media (the fourth estate) investigates anything that we, the society they cover, needs to be aware of and reports back to us when revolution is warranted. Or do they? Many of North America's raptor populations (including the bald eagle) were in serious decline because of bio-accumulation of the chemical DDT as it moved up the food chain. Dramatic change was warranted. An outright ban on the use of DDT was indicated but it wasn't until the publication of Rachel Carson's book, Silent Spring that action was taken. Society's ignorance led to inaction.

Remember when Greenpeace used to do more than sell calendars, solicit donations, and lobby Congress? The Rainbow Warrior brought whaling issues to the fore of society's consciousness by going to sea and putting itself in harm's way between whalers and their prey. Many referred to those idealistic mariners as eco-terrorists, or dare I say, environmentalists. But their extreme tactics put the over-harvest of whales on the front page. School children were alarmed and “Save the Whales” echoed throughout society effectively changing global monitoring of marine mammal populations.

In addition to outright ignorance of the need for revolutionary change, the suggestion of doubt regarding a particular issue can stymie change, and prevent revolution. For decades the tobacco industry in the US denied a link between smoking and lung cancer despite their own data to the contrary. They stalled regulation by sowing doubt about the need for change. And some of you undoubtedly support the use of genetic techniques to improve the quality and/or nutrition of the food we eat. These genetically-modified-organisms (GMOs) have the potential to extend shelf lives, increase vitamin content, and increase yields making our farmland more productive. For proponents of GMOs the upside seems limitless. Unregulated GMO farming would be revolutionary change indeed. But opponents of GMOs have sown doubt about the unforeseen consequences of the release of new genotypes into the environment reducing the impact of this new technology dramatically.

In each of the examples above, society's perception of DDT, whaling, tobacco and GMOs, rather than the situation itself, dictated the pace of change.

The second implication of how perception leads to revolutionary or incremental change is easily seen in political advertising. For years the National Rifle Association (NRA) has taken a stand in major campaigns implying that the opposition candidate fails to support the Second Amendment to the Constitution. They have suggested that a vote for the opposition will lead to the confiscation of guns by the government – if you plan to vote for the opposition you might as well surrender your firearms to the authorities right now. Despite the obvious falsehood of this view, it creates a perception of revolutionary change.

An example with broader implications is the war in Iraq. Regardless of your support for our troops and/or the war, it has been shown that our own government misled us about the presence of weapons of mass destruction and the degree of threat that Saddam Hussein posed. By manipulating society's perception of the situation, revolutionary change occurred when we invaded Iraq. The result was dramatic loss of life, international credibility, and treasure. Despite the continued call of other governments for incremental change, revolution ruled the day.

Clearly change in human societies in directed more by what occurs in our brains than what occurs around us. And revolutionary change is the product of a perceived need, whether it exists or not. So you want to start a revolution? Spend just as much time documenting the need for change as communicating the message. You may find that spreading the word counts for much more than the veracity of your claims.

Dale contemplating the role of revolution in the Whitefish Range, MT

A real-world case study...
Ask yourself about global climate change – is there a need for revolutionary change? Were we simply unaware of this need until recently? Are doubts being sown about the need for change? Are we being manipulated into believing a crisis is imminent when incremental change is all that is necessary? From what information have you formed your opinions? Might they need to be re-evaluated?

Water works wonders

2009-08-23T08:12:00.000-07:00

I believe that water is an incredible substance. I've felt this way for years. Water Works Wonders (trademarked) sums up my feelings more concisely and accurately than anything I've come up with. It took a recreational boating industry group (or probably their marketing department) to sum things up so succinctly. Contrary to my more innocent beliefs, their motivation is to sell more Bayliners (also trademarked). I'll borrow the phrase anyway.

Water brews our coffee, brews our beer, brews our cares away in the hot tub. Water greens our lawns, cleans our cars, lubricates our slip-n-slides. The sound of the ocean surf takes us away, while the sound of a cascading stream muffles the noises of progress all around us bringing us back into ourselves. And the sight of vast lakes and oceans inspires us to ponder larger ideas and consider broader goals.

Webb Mountain overlooking the Lake Koocanusa Bridge (note the white Forest Service Fire Lookout atop the mountain).

When you are hiking up Webb Mountain in western Montana with a full pack on your back in 90-degree heat the presence or absence of water takes on a whole new meaning. We started up our three-and-a-half mile, 3,600 vertical foot climb with only four liters of water – all that we had containers for. The mountain didn't care. We started sweating in the first few hundred feet. We took regular breaks. We felt the heat reflecting off the barkless standing dead trees, remnants from a previous fire. Felt the heat reflecting off the bare rock outcrops teasing us with views of Lake Koocanusa below.

View from ~2 miles up Webb Mountain looking down on Lake Koocanusa.

Our thoughts turned to water shortly after we began the climb. How much water would we need on the way up the mountain? How many breaks should we take? We exhaled moisture with each breath. Each drop of sweat begged for replacement. A break would allow us to cool down, to control our breathing, to save that precious fluid. Yet each break also meant opening a water bottle, making a conscious effort to only sip, not gulp the bottle down as our bodies requested.

What do you do when you're sitting next to your hiking partner? Do you carefully monitor each person's intake? Do you offer to share knowing you'd rather hoard it for yourself? What if your partner is also your wife? Do you have some moral obligation to give her an equal amount of water (or more)? Who would know? Did I really just think that? Am I thinking clearly? Am I already dehydrated? Should I not have caught those drips of salty sweat falling from my nose? Did they contribute to my delirium? Am I still sweating? Why is she staring at me? How long have I been sitting here holding my bottle out for her but not actually letting it go? Is this what true thirst is really like? Because right now I'd do almost anything for more water. I'd carry extra weight. I'd pay major league baseball stadium prices for a bottle of water. I'd sit through Dumb and Dumber - no, strike that. I'd sit through Dumb and DumberER on loop for a glass of ice water. How far are we from the top?

But wait. The top doesn't matter. Once we summit Webb Mountain we'll still have 2.5 miles before we reach a water source. How much water do two adults carrying full packs need for a 2.5 mile hike in 90-degree heat? One liter? Two? Four? Are we already behind? Is it better to be mostly dehydrated the whole time or should we hydrate our bodies now knowing we'll be even more dehydrated later? Do I dare unscrew the top of my bottle? Will I really only sip...

There isn't really any drama here. You know how it turns out. We both made it to water or you wouldn't be reading this right now. But we both learned a lot about our own physical limits that day. We experienced a single day without adequate water and developed a new appreciation for it.

Callae happily filtering water in an old clearcut atop Thirsty Mountain (just West of Webb).

I encourage you to fully appreciate the wonderful liquid that is water the next time you go to the tap to brew your morning coffee, or release that chilled stream of refreshment from the alcove in the door of your refrigerator, or step into a hot shower after a long day.

Water really does work wonders.

What is This #3?

2009-08-23T06:53:00.000-07:00

An occasional series where we share for your amusement unique, curious, and/or fascinating things that we have encountered!

The following pictures were taken on 24 July 2009 in on the Blue Sky Creek Trail in the Whitefish Divide Range of Montana.

No, we're not trying to insult your intelligence by asking you to tell us this is animal scat. This image is for reference only (though you might guess what kind of animal its from). We want to know what things we found in the scat. One we're sure of, the others we're not.

We picked out three interesting things from this animal poo. #1 & #2 are the same type of thing. They are about 1.5-2 inches long, and firm when poked. #3 is about the same length, also hard to the touch.

Another perspective on the previous three items.

The answer will be included in the next What is This post. We encourage you to submit your thoughts using the Comments link below.

Answer to What is This #2 (posted 08-17-2009):
This surprising man-made object on the shore of an otherwise pristine lake in Glacier National Park is a steam injector for the purpose of extracting oil from below the soil surface. It dates back to pre-national park days around 1905. It remains stuck in the mud where small fishes play in its shadows and curious visitors like us gawk at it.

It's not all work...

2009-08-22T16:46:00.000-07:00

Taking a break from the trail in Northport, WA.

Swimming with a pair of Washingtonians, a trio of Germans, and a Norwegian in Deep Lake outside Northport, WA (one Washingtonian not pictured).

From left: Dale - hiker; Arne, Holger and Lisa (not pictured) Brandt - German Federal Police; Ole-Henrik Holmsen - lady killer; Bertha Matteson - the Boss; Jerry Matteson - the Mayor.

The gang of new and old friends back at home preparing for an evening of soccer.
Ole, Holger, Arne, Jerry, Bertha, Callae, Lisa, & Dale.

Heading west from Northport we may be without an internet connection for 2-3 weeks. We have lots more stories and pictures to share as soon as we get back online... stay tuned!

Crossing the Kootenai

2009-08-22T14:20:00.000-07:00

The Kootenai river flows south from Canada and spreads into Montana's Lake Koocanusa before spilling under the Libby Dam, once more a river. Its path then winds west through northern Montana before looping a sinuous path through the panhandle of Idaho where it crosses back into Canada just feet away from the border crossing at Porthill.

Over the course of our journey, we crossed the Kootenai twice. The first time we met its waters outside Rexford, MT. There on a hot, late July morning we walked a paved road along steep shale and limestone cliffs in order to reach the nearly ½ mile long, Koocanusa bridge. Cars zoomed by and osprey soared overhead bringing food to their nearly-fledged young.

Osprey above nest overlooking Lake Koocanusa.

The Koocanusa bridge is not only the tallest, longest bridge in Montana, it also holds the honor of being named 1972's most beautiful long span bridge. It certainly felt like a long crossing over the steely expanse, especially as the metal around us popped and creaked under the rising heat of day. And the grilled walkway underfoot made us a bit dizzy as we looked down into the blue waters passing by 100 feet below.

Looking south to the longest bridge in Montana.

Beginning the long walk to the west side.

Early morning looking east along the Koocanusa bridge.

Two weeks, some 130 miles and another state later we once again met the Kootenai river. Again, we approached it by foot on pavement as we trudged down Hwy 95 toward the promise that was Porthill. This time the Kootenai's waters wove through the bottomland of the river valley, brilliant blue in contrast to the bordering golden agricultural fields. The hills surrounding its waters were thick with cedar, hemlock and white pine. We contoured the river's curves as we walked north on Idaho 1 toward Porthill.

During our time with the river at Porthill we admired the herons that stood in the shadows of its banks and the eagles that searched for fish in its depths. On a hot, end-of-summer-day we helped launch a Huck Finn-like raft into the Kootenai's gentle current and later dove into the river's chilly, refreshing embrace. And on the day of our departure from Porthill, we enlisted the help of a young, willing local Porthillian to help ferry us and our heavy packs to the opposite banks.

Enjoying the river on a hot August day.

As we've suggested in an earlier post, the only way to cross the Kootenai by foot is at Copeland, 12 miles south of Porthill. The canyon we planned to hike up lay only a few miles south of Porthill – on the opposite side of the river. Thanks to Brandon we began the next leg of our journey on the opposite bank of the Kootenai, and avoided the long round-about trip via Copeland.

A few words about Brandon. He is a slight, handsome young man, willing to step in and help out complete strangers at the drop of a hat. When Dale told him of our plight, and asked for his help, Brandon smiled broadly and said, “Sure, I can do that.”

So on a suddenly cool, suspiciously dark and cloudy morning we borrowed the Tompke's inflatable rowboat and Brandon stepped in to take us one at a time (with our packs) across the expanse of the river. He maneuvered the boat like a pro. A shore-side observer would never have known it was Brandon's first time in a rowboat. Very impressive. We're very grateful for the ride, and the 20-ish miles he saved us in backtracking. Thank you Brandon!

Brandon rowing Callae across the river.

With our boat captain.

We waved farewell to Porthill, the border crossing and Brandon and walked the banks of the Kootenai until we met our trailhead at Long Canyon Creek. A bald eagle surveyed us from the opposite bank while Canada geese winged by overhead. Our final view of the Kootenai's quiet waters came from near the top of the ridgeline above the creek when we looked back through a break in the thick forest of cedar. Sunlight shone down through storm clouds to illuminate golden fields and blue sparkle of water. (Sorry, no image on account of the rain). We wouldn't see a body of water as extensive until Priest Lake – 27 miles distant. We also wouldn't see the sun for two and a half days, deep in the valley of Long Canyon and a three day rain that swept the area. But more on that another time.

Porthill border crossing

A bald eagle - one of the many birds seen along the Kootenai river.

Canada geese flying along the Kootenai river valley.

NEWS UPDATE: AUGUST 21, 2009

2009-08-21T10:13:00.000-07:00

Callae and Dale reached Northport yesterday!! Trail map is updated to reflect current progress. 463 miles, about 36% of trail completed, 830 miles to go.

[posted by Alan Frazier]

What is This #2?

2009-08-17T08:54:00.000-07:00

An occasional series where we share for your amusement unique, curious, and/or fascinating things that we have encountered!

The following pictures were taken on 20 July 2009 at the Kintla Lake Car campground in Glacier National Park, Montana.

The answer will be included in the next What is This post. We encourage you to submit your thoughts using the Comments link below.

Answer to What is This #1 (posted 08-16-2009):

Dale found these jelly-like egg sacs while wading around in the shallows of Bear Lake. They are either frog or salamander egg masses. They are like something from an alien planet! We could use the expertise of a good herpetologist to identify them further.

What's for Dinner?

2009-08-16T12:06:00.000-07:00

It seems like everyone we meet inevitably asks what we're eating on the trail. Well, we're actually eating pretty darn well. Dale and I really enjoy food and since this trek is more about the experience than simply getting from point A to point B in a short time, we decided early in the planning process that food would be an important part of our hike. Here's an overview of our food preparation process and description of a few of our meals in the field.

There are several serious considerations when planning food for a long hike. The first is to have enough calories to sustain the intensity of the activity. The second is weight. And the third consideration for us is to have interesting and tasty meals to boot. We're doing pretty well in all three areas, and here's how:

Thanks to our friends Morgan and Sarah Pett we were able to dehydrate a portion of our food while still in Iowa. We experimented with different fruits, veggies, and meats using their dehydrator. Now we are now enjoying light-weight apples, pineapple, kiwi, black olives, bok-choy, mushrooms, peppers, canned salmon, beef jerky and even salsa and tomato paste. (Salsa and tomato paste dry into a fruit leather and provide excellent flavor.) Thanks Morgan and Sarah!

Thanks also to Ivan Katz who lent us his vacuum food sealer so some of the food we made in May would stay fresher until Fall.

While dehydrating worked for many food items, it has some major drawbacks. The primary one is time. Dehydrating three months of food eight trays at a time would have taken much longer than we had. There is also a weight issue – freeze-dried foods are significantly lighter than dehydrated. Additionally, freeze-drying retains more vitamins and nutrients than dehydrating, which is basically slow-cooking at low temperatures. So we looked into freeze-dried foods to supplement. You may be familiar with the pre-made, pre-packaged, freeze-dried meals from brands like Mountain House, but for a three month venture they are prohibitively expensive and create copious amounts of wasteful packaging. But then we discovered a solution – freeze-dried food staples in #10 cans (large coffee can size) that we could break up into ziploc bags and create our own meals. We found two companies online that offer a wide variety of freeze-dried foods at cheaper prices than we could dehydrate them – everything from powdered eggs, to butter, to cheese and berries and veggies. After some taste-testing we picked out some of our favorites and went wild. Not too wild, mind you, just enough to keep our palates engaged and our bodies filled with healthy, nutritious fare!

Freeze dried foods (and more) from Honeyville Grains

Freeze dried foods (and more) from Emergency Essentials

We rounded out our food staples from local grocery stores, stocking up on pasta, mac & cheese, rice, oatmeal, almonds, peanuts, cranberries, raisins, M&Ms, etc. The result is that we have with us a variety of dehydrated and freeze-dried fruits, vegetables, meats and cheeses, plus grains, and snacks in the form of different homemade trail mixes, nuts and Odwalla and Clif bars for quick energy. We also have a spice bag that adds variety and pizazz.

While in Conifer we took over two rooms in my parent's house during two-days of food preparation, separation and repacking for distribution into boxes for mailing. We measured out portions of grains, veggies and fruits, etc. into plastic bags to save space and weight. We made a lot of trail mix. When we looked up from the work we were surrounded by boxes and cans and bags of food. Have you ever thought about how much food you go through in just a month? How about three months? It's a lot of food (keeping in mind we do like to eat well and anticipated needing more calories than normal).

When done, we had ten days of food in our packs for the first leg of the trail in Glacier, a box to leave at the Polebridge Mercantile before getting dropped off to start the trip, and ten others to be sent to post offices (and other helpful businesses) along the route. Each box weighs 20-25 pounds and includes (we hope) enough food to last between 8-11 days. The length of each leg is dependent on the distance between accessible post offices/mail drops along the PNT route and our anticipated rate of travel.

So given all of our preparation, what is actually happening in the field?

We are using approximately three gallons of water per day for drinking, cooking (and rehydrating) and tooth-brushing.

· We are using a little over a quart of white gas every 10 days for the stove – for cooking meals and making hot drinks.

· We are just about finishing our food stocks by the time we reach the next mail drop.

· And we are generally enjoying the food, though after four weeks on the trail we must admit we are getting a teeny bit weary of the same exact dried/freeze-dried options each week. We do manage to mix things up in different and unique ways, however, and that is a least keeping things interesting. Besides, everything tastes pretty darn good when you've hiked a long, hard day.

Here are just a few examples of what we are eating for breakfast and dinner (we tend to snack on energy bars, trail mix, or nuts while hiking) :

· Hot cocoa, or a fruit-smoothie mix for a sweet, sugary treat along with the occasional instant pudding dessert.

· Oatmeal or 6-grain cereal mix with sugar, berries and nuts.

· Eggs dishes with salmon, cheese, spinach, salsa.

· Tomato-based pasta and rice dishes.

· Macaroni and Cheese with broccoli or asparagus, carrots, celery, black olives, and sometimes salmon.

· Rice or Pasta Curry with homemade tortillas

Anny Tessin taught us about and provided a box of powdered coconut milk for the hike!

· Salsa rice with cheese and black beans (super-light, easy to dehydrate and packed with protein).

· And, as an extra-special treat: fresh sprouts! Yes, you can make sprouts while hiking in the woods. They provide a wonderful fresh crunch to our meals. Now we just need to have enough patience to let them green-up a bit in the sun.

While we enjoy cooking our own creations, we miss things like unlimited cheese and fresh meat. We have also begun to crave pastries, chocolate cake and ice cream. So we really, really appreciate the times we hike into town and get town-food, or in the rare and lucky case – a homemade meal from one of the amazing folks we have been meeting on the trail.

Send us any additional food questions and we'll either email you (when we find WiFi) or post additional blogs.

A typical(?) day on the trail...

2009-08-16T11:59:00.000-07:00

8 August 2009

We're sure you regularly find yourself lying awake in bed at night pondering what life is like on the trail. And so in the name of restful slumber we provide for you, “A typical day on the PNT”.

Saturday August 8th began for us high on Bussard Mountain in the panhandle of Idaho. The night before we had camped just off the trail near the first water we had seen in miles. After another 3000+ foot elevation gain on Friday we were headed down the west side of the mountain and into the Kootenai river valley where we would head north to the burg of Porthill on the Canadian border.

The route seemed simple enough, follow the trail down 11 miles to US 95, go a mile and a half southwest to Idaho 1, then north to Porthill (another 12 miles) where we had a food box waiting for us. But the route wasn't the problem. By the time you reach US 95, you have left the Kaniksu National Forest and are surrounded by private lands meaning camping is a problem. Ideally we would stop in Copeland (one mile up Idaho 1) where our food box would be waiting, a hot meal from a local eatery would greet us, and a soft spot to pitch our tent awaited. After all, Copeland is the location of the only bridge across the river between Canada and Bonner's Ferry (15 miles south). Unfortunately, while Copeland appears as a name on the map, it fails to possess any businesses to hold our box or feed us. Porthill, on the other hand, holds nothing but promise. Because, while we know that Copeland is devoid of assistance, Porthill is a blank slate. We know that it has a border crossing and a post office (where our box actually awaits) and are pretty confident it has a tavern – but for all we know it could also have a Hilton hotel with an Outback Steakhouse in the parking lot.

So we are headed down the hill with no known place to stay the night and even if there is someplace to camp in Porthill, it is about 25 miles away. And of course we need more than just one night. Our food box sits at the post office which we had hoped to reach the day before. Now we will have to wait until Monday when they reopen. Should we stop short and camp in the forest? Of course not – that wouldn't be any fun. So off we go...

The first part of the walk is great, the temperature isn't too hot, the trail is wide so we can talk with one another, and a whole string of mountain lion tracks are preserved in the soft sediment on the side of the trail. By the time we hit US 95 it is early afternoon and we've already got 11 miles under our belts. But the shoulder of an interstate isn't much fun to walk along and the concrete gives little under your boots. Especially when you look out and realize they have changed the route in order to add more lanes sending you over a mile south of the junction with Highway 1 shown on both of your maps. Ah well, what is another couple of highway miles when you've already put in a dozen? Who cares about the cars whizzing by at 70mph when earlier that morning you had been buzzed by a hummingbird going at least that fast? What does it matter that Porthill seems to be getting farther away, not closer, or that the border isn't open 24/7 (any businesses will probably close when the border does)? Serendipity is with us – we'll find somewhere to sleep.

Serendipity. A concept for early mornings when anything seems possible or late at night when nothing does. But while late night serendipity happens, few believe in it until they've seen it with their own eyes. This was the case early that Saturday evening with the concrete road miles piling up, many still laid out before us, and the promise of Porthill fading. We had resorted to hitchhiking, but got no takers. Perhaps they could smell our trail days upon us. Perhaps Callae was just too intimidating. Perhaps all these Canadian vehicles passing by didn't want to get caught smuggling Americans over the border, eh. Whatever the case, each passing car was like another ground ball out late in a close game. All we needed was a single, something to get a rally going, something to make us believe again, one car. All we needed was one car to slow down, pull to the shoulder... “Where you headed?”

We took a break. Dropped our packs by the side of the two-lane highway. Drank some water. Ate some trail mix. Tried to look pathetic enough to garner sympathy and a ride, but not too pathetic. No takers. Callae's thumb must be broken. Maybe I need to hide in the brush until they pull over. Maybe she needs to show more leg...

Coming to believe our good fortune is running out, we take matters into our own feet, saddle up and continue north again. North along the broad river valley. North through this rural landscape that intermixes horse pastures and row crop agriculture. North to the home of Sam and Robin Ponsness (for sale, only serious inquiries please), where their young son Brody is out watering the garden with Dad. This fine looking gentleman could probably fill us in on the dream that Porthill has become...

“Pardon us, we're looking for some local information...” (And light shone down from the heavens, the birds sang, the grizzly we'd been hoping to see stepped out of the woods and posed while Callae reached for the camera, the soreness in my feet melted away, and all was right in the world [I trust that the Israeli-Palestinian crisis was resolved at the same moment].) Not only had we stumbled upon a true local, someone who had been raised in this very valley, but a federal employee, someone whose only mission is to help (“don't worry, we're with the government...”).

We shook hands, introduced ourselves and explained who we were, where we were headed and why. To which Sam replied, “Are you sure the box is at the post office? Because I can call the postmaster and we can pick it up now. Do you want a beer?” It turns out that Sam is a US Customs agent who works at the Eastport crossing, can count everyone who lives in “town” on two hands and knows them all. No, we didn't pick up the box that night – the postmaster wasn't at home. But yes, things were definitely turning around. And yes, I did enjoy the beer.

Sam and his lovely wife Robin have two adorable children, Brody and Madison, are building a house on some land in the valley, and are indicative of the type of people we keep running across in our travels – friendly, genuine, and ready to help out two strangers without being asked. Sam insisted on giving us a ride into Porthill, including the deluxe tour (don't blink or you'll miss it), and an introduction to our hosts for the night. It turns out that Porthill does not have a Hilton. But it does have two gas stations, one of which allows camping in the pasture behind the pub (under renovation) or down by the river. While driving up the valley we discussed local wildlife, what it is like working for Customs in Idaho and his Dad's wholesale maggot growing operation (live bait). We arrived in Porthill with a place to stay and newfound faith in serendipity.

A sense of humor is an asset when traveling as are rubber gloves. We were greeted by Ken Tompke dryly... “Yeah, you can stay. A week's worth of dishes should cover the first night.” While pondering where the other six nights would be spent we unloaded our packs from the truck and heard about our camping options. No real fee was discussed. But it was clear that the Tompke's could use our help as much as we needed theirs. The pub, it was clear, was under renovation. Tools, lumber, garbage cans, and scaffolding littered the building and the yard. Old electrical wires hung haphazardly from the ceiling. Paint cans lined the floor. All around was a sense of slightly organized chaos. You see, Ken and his wife, Janie, were in the process of restoring his Dad's pub (Roy's) to working order with the help of 5 (of 7) of their children. They don't live in Porthill, of course, that would be silly. They have a home, jobs, and lives back in Lynden, Washington. So a couple of able-bodied souls to lend a hand, share stories with, and provide a refreshing break from the norm were exactly what serendipity ordered.

After setting up the tent we were invited to share taco dinner with the family, but first spent time discussing the finer points of raft-building with Shawn and John down by the river, stocking beer in the gas station store, and learning about our shared connections with western Washington, Indonesia, and seeing a job done right.

We headed to the tent late that night after laughing and talking comfortably with new friends, knowing that we were welcome to stay the weekend, eager to help move the pub toward completion, and take part in the raft's maiden voyage. We had learned about Amy's artistic talents, Annelise's amazing energy, Ashley's confidence (and tacos), Shawn's swimming prowess, John's dry wit, and Braden's absence. Janie's time in Irian Jaya and Ken's history with Porthill and the pub in particular rounded out the evening, while they heard tales of Colorado, wildlife in Glacier, and why two seemingly sane people would embark on this journey.

Naturally, over the next day and a half we would learn more about each other, work together, play together, and develop the connections that guarantee future contact. They'll follow the blog and we'll call when we hit western Washington.

But this post is about one day. A day full of ups and downs, both physically and emotionally, hard work, cold beer, and new friends that feel like old ones. And while not every day of our journey is this memorable, quite a few are, and we haven't even made it into Washington yet.

Now get some sleep, but before you do, ask yourself, “What did you do today?”

The Tompke Family (clockwise from Callae): Callae, Shawn, Ken, Janie, Ashley, Dale, Amy, John, Annelise, and Braden.

Shakedown Hike #2

2009-08-16T11:40:00.000-07:00

From 28-30 June 2009, Alpine Lakes Wilderness, North-Central Cascades, WA (We're going back a ways here and inserting a post from before the PNT hike began.)

We are wiped out, in a good, “We've worked hard,” way. It's the second night of our second shakedown hike and I am writing in the fading light of dusk. Mosquitoes are nibbling on my hands. The clicking of the computer keys is backed by rushing water. Hermit thrushes serenade us through the tall, tall trees.

Dale and I have migrated to Washington state to spend some time with his family before we walk onto the trail in Glacier National Park (14 days away!). We definitely wanted another shakedown hike while in the Northwest as a final gear check and prep. Plus, it's another step toward physical and mental preparation for the PNT. In order to make that happen, we've hiked into the Alpine Lakes Wilderness area in the North Cascades.

I think we'd both agree this shakedown hike has been both a physical and a mental challenge. While the hike into Colorado's Lost Creek Wilderness (see Shakedown Hike #1 ) was fairly flat and unassuming, we both struggled because of the altitude. Here in the lower-elevation Cascades, we're finding it easier to breathe but the terrain is much more challenging. We intentionally chose a location that would better represent some of the more difficult days on the PNT. The trails here are steep and require as much mental awareness as physical ability. There's a lot of stepping up through tree roots, on and over rocks, or cut-away steps on ground that more often than not is spongy or actively flowing with water. Yesterday we hiked in to (or rather, up to) Dorothy Lake.

We climbed 1000 feet up in about 2.25 miles to get to the alpine lake at 3,600 feet above sea level. (To provide some perspective, alpine lakes in Colorado are found above 10,000 feet.) In places the trail had been nearly wiped away by winter avalanche or mudslides and we had to carefully wind around jagged broken trees and upended rocks. We forded a wide, fast-moving stream where the bridge at the south end of Lake Dorothy had been washed away. Today we gasped our way up an additional 600 feet in about a mile of intense switchbacks in order to get over to the smaller, connected Bear and Deer lakes. Dale says it was equivalent of walking the steps to the top of the Space Needle....with 40+ pounds on our backs. No wonder we're wiped out.

I am glad we've hiked both days with packs on. This is giving us a better sense of what it will feel like to get up each morning and break-down camp, re-load the packs and hike again. For the PNT we thought we might prepare a hearty hot meal in the morning. Now we are starting to think we'll be snacking on high-protein/carb foods (bars, trail mix) as we pack up so we can break camp early, hit the trail and get to the next campsite in time for a substantial afternoon meal instead. We'd both rather get to the next night's camp before dark, and with enough time in the afternoon to explore, write, and make a couple hot meals in daylight.

This morning we snacked on Clif bars while breaking down camp. A group of mergansers landed on the glassy waters and swam around peacefully until they discovered us. They broke the calm, glassy water with their hasty flight.

Our tent was damp from condensation, our shoes still damp from the previous day's stream crossing. My shoulders ached under the weight of the pack, but once I got going it became manageable. Once my muscles warmed to the idea of being used again, they carried me up the mountain slowly, but successfully.

Despite the ache in my thighs and rear, it is beautiful here. The water here turns blue-green in direct sunlight thanks to the particulate matter from glacial till. There are numerous inlets and outlets and always the sound of rushing water. We've not seen any charismatic wildlife, save a dozen or so people, but have seen a few mysterious weasel-like scats along the trail and two field mice hopping through our camp at Lake Dorothy. Birds on the other hand have been plentiful, by song if not always by sight. I awoke this morning to a cascade of trills, chirps, and quavers. An olive-sided flycatcher whistled its quick, distinctive three note, “quick three beers” song. The upward trills of Swainson thrushes played harmony against the upward flute of hermit thrushes. Occasionally the single, quivery through-note of the varied thrush cut through the mix. An underlying chorus of chickadees, nuthatches, yellow warblers accompanied the thrushes along with the staccato drum line of flickers. Other birds joined the chorus but I could not distinguish them in my bleary, half-aware early-dawn haze.

The first night here we stayed on the south end of Dorothy Lake. The site, clearly used if not actually sanctioned, lay right at water level We looked out onto a wide island and over dinner, we discovered an osprey nest on top of one of the tall dead trees there. Though the binoculars we watched a single white osprey head poke up above the level of the nest. Just at dusk the mate flew in and perched nearby. In the morning we saw one of the birds bring in a fish and suspect there are fluffy, downy chicks to be fed.

Tonight we are camped on a narrow stretch of land between Bear and Deer Lakes, just on the other side of the ridge from Dorothy Lake . We're almost directly west of where we were last night. At dinner, an osprey flew overhead, no doubt searching for fish in either of these peaceful waters. We also hoped to break out the fishing rod, but saw no sign of fish at either Bear or Deer Lake. Also, the brush is so thick around the lake it's difficult to find a good spot to fish from...especially for those of us who tend to get flies caught and lost in bushes. We're really looking forward to fishing our way throughout the PNT however, and hope to have better luck when we get to Glacier.

Despite the lack of obvious fish, there are plenty of cool aquatic insects to keep us entertained. Dale and I spent some time wading around in the shallow waters of Bear Lake this afternoon. Thousands of whirlygig beetles scattered ahead of our steps. They are about the size of a pumpkin seed and are shiny and twirly and really fun to watch. We also found water skippers, caddisfly larvae and some kind of gooey, gelatinous material (see “What is This?”). These alpine lakes have very little if any vegetation in them either, and no algae which, along with the presence of caddisfly larvae suggest pretty pristine, clean waters. Certainly, the water we are filtering tastes delicious. I love the fresh, non-chlorinated waters of the mountains!

Caddisfly Larvae – the animal's head and front legs are to the right sticking out of the protective shell it's built of rocks and pine needles.

As I look up from the computer I realize I've written myself from dusk into full night. The mosquitoes have not quit their nibbling. Tomorrow we have about a five-mile hike out to the car. It seems such a measly number compared to the miles we'll need to put on during the PNT. We'll use different muscles going downhill with lots of weight. We'll plan to wear our sandals on the stream crossing, and I suspect it'll be a much colder experience walking practically barefoot through snow-fed waters. It should be a good day. By the end I think I'll be eager to get to Glacier and start this adventure!

What is This #1?

2009-08-16T11:24:00.000-07:00

An occasional series where we share for your amusement unique, curious, and/or fascinating things that we have encountered!

The following pictures were taken on 30 June 2009 in the Alpine Lakes Wilderness area of Washington State.

Our answer will be included in the next What is This post.
We encourage you to submit your thoughts using the Comments link below.

There's Something Outside the Tent!

2009-08-16T11:11:00.000-07:00

From 25 July 2009 - Between Polebridge and Eureka, MT

For months prior to beginning the PNT various dreams about bears haunted my sleep. They almost all involved a bear entering the tent. Each unfortunate, desperate dream-encounter ended in bruising, if not bloodshed. The bears always won. I'd awaken in the stuffy Iowa apartment bedroom bathed in orange light from streetlamps and a sheen of sweat. Each dream brought me to a sort of frozen terror – a sense of complete incompetence and lack of control. I did not want to fall asleep again should the dream bears return. Even Dale's presence next to me brought little comfort.

I don't know why bears chose to haunt my nights. I have never before been afraid of the big lumbering brutes. It's probably Timothy Treadwell's fault. And those rare, but overly publicized stories of “problem” bears acting out of the norm – almost always due to human incompetence and misunderstanding.

Fast forward now to the gray, early dawn of a July morning deep in the valley of Blue Sky Creek, Montana. I was groggily writing in a journal when I heard the metal fuel bottles outside clink together. Then something “hurrumphed” outside the tent.

The day before we'd had a long, hot hike on the Whitefish Range Divide Trail, and dropped into the valley in late afternoon in search of water. Throughout the day we passed more bear scat than I had ever seen in my life. Thick ropy cords of dark, mounded scat. Old scat, new scat, berry-full scat, hairy scat, lots of bear scat. Bears, I've decided, not only shit in the woods - they love to shit right on the trails. It was somewhat reassuring, I'd thought, to find less bear scat and more moose scat the further we descended into the valley. Even so... bears have long-ranging territories.

We bedded down on an abandoned Jeep trail along the creek. Darkness fell early in the shadow of the steep slopes of the valley and it was nearly dark by the time we hung our food and crawled into the tent. The coolness of valley air settled down over us, a reassuring blanket after the blistering heat of midday on the ridgeline. I fell into a restless, dreamless sleep.

Then, in the morning, something grunted outside the tent. My heart rose into my throat and beads of moisture popped out under my arms. I froze, waiting for another indication I was not imagining things. Something moved heavily in the direction of our water bottles, nestled near the fuel bottles.

Now – a quick aside. Some of you will be seething at this point because you have always been told to hang all your food-preparation things in bear country. That includes water and fuel bottles. Dale and I differ in that common opinion. We are careful with our food, no question. But we only use water bottles for water, and fuel bottles for fuel, and we do not cook greasy, splashy meals. We believe that pretty much every animal in a five mile radius knows when we've arrived at a campsite anyway, and for the most part they will chose to make a wide berth around us. Besides, we smell more strongly than either the fuel or the water bottles and if something wants to cause problems it won't be on account of a few plastic and metal bottles. So we leave them away from the tent, but not hung out of range of a swinging bear paw.

Okay, back to the action. Something moving and grunting outside the tent. Heart in throat. I set down the journal carefully and placed a heavy hand on my sleeping husband's shoulder. I shook him from a dead sleep, hoarsely whispering, “There's something outside the tent.”

Okay, that's my version. Dale will tell you I said, “There's a bear outside the tent.”

Either way, I must give him credit. If he'd been the one to give me that news I'd have curled up tighter in my sleeping bag and wrapped my hands around my head. (Okay, so this makes me seem like I'm scared to death of wildlife. I'm not. I just don't like not knowing what it is that I can't see – especially when I've been haunted by bear dreams and something is “hurrumphing” outside my tent in the gray light of dawn.) Dale on the other hand grabbed the camera (we've been keeping it close at night for just such an opportunity) and carefully unzipped the tent door and vestibule. The peeling back of metal zippers sounded overly loud in the quiet morning air and over my shallow breathing. He eased his long body out into the vestibule and stretched up to look over and past the tent.

Click, click, click went the shutter of the camera.

This is the first shaky version of what he saw:

“It's just a moose, Callae.” He informed me quietly. “No bears here.” The gentle bemusement in his voice told me this is something he'll not let me live down for some time. Waking my husband out of a dead sleep because of a “bear” outside the tent that I was too afraid to see for myself is not exactly in character with my otherwise eager-to-see-wildlife-self.

Just a moose. Well, humph. They can be dangerous too, you know.

In truth, it's not a bad way to wake up. And this was our first official moose sighting of the trip, too! Here's a clearer image of our morning visitor from the doorway of the tent. He looked as perplexed and put out as an alley-cat who is interrupted while caterwauling. Needless to say, he did not stick around long.

We've seen a lot of moose tracks throughout Montana and Northern Idaho, though this is our only live-sighting of one of these ungainly, gawky, beautiful beasts. I do hope we see more. And next time something grunts outside the tent perhaps I'll more easily face my fear of the unseen and unknown.

(Biology note: When uncertain about something most deer, elk, moose and other ungulates will breathe loudly and heavily in order to get a stronger scent and identify whoever or whatever it is that they cannot see.)

NEWS: Porthill reached on August 9th!

2009-08-10T09:48:00.000-07:00

On August 9th, Porthill was reached, no internet access so blogs will be mailed to us for posting in about 7 days. Of a projected 1,293 miles for the trail, 463 miles (35%) now done!

They are doing fine, having many adventures and will continue after a days rest. Next projected stop Northport (130 miles).

See updated map.

[Posted on behalf of Callae and Dale by Alan and Rachelle Frazier]

Can you teach an old dog new tricks?

2009-07-30T15:44:00.000-07:00

Thoughts from slightly above sea level...

After leaving the Blue Sky Trail in the Whitefish mountain range west of Polebridge, MT we stopped at the Clarence Creek US Forest Service campground for the night where we had the pleasure of meeting and talking with Ben Carlson, his wife Sharon and her sister Mary, native Montanans one and all. They were very hospitable (sharing food and fire), not much older than we are, and ready for a give and take on everything from our (continued?) coexistence with grizzly bears to global climate change to the keys to a good pancake (Krusteaz batter on a hot griddle with fresh Montana huckleberries). But an idea that kept creeping in was the ability (or willingness) of older generations to change their behavior regarding the environment and sustainability.

It was readily acknowledged that most of us know what we "should" be doing to protect the planet we live on (e.g. reusing grocery bags, unplugging electronics that aren't in use, and not throwing plastic forks into the fire) but moving from thought to action is another issue - especially if we have been doing it differently for years. Kids are blank slates - they can be taught "good" behaviors relatively easily because they haven't yet learned "bad" ones. But how do we overcome years of practice? Should we even try or should we simply write off anyone beyond college (high school?) and rely on change occurring on a generational time scale?

In Eureka, MT we had dinner with 83-year-old Thais Streeter and her grandson, Abe Quilling. They both agreed that everyone CAN change, but many people in our society WON'T change unless they see a personal economic benefit. I would argue that the economic benefit is there if you take the long view - and who better to appreciate that perspective than older individuals? Thais did point out that she grew up during the depression and learned at an early age to be conservation-minded. (She is also one of the only octogenarians who uses a computer regularly and will be reading this post online.) So why is it that some older individuals recognize when change is needed and act on it while others find it difficult to adjust their behavior?

Jake looking both ways before using the toilet at Clarence Creek

Clearly change is possible. After the oil shocks of the 1970's nearly everyone stopped taking plentiful gasoline for granted – the same thing happened after the recent spike in fuel prices. And it wasn't that long ago that only sandal-wearing granola eaters took canvas bags into the grocery store – now most people do it happily and feel like they are doing their bit to create a more sustainable society. But what about taking reusable dishes to the campground, or unplugging appliances that aren't in use but still suck electricity, or not buying bottled water?

If we can't do these small things as a society, how will we ever consider the environmental positions of political candidates when we enter the voting booth?

Overview of Glacier National Park

2009-07-30T08:48:00.000-07:00

We spent nine amazing days in Glacier National Park. Rather than going through details of each day we thought we'd give you a brief overview of our travels through pictures and brief descriptions. In many ways, it's impossible to describe Glacier in words anyway. We do plan to bring you more detailed entries about some specific experiences of our time there in future posts.

12 July 2009 - Jan and Horace drop us off at Bowman Lake Campground. We spend the evening staring up the lake and into the valley we plan to hike the next day. Overly habituated deer keep us company at the campsite.

13 July 2009 - Hike to Upper Bowman Lake Backcountry Campground. The skies are sunny and clear when we begin. Then rain begins mid-day and does not let up for more than 12 hours. Literally. Monsoon-like downpours. Consequently, few pictures.

14 July 2009 - Hike to Brown Pass Campground. Everything we own is wet, and as such our packs weigh twice as much as when dry. It's a steep, 2200 foot upward climb from Bowman to Brown Pass. At least the rain has let up, though the mosquitoes are out in force. The views when we stop to catch our breath are amazing.

15 July 2009 - Hike down the other side of Brown Pass to Lake Frances. A colorful, steep meander down switchbacks choked with spiky bear grass and other brightly blooming flowers. Lake Frances is gorgeous with green-blue waters backed by an enormous cascading waterfall. We think if it were warmer we might believe we are in the tropics. We spend the evening and morning in lively conversation with fellow hikers. Frances (not the lake) and Pam provide a unique Canadian perspective on park visitors. We are saved from man-eating mosquitoes by a lovely couple from Kentucky/Ohio who give up some of their 100% DEET for our sanity (Thanks so much, Billy and Jennifer!).

16 - 17 July 2009 - Hike to Waterton River Campsite near Goat Haunt and the original start of the PNT. We learn about local plants from Pam and Frances (fun, enthusiastic naturalists) and run across our first large herbivores on the trail – pack horses. At the campground the wide river provides gentle background noise to our night's respite. We run into Bart Smith, another PNT thru-hiker. (He's been photo-documenting all eleven national scenic trails and is finally on his way home! At Waterton River we go off our backcountry schedule and stay for two nights in order to rest our weary bodies. This gives us the chance to visit Goat Haunt and take pictures of Waterton Lake where we interact with the border patrol. They won't let us pass through customs (an open air "office" staffed by two border guards who read and relax when there are no Canadians around) without a passport...at least not until the tour boat from Canada has cleared the area.

18 July 2009 - Attempt to get back on backcountry schedule by hiking to Upper Kintla Lake Campground (19 miles). We make it as far as Boulder Campground (14 miles) in a long, difficult uphill climb from Waterton River back to Brown Pass (2200 foot elevation gain) and then up around Hole-in-the-Wall to Boulder Pass (another 1300 foot elevation gain). We are surrounded by blooming flowers and cascades of running water. We cross slippery waterways and traverse dangerous snowfields for hours. (Dale is a machine at kicking steps into steep snowfields for Callae to follow!) By the time we reach Boulder Campground area we are spent and go off our permit once again in the name of safety and self-preservation. We sleep in the open air where brilliant stars rotate overhead.

Looking back toward Bowman Lake from Boulder Pass trail

19 July 2009 – At Boulder campground in the morning we are visited by mountain goats. Later, after a steep hike down 3500 feet in elevation we arrive at Kintla Lake backcountry campground. It's a large site, but we're the only inhabitants for the night. Just us and the loons on the lake. Lovely.

20 July 2009 - Hike down Kintla Lake to the car campground at the base. Spend the night surrounded by more people and vehicles than we've seen in over a week. We interact with a bevy of interesting and engaging folks. Dale gets to test out a hybrid kayak (Thanks Jerda!). The next morning we are fed second breakfast of sausage, eggs, hashbrowns and cinnamon rolls by the Williams Family. Delicious! Thank you!

21 July 2009 - Arrive In Polebridge, retrieve a food box from the Polebridge Mercantile and enjoy a beer and pastries with two pika researchers, Matt and Zach. Our conversation turns from small-mammal research to how to save the world. More on that later, though I can say we came to no clear solutions about the world saving...yet. We decide we'll rent a cabin in Polebridge for the night and rest and recuperate before heading off on the second leg of the journey toward Eureka.

Glacier Wildlife - Bears!

2009-07-28T16:48:00.000-07:00

Waterton River Campground, 17 July 2009

When we arrived in Glacier National Park the backcountry rangers changed our original itinerary on account of a questionable passage over the still-snowy Boulder Pass. Any initial disappointment dispersed when we realized the new route took us to the original start point of the PNT at Goat Haunt - the south end of Waterton Lake. Additionally, we would not have experienced our first bear encounter had we not camped at Waterton River for a couple of nights.

It happened like this:

While we were eating dinner we heard something periodically crashing about in the tall willow bushes surrounding the "eating area and bear-hang." (Brief note: at Glacier the backcountry campsites are divided into three distinct areas - tent sites, pit toilet, and bear-hang/food prep area – often separated by 100 feet or more). I had seen moose tracks along the trail into the campsite, and suggested to Dale the crashing probably came from a moose. They are big and noisy and while they can prove to be very dangerous I was not much worried about one wandering into camp. We kept somewhat alert, but were concerned more with engulfing our food than with a possible ungulate visitor. Then the crashing came closer. We both looked up into the bushes in time to see a wide, furry face peer out at us. It quickly disappeared again behind the leaves. Dale asked me what kind of ears I'd seen. "Not moose ears!" I told him. They weren't deer or elk ears either. These were round, smallish ears above a round, largish face. My heart rate jumped a bit after that, and we both stood on the log benches at the food prep area peering into the surrounding maze of shrubs and trees in hopes of another view. The crashing progressed around the eating area, toward the pit toilet and the entry trail. I stepped over to get a better view of the trail leading into the campsite just in time to see a big light-colored black bear lumber into view. She was quickly followed by a small, dark ball of a cub.

I had two thoughts. "Wow, cool!" And "Oh shit". You don't want to mess with a bear at any time, but a momma bear with a cub can be an even more dangerous situation. This sow must have known we were there however, and really didn't seem too concerned with us. While she and her cub wandered in a wide circle toward the tent sites, Dale carefully stepped back to our tent to get the camera. I stayed put, and kept an eye out, heart racing. The sow found a downed, decomposing log about 25 meters from both me and our tent and began using her giant troweling paws to dig out grubs. The cub was hidden by the thick underbrush. After a few giant swipes at the log she caught wind of me and her head snapped up. Then she raised up on her hind legs and took a good, long look at me. I've never, ever had a bear stand up to check me out before. It was both exhilarating and chilling. Dale managed to get a picture from the side of the bear checking me out.

Black bear sow checking out Callae
(her cub was shy and hidden in the vegetation)

The sow clearly wanted nothing to do with me and dropped back down on four paws. At that point Dale carefully walked back to the food prep area, camera in hand. Good thing, too, as next thing we knew the bear with cub close behind stepped out into the trail leading to the tents and stuck curious noses right toward our home for the night.

Black bear sow at Waterton River Campsite
(Glacier National Park)
after checking out our tent (seen in upper right)

Shortly after that another couple came down the trail to the campsite. We quietly warned them of the bear's presence. Upon the hiker's arrival, the sow raised up her heavy body in a surprisingly quick, graceful movement to stand on hind legs one more time. This time her cub was also out in the open and it, too, stood up on hind legs. The sow stood about six feet tall, and her cub was maybe two feet tall. They looked like those cheesy images you see in western town tourist shops in the form of Christmas ornaments, or trinkets or paintings - a big brownish sow and her adorable little dark cub, all curious and harmless. If our bears weren't exactly harmless, they were at least not troublesome. Soon they moved on for the night and we neither saw nor heard from them again. Though I must say, I was less eager to make my midnight pee run into the dark that night...

Arrival in Eureka, MT!

2009-07-28T16:43:00.000-07:00

Callae and I have arrived in Eureka, Montana, safe and sound - if a bit trail weary. This small town on the route between popular tourist destinations like Glacier National Park in the US and Banff National Park in Canada provides our first WiFi access and first Post Office. We are sitting in The Cutting Board (www.mudcreekcrafts.com) - home of the famous Bubba Burger (as seen on Live with Regis and Kelly), an amazing concoction of beef, cheddar cheese, Cajun sausage, jumbo shrimp and creole sauce that won a national contest for best burger. Sorry to disappoint, but we choose more pedestrian fare for lunch.

We have stories of wildlife, weather, and interesting people to share before we continue West, and expect to stagger the posts so as not to overwhelm - check back often.

Posts will not necessarily be in chronological order of our experiences, but since there's a time delay anyway we figure that won't be much of an issue. And just to whet your appetite...

Two anxious bucks awaiting the next post

NEWS UPDATE: Eureka Reached

2009-07-28T14:39:00.000-07:00

Eureka Reached on July 28th, trail map updated with progress.

NEWS RECEIVED - July 21, 2009

2009-07-21T17:00:00.000-07:00

[7/21/2009 Posted by Alan & Rachelle Frazier]

Callae and Dale called from Polebridge this evening, a full day earlier then projected.

According to them, the last 10 days in Glacier National Park was fantastic (wildlife sightings and encounters, interesting people met, difficult vertical climbs) even though the weather was difficult at the beginning and trails adjusted due to snow and ice. They have many stories to share. After spending the night in Polebridge, they will be back on the trail, heading to Eureka for the next contact with civilization.

See updated posted trail map.

East to Glacier!

2009-07-11T10:17:00.000-07:00

(From Seattle)

This is it! Dale and I are heading off to Glacier National Park in a few minutes to start our long-planned, long-anticipated journey. Thanks to Dale's mom and step-father, who are driving us to Glacier, we will start our hike in Polebridge, MT on Sunday afternoon. (Thanks Jan and Horace for the ride!) We didn't get much sleep last night amidst all the last-minute packing details and anticipation. Okay, so I can't really speak for Dale, but I slept in fitful spurts punctuated by excitement, nervousness, eagerness and a few bear-encounter dreams (bears have been a reoccurring theme over the last few weeks). Dale is much calmer than I am this morning, and I am trying to soak in his collected, soothing attitude. I still have little butterflies flitting about my belly, even though our packs are in the car, ready to go and we don't hit the trail until tomorrow.

Our packs, by the way, are enormous. I was a little freaked out last night seeing everything laid out, and wondered how the heck I'd get it to all fit! Any go-light hikers would be rolling on the floor if they saw the size of our packs. The good news is we'll be eating a lot to get the weight down. It's going to be a challenging week!

The actual start to the PNT is on the East side of the park but the route through Glacier isn't open yet so we will begin on the west side. We'll start in Polebridge, MT on the west side of Glacier NP and hike east to the continental divide. We'll hike east up to Brown's Pass, stand with one leg on each side of the Continental Divide, and then take the northern (scenic) route back past the Kintla Lakes before turning south toward Polebridge again. This leg of the hike will cover approximately 75 miles, with an low average of 7.5 miles/day. We're leaving a food box at the Polebridge mercantile, and will pick it up around July 22. Then we head west across Montana, toward Eureka. The second leg of the journey will see an increased daily mileage and will cover approximately 80 miles in six days. We hope to get WiFi in Eureka to post a backlog of blogs!

At this point we are unlikely to have any news of our adventure posted here for a couple weeks. Check back after 22 July.

Oh, and if you are interested in keeping us up to date on what's happening in your lives (we'd enjoy getting letters or notes on the trail), we are recommending folks send letters or notes to the Frazier's and they'll drop it in the next food box. Keep in mind, food boxes are being sent about 15 days ahead of our arrival at the drop-point, so there will be a time-delay. Mail to: Callae Frazier/Dale Tessin, P.O. Box 233, Conifer, CO 80433. Indicate it's for the PNT somewhere on the envelope.

Okay, it's time to hit the road! Thanks to everyone we've heard from in support of our adventure. We'll be in touch when we can!

Callae & Dale

Shakedown Hike #1 – Part II

2009-07-09T08:50:00.000-07:00

Trip occurred 7-9 June 2009, Lost Creek Wilderness Area, Colorado.

Dale and I spend two nights in the Lost Creek Wilderness. We hike in a measly 2.5, maybe 3 miles. I feel like I could go further, and am heartened by that. (Our first day's hike for the PNT will be 5-6 miles, though we'll be averaging more than that later). We find an established, if little-used campsite high on a knob of a hill, set into the trees. It offers easy access to water below, and an open meadow on the slope of the hill provides a beautiful view down the valley. I am excited to spend a couple nights here. And I acknowledge that we're not really doing much backpacking on this shakedown...it's really to get out, get a little hiking in, test the gear, and relax. I hope to see some cool animals. There's a chance for bear, elk, deer, coyote, fox, possibly mountain lion and maybe even moose!

Both evenings we are sent into sleep by the haunting, undulating winnow of common snipe. The fat-bodied water birds make the sound when wind flutters through their tail feathers during their courtship displays. In the morning we are greeted by active, adorable baby pine squirrels cavorting around the trees. Our camp is surrounded by pine squirrel middens (think “big squirrel pantry”). At first we get chattered at constantly. Then the active rodents seem to accept our intrusion and scurry up and down trees and across the cone-strewn forest floor without much regard for us.

(See the chickaree squirrel in this picture?)

The second day I wake rested, if a little sore. I am very glad not to put on a full pack. I'll have to have a better attitude about that when we start the PNT when we'll need to break camp nearly every day. Dale and I go on a short hike and lay back in the sage while sun alternates with clouds and flurries of the light, round snow I've always known as graupel blow through the valley. Rock formations rise from the dark, pine-cloaked slopes in hooked curves and rounded humps. No moose appear and no fish rise from the creek. It is quiet, peaceful and quickly chilling. We head back to camp just in time for the sun to emerge fully. We pump cold water from the snow-fed meadow stream. Later we take a nap in sun-speckled aspen trees. I savor this time. We will be working much harder for our rewards in a few short weeks.

The next morning we pack up camp and hike back out to the trailhead. We've spent two nights in the field and have learned these things about all the gear we've brought with us:

Most of our gear is in good shape. Old, perhaps, and heavy compared to more current materials, but durable.
We will, however, need to find Dale a pair of hiking pants.

I need a couple less-worn pairs of wool socks to mail to myself half-way through the hike.
I would really, really appreciate a chair cover that will let me convert my Therm-A-Rest pad into a chair. (I've coveted Dale's for years, and never justified the cost for my own...until now).
Don't trust the durability of collapsible, soft-sided Nalgene bottles around pokey sticks or fire cinders. (Thank goodness for REI's generous return policy).
Those hard-sided, non-PBA, “indestructible” bottles are not, in the end, infallible.
You get what you pay for with inexpensive nylon rope (we snapped the cord of our hanging bag and will need new rope for bear-hangs).
We are glad we will be using mostly freeze-dried vegetables. The ones we dehydrated taste okay, but are chewy and strange.
You can't make tortillas if you forget to bring butter.
Powdered eggs have come a long way since we ate them at camp as kids. The ones we're bringing are MUCH better!
Silk sleeping bag liners are fabulous! Our old, tired, smashed-down bags have been given new life thanks to Jag Bags. We woke to ice in our water bottles on the first morning but were toasty warm in our liners. Plus, they are from New Zealand which somehow makes them feel sexier. A little sense of luxury in the woods is not such a bad thing...
Merino wool base layers are going to be worth their high price – especially for three months of usage.
One more trip to REI should do it for us. I hope. (In fact, we took several more trips. I'm a little embarrassed by how much time we've spent in outdoor stores this month. Then again, we have been in Iowa for a long time...

So, two nights in the wilderness and I am feeling pretty good about our upcoming adventure. I am disappointed we did not see any big animals (those elusive charismatic ones), but know there will be plenty of other opportunities. Our car is still parked at the trailhead and we hope the muffler will hold up on the bouncy ride back to the paved road. We're about halfway out, discussing what we learned about gear when I round a corner and slam on the brakes.

Elk!

Four of the large deer-like ungulates are staring right at us from either side of the road. They're all cows (females), all sleek and shiny. I haven't seen an elk since returning to Colorado. My heart does a little flip. Elk play a central role in my recently completed thesis manuscript. After all the time I'd spent buried in that project, and in memories of a long-ago elk study, I can't help but feel a certain connection with these large creatures, though not in a spiritual, totem kind of way. It's more like running into an old friend on the street. Your paths cross, maybe only briefly, and when you part you find yourself smiling for no reason the rest of the day.

This is a perfect opportunity for a picture of our elk encounter. Of course neither of us thought to pull out the camera. I, for one, was too enamored and giddy to even consider it. We did get pictures of the next few critters we came across though!

When we hit the sage-flats near the end of our dusty ride out we stop to snap some shots of pronghorn. They are a bit too far away for a good image, though the next antelope is much closer, and does not move as much.

Along the final stretch of dirt road (the worst of the ruts, as a matter of fact), with the highway in sight we get stuck behind a long horse trailer. We end up feeling glad we did, because at five miles-per-hour we can't miss the golden eagle perched on a pronghorn carcass right next to the road. We weren't fast enough with the camera to catch the eagle sitting on its dinner, so you get a shot of the raptor as it winged away. Immediately the magpies arrive. Shortly after that crows appear overhead. Curious, soft-eyed cows came to the other fence and stare at us, and the scene across the road. It is all quite tranquil, despite the somewhat gruesome scene.

The pronghorn certainly wasn't there when we arrived three days before. We speculate on how it died. (Not by eagle talon, by the way. They'll take young pronghorn perhaps, but not adults. They will always stop by for a free meal, of course). Pronghorn are fast, fast, fast. They co-evolved with the North American version of a cheetah a long time ago, and never developed the muscles to jump up or over things. Just those muscles for running. So there aren't many predators who will take a full-grown antelope. Fences however, can be deadly. Perhaps the pronghorn got tangled in the barbed wire and scavengers dragged it to its current resting place. Maybe it was simply sick, and keeled over right there in the farmer's field with cows watching on.

I want to jump out of the car and poke around the dead animal's insides a little. But the growl in our bellies suggests finding our own food would be a more worthwhile use of time. So Dale and I turn north on Hwy 285, drive out of South Park (yes, that South Park), and head back toward civilization. We only have a short time in the mile-high state before the next leg of our journey takes us to Seattle. And from there, the PNT!

Shakedown Hike #1 - Part I

2009-07-07T23:53:00.000-07:00

Trip occurred 7-9 June 2009, Lost Creek Wilderness Area, Colorado.

So, we’re heading off on this extended backpack in July, and a big part of me wants to just step out onto the PNT without any preamble. Hit the trail, suffer the pain and humiliation of being ridiculously out of shape for this sort of thing, but be moving forward, starting the trek.

Dale convinces me we need at least one shakedown hike. It'll give us a chance to make sure all our gear is in order, he says. I’m thinking neither of us have shouldered a pack in at least five years. Maybe more. It'll help our muscles start to remember what it's like to hike with weight, he says. I think about how we've had a longer than anticipated sojourn in the flat cornfields of Iowa.

There will likely be charismatic megafauna, he says. And I am sold. Big, sexy animals out in the field always make me feel better.

Of course, Dale is absolutely right. We need to get out in the field with our gear, and remember how to get by out there ahead of a three month commitment to wilderness backpacking. I am just not overly thrilled about packing for the first time in years at 9,000 feet above sea level after being back at elevation for only a week or so.

We spend most of the afternoon preparing gear at my parent's house. It doesn't take long before the deck is strewn, draped and covered with stuff. Mom and Dad have to walk through a maze of equipment as they bring BBQ ribs out to the grill ahead of dinner. When Dale and I finally sort through everything and lay it out before stuffing it into our packs I am more than a little overwhelmed. All this for only two nights?

Of course, we're bringing nearly everything we'll take in July in order to better replicate the actual experience. We have layers of clothes (base, mid, heavy), rain gear (pants, gaiters, jacket), sun hat, winter hat, gloves, three pairs socks (one for sleeping in, one for hiking in, and one for when the hiking socks get wet), and a pair of undies (we'll be decadent and take two pair on the long hike). There are hiking boots and a pair of camp shoes/sandals. We have a small, very basic toiletry kit and headlamps. There's gear for living out in the woods – a tent, sleeping pads and bags, a water filter, camp stoves (we'll each bring one on the PNT so there's a backup), fuel bottles, cookware, two Rubbermaid containers to eat from, spoons, two sharp knives, mugs (for hot drinks), a water filter and water bottles. We won't forget the map and compass.

There's emergency gear too – a first aid kit and a Personal Locator Beacon (PLB) in case of a dire situation that we simply cannot extract ourselves from. We have some repair gear and rope for hanging food bags to keep them away from bears and canny racoons. We are bringing a cell phone so we can connect with people once we get into town (though for most of the trip it'll be turned off and buried in the pack – no cell service in the wilderness, and possibly none in town depending on the location). As naturalists, we could not go into the wilderness without at least one field guide and binoculars. And to top it off, there's the all the extra gear that we would not usually take on a short hike, but for the PNT we are bringing to help document our experience. A camera, a genie GPS device to geo-code our images, a cute little netbook computer to write our blogs on, memory sticks and memory cards to mail images and blogs back to Conifer, extra AA batteries, an Ipod to keep us entertained on long, hard days and to double check bird songs. To keep all these electronic gizmos going out in the woods we're also bringing two solar chargers and a lithium battery pack. It seems ridiculous seeing all the high-tech gear scattered all over the deck, all this to keep us plugged into modern society when a big part of hitting the trail is to get away from all that. Yet we want to share the experience, and help others hike with us who may not otherwise be able to, so we'll compromise and allow the electronics and their weight.

By the time I finally, and none too gracefully, stuff my pack and lift it for the first time my heart sinks momentarily. It is heavy, and does not yet include food or full water and fuel bottles. Three months? 1200 miles? What had I gotten myself into?

Dale and I arrive at the Lost Creek Wilderness Trailhead mid-afternoon. We spend the first hour on our knees and backs under the car jury-rigging up my '88 Camry's muffler which jolted loose sometime during the long, wash-board drive into Lost Creek. Dale knows its better to take care of it while reasonably fresh than in a few days when we really won't have to deal with it. It's overcast, windy, and cool. I lay on my belly, arm stretched under the chassis to hold up the muffler while Dale finds a way to secure it. My nose presses into soft frilly sage under the car tire. My frustration fades into its smudgy aroma.

Finally, we're ready to hit the trail. Surprisingly, my pack settles onto my back easily. After the addition of a couple days worth of food and full water bottles it might weigh 35 pounds. The weight will go up when we pack enough food for ten or more days. It's a nice start for me, however. I'm outside, about to stride out across a narrow trail cut into the sagebrush slope. I'm back in the mountains. I've successfully finished grad school. It feels good to move forward.

Welcome to Beyond Sea Level Blog!

2009-06-26T17:16:00.000-07:00

Beyond Sea Level will offer posts of an environmental nature that range in scope from observational to contemplative, personal to philosophical, humorous to serious. We aim to visit and experience both the literal and metaphorical at and beyond sea level. At sea level it is easy to breathe and easy to see to the horizon - at least in one direction. Beyond sea level the elevation can prove challenging, forests can close in on all sides, and your focus may narrow to only the trail ahead. Sea level also represents our comfort zone – where routine dictates our thoughts and guides our behaviors. Beyond Sea Level we may be challenged, and while simultaneously curious and uneasy, find understanding and satisfaction in altered perceptions.

We continue our personal journey beyond sea level with a three-month backpacking adventure from the Continental Divide to the Pacific Ocean along the Pacific Northwest Trail (see Trekking the Pacific Northwest Trail).

Blogs on Delay
When we’re out in the backcountry, or otherwise travelling out of range of internet access, blogs will be posted on delay. You may not have any new posts for weeks at a time and then the blog will receive a sudden, multiple-post influx. Unlike the instant gratification of today’s electronic world, our blogging will follow the slower, (perhaps more rewarding) pattern of letter-writing from yesteryear. While we’re off in the wild, you’ll have a sense of eager anticipation, wondering what new challenges we’ve faced and triumphs we’ve experienced. You might wonder what kind of habitats we’ve walked through or how many bears, wolverine, or elk we’ve encountered. Then, just when you can’t hardly stand the tension of not knowing, voila!, the blog will receive a plethora of reading material which you can leisurely ingest while awaiting the next installment.

Of course the lack of immediate internet access (and sometime complete disappearance of wifi for weeks at a time) will hamper our ability to read and respond to your comments and emails. Please do not take it personally if you do not have a (or any) immediate response from us. We value your reactions and insights and encourage conversation between readers via the comments page. Enjoy!

Review our PNT Route and Timeline

2009-06-26T11:43:00.000-07:00

[Click on image above for larger picture]

Projected start date: 12 July 2009
Updated: July 21, 2009 - Polebridge update.

Updated: July 28, 2009 - Eurkea update.

Updated: August 10, 2009 - Porthill update.

Updated: August 21, 2009 - Northport update.

Updated: September 3, 2009 -Waunconda update.

Updated: September 8, 2009 - Loomis update.

Updated: September 21, 2009 - Concrete update.

Updated: September 27, 2009 - Bow update.

Updated: October 3, 2009 - Port Townsend update.

Updated: October 16th, 2009 - Forks update.

Final Map Update: October 25th, 2009 - Forks update.

Original map & trail image: Jon Knetchel, PNT Association (http://www.pnt.org/)

Many thanks to Alan Frazier for helping keep the blog and our progress map updated!

Trekking the Pacific Northwest Trail

2009-06-25T14:39:00.000-07:00

On July 12th we will begin our next adventure together, the Pacific Northwest Trail (PNT). One of our nation's newest National Scenic Trails (March 2009), the PNT travels 1200 miles from the continental divide in Montana to the Pacific Ocean in Washington State. Check out the trail association website at www.pnt.org for maps and info. The route includes three national parks and many national forests and wilderness areas, while roughly following our northern border with Canada through alpine, montane, and coastal rainforests.

Our timetable is loose - the trail, weather, and serendipity will determine our completion date.

Why embark on such a journey? "Because it is there" hardly seems sufficient. Instead we are taking advantage of the natural transition in our lives following Callae's completion of her MFA. Additionally, the PNT will provide perspectives unseen in urban settings - changing landscapes, diverse characters with whom to interact, and time to reflect. Through diverse ecosystems that exhibit unique flora and fauna, varying levels of human development, and correspondingly distinct management principles and practices, issues of biological diversity, coexistence of species and the role of humans within the broader natural system will arise. Meeting backpackers and car-campers, shopkeepers and land managers, will spur discussions of environmental values, both economic and personal. And within the daily routine of breaking camp and continuing farther west, we will have time to ponder our role within each system we encounter, whether it be natural, economic or social.