Just before Thanksgiving 2016 I drove up to the Cascades to experience the first real snow of the season. I got a bit more than I was expecting but none the less it was great fun. Here is my truck after I cleared snow from the windows. My roof rack is five inches over the surface of the shell and the snow covered the rack. The elevation is about 3600’.
Six months later I decided to return and see how things had come through the winter; I returned to experience the thaw. Well I tried to return but didn’t quite make it all the way.
Due to deep snow and downed trees, I couldn’t get through to the road to the meadow; so I decided to camp on a parallel road passing just below the meadow. I could then hike to the lower end and see how the area faired.
I had to cut through about 150’ of snow, mostly between 2 and 3 feet deep. I only removed snow to pavement on the left side. On the right I cut to within six inches of the road bed. I also broke off the tall parts so the truck didn’t have to plow though them. It took an hour and a half to dig the complete track.
In this view I’m looking downhill after I’ve passed. Here the snow is between one and two feet deep. The dark track is cleared to the bottom the light one is compacted by the truck’s weight; conservation of energy made possible by traction lock.
After following the road to the point where the snow was four feet deep in the center, I backtracked to a wide spot to set up camp. By straddling the drainage ditch I was able to level the truck and setup camp. The surface of the roadside was covered in compacted moss and strawberry plants. The surrounding forest is regrowth perhaps about 20 years old; the tallest trees are 30 to 40 feet tall. The trees are a mixture of mountain hemlock, Douglas-fir, western white pine, and western redcedar; with a few red alder mixed in near roads and streams. The Forest Service had thinned this area perhaps three years ago. The debris was left on site.
My priority was to find some shade and drink some water. That was more digging than I had planned on. Then I put some water on to heat for Coffee and broke out my lunch. I used a gift card from my friends to pack along a Subway sandwich (thanks, J & L!).
While I’m not generally keen on camping in the road, but for all intents and purposes, this was the end of the line. It was either camp here or retreat to a lower elevation.
I set up a chair in the shade, changed into shorts, ate my sandwich, and just listened. The sound of rushing water provided a sonic back drop missing on previous trips. A few passing flies would stop by for a sit but there were no mosquitoes – this I took as a harbinger of cold nights.
I listened to the background bird calls. A Swainson’s Thrush sang its song just to the east, a pair of Dark-eyed Juncos tisked from the low branches across the road, and several Western Tanagers chased each other through the canopy to the west. Occasionally a Gray Jay would call from the surrounding forest. And far off in the distance I could hear the loud rapping of a Pileated Woodpecker.
The drying stems of cut trees littered the ground so collecting firewood was fairly easy. I look for small branches and boles from cut trees not resting on the ground. I prefer Douglas-fir and redcedar, but it seemed that hemlock was much more common. I only split the larger pieces.
In this young forest hanging lichens are less common than they will be with age. But I was able to find a handful and use that as tinder to catch a spark from my ferro-rod. I planned to cook bannocks, corn, and rice for dinner so I needed a hot base. Given the lack of hardwoods this is a challenge. I find that lots of finger thick sticks will create a pile of charcoal. They will however burn out rapidly given windy conditions. So I bank the fire on three sides with larger logs and build the coal pile inside. The open side is where I’ll place the ear of corn. The bannock pan can be propped against one of the logs so it slowly browns the top.
Dinner was a success. About sunset a raven flew down the road passing low over my camp. I fed the fire and carved until the stars were visible, about 11:30 pm. In the darkness I could see that the stars illuminated the snow. Without moonlight, it was far too dark to wander about; but the view down the road was eerie with the ground lighter than the sky.
The night was cold enough that the snow didn’t melt and the roadbed dried. I exchanged my shorts and t-shirt for thermals for the night.
The morning dawned with heavy fog. I assumed that this was actually due to clouds that because of the elevation crashed into the mountain side. I stayed abed until the sun had dissipated them and warmed the air a bit. Staying in a draw meant that there are significant short term temperature swings. One moment it will be warm as the wind moves down the road. The next moment a cold breeze will blow down the drainage.
After breakfast, I decided to explore my surroundings a bit before the day began. I first walked down to the secondary road to look for vehicle tracks. Not finding any, I back tracked and walked the road to its end. I wandered along a few elk trails, but they were at least a couple of days old. I also came across coyote and rabbit tracks; but nothing recent.
As I suspected the snow was deeper further up the mountain and the amount of surface water increased. The exposed road bed was under about an inch of runoff. Tunnels in the snow made footing interesting in places. But the forest was quiet with only a few squirrels and Juncos announcing my passage.
I returned to camp just before noon quite exhausted from walking in the snow. I was very glad I had shed my thermals before starting out – it was very warm. The snow was melting again and a trickle of snowmelt was washing the road surface. I retreated into the shade with my chair and ate my lunch. Given the morning workout I decided that I would spend the afternoon peacefully making dogbane cordage. I brought along ten stalks harvested in Bend last year. I cleaned the stalks and dried them in our basement over the winter.
Here are three dogbane stalks perched against this year’s growth. I included a length of cordage that I made on this trip.
Cordage making is a relaxing way to spend time sitting in the shade. It also gives one the chance to pay attention to the local environment. I prepare and twist a single stalk at a time. The process starts with a stalk cleaned of side branches and leaves. The outer bark is scraped off with a knife, the pith removed, the fibers divided into equal sized strips, rubbed vigorously to remove the bark, and twisted together into cord. It takes me about a half hour to process a single stalk typically yielding a length of string as long as the stalk.
The warm afternoon passed quickly. I watched four or five Juncos splash in the snowmelt on the far side of my little road. At one point the Swainson’s Thrush family crossed the road to drink also. Several times I moved my chair to chase the shade to the east. I had just settled down to start work on the third stalk when I heard a squirrel chattering an alarm down the road. I froze and slowly turned to see what was causing the alarm – nothing was visible. I returned to my task listening as the alarms grew closer. Something was moving up the road only a few feet inside the forest edge. The Juncos stopped their splashing and took up the warning; darting in and out of the branches about three feet off the ground. They passed off their duty to a pair of squirrels who ran from branch to branch chattering furiously. Whatever animal had alarmed the locals it was not far off the road. I waited until the chattering had moved as far up the road as I could see hoping for a glimpse of the offender as it crossed.
Not seeing anything, I put on my shoes and carefully entered the forest casting for fresh tracks. I found nothing even though there were several places where any tracks should have been visible. I’m just too rusty. I scanned the ground side-lighting depressions with a strong flashlight – nothing. A bit frustrated I walked back to camp, started the fire, and returned twisting the dogbane stalk. At the time I was convinced that it was a bobcat. After taking with the dear wife I concede that, even though I didn’t smell it, it may have been a fox passing by.
She reminded me of a time we watched a fox visit our porch. The grey fox cautiously approached the cat dish and ate the remaining dry food then it turned and crossed the very dusty drive. We both saw exactly where it walked and it was still difficult to find the tracks. As I recall I only found a few. This was in dry dust at least a quarter inch think. Foxes are very light on their feet and even in the best of conditions their tracks can be hard to find.
I spent the rest of the evening twisting cordage, cooking dinner, and listening in the hope my visitor would return.
The evening was just as warm and bug free as was the last. I sat by the fire drinking decaf and munching on bannocks until the sunset. No ravens this evening – Gray Jays. I threw a few peanuts out into the road and they dropped down to investigate them. They rejected these and squawked their disapproval. I cracked a couple and threw the bare nuts out. They again swooped down, but this time they grabbed the nuts and flew off into the forest. When they returned I tossed out a few cracked but still in the shell. It took a few investigative attempts but they figured out that the good stuff was inside. After that, they didn’t hesitate to break open the whole peanuts. To render the process even more efficient, one bird took to landing next to my chair and calling for a reward – brazen birds.
Darkness descended and I retreated to my sleeping bag for the last time.
In the morning I took a short side trip up to the berry fields to look over that campground. The road was passable but there was at least five feet of plow cast snow blocking the entrance roads. The campground was entirely covered in snow. So that wasn’t an option.
It was another wonderful trip but I have to practice my photography. None of the photos of the Jays showed more than a speckle of vaguely bird shaped pixels. My photos of the fire were from too far away, and most disappointingly my new header picture was blurred by condensation on the lens. So, I have to work out these details.