A winter sunset over Fairhaven

I was lucky enough to have my camera with me on a walk down to Marine Park in Fairhaven as I caught the sun setting over the rail road tracks.

Margaret Anderson: The Ranger who Guarded Paradise

I have grown up around law enforcement. Getting ready for grade school, the sound of the racking slide of a pistol and the ripping of Velcro body armor as my dad prepared for another day at work broke the silence as I ate my cereal. Most days it is easier not to think too much about why he has to carry a pistol loaded with hollow point ammunition or wears bullet proof body armor. This New Years day it was unavoidable.

Pondering New Year Day snow shoe plans and waiting for breakfast to be served

I kicked of 2012 at a friends cabin, hidden just off the highway past Ashford, within walking distance Mount Rainier's entrance station.  Just six hours after going to sleep way too late, people started mulling about. A ranger passed with lights and sirens. And then another. And then an ambulance. After two more ambulances and eight sheriffs running lights, I gave my dad a call. Three minutes later my phone buzzed, a text from my sister.
"Dad had a message on his phone that said something about a shooting at the office and someone was down. He's pulling over to call back."

Four minutes later: "Margaret got shot"

Officer down. Words that sent chills down my spine.

I stumbled over the words as I read them to everyone else in the cabin, silent by that time. They might not have been silent but I wasn't listening.

Ranger Margaret Anderson was shot and killed New Years day when a gunman involved in a shooting in the Renton area early that morning blew through a chain up checkpoint lower on the mountain. Ranger Dan Camiccia pursued the car and called ahead for a roadblock to stop the car short of Paradise. Arriving at the roadblock, the gunman fatally shot Margaret before she could get out of her car, as well as fired rounds through Dan's windshield, though thankfully he was not injured.

SWAT team members searching in the park (TNT)

The gunman took off on foot from his car, triggering a manhunt. The brave men and women of agencies including the National Park Service, Pierce County Sheriff Department, State Patrol, US Forest Service, Lewis County Sheriff Department, Seattle PD, Tacoma PD, Enumclaw PD, US Border Patrol, and the FBI all responded to the officer down call and the following search. More than 150 LEO's responded in the first couple of hours. The gunman prevented the SWAT team from getting to Margaret for an hour an a half, shooting at anyone who approached her location.

Paradise was thrown into a lock down, visitors barricaded themselves in the visitor center with park staff working to keep people safe and comfortable.

Dad presenting to the press and answering questions (TNT)

More than 70 FBI agents flew in on a military plane from Quantico, Virginia loaded up with ATVs, snowmobiles, and other equipment to supplement the armored personnel carriers and other equipment already deployed. Helicopters and fixed wings searched over head, utilizing FLIR (forward looking infrared), while SWAT teams on snow shoes searched the ground. The incident came to end end when they found the shooter's body half submerged in Paradise Creek not far from the scene. Died from exposure and drowning in his frantic escape. A kind of poetic end to a terrible tragedy.

An mourning band, worn for 30 days after Margaret's End of Watch

I worked alongside Margaret Anderson, she and Eric worked underneath my dad in the protection division of the park. There is a passion for Mount Rainier that all of us who call the mountain our back yard, vacation, office, community service or playground share. Margaret shared that with all of us and we remember her life and sacrifice to protect Mount Rainier and its faithful people.

Just one staging area where emergency vehicles lined up 

Margaret was honored with a full LE memorial service. It was a long day of tradition and tears, one I never want to have to go through again, but an incredible ceremony which I was honored to attend. It started with the procession. A fallen officer's body is guarded around the clock, from their end of watch until they are laid to rest. MORA rangers and family led the procession of emergency vehicles carrying first responders from around the country. Rangers, firefighters, police, troopers, paramedics, and, just for Margaret, search and rescue personnel trailed behind the hearse. Locals waited along the route. Hand over heart onlookers wavered only to wipe tears from their face, old men held flags and solemn salutes. The procession onto the campus was framed by an American flag draped over the road from outstretched fire truck ladders.

Arriving at PLU: Mom and dad are in the front seat of the unmarked Escape, Kiana and I rode in the back (TNT) 

(TNT)

The full gamete of law enforcement tradition was pulled out, each one more powerful, more heart wrench than the last. Each ring of the 21 Bell Salute stabbed a little farther and the bagpipe performance of Amazing Grace was overwhelming. Its volume and power were unrelenting. The last radio call, when 741 fails to respond to dispatches hailing attempts is the hardest. Tears flowed.

A traditional riderless horse precedes the hearse carrying Margaret's casket (TNT)

(TNT)

(TNT)

On the 1st, I had snow shoes loaded up in my truck. The plan, after breakfast, was to head up to Paradise and enjoy the rare beautiful winter day with most of my best friends. Margaret is a hero. A ranger, daughter, wife and mother, her actions and sacrifice saved lives that day. She is gone but not forgotten.

Kiana, Dad, and Mom head across campus after the ceremony to end a long day with familiar faces at a park reception

Video of Taps, Amazing Grace and the 21 Bell Salute can be watched here.
A more extensive gallery of some pretty powerful images can be viewed here.

Randy offers comforting contact to dad after addressing the press just outside the entrance to the park while the manhunt is still underway (The Oregonian)

Rockin' the Boat on Ross Lake

There comes a time when you have seen everything there is to see in one park. I have worked in Mount Rainier for the last three years and lived in the area for the last five. This point is nowhere near in sight. Regardless, living in Bellingham, it is time to explore our own local national park in our own back yard up here, North Cascades. Kim came up for a visit this last weekend, arriving on Friday. Kim, Chris and I discussed our options over the construction of a large pan of lasagna (my first, a success by the way). A forgotten passport and climbing rope as well as the threat of impending rain crossed a couple options off of a list of about twenty five. Options included biking, kayaking or hiking in the San Juans or canoeing or hiking in North Cascades National Park.

Before the decision was made we headed downtown to Little Cheerful for a pre-adventure eggs benedict. Then we hit up the REI garage sale (not something anyone should ever miss). Between the three of us we saved over three hundred dollars (though I'm not sure to what degree we NEEDED any of the stuff we got) but I am very happy with my Suunto Core watch with an altimeter and compass. But still the decision was not made. The decision was not made until around 2:30 that afternoon in the Marblemount WIC after an in depth discussion with the rangers on their favorites that fell into our parameters of possibility.

It was settled. Canoeing to Big Beaver campground on Ross Lake. With our preloaded packs, we headed out to the trail head. In the WIC, the backcountry ranger had told us how pretty the lake was going to be and the most beautiful waterfall in the world. Hailing from Mount Rainier, the three of us were rather doubtful but North Cascades, as it turns out is a spectacular park. Rugged terrain shot up on both sides of Highway 20 as we drove towards our pullout, with mossy rocks and hillsides just starting to turn autumn colors dropping right into elongated, jade green lakes and pools. Rain had monopolized the forecast for the days leading up to the weekend as well as the next weeks worth of days so it was far from clear but a wispy mist seemed to frost the jagged peaks on either side. A three quarter mile hike, all downhill brought us to the edge of Ross Lake. A luxury compared to some of the other, more extensive hikes, I've done this summer.

As previously directed, we walked up to a telephone pole on the shore of the lake and found a sealed box with a phone inside. In inquisitive call by Chris to the Ross Lake Resort prompted the water taxi to swing around and pick us up at the dock. A minute and a half later we passed through the log breakwater and pulled up to the floating resort. As the wind picked up, the private cabins tempted us but we stuck with the plan and headed into the office to rent a canoe. Ignoring the innkeepers suggestion to wait for the white caps to die off, we set out with Big Beaver in our sites. In a line as strait as a bowl of spaghetti, we slowly figured out the fluid dynamics involved in piloting a canoe. I sat in the middle on a PFD which effectively turned into an oversized sponge. Kim managed to spoon water down my neck with her paddle. Nevertheless, it got quite enjoyable as we rounded Cougar Island and got on the lee side. After a nice 5 mile paddle we landed on the dock at Big Beaver Campground, ready for dinner. The tent was erected, along with a cautionary tarp. (Which, after viewing the pictures, my dad informed me was not up to his tarp-hanging standards.)

Sleep came easily after we played several rounds of rummy (all of which I won by a large margin, by the way) and "Unraveled the mysteries of the teenage brain" in the most recent National Geographic.
The morning surprised us with clear skys and sun. And by that I mean there was a streak where it wasn't cloudy, but hey, better than rain, right? We hiked up the trail a bit to check out "the prettiest waterfall in the world" one so pretty that pictures of it didn't quite make the cut for this blog entry. But along the way, as Chris was hiking in front of my something moved into the trail, something large. A massive western toad had jumped out of the blueberries, scaring the daylights out of me, then scaring the daylights out of Kim. After the initial shock. the beast was captured. Not a particularly hard feat as his attempts at hopping were nothing short of pitiful. But who couldn't love that amphibious face? (Definitely not Kim).

Camp was packed up (though somehow in the mix I lost my headlamp, which I still haven't found) and our packs were wrapped in trash bags and tossed in our canoe. Rather than the white capped waters of the day before, we were granted conditions that were no less perfect than glass. This time Kim took the position in the middle. The position came with the responsibility of  group photographer and we set out for Ross Lake Resort, hoping to make it back by noon in order to pay only for a single day canoe rental. Following waterfowl and hugging the shore, we headed South. Pristine waters and relative solitude appeased our collective hunger after failing to pack enough food.  Landing at the resort, we turned in our paddles, paid for the canoe and strapped our packs back on for the sub-mile hike out. Frequent conversation topics included pizza, the cheeseburger, and Chinese food. By the time we got to the car it was determined that for the recuperation meal, a restaurant with an all you can eat option was vital. After a call to make sure to make sure it was still in season, we bee lined for the nearest Olive Garden to for bottomless pasta bowls. Kim and I both finished off two complete bowls while Chris impressed our server, finishing three, ordering a fourth to take home. Canoeing burns off a lot of calories, okay?

As it turns out, you don't have to be hiking in Mount Rainier to enjoy the beauty of the Pacific Northwest, and North Cascades offers spectacular scenery, majestic lakes, and a pleasant escape from crowds and people all together. More NOCA to come.

What, pray tell, would I buy? There is nothing out here that is not free for the asking. Can you buy a sunrise? Is there a price to the exhilaration we feel from the thunderstorm that rages outside? Nature is the truest democracy, and not the richest man in the world is served a grander sunset than the beggar. -- Michael Furtman

Berkley park with Rachelle

An anemone casts a long shadow

Mountain Goats

You need only head into the wilderness with a pack on your back, not merely to discover the wild but to also to delve inward and discover yourself. I have found this rings true when sharing an adventure with a friend as well.

Rachelle and I bickered our way through senior year. I wont though, because I managed to get her kicked out of Mr. Lucas's second period English. (Yes, I'm taking credit for that.) She has grown up in the shadow of Mount Rainier, with her family prevalent in Eatonville and neighbors. She is one of the many ex and current Cruisers who speckle either side of the highway, between Eatonville and Paradise, waitressing and hosting at Copper Creek Inn. Needless to say, after serving countless families and other tourists, bee-lining to camp in Mount Rainier National Park, it was time that she got her shoes a little muddy and went backpacking.

Home for the night

Matching free time between work schedules is a constant battle, a sub-conflict in the war between professional life and social life. With a single day of overlap  per week and neither of us willing to give up an entire day's salary, we figured we could hit the road after Rachelle got off.
The drive down Stevens Canyon and up the Sunrise road was marked by a streak of rainbow on either side of the road, as we raced past lupine, paintbrush, and monkey flower.

A scraggly bear, browsing Berkley Park

Strapping on our packs (well MY packs, it pays to have extra gear), the Sunrise meadows welcomed us in. A herd of forty or so mountain goats greeted us as we stumbled over the ridge on to Frozen Lake, scouring the tundra like environment. Long shadows lagged far behind bobbing up and down on the trail, while a fiery sun set. Eventually, after a right turn off the Wonderland, a lazy marmot, and a feasting black bear, we paralleled  a chilling alpine creek, dropping into Berkeley Park Campground. I demonstrated to Rachelle the fine art of Kraft mac and cheese, furnishing chopsticks after one of us (I won't say who) forget her fork, and of course, the human dishwater sump, in proper LNT manner.
The next day's hike out confirmed that we were on the East side of the mountain. Drier climate and  abundant patches of sand (not mud) are a nice compliment to the frequent moist state of our homeon the West side.
After meandering hike up the Burroughs Mountains and some snow patch trans versing, we headed back to Sunrise. Sunrise is a very neat destination, don'g get me wrong, the redone visitor center in the old style, stockade look somehow belongs in the Sunrise meadows. The parking lot is a harsh and sudden juxtaposition that doesn't. That day was the worst that I've seen it. Cars for miles. The optimistic part of me tells me to be thankful. Rachelle and I drove up here, we came to enjoy all that the mountain has to offer.  Each car is another person or family who is getting out into their National Parks, and there is nothing wrong with that.

Some Andes mints and a Copper Creek burger

"It is better to be in chains with friends, than a garden with strangers."

A night in Sunset Park

Reveg has its highlights and its hard days, though one minor perk that I've alsways made an attempt to take advantage of is our far reaching work area. The option has been available to end your day on site when working in an interesting or less accessable crner of the park. For my most recent weekend kick-off backpack trip Kim (also on the crew) and I left from the end of West Side Road in Mount Rainier at Klapatche Point and ended at Mowich Lake for pick up the second day.West Side Road is an old park road that has since suffered flood damage and now remains only as a bike/hike trail as well as administrative staff past the three mile gate. Klapatche Point is another uneventful nine miles past the gate and has access points to St. Andrews cabin and the Wonderland Trail via the North Puyallup Trail. Every year on Reveg at least one work day is dessignated to control weeds up WSR, usually a manual sweep component and a smaller spray/reconisance crew working on high angle slopes to monitor and control Canada thistle populations that have historically existed on some of the janky scree slopes below and above Klapatche Point.
Kim and I spent the Thursday setting anchors of the truck and trees and scurring up and down the slopes and spraying thistles. After the day's efforts were winding down and the rest of the crew prepared to head down WSR in our four-wheeled drives, we made a quick change out of our uniforms and traded work packs for our backpacks.
The North Puyallup Trail is an underappreciated and underused trail. Old alders lined either side of the trail, creating a tunnel of green with sun shining through their sticky leaves. Kim shared a fitting Tolkien quote as we walked through the trees feeling very much like hobbits:
"Not all those who wander are lost".
The North Puyallup was a road back in the day and though all but a little of the evidence is gone or invisible, a few massive, intraciate, labour intensive rock walls from the CCC era persist, now covered in moss but very much an addition to the mystical feel of the area. After crossing the North Puyallup River and got on the Wonderland Trail.
The original plan was to stay the night on the Golden Lakes patrol cabin but Kip and Rob already had it reserved and as they were actually patrolling they had priority. The fall back plan was to just stay in the campground but after talking to the WIC (Wilderness Information Center) the suggestion of getting a cross country permit surfaced, something Kim nor I have ever done or even considered. You might know of my goal of staying at all four fire lookouts in the park, which at this point has not yet been completed (Freemont Lookout is pending significant maintenence). As it turns out there used to be a fire lookout up on a hill in Sunset Park, a park that the Wonderland passes through before dropping down on Golden Lake and was a prime spot for getting off the beaten path, or the path altogether. Following my dad's GPS and the highlighted map the WIC gave us, we broke off of the trail doing the very thing we worked to prevent during the week: meadow stomping. One might say that we should know better. That if anyone should be able to vouch for the impact of a single foot print (something like nineteen different organisms), it should be seasoned members of the reveg crew. The way we saw it, we served our dues. We are meadow walking elites, professionals in restoration and low impact veg monitoring, trained and experienced in such practices. With careful consideration on step placement, we made our way up on to the hill in Sunset Park to look for a place a quarter mile off trail in accordance with the law as well as a spectacular view of Rainier. With a full day of work and many miles already under our belt, both Kim and I were eager to find a suitable place and set up camp. About the time we started to run low on energy, we started to notice the bugs, the fatigue and the hunger. All motivation to find camp sooner rather than later. The mosquito really started to come out in numbers.

Can you count the mossies?

We made it to a little plateau near the top of the mound, with a sweeping view up the ridge towards the mountain and the cloud deck a few hundred feet below us, we emptied our packs and threw together the tent, sans fly, looking forward to a night under the stars. It soon became apparent that the mosquitoes weren't going to leave us alone. Swarmed with the pests, our only escape was to cover as much skin as humanly possible (hence Kim and I showing off our rockin' raincoats) bathe in deet, and pace back and forth to keep the bugs away. Dinner time came, starting off with some warm, left over cheesecake. I'm not sure that I've ever tasted anything better than Christine's cheesecake after a long day of work and a long day hiking. I hear it has zero calories too! Bonus!

Pretty standard, overnight carry out

As the sun set and the moon rose, one thing became apparent to me. Secluded away from the rest of the world in Sunset Park, with the sun setting and the moon rising over a glowing Mount Rainier, we were in the most beautiful place in the world. I say this with unwavering doubt. I've been lucky enough to find myself in some pretty special places in my short time, some breathtakingly beautiful ones at that, but our camp in Sunset Park blew me away. Words fail. A meadow of avalanche lilies and flowering bear grass blanketed the ground as a spectrum from orange on the horizon to a deep blue speckled with stars topped it off. The universe came together. There was nothing more to be had. I'm not one to get biblical but if there is a heaven out there, it has got to look something like Sunset Park.

Christine's famous cheesecake: if every hike could end with this, life would be perfect

All said and done, with our food eaten, smoked salmon on Ritz for hor's devores, followed by some mean Mountain House chicken teriyaki, we hit the hay. After spending a total of thirty seconds in the tent, it was clear the tent fly did more than just keep the rain out. Evidently we were in the path of mist rolling over our knoll which had passed right through the bug netting and sufficiently coated everything in the tent with dew.  I won't be making that mistake again. To minimize mosquito exposure we Packed up as much as possible inside the cramped tent and donning our raincoats, hoods and all before our egress. Stumbling out, the bugs seemed to have vanished, perhaps sleeping in this morning. But that lasted about two and a half minutes, before the hordes returned, seeking exposed flesh. After downing some mushy instant oatmeal (no dino eggs this time) and checking the campsite, attempting to stand up the depressed avalanche lilies, we doffed our rain gear in a well rehearsed, very quick execution in order to put our packs on and get moving on the trail as quickly as possible.

The Golden Lakes patrol cabin

Starting out on a game trail, probably elk, we slipped and slid our way back to find the Wonderland Trail, headed towards Golden Lakes and eventually Mowich. The Golden Lakes cabin looked proper, with Ranger Kip eating his cereal as the sun came up over the cabin. Greeting us with his usual "ranger spiel" until he recognized us, Kip and Rob then showed us around the cabin. A daring, high angle rescue for a camper's First Ascent jacket provided a little excitement at Golden Lakes, and after having our pictures taken rather incessantly and then walking off halfway through Kim's hike recommendation, we left the jacket owner along with Kip headed out to Mowich Lake.

Something like a ten mile day, the first five miles were down until we crossed South Mowich river. The back five miles, we could already tell, were bound to be tough. We prevailed though! Powered by teriyaki beef jerky and gold fish we pushed on. A little treasure trove revealed itself to us, right along the Wonderland Trail, a small population of Canada Thistle (Cirsium arvense) ensuring a return trip on the clock, armed with chemical herbicide. A true reveg member is never off duty. Blue berries also appeased the pain of the uphill push. A fruiting bush ALWAYS meant a quick snack stop to mow down, in between each of us needing to "get a drink of water" or "retie a shoe".

The fork for the Spray Park trail came none too soon. That area south of Mowich is a spectacular area. Chilly creeks and lush moss make for a pleasant and peaceful place. And then we broke out in the Mowich campground. Mowich is a special place. Frequent car break-ins and a notoriously, long, dusty, rough, and wash boarded road aside, Mowich Lake is beautiful. One does not just stumble upon the Lake, a lengthy drive past deforested forests and bullet-hole-laden Forest Service signs opens up into the parking lot filled with Subarus.

After a little effort, we picked out the Forester belonging to Kim's parents, tracked them down half way across the lake, and piled in headed back to Eatonville, to wash uniforms and pack a lunch for work the next day.


"Beauty for some provides escape, who gain a happiness in eyeing the gorgeous buttocks of the ape or Autumn sunsets exquisitely dying."
                                                                                                           -Langston Hughes

Indian Henry's Patrol Cabin

A bear grass blossom in the beginning stages of blooming

A success! Now I am three for three, having gone camping for the last three weekends out of the last three weekends. So far this is turning out to be a good summer (based on the fact that im taking less showers and eating more beef jerky and my sleeping bag just stays packed for the next adventure).

The fog rolls in 

Indian Henry's Hunting Grounds is a beautiful part of the park, when the snow melts wildflowers carpet the meadows and outline alpine creeks and ponds. The cabin at the T where Kuatz Creek Trail junctions with the Wonderland is the first established patrol cabin in the park. The quintessential, back country, log cabin, it  supports back country and wilderness rangers on patrol as well as employees spending off time in the park.

Always looking for an adventure, Kim and I planned this one way in advanced, as in drove up to Longmire with our packs and then decided where to go. All very well planned out. Kim's friend and roommate from Seattle, Maureen, also joined us, excited to stay in a patrol cabin.

A cozy kitchen

As it turns out Kautz Creek Trail is one of the more steep trails I can recall, going up and coming down we all had aches and moans. Stops for "water breaks" (rest breaks in disguise) heading up and stretch breaks to try and salvage our knees from what felt like mutilation on the way down were frequent. A beautiful hike though, the first mile is flat along Kautz Creek, and then the next four miles is pretty dense and steep. The payoff is worth it though as you enter the sub-alpine and alpine zone and open up into meadows. Going up to the cabin, we got more and more socked in as fog rolled in for the night.

When we started getting worried about being turned around and decided to get the map out, only to find that the cabin was about 100 yards away from where we though we were lost. The fog was dense. The quaint cabin welcomed us in. Someone had left two airplane sized bottles of wine outside the cabin accentuated the old solid wood and iron door, reminding us that civility is in fact possible in the backcountry.

A gift, presumably left by ranger admirers

Obsession much? ;)

After paying our dues in the fog, the morning brought clear skies and the enormous mountain. It back-dropped the cabin perfectly; a reminder that we were in paradise. Marmots had the right idea, basking in the sun along the rocks on the way down.

Look at those fantastic pancakes

Hard to beat, in or out of the backcountry

After going to sleep socked in, we woke up to a blue bird day