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