Rain. That's the prediction for the whole week. I should know better than to look at weather forecasts. I'd much rather just be surprised by the elements and deal w/ it then.
So we were off to fix the Prince Creek footlog. Cool. Fixing a bridge. It's a simple process really.
1. Find a really fat log that is next to impossible to move w/ two people on a swede hook.
2. Drag the log into place under the bridge where it will be the new sill.
3. Stencil a groove that will be chainsawed out to fit the footlog.
4. Somehow wiggle the fat log out of place and play with the chainsaw (I didn't get to do this part, they don't let me play with power tools with blades).
5. Chisel, we are in the wilderness, but one must chisel this log to perfection.
6. Make a giant stack of rocks under the bridge, rolling really heavy ones because it is fun.
7. Jack the bridge up and then fight with the log again to roll it back under the bridge and onto the pile of rocks.
8. Spend an annoying amount of time making the log level and dragging it back and forth under the log. Too far. Back the other way. Too far again. Isn't this close enough? Let's drag it this way one more time (we're playing within a half inch of putting this log in the exact spot). And then release the jack with a whoosh as the bridge settles.
9. Surround the log with lots and lots of big rocks. Rocks everywhere. You almost couldn't tell there was a new log under the bridge.
10. Do all of this in the pouring rain.
This portion took a day and a half. Then we started on the other side of the bridge but only had enough time to excavate under the bridge for the new sill and play with more ridiculously huge rocks to maneuver without losing them in the creek.
The nice thing about working on the Prince foot log was our boss taking pity on us camping in the rain, and allowing us to take the Forest Service boat back with him at the end of the day so we could dry off. Enough of fun projects though. Off to our 'normal' duty of logout. We asked the boss why he always contracts the projects and he told us our function was logout, that's alright, I don't mind hiking with a saw, but Kristian is bored with sawing trees being our only job.
So we're off to camp at Domke Lake again. This time working on the lower Railroad Creek trail which starts in Lucerne (where the boat docks) and goes all the way to Holden Village. It's Memorial Weekend. There are a lot of campers. Luckily Kristian and I hike faster than all of them so we can get a decent spot for our tents.
The visitors were actually really neat. There were 8 dads and 16 middle school kids. Apparently the families are all friends and neighbors and have been going on a trip like this for 7 years, starting when the kids were 6 (no moms allowed). We were impressed that they were getting all their daughters, and then the brothers to still be camping w/ them. They invited us over for wine after work one day and Kristian and I realized we had a small fan club from the dads. Questions about what we did in the off season, what we ate out here, what work was like. I guess they thought we had an awesome job, much better than their 9-5 jobs. We agreed, we think our job is pretty sweet. (and when visitors give us wine, it's a very sweet job). One of the dads commented that when he had seen us with our big packs, the saw strapped to mine, Kristian with the pulaski he said "Now those are two women you don't want to mess with".
After work the next day, we stopped by Sid's for a visit. (Sid owns cabins on the lake and rents them to fisherman, he is also part of local history). He had invited us over the other day, yet we found ourselves working late and drinking wine with the dads. We had a pleasant surprise when we got to our camp though- the dads had left us their leftover spirits supply. A box of wine, the end of a bottle of tequila, and some whiskey. Kristian and I looked at each other and laughed, our response to the tequila was the same- don't touch it. We decided it would be nice to keep giving the gifts and take them over to Sid's. On our way over Kristian asks if I have my headlamp, hers was forgot. I do have it, and she says "good, but we're still leaving before dark." Alright. We leave by 3 am.
Sid is a very interesting guy. We drank at least three bottles of wine with him as we listened to his stories. He's part of the local history. Inherited the lake from a guy named Gordon Stewart who was a trapper. There used to be a town at Lucerne with a tavern where some miners lived, Sid was around when the tavern was still open in the 70's. He showed us pictures collected from over 60 years of the area. As the night wore on, Kristian and Sid started a political discussion that I was very entertained to watch. We knew it was getting late, and we were supposed to wake up at 6, but we also knew it was very rare to have the opportunity to sit with a local legend (who insists he's just another person, which he is, but like it or not, he's part of the settling and unsettling of Lake Chelan).
Quotes from the night "Imbibing spirits shortens the distance, and increases the conversation" and a parting bit of advice as we walked out the door passed on from Gordon Stewart "Take no shortcuts". We were glad of that advice. We took no shortcuts finding our way down the path to our camp, and promptly falling asleep.
Next morning I wake up around 6 out of habit, roll over to see what time it is, I say 'hell no' and fall right back asleep. I wake up again around 7, rain is pattering on my tent, and again I say to myself, not waking up yet, and fall asleep again. By 8:30 I'm up and boiling water and Kristian and I slowly pack up camp to hike down to Lucerne. Our plan is to start working on the Railroad Creek Trail from the Holden side. Yesterday it took us 2 hours to walk to work, and 3 to walk back. We make our way down the mountain, stop by the guard station at Lucerne to get the truck and the Lesmeister's (the summer caretakers at Lucerne) are there. So we have brownies and lemonade. Eventually we make it up to the village, open up the guard station up there, stop into the lodge to get water, and end up visiting w/ a few people. We finally make it onto the trail around 1:30. Slow day. Somehow we just couldn't move any faster. But once on the trail, we worked away.
We had heard there was a wedding happening in the village, but not wanting to intrude had made dinner at the guard station. After having hot showers at the village, we wander into the dining room to get tea and some friends invite us to the dance that is happening tonight. We figure we might as well check it out. (I had found a clean shirt to wear from potty patrol, so I was feeling halfway decent). Holden folks continually surprise me. I watched the dance for a while, and eventually joined in, found a couple people who could partner dance, and I attempted leading one girl. And then of course there's an after after party. Kristian had departed very early- catching up on sleep. I, on the other hand, was on course for another all night out. While dancing a girl had asked, want some tequila? I thought for a moment, thinking to myself this was probably a very bad idea, and then shrugged and said sure. Holden folks are quite the partiers. To explain my night: I was running from the village to the guard station a little after 7 the next morning, the thought in my head "Oh shit I'm late".
At least Kristian got a good night's sleep in the cabin. And I discovered the best cure for a drunkover is a brisk hike early in the morning. I show up at the cabin, say "5 minutes!" change into my work clothes, shove my gear back into my pack, lunch in the daypack and am back out the door- as ready as I would have been had I woken at 6 (minus breakfast). It's going to be a good day.
We had cached our tools on the trail and needed to reach them today, hopefully finish logout on the trail, and catch the ferry out of Lucerne that afternoon. We were working until the last minute, hurrying back to the truck and racing off back through the village (w/ no last visits or goodbyes) and to the dock. And off we were once more on our return journey to civilization.
Friday, June 4, 2010
Saturday, May 22, 2010
Domke Lake
Kristian and I, the epic and amazing trail crew are next sent up to Domke. I catch the ferry and am overwhelmed by a bunch of high school kids that are on their way to Holden for the weekend. There's about 200 of them. - we hear later from some Holden friends that they play jokes on the high schoolers, awesome ideas... they pull over one bus on the way to the village at a 'security checkpoint' and drag off the bus driver explaining to the kids that they don't have a Russian bus driver. They plant a few bags of clothes in the truck that is hauling all the gear and stop at a bridge and start chucking stuff out of the truck. Opening the planted bags and tossing clothes everywhere. It's Adidas bags, something a lot of kids have and they exclaim 'hey! that's my stuff'.
I escaped the ferry, finally found by pack in the gear and rescued it from being hauled up to Holden and chucked off the bridge. Up the trail to Domke we go. My pack is heavy. We compared packs, mine was heavier, I also had the saw strapped to it. We complained a lot as we put on our packs and started hiking up. I remembered from last season that I almost died going up this trail. It was my first trip, my pack was extremely heavy (I hadn't learned to pack yet), I remember it took me a ridiculous amount of time to get up to the lake, and I had to stop and take a lot of breaks... this time we rocked up the trail in and hour and a half. As much as we complained at first, we were there in no time. To the lake w/ Sid's cabins and some friendly neighbours in the campground.
Our neighbours had been up at the lake for the whole weekend, fishing, picking mushrooms and drinking. They have been coming up to the lake on this same weekend for about 9 years. This time they had taken a float plane in because they go deluxe and got tired of hauling up 90 lb packs. They still had leftover beer and food and were hiking out the next morning, so we helped them lighten their packs. An evening around the fire finishing off the beer, they sauted up some morels, had baked a cake. good night.
We were logging out the Emerald Park trail, supposedly until we hit snow. We never hit snow, we just ran out of time to actually make it to the park. We got about four miles up. Fighting with logs, picking morels along the way- we could pick them or step on them, so we saved them from a sad destruction.
Some nice thunderstorms while we were out there. Kristian walks up the trail to where I'm working at one point and just laughs for a few minutes after seeing me. Finally she asks 'I wonder what my face looks like?'. The rain on top of working in a burn area and my face somehow became covered in soot. And another day spent working in the rain. The raingear only worked for about half an hour, and then we were soaked thru the whole day. Stopping for lunch we got too cold, so w/out breaks we just kept doggedly working on, hiking up hill some more, figuring if we kept working we'd eventually feel our fingers again... we did... eventually. The only time I really enjoy rain while camping is at night when I'm cozy in my tent. There's some comforting feeling to hear the rain patter and the thunder. (However while I'm in the rain, there's a different feeling towards it).
Wildlife: Sid's free range horses. They wandered up to us from somewhere in the wilderness and talked w/ us. We saw them a couple times. Very pretty horses, they appeared to be dwarf horses- but not quite ponies. We were told later they were Norwegian Fjord horses, built for packing.
I heard the loon again. Such a haunting call. Haunting and soothing at the same time.
Soon enough we were packing our tents up again to head down to the ferry, but first we scrambled to a place called Stewart Camp, further along the lake, where remains from a camp are left. The camp has been closed since the Domke fire in 07. Along the way we watched a float plane land on the lake, and then we saw a guy leaning out of the cockpit and paddling the plane along the lake. Yes, paddling a plane. The plane looked interesting for a float plane, it's body was the ski, and it was sitting low in the water. The pilot tied off the plane to a log in the middle of the lake, and then he and his buddy fished from the plane. One guy was sitting in his camp chair on the front of the plane, the other was leaning against a propeller. And there they fished.
We worked our way down the trail. Digging drainages. I do not like working w/ my pack. Each time I take it off to work for 2 minutes, and then have to heft it back on hurts more and more. My pack technically should have been lighter than 5 days ago, but I had filled it w/ mushrooms and of all things had left over food. Great, pack is just as heavy as. Yet finally, we made it down the trail, not too much worse for the wear. The weather gods had decided to bring the clouds and wind back, so we were unable to swim before getting on the boat. Too bad for the other passengers.
Very happy when our boss picked us up from Field's Point- the ferry stop. We had been waiting for a while and were developing a plan on how to hitch hike w/ our saw and pulaskis and packs. But we smiled sweetly at him and he stopped at Pat and Mike's for us where our favorite person who works there, was still there, and we got waffle cones filled w/ lots of yummy ice cream. Always ice cream.
I escaped the ferry, finally found by pack in the gear and rescued it from being hauled up to Holden and chucked off the bridge. Up the trail to Domke we go. My pack is heavy. We compared packs, mine was heavier, I also had the saw strapped to it. We complained a lot as we put on our packs and started hiking up. I remembered from last season that I almost died going up this trail. It was my first trip, my pack was extremely heavy (I hadn't learned to pack yet), I remember it took me a ridiculous amount of time to get up to the lake, and I had to stop and take a lot of breaks... this time we rocked up the trail in and hour and a half. As much as we complained at first, we were there in no time. To the lake w/ Sid's cabins and some friendly neighbours in the campground.
Our neighbours had been up at the lake for the whole weekend, fishing, picking mushrooms and drinking. They have been coming up to the lake on this same weekend for about 9 years. This time they had taken a float plane in because they go deluxe and got tired of hauling up 90 lb packs. They still had leftover beer and food and were hiking out the next morning, so we helped them lighten their packs. An evening around the fire finishing off the beer, they sauted up some morels, had baked a cake. good night.
We were logging out the Emerald Park trail, supposedly until we hit snow. We never hit snow, we just ran out of time to actually make it to the park. We got about four miles up. Fighting with logs, picking morels along the way- we could pick them or step on them, so we saved them from a sad destruction.
Some nice thunderstorms while we were out there. Kristian walks up the trail to where I'm working at one point and just laughs for a few minutes after seeing me. Finally she asks 'I wonder what my face looks like?'. The rain on top of working in a burn area and my face somehow became covered in soot. And another day spent working in the rain. The raingear only worked for about half an hour, and then we were soaked thru the whole day. Stopping for lunch we got too cold, so w/out breaks we just kept doggedly working on, hiking up hill some more, figuring if we kept working we'd eventually feel our fingers again... we did... eventually. The only time I really enjoy rain while camping is at night when I'm cozy in my tent. There's some comforting feeling to hear the rain patter and the thunder. (However while I'm in the rain, there's a different feeling towards it).
Wildlife: Sid's free range horses. They wandered up to us from somewhere in the wilderness and talked w/ us. We saw them a couple times. Very pretty horses, they appeared to be dwarf horses- but not quite ponies. We were told later they were Norwegian Fjord horses, built for packing.
I heard the loon again. Such a haunting call. Haunting and soothing at the same time.
Soon enough we were packing our tents up again to head down to the ferry, but first we scrambled to a place called Stewart Camp, further along the lake, where remains from a camp are left. The camp has been closed since the Domke fire in 07. Along the way we watched a float plane land on the lake, and then we saw a guy leaning out of the cockpit and paddling the plane along the lake. Yes, paddling a plane. The plane looked interesting for a float plane, it's body was the ski, and it was sitting low in the water. The pilot tied off the plane to a log in the middle of the lake, and then he and his buddy fished from the plane. One guy was sitting in his camp chair on the front of the plane, the other was leaning against a propeller. And there they fished.
We worked our way down the trail. Digging drainages. I do not like working w/ my pack. Each time I take it off to work for 2 minutes, and then have to heft it back on hurts more and more. My pack technically should have been lighter than 5 days ago, but I had filled it w/ mushrooms and of all things had left over food. Great, pack is just as heavy as. Yet finally, we made it down the trail, not too much worse for the wear. The weather gods had decided to bring the clouds and wind back, so we were unable to swim before getting on the boat. Too bad for the other passengers.
Very happy when our boss picked us up from Field's Point- the ferry stop. We had been waiting for a while and were developing a plan on how to hitch hike w/ our saw and pulaskis and packs. But we smiled sweetly at him and he stopped at Pat and Mike's for us where our favorite person who works there, was still there, and we got waffle cones filled w/ lots of yummy ice cream. Always ice cream.
The summer in Chelan begins
1. I sleep in the yard.
After one wild week of being stateside again, I return to Chelan to work. A friend picks me up from the train station, dinner and then I arrive at Aunt Kathryn's. They had told me they would be at their farm, so I find the spare key... and the door won't open. It's the only door to the house that you can unlock from outside, but apparently I can't.
I search for an idea of what to do. It's 11:30, everything is closed, too late to call, I'm tired... so I pull my tent out of my pack set it up in their front yard and call it a night... to wake up at 6 in the morning to the sound of Bob opening the front door, surprised to see a tent in the yard 'well Adelaide, the house is open now, come on in'. And that was that. They had decided to come back from the farm early, and forgot to expect me, and apparently the key to the house doesn't open the deadbolt, no one had ever tried before, so no one knew. Kathryn was just glad the sprinklers didn't come on during the night.
Yeah, this is going to be a good summer.
2. On to the trails.
My coworker Kristian and I swapped New Zealand stories while I spent the day filling out bureaucratic paperwork and getting gear. The pain was short lived though. The boss was out of the office, and while out injured his thumb and had to get stitches. Ken is a great boss, just longwinded, makes the paperwork drag on.
I'm immediately sent into the field to work with a WTA crew for the week. I love volunteers. There were 12 on the crew, most of them retired, a few librarians, and one younger girl. I got to look official in my uniform and go over saw safety and how to use a radio.
We were camping at Prince Creek and working on the Prince and Lakeshore trails. And they were CAMPING. A boat had shuttled all our gear up, so it was like car camping. They had a huge cook tent, tons of food, camp chairs, big tents, packs full of who knows what. I enjoyed eating their food. They had plenty to spare, and it was nice to eat real cooked meals every morning and night. Campfires, guitar picking, and yoga. Someone asked if I could lead yoga, and a bunch of them joined me fora sun salutation.
I met the legend Gary Zinc. Last season we had been working on Agnes and were supposed to meet up with him. But he started working on the trail from the other side. We never saw him, but we saw the trail he cleared, and heard stories of him carrying his 60 pound pack and 3 saws. He really does carry 3 saws all by himself, and he is the sweetest guy, retired from working at Boeing, and out working trails for fun. 7 days w/ WTA, they were sad when I left, while I was happy to go home and take a shower and have one day off.
After one wild week of being stateside again, I return to Chelan to work. A friend picks me up from the train station, dinner and then I arrive at Aunt Kathryn's. They had told me they would be at their farm, so I find the spare key... and the door won't open. It's the only door to the house that you can unlock from outside, but apparently I can't.
I search for an idea of what to do. It's 11:30, everything is closed, too late to call, I'm tired... so I pull my tent out of my pack set it up in their front yard and call it a night... to wake up at 6 in the morning to the sound of Bob opening the front door, surprised to see a tent in the yard 'well Adelaide, the house is open now, come on in'. And that was that. They had decided to come back from the farm early, and forgot to expect me, and apparently the key to the house doesn't open the deadbolt, no one had ever tried before, so no one knew. Kathryn was just glad the sprinklers didn't come on during the night.
Yeah, this is going to be a good summer.
2. On to the trails.
My coworker Kristian and I swapped New Zealand stories while I spent the day filling out bureaucratic paperwork and getting gear. The pain was short lived though. The boss was out of the office, and while out injured his thumb and had to get stitches. Ken is a great boss, just longwinded, makes the paperwork drag on.
I'm immediately sent into the field to work with a WTA crew for the week. I love volunteers. There were 12 on the crew, most of them retired, a few librarians, and one younger girl. I got to look official in my uniform and go over saw safety and how to use a radio.
We were camping at Prince Creek and working on the Prince and Lakeshore trails. And they were CAMPING. A boat had shuttled all our gear up, so it was like car camping. They had a huge cook tent, tons of food, camp chairs, big tents, packs full of who knows what. I enjoyed eating their food. They had plenty to spare, and it was nice to eat real cooked meals every morning and night. Campfires, guitar picking, and yoga. Someone asked if I could lead yoga, and a bunch of them joined me fora sun salutation.
I met the legend Gary Zinc. Last season we had been working on Agnes and were supposed to meet up with him. But he started working on the trail from the other side. We never saw him, but we saw the trail he cleared, and heard stories of him carrying his 60 pound pack and 3 saws. He really does carry 3 saws all by himself, and he is the sweetest guy, retired from working at Boeing, and out working trails for fun. 7 days w/ WTA, they were sad when I left, while I was happy to go home and take a shower and have one day off.
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