9/13/12 -- Across the Last Range of Mountains (mostly)

Crossing the Cascades

We enjoyed Nason Creek Campground so much that we debated about staying there a couple more days.  Then, on Monday morning, it was really cold.  The sun stayed cold and the day didn’t warm up at all.  I checked with the campground host, just passing the time of day, when the host mentioned, “Oh, yeah, we should have snow in the next couple of days.  It’s cold enough and it smells like snow.”

We knew we were cutting it close, but we didn’t know it was that close.  Our last range of mountains still stood before us.  It was time for us to leave. 

We drove across beautiful Steven’s Pass at 4000 ft but didn’t stop to take pictures because, once we got to the top, most of the pass was enveloped in a rain cloud.  Western Washington is known for having a lot of rain.  Most of it falls as mist.  This was more than mist.  It wasn’t a Wisconsin downpour with buckets in the clouds but it was enough to require windshield wipers all across the pass.
Our “favorite of all time” campground lies off Stevens Pass on the western flanks of the Cascades.  We wanted to see it.  If it was closed for the season, we figured we’d stop and hike through it, just to see it again.

Beckler River

We were in luck – it was open and most of the campsites were available.

It is as incredible as ever.  The underbrush is full and lush.  Thick moss clings to tree trunks and hangs from branches.

Moss hangs like expensive lace

Some branches have several kinds of moss growing on them.  This moss has leaves that are nearly an inch across.

Even the roots that have not found earth to cling to are covered with moss.  They all look like they are wearing bright green fleece garments.  The bark of the Douglas fir is covered with moss like green beards.

Water drips from the trees long after a rain has passed.  The day we arrived, we had lunch in the trailer.  The sun was shining, making all the greens, greener.  At the same time, rain was falling.  Then we knew we were home.  Best of all, it wasn’t snowing – and wouldn’t for a month or so.  At Beckler, we could count on rain, but we wouldn’t have to shovel it.

We called Dad Monday night, as we do every day that we have phone service, and he told us that the lightning storm that we experienced just a couple of nights ago started major wildfires.  One was at Lake Chelan, one of the places we spent a couple of days.  The other was at Wenatchee.  It’s bad enough that they have evacuated people in that area.

We missed it by one day.  The smoke won’t come here.  The Cascades will hold it back.  We are fortunate to have missed it.

The timing on snow and on smoke were perfect.  I think we are not alone on this journey.  Thanks to the spirits that watch over us.

Beckler River flows all along the campsites.  At one point, rapids sing the river's song a little louder.  It is beautiful at all times of the year. 

Beautiful Beckler River

When we used to come here, our little schnauzer, Tasha, came with us.  She and Adina would sit on the bank of the river and meditate together.  When Adina got busy, Tasha sat for hours and meditated, watching the water flow past.  She was amazing.  We miss her and feel her spirit with us here. 

On Tuesday, our first full day at Beckler, Adina sat by the river in the sun and meditated.  I’m sure that Tasha joined her there.

This campground lies at 1500 feet elevation.  It’s cold there.  It was 53 degrees when we woke on Tuesday and, because it is a very damp cold, it felt colder than the 38 degrees we experienced in the mountains of eastern WA.  However, we know how to deal with this kind of weather.  We wear layers of clothing, then un-layer as the day warms – as much as it ever does.  On Tuesday, it didn’t warm up much, even though the sun was glorious.

Still, this place is like a fairy land.  How can I ever capture its beauty in a two dimensional photograph?  Douglas fir stand throughout the forest.  They are second-growth.  The old-growth trees were harvested by loggers years ago.  Those stumps still stand.  You can see from the following picture how big they are.  


Old Growth Douglas fir stump with Adina

The other tree that is common to western WA forests is vine maple.  This tree has regular maple leaves but small, usually a couple of inches across.  They grow on slender trunks that tend to bow and bend to the gods of the forest.  They are, of course, covered with moss. 


Vine maple arches

The size of the fern will give you some idea of this forest.  Some of them stand as tall as a half-grown child. 


Tall ferns!

Beckler River is COLD – fresh from the glaciers that we can see from the bank.  Some brave souls have waded out into that icy water to play recently.  They built cairns – stacks of stones – all down the river. 



Sculptures in the river
The trees with white bark are alders, not birch
Alders have both leaves and little cones

Adina says that one of them looks like a temple.  Makes the place feel holy.  She says that the energy at the riverside was so powerful that it took her breath away. 

I think they look like stone people wading downstream.  I wonder where they are all going?  I must be more relaxed from the move because I'm writing poetry again.  I wrote a poem about the stone sculptures in the river:

just a pile of rocks

just a pile of rocks
laid in the riverbed
glaciers grooved the ground
dropped them like sand
from a beachcomber's sandal

just a pile of rocks
gleaned from their bed
a bubbling, singing river
hurry!  hurry!
got a date with an ocean

just a pile of rocks
people aboard a raft of stone
scattered tribe guards their journey
traveling upstream
seeking wisdom at the summit

just a pile of rocks
ancient history, river-smoothed
trailed by the faithful
a temple-shrine
again, the sacred breaks through

The people who built these sculptures even left a little artistic offering in the forest by the campsite they had enjoyed.

Who is this person lost in the forest?

Wednesday morning we were treated to helicopters flying overhead for about three hours.  We worried that they might be flying giant buckets of water to the fires east of the mountains so gave the ranger a phone call.  The folks at the Ranger Station told us that the helicopters were flying information cable to a construction site high up the mountain.  We never would have guessed that one!

We sat in camp on the bank of the river eating out lunch when the camp robbers arrived.  There were a couple of little beggars that showed up.  The blue jays are the size of a large robin, deep blue bodies with black heads.  They yelled at us a lot, asking us to leave the table so they could have their share of left-over crumbs.

The chipmunks were even more aggressive.  They wanted more than crumbs and came right up to us to ask for their place at the table.   

Isn't he adorable?

A black squirrel yelled at me for being in his way but otherwise, he ignored me. He was busy gathering food for his long winter sleep when the snows come. His black tail was edged with silver, as though he had already swept it through a snowbank. 

We watched the river flow by all afternoon on Tuesday and Wednesday.  The light played with the waves and colored leaves floated downstream, gifts of trees who had already changed their colors, gifts from higher elevations on the mountains flanks.  Even the stones in the river glistened with colors like scattered jewels.  I can see why people thought to look to western rivers for nuggets of gold.  Beckler River could start a gold rush of its own.


colors of the earth
beneath the water's surface
stones like treasured gems

Beckler River has been good to us through the years.  This week, she was there to welcome us back.