Adventures NW Magazine Winter 2016/17

WINTER 2016/17

WINTER WONDERS >>> EXTENSIVE OUTDOOR EVENTS CALENDAR INSIDE

SNOWSHOE TRAILS SKAGIT: SOURCE TO SEA RESCUE ON DENALI SKIING IN THE DARK GREAT WINTER HIKES HAGER MOUNTAIN LOOKOUT BAKER BEACON RALLY RAFTING THE NOOKSACK

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CONTRIBUTORS

WINTER | 2016/17 Volume 11. Issue 4

James Bertolino’s poetry has received recognition through a Book-of-the-Month Club Poetry Fellowship, the Discovery Award, a National Endowment for the Arts fellowship, two Quarterly Review of Literature book publication awards, and the Jeanne Lohmann Poetry Prize for Washington State Poets. Recent volumes of poetry include Every Wound Has A Rhythm and Ravenous Bliss: New and Selected Love Poems. He and his wife, poet and artist Anita Boyle, live on five acres near Bellingham.

When Dallas Betz loses himself, he goes to the forests, mountains, rivers, and sea. It is there that he finds himself. His Skagit River adventure had been brewing for years, and finally given wings with support from Brandon Nelson Partners and Adventures Northwest.

He is ever-grateful for that support.

Long ago, Kathy and Craig Copeland rearranged their lives to make hiking the white-hot molten core of their shared identity. They built their livelihood on a unique ability to express the wonder, joy, and exhilaration they feel in wild places. They’re now Canada’s most prolific hiking-and-camping guidebook authors. Visit hikingcamping.com to see their titles and peruse their blog.

Shirley Erickson has been creating art in Bellingham, WA since the late 70’s. She started out as a painter, but soon discovered the allure of glass. After attending Pilchuck Glass School, she shifted her focus to sculpture. She teaches at Bellingham Technical College. Learn more at shirleyerickson.com.

Bob Kandiko has made Bellingham and the Pacific Northwest his home for 40 years. Following the mantra, “opportunity is a bird that never perches,” Bob heads to the mountains, the coastline, and the slickrock whenever possible. He will choose the new and unknown—full of uncertainty—because the rewards of these adventures have proven to be richer.

As a recovering commercial photographer specializing in advertising and public relations, Alan Sanders now concentrates on fine art photography. He leads workshops at Whatcom Community College in Bellingham, WA. and is a digital imaging specialist at Quicksilver Photo Lab in Bellingham. Visit him at AlanSandersArt.com John Scurlock has been photographing mountains and glaciers from the air across western North America since 2002. His images have appeared in numerous publications and have been widely used by skiers, climbers, geologists, and glaciologists. He’s currently working on a project to photograph all the glaciers in the lower 48 states, in cooperation with scientists at USGS and Portland State University. See his work at pbase.com/nolock.

COVER PHOTO by

A Look Ahead:

Our Spring Issue

Mark Harfenist lives in Bellingham, where he took up backcountry skiing 20 years ago in a rare moment of clarity. During infrequent periods unsuited to skiing he also dabbles in mountain-biking, kayaking, motorcycling, and world travel. His spare time is spent working as a family therapist and mental health counselor.

David Inscho has long been socially awkward; as far back as he can remember, wild places have been a refuge. A move to the Pacific Northwest in 1995 from upstate New York has only deepened that sense while exalting in Washington’s Cascades. Though he resents cameras displacing his wine ration while backpacking, the luminous landscapes more than compensate for the hardship. david-inscho.smugmug.com

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INSPIRATIONS IN THIS ISSUE

Between Storms

David Inscho

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John D’Onofrio

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An Interview with Lawrence Millman

John D’Onofrio

22

Beyond the Horizon

John Scurlock

26

Excess is All

Mark Harfenist

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Dallas Betz

30

Bob Kandiko

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Meditations on Winter from Hager Mountain

Winter Wonders Snowshoe Trails Along the Mt. Baker Highway

Shrunken Heads and Globalization

A Journey Home The Skagit from Source to Sea

The Weight of Time A Rescue on Denali

What good is the warmth of summer, without the cold of winter to give it sweetness?

- John Steinbeck

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Collaboration I

n 2015 I had the pleasure of enjoying dinner with Robert Michael Pyle, a fine writer and noted lepidopterist (butterfly expert). Over the course of a splendid evening, I mentioned that one of my favorite writers was Lawrence Millman, author of some absolutely wonderful travel narratives and a modern-day explorer par excellence. It turned out that Bob knew him.

Shortly thereafter he introduced us via email. I immediately contacted Millman, inquiring as to whether he might consider writing a piece for Adventures NW, explaining that we were a small, independent publication that could not afford to pay anywhere in the range of the periodicals in which his work normally appeared (Smithsonian, National Geographic, Sports Illustrated, Outside, etc.).

His response was immediate: “As I would rather support a small publication than a large one (Death to Corporate Capitalism!), much to the detriment of my bank account, I’d be glad to send you some of my writing.”

Since then, Millman has graced the pages of Adventures NW with several wonderful stories (Wildlife Viewing in the Canadian North, Winter 2015 and Encounter with the White Grizzly, Autumn 2016).

He flew out from his home in Cambridge, MA. to Bellingham earlier this month, presenting a film at the Pickford Film Center and giving lectures to various mushroom groups (he’s also a noted mycologist) around the Puget Sound Area and in British Columbia. We got to hang out. We absorbed the election together. We became friends.

In this issue, we have an exclusive interview with Millman and as one would expect, his thoughts on travel, the natural world, the unnatural world and the art of writing make for fascinating reading.

We’re also thrilled to present Bob Kandiko’s amazing (and harrowing) story, The Weight of Time, about a climbing trip on Denali that went horribly wrong. His epic account (told over a span of 35 years) is a tale of desperate fortitude and hard-won redemption. A brand new book, The Bond, written by Simon McCartney—whose life Kandiko saved on the mountain—has just been shortlisted for the Boardman/Tasker award for mountaineering literature and also received the Mountaineering Non-Fiction Award at the Banff Mountain Film and Book Festival. In this issue, we are fortunate to hear the story from Kandiko himself.

David Inscho’s piece about nine solitary days and nights in a frozen lookout cabin atop Oregon’s Hager Mountain, Between Storms, is another treat for the

WINTER | 2016/17 Volume 11. Issue 4

winter reader. He illustrates the piece beautifully with his stunning black and white photographs.

A Journey Home is Dallas Betz’ account of his search for the soul of the mighty Skagit River. Betz’ made his trip as the result of winning our ‘Live Your Adventure’ contest last year and financed by a $1000 cash award from local realtor Brandon Nelson.

All this plus a cautionary tale by Mark Harfenist; John Scurlock’s remarkable photography; gear reviews, natureinspired art and poetry.

It is truly a privilege to bring these inspired expressions together in one place.

I hope that you enjoy the issue—and the season!

Adventures NW magazine www.AdventuresNW.com John D’Onofrio

Publisher/Editor john @ adventuresnw.com

Jason Rinne

Creative Director jason @ adventuresnw.com

Marian Jensen

Accounting accounting @ adventuresnw.com

Ethan D’Onofrio

Digital Media ethan @ adventuresnw.com

Alan Sanders Photo Illustrations

Distribution: Sherry Jubilo, Aaron Theisen, Dareld Chittim, Cora Thomas, Eric Nelson, J&M Distribution, Gold Distribution Services, North Cascades Mountain Guides Adventures NW magazine is printed by Lithtex NW Printing Solutions, Bellingham, WA.

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Out About &

SRBEIC: Flying High After 20 Years

(L-R) Kyle Peninger, Leatha Sullivan, Ember LaBounty, Anissa Smith, Cora Thomas, Judy Hemenway

U.S. Forest Service, the Skagit Eagle Watchers, and the Skagit Eagle Festival.

The Skagit River is one of the Pacific Northwest’s most beautiful watercourses, flowing down from the North Cascades and making its sinuous way to the Salish Sea. In winter, bald eagles gather along its banks in amazing numbers, feeding on salmon. This epic cycle of salmon and eagle is one of nature’s great spectacles.

For the Skagit River Bald Eagle Interpretive Center (SRBEIC), the 2016-2017 winter season will mark twenty years of sharing the amazing bald eagle migration with visitors from near and far. In December and January, this small nonprofit is in constant motion. The mostly volunteer-driven team educates eagle watchers about the Skagit River watershed by hosting a variety of educational activities including guided nature walks, speaker presentations, a K-12 School Program, informative videos, interpretive displays, a Nature Store, a Children’s Corner, and a life-size eagle’s nest.

They’ve reached this 20-year milestone with the help of enduring collaborations with Skagit County Parks and Recreation, the

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The 20-year celebration would not have been possible without the devoted Skagit River Bald Eagle Awareness Team.

Long-time east Skagit County residents Judy Hemenway (Treasurer/Sponsorship Coordinator), Ember LaBounty (Nature Store Manager), Leatha Sullivan (Secretary), and former President Deanna Ensley have passionately served the organization and community since the winter of 1996. New SRBEIC Coordinator Anissa Smith has brought invaluable environmental teaching experience to the team. Cora Thomas, a third-year volunteer, editor and PR manager, stepped into the role of president last year.

“People visit once, are awed by the beautiful experience, and then return the following year with family and friends,” Thomas explains. The Center’s increasing tide of visitors underscores the importance - and popularity - of the organization’s work, which highlights awareness of human impacts on the ecosystem Each winter is different. Eagle and salmon counts fluctuate, the weather is unpredictable, and the organization’s budget rises and falls. However, one element never changes—the appeal of getting up close and personal with the eagles. Last season saw approximately 3,500 visitors in only 35 days.

“Our work is important for future generations,” Thomas says, “and we would like to continue to stay open for many years to come.” But the future can be uncertain at times for this volunteerdependent organization, which relies each year on grants and donations by individuals and organizations.

The Interpretive Center is open weekends from December through January (closed on December 24 and 25), and every day from December 26-30, 10 a.m. to 4 p.m. at Howard Miller Steelhead Park, 52809 Rockport Park Rd. in Rockport, WA. The SRBEIC is currently seeking volunteers to join their team and help celebrate their 20th Anniversary. To learn more, contact srbeatic@frontier.com or 360-853-7626.

More info: skagiteagle.org.

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Down the River with the Whatcom Land Trust Join the Whatcom Land Trust for a raft trip down the North Fork of the Nooksack River on “Black Friday”, November 25. The scenic trip is part of the growing #OPTOutside movement encouraging people to spend the day after Thanksgiving enjoying the great outdoors instead of jostling for position at the mall. The concept, started by REI, is catching on fast.

Last year some 1.4 million people opted outside on Black Friday.

Along the river, you’ll gain a water-view of a number of Land Photo by John D’Onofrio Trust-managed properties and perhaps glimpse an eagle or two. The water along this stretch is flat and the adventure is suitable for rafting newbies.

Proceeds benefit the work of the Land Trust, the local non-profit conservation organization that has been protecting Whatcom County’s agricultural and wildlands since 1984. The trip is made possible by support from REI and Scenic River Tours and is limited to 30 participants. A second trip—with a focus on eagles and salmon—is scheduled for January 8.

More info: whatcomlandtrust.org.

The Baker Beacon Rally Beckons

The Wild Pacific Trail

Avalanches are a fact of life in the North Cascades. For anyone with designs on venturing out into the backcountry this winter, understanding snow conditions and basic avalanche rescue skills is essential. But fear not! On Saturday, December 17, the Mount Baker Ski Area is presenting its annual free (and fun-filled) community education event, The Baker Beacon Rally from 11 a.m. until 2:30 p.m.

You’ll have the chance to learn and practice search techniques with local avalanche professionals, and become familiar with the use of beacon, shovel and probe. There will be practice stations for hands-on learning, demonstrations and presentations. Attendees can also take part in a two-lane buried beacon rescue race.

In addition to offering up potentially life-saving information, the Baker Beacon Rally tends to be a blast. And the icing on the cake: more than $3000 in prizes will be given away.

More info: mtbaker.us.

Visit AdventuresNW.com for complete listings of Outdoor events. stories & the race|play|experience calendar online.

3Great Hikes for Winter Baker Lake Trail

Baker Lake is a very busy place in the summer. The campgrounds are full, the lake is buzzing with all manner of watercraft and the air is thick with the smoke from a thousand campfires. But in winter it’s a different world, where both solitude and silence are easily found. The Baker Lake Trail extends along the east side of the lake for 14.5 easy miles (total elevation gain is a mere 500 feet) but delightful shorter excursions can be had from either end, offering up views of Mt. Baker and Shuksan on a clear day.

From the north end—which intersects the Baker River Trail a half mile from the parking lot—you can cross the river on a grand suspension bridge and head south through vibrant green rain forest as far as Noisy Creek (4.5 miles from your car) where there are campsites on the lake. Or from the south end, a 2-mile walk will deposit you at Anderson Point, also with campsites. Both make fine destinations for a day hike as well. The elevation of the lake is only 700 feet, so it’s often snow-free in winter.

Trailheads: North Access — Baker River Trailhead at the end of the Baker Lake Road, 26.5 miles north of WA-20. South Access - from WA-20 drive north on the Baker Lake Road 14 miles and turn right on the Baker Dam Road towards the Kulshan Campground. Pass the campground, cross the dam, turn left on FS-1107 and proceed 1 mile to trailhead on the left.

Wild Pacific Trail Great hikes often lead to great views. But the Wild Pacific Trail offers the blissed-out foot soldier continuous great views. Virtually every step of the way you are surrounded by scenic grandeur that pegs the awe meter. As the name suggests, the route follows the edge of the Pacific, which is indeed wild with a capital ‘W’ along this Photo by John D’Onofrio stretch of Vancouver Island’s west coast. Numerous trailheads provide access to different segments of the trail, but you could walk the whole thing (10 KM) in one go—if it weren’t for the countless stops to take photographs along the way. No worries. Make a weekend of it, savor the experience and send us some pictures.

Trailheads: Various trailheads around Ucluelet, BC.

Rock Trail Sometimes, trail names can be deceiving. Not here. This short excursion in the Chuckanuts delivers as promised: the rocks are amazing. From the Cyrus Gates Trailhead, plunge down through a wonderland of mossy sandstone, descending staircases that represent the pinnacle of the trail-builder’s art. The trail itself is remarkable. You’ll drop like a stone past chiseled cliffs and shadow-filled grottos. It’s only a little over a mile to the bottom but it might seem... somewhat longer on the climb back out.

Trailhead: End of HiLine/Cleater Rd off Chuckanut Drive, about five miles south of the Fairhaven district of Bellingham.

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Between Storms Meditations on Winter from the Hager Mountain Lookout Story and photos by David Inscho

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My relationship with winter is complicated.

I want to delight in it, I want to feel its sting, I want to fear its ruthlessness, and ultimately I want to wish it on its way.

H

a woodstove, a shed stocked with wood (and snowdrifts), propane lights and stove, and a privy, all at 7200’ and available to rent for $40/night. I thought it a bargain.

One must reserve the Hager cabin six months in advance, leaving the traveler subject to whatever seasonal elements are present for the ascent. I was lucky on

aving played hard in New York’s frozen Adirondacks much of my early adult life, mild Bellingham winters leave me wanting. I discovered that renting lookout My small mountain top world cabins in winter allows me a chance to wade hip-deep in snow and get my fill of the invigorating cold, intense storms, abundant stars, and brilliant sun.

In southeastern Oregon, the Hager Mountain Lookout looked perfect: a frozen shack with 13 windows,

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the hike in. Winter storms had been common and fierce in the weeks preceding my arrival, and indeed one was clearing as I reached the tiny town of Silver Lake, the jumping off point for the hike into the lookout. I retired early, determined to get an early start the following morning.

The day dawned clear and cold.

Another winter storm warning was issued for the following two days. It was a nine-mile drive to the trailhead — three of them unplowed — but my 4WD vehicle handled the winter conditions admirably. After 11 hours of driving from Bellingham, the task was finally before me: haul 93 pounds of gear and supplies, sufficient to hold me for nine days, through snow-covered ponderosa and sage. I wore a pack and towed

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a home-made pulk to manage the exceptional load across the four-mile snowshoe route that climbed some 2000 feet.

It was beautiful. It was hard. It took almost five hours. The pulk worked really well except for the three blowdowns that I had to clamber over.

Toward the end I could only go 20-30 feet at a time before having to stop and catch my breath. The load and the altitude were taking their toll.

Arrival was sweet.

Our star I unpacked for the long stay: clothing in drawers, food in cabinets, sleeping bag puffed up to regain its loft. Satisfied with my temporary home, I started a fire in the woodstove.

A brief nap set things right in mind and body and then I was ready to take in my hard-won surroundings: insulated walls,

a supply of dry wood, and the hallowed woodstove, already audibly ticking off

the degrees of warmth as the light outside faded into the darkness of a winter night.

The storms over the next 36 hours made a big impression. From the comfort of my toasty 14 x 14 backcountry penthouse I beheld blasts of snow, cold, and winds that bowed the windows like

they were made of gelatin. Many comments in the logbook mirrored a frightful thought in my head “What if one of the windows blows out?” Seeing that others had voiced this concern—but the windows were still there—was somewhat reassuring. Meanwhile, the lookout shuddered like an Apollo capsule on re-entry. I limited my forays outside to absolute necessity.

I had plenty of time to reflect on previous accounts in the logbook describing stormy hikes on Hager Mountain. They shared stories of obliterated trails, whiteouts, frozen fingers and faces, snow-stung eyes, and desperate thoughts of spending the night on the slopes below. One couple recounted terrific winds and snow that forced them

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to take temporary refuge in the privy to thaw out before blundering onward in search of the cabin itself.

The woodstove Oregon High Desert was a real joy—it filled the cabin with visible, audible, and tactile warmth. It took very little wood to keep the place abundantly warm so I refined my ability to dampen the fire as low as it would go.

Each evening I would revive it and tune in to the “Firebox Channel” for my evening entertainment. Wood chores provided welcome activity in the otherwise indolent lookout life. Hauling, stacking, fine splitting, and kindling work all kept me busy. Allowing the fire to die through the night allowed for a good sleeping temperature, usually not much

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lower than freezing.

My mornings started with first light, Venus beaming on the horizon,

and a new fire in the stove. I stretched and meditated with daybreak as cowboy coffee brewed and an orange pecan or mountain blueberry muffin warmed in the oven. After partaking of the coffee

and muffin sacraments there was plenty to read, lots to write, and always a picture to take.

The rimed hut constantly drew my attention through the shifting light. It was architecture at its natural best; great roofline gargoyles of ice, frost - filigreed railings, and baroque portals.

As the first storms cleared I began to appreciate the volcanic high desert landscape that surrounded my lofty perch. I looked out over lava flows, craters, and columned buttes; igneous toys in a messy geologic playroom. I also had enough time to take in the last full moon of the year rising above the horizon before disappearing into the clouds.

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The fifth day heralded clearing from the top down with the cloud deck eventually resting peacefully below summit level. Delighted, I took in the views of Mt. Shasta, Crater Lake, Steens Mountain, Mt Bachelor, Broken Top, The Three Sisters, and Mt. Jefferson.

On clear nights I did tours with the camera to take in the moon, stars, and distant lights of Silver Lake and Burns. It was a bright and beautiful landscape and I stayed out as long as my fingers and camera could take the icy whip of winter.

Sleep was deep; as lights were dimmed the reflections in the windows melted away, leaving a pearly snowscape and a sky filled with glittering stars. Dreams came easily.

Shoveling was a daily activity to keep things cleared out: woodshed, privy, deck, both sets of stairs. The snow and wind were restless around the cabin. The path that I had cleared to the privy the day before was all smoothed over by the next morning and the drifts were constantly being rearranged, making outside navigation a constant challenge.

Some days required laundry and a bandanabath to freshen up. Evenings wound down with a mug of rum-fortified hot Glühwein and a ramble

The fire within

Renting a Bit of Winter

The Hager Mountain lookout cabin, located near Silver Lake, Or. is available to rent from November 15 - May 15. Access is via a strenuous four-mile trail on cross-country skis or snowshoes. The fire lookout is a 14’ x 14’ room that can accommodate up to four people. It is furnished with a bed with a mattress and three sleeping cots, a table and chairs, propane stove, heater and refrigerator.

Some cooking gear is available. A picnic table is provided outside, should a midwinter alfresco picnic be your style. A pit toilet is also located nearby.

There is no water on-site, so guests must either bring what they need for drinking, cooking and washing or plan on melting snow. Guests must also provide their own food, sleeping bags, sleeping pads, a light source, towels, dish soap, matches, cooking gear, first aid kit, toilet paper and garbage bags. A camera, book and dark chocolate might also come in handy.

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outside to take in whatever sunset was in evidence; in any case it was an antidote to the cold and stinging snow, and a great way to, as Shakespeare put it, “...go greet the night.”

The last night, New Year’s Eve, was perfectly contemplative and peaceful. Abundantly clear skies prevailed, with the lights of civilization below and a celestial display above. I had a long drive home the next day. Upon turning out the gas light at about 9 p.m., I spotted a yellow flashing light on road

4-12 below. It looked as though the Lake County grader was plowing the 3-mile section to the trailhead. I went to sleep with one less concern on my mind.

As a new year dawned, it was time to head down the mountain. The prospect of leaving was surprisingly difficult despite my hankering for indoor plumbing and cotton clothing.

It had been an indulgent experience made cozy by simple pleasures and the warmth of the fireside. I was freed to marvel at the force of the frozen wind, delight in the fluttering of crystalline snowflakes, feel the

by Kathy and Craig Copeland weight of welcome silence, and savor the confluence of moon and stars, elegant Zen Buddhists refer to our incessant mental snowdrifts and vivid sunchatter as “monkey mind.” It’s pointless distraction light. It was the kind and futile worrying. It keeps us anxiously fixated of treasured encounter on the past or future, preventing us from living that sees me through the fully in the moment. They quell monkey mind by murky and damp nights meditating. You can also do it by hiking. When of winter in the Pacific your body takes your brain for a ride, it just stares Northwest, and orients calmly out the window. me back toward the bright Extracted from Heading Outdoors Eventually Leads Within side of the season. ANW

by Kathy and Craig Copeland

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Winter Wonders for Snowshoe Trails along the Mt. Baker Highway

Story and photos

by John D’Onofrio

I On the way to Artist Point

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n winter, the North Cascades are truly in their element; simultaneously softened by the blanketing snow and rendered more dramatic by the relentless fury of the elements. It is a landscape of extraordinary beauty, carved and chiseled by the weather of eons gone by. This is their season.

Summer, as they say, is a beautiful lie.

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Those Who Wander The Mt. Baker Highway is your gateway to the spectacular peaks, slopes and valleys above the North Fork of the Nooksack River. Diverse joys await those who venture out on snowshoes— the unique and profound hush of snow-covered forests, the gleaming of row upon row of snow-covered summits, the singular joy of a day well spent in an exceptional place. And yes, even solitude, that sometimes elusive commodity, can often be found in the silent backcountry.

Options are plentiful and frequently glorious, ranging from casual afternoon strolls to multi-day expeditions. Although avalanche hazards restrict access to many areas of the North Cascades in the depths of winter, there are plenty of wondrous destinations to explore on your snowshoes.

Here are some suggestions for both the experienced snow traveler and those new to the delights of winter exploration, listed from east to west (and highest to lowest) along the highway.

Artist Point — Trailhead elevation: 4100’ Accessed from the upper Mt. Baker Ski Area, this 5-mile roundtrip excursion is justifiably famous—and crowded. The journey from the ski area to Artist Point on a fine winter day is as good as it gets if you enjoy big, bedazzling views (and who doesn’t?). The route departs from the uppermost parking lot at the upper lodge, skirts the downhill runs, climbs to spectacular Austin Pass and then ascends to the sinuous spine of Kulshan Ridge. Low avalanche risk generally, but avoid the last switchback below the Ridge’s highest spot, Huntoon Point (which has slid) by heading directly up the steep ridge. Once aloft, the views of Shuksan and Baker (and a hundred others) will knock your gaiters off.

White Salmon Road (#3075) – Trailhead elevation: 3,400’ The White Salmon Road offers a relatively high elevation jaunt, which means a better likelihood of good snow conditions when lower elevations are snow-deprived. The route is accessed from a small parking area at a tight switchback on the Mount Baker Highway, 18 miles east of Glacier, just past milepost 51.

An easy outing—great for beginners—the trail meanders for approximately 2.5 miles with an elevation loss of 300 - 600 feet and no avalanche issues. After about a mile there are gorgeous views of Shuksan and the Upper Nooksack Valley. Unique amongst these routes, the White Salmon Road offers a descent on the way in, necessitating a commensurate climb on the way back. stories & the race|play|experience calendar online.

Hannegan Road (#32) – Trailhead elevation: 2,000’ Located 13.1 miles east of Glacier and one-half mile before the Salmon Ridge Cross Country Ski Area, the Hannegan Road climbs safely for 3.5 miles, gaining 1,100 feet. The first mile is on an easy grade with some classic views of Mt. Shuksan and the usually free-flowing Nooksack River (scenic highlights of the trip), then the road steepens for the last two miles in the trees.

Beyond this point, there is significant avalanche hazard and travel is not recommended. Up to the slide areas, however, the Hannegan road provides the easiest and most accessible snow trail in the Nooksack River Valley.

Twin Lakes Road (#3065) – Trailhead elevation: 2,000’ Located 12.7 miles east of Glacier at the Shuksan Maintenance Shed, the Twin Lakes Road is seven miles long with elevation gain (depending on how far you go) of as much as 3,000’. Parking is along the side of the road—not in the maintenance yard. A steep uphill climb to a magnificent area, the safe route ends three miles before Twin Lakes, at the Yellow Aster Butte trailhead (readily identified thanks to its stalwart outhouse). Beyond here, an extremely dangerous avalanche area is encountered. The road is closed to snowmobiles and the silence is sweet.

Wells Creek Road (#33) – Trailhead elevation: 1,800’ Located seven miles east of Glacier at the Nooksack Falls turnoff, the Wells Creek Road is 12 miles long, gaining up to 2800 feet. Parking is on the highway or near the falls (a short detour offers a view of the often icicle-draped waterfall). The road is closed to vehicles and snowmobiles at Nooksack Falls from November 1 - July 1, making this a great destination for low elevation solitude and wildlife watching. Snow can be questionable here due to the low elevation but a visit in mid-winter when the snowline is sufficiently low offers great scenery and opportunities for snow camping. Caution however: the road crosses a frequent avalanche area three miles in at an old burn area.

Glacier Creek Road (#39) – Trailhead elevation: 1,000’ Located 0.7 miles east of the Glacier Public Service Center just inside the Mt. Baker-Snoqualmie National Forest Boundary, the Glacier Creek Road is 8.5 miles long (measured from the Thompson Creek Bridge) and gains 3,000’. Park along The heartbeat of Cascadia

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the roadside at snowline. One avalanche path crosses the road and runs occasionally. Although this route is popular with snowmobilers, it provides access to a variety of beautiful locales including the

Heliotrope Ridge Trail which is off-limits to machines. Visit in midweek (when the snowmobiles are less numerous) or at the beginning or end of the season (when you can drive further up the road).

Deadhorse Road (#37) – Trailhead elevation: 1,000’

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Located at the beginning of the Glacier Creek Road (#39), the Deadhorse Road snakes upwards for 14 miles, gaining 3,000 feet. Parking is along the side of the road at snow line. The route starts out fairly level along the Nooksack River and then begins a long gradual uphill climb the rest of the way. The trailhead to Skyline Divide is at 13 miles and this trail is an excellent early season destination (when you can drive much of the way up the road) with open slopes and great views. The lower sections of Deadhorse can offer great snowshoeing along the river but adequate snow pack at this elevation has been hard to come by ANW in recent years.

White Salmon Road

Practical Considerations

Dress for Success: Think dry and warm - layers of fleece and wool and Gore-Tex. Carry the ten essentials.

Avoid Dying: Always check avalanche conditions before setting out (www. nwac.us). If you don’t have avy gear and—equally importantly—knowledge of snow conditions, stay out of potential avalanche areas. Seriously.

Be Righteous: If you’re snowshoeing, please don’t walk in ski tracks. It’s extremely poor form and seriously bad karma.

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Shrunken Heads and Globalization An Interview with Lawrence Millman Story by John D’Onofrio

I

first encountered the inspired writing of Lawrence Millman some 25 years ago, when I happened upon a somewhat battered copy of his now-classic Last Places in a used book store. I was instantly smitten.

The book, which chronicles Millman’s journey across the North Atlantic from Norway to Newfoundland following ancient Viking sea routes was a revelation. At the time, Publisher’s Weekly had this to say about Last Places: “Readers who are captivated either by offbeat adventure or by the Far North need look no further.” As a connoisseur of offbeat adventures and a student of the Far North, Last Places was right up my alley.

In the years that followed, I voraciously read anything by Millman that I could get my hands on. I wasn’t alone. Last Places would become a modernday classic, translated over the years into eleven

languages. A Kayak Full of Ghosts, first published in 1987, has never gone out of print. Our Like Will Not Be There Again: Notes from the West of Ireland.—his very first book—received a Pulitzer Prize nomination. Paul Theroux called An Evening Among Headhunters “a wonderful book.” One time Lummiisland resident Annie Dillard calls Millman “a genius.”

Tell us a little about your formative years.

What inspired you to pursue a life of exploration and writing?

I was a prisoner of war in an academic institution and wanted to find a freer, less encumbered life, so I went to live in the West of Ireland, where people lived by the spoken rather than the written word. Likewise, they almost never held meetings to determine when the next meeting would be held. The result: my first book, Our Like Will Not Be There Again: Notes from the West of Ireland.

Millman in Northern Svalbard

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The focus of your writing has been the arctic.

What is it about the north that captured your imagination?

vial of glue for mosquito dope and slathered my face with it.

One of the Inuit with whom I was traveling laughed uproariously and said I looked like a 100-year old elder.

I prefer Nature to people, and in the Arctic there’s more of the former than the latter. Also, the denizens of the Arctic—Inuit, Cree, Gwich’n, etc.—are obliged to live with Nature or perish…unlike, for instance, New Yorkers or Angelenos, who live primarily with gas fumes.

Given the state of our culture—with its growing focus on technology and alienation from the natural world—what advice can you offer to the masses of people for whom nature is becoming an abstraction?

Can you describe your process—taking notes in the field? Research?

I can only offer advice to individuals, not masses. To these individuals, I would say: Form little oases of sanity in the midst of the current Dark Age, perpetuate actual conversation instead of cell phone blather. Get down and dirty with Nature, and then perhaps a thousand years from now our species will seem like something other than a random afterthought of evolution.

I scribble down lots of notes that I subsequently can’t read, so I have to remember what’s happened. Not a problem.

Someone, maybe Jonathan Raban, said, “In the notebook, the story dies, but in the memory, it lives.”

How long to produce a book?

How long does it take to scale a mountain? Every height is different. My last book At the End of the World took three years to write, while my novel Hero Jesse took six months.

The life of a travel writer seems unspeakably glamorous, what many would consider a dream job— getting paid to visit exotic locales. Can you speak to the joys and horrors of such a life?

In your many years of adventurous travel, what kind of changes have you seen in the kind of off-the-map destinations that you visit?

Changes are almost always for the worse. Consider Iceland, where I lived in the early 1980s. Now I hardly see anything typically Icelandic in Iceland. Ancient farmhouses have become guesthouses, pizza parlors are the island’s most popular restaurants, and all the roads are now paved so they’re suitable for rent-a-cars. Globalization has replaced identity.

Sic semper transit gloria mundi!

What is the worst moment that you have experienced in your travels?

Finding myself in the Ecuadorian Amazon without a single book to read—very, very scary!

What is the most gloriously weird moment?

In Foxe Basin in the Canadian Arctic, I once mistook a stories & the race|play|experience calendar online.

Because I’m pretty backward myself. I like to describe myself as a droshky or barouche [horse-drawn buggy] guy rather than an automobile guy. For I don’t own a car, not to mention a cell phone, a microwave, an iPod, a television, etc.

I was forced by a publisher to create a website for myself, but

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First of all, I don’t consider myself a travel writer. I write about places and my experience of them. Travel writers pen their words to attract tourists, whereas I do whatever I can to keep tourists (especially loud American ones constantly fingering their corporate plastic) at a distance. As for horrors, I don’t pursue them, but they seem to happen anyway, perhaps because at some level I know that a trip fraught with disaster is far more interesting to the reader than a trip where everything goes smoothly.

The contrast between the “non-developed” areas that you seek out and our 21st century western world are extreme. Why are you drawn to these seemingly “backward” places?

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I keep forgetting that it exists. And I choose my travel destinations accordingly—if a place doesn’t have a website, I’ll pack my bag and head there.

Where would you like to go that you’ve never been?

Tristan da Cunha, because it’s not yet been globalized. Bulgaria, because I like both the music and the cheese. The New Siberian Islands, because they’re uninhabited. Guinea and Surinam, be-

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cause friends have found some fascinating fungi there. Socotra Island in the Indian Ocean, because of its spectacular flora. And the Akadwessewa Fetish Market in Togo, where you can find shrunken heads (among other things) being sold as religious artifacts.

What do you do when you’re not travelling, researching or writing?

Rather than butt staple myself to some sort of screen, I look for mushrooms.

This returns me to my hunter-gatherer self as well as gives me most of the ideas for my writing, both mushroom-related and non-mushroom-related.

How did you become interested in mycology?

Years ago, my ex showed me a bunch of bright orange mushrooms (jack o’lanterns) growing at the base of a stump, and I had an epiphany. She said I never looked at mushrooms before that incident, and I never looked at anything else after it.

Not exactly Arctic fungi gathering true! For in- Photo by Lene Zachariassen stance, I also look at millipedes…

Of your books, which is your favorite and why?

My favorite of my own books is Northern Latitudes, a collection of prose poems about the North. I put my heart and soul into it and, in order to get it published, I was obliged to call it “prose poems.” But it’s really a series of prose utterances, some lyrical, some vituperative, and some even comic. It was also one of the favorite books of the late Jim Harrison.

Tell us about your forthcoming book, At the End of the World.

The Belcher Islands, Hudson Bay, 1941: a meteor shower inspires one Inuk to proclaim himself God, and another Inuk to proclaim himself Jesus. Anyone who doesn’t believe in them is Satan and therefore killed. But that’s not the whole story. The book also speculates on the various gods of the digital age and how they may be killing our sense of the umwelt—the outside world.

What are some of your favorite books by other writers?

The Tangled Bank, by Robert Pyle —a brilliant combination of natural history and whimsy. The Kingdom of Fungi,

by Jens Petersen—the best book about fungi I know. An African in Greenland,

by Tete-Michel Kpomassie —an ethnographic travel narrative of the first order!

Silent Snow, by Marla Cone—a Rachel Carson-like book about pollution in the Arctic. A Glastonbury Romance by John Cowper Powys—my absolute favorite novel. And anything by Edward Abbey…

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Tourism Commission

John Scurlock All my life I’ve been attracted to aviation, photography and travel in wild, remote regions. Prior to building my plane, a Van’s RV-6, I climbed and backpacked extensively in the North Cascades, but soon realized that I could use the plane as a platform for exploring it photographically and began doing so in late 2002. I became obsessed with that and subsequently, have been fortunate to fly over many of the great western American and Canadian mountain ranges, in all seasons and conditions, with the goal of both documenting them and capturing the magnificence of seldom-seen and little-traveled terrain.

Photography allows me to offer a sample of what’s out there, just beyond the horizon, and I hope viewers find the images as inspirational as the landscapes that I’ve been so privileged to see firsthand from the cockpit.

These images, of winter in the North Cascades, are drawn from both older and more recent flights.

John Scurlock’s stunning coffee-table book, Snow and Spire: Flights to Winter in the North Cascade Range (2011, Wolverine Publishing) is available at local bookstores.

See more of his images at www.pbase.com/nolock.

Clockwise from right: The Wine Spires and the West Peak of Silver Star Mountain at Sunset; Alpenglow on Dome Peak; North Face of American Border Peak; Looking East along the Crest, Glacier Peak Wilderness; Lincoln Peak and Mt. Baker; Mt. Triumph from the South; Sunset on Mt. Buckner; The Golden Horn

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Beyond the Horizon

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Excess is All Y

esterday I went to two holiday feasts in rapid succession, during which I certainly ate at least twice my body weight. Then I came waddling home, made sure the bathroom scale was safely stashed in the closet, turned the mirror to

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the wall and shut off the lights before undressing for bed. I slept long and deeply, and woke feeling as if I’d been hit by a truck.

A very sluggish morning followed, but eventually it began to seem like a good idea that I get some exercise. Recent reports of a bulletproof crust over lots of wet, unconsolidated snow made it seem unlikely I’d find good skiing anywhere this side of Pemberton, but I’d heard someone had broken a nice uptrack on the Twin Lakes Road several days previous. What’s more, I happened to have just purchased a pair of fine old-school backcountry skis, steeply discounted by virtue of their outdated design, and these seemed well-suited to a nice logging road tour.

It was noon by the time I left home, and 1:15 before I departed the trailhead.

Considering that it gets dark around, say, 1:45 this time of year, this didn’t leave me much time to work off yesterday’s excess calories, which I calculated to be in the mid-five-figure range. What’s more, the neatly-set track I’d imagined had been

Story by Mark Harfenist

unspeakably abused in the four days since that earlier report. It had, in fact, been snowed on, rained on, heated up and cooled down, trampled by snowshoers, bootpackers, and dogs, peppered by tree bombs and, on occasion, even skied —before refreezing into a contorted, rock-solid mess.

Nonetheless, I had a good time testing my new skis on the vast variety of snow surfaces offered. About five miles and 2000 vertical feet from the Mt. Baker Highway, I passed the remains of The World’s Most InappropriatelySituated Outhouse (flattened by a massive avalanche right after it was built), where the last of the snowshoers and their dogs had turned back. By this time, the light was beginning to fail, with a few errant rays of sun lighting the clouds pink from beneath and a few soggy flurries falling. It was obvious that I was already overdue to turn around…but of course I kept going. This is the way of it—in skiing as in holiday feasts. Excess is all.

I turned back just shy of the lakes

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around 5000 feet, taking one quick glance at the misty lights of the distant ski area across the Nooksack Valley before skiing the switchbacks down at what seemed a ferocious speed in the half-light. My new skis behaved reasonably, considering the crusted snow and my absolute terror of crashing in the dark. I managed to negotiate the open slide paths, and the piles of avalanche debris, and I made it back to the outhouse remnant by natural light. Finally, re-entering the woods, pitch blackness descended and I had to paw around blindly for the headlamp which lives in the bottom of my ski pack. As soon as I turned it on, the whole world shrunk into its tiny cone of light, with the wheezing noise of my waxless bases almost drowning out my own panting and cursing as I tried to maintain forward progress through hard-frozen postholes, pine needles, piles of unappealing doggie-doo, and the occasional stretch of polished ski tracks. I was not sorry to see the Mt. Baker Highway come into view: no, not sorry at all. My car seat was surprisingly comfortable, the thermos of coffee quite tasty, the music outstanding and the heat oh so luxurious.

And you know what? I was hungry.

ANW Editor’s Note: The World’s Most Inappropriately-Situated Outhouse has since been replaced. And the avalanche danger on the Twin Lakes Road above the Yellow Aster Butte Trailhead can be extreme. Travel beyond this point is not recommended.

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A Journey Home The Skagit from Source to Sea Story by Dallas Betz

A

large drop of rain fell on my leg.

A contemplative moment on Ross Lake Photo by Ryan Tabb

Then another. A deep boom of thunder reverberated through the mountain peaks.

It began to pour.

The rain dripped from the trees and shrubs, cascading onto the ground in rivulets and feeding, right there at our feet, the tiny creek that was the source of the Skagit River. These particular drops of rain would eventually make their way 150 miles down the length of the mighty river. They would pass through Ross, Diablo, and Gorge Lakes and their respective dams and through a tunnel dug two miles through the mountain to Newhalem.

Here the river would reassemble itself in an undammed riverbed, winding its way through protected Wild and Scenic areas, and joining up with the Cascade, Sauk and Baker Rivers before finally making its way through the fertile farmlands of Skagit Valley into Skagit Bay and the Salish Sea. Over the next nine days, I’d be hiking, canoeing, rafting, and sea kayaking that entire stretch (minus the tunnel) and adding on a few more miles at the end to kayak across Padilla Bay to the small town of Bayview where I grew up. My journey, tracing the Skagit from source to sea would be a homecoming of sorts.

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Finding the source of the Skagit was surprisingly easy. The Delmage Ross envisioned a publicly-owned hydroelectric sysCrowsnest Highway in British Columbia follows the river up tem situated on the Skagit River that could produce cheap and to Allison Pass. The drainage on the east side of the pass goes reliable power to the city. Over the next 50 years, Ross made into the Similkameen River, the west side drains into the Skagit. that vision a reality. Today, Ross ‘Lake’ is long and slender, The source was right under our noses in a marsh, out of which stretching 24 miles through the heart of the North Cascades, a tiny stream issued forth, following the once-upon-a-time the humble beginning of the path of the river across the inmighty river. ternational border into southern In spite of the roaring BC. highway behind us, there We loaded our gear into a was a profound sense of incanoe for the next leg of our trip, timacy, witnessing this great paddling the length of the lake. river’s birth.

The wind came up and whitecaps Our first 22 miles on stormed up the lake to greet us. foot followed the path of We hugged the shore and took the river through a forest breaks at each protected point, of dense old growth cedar bracing ourselves for the next The source of the Skagit at Allison Pass groves, arid pine forests, and blast. Thankfully, Photo by Dallas Betz classic stands of Douglas Fir. by late afternoon The river was energetic and the wind had died raw, already showing its muscle. down and we We’d been warned about the prolific black spotted something bear population in these woods. And although in the middle of they rarely make an appearance, there were a the lake, maybe few grizzlies in the area as well. We talked, a half mile away. clapped, wore bear bells, and kept a canister Probably a log. of bear spray at the ready. But we didn’t see a Curiosity drove us single bear on the hike. That would come later to investigate. in the trip.

As we made We spent the first night at a campground our way toward along the river, north of Ross Lake. We ate it, it appeared On the Silver Skagit Road: baking in the sun, covered in dust and well, fished a little, and watched the stars. to change direcswarmed by mosquitoes Photo by Dallas Betz tions. Strange. Yes, In the morning we strapped on our boots clearly, this thing and set off for the lake, covering the remaining 12 miles of dirt was moving. A bird? A deer? A cougar? Holy shit, it’s a bear! A road. Ross Lake is not actually a lake. It’s a reservoir formed by large black bear was making the roughly mile-wide crossing of Ross Dam, the largest of the three dams on the Skagit River. the lake slowly and steadily. We got within a stone’s throw of the In the early 1900’s, Seattle City Light Superintendent James animal, listening to its deep exhalations and feeling its powerful

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strokes in the water. It didn’t acknowledge our presence, but we gave it plenty of distance, knowing that it probably was feeling pretty vulnerable and it wouldn’t take much for it to knock us over. Neither of us felt like swimming with a bear. It was a majestic moment, witnessing this powerful animal determinedly crossing the lake.

The next days were spent paddling down the lake, sometimes on a glassy surface, seduced into a meditative state, quietly soaking up this dreamy setting in the mountains, and sometimes fighting a headwind when every paddle stroke was a struggle against the wind and waves.

On the third day we reached Ross Dam at the end of the lake, hitched a ride on a shuttle truck to the base of the dam at Diablo Lake, where the greenish waters of the Skagit were absorbed into the milky turquoise of Diablo’s other main tributary, Thunder Creek. Paddling was easy in the morning calm and we made good time, rounding the corner into Thunder Arm just as the wind picked up. For the first—and only —time on our trip, we had the wind at our back. We took advantage of it and let the wind do the work, carrying us to where our next shuttle would meet us at Colonial Creek Campground.

From here, the river would parallel The North Cascades Highway, passing through forest, farmland and—increasingly—towns, all the way to its mouth.

This was the section of the river famous for steelhead fishing and bald eagle tours.

Although I had once worked as a river guide near Newhalem, much of this 70mile section of the river was unknown to me. I was eager to start this stretch and see the world I’d grown up in from a different viewpoint.

My wife Jamie picked us up with our 32

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canoe and shuttled us to Goodell Creek Campground in Newhalem, where the river emerges out of the two-mile long tunnel through the mountain at the Gorge Powerhouse. We sorted food and gear, pumped up the raft—our next mode of transportation—and made dinner. As we were finishing dinner, some friends

Bear crossing Ross Lake Photo by Dallas Betz

stopped by our campsite and took us on an adventure to the Gorge Powerhouse at night, where multi-colored lights illuminate the cascades of Ladder Creek Falls.

What a sight! This little-publicized feature revived by Seattle City Light captures a piece of the grandiose history of the once magnificent dam tours. In his day, J.D. Ross was not only a visionary, he was an entertainer, intent on showing the tax-paying citizens of Seattle a good time. A magnificent light show was only part of the scene. There were exotic gardens, extravagant meals, and even a zoo.

He had monkeys placed on an island in Diablo Lake.

Guests would park in Rockport and ride a steam train up to the dam, lavishly fed and entertained the whole time.

Hundreds of people each weekend would fill the bunkhouses. Ross even arranged to have their cars washed! The locomotive that powered the train is now a tourist attraction in Newhalem.

The morning sun filtered a dappled light through the trees as Jamie and I wrestled the raft onto the river. It felt good to feel the pull of the current again >>> Go to AdventuresNW.com

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after the dammed lakes, to reconnect with the river in something like its native form.

The first nine miles of this stretch were familiar from my guiding days.

Most of the same logs, riffles, and rapids were in the same places that they had been five years ago. One of the characteristics of being dam-controlled is that there’s not as big a fluctuation in the river level as there are on undammed watercourses. The highs are not as high, and the lows are not as low. While the rest of the rafting world takes a break as the late summer snow melts taper off, the Skagit draws boaters with its steady flow.

There’s really just one significant rapid on the Skagit.

It goes by various names: Shovelspur, the Portage, and the S-Bends. You hear it before you see it. Jamie held on as I rowed us through the heart of the waves, steering away from the rocks on the right bank, dodging the reversal, and keeping our boat away from the rocks at the bottom of the rapid. We were dumped out into a bubbling pool of flat water at the bottom and spun around as the river tried to figure out where to go next. We were both relieved to have made it through and at the same time wanted to do it again.

After the rapids, the river turned placid, languidly flowing for another couple of miles until we got to the place

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where, as guides, we normally took out.

But this time, we didn’t take out and continued our journey downstream. This marked the beginning of new territory for me.

At Rockport, we said our farewells.

We’d see each other in two days when she would drop off a pair of kayaks, gear, and my paddling partner. Until then, I’d be alone with the river.

small but also connected to something much bigger. The distinction between everything diminishes, all of it part of the same fabric.

The connection began to fade as the day wore on. Hunger and fatigue grew, and the wind picked up, relentlessly this time, making progress difficult. I finally reached the sandbar I’d hoped to camp at. I was wiped out. I pulled up the boat, sat on the sand, and tried to eat, but the wind blew Setting out from the Goodell Creek Boat Launch Photo by Ryan Tabb sand into everything: my eyes, ears, gear, and food.

I tried to use the boat as a windbreak, but could still barely open my eyes with the wind blowing sand everywhere. Eventually I got back into the boat and huddled into a corner, trying to find some protection from the elements. Coyotes sang in the distance.

I woke in the mornThat night was warm, clear and ing soaked with dew, a distinct chill quiet, the water and sky divided by dark in the air. I packed up hastily, eating a mountains and the moon filtered through granola bar for breakfast, and drove the swaying trees, its reflection broken in the boat downstream, keeping an eye out for waves of the river. The leaves whispered the Hamilton boat launch where I would in the wind. I was witnessing an intimate meet my paddling buddy and trade the dance. It was like a waking dream. raft for a pair of kayaks.

The next day I remained in that It took some paring down to fit our dream, losing my “self” to the rhythms of gear into the kayaks. The weather report the water, the trees, the birds. This is why called for hot, dry conditions, so we offI return to natural places: to simultaneloaded most of our clothes, and kept the ously lose myself and find myself. To feel essentials: food, gear, and whiskey.

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I’d expected this section of the river to be calm, flat, and simple, but it wasn’t exactly that. Almost immediately we encountered a small wave train around a bend, followed by a three-way split in the river with logs in every channel. We were in sea kayaks on a river. Long and straight, our boats were great for going long distances efficiently, typically in a straight line. But on the river we were trying to make quick turns and paddle in short bursts. I hadn’t realized how hard it would be to see what is approaching from the water-level view of a kayak compared to the relative birds-eye view from a raft.

Signs of civilization became more frequent. We passed through Sedro-Woolley, then under the Highway 9 bridge. Our destination for the night was a friend’s home in the Skagit farmlands between Sedro-Woolley and Burlington. She had her kids stand on the dike and wave flags so we’d know where to pull out. The river presented

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The heartbeat of Cascadia

its last surprise of the day, breaking up into four channels, all of them choked with log jams. We took the path of least resistance, which necessitated ferrying upstream to an eddy to take out. Hauling our fully-loaded boats up the steep rocky bank represented an exhausting chal-

swimming, and rowing on the river.

We set out our sleeping bags under a pergola alive with creeping vines. The cool late August air had a distinct hint of autumn just around the corner. I slept a deep, dreamless sleep.

Eighteen more miles to go on a river that now flooded me with memories from my childhood, through lush farmland known for its tulips, potatoes, berries, and seeds.

We approached Mount Vernon’s venerable downtown. My dad had worked there since I was born, with an office right on the revetment. The merchandise in the old town shops Almost Home: Sunrise on Swinomish Slough had changed over Photo by Dallas Betz the years, but the buildings were eslenge for us at the end of a long day of sentially the same as they were 40 years paddling. We stumbled up the dike and ago. Unlike me. wearily carried the boats across the fields The river color and texture changed, to her house. An hour later, I was taking and we realized we’d entered the tidal my first shower in a week, shedding the zone. Soon after, we reached a fork in the dirt and sweat accumulated from 135 river. The south fork led through Conway miles of hiking, paddling, camping, then split further into a series of fingers

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understand myself.

The darkness was just beginning to give way to dawn as we pushed off from the bank. On this, my last day on the water, I felt the circle closing. It was time to go home.

The morning was still, the tide was slack, and the water was glassy as we paddled our kayaks across the bay toward Bayview. The sky to the east was a pastel pink, illuminating the mountains that I had passed through on this journey. There was no rush, no urgency. Just us, paddling methodically, lost in our thoughts, absorbed in the magic of the place and the moment.

We neared the beach, the conclusion to this adventure just a few paddle strokes away. I paused, not ready for this journey to end. I looked around, trying to soak it all in, trying to hold onto this sense of deep connection to where my story began, where it was shaped, and where, today, this journey would end. I felt the gravity of it all, a wide-angle perspective on my life, how it all fit together with various generations of my family, and especially the most recent addition, my son. Deep emotions welled up in me as I approached the shore.

We carried our boats from the beach up onto the grass and unloaded our gear.

Family began to show up, wanting to hear all about our adventure. I struggled to figure out how I could describe this trip, how it could possibly be translated into words.

It was only a nine-day trip, but I felt like I’d been to another world.

I saw our white station wagon pull up.

I left the group in mid-discussion, halfrunning to the car. My wife stepped out, immediately walking around to open up the back door. I could see his head in the rear seat, trying to make me out just as I was trying to make him out. She unbuckled and pulled him out. I couldn’t believe how much he’d grown in those nine days.

I strode toward him, picking him up and holding him, overcome and trembling with emotion, tears streaming down my face. I couldn’t let go. The three of us held

onto each other for minutes. Tears, then laughter, then more tears.

I couldn’t help but think about the cycles of life, the stories involved. About my parents, a young couple moving to this place 40 years ago. The stories they brought with them that had shaped me and my siblings. They were in their 70’s now.

Just like the river, the story relentlessly moved forward, carrying me along. From those raindrops at Allison Pass that fed a trickle of a stream at the beginning of my journey, to the wild and powerful energy of the river through the mountains, to the slow and steady contemplative current entering the bay, the river continuing the cycle, over and over, through time.

ANW Dallas Betz’ ambitious and inspired plan to follow the Skagit from source to sea was the winner of our Live Your Adventure contest last year and was financed by a $1000 cash award from realtor Brandon Nelson, himself a world-record paddler.

POETRY FROM THE WILD

Shiver

by James Bertolino She stood there shivering and dampened by the snow.

Facing the forest, which was still a blaze of autumn color, she was unaware of the bones frozen beneath the trees.

But so much of what she’d long believed was now twisted, her heart broken.

Life is like that. We witness vitality, yet know that it is passing, and all too soon we learn to accept our own end being near.

The heartbeat of Cascadia

Photo by John D’Onofrio

that emptied into the river delta. We’d be taking the north fork, through the old hippie art community called Fish Town and emptying out near La Conner.

We rode the receding tide, getting our first whiffs of salty sea air. Although we passed through towns, the Skagit itself was empty of boats. We hadn’t seen another one on the river in two days.

We passed through grassy mudflats and rocky island cliffs and started hearing seabirds. As we made our official entrance into Skagit Bay, a bald eagle witnessed our conclusion to the river portion of the trip.

We passed by quietly, without startling it from its perch.

We took a break on a sandy beach created by the jetty built to keep the shipping channel clear of silt from the river. A narrow opening called the “hole-in-the-wall” allowed fish a pathway to and from the river, and also allowed kayakers a channel through the jetty. We caught it at low tide, so after lunch, we carried our boats through the opening and launched on the other side in what was now clearly salt water, the transition complete.

Yachts paraded up and down the Swinomish Channel. We shrugged off the culture shock and cruised under Rainbow Bridge into La Conner. Past the marina, we found a sandy spot between the channel and the fields in which to roll out our sleeping bags one last time. It was a peaceful evening, and the feeling of home was in my bones. The smells and sounds brought up such strong connections to my childhood. The house where I grew up was now only a couple of miles away.

I thought about the trip, about my upcoming 40th birthday and my own journey to midlife. I thought about being a son—and becoming a father. My son had just turned two, and the experience of fatherhood had created a stronger awareness of my own story; my childhood, my parents and how they showed up for me as a kid, my siblings, the space I grew up in.

Following the Skagit River was a way for me to understand the forces that shaped the world I grew up in, and in the process,

35

THE

WEIGHT TIME OF

A Rescue on Denali Story by Bob Kandiko

August 2015 - Ruth Glacier, Denali National Park, Alaska The Talkeetna Air Taxi scenic flight circles the massive south face of Denali which rises 8,000 feet from its glacial foundations. The plane—with ten passengers on board—drifts over the Matterhorn-like peaks around the Ruth Glacier, then throttles down and lands.

One by one, the passengers climb down the ladder onto the surface of the glacier, shielding their eyes against the blinding glare of the late summer snow pack. One person points up, drawing a line from his memory. He has been here before, almost four decades ago. The other tourists cannot see the youthful zeal of his past in his now middle-aged body. One woman steps aside and moves purposely away from the group. She raises her gaze, whispers a few words, then reaches into her daypack for a plastic vial. The top is removed and with a determined gesture, she flings the ashes into the blue sky.

The small cloud hangs in the air for an eternal moment before settling onto the snow. Thirty-five years ago those could have been my ashes drifting on to this same glacier. Three of us embrace her as silence envelopes the scene. There must be a story here: In fact there are four, but one can no longer be told. Mine can.

Photo by Alan Sanders

May, 1980 - Talkeetna, Alaska Mt. McKinley’s climbing season 36

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is ramping up. Climbers from a dozen countries unload boxes and duffels, skis and snowshoes, from the luggage car of the Alaska Railroad and move it onto the pickup trucks adorned with flight service logos. The muddy main street of Talkeetna is full of revelers celebrating Alaska Days. Bearded sourdoughs wear foxtail hats as they devour caribou sausages, moose burgers, and mountain blueberry pie. The weather has been dismal for days so frustration hangs in every conversation. Many in the crowd have testosterone-driven plans and the copious alcohol consumption fuels wild-eyed descriptions of the ambitious routes on their agendas. This is a special type of gold rush with some willing to risk their lives for their dreams.

It’s 1980 and Talkeetna is ground zero for American alpinism and I want to be part of that scene. After two years of graduate school and no identified career, I am content— no I’m thrilled—to be living in a VW camper van full of my dirt-bag gear and climbing magazines. A recent convert to climbing, I had just two summer seasons under my belt, but those months in the Canadian Rockies, Selkirks, and St. Elias Ranges had given me enough successes that I was hungry for the bigger stage. The best opportunity was to talk my way onto another trip, so I had become the third, joining Paul and Carl. As with many groups of three, there is an odd person, and that was me.

In Talkeetna, time loses its significance. This far north, true darkness never really comes and the Fairview Tavern never really closes. Then, at 2 a.m. the clouds thin, revealing the rose-tinted hue of sunrise striking the summit of the highest peak in North America. The drinking suddenly stops. Today the glacier flights will go. It is time for the gold rush to begin.

May, 1980 - Ruth Glacier, Denali National Park, Alaska The flight into the Alaska Range from Talkeetna offered views that transitioned quickly from treeless bogs to jagged granite peaks rising out of rivers of ice, but that scenery was barely visible from my cramped position wedged between duffels in the rear of the Cessna. Soon we were decelerating as the plane dropped altitude and then bumped down onto the glacier. I almost fell onto my knees in awe as I gawked at the dozen peaks that soared a vertical mile out of the ice. Each single peak was more magnificent and daunting than any I had previously seen. We had a month to climb them all! This would be Nirvana.

But Nirvana had to wait, as one low pressure system after another hurled clouds laden with wet snow against the peaks. Elation turned to gloom as endless card games became our mental strategy to alleviate the boredom of stories & the race|play|experience calendar online.

tent life in inclement weather. After 12 days spent mostly in damp, clammy sleeping bags listening to wind and rain and thundering avalanches, my partners announced they were giving up and heading for Kodiak Island to go fishing. I was shattered. With no reason to head home, and—in truth—no home to head to, I resorted to visiting other tents on the glacier in hopes of finding a new climbing partner. As luck would have it, the first tent held Mike Helms, an outdoor gear designer and guide from Olympia, Wa. His two friends had also decided to fly out early. The three of them had planned to climb McKinley and Mike was upset about relinquishing that goal. A brief introduction ensued, climbing skills and history were shared, an exchange of my single boots for his partner’s double boots (same size!), and I was packing my gear to join Mike for an attempt of the highest peak in North America! Climbing, like politics, makes for strange bedfellows.

By noon Mike and I had relocated to the crowded landing strip on the Kahiltna Glacier which was bustling with a hundred climbers sorting gear for their two- to fourweek ascents of Denali. Mike had organized the gear and food already, so after an early dinner, we roped up to start the 10-mile trudge towards the base of McKinley. With loaded packs and each of us dragging a sled full of more gear, we were carrying all we would need for 12 days. At 11 p.m., we set up our tiny tent as the sun cast its alpenglow on the highest peaks.

From this camp our route would deviate from the normal climber’s route, which ascended the less technical West Buttress. Our objective, the Cassin Ridge, was considered one of the premier technical climbs in North America. Our strategy was to move in one push, carrying everything for the climb, up 8,000 feet of steep ice and granite rock cliffs and then descend via the standard West Buttress Route.

This “alpine style” ascent of the Cassin Ridge had probably only been done fewer than a dozen times before 1980, and as “journeymen” or average climbers, we were setting our goals to the highest standard. To attempt such a route with a total stranger might seem like a reckless decision, but to Mike and myself, it was simply a challenge not be missed.

On our approach up to our route we crossed paths with two climbers who had even loftier ambitions. Jack Roberts and Simon McCartney were attempting to ascend the unclimbed mile-high wall on the Southwest Face.

With climbing resumes that included the North Face of the Eiger in winter, ascents of El Cap’s walls in Yosemite, and first ascents of audacious and dangerous faces in the Alps and the Alaska Range, they were the climbers that we aspired to be. They were the elite. Their cockiness and charisma were infectious. Mike and I were truly awed to be in the company of such maestros. race | play | experience

37

Three days later with clearing weather, the four of us left the glacier campsite at 12,000 feet with a powerful mixture of exhilaration and apprehension. We carried fuel and freeze-dried food for eight days, along with clothing, sleeping bags, a tent, and our climbing gear. The weight of the pack seemed insignificant compared to the burden of the task in front of us. As I started up the first steep ice gully, I took a moment to turn and see Jack and Simon’s footsteps leading to the base of their daunting objective. My discerning eye picked out their tiny forms in the first cliff band. Then I returned my upward gaze towards the 1000 feet of shiny blue ice that was our first day’s challenge.

For eight days we forged a path up the Cassin Ridge. More severe than we had anticipated, the route challenged us in every aspect with its steep ice and vertical steps up the granite cliffs. After an exhausting day of 12 hours of climbing we were fortunate to find a narrow ledge on which to erect our tent. It took another few hours to melt snow for drinking water and to boil our dinners. Before succumbing to much needed sleep, we silently struggled with the demons of doubt that arose like monsters in the closet. There was no retreat in our plan. I laid awake, literally quivering with fear as gusts of wind thrashed the single layer of fabric

comprising our shelter.

Our ascent rate slowed considerably as I struggled to ad-

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Mike Helms atop Cassin Ridge Photo by Bob Kandiko

just to the altitude. My brain, starved for oxygen, was functioning on a several second delay mode. When tying my boots, I first had to think of grabbing the laces, then think of crossing them, then think of pulling them. We decided to take an unscheduled rest day to allow time for me to acclimatize. The following day we made a miraculous discovery of two gallons of cooking gas stashed from an earlier expedition, a welcome

replenishment of our dwindling supply.

None of these circumstances were unusual for alpinists on difficult routes. Both Mike and I had read inspirational accounts of such climbs but struggling in the reality of such tenuous circumstances was vastly different than reading articles in glossy magazines.

With calm winds and an azure blue sky overhead, we put on all our clothes and departed our campsite, just a tiny platform chiseled on the ridge crest at 18,300 feet. We were tentative as we took our first steps towards the summit, still 2000 feet above us. The temperature was 40 below zero but the sun offered an illusion of warmth. The view stretched out over the surrounding peaks to the distant Gulf of Alaska. The angle of the snow slope was moderate and I kicked a step into the crusty surface, rested, inhaled, exhaled, then kicked another step. This grueling process was repeated a thousand times.

My altimeter watch recorded an elevation of 19,000 feet. Step, inhale ...

Suddenly my Zen-like mental state was shattered by a human voice. Mike was behind me, his head bowed in

exhaustion. I looked upslope and was amazed to see a lone figure jumping and shouting beside a tent. It took us a painfully long 30 minutes of kicking steps to finally reach Jack Roberts and to learn that his climbing partner Simon was semi-conscious in the tent, disabled by what was later diagnosed as cerebral edema. This swelling of the tissues of the brain is caused by rapid ascent in altitude and is worsened with dehydration.

They had been successful in completing their very difficult climb, but had run out of fuel and subsequently had no way to melt snow for much-needed water.

Jack’s toes were black with frostbite and they had not eaten in days. The four of us were 800 vertical feet below the summit on the remote south face with no radio and only two meager freeze dried dinners between us.

What took place in the next 20 minutes changed the lives of four men.

A decision had to be made. One climber was disabled, one had frostbite, the other two were weakened by their arduous ascent.

Mental cognition was less than ideal as a result of the altitude and exhaustion, but in those 20 minutes, we worked out what seemed to be our best option.

Mike had been on the West Buttress route previously so he had knowledge of the way down. There would certainly be

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other climbers on that route. Jack had knowledge of technical rescue systems and his frostbite was severe. He proposed that Mike and he would ascend over the top, descend until they encountered other climbers, retrace their steps to the ridge above to lower ropes to us and pull us over the top! Mike did not want to split away from me, but I volunteered to stay Looking south from camp at 16,000 feet Photo by Bob Kandiko with Simon. Desperate times call for desperate measures. I moved into the tent with Simon, took all the fuel and meager scraps of food, gave Jack a short note to my mother, and then watched them kick steps upward. More than three decades later Mike would recall that when he looked back at us, he thought that he would never see us again. A half hour later they were out of sight and their footsteps had been filled with falling snow.

August, 2012 - Bellingham, WA. I hit the message button on the phone. Karen and I had

been trekking in Austria for a month and there were 12 messages waiting when we walked into our kitchen. “Hello. Is this the Bob Kandiko who saved me on Mt. McKinley in 1980? This is Simon McCartney. Please call this number. I need to talk with you.”

Thirty-four years had passed since I said goodbye to Simon in a hospital room in Anchorage, his arm in a cast, his face black and blue. In the adjacent bed was Jack Roberts with gauze bandages over his feet. Both were flirting with the nurses. Mike was absent from the scene.

I called the number that Simon left, reaching a Hong Kong residence.

A distinctive British accent answered.

The three-plus decades that had passed since that hospital room in Anchorage were condensed into a tearful—at times sobbing—flood of memories. He recalled the events of 1980 as if they were yesterday, remembered losing his ability to move

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as he fell victim to the cerebral edema. He remembered Jack being willing to leave him, alone in the tent, to head up by himself. He was haunted by the memory of his helplessness, slipping in and out of consciousness as I nursed him with warm fluids. But most of all, he remembered the 48 hours that we waited for Mike and Jack to return with the ropes, days of gnawing hunger and the growing realization that no one was coming to rescue us.

May, 1980 - Cassin Ridge, Denali, 19,500 feet The two days that Simon and I waited on Cassin Ridge were agonizing as the reality of our situation sunk in. We were completely isolated Bob and Simon on the descent on the steepest and Photo by Bob Kandiko most remote face of the highest peak in North America.

Simon was incapacitated. We had no food.

Finally, realizing that our only chance of survival was to make an attempt to evacuate ourselves, we suited up to attempt the final ascent to the summit ridge.

I carried most of the weight and kicked steps but Simon simply dropped to his knees unable to stand upright due to his cerebral edema. I jerked tight on the rope attempting to haul him uphill but he collapsed, in tears. The thought of untying the rope and heading up alone crossed my mind but I could not leave Simon to die. Now our only choice was the unthinkable, to descend the length of Cassin Ridge without food and with no gear except a single rope.

That descent started with Simon sliding on the snow as I tethered him with the rope. We spent six grueling days with increasingly weak bodies plunge stepping, rappelling, and at times crawling ever downward.

On the third day, we heard the unmistakable sound of an airplane overhead and glimpsed the plane through the clouds.

Hearing and seeing the plane at this elevation raised our hopes that our position was known and with renewed optimism I stamped out the word “HELP” in six foot stories & the race|play|experience calendar online.

Denali’s South Face: Simon’s camps in blue, Bob’s in red Photo by Bob Kandiko

high letters in the snow and positioned the climbing rope in an ‘X’ to mark a possible landing spot for a rescue helicopter. I knew from previous reports that the Army Chinook helicopters had performed rescues at similar elevations in prior years. This location was one of the few sites on the ridge where a helicopter might be able to land so I did not want to descend further. In clear skies and calm winds we waited. Minutes turned into hours as we waited and waited, longing to hear the throb of an approaching helicopter.

As evening approached, our enthusiasm evaporated and we set the tent up, crawled into our cold bags, and without words spoken, accepted that our ordeal was not to end with a quick exit. Tonight would be another without food.

In the morning, we continued down the steepest section of the Cassin Ridge. By now, the lack of food and extreme exertion had caused our urine to become a rust-orange color. At one point we discovered used tea bags in the snow at the site of an

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41

old campsite and consumed them as if they were Thanksgiving dinner. We even resorted to trying “toothpaste soup”! But we never lost hope. Giving up was not an option. Then an even bigger miracle than the tea bags: we found two coils of climbing ropes cached on a ledge. These ropes probably saved our lives, enabling us to rappel down places that we could not down climb. Still, we grew weaker and weaker—except for the tea bags and toothpaste, we had eaten nothing for eight days.

Then, when we were totally spent, literally at the end of our rope, four climbers from Pennsylvania appeared like a fata morgana in the snow. They came to our aid, shared their food and tent with us and assisted us down the lower technical section, thereby sacrificing their own summit opportunity. As we reached the main glacier, Simon and I, barely able to walk by now, slipped and tumbled over an unseen ice cliff. Simon fell 50 feet, plunging into a crevasse,

breaking his wrist and sustaining a concussion. Instead of walking down the remainder of the glacier, he was loaded into a rescue toboggan for an all-night

flew off the glacier I talked with four climbers who had just arrived and were excited to be heading up the Cassin Ridge. I was to learn later that summer that they were never seen again, probably victims of an avalanche.

August, 2012 - Bellingham, WA.

Simon in the sled

Photo by Bob Kandiko

sledge to the airstrip where he was flown directly to the Anchorage hospital.

Ironically and sadly, just before I

The phone conversation with Simon brought these memories to life with a vividness that startled me. It had all happened such a long time ago. So much water under the bridge. We talked about my decision to stick with him instead of untying the rope between us and giving in to the most primitive instincts to survive. His voice cracks as he recalls being unable to stand and having to slide and be lowered as we began our desperate descent. We laugh at our youthful blinders that enabled us to look forward with optimism, imagining what we would do when we got off the mountain instead of giving in to despair. We laugh at our final attempt to trudge down the glacier

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only to suffer the fall that led to Simon’s Simon told me that after that seatoboggan ride. son on Denali he had quit climbing cold Simon filled in the blanks in the stoturkey, fearing the trajectory he was on ry, telling me about Jack and Mike’s epic descent after they Simon and Bob on left us. A storm had forced Denali: 2015, 1980 them into a hurried campsite where they held the tent down throughout the first night fully dressed, convinced the tent would be shredded by the gale. Further down the Photo by Mike Pantilich ridge they passed two dead climbers who had apparently stopped out of exhaustion and never continued.

The second night they encountered climbers with a radio, but the weather conditions were so bad that they couldn’t get it to work.

It wasn’t until the third day that radio contact with Park Headquarters had been established and a reconnaissance Photo by Karen Neubauer flight was made, but by then we had already started down.

The plane had spotted us on Cassin would certainly lead to dying in the Ridge but unbeknownst to us, the Army mountains. He had lost track of Jack, Chinook helicopters that I had been who had continued to climb until his waiting for had all been grounded due to death in 2011, the result of an ice climbmechanical problems. Our position high ing accident. The climbing world had on the isolated ridge made rescue imposmourned Jack’s passing and climbing sible without the choppers. blogs buzzed with questions about his Mike later described that the long-lost partner who had disappeared knowledge that he had been unable to from the climbing scene. Simon had rescue us from the top of Cassin Ridge eventually been located, obviously too had been a “knife twisting in his heart.” late to reconcile with the partner who

had left him on Cassin Ridge.

But Jack’s death had served to unlock the long-buried memories of what had happened those many years before and Simon had emerged like a phoenix, reconnecting with his youthful passion and obsession with climbing. He learned that there was widespread skepticism regarding the veracity of the audacious Alaska climbs that he and Jack had accomplished together. I was his one direct connection to that pivotal period and he needed to talk. By the end of our intense conversation he had defined his mission: He would write a book to recount - and honor - the emotional four years spent climbing with Jack.

August 2015 - Ruth Glacier, Denali National Park, Alaska Simon, Pam Roberts (Jack’s widow),

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my wife Karen Neubauer, and myself buckle the seatbelts in the Cessna for a second, private flight over the Alaska Range. The lighting casts long shadows as we cruise over the Ruth Glacier and circle to 14,000 feet. The entire south face of Denali fills our view. It is a presence.

Unlike the earlier flight, not a word is spoken as the enormity of the mountain and of our history passes in front of the plane. Simon and I can pick out exact locations of camps and even individual difficult pitches. No one alive is on the mountain this late in the season. We can only imagine the spirits of those who did not return from their climbs. Only the drone of the engine breaks the silence.

Afterword Mike Helms was located by Pam Roberts in October, 2015. He is a retired law enforcement officer in Snohomish County. The decision made high on Denali and the epic descent on both sides of the mountain left him an emotion-

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ally wounded man. The passing of time and reconciling with those involved have healed that wound. On February 27th, 2016, Mike Helms and Bob Kandiko were honored in Washington, D.C. at the American Alpine Clubs Annual banquet.

They received the David A. Sowles Award for “Unselfish Devotion to Imperiled Climbers”. Awarded only 45 times since 1981, it is the highest honor given by the club for heroic action for others while sacrificing their climbing objective.

Simon McCartney did write his book.

The Bond was published last month by Mountaineers Books and has been shortlisted for the Boardman/Tasker award for mountaineering literature. It has also received the Mountaineering Non-Fiction Award at the Banff Mountain Film and ANW Book Festival.

Bob Kandiko will be presenting the story of his rescue on Denali at Backcountry Essentials, 214 W. Holly St. in Bellingham on Thursday, December 15. Doors open at 7 p.m., admission is free and all are welcome.

The art of nature

eARTh

Shirley Erickson Connections Made of Glass

I’m inspired by watching birds fly in formation and amazed at how connected they must be to each other to be able to all change directions at the same time. I ask myself how connected I am to the “bird” next to me. I am preaching about connection, but I live in that little glass house. I am enthralled by the world around me, by the oppositions between nature and man. Each sculpture is a piece in a puzzle that is my life; my fantasies, desires, fears and revelations. My work helps me continue to ask the questions.

Imagination is the answer.

(360) 223-2501 icleanwhatcom.com Serving Whatcom County 44

The heartbeat of Cascadia

>>> Go to AdventuresNW.com

to read ANW

OUTDOOR RECREATION

SUMMIT&EXPO Bellingham, WA

SUMMIT

Friday, February 24th 9:00am - 5:00pm

Recreation industry professionals sharing ways to grow and promote Washington State’s flourishing recreation economy.

2017 Keynote Speakers:

Jon Snyder - Governor’s Policy Advisor on Outdoor Recreation Cailin O’Brien-Feeney - Outdoor Industry Association

BASECAMP

Friday, February 24th 7:00pm - 9:00pm

An exclusive networking event for Summit attendees and EXPO Exhibitors.

Register to attend the Summit and to exhibit at the EXPO at RecreationNorthwest.org

EXPO

Saturday, February 25th 1:00pm - 6:00pm

Bellingham Cruise Terminal Explore Washington’s outdoor recreation opportunities to find new ways to get outside and play.

Demos & Prizes

Free to the Public

Elevation: The Art of Cascadia A passionate celebration of the northwest landscape Throughout the month of February beginning with the Gala, Friday February 3rd Chuckanut Radio Hour Featuring Leif Whittaker, My Old Man and the Mountain Tuesday, February 28th

Connect with us!

#RNWexpo

Thank you to our Sponsors!

stories & the race|play|experience calendar online.

The heartbeat of Cascadia

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Cascadia Gear:

Essentials for your next Adventure Patagonia Capilene Thermal Weight Balaclava

I like my balaclavas simple, warm and light. Patagonia’s Capilene® Thermal Weight Balaclava hits all those marks and is breathable to boot. At 1.2 ounces, you’ll forget you have it along—until the temperature drops. It’s soft and comfortable and can be worn above your mouth or below your chin. It’s thin enough for easy layering and the fabric is partially recycled and bluesign® approved (manufactured under strict guidelines that prioritize environmental and worker-health). And it’s made by Patagonia so it’ll last for years and years.

More info: www.patagonia.com

Rhino Rack Zenith Cargo Box 400L

The folks at Rhino Rack are committed to the notion that you can take it with you. This Australian company has been designing a wide array of roof racks, luggage boxes, bike carriers, kayak carriers, ski carriers, and more since 1992. The Zenith Cargo Box 400L is a cargo carrier that mounts on the company’s proprietary bar and leg combinations designed to fit on most vehicles. Made of tough ABS/ASA composites, the 400L anchors to the car’s roof with an easy-to-clamp but rock-solid mounting system that feels completely bomb-proof and has a capacity of 400 liters. It opens on both sides to provide maximum access to your gear and its streamlined design offers an aerodynamic profile to reduce wind drag.

The locking mechanism is a bit finicky but once closed provides security for the contents.

More info: www.rhinorack.com

Stretch.

Breathe.

Relax.

“Susan’s classes are the best!

She has an uncanny ability to support and encourage every student in her class, regardless of ability.”

- Gary M.

Yoga with

Susan D’Onofrio

Toad&Co Aerium Woman’s Pullover

The Aerium™ Woman’s Pullover from Toad&Co® is a different kind of animal.

Versatility is built-in: It is equally suited for around town or a day spent cross-country skiing. The Aerium Pullover’s longer length makes it toasty warm and perfect for as a cover-up for yoga pants or leggings. It’s great in the outdoors—water resistant (without being stiff), breathable and super stretchy. It even packs up into its own pocket for portability.

More info: www.toadandco.com

Arcyterx RHO AR Men’s Bottom Base Layer Made of a combination of Polartec® Power Stretch® polyester and elastane, the RHO AR base layer from Arc’teryx delivers amazing lightweight warmth and durability for cold weather activities. Weighing in at only 7.8 ounces, the RHO AR hugs the pelvis and legs, providing complete contact—and warmth—against your skin. It’s moisture-wicking, breathable and quick-drying, perfect for winter hiking, snowshoeing and camping. With an exceedingly soft hand, this base layer is wonderfully comfortable during extended trips when chafing can sometimes be an issue.

More info: www.arcteryx.com

Gear Spotlight: New Bindings Blur the Lines

by Chris Gerston Let’s muddy some waters with three new bindings to consider this winter: Marker’s Griffon 13 ID, Atomic’s Warden 13, and Marker’s Kingpin 13.

These bindings all blur some different lines between traditional alpine and backcountry skiing. Maybe that’s because of the interest the classic alpine companies have in moving into the backcountry.

The Griffon ID is the best-selling binding in the U.S., and now it works with every boot out there—alpine, WTR, and rockered AT boots. BAM! That’s gonna help keep it on top. It’s lighter than the Warden for intermediate-advanced skiers who want the comfort of an AT-esque boot but plan to ski inbounds. This boot solves ye old battle between the obsolete Beta and VHS. The Atomic is pretty much the same: same price, same ability to fit all ski boots, same durability, but it weighs 10 ounces more, and arguably has a tiny edge over the Griffin in the power department for high-speed carving.

Lastly, there is the Kingpin. Have I told you about the Kingpin yet? I seem to find myself talking about the Kingpin a lot. It’s changed skiing on tech bindings for me, which I have to admit, is kind of appealing due to how much more efficient they are in the backcountry. But whereas the first two bindings muddied the idea that alpine bindings were only compatible with alpine boots, the Kingpin challenges the prohibition on using backcountry bindings inbounds. The alpine heel piece is the difference here, and at 3 pounds, 6 ounces, it’s still light enough to justify on long tours—mostly because of how much better it skis down. In the end, that’s pretty much the reason why I go to the mountain top.

Chris Gerston owns Backcountry Essentials, an outdoor specialty shop located at 214 W. Holly in Bellingham, WA.

8 Petals Yoga Studio

1317 Commercial St. #203 • Bellingham, WA

www.whatcomyoga.com for class info 46

The heartbeat of Cascadia

Atomic Warden 13 Check out more gear reviews by Chris Gerston at AdventuresNW.com

Race I Play I Experience

25 January 2017 - 3 June 2017

JANUARY 2017 >>> Sunday, 8 January RUN Lake Samish Runs––Lake Samish Lodge, 10:00 am – 2:00 pm.

Welcome to the 41st Annual Lake Samish Runs. This year’s race will take place on Sunday January 8th, 2017. The 13.1 mile race will start at 10:00 AM & the 6.5 mile race will start at 10:15 AM. Online registration for this event will open Monday, November 7th, 2016 & close January 5th, 2017 at 11:59 PM, three days before the race. This race is limited to 300 participants.

More details at http://gbrc.net

FEBRUARY 2017 >>> Saturday, 11 February RUN Two for the Road 5K Run––Whatcom Falls Park, 10:00 am – 12:00 pm. Two for the road is a 5K race that takes place in Whatcom Falls Park.

You can run solo or with a partner (team must finish together) There will be ribbons for the top 4 in these (8) categories: Male and female solo runners, stroller (solo), 2 guys, 2 girls, guy/girl, siblings/cousins, and parent/child. We will have as many prizes as we can award.

Visit AdventuresNW.com for complete listings of Outdoor events throughout 2017

Friday, 24 February SPECIAL Outdoor Recreation Summit ––Settlemeyer Hall, 9:00 am – 5:00 pm. Industry Professionals – Join your fellow retailers, manufacturers, event & race promoters, policy makers and stewardship organizations to explore and share ways to grow and promote Washington State’s flourishing recreation economy.

Saturday, 25 February SPECIAL Recreation Northwest EXPO––Bellingham Cruise Terminal, 11:00 am – 4:00 pm. The Recreation Northwest EXPO is your chance to connect with the active outdoor community. Saturday, February 25th in Bellingham, Washington, the EXPO is free and open to the public. Attendees can take advantage of one-on-one time with representatives from local and regional events and races, as well as bike and running shops, outfitters, outdoor activity clubs, stewardship organizations, sports health professionals and outdoor media companies.

track trails in Lake Padden Park in Bellingham. This race is unique in offering some of the muddy conditions and challenging hill climbs usually only found in ultra runs. If you like trails, mud, and hills, give this run a try.

Saturday, 11 March RUN Runnin’ O’ the Green–– Boundary Bay Bistro, 10:00 am – 11:00 am. Celebrate St. Patrick’s Day with 1000 of your best friends! Walk or Run your choice of a 5K or 5-mile course.

Come in costume or in your speediest running attire to set a record in this chip timed event. Post walk/run settle into the Boundary Bay Garden to enjoy some celtic mayhem with Maggie’s Fury followed by the Bellingham St. Patrick’s Day Parade at noon. Bonus 8 & younger are free (no shirt/no time).

MAY 2017 >>> Sunday, 7 May

MARCH 2017 >>> Sunday, 5 March RUN Padden Mudfest––Lake Padden Park, 10:00 am – 12:00 pm.

The Padden Mudfest is a 6 mile trail race taking place on wooded single

RUN Lilac Bloomsday Run––Spokane, 9:00 am – 1:30 pm. One of North America’s classic road races, and one of the largest road races in the nation. In its 40-year history over a million-and-a-half runners, joggers and walkers have crossed the finish line. Its Olympic caliber field has included many of the sport’s biggest

names. Join thousands of citizen runners as they navigate a course that weaves back and forth across the Spokane River gorge before finishing above the falls in downtown Spokane.

Saturday, 13 May SPECIAL Kulshan Quest Adventure Race––7:00 am – 7:00 pm. Your local adventure race! At Kulshan Quest Adventure Race you are given maps with checkpoints identified 30 minutes before the start. It’s up to you and your team to decide the routes you take. Try the Recreation (4-6 hour) course that includes mountain biking and trekking.

Seasoned or adventurous thrill-seekers try the Expert (8-12 hour) course for kayaking in addition to mountain biking and trekking.

JUNE 2017 >>> Saturday, 3 June CYCLE Apple Century Bike Ride, Sponsored by Wenatchee Sunrise Rotary Club––Apple Century Bike Ride, 7:00 am – 5:00 pm. 30th Annual Apple Century Bike Ride, Saturday, June 3. Always the first Saturday of June. Scenic ride along the Wenatchee River

ANNUAL MEMBERSHIP FEE: • • • • •

Single: $30 Couple: $40 Family: $50 Youth (18 & under): $10 Senior (65+): 10

MEMBERSHIP BENEFITS: • 10 Free Races per Year • 10% Discount at Bbay Running & Fairhaven Runners • Track Workouts & Group Runs

CONNECTING RUNNERS. BUILDING COMMUNITY. GIVING BACK. | www.gbrc.net |

501(c)3 race | play | experience

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race I play I experience

3 June 2017 (cont.) - 17 September 2017 through fruit orchards and vineyards to Lake Wenatchee. Ride fest includes local brews; delicious pasta lunch at Pybus Market. Pit stops feature tasty treats. Fully supported ride with sag wagons. 50 and 25 mile routes as well.

Sponsored by Wenatchee Sunrise Rotary Club. Applebikeride.com.

Monday, 12 June RUN All Comers Track & Field––Civic Field, 6:00 pm – 9:00 pm. All the cool parents are taking their kids to the Monday night track meets. No photo album is complete without a few shots of junior racing around the track or hurling a plastic “javelin”. Perfect for kids between the ages of 2ish on up through the adult and into the senior divisions. The events are as competitive as you make them, don’t let the 20 years since your last track meet deter you from participating.

Saturday, 17 June CYCLE CHAFE 150––CHAFE 150, 8:00 am. The CHAFE 150 begins in Sandpoint, Idaho, the “Most Beautiful Small Town in the USA,” and follows a

loop around the Cabinet Mountains of Idaho and Montana with gorgeous lake and river valleys. Although the route’s 150 miles is a challenging distance, it has no mountain passes or long sustained climbs, encompassing one upriver leg, two downriver legs and one huge lake. 80 and 30 miles routes available. Supports local children on the Autism Spectrum.

AUGUST 2017 >>> Sunday, 27 August RUN Run The Rock Marathon, Half and 8k––Run The Rock, 7:00 am – 1:00 pm. Scenic marathon on challenging course on Texada Island, BC.

SEPTEMBER 2017 >>> Sunday, 17 September CYCLE Cycle the WAVE––Bellevue College, 7:00 am – 4:00 pm. Join 1000+ other women in experiencing the magic an all women’s bike ride has to offer. 4 Routes are offered: 12, 30, 45 & 70 miles to accommodate all level of

April 22nd, 2017

Presented by:

Benefitting the Behind The Badge Foundation

360.676.1977 • www.lithtexnw.com

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race | play | experience

>>> VIew or download even MORE Race|Play|Experience

race I play I experience

17 September 2017 (cont.)

Celebrate the season

riders. For those that don’t ride we have a 5.8km walk through beautiful park lands in Bellevue. All riders and walkers are pampered with unique and tasty food at our rest stops and our finish line festival.

ANW

37th Annual

FIND Adventures NW is available free at hundreds of

locations region-wide: throughout Whatcom, Skagit, San Juan, and Island counties, at select spots in Snohomish, King, and Pierce counties, and in Leavenworth, the Methow Valley, Spokane, and Wenatchee. The magazine is also available at all REI locations in Washington and Oregon as well as at numerous locations in the Vancouver, BC metro area and through races and events and at area visitor centers.

Over 100 local artists November 18 to December 24, 2016

SUBSCRIBE Receive Adventures NW via mail anywhere

in the US or Canada. Visit AdventuresNW.com/subscribe for subscription info.

ADVERTISE Let Adventures NW magazine help you

reach a diverse, receptive audience throughout the Pacific Northwest, and be part of one of the most valued and engaging publications in the region. Info is at AdventuresNW. com/advertise or by writing to ads @ AdventuresNW.com.

Where 4145 Meridian Street, Bellingham Same location as last year next to the Burlington Store.

Open 7 days a week, 10 am – 7 pm Closed Thanksgiving Day and at 3 pm on December 24

CONTRIBUTE Adventures NW welcomes original article

queries—including feature stories, expert advice, photo essays, the Next Adventures shot, etc. For information: AdventuresNW.com/contribute.

EVENTS Have your outdoor-related event, race or public

outing listed in the quarterly Race|Play|Experience calendar and in our comprehensive on-line version. Visit AdventuresNW.com/submit-your-event to post events or contact ads @ AdventuresNW.com for details.

ADVENTURES NW>>> magazine

Saturday and Sunday live music, free kids activities and more!

Information visit alliedarts.org or call 360.676.8548

Join us on an

Alaska Photography Cruise to Glacier Bay

May 22-29, 2017 • Intensive, In-depth workshop on digital shooting, editing and post-processing • Take Your Photography to the Next Level in one of Planet Earth’s Most Amazing Places • May 22-29, 2017 aboard the M.V. David B, sailing from Juneau, AK. • This trip is limited to six passengers The M.V. David B accesses areas that standard cruise ships cannot go.

John D’Onofrio, editor/publisher Adventures NW Magazine

Alan Sanders, digital imaging specialist/ photography instructor, Whatcom Community College

I n f o & Re g is t r a t i o n: n o r t h w e s t n a v i g a t i o n.c o m reservations@northwestnavigation.com

event listings at AdventuresNW.com

race | play | experience

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the

Next

Adventure

Dropping In photo by GRANT GUNDERSON Seward, Alaska is a pretty amazing place to ski. I can’t think of anyplace else that compares to it with the possible exception of the fjords in Norway, as you are able to ski some really beautiful lines all the way down to the ocean. On this trip we got really lucky with nearly three weeks of perfect cold and clear weather with very little wind, which kept the snow in perfect shape. This shot is of Markus Eder and Richard Permin soaking up the views before dropping in.

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The heartbeat of Cascadia

Across the globe. Across the country.

Across the kitchen table.

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As a firm providing wealth management services to clients, we offer both investment advisory and brokerage services. These services are separate and distinct, differ in material ways and are governed by different laws and separate contracts. For more information on the distinctions between our brokerage and investment advisory services, please speak with your Financial Advisor or visit our website at ubs.com/ workingwithus. Neither UBS Financial Services Inc. nor any of its employees provides legal or tax advice. You should consult with your personal legal or tax advisor regarding your personal circumstances.

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