Elderberry Canyon Trail

Elderberry Canyon, located in the Libby Creek drainage, has no elderberries. At least, from what I observed on a recent foray. I could be wrong. My attention was oft distracted by views of silvery granite peaks of the Sawtooth range, adorned by seasonal colors of golden larches. 

If you are looking for a short and sweet, in and out, close to town, and relatively flat walk, Elderberry Canyon is one option. To get there, travel one mile south of Carlton, and turn right into the Libby Creek drainage. After 3.6 miles, take the left fork and continue on Libby Creek Road for about a quarter of a mile. An old forest road sign indicates “Elderberry Canyon Road End, 2”. The first portion of this dirt road is private. If driving a high-clearance all-wheel drive vehicle, you could drive to the end of this two-mile rutted road and park in a small clearing. Otherwise, park alongside Libby Creek Road. Do not block the entrance, and do not stray from the easement.

Elderberry Canyon trail begins at the end of this two-mile rutted and overgrown jeep track. Wide and shaded, the trail is a roadbed that gently climbs for approximately two miles through red ponderosa pine, dressed in brilliant wolf lichen. At two miles, the trail disappears into a small meadow. Lookout Mountain rises ahead, and the ambitious hiker in search of views can continue on the open ridge line to the lookout. 

This gem is a go-to trail for all seasons. In the spring, yellow balsam and spring beauties carpet the forest floor and frame the views of the Sawtooths. In summer and fall the shaded roadbed is an easy mountain bike ride with rewarding views. Elderberry Canyon is accessible in winter, as Libby Creek Road is reliably plowed. Skiers and snowshoers should look for wider parking pullouts at the junction of Libby Creek Road and Smith Canyon Road and walk the quarter mile to the beginning of Elderberry Canyon Road.

Harts Pass to Grasshopper Pass

Original publication, Methow Valley News, September 4, 2019

The holiday weekend crowds were delightfully sparse along the Pacific Crest Trail between Harts Pass and Grasshopper Pass. A parking spot was available, there were no lines at the outhouse, and the hikers were stretched few and far between.

All the elevation was gained via Harts Pass Road 5400. The road climbs above 6000’ in elevation into the heart of the North Cascades, where Hart’s Pass accesses a network of trails into the vast Pasayten Wilderness. 

Hart’s Pass is the highest road in the State of Washington. Built in 1893, the route gave access to gold and silver mines and over 1,000 permanent residents. According to “High Hopes and Deep Snows, How Mining Spurred Development of the Methow Valley,” author Marcy Stamper states the town of Barron near Harts Pass served 2,500 miners with a post office, a butcher shop, a trading company, several restaurants, gambling establishments, and “dancing women.” The road is named after Thomas Hart, the mine owner who built the road to transport equipment and ore. When the gold ran out, so did the people. The town of Barron was hastily abandoned in 1907, people left just as quickly as they first appeared, leaving tools of trade and personal belongings behind. Sally Portman, in her book, “The Smiling Country” relays the humorous account of sisters Ruth and Florence McLean camping up at Hart’s Pass with their family in 1910:

              “The two sleuths dove into some old boxes left in haste by former dance hall girls and delightedly lifted out fancy-lady dresses…Florence put on one and started running as fast as she could up the path. When asked why she was running away, Florence answered, ‘I heard this dress belonged to a fast woman and I’ll bet I’m just as fast as any of them.’”

All that remains today are the views that leaves one either speechless or reaching for superlatives. Summer flowers are still in limited bloom, while other blooms have dried to perfection on the stem. The larch will turn golden in a few short weeks. The hike from Hart’s Pass to Grasshopper Pass is relatively easy and flat, following the ridgeline along the Pacific Crest Trail. To get there, travel Lost River road from Mazama to the end, continue the gravel forest service road 5400. At roughly 13 miles on 5400, the road forks. To the left is Meadows Campground, straight on is Hart’s Pass. There are many trailheads and views at Hart’s Pass, but for this hike, I recommend turning left and heading towards Meadows Campground. At another fork in the road, the left leads to the campground, while the right fork continues to Brown Bear Trailhead. Take the right fork and park at the Brown Bear Trailhead. 

Follow the trailhead to the Pacific Crest Trail mark. A large sign indicates left to Glacier Pass, and right to the Canadian Border. Turn left. Grasshopper Pass is 4.7 miles from this trailhead. A detailed trail description with mileage and points of interest can be found at https://www.wta.org/go-hiking/hikes/grasshopper-pass. 

Shock Waves, Sound Waves

Original publication, Methow Valley News, September 11, 2019

That was a lovely little storm, wasn’t it? I have not enjoyed a raucous storm in years. Five years, to be precise. But this time was different. I thoroughly reveled in the cacophony of light and sound. Perhaps because there was an accompaniment of rain, or maybe because it is September, and the leaves are starting to turn, a delightful presage to snow.

In the morning after the storm, I strolled through the woods. My hands slid over the tops of heavy sodden shrubs, releasing a cascade of raindrops from the golden red leaves to fall once more to the ground. I thought of a certain poem, expressing the angst of a summer storm, versus the sigh of relief exhaled when a storm ushers in autumn. 

Mother, Summer, I - Philip Larkin

My mother, who hates thunder storms,
Holds up each summer day and shakes
It out suspiciously, lest swarms
Of grape-dark clouds are lurking there;
But when the August weather breaks
And rains begin, and brittle frost
Sharpens the bird-abandoned air,
Her worried summer look is lost,
And I her son, though summer-born
And summer-loving, none the less
Am easier when the leaves are gone
Too often summer days appear
Emblems of perfect happiness
I can't confront: I must await
A time less bold, less rich, less clear:
An autumn more appropriate.

Is a thunderstorm a power anthem of Mother Nature? A single bolt of lightning travels 200,000 mph and is hotter than 50,000 degrees Fahrenheit. The sun is practically frigid in comparison at slightly over 10,000 degrees Fahrenheit.

Lightning occurs during a dance of molecules and temperature. As water vapor rises into the heights of the atmosphere, it cools and forms ice. As more molecules join the party, they dance with a greater frenzy. Bumping and grinding, these ice crystals collide and build up an electrical charge. Positively charged ions are lightweights, and rise to the top of the cloud. Negatively charged particles carry more weight, and drop to the bottom of the cloud. When these particles build up to a tipping point, a bolt of lightning streaks between the positive and negative charges, bringing equilibrium to the cloud once more…and the dance continues. If there are positive charges on the ground below, then a lighting bolt of energy will occur between the ground and the cloud. But you already knew all this.

The extreme heat of the lightning bolt, five times greater than the sun, attempts to expand into the cold air of the cloud. But, traveling at 200,000 mph, there is no time or space for the release of energy to expand. The force of energy results in a shock wave that rips open a tunnel through the cold air. As the tunnel collapses, the shock wave is then expressed as a sound wave. Rolling thunder that goes on and on is an audible signature of the length of the tunnel as it closes behind the shock wave created by super-heated lightning bolts. And now you know a thing, that perhaps you already knew.