Olympic National Forest Slideshow

Click on the link below for the Olympic National Forest slideshow.

http://picasaweb.google.com/chrisduca34/OlympicNationalForest

"...and sometimes we go hiking."

We don't only busy ourselves with rock climbing; in fact, sometimes we even seek out hiking as our weekend activity.

Over this past weekend (our weekend actually began on Thursday), Lindsay, Mabes and I drove 2 hours out to the Olympic National Forest for a few days of sunny weather, high altitude, hot springs and hiking. Our first foray into the wilderness of the Olympics found us atop Mount Townsend after 4 hours and 10.5 miles of steady uphillin' it. Graced with 360 degree vistas of Mount Rainier, Mount Baker, Seattle and the Olympics, but bothered by hunger and heat, we hurriedly raced down the loose switchbacks in half the time in search of food.

That night, we camped out in quiet campground about a 5 miles within the National Forest boundary. Mabel was out like a light, but Lindsay and I seemed to be a little restless due to the gravel surface we were sleeping on, the heat Mabel was generating inside the tent, and the residual energy from the days hike.

The following day, we opted for a much shorter hike (5 miles) out an old logging road to the Olympic Hot springs. Before we knew it, our bodies were soaking in a 126 degree sulfur pool perched at the zenith of an old landslide. We ran into some nice folks that gave us the lowdown on the hot springs, fed us smoked gouda and oranges, as well as sharing the beta on the mother of all hot springs located in Death Valley.

Mabel, unfortunately, had to wait in the car for the few hours we were gone, which we feared would turn into a catastrophe. Nothing was eaten or ruined in the car when we got back, though...whew!

On Saturday, we did go rock climbing at a local spot called Amazonia. Covered by the canopy of the thick, old growth forest on the southern side of Mount Washington, this gently over-hanging crag was the perfect choice for a quiet day in the woods. By mid afternoon, we were getting hungry, so we safely sped back to town, got changed, and hit a local Irish pub for some shepherds pie and cornbeef sandwiches.

Check out the slideshow from the Olympics and check for updates this week! Ciao for now.

Granite Playground

Over the past weekend, Lindsay, Mabel and I took trip up to British Columbia to a small town called Squamish with a big chunk of granite lording over it like big brother. The granite wall is named the Stawamus Chief, and it's the 2nd largest granite monolith in the world (the first being Yosemite's El Capitan). This was our first trip to BC with Mabel, so we weren't sure how the border crossing was going to go with a pet in tow. Everything ended up occuring without a hitch, or kink in the plans. As it turned out, last weekend was the Squamish Mountain Festival, so the little town, that is normally turned on end during peak seasons, was especially busy. Fortunately, we arrived Thursday evening, prior to the hippie masses (we'll get to that in a bit!) arrival.

One thing I continually have to remind myself is that a good nights sleep is few and far between when camping--you take what you can get. Our first night was pretty quiet, aside from the cackling crow that awoke us at the godforesaken hour of 5am! I got up, threw a rock at it, then promptly went back to bed.

That day, we got our first taste of Squamish rock. Our climbing started out at a small and sunny crag right off a nice bike trail. It was aptly named Penny Lane. Nice. We climbed a few routes up there, then moved over to another area and sampled some of the finer and harder crack lines. Our day had dwindled past, we had run out of water, and were getting pretty hungry. We bagged climbing for the day after climbing 7 routes, went back to camp and made fajitas. That evening, we saw the only other car with Vermont plates on it. A couple from Brandon, Vermont had been traveling across the country for the past month and took an Alaskan, then Canadian detour. While Lindsay and I finished off our meal with the requisite S'mores, we imbided in some adult beverages and spoke to the other VTers. They were nice enough, and for about 1/2 hour we shared some laughs and stories about New England and Vermont.

The following day our plan was to get up pretty early, hit the Grand Wall Base Area and bang off a couple of the classic routes we knew would be swarming with people later in the morning. We got there, dispensed with Exasperator Crack and Peasants' Route, then left before we saw anyone.

After deciding to head out for dinner to a local brewery, we returned to our campsite that evening (Saturday to witness what was the beginning of the hippie invasion of Squamish. Our campground was swarming with the smell of campfires (nice), cooking food (even nicer), and the sound of...bongos and guitars (not so nice). Showers then to bed by 9pm, only to be awoken at 3:30am by bongos, guitars, and drunken laughter. What the hell?! Lindsay boiled over, got uo, and marched over to the very receptive drunken partyers, to relay a very polite, but curt message to please cease ansd desist. They did, and subsequently, we slept in later than anticipated the following morning.

Driving home on Sunday lasted longer than expected due to a 50 minute delay at the US border crossing. Lindsay and Mabel napped, I festered.

After thinking it through and talking about it for a while, we decided Mabel had a pretty decent weekend despite all of the hooplah and action at the campground (no growling, barking, or snarling; only one lunge at a bunny that seemed to get a little too close, the unwarranted killing of a small mole at the base of the Grand Wall Saturday morning, and the nipping of a sheepdog's rear end that resulted in Mabel having a mouthful of white sheepdog fur).

***************************************************************************

Now that we are back in Tacoma, we've come to the conclusion that for Lindsay's next assignment (and probably everyone thereafter), she's going to focus more on the quality of the town she choses, and not so much on the quality of the hospital. Sounds a little backwards, but the point of this trip was to enjoy ourselves in places we want to be. More later...

The Most Stressful City

Good afternoon all. Another glorious day in Washington State. I just got back from a long bike ride, and was thinking about the size of Tacoma. It's a hard place to figure out because it is so spread out, there are so many dang automobiles, and it is so close to Seattle. TO help your mind quantify the size of the city here are some interesting (and not so intersting) facts and comparisons about our current place of residence.

The city of Tacoma, WA isn't as large as you'd think. Spread out over an area roughly 15 miles in diameter, and split nearly down the middle by the South Puget Sound, Tacoma pales in comparison to its neighbor to the north, Seattle. However, what the estimated 196,000 people that live in Tacoma might not know is that their relatively small city is actually the size of at least one Africa country, French Guiana. To further connect Tacoma's population to other things of planetary significance near or at the same number is easy. For example: October of 1918, our nation suffered the deadliest month in its history. Due to the outbreak of Influenza, a record 195,000 people fell victim to the deadly disease. Also, Reno, Nevada, dubbed "The Biggest Little City in America" has a population of 195,000. Another quirky fact about Reno is that during the '20s and '30s, many women escaped to Reno looking for a Reno-vation of their life. Unlike many other states in the nation at during that time, they could get a divorce after the short 6 weeks period it took to gain residency.

New York City is comprised of five burroughs: The Bronx, Manhattan, Brooklyn, Queens, and Staten Island. According to a 2001 census, the south section of the the Bronx alone has 195,000 people. (Now if that doesn't make Tacoma feel small?!) And finally, because of Tacoma's not so big-not so small population, it suffers from middle child syndrome. Yes. Recently (2004), Tacoma was ranked our nation's most stressful city to live in. Why? Apparently, Tacoma has an extremely high number of suicides, unemployed residents, homeless people, and gloomy days. To boot, John Muhammad, the Washington, D.C. sniper from a few years back (remember him?!) was from here.

And that's all I have to offer your brain today.

"Vancouver! Vancouver! This is it!!"

Those were the last words spoken by David Johnston right before Mt. St. Helens erupted in May of 1980. The eruption's reverberation was felt as far away as Portland, OR, and the ash, smoke, and soot released from St. Helens darkened the spring sky for the remainder of the day. Thousands of acres of wilderness and miles of rivers were wiped out and smoothed over by mudslides that buried 3-story houses.

This past weekend, Lindsay and I, along with Jim and Jessi from Bend, met in Portland, OR for a weekend of music, hiking, good food, and adult beverages.

Friday saw us witnessing one of the best concerts ever-- The Police. We traveled down to see them play at the Clark County Ampitheater in Ridgefield, WA. Their set was amazing, playing everythingyou'd expect, as well as some more obscure tunes from Ghost in the Machine and Zenyatta Mondatta. We were seated in the general admission section; however, that did not disuade Lindsay from hoppin' the fence and making a bee-line for the rows of seats 100 yards away. For roughly 10 minutes, I was certain that she had been caught and escorted out of the venue, leaving myself, Jim and Jessi wondering about her whereabouts. Luckily, she made, as did the rest of us...yes, the rest of us. If it weren't for the complete stranger standing next to us, egging us on, I think we all would've chickened out. And I'm not going to lie and say a liquid courage didn't help...because it did. (A slideshow of concert pictures is in the making.)

Saturday morning we awoke early and groggy. We camped out about 30 miles from Mt. St. Helens in an RV campground. Surrounded by Winebagos and other large campers, we felt like sardines. Nevertheless, we got a good, albeit short, night of sleep. That morning we ate a greasy breakfast then drove to the National Monument where we did the touron thing for a few hours. We were all pretty tired from the previous night of debauchery, so we kept it pretty low key.

Just a couple of other random updates: Lindsay and I have been rock climbing a lot at this amazing collection of cliffs called Index. Beautiful granite walls with some of the best crack lines we've ever climbed. Mabel's adjustment to big city living has been pretty seemless thanks to the help of the dozen or so dogs that have quickly befriended her, and helped with her doggie socialization. She still suffers from some serious separation anxiety, though. Just last Thursday she showed us just how much she missed us by chewing one of our backseat seatbelts in half! Yes, thanks Mabel for that. (This is a picture of Mabes in the headrest stockade!)

Sammy Hagar...in Leavenworth?

For 2 days, Lindsay, our good buddy, Drew, and I spent climbing on the outlying hills of Leavenworth, Washington.

We arrived in Leavenworth Saturday morning around 10am. This town sets itself apart fromother Pacific Northwest towns because of its Bavarian theme. Leiderhosen, A Maypole and more Bavarian architecture and home decor than you can shake a stick at. For further effect, many people (I have my suspicions that its the tourists!!) feel the need to dress in traditional Bavarian attire. Strange and embarrassing at the same time. We did see an older woman walk into the Leavenworth Waffle Haus with a long dress, stockings, and what seemed to be a corset on beneath her low-cut blouse. Flattering, I think not.

After getting lost trying to find the Special Spot/Retardant Rock, we eventually found the right pullout along Rt. 2. The approach to the cliffs can be likened to scaling a NJ beach pitched at a 30 degree angle for 35 minutes. Very dusty and hot, treacherous at times, and taxing on the body, mind and soul.

We eventually arrived at a small, but exquisite little cliff with some bolted climbs--our warm-ups for the day. Drew and I led and Lindsay followed a great route called "Gun Rack" , and then Lindsay led a testy 5.8 trad route of which the name is still a mystery, and at which I am still shaking my head because of the loose nature of it. That girl is an animal.

Our main objective for the day, however, was a route called "The Javelin". The route is splashed on the cover of the most recent guidebook for Leavenworth, and when I saw the picture I knew I had to climb it. A strikingly thin flake that requires the climber to layback and undercling up the entire left side of the finger-shaped feature while delicately smearing your feet on the adjecent granite wall. Tricky, pumpy, and mixed bag of gear and bolts, to boot. I had a feeling that I was going to enjoy this line. As sure as a Mabel barking at another dog, we all loved this route. At 70 feet, it was long enough to give us a good pump, but short enough for all of us to be done within a hour of our arrival.

That night we camped off a nameless forest service road near the Snoqualmie River. The water added a nice touch to the otherwise sleepless night we had due to Mabel being a little too pre-occupied with all the outside noises.

I think Lindsay was awake first, but I took over Mabel duty as soon as I realized Mabel had gnawed threw her tether and was running freely around our campsite collecting sticks and hiding them in the woods. I tackled Mabel, brought her under control, then she and I strolled down to the river, stuck our faces in to wake up, then meandered back up to camp. In the matter of a split second after returning to camp, Mabel was off like a flash into the woods chasing a deer. Knowing I was going to have a bear-of-a-time finding her, I let the chase run its course, knowing full-well that Mabel would eventually come back. When she arrived back to camp with her head hung low, she knew she shouldn't have done what she just did.

We planned to leave early on Sunday afternoon, as Lindsay had to work that night. We had a much easier and enjoyable hike up to our destination on Sunday--Clamshell Cave Rock. An assortment of moderate slab/crack lines littered this sunny little crag that sits high atop a hillside overlooking a fork of the river we had just camped along. On our way out, Drew and I ran into a fellow who looked like Sammy Hagar. Bizarre.

Next weekend we're spending with Jim and Jessi (aka Jedi), our farmer friends from Bend, Oregon. We're seeing The Police in concert on Friday night and hiking around Mount Saint Helens on Saturday. Should be a hoot.

Job update: I think Lindsay is liking her job more now, and I am still unemployed (as approved by the wife), but will be substitute teaching beginning the start of the school year.

We have our suspicions...

...that Mabel is having a good time.

She hasn't stopped smiling since she's been here. A typical day in the life of this pooch is as follows:

Wake up at 6:30 or 7am, stretch, weasel her way into either, or both, of her parents armpits to wake them up. Shamelessly give wet willies. Scratch at door until one, or both, owners can't stand it any more and bring her out. Tug on leash. Sniff yard...a lot. Bark at other dogs (if present), provoking them to play chase. Nip butts of other dogs to provoke a chase, a bark, a retaliation nip, or any response that may make Mabel want to play more. Go in after 30 minutes of playtime, eat, drink, flop over and fall asleep for an hour. Get up and repeat process until it is time for her humans to go to bed.