Un Dia Perfecto

If there is such a thing as a perfect, fall day - the day we went to Colchuck had to come close. We arrived in Leavenworth around 9 am but, unlike our last trip there in July, it was not hot. The wan autumn sunshine filtered through the trees at the trailhead creating light, but not much else. Despite our gloves and jackets, we were still shivering in the crisp air as we set off. The trail wound through the forest, not too steep - but enough of a workout that we were soon pulling off the gloves and unzipping the jackets. The dim green of evergreens was broken intermittenly by yellow and brown maples. These glimpses of color were temporarily exciting as each could be the gold leaves of the larches we were searching for. We crossed a few wooden bridges and eventually arrived at Colchuck Lake, just as the sun began to shine in earnest.

Fog wafted off the wet stumps by an old dam at the closest end of the lake. Impressive Dragontail and jagged Colchuck rose majestically at the far end, casting an imposing shadow on Asgard Pass. The still silence of the mountains was broken only by our footsteps and the occasional pip of a pika. After carefully maneuevering across the half-submerged logs at the dam, we worked our way around the edge of the lake, enjoying the solitude and the placid water. Larches rose up from the shore like golden flames against the almost unnatural teal water. The sun rotated around until it was peeking over the edge of the pass, which looked less menacing the closer we got. A herd of larches marched their way into the basin from the Upper Enchantments, seemingly headed toward the lake to join their vibrant friends.

Illuminated by the sun, the brilliant needles were almost transparent against the pure, blue sky. A small beach, still covered in frost and ice looked back toward Leavenworth. Artistic black swirls appeared in the granite sand, the gentle curves contrasting with the sharp peaks of the mountains around us. I felt as if I could stay there forever and be happy. But the sun was already making its way back down behind the mountains, as if it didn't quite have the energy to pop up over Dragontail.
Since we had come to see the larches, we aimed for a large cluster about half-way up the now shadowy pass. Pika tracks dotted the snow-dusted rocks. From the grouping of the prints it seemed like the fuzzy mountain hamsters had hopped from rock to rock. We heard them chirping around us as the stashed leaves for the winter, but my shy cousins kept their distance. A few couples struggled up Asgard, headed for a campsite in the Enchantments. Without the heavy packs and with the tantalizing view, the snowy pass didn't seem so daunting. We turned back as we began to run out of space on our memory cards, arriving at the parking lot well after dark because of a little confusion about the path. Even the bustle of Oktoberfest and the iffy food we ordered couldn't break the peaceful feeling that came from experiencing what has to be one of the most beautiful places on Earth.

Do The Puyallup

Since it was the last weekend for the legendary Puyallup fair we headed down for some cow-petting, Krusty Pups and, most of all, people watching. Looking at the crowd piling through the gates, we knew we would be in for a good time. The line for hand-dipped corndogs and onion burgers was long, but we finally got the classic fair food. What's a fair without a rodeo, right? Well - we had missed the scheduled rodeo, but found something even better - Mutton Bustin'. This event was for kids aged 2-6. Basically, they take the unsuspecting youngsters, sit them atop a jaded, street-smart sheep and just let go. Most of the kids were bucked off within the first couple seconds, but a few clung on grimly (out of fear or determination) and made it to the end of the run. The ridden sheep gathered at the end, comparing tattoos and glaring menacingly at the children. One kid rode his sheep all the way to the ground - ending in a spectacular somersault where the boy was momentarily UNDER the beast. Second place went to a two-year-old girl who will forever be one of the few people on earth who is deathly afraid of sheep. As an outside observer one would probably be horrified to see small kids being terrorized just so their parents can get a few pictures of them being bucked off a dirty, four-legged cotton ball. However, as a spectator, it was pretty darn amusing.

After the kids had received their prize belt buckles, we wandered over to the animal displays. My favorite was the reindeer with his big, watery eyes and spindly antlers. The speckled draft horses were impressive. No dainty race-horse names like Seabiscut here. Names like Chief, Rex, and King were much more suitable for these immense but beautiful creatures. I was not a big fan of the emu, whose beady eyes and sharp beak were uncomfortably fixed on my tail. The scruffy, highland cows were cute and friendly. The young one licked Kelly's hand with it's 100-grit, sandpaper tongue while I posed for a picture.

We picked up an elephant ear and some fresh lemonade before finding a seat on the ground next to the hypnotist stage. Like the kids on the sheep, it is always amusing to watch people do silly things. While the kids were cute, however, the participants in the hypnotist show pretty much just got to make fools of themselves. I tried to get Kelly to volunteer, but she wasn't outgoing enough, so I missed my chance at fame. I'd like to try being hypnotized sometime, just to see what happens. But maybe I'll try it somewhere where I won't be on a stage in front of hundreds of people with cameras...