Catching up

So, I got a little behind with my blog - as many of you may have noticed. I blame that partially on the fact that Kelly didn't have internet available for me for a few months. Plus, she keeps running off with the computer so she can do her homework after work. Since about six months have passed since I last wrote, I'll just summarize - at least up to the point where we went to Greece - that deserves its own entry.

We spent Christmas in Arizona - mostly in Sun City with the Vilvens. Kelly flew in a couple days before everyone else, which turned out very nice. We had a few days with her grandparents before everyone else got there. Grampy Wallace was in the hospital with a broken arm, but got released a few days after we left. We ventured up to Sedona for a couple days after Christmas, which is just an hour away from my hometown of Flagstaff. For Kelly's birthday, Ryan took her to a nice Thai place in Seattle. The rain was pouring down outside, but the food, tea and company were warm enough to counteract that. It was quite appropriate that Ryan's gift was an umbrella. The lining is a happy sky spotted with white clouds. It makes Kelly smile when she is using it, knowing that she has the only patch of blue sky around.

Washington had record snowfall this year and really bad avalanche conditions. Nevertheless, we managed to get a few hikes in. Kelly bought and used an ice axe for the first time on Anaconda Peak, in January. The hike was icy and she was still scared at times, despite my encouragement from her backpack. The top was cold and windy, but it felt really great just to be out doing something. In February we hiked Iron Mountain. An ice axe wasn't necessary, but Kelly still used hers a couple times on the way up. At the top, it was gorgeous. The sun was out and the views were spectacular. We laid at the top for an hour, like we were on a beach - not a mountain. Only, on a beach you can't make giant snowballs and roll them off the cliff. We heard a couple avalanches go and decided to head back before the snow got too soft.

Kelly's first solo Dale Carnegie course started at the beginning of February in Auburn. Travis sat in for the first few sessions, in case she had questions. She was so nervous the first couple sessions, but finally settled into a routine. I even got to go to her graduation in April. (More on that in a later entry.) In week two or three Kelly made an offer on a townhouse on the Kent/Auburn line.

On the 29th of February, Kelly took a big leap and moved from IDS to BCA. Stress to flight test engineering. AEW&C to the 777 Freighter. Kent to Seattle. The commute is longer, but she says being able to walk around the planes and do some hands-on work is totally worth it. This group also does weekly hikes, so we've been on a few of those. With the iffy conditions, they've all been lower elevation walks, generally through muddy paths. Some days it feels like the sun doesn't exist.

Spring break and Easter came early this year. During the week off, in March, Kelly's cousin flew out from Texas to stay with us and see Seattle. Since he couldn't rent a car, and Kelly needed hers to drive to work, Kelly's mom came up to help him get around. Since the townhouse was supposed to close at the end of March, they helped us pack after hitting the museums.

The first couple weeks of April were a little stressful for Kelly. She was finishing up two classes and starting another. Between taking and teaching classes her time was spent trying to wrap up the townhouse deal and get ramped up in her new job. She spent about a week up in the factory in Everett waiting for a test to happen and building up hours to flex time for vacation. Somehow she managed to fit in 62 hours of work and almost all of her schoolwork the week before we went to Greece. She said it wasn't that hard, though, because she was enjoying everything she was doing. I guess it's not as hard to work for 62 hours if you get to be around an airplane all day. And the paper she had to write - was about Greece. So, in the end, it all worked out great and she was able to catch up on sleep during the plane ride.

Hippity Hoppity - Where's the Wapati?

The third week of November in Utah is supposed to be cold. The ski resorts are supposed to be open on Thanksgiving. The mercury should dip well below freezing every morning. Not this year. When we landed in Salt Lake, the surrounding mountains rose majestically in the distance, but the tops were brown, not snowy white. After spending Friday working virtually in Salt Lake we headed toward those mountains - up to 7,000 feet, about 100 miles from the city. On the way to the cabin we saw a figure crouched in the dark, on the side of the road. We backed up and opened the door for a lonely, friendly Border Collie. The Vilvens seem to gain dogs by fate, and this one was fated to become a part of the family.

Deer munched happily in the fields around the cabin, basking in the sunshine and apparently aware that deer season was over. Big bucks bounded after the does - big bucks that had been mysteriously absent during the deer hunt. We headed to the lowlands, where the large herds of elk had resided the year before, confident that we’d get an elk on opening day. We followed our normal routine – one gun going in on the bottom side of the ridge, the other driving around to the top in case the herd broke for the fence line. It was a good plan – except the elk weren’t there.

Blaming the hot, dry fall, we left the winter range after walking a few potholes which were devoid of fresh sign. After lunch we hopped on the four-wheelers and ascended the mountain over McDonnell basin. Once again, deer peered out from amongst the aspen, which towered like fence-posts against the watery, blue sky. Cruising comfortably along the dirt roads, we realized this hunt might not be over as quickly as we suspected. Not even a flake of snow was present, even at the top, where does and fawns indicated that the animals had not moved down for the winter.

On the way back, we finally caught a glimpse of a small herd of elk through the naked, white trunks. They trotted through the trees, two-hundred yards into the grove. We followed them on the four-wheeler, but were unable to get a descent shot, so went home empty-handed.

Sunday and Monday proved equally futile. Monday Salt Lake had a record high of 72 degrees – which translated to a balmy 65 degrees up in the mountain. The deer filled the fields like rabbits, but the elk remained elusive. We scoured the sagebrush in the trucks, tramped through cedar-filled ridges, and buzzed around on the four-wheeler. We saw does, fawns, bucks, cotton-tails, golden eagles, moose, and grouse. But only signs of elk. It is pretty bad when the highlight of your day is stumbling upon fresh elk pee.

Finally, on Tuesday, we got a break. The temperature dropped to 8 degrees in the morning. No moisture meant no snow, but we hoped the drop in barometric pressure would convince the elk that winter was finally here. Before checking out a new place, we hit up our normal haunt in the lowlands and hit the jackpot. The local herd of elk was there, hiding in the cedars. Scouring the flats as the sun rose, we finally saw them. Jon drove them straight towards Kim, who got some shots off. Startled, the elk headed for the ridgetop. We raced along the rutted, dirt road – the Jeep rattling and clanking as we went – and kicked it into reverse to catch the nine cows just as they crested the hill, panting from the sprint.

With our two tags filled, Kim was able to set off for Kansas in time to spend Thankgiving there. Kelly’s mom came out from California, knowing only that a “surprise” was waiting for her in the form of a cowdog. The last few days were crisp, with highs close to freezing – much more normal. Kelly ran around to catch some last pictures, although the cold had forced many of the animals to bed-down until late in the morning. After a pleasant hike through the aspens she spotted a young, bull moose. Apparently moose do not like having their pictures taken. He chased us down the road, through the yellow gate, across the half-frozen creek – straight back to the car. Hopefully a few of the pictures will turn out after all that effort.

The ski resorts were frantically making snow as we passed on the way back to Salt Lake. We left the cold but clear, dry air of the Salt Lake valley for the welcome humidity in overcast Seattle.

Los Papas

After a few days of lazing about the cabin it was time for a little action. The Tractor Tavern had just what we needed – the Cherry Poppin’ Daddies. We got there plenty early, but had to return to the car when we ended up being 3 dollars short of the admission price. The guys at the door were incredulous when we showed up with a handful of change to cover the rest of the cover, but still sold us the last two tickets.

The floor was so crowded that dancing was pretty much impossible, although some of the more intoxicated onlookers tried their best. Watching the keyboardist was worth the price of admission – and seeing the band live really added to the music.

Rodrigo y Gabriella

Spontaneity can be a lot more fun than planning out an event, as we found out on Halloween this year. Instead of trick-or-treating we rushed from Kelly’s class up to the Paramount in Seattle where Rodrigo y Gabriella were playing. A mix of acoustic flamenco and heavy metal, this Mexican-Irish pair have a unique sound whether they are playing their own songs or a Pink Floyd cover. As much fun as the music is watching them play – their hands moving so fast even the video cameras couldn’t keep up. One problem with spontaneity is the possibility that, in the last-minute rush to get tickets and a spot on the floor, you might forget where your car is…

Lock, Yacht & Salmon?

Hoping to catch a concert in the park one sunny afternoon, we drove up to Ballard to the Crittenden Locks. This turned out to be a pretty fascinating place, even though one of the dock workers told us there wasn’t a concert that day. When boats transition from the freshwater of the sound to the salt water they must pass through the locks to avoid mixing the two types of water. A beautiful day draws quite a number and variety of boats, from million-dollar yachts to single-person ocean kayaks. Workers guide the boats into the locks based on size where they wait for water to either fill or drain, depending on which direction they are going. People are not the only one traversing the waters. Salmon struggle along in the strong current, their efforts visible from the many underwater viewing windows.

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...

Windy Whidbey

Autumn storms indicated a blustery weekend, so while most people were waiting out the storm we ventured north. The weather wasn't quite as bad as we had hoped as we pulled into the line-up for the Mukilteo ferry. Since we had a 20-minute wait we wandered past the ice-cream shop and eyesore condos to check out the Mukilteo lighthouse. Situated atop a quaint little building, the red-capped watchtower looked out over the water toward Whidbey island - our destination for the day. The wind-whipped waves turned the normally tranquil bay into a small, turbulent ocean.

The upper decks of the ferry were warm and cozy, but we passed through the viewing area to the aft deck. Our wake churned up the rough water, creating a white streak against the grey skyline. After emptying a packet of saltines (swiped from the food counter) we were rewarded by the sudden appearance of hungry seagulls. They glided clumsily behind the ferry, slipping back and forth as their beady eyes watched for another morsel of cracker. We pulled into the harbor in Whidbey with a cloud of grey and white feathers gathered on what would soon be the front of the ferry.

Due to a late start, it was lunchtime by the time we got to Langley. A quiet little town with specialty shops and small restaurants, it still seemed to be waking up, even at 1pm. Above the quirky grocery/mercantile was a small bistro where we dined on tasty, Mediterranean-inspired sandwiches. The neatest shop was a bookstore tucked away in an old bank building - the vault doors still intact. The other store we went to was owned by some slick-furred cousins of mine.

The wind began to pick up as we arrived at Fort Casey, and old fortification complete with bunkers and disappearing guns. White-caps and rainclouds suited the retired fort much better than a bright, sunny day could. We explored the dark rooms and prison-like guard towers, then walked over to the lighthouse. A little more imposing than the Muckilteo lighthouse, this one also had a better view. Driftwood littered the beach that stretched from the lighthouse to distant eroded cliffs. The waves had really picked up and we saw some kid pretending to be the one directing the great splashes as the water collided with the rocks. A light rain cleared off the beach and we took shelter in the ultimate driftwood fort. Our original plan had been to see Deception Pass at sunset, but as we looked out the front entrance of the fort the sun had already begun to dip into the waves.

We made it to Deception Pass well after dark, but ventured out onto the bridge anyway. The wind and the force of the semis going by a few feet from us left me gripping tightly to the railing. Crossing over to the mainland we arrived at the only Thai place in Mount Vernon windswept and hungry.

Antílope

Since I did so well fishing, I thought I'd try my paw at hunting. I left a rainy Seattle behind for the vast, sunny expanses of Southern Wyoming. Eight hours from Salt Lake City, the spot we camped included 3 of the dozen or so trees in the whole county. We arrived in the dark amidst a thunderstorm, which cleared up as soon as we finished putting the, now drenched, tents up. Hordes of moths attacked us, attracted by the lights of the RV.

I awoke to a chilly, but sunny, expanse of ranch-land sprinkled with rock formations. A small river carved it's way through the stunted sage brush towards the Pathfinder Ranch, which was our first destination after breakfast. We piled into the pickup, licenses in hand, and wound our way through the quiet ranch compound. We finally found a building with two herding dogs barking madly outside and were able to get permission from a woman while her toddler peered curiously out the screen door. Antelope surrounded us on the drive over to another ranch, where we found another border collie, but no people - thus no signature. After lunch we decided that Joe, the 22-yrd-old from Philly should be the first to shoot, so he got the front seat. Talk about exciting! It seemed that every 5 minutes we were spotting another group of antelope. Some were close enough to take a shot at, others bounded off, not even panting as we clocked them at 50 mph. If we were worried about finding six bucks to fill our tags, we shouldn't have been. Almost every group had a buck - or three. We began searching for only those with antlers twice as big as their ears and soon enough Joe got one. His had funny little back horns, which the game warden had never seen, and ended up having the biggest rack of all the ones we got. On the way back to camp we encountered a buck a mere 183 yds from the road. Vern, who has been hunting antelope for 40 years and is usually the last to shoot, was the only one with a rifle (for coyotes) and decided he was good for one shot. Coming back to camp laden with two cleaned bucks after only a half-day of hunting seemed to be a good omen.

The next morning dawned as pleasant as the first, and soon enough Kelly was out shooting at antelope. After missing one shot, we spotted the antlers of another buck who thought he was out of sight nestled in the sagebrush. This guy had a little nub on his nose, which made him look very prehistoric. On the way back it was Sonya's turn, but she kept getting stuck with practically impossible running shots - so she let Kelly's dad shoot for awhile to rest her shoulder. Joe spotted some bucks down near an old corral - and once again we headed back to camp with two antelope. Thunderstorms threatened the evening sky, but blew through, so we hiked up to the top of the nearest "mountain" as the sun set.


The temperature dropped a bit in the night, and the next day was overcast all morning - which was good for the meat we had hanging under the three trees. Sonya had donned her lucky pants, which lived up to their name - leaving Norm the only one without an antelope as we headed back to camp. We spotted a herd with two huge bucks at a very inconvenient distance of over 500 yds with an equally obnoxious backstop of cows. Since we had spent most of the hunt searching with the truck, we decided to split up. Norm and Joe sat a the one large, lonely tree in the river valley while Jon and Kelly walked up the river and Vern and Sonya came around in the truck. Down in the riverbed it was hard to see much, but we spooked a group of cattle, which spooked a herd of antelope - right toward the tree where Norm and Joe were waiting. After an impressive 400+ yd shot, we feasted on fresh tuna steaks (from the East Coast).

Since we had our quota and needed to take care of the meat and the RV, we headed back to Salt Lake a couple days early - leaving more vacation for the next hunt! :)

Punto más alto

After a fairly lazy, but nicely relaxing labor day weekend we decided to top off the holiday by hiking up to Camp Muir - the stop-off point for climbers who plan to summit Mt. Rainier. The clouds burned off as we drove to the national park and an iffy day turned out to be absolutely gorgeous. Equipped with day packs and trekking poles we worked our way up the 4.5 miles from Paradise to Camp Muir. My cousins, the marmots, were out enjoying the sunshine and tender grass - pretty much ignoring the hikers passing painstakingly by. The whole face of the mountain seemed to be covered with groups of climbers who had probably forked over quite a bit of money to pay for the bored-looking guides. The wind picked up as we left the paved trail, but the sun and the exertion kept us warm enough. I was a bit nervous about the glacier, but once we got past the icy bottom, the snow made gaining footing a bit easier. As we neared the 10,188 ft mark the air became markedly thinner and colder. Four hours after setting out we were shivering next to the campstove as we waited for our pasta, which was reluctant to boil at such an altitude. I crawled under a rock to block the wind until we found out that there are shelters available to the public and piled in one to finish our meal. Clouds started to form around the top of the mountain, but from Muir we could see forever. Mount St. Helens and Mt. Adams towered in the distance as a thunderstorm began building in the West. Warm and full, we began walking, skiing, sliding back down. Once we reached the main trail the wind died down. Most people had left the mountain by this time, so we pretty much had the place to ourselves. Long, pink sunrays danced across the valley as the sun slowly settled behind the mountain making the verdant surroundings really look like Paradise. Maybe I'll make it to the top someday - although I don't know if they make ice axes that would fit my paws - but until then, this is the highest I have been apart from an airplane.

Valiente

Well, I missed this entry, which should have been at the beginning of August. I think perhaps I was trying to block out the memories of the scary guy in the picture below. Per a recommendation, we went to the park just up the street from Ryan's house to see a band. A polka band. That's right - polka. First off, it was free. Secondly, they are the #1 polka band in the US. They have been producing records since 1979 - some original songs, and a lot of covers, including Jeepers Creepers, I Can See For Miles, and the Hokey Pokey. I really wanted to join in on the chicken dance, but Kelly wouldn't go up there with me. She will regret that for the rest of her life. For anyone with kids who is reading this - give your kids cake, ice cream and full-sugar soda before you play a Brave Combo polka album for them. Polka apparently hits some chord in a child that makes them go absolutely crazy. The good side-effect is, after two-hours of dancing like maniacs to the generally very fast beat, you will have to carry your kids to bed. I admit to being a bit skeptical when we loaded up the blanket, but the sunny lake shore and the kids' wacky dancing to the unorthodox music ended up being a heck of a good time. I really can't say a whole lot more about them - it's kind of one of those things you have to see for yourself.

Más lagos

Ready for a last after-work hike with the Wednesday group, we joined them at the Kendall Lakes trailhead. Since we arrived a little early, we set off with Bob and Dave, expecting the others to catch up with us shortly. However, the majority of the trail was an old logging road, so we made really good time up to the lakes. Goat tracks appeared on the trail now and then, but we never spotted their owners. The first trail option was overgrown and practically impassable. Not having a machete on hand, I decided we should continue on like the vague directions indicated we could. After a few false leads, we found the path to the lower lakes, then scrambled up the hill to a third lake where we polished off our pb&j. The lower lakes still had some sunshine, so we headed back down, just as the rest of the group caught up with us. A few of the guys splashed in the shadowy lake. Had there been a little more sun I would have been tempted, myself. We all hiked back down together, arriving at the trailhead, with headlamps blazing, shortly after dark.

Un Jueves Perfecto

The following Thursday was one of the most perfect days of the summer. We had skipped the Wednesday hike because it was basically the same as Twin Lakes, so went with the Renton hikers instead. It turned out only Ryan and Terry (the hike coordinator) showed up from Renton - so we basically had a guide to run us up Guye Peak, by Alpental. We must have been meant to go on that hike because Ryan forgot his hiking boots, but was able to wear Terry's sneakers. Talk about walking in someone else's shoes! The path from the parking lot was "roots and rocks" until we finally hit the ridge. Evidence that the summer was coming to an end surrounded us - ripe huckleberries nestled enticingly amidst the heather, which had begun to turn rust-colored. Munching on fresh berries, we made our way to the peak. The peak provided a vantage point from which we could see parts of the Pacific Crest Trail, the Kendall Catwalk and a few peaks that Ryan had done while Kelly and I were at Snow Lake. The heat radiating from the sun-warmed rocks created a relaxing atmosphere, which I was reluctant to leave. We made it to the parking lot just as the sun began to set and headed to Applebees for dinner.

Lago del Maggie

I came down with a case of bumblefoot and had to stay home for a week. I'm telling you, there is so much to do here, that I just can't afford to be sick. I didn't make it to an outdoor showing of King Richard III, where an eagle made an appearance that distracted the audience and the actors. That also means I missed my chance to buy chocolate coins emblazoned with the head of the bard. I missed a trip to Serene Lake, which I hear is as beautiful as it's name. After that hike I also had to skip a Mariner's game.

I finally felt well enough to go on the Wednesday night hike to Margaret Lake, which is out toward Snow Lake. This was the first Wednesday night hike I had made it on, although Kelly had done a few in the Spring. It was hot and the guys like to go as fast as they can, so Kelly pushed a little hard and had an asthma attack. I helped her to Twin Lakes, where she recovered enough to hit Margaret peak on the way back. The mosquitoes were pretty thick at the lakes, so we didn't spend much time there. We were just on our way out when the other group came down from the peak. They had left us arrows to locate the trail, but we missed one - the one pointing up the slope at a faint boot track through the underbrush. We found the arrow on the way back, but it had been slightly demolished by passers-by, so we weren't too surprised about missing it. I'm glad we did the peak second, actually, because we were able to watch the sun start to set from the top so the world was bathed in pale, pink light as we looked out.

Nieve, Otra Vez

It was yet another beautiful late-summer day, so Kelly accepted her coworker's invitation to hike up to Snow Lake. Although we had already done this hike, you could have fooled me. When we went in May there were 3 other cars - today there were 30. Before the switchback, the trail was pretty much the same. After we turned up toward the crest, however, it was vastly different. Instead of a vague insinuation of a path in the snow we had a well-trodden dirt path to follow. We could still hear the waterfall from the top, but this time we descended in the sun rather than the mist. It took a lot longer to follow the actual trail, which meandered back and forth toward the lake - sliding down the snowy hill was much quicker. Groups of people huddled in every available clearing at the edge of the lake, munching on sandwiches and fruit instead of heating up soup. The clear water was still chilly, although nothing like Lake Viviane. One group of hikers were jumping off a rock on the far bank, squealing and splashing as they entered the cold water. The path up was a little easier, since the lack of snow meant no kick-stepping and a gradual climb instead of straight up the cliff.

Simply Seattle

We had a very "Seattle" weekend when Kelly's friend, Chris, came for a visit. Friday night there was a birthday party - a bbq on a rooftop in Capitol Hill - in the rain. Saturday we attended "family day" at the Renton Boeing plant, mostly for the free food, and saw Harry Potter in the all-too-comfortable Lincoln Square theatre. Sunday we had breakfast at Wild Wheat and went to Temple Billiards to pass time until Chris' plane left. We played cutthroat. Normally I would win paws-down, but I was nice and let them win a few games, just to make sure they didn't cry.

Ze Plane, Jefe!

Another advantage of leaving the hot, dry climate of Arizona is that living in Seattle means I am close to the EAA's biggest fly-in on the West Coast - Arlington. Kelly had been years ago, but this was my first airshow. How exciting! We met up with Ralph, his dad and Helmut the first day we were there and watched them harass the Sky Raider salesmen. The night demonstration was hot-air balloons, which is very neat to watch. There's just something magical about being awoken by the sound of propellers after camping on an airport. Although smaller than Oshkosh, the Arlington fly-in has a nice taste of everything.

Ultralight demonstrations, warbirds, aerobatics and night shows kept the days busy. I was very impressed by the light plane pilot who was brave enough to turn off his engine mid-flight and land the little Hershey-bar-wing aircraft with the propeller not moving. The hang-gliding demonstration was very inspiring because the pilot performs with two motorized aircraft in the air with him and despite the fact that he was paralyzed in a previous accident. A jazz band and a flying/fireworks show topped off the last evening. A running commentary from our half-deaf, Canadian neighbors kept the fireworks show interesting.

"Is that it?"
"What?"
"Is it over?!"
"I dunno."
"What?"
"Who knows!"
"Oh. Hey - they are making noise now."
"What?"
"They are making noise now."
"What?"
"The fireworks - they're making noise now."
"Oh."

787 Rollout

Still a bit tired from the Enchantments hike, we opted for a less action packed afternoon at Qwest field. Getting a bit carried away, Boeing insisted the 787 be officially revealed to the public on 07-08-07. The trains were running free for Boeing employees, so we followed the herd onto the cattle cars, er...the Sounder...at Kent Station. After standing in line we got water and feed (787 Aquafina bottles and popcorn) then watched a very sarcastic broadcast of the 787 roll-out ceremony. The live event took place in Everett, but only certain employees were invited. The most memorable part of the day was the...colorful...woman we sat next to, who read our paws and left (after 2+ hours of waiting) about ten minutes before they finally rolled out the aircraft.

Encantado

Instead of watching fireworks for 4th of July, we took advantage of the mid-week holiday to go on a backpacking trip to the Enchantments. This remote area near Leavenworth requires permits, and only 15 people are allowed in every day. The beginning of the trail is well-maintained by both rangers and mountain goats, but the last third requires you to navigate via cairns. After fording a couple streams and struggling nine miles in the heat Kelly finally got tired of carrying me and left me standing in a skateboard-park-like rock formation. Luckily Ryan came back for me. We decided to camp next to Lake Viviane, a severely clear pool of icy blue water with Prussik peak as a backdrop. After setting up camp on the sandy bank of the lake Kelly and Ryan decided to rinse off some of the dirt and sweat in the lake. The water sparkled temptingly, but I noticed the ice and snow that ran right to the edge and decided to stay out. Washing off was more like a rodeo than swimming - staying in the freezing water for more than 8 seconds was a feat. After a tasty dinner of tortellini with marinara sauce and deer sausage we settled into the tent to avoid the mass of mosquitoes that had discovered us.

After a good night's sleep and armed with the knowledge that the 40-lbs packs were staying at camp, we headed out to explore the surrounding lakes and peaks. Kelly finally made it around a treacherous snow-field only to encounter an angry mama goat. The kid stuck close as mama circled around Kelly, pretty much ignoring Ryan and myself. She followed us doggedly until we left her territory and stepped out into a lush alpine meadow. Streams bubbled through the grass and snow creating deep, clear pools lined with small wildflowers. The heat of the day melted the snow and made the shade of larches a welcome sight. We rested under the trees, snacking on dried fruit until the mosquitoes found us and prompted us to move on. A marmot, a large, lazy cousin of mine, munched on grass entirely unconcerned about our presence. Kelly, still a little shaky from the fall down the snow field, decided the trek up Little Annapurna was too much for her, so we turned for Prussik peak. Napping on a rock ledge in the warm, afternoon sun we were woken by a curious mountain goat with a similar agenda. Panting under his thick, shaggy coat he peered down at us, then laid down and watched us leave. Our stomachs were growling, so we headed back to camp. Sticky with sweat and sunblock and deet, Kelly and Ryan decided to try the lake again - but it was still ice-cold. After dining on orzo the mosquitoes drove us back into the tent, where we spent what was left of Ryan's birthday watching the sunset and napping. The big dipper sparkled over the jagged outline of Prussik, and the quiet of the mountain air was interrupted only by the wind and the local mountain goats circling our tent.

For our last full-day we wandered through the lakes up to Enchantment Peak, which is the 50th or 53rd or 52nd highest peak in Washington, depending on which list you look at. At around 8520 ft it was high enough to give us a amazing, sweeping view of central Washington. The wind tugged violently on the map as we tried to identify the peaks around us - with Cannon mountain being one of the most distinctive. Half a dozen mountain goats lounged in the snow below us, trying to cool off. We finished off most of our food supply for dinner, which included Jell-o pudding - a treat I rarely even get at home. Wearing our raincoats to dissuade the mosquitoes, we packed up everything but the tent and the stove and tried to go to bed early so we could hike out before the sun and temperatures rose.

On the way out we passed the few other tents of the weekend campers. The packs were a bit lighter on the way down since we had eaten most of the food, so we made pretty good time in the crisp morning air. We descended into Leavenworth around 9 am just as it began to heat up, and feelt sorry for the people with full packs starting the long trek. We ate brunch and found milkshakes before leaving the touristy Scandinavian town.

Lago del plato

No, I wasn't on my way to Europe in this photo - but I was gearing up. My first long camping trip was to the warm, beautiful shores of Silver Lake. We stayed in Portland on the way down, but I didn't get to take any leftovers home from the Montage. Probably just as well, they might have shaped mine like a cat - I think that would make me lose my appetite. We got to Silver Lake a bit later than we had planned on, then realized we wanted more than just a weekend to spend in the quiet, rustic cabin. Mandy and Dave were excellent hosts, keeping us well-fed with tri-tip and chocolate chip cookies. Each morning we'd get up fairly early and have a quick breakfast before heading for the canoes and a trout-filled lake. As the breeze started to pick up we'd head back for some lunch, a few rounds of cribbage, a nap, maybe a hike and, of course, cookies with milk. Another nap would follow a refreshing swim in the cool, mountain-fed water, then back to the canoes. After dinner we tried night-fishing with glow-sticks, which turned out more entertaining than productive. Curled up with a bottle of hot-chocolate and some blankets we watched for shooting stars as the gentle lake waves rocked us to sleep in the bottom of the canoe. I probably could have slept all night like that if Kelly hadn't been startled by what turned out to be a flock of Canadian geese. It was a bit eerie to hear the noises echoing off the rocks, but seriously...girls. The short trip ended all-too-quickly. We packed some of the trout I caught in a cooler with a couple bags of ice. We ended up needing the ice as badly as the fish as we descended into the valley. Emily is a good girl, but she is a bit lacking in the air-conditioning department. I introduced myself to Kelly's pseudo-niece, Lilly, then spent the rest of the drive home desperately searching for milkshakes. Tired, sweaty but grateful for such a marvelous weekend, I drifted off to sleep and dreamed I was still floating...