Misadventures to Fill the Time

The Spit

    I have found myself with way to much time on my hands, and this generally begins in boredom, a little bit of self-pity, lots of reading, and eventually awesome journeys.  For those of you who know about the wonderful network called CouchSurfing, then you understand the possibility for new friendships that can begin.  The new friend I found, Babak, helped pushed me to get outside.  On Wednesday we drove to Sequim and hiked the full 11 miles out and back to the light house at the end of the Dungeness Spit, the longest natural sand bar in the United States.  I was able to explore a bit of this natural wonder last month and vowed to return and conquer.  My new CS buddy and I made it to the light house after the tours were supposed to be closed, but met a kind volunteer keeper who let us in.  An interesting bit of information, the spit grows by 15 feet each year, so although the light house was originally 1/16 of a mile from the end when it was built, there is now a 1/2 mile of new sand.  The sun liked us enough to come out from behind the clouds and we watched a colorful sunset back at the trail to the parking lot. I put a lot of thought into what footwear to equip myself with for this sand filled journey, and although I realize that Chacos were a better choice, I have learned that wet Chacos, sand, and 11 miles don't mix well.  I am still sporting some good blisters and raw skin from the sand that became trapped between the straps and my feet.  Totally worth it.

   Next adventure?  This one found us 4 hours north in the Mt. Baker Wilderness at the trail head to Church Mountain.  Another foggy day, creating an eery sense of isolation and a feeling of accomplishment when we got above the first layer.  I was not prepared for the numerous switchbacks that were so long at times as to make us believe that we had reached the end.  Lies!  My legs burned, my lungs struggled the thin air filled with moisture, and I struggled to fight the disappointment I get on cloudy hikes.  After several stops and curses at the incline we reached an awesome snow filled meadow, hidden by just enough fog to make us feel trapped in a bowl, wondering what was waiting for us just beyond.  Our intention was to reach the peak of Church Mountain, but after crossing a small stream, we realized that the fog and snow was proving to be more difficult when we were ready for.  Turning around with a belly satisfied with Clif Bars and trail mix, we were honored with a peek of the wilderness around us as the fog flew away for a bit.  Babak grew silent after making a connection with Middle Earth...or some sort of really cool other worldly spot.

   Anyone who has climbed switch back after switch will relate to excitement of being able to climb down something, and our curses when our body betrayed us, making you feel older than we want to.  We were pushed onward by the taste of pizza and beer from North Fork (the best way to end any journey around Mt. Baker).  Too bad these things couldn't fix the incredibly sore muscles that taunted me for the next few days.  Worth it.

   And then came the sad day when Babak continued his own adventures on to BC.  Back to work and hours spent reading...hours spent ignoring that homework I should be doing.  Then along came Alicia, who is an adventurer like me.  Our destination?  Mt. St. Helen's.  Mission created.  Let's bring Steve!  I've had a lot of crazy misadventures with this guy lately.

This is how every misadventure feels

   This was one of the most wonderful misadventures I've had in a long time.  I will spoil the story by admitting that the only events that caused this to be a misadventure was a shortage of water towards the end, painful feet, and an inability to make it through the paths we kept taking.  Always make sure you have enough water for these things.  Soak your feet after.  Enjoy where life takes you.  The closed trails led me to a small summit and the ability to view four major peaks at once.  Mt. Rainer, Mt. Adams, Mt. Hood, and the source of our excitement, Mt. St. Helen's.  As we continued on side trails I was dubbed Sydney the Scout, crawling over small washouts and running along rocky trails, in charge of the tough decision on whether to move forward or retreat.  I took pride in my work.  After blaring sun, breathtaking views, photo ops, and silence as we followed the winding path to the car, we washed off in the cool water of the well placed pump.  What's the best way to end a fulfilling day of adventure?  More good food, and good beer.  I slept hard that night.