The Lake Annette Trail

Pongo and I were invited to join a group of friends on the Lake Annette Trail on Saturday, June 14th.

We met in North Bend at the outlet mall parking lot and then carpooled to the trailhead.  We traveled along I-90 to the Asahel Curtis exit in Snoqualmie Pass.  Wendy, a friend I met while doing preschool assessments for the school district, is not only a talented occupational therapist, but also an avid hiker.  She plans frequent group hikes, though not all of them are always open to dogs, depending on park restrictions and group dynamics.  I was thrilled to be included on this particular occasion, as I like any hike that includes a lake or lake view.  The ultimate hike for both Pongo and I would be a summer one that culmiates in a lake swim.  However, I knew that was not in store for us this time.  Wendy had warned us that there was still snow on the upper portions of the trail and it was cold as we left our cars at an elevation of about 2200 feet. 

I quickly fell in love with this trail. From the parking lot, you could hear a rushing waterfall, although it was not visible. We began climbing an old logging road that was overgrown by forest. Though I had brought a lot of water in my pack, Pongo drank frequently along the way from Humpback Creek as it crossed our path multiple times.  This is a good summer hike for dogs, as there is plenty of water along the way. Typically, I have Pongo wear a pack and carry his own water in the summer.

 However, the arthritis in his back hips has progressed to the point that I don't want to add any additional weight to him anymore. At 13, his back legs have become unstable. I am having to be more cautious about the length and elevation of the trails we go on these days.  I think that at his age, I should do the heavy lifting, don't you?  Pongo trotted happily ahead with his mommy bringing up the rear most of the time in our group of four. It is amazing how quickly I got out of shape this winter.  While I normally swim with a master's team year round, the stress of the 2013-2014 school year made it difficult to get up for 5:30 am workouts.  At the same time, I have struggled to find motivation to run since Spring 2013 when the vet told me Pongo could no longer run with me.  Running is not the same without him.  I don't want to go by myself.  It's hard when you've had the same jogging partner for eleven years and suddenly he can't go with you anymore.   I found myself putting on a lot of unexpected winter weight that I was now determined to work off.  This summer I decided it's all about Pongo and me!  My goal is to find ways for us to enjoy spending time together outdoors.  I have a whole list of places for us to visit and am anxious to start ticking them off. We are open to suggestions from readers and friends, so please pass on your favorite dog friendly hikes by commenting at the end of the blog.  But I digress, for now, let's get back to the Annette Lake trail.

 This spring was one of the wettest on record in the Pacific Northwest.  For the months of February, March and April, the Seattle area had double the average rainfall.  In March alone, it received 8.41 inches of rain when the average is typically 3.51 inches.  This was evident in the many waterfalls we encountered along the way.  The switchbacks take you through the Humpback Creek Valley.  Working up a sweat as we climbed in elevation, I had taken off my long sleeve pullover, but as we neared the top, the temperature dropped and we began to come across patches of snow.  I stopped to put it back on when we neared 3600 feet on the moutainside.  This trail is rated as a medium (3/5) in difficulty and is 7.5 miles out and back. I was definitely ready to sit down and eat lunch when at last we reached Annette lake.  Pongo didn't hesitate for a minute, but went right into the water, lapping it up as he waded in the shallows near the shore.  We found a spot tucked away with views of the water.  It was breathtaking!  I found myself repeating, "wow" and feeling a bit ineloquent. We sat down on the ground amidst patches of snow, sitting on pieces of foam that Wendy and her husband pulled out of their packs.  I had packed a peanut butter sandwich for Pongo, and a turkey and tomato sandwich for myself.  Pongo was more interested in the smoked salmon that Wendy unwrapped.  One of these days, I thought, I'll have to bring Pongo his own salmon on a hike, as he clearly prefers that to peanut butter.  An old dog certainly deserves a special treat now and then!  As we ate lunch, I began to shiver.  It was chilly indeed.  As beautiful as the lake was, I was not in the least tempted to take a dip. I pulled another jacket out of my pack and put it on.  I was ready to get going. 

      As we left the lake and prepared for our descent, I took advantage of the outdoor toilet.  There is a sign pointing up a hill, and if you follow the arrow, you climb into the privacy of this wooded bathroom that somehow still feels exposed.  I smiled - it was a lot more luxurious than some of the toilets I used as a Peace Corps volunteer in Africa.  The wooden throne made chances of soling your feet less likely than squatting over a hole.  I was grateful for the amenities on this trail!

Pongo and I both showed signs of being tired on the way down.  I stumbled at one point and was relieved when I caught myself with my hiking poles before tumbling to the ground.  Thank goodness for hiking poles!  They really make a difference, especially when you are going downhill.  And I realized as my feet and ankles ached that it was probably time to replace my almost 20 year old hiking boots.  I think I've gotten my money's worth out of this pair.

I think this has become my new favorite hike!  I definitely want to come back a little later in summer on a dry, hot day when the water will entice me to take a swim.

Rattlesnake Ridge / Ledge

I'm going to say it is officially hiking season, though Pongo and I have been hiking for a few months. But this is the time of year we really get geared up.  I was thrilled when friend and school psychologist, Julia and her dog Zed invited us to hike Rattlesnake Ridge last weekend.  It is a popular trail that I have heard of, but never hiked.  Located in North Bend in the Mt. Baker-Snoqualmie National Forest, it is a quick 2 miles to Rattlesnake Ledge where there are spectacular views. Four miles roundtrip, it is easy to fit in and then return to the city for other weekend activities.

If you know anything about Western Washington, then you know there are no rattlers on this side of the state.  So if that gets you wondering how this mountain got its name, the story goes like this: Seattle pioneer Arthur Denny gave the area its name when a frightened road surveyor thought he was being attacked by a rattlesnake after hearing seed pods rattling on a nearby meadow.


Julia and I had planned to meet at 8:30, but since I had never been there, I ended up parking in the wrong lot 1/2 a mile down the road and then couldn't get cell service. After 10 minutes of waiting, I decided to drive a little farther and was shocked to find that the parking lot at the trailhead is enormous!  It was well after 9 before I found her.  Finally together, Pongo and Zed posed with Julia near Rattlesnake Lake, which lies below the mountain near the trailhead.  I was even more shocked at the number of people heading for the trail.  We saw families and groups of friends of all ages, boy scout groups and hoards of teenage girls.  There were dogs of all sizes from chihuahuas to pitbulls and German Shepherds, and oh so many Aussies!  And two Corgies - my daughter would not forgive me if I left out the Corgies.  (She has been asking for one, to which I give the typical parent answer: maybe someday.)

Pongo started out on the trail in front, but didn't keep the lead for long.  Afterall Zed is ten years younger than him at least! Julia and I chatted, but surprisingly not about work.  Usually it is so hard not to leave that behind.  When you work with children, there are kids you worry about and can't get out of your head and heart.  But on this day we talked about our own personal lives and of course, our dogs.  As we passed back and forth over the switchbacks crossing the mountain, gaining 1160 feet to the ledge.  I was surprised at how quickly we emerged at the top.  It was an easier hike than Little Si, which is a bit of a struggle near the top.  

  

We sat down for a snack of oatmeal cookies
 made by my husband and peanut butter sandwiches.  

From the ledge you can see Rattlesnake Lake below.

Views of Mt. Si and Mt. Baker can also be seen.

A trail led up this mountain ridge too,
but we did not venture up it today.

Julia and Zed relax at the top of the ledge

A couple stops to survey the scene.

What a beautiful hike! We didn't stay long at the ledge and quickly headed back down. The trail became more and more crowded as the morning disappeared. Julia and I were both glad we had come, but the trail felt a little claustrophobic the longer we were on the mountain.  I was sweating through my T-shirt and was thankful for the shade all along the trail. When we reached the lake again, Pongo stood for 15 minutes with his paws in the water, lapping up its coolness and quenching his thirst.  I sat enjoying the view on the beach, watching kayaks cross the lake. 

Rattlesnake Lake

I don't recommend hiking this on a weekend this time of year.  Go during the week or get there by 7 am.  At noon the parking lot was full and there were already more than fifty cars parked along the sides of the road to the park entrance.  But this is a must-see for hikers in Western Washington.  It is a unique place.   I am drawn to the views of the lake.

I am counting down to the last days of school. Now there are only four more days left.  Pongo and I are looking so forward to a summer of hiking.  Visiting old favorites and exploring new ones alike. Stay tuned!

The Gem of Taking the Road Less Traveled

Pongo and I left the house at 8 am yesterday and headed for Mt. Peak.  Pongo whined excitedly standing between the front seats and balancing on the emergency brake. It was overcast and 50 degrees, the quintessence of a Pacific Northwest Spring day.  It rained sporadically as I slowly climbed the mountain.  I was quickly soaked by rain and sweat, stopping to rest now and then.  There were not many hikers on this Saturday, but we still ran into some of Pongo’s doggie friends.  We saw Gunner, a Chesapeake Bay Retriever and hunting dog who stands a couple inches taller than Pongo at the shoulder.  They circled and sniffed their hellos.   Next, we ran into Max, an Australian Shepherd Pongo met a few months ago at the Bonney Lake Dog Park. We see Max and his owner climbing Mt. Peak almost every time we go now. They were excited to see each other, did some play bowing, jumps and twirls. 

Instead of going to the top like we always do, I decided to take a right instead of a left three-quarters of the way up.  I had heard that this trail went around the backside of the mountain to a road. Because the trail didn’t circle back to the main path, I had never explored it, always with the excuse of not having enough time.   But I didn’t feel rushed to get back home and decided it was a good day to explore.  This path was wider, straighter and gently sloped downward.  The ground was so wet that when I stopped for a drink, my hiking poles stood upright in the soil by themselves. 

 After climbing the steep incline of the main trail that consists of frequent switchbacks and quick gains in elevation, I was thrilled to be going downhill.  It began to narrow and branch off into other trails that jutted off into the woods.  I quickly realized that there was a lot more exploring that could be done on Mt. Peak than I ever imagined.   Many small trails spread out across the backside of the mountain.    Each time I came across a new path, I had to decide which way to turn.

Now I have never had a good sense of direction and I am famous for getting lost, even with directions.  I can have trouble driving to a location even if I have been there before.  Things look different to me at different times of day.  If I have driven somewhere in daylight, there is no guarantee that I will be able to find it at night. Once, Pongo and I got lost while hiking in the Shenandoah mountains and had to be rescued by a park ranger.  But on this particular day, I remembered the voice of a friend who came to visit me in Namibia when I was a WorldTeach volunteer.

Wendi Haugh was an anthropology student in graduate school who stayed with me for a week.  She wanted to do research on national identity among Oshiwambo-speaking people, and she was looking for a fieldsite (a place to do her work).  Oshiwambo was the Bantu dialect spoken by the Owambo people in Northern Namibia.  I took her to visit the rural homes of women I worked with.  One day we walked into the bush to call on a woman name Atanasia who lived a few miles away.  To me, the landscape all looked the same.  But Wendi, a hiker herself, knew something about survival skills.  She told me that you should periodically turn around to look at the landscape in reverse so you would recognize it on your return.  We took note of our footprints in the sand.  But much of the path Pongo and I took yesterday was full of pebbles.  I didn't see my footprints in the ground.  Instead, I broke off a branch at one juncture and placed the stick in a puddle to mark the trail where I'd have to turn.  At another juncture, I drew an X in the mud with one of my hiking poles.  

 Down the hill we went.  The narrow path opened up into a wide gravel one that looked like a service road. We began to encounter other hikers again, ones coming up from the backside.  Pongo walked along the edge of the road to avoid the thickest chunks of gravel.  Finally, we came to the end where a gate separated the gravel from the main asphalt road that circled the mountain. There was no parking lot, but people had left their vehicles along the road.

Yea!  We'd come out on the other side!  Now I could say I knew where the trails on the other side of the mountain were!  I felt excited.  This opened up many more options for hiking on Mt. Peak.   I now had an alternate more gentle path to follow on days where I didn't feel like climbing the steep one to the summit. 

Here we turned around and started back the way we had come.   This time on the way up, I walked into a clearing for a water break and discovered a memorial.  Pongo and I paid our respects then began our climb again.  I had noticed there were two older men who had stopped to chat nearby.  "Do you know who this memorial is a tribute to?" I asked.  I made the assumption that they were locals.  Mt. Peak always seemed to be a community mountain to me, that only nearby hikers in the surrounding areas knew.   And they were.

They told me a story about three servicemen from Ft. Lewis who died in a Black Hawk helicopter crash during a night training flight two days before Christmas, 2006.  They hit the side of the mountain in the clearing where the homemade memorial marks the spot.  They were members of the 4th Squadron, 6th Air Cavalry Regiment and were scheduled to be deployed to Iraq the next year. The crew consisted of 25-year-old Sergeant Thomas L. Clarkston, 32-year-old Chief Warrant Officer Patrick J. Paige and 33-year-old Chief Warrant Officer James E. Whitehead. 

One of the men who told me the story was a Vietnam Veteran who served two tours of duty himself.  I told him about my cousin, Phillip, a marine who was killed in Afghanistan in 2010.  Our conversation turned to talking about the difficulties of military service today and of the challenges servicemen and women face in getting adequate medical care from the V.A. 

I felt a little like my Dad, who was a newpaper reporter in the early days of his career.  He would stop and talk to anyone anywhere and get them to tell him their stories.  I was so shy as a child that I had difficulty talking to anyone, even people I knew.  If I were a child today, I would likely be diagnosed with social anxiety.  But as an adult, I have conquered the fears that haunted my childhood.  As I said goodbye to the gentlemen and wished them good day, I felt confident in myself, proud of my family heritage, and that I find in some ways that I am following in my father's footsteps.  The stories I hear and the people I meet are the gem I find when I take the road less traveled.

Our return hike went smoothly, as we easily found the markers I had left, retracing our steps with precision.  When Pongo and I reached our car on the other side of Mt. Peak, it had stopped raining.  We had begun our hike at 8:30 and it was now 10:55.  What a glorious morning with my best friend!

Snowshoeing Near Price Creek

Pongo and I were invited to go snowshoeing with friends last Saturday.  We met at 8:30 in North Bend at the outlet mall, then carpooled to the trailhead.  We bought a Sno-Park Day Pass at the North Bend Chevron.  I also purchased extra water and a lemon Luna bar for my pack as well.  We took I-90 over Snoqualmie Pass to exit 62 (Lake Kachess), then got back on the freeway traveling West in order to take exit 61 to Price Creek.  The parking lot was piled with hills of snow towering ten feet high or more.  A dozen trucks and cars were parked, some with trailers or ramps angeled off the back of the truckbed.  It turned out that Price Creek is popular for snowmobiles as well as snowshoeing. 

It took awhile for me to figure out how to put my snowshoes on.  I bought them as a Christmas present to myself in 2006 but had only used them a couple of times since.  There were five of us in our expedition - six if you count Pongo.  My friend Carola and her daughter, Crystal, Wendy and her husband Steve.  It was immediately clear to me that they were far more experienced at snowshoeing than I.  They wore all-weather gear and hiking packs that I was sure were filled with emergency supplies.  I had forgotten a water-proof jacket (what was I thinking!) and was only wearing hiking pants, a long-sleeved hoodie and a vest.  I had decided against my hiking boots at the last minute and opted for my running shoes instead.  Wendy loaned me an extra pair of gaiters to try and keep my feet and calves dry.  I felt a little embarrassed that I wasn't more prepared.

I tied a red bandana with white snowflakes around Pongo's neck so he wouldn't be mistaken for a bear or some other wild animal.  He immediately bounded ahead of me on the trail, staying with Steve, who started out in front of the group.  Pongo loves to be at the front.  Having  hiked with him now for twelve years, I knew he would circle back, keeping his eye on me, and keeping track of where everyone was in the group.

Though I will never know what breed(s) he is, I am certain there is a herding breed in him somewhere.  Up the packed trail we went. It was a beautiful, cool day but I soon worked up a sweat. The trail started out fairly steep although our directions said the elevation gain was less than 1000 feet.  After a half hour or so, I noticed Pongo pausing to stare into the forest.  I thought maybe he smelled or saw a wild animal.  But soon we could hear the whine of snowmobiles.  I put Pongo back on his leash.  He had heard the snowmobiles first.  As they neared, Pongo began to pull hard and I knew he would slip out of his collar soon.  He was scared of the loud machines.  I wrapped my arms around him to hold his entire body and in doing so, fell into deep snow. At the side of the trail, the snow was soft and several feet deep.  I soon discovered that my poles disappeared almost to the top of the handles in the soft powder.  I struggled to get up after the snowmobiles had passed.  It sure is tricky

We hiked for a couple more hours, then took a break for lunch. Steve left the trail and climbed up a hill to look for a good spot.  Everyone followed him, taking off their packs and sitting in the snow.  Pongo stood on the trail, barking at us, refusing to follow.  "You think he has some herding dog in him?"  She teased.  Yep!  Pongo seemed to be telling us we were supposed to keep to the trail.  I went down and put him on his leash, and only then did he follow me up the hillside.  He sat between Carola and I as we began to unpack our lunch.  Pongo shared a peanut butter sandwhich with me, as is our hiking routine.  He got REALLY excited, though, when Wendy pulled smoked salmon out of her pack. I readily accepted her offer to share, and juggled trying to put small chunks of salmon on the Ritz crackers I had brought and keeping Pongo's quick tongue from beating me to a bite.  Silly Po!  No smoked salmon for you!

Instead of continuing to the ridge which now seemed within reach, we decided to turn back and return to the parking lot.  It was starting to rain and I was quickly getting soaked.  Pongo took off at a trot, seeming to want to get back to the car in a hurry.  I wondered if his feet were cold, or if he was just tired.  Maybe the snow had aggravated his arthritis and his legs were starting to stiffen.

Back at the car, Pongo jumped into the back seat and lay down.  We were both wet but blissfully happy.  This is what it's all about living in the Pacific Northwest!  I love spending the day among trees, being with Pongo, staying on the move, enjoying nature and getting some exercise.  When Pongo and I moved from Washington DC at the end of 2005, this is what I had in mind.  Although we had hiked in our early city days together, I liked the idea of living near big mountains, thinking our lives would be full of endless hiking adventures.  But when we got here, I didn't know anyone who liked to hike.  I have been cautious about hiking alone since I have a horrible sense of direction and don't read maps well! I am so thankful to new friendships with those who share our passion for hiking!  Thank you for allowing Pongo and I to join in your adventures! 

The next day, Pongo and I slept for most of the day.  It felt luxurious to lounge about, napping and watching tv.  It's not often that I allow myself to do nothing for an entire day.  We are ready for another adventure in snowshoeing before the snow disappears for the winter!

      Carola stops for a snack mid-hike.

New Friends

I was scheduled to meet a co-worker and her dog at Little Si this morning for a hike.  Over the summer, she adopted Zed, a mixed breed, black and white spotted dog who looks similar to Calder (my sister's dog).  We have been meaning to introduce Pongo and Zed, but the start of school is always busy and the weeks have whizzed by. 

After a hectic school week, we decided this would be a good weekend for us to finally get them together.  We have had the most beautiful fall that I can ever remember.  It has been largely dry with mild temperatures for the past two months - extremely atypical for the Pacific Northwest.  The past week, however, the fog rolled in and stayed and when I got up this morning, it was raining. 

I feared Julia would cancel, but to my relief, she didn't.  You can't be a fair-weather hiker in the Pacific Northwest, or you'll only get to hike a few weeks of the year.  There were only a few cars in the parking lot when I arrived and to my surprise, Julia had not one but two dogs with her.  She explained that the black one, Oso, belonged to friends and that she was dog-sitting for the weekend. 

Pongo's motto is: "The more the merrier!"

Socialization is crucial for both humans and dogs.  Can you imagine being completely isolated with another species, never getting to converse with another human like you? Knowing this, I have always tried to give Pongo opportunities to be with other dogs.  Though it has been harder since moving to Washington state.  It often takes planning.  I live in a neighborhood where people who are walking their dogs cross the street when they see us.  The majority will not stop to let their dog say hello. There are many dog owners in Washington state that believe leaving their dog in the backyard gives them what they need.  Their dogs never leave the house or yard and only socialize with the family and whatever other pets are in the home.

Pongo, Zed and Oso bounded up the trail together.  They were all about the same size and looked adorable together!  As we hiked, I was struck by Zed and Oso's boundless energy.  They chased each other back and forth while Pongo trotted sedately, most often by my side or only a few yards ahead of me.  It is in these instances that I am reminded that Pongo is an old dog.  He simply could not keep up with them.  But he didn't care - he was happy to be outside in the cool, wet air.

 

 Julia gives the dogs water at the summit.

The fog was thick, obscuring the view of Mt. Si.

  

We lingered at the summit, taking time to eat a snack and water the dogs before heading back down.  While we had seen only a couple people as we neared the summit, on the way down we encountered many other hikers of all ages, as well as a fair number of dogs.

 

 

Eva poses with Zed, Pongo and Oso at the trailhead.

 

We finished the hike in 2 hours and 40 minutes.  I love it that Pongo and I can disappear into the woods, climb a mountain and then still have the whole day ahead of us.  After we said goodbye, I drove through North Bend and stopped to buy a big cup of green tea at a drive-through coffee stand. This has become another one of our rituals after cold, wet hikes in North Bend. After giving me my tea, the woman gave me a dog treat for Pongo.  Instead of eating it, he began pushing it with his nose, burying it in the sheet I'd spread to cover the back seat.  He lay down and went to sleep.

 

On the way home, we stopped at Mud Bay and bought him a bully stick.  When we arrived, I unwrapped it for him.  He lay down on the living room carpet and got right to chewing.  I swear he had a smile on his face.  Now that's a good day in the life of a dog . . .

 

Mt. Peak

Pinnacle Peak Park is located in Enumclaw a short 25 minutes from our home.  Called "Mt. Peak" by the locals, it is a popular hike in South King County, especially for those who are training to climb Mt. Rainier.  Pongo and I discovered this trail four years ago, and it has become a favorite since it is an easy one to fit into a busy weekend.  We often hike it year round, even in the winter when the trail is covered with snow.  Last summer, we regularly climbed it 1-2 times a week.  However, this year, we hadn't been there since March and we missed it.

On Tuesday, it was my wedding anniversary and my husband and I were planning to spend the day together.  But I wanted to get a quick hike in with Pongo in the morning, so we headed to Mt. Peak.  The mountain is a 256-acre of volcanic rock that juts out of the surrounding farmland.  We got there around 7:30 am and there were already seven or eight cars parked on the side of the road.  We said good morning to two women who were just finishing their hike, having already been to the top and come back down.  I turned the stop watch on on my runner's watch.  Pongo and I used to hike Mt. Peak with a friend of mine whose husband would run up the trail while we hiked.  Then we would run on the way down, trying to make the round trip in an hour.  I knew I wouldn't be able to make it in an hour today, but I wanted to see how long it would take. 

The forested trail is one-mile long, climbing 1000 vertical feet to an 1800-foot knob. Near the top you see some columnar basalt.  It is well-traveled - a popular family trail where you will encounter hikers with dogs or trail runners.  Half-way up, there is a bench to rest on, courtesy of the local Boy Scouts Troop. 

When we started up, it was overcast and cool. I put on my pack - more for added weight than anything else - and used the trekking poles my husband bought me one Christmas.  I enjoy using the poles for added balance and for the added arm workout. They have proved to be helpful when I have, at times, slipped on the way down.

 Pongo pauses on the trail ahead of me.  Maybe it was my imagination, but it seemed as though we were both moving a lot slower up the hill than normal.  Maybe I am more aware of him slowing down with age, but he seemed to walk or trot, instead of bounding up the side of the mountain.

 The first half of the trail is always difficult for me because of the swift climb in elevation. But it is worth it once you get to the top.

  

There are benches at the top in a small alcove in the trees.  You can sit to rest, drink some water, or eat a snack. We never linger here long.  In Pongo's younger years, he would have jumped up on this bench, but he was posed for this picture and is contemplating getting down.

 After a water break and a few pictures, we headed down the hill at a trot.  We stopped to look out between the foliage where you can see views of the White River Valley. 

Then phone in my pocket, I started running again. Pongo seems to love it when I begin to run - he likes the faster pace.  He will stop to sniff and fall behind, then have to run to catch up. 

We made it off the mountain in an hour and twenty-five minutes - not bad considering I was taking pictures for the blog.

Here is a blissfully happy Pongo on the car ride home!  This is what it's all about!  Now with a tired dog at home, I could enjoy the rest of the day with my husband!

Happy Hiking!

Greenwater Lakes

The thing I love about working for the public schools is that I get school holidays.  I cherish the summertime when I get to spend lots of time with Pongo.  Although I do work a second job at a nursing care facility, I generally get to work as much or as little as I want.  Usually, I work a couple weeks in the summer, a few days here and there spread out over ten weeks, covering vacations for other speech pathologists.  There is always lots of time for doggie adventure.

We explored yet another new hike yesterday, called the Greenwater Lakes. I met one of the teachers from my school at Wally's Drive-In in Buckley.  She brought her golden retriever, Bella, and we all piled into my car.  To reach this trailhead, we drove on Hwy 410 to the little town of Greenwater, just as we did a week ago for our hike to Snoquera Falls.  But this time, we turned left onto Forest Road 70 about a mile past town.  The trailhead is about 9 miles from there and is clearly marked by a large sign. 

It was a cloudy, cool day and to my surprise, was threatening to rain. I was unprepared for cold, wet weather and had forgotten to bring a jacket.  Luckily, the entire trail was forested and protected us from rain.  Pongo and Bella immediately charged off into the forest and we followed at a good clip to stay warm. 




We followed the Greenwater River upstream.  The trail crosses the river three or four times before it reaches Greenwater Lake, a long, shallow lake, after 2 miles.  This part of the hike is easy and quiet and we didn't encounter any other hikers on the way up.  This proved to be a good hike for late summer, as there was plenty of water for the dogs to drink and cool down in. 



     Greenwater River



Pongo enjoys getting his feet wet, and lapping up the cool, clear water.



We crossed the river on narrow log bridges where we had to walk single file.



Here Pongo climbs up the steps to cross one of the log bridges.

After a couple hours, we decided to take a break and sat down to eat the peanut butter sandwiches we had brought.  Pongo and Bella begged for bites and we rested on logs in the lush, old-growth forest. 

If you continue on, you eventually will reach Echo Lake, which is a seven mile hike from the trailhead.  We decided to save that for another day, and headed back down after going only a few miles.  I had goosebumps on my arms and had gotten chilled while we sat to eat.  I wanted to get going, and it would only get colder if we continued up the trail.

On the way back, we encountered a couple of hikers with big packs who were headed to Echo Lake to camp overnight.  I felt a little pang of jealousy, but did not envy the weight they were carrying.  Maybe one of these days we'll do an overnight hiking/camping trip.  It's certainly on Pongo and my bucket list!!

Hiking Little Si

Pongo and I have enjoyed hiking from the very beginning.  When we lived in Washington, DC, we went for frequent trail runs in Rock Creek Park, hiked Great Falls in Virginia, and explored the Shenandoahs.  Since moving to Washington state in 2006, we mostly hike in the I-5 corridor. 

Last summer, we discovered Little Si and fell in love with it.  Located in the Cascade Mountain Range, it is a shorter, easier version of Mt. Si, with beautiful moss-covered boulders and varied terrain.  Unlike Mt. Si, which is continual switch backs climbing in elevation steeply, Little Si's trail meanders up and down, left and right. 

It's funny how dogs sense an adventure.  Before I even got out the pack, Pongo began following me back and forth from the kitchen to the bedroom.  I can't mention the word "hike" or "walk" or "jogging" until we are about to go out the door, or he will start whining and jumping around in a circle.  For the first time, my husband, Del, accompanied us. I made breakfast at six a.m. and we left around seven, our bellies satisfied with fried potatoes, toast and egg.

In the car, Pongo stood up, panting in the backseat.  Del kept telling him to lay down, but Pongo paced, turning circles.  "He won't lay down," I said, "he's too excited." At least he wasn't standing over the gear shift, like he sometimes does.  In the past, I have tried different models of doggie seatbelts, without success.  Pongo always finds a way to get out of them, earning the nickname of "Houdini-Po." Because I am always driving, I don't know how he gets out of them, but he does.

By eight-thirty, we were on the trail.  It was raining, and I was already wishing I'd brought my hiking boots, but I had decided to wear my running shoes instead.  Pongo led the way, running ahead, stopping to look back frequently, to make sure we were coming.  We are both amazed at his energy.  He hopped over rocks, bounding up even the steep parts of the trail.  You would never know that he was twelve years old. 

It wasn't until we neared the top, that we saw his back legs waver, and a slight stumble.  It worries me.  It is hard to see him aging.  But watching him on a trail, he is at his happiest.  I can't deny him that, just because he's getting older.  Dogs belong in nature. 

Little Si's peak is at 1,575 feet.  When we reached it, the rain was coming down steadily.  Nevertheless, we sat down on a rock to eat a peanut butter sandwich.  There was one for each of us, even Pongo.  Hiking is the only time he is allowed peanut butter sandwiches, and I now make him one of his own instead of having to share mine with him.  Okay, I still share.  That's love.

On the way home, Pongo lay down in the backseat of the car and slept the whole way.  Once we arrived, I took him straight to the bathtub where he got a warm bath.  What a muddy dog he was!  After all of us had showered, it was time for a long nap. 

                                             A clean, tired puppy at home.  Happy trails!