Pacific Northwest Seasons

18 Hours in Portland

2012-02-13T23:10:00.000-08:00

Yea, it was a pretty quick trip. But my overnight to Portland last weekend was still as fun as usual. What's not to love about this friendly, walkable, charming, and uniquely hip Northwestern city parodied as Portlandia?

So it's raining lightly when I pull into downtown a little after 6 p.m. on Friday. But that's why we have raincoats, right?

I'm staying tonight at the Hotel Monaco, just a couple blocks from the Willamette River and and a block from Pioneer Square in the heart of downtown. Great location. I manage to find a meter spot on the street a couple blocks away, where I can park until 8 a.m. tomorrow morning and avoid expensive overnight parking garage fees.

As I walk into the vibrantly colored hotel lobby, someone is playing the baby grand piano with a fast-paced flourish. A group is clustered in big chairs by the fireplace with a couple dogs in tow. I feel like I've just walked into someone's stylish, spacious, comfy home.

Hotel Monaco's inviting lobby

Stepping into one of Portland's excellent and trendy restaurants at 7:30 on a Friday night without a reservation is dicey. Instead we head to Jake's Grill several blocks uptown, which has been serving steaks, seafood, and more since 1992. There's a reason they've managed to stay in biz amidst Portland's competitive dining scene: the food is consistently high quality and well prepared.

My wild prawns are huge, sweet, and succulent, and the side of broccoli is steamed to perfection. My sister's Kobe beef potstickers and blackened steelhead salad are equally divine. While I'm full, she indulges in a lovely berry cobbler a la mode with occasional exclamations of pleasure.

After a nice dinner, I leave my sister and brother-in-law to go meet a friend for a movie at the Living Room Theaters just a couple blocks away. Think modern, sophisticated, small-scale multiplex with state-of-the art equipment. Want a glass of wine or Scotch with the movie along with your freshly popped and exquisitely spiced popcorn? This is your place.

Later as we're walking back to the hotel to relax and talk, I have to stop and take a sip of pure, sweet Bull Run water at one of downtown Portland's vintage drinking fountains. I loved these when I was a kid, too, when the thought of buying bottled water seemed silly and bizarre.

For breakfast we wander a couple blocks over to Mother's and beat the usual Saturday morning crowds by getting there around 8:30. Bill Clinton smiles at us from a framed photograph at the front counter, arms around who I assume is Mother's chef or owner. Mother's feels like, well, Grandma's sorta fancy parlor. With my restricted diet right now, the personable waiter accomodates my special order (two eggs scrambled in olive oil with spinach and mushrooms, very tasty) without a blink. This is Portland(ia) after all.

Walking back to the hotel, we pass some of Portland's historic old buildings, like the Bishop House across the street from Mother's and the Dekum.

"Hey, I remember that building," says my sister as we stop to take a picture. "I used to pick up antiwar leaflets in an office there to distribute when I was in high school."

The Dekum

The Historic Bishop's House

Since my time is running out, I scoot uptown to spend an hour browsing at Powell's Books on the edge of the Pearl. Today I walk out with just two new books, which isn't bad for me. At noon it's time to depart. Just a quick dip into all the exploring, shopping, dining, browsing to be done here in perfectly progressive Portland.

What are you favorite things to do in downtown Portland?

Northwest Images, Views of Which I'll Never Tire: The Olympic Mountains

2012-02-04T18:31:00.000-08:00

To several million inhabitants of the Puget Sound region, the resplendent Olympic Mountains splayed across the western horizon enchant us on sunny days. Perhaps this view is what might have lured some of you transplants here?

I'll never tire of gazing at these jagged mountains, whose serrated peaks slice the sky for over 60 miles south to north. And neither do most of us who live or pass through here. One late winter afternoon I recall sitting in a downtown Seattle highrise meeting with otherwise no-nonsense scientists and engineers who all stopped to gape at a particularly spectacular sunset behind the Olympics.

On days like today, suffused with brilliant mid-winter sunshine that sends us Mossbacks searching for our long unused sunglasses, the snow-encrusted Olympics are particularly stunning. But then, some might argue that the peak viewing time of year for these peaks is a crisp fall day after the first major snowfall of the season. Or a bright and breezy spring day. Or any day, really.

One of the best places to view the Olympics is while driving northbound on the Alaskan Way Viaduct (slated for demolition, hopefully before it crumbles in a major earthquake). Unfortunately the viaduct is a terrible place from which to snap some photos, especially if you're driving. Better to go to a beach like Golden Gardens.

One of my favorite Olympic-viewing spots is from the deck of a Washington State Ferry, preferably mid-Sound from Colman Dock. But the Fauntleroy-Vashon and Edmonds-Kingston runs are also great.

And of course I can't neglect to mention the Olympic Sculpture Park. Just last night as I was driving past the park in the early evening twilight, the Calder sculpture with the dusky orange-rimmed mountaintops in the background was glorious. I wished I'd had my camera. But the image is burned in my mind anyway.

How about you? What's your favorite place to sit and sigh at the beauty of these mountains?

Nihonmachi Afternoon: Exploring Seattle’s Historic Japantown

2012-01-26T22:31:00.000-08:00

Did you know that Seattle’s Nihonmachi (a.k.a. Japantown) isthe most intact historic Japanese American district in the U.S.?

While anactive Japanese American community doesn’t live there anymore, it’s stillculturally important here in the Puget Sound region.

And definitely wortha visit.

Nihonmachi’s numerous old and newer buildings are scatteredacross a south-facing hill tucked on the southeast edge of downtown, in Seattle’sInternational District. It’s an eclecticmix of historic buildings with modern boutiques and galleries, Japaneserestaurants, and a hillside garden park. The destination businesses are centered on the block between SouthJackson Street, 6th and 7th Avenues South, and South Main Street.

Looking south on Seventh Avenue South in Seattle's historic International District

I can’t quite pin down why I’m so drawn here (and theInternational District in general). Isuppose for a variety of reasons—the historic charm of the low-rise brick and stonemasonry buildings, the sense of history the district evokes, the intriguingEast-meets-West and old-meets-new vibe, and of course some of my favoritebusinesses there.

Panama Hotel Teahouse
As I often suggest to out-of-town visitors, last weekend I met friends fortea at the Panama Hotel Teahouse up the hill on South Main Street. About 10 years ago thisserene space was renovated and reopened as a lovely teahouse in the oldPanama Hotel. With exposed brick walls andgleaming refinished wood floors, the teahouse is a relaxing spot to meet friends, reada book, write, or just enjoy the fine tea and maybe a delicate wagashiconfection made by Chef Chika Tokara in north Seattle.

Seasonal artisan wagashi by Tokara served at the Panama Hotel Teahouse

It’s also a bit of a museum. Framed black and whitephotographs of the district from the pre-World War II era line the walls, whenJapantown was a thriving community of Issei (first-generation) and Nisei(second-generation) Japanese Americans. As detailed in the bestseller novel The Hotel at the Corner of Bitter and Sweet, which features the Panama, the formerlybustling Nihonmachi was decimated when Japanese-American families were forced from their homes and businesses to internment camps here on the West Coast.

Photos from pre-World War II Japantown

The Panama Hotel back in the day

Cullom Gallery
Next door to the Panama Teahouse on South Main, petite Cullom Galleryfeatures contemporary and historic Japanese and Japanese-influenced woodblockprints and paper art. I’ve got my eye on one of artist Kristina Hagman’s 36Views of Mount Rainier prints, an ode to the famous Hokusai and Hiroshigeseries 36 Views of Mount Fuji woodblock prints.

Collum Gallery is one door south of the Panama Hotel Teahouse

Kaname and ManekiRestaurants
Maneki, which claims to be Seattle’s oldest restaurant at over 100 years, is just around the corner from the teahouse and gallery on Sixth Avenue.It has a bit of a hole-in-the-wall look out front, which is just as well. Thispopular spot is often crowded, especially on weekend nights. Yelpers rave about the black cod collar bone,but my tastes run toward the perfectly prepared soba noodle bowls.

Down the hill on the same block, but on busy Jackson Street,Kaname specializes in ramen noodle bowls (nothing like the cheap packaged kind)and other Japanese fare. Theinterior is decorated like an authentic old Japanese noodle joint. The effectis charming.

Stop in Kaname for a steaming bowl of noodles

Momo and Kobo at Higo

Right next door to each other at the corner of 6th andJackson, Momo and Kobo at Higo are destination shops. Momo’s friendly owner Lei AnnShiramizu was featured in Seattle Magazine for her greatsense of style, and Momo reflects her varied and impeccable taste. I’ve purchasednumerous gifts here, from an antique clay sake jug to an authentic Saint JamesFrench sailor shirt. Momo is part high-fashion boutique, part gift shop, and alwaysfun to shop.

Unique gifts and clothes with flair at Momo

In a nod to history, Kobo has maintained the original Higosign and some old fixtures from Higo’s 73 years as a family general store.Today Kobo sells exquisite artisan ceramics, woodwork, jewelry, prints, books, silkscarves, and more, with an eye to Japan. When in need of inspiration for gifts, Ialways find something at Momo or Kobo.

Kobo's has preserved portions of the old Higo store in their artisan gallery shop

Fuji Bakery
If you want a snack, scoot a block south of Jackson Street beyondthe Nihonmachi boundary to Fuji Bakery, named one of Seattle’s top ten newplaces to eat in 2011. This jewel of a small corner shop features exquisitepastries and baked goods prepared in a classic France-meets Japan style.Beautiful round sesame seed-sprinkled buns sit next to glistening fruit tartsand croissants in the display case. My personal favorite: the seasonal vegetable focaccio.

Get your fresh veggies in a delectable focaccio at Fuji Bakery

And how about you? If you're a local or have visited this part of Seattle, what are your favorite places?

When You Go

Click here for a map of the area. Be sure andcheck the Seahawks or Mariner’s schedules in the summer and fall becauseparking and traffic can get ugly in the I.D. on game days.

Snowy in Seattle: Subies, Sorels, and NOT Snowmageddon

2012-01-18T08:46:00.000-08:00

Whenever we get much of any snow here west of the Cascade Mountains in Oregon and Washington, our newscasters and local governments work themselves into a frenzy.

It's Stormwatch 2012!

With our many steep hills here in Seattle and Portland, and drivers inexperienced with driving in the snow (except us skiers), it really can get hazardous out there on the roads. Schools start late, close early, or don't open at all (to the delight of my niece); buses reroute or drop routes; and generally most of us hunker down at home.

Then we venture outside to play.

Snow days here in the western Pacific Northwest bring out the ebullient kid in most of us. The famous "Seattle Freeze" thaws a bit as people talk, laugh, and maybe commiserate or cheer with strangers about the weather. It shakes up our routine, cleans up the neighborhoods in a layer of white.

For me it may as well be another day because I work at home. But I'll sneak out for a walk at lunch in my Sorel boots, then maybe later head down in the all-wheel-drive Subaru to my go-to teahouse and mingle with friends. Tonight I'll throw some logs in the fireplace and be cozy and warm while the snow lightens the dark winter night.

How about you? How do you like to spend snow days, wherever you are? Have you met anybody because of the snow? Chime in below with your comments.

Happy winter!

Skiing the Summit at Snoqualmie: Early Does It

2012-01-07T21:53:00.000-08:00

Hey skiers and riders, sometimes do you just need to get in some turns but can't take a full, long day away for the joy? While there's nothing flashy or glamorous about skiing Snoqualmie Pass just an hour east of Seattle, it's easy in/easy out when you're short on time.

Here's a tip for some really quick access to skiing: Get yourself up to the Pass before 8:30 and head to the Silver Fir lift parking lot (east of the main Summit Central parking/base lodges). I consistently find a parking space in the front row just 20 or 30 feet from the lift. So it's not Crystal Mountain (or Alpental), but you're not slogging 20 minutes up to the base from the lower lots or waiting in the cold for the shuttle.

While I assumed the lifts opened at 8:30 a.m. like they do at Crystal, they actually don't officially open until 9:00. This past Saturday we parked right in front, bought our tickets at the warming hut, and got on our skis in front of the lift by 8:40. Nobody else was there (duh!). The friendly lifties let us scoot onto the lift anyway, and we had the slopes to ourselves for a couple runs. Whoo hoo!

After a few cruiser runs on the groomed corduroy off Silver Fir, we took the "Inter-Summit 90" crossover to Summit East. Personally I always enjoy this trail through beautiful evergreen forest.

Despite its slightly lower elevation, there are some fun little steeps and trees to ski through over at Hyak, especially since they moved the summit chairlift back over to the left side of the front hill and returned the lift to the backside last season. And it's generally less crowded because the ski school buses don't park there and it's the Nordic Center, where more mellow cross-country skiers abound and head off away from the downhill runs.

A little skating at the beginning of the Inter-Summit 90 Crossover

Yes, that's a Christmas ornament in the tree!

Looking across I-90 from Hyak toward the Alpine Lakes Wilderness

Another tip: Don't wear your new, light-colored parka on the backside lift. It was dripping muddy drops onto us when we passed under the lift towers.

Even though the Summit at Snoqualmie is the ultimate local ski area and will never be a destination resort, it still always surprises me with the beauty of its majestic alpine backdrop. Any day in the mountains is a good day.

Looking northwest towards Alpental

Moi having fun!

So we got in a good three and a half hours of skiing, got some freshies in the bit of untracked fresh snow over on the backside lift at Hyak, and were back in Seattle by about 1:15. Not bad.

And how about you? Have any tips to share about how or where you get in your skiing/riding fix when you're short on time? Thanks for your comments!

When You Go
Head east from the Seattle metropolitan area on Interstate 90 and you'll hit Snoqualmie Pass in about an hour if the roads are snow-free and you're not speeding. This season daytime lift tickets are $59.

Happy New Year, Happy No Drear

2012-01-02T15:19:00.001-08:00

While I'm a passionate Pacific Northwesterner, I have to admit: The contrast between my New Year's weekend in sunny San Francisco and gray Seattle was harsh this morning as I rode the Link light rail home from Sea-Tac Airport.

Even native Mossbacks have our moments of impatience with the dark, damp, chilly winter days. (Which is why we often leave for winter vacations to sunnier, warm climes.)

Now that I've been home for 8 hours and I'm parked at my favorite teahouse, which is warm and light and friendly, the dark skies and rain seem comforting again. ( Not that I wouldn't take blue skies, sunshine, and mild temperatures for a while longer.)

And so the new year begins.

Although in year's past I've made all sorts of health and fitness resolutions, this year I'm thinking more about precious time and using it as wisely as possible. Because really, right now, this very moment, is all and everything we have.

How about you? What are you resolving to do (or not do) in the year ahead?

Here's to a wonderful year ahead, in which every moment is fresh and new.

And more Pacific Northwest adventures!

And So This is Christmas

2011-12-24T15:46:00.000-08:00

And how are you celebrating this holiday season?

Perhaps you're an Aussie drinking white wine in the sunshine with family and friends. Or maybe you're huddled around an adobe fireplace in northern New Mexico waiting for the blizzard outside to abate. Maybe you don't celebrate the season at all.

Here in the Pacific Northwest many of us get outside for a walk or run in the woods before or after big holiday meals. Temperatures are mild, it's not raining (today at least), and the mountains are vivid on the horizon.

A man I passed on the trail today in Carkeek Park said he hadn't been back since leaving the region 47 years ago. He looked happy to be here.

As I was finishing my walk through the forested gully, a jet soared low overhead, no doubt on a landing pattern for Sea-Tac Airport 20+ miles south. I thought of all the people in that plane coming to see loved ones, and darn if it didn't give me a little lump in my throat. The holidays are like that--amped up emotions mixed with nostalgia and hope.

Wherever you are, whether you've traveled a long distance or are sticking close to home this season, I sincerely wish for everyone lots of love, hugs, laughter, propserity, and peace now and in the year to come.

Happy holidays from the Pacific Northwest!

Holiday Shopping in Ballard: Keeping it Indie and Local

2011-12-17T14:57:00.000-08:00

Despite my adolescent past as a mall rat, over the yearsI’ve developed an aversion to big box stores and shopping malls. Give me small stores that are charming,useful, and manageable.

Remember thatsweet little bookstore in the film You’veGot Mail that was driven out of business by the big bad chain store? That’smy kind of store.

Seattle’s Ballard neighborhood has several blocks of suchgreat little shops right on the street where you can hop in and out quickly (orslowly if you want to browse longer). Andsmall doesn’t necessarily mean more expensive.

Here’s a run-down of must-visit Ballard shops in aneighborhood that’s becoming a bit overrun with trendy restaurants. Head to Ballard for the feel of a true urbanvillage and support these quality small retailers!

Market Street

Just a few doors east of Ballard’s main intersection (Marketand Leary) is La Tienda Folk Art Gallery,which features hand-knitted hats, gloves, socks, lots of cool jewelry, fabrics,and more with an international, ethnic flare. Look for the frame-worthy hand-embroidered, colorful molas from the SanBlas Island of Panama and beautiful Woodstock wind chimes.

Woolly knit gloves at La Tienda

On the next block west are several more shops worth a visit. Cookiesis a tiny treasure of a shop that features everything to make and decorateperfect cookies. Owner Caryn doesn’t know of any other comparable shop anywhereelse.

Across the street, Romanzais the place for extravagant Christmas decorations, lotions, soaps, and ofcourse much more. This is one of my go-to shops for tree ornaments.

One of the beautifully decorated trees at Romanza's

A few doors down to the west is Annie’s frame shop, which also sells artsy cards, posters, andother interesting knick knacks. I always find gifts here when I’m in need ofinspiration. Then just a few steps away is Ballard’s prime indie bookstore, Secret Garden Books. Besides books, theyalso carry cool calendars.

For the foodie on your gift list, stop in Savour (west past Bop Street Records, which sells vintage record albums). You mightbe tempted to grab a tasty sandwich or gourmet mac ‘n cheese to eat there whilepicking up unusual imported and local foods like divine hot cocoas, honey fromTasmania, or fine Washington wines.

Treats from Italy at Savour

Ballard Avenue

Historic Ballard Avenue

Cross to the south side of Market street mid-block at thepedestrian crosswalk and angle down historic Ballard Avenue, which I think isthe most charming several-block stretch in all of Seattle. There are too many wonderfullittle shops on Ballard Avenue for me to list here without this post getting way too long, so here are some gems.

Pass several great bars, pubs, andrestaurants en route to Kavu,home-grown in Ballard. Kavu, which expanded their retail space couple yearsago, sells locally designed and made hip, casual clothes for guys and gals that are relativelyinexpensive. And they regularly have great sales!

After shopping for a spell, stop in Miro Tea for a relaxing break and sip some fine tea. And then pick up some tea or accoutrementsfor the tea drinkers on your gift list.

Tea lover's gifts at Miro's

Continuing down Ballard Avenue, you must stop in Curtis Steiner’s new, larger digs. Thisworld-famous, jewel box-like shop features exquisite jewelry, beautiful artisancards, and other unique hand-crafted stuff. Not cheap, but everyone needs a splurge now and then, right?

Curtis Steiner new location in the old Guitar Emporium

A couple doors down is d’Ambrosio Gelateria Artiginiale, where you might just need to indulge in the bestgelato this side of Italy when you’re buying gift certificates. Proprietor Marco d'Ambrosio's father Enzo, who is a master Italian gelato maker, helped Marco develop the business and gelatos. Check back often for their seasonal flavors.

Cross the street to stop in a string of cozy and lovelylittle shops. One of my favorites is Lucca Great Finds, an enchanting store designed to echo Parisian giftsalons of the 1920s and ‘30s. Want a paper cut-out of the Eiffel Tour? This isthe place. You’ll also find fine linen tea towels, soaps, beautiful cards, andsuch. Continue to the very back for a tiny hand-paved courtyard with rusticgarden ornaments.

Feel transported back to 1920s Paris at Lucca's

Next door is Camelion Design, chock full of quality home furnishings as well as some gorgeousjewelry around the front counter. Checkthe very back of the store for handsome leather purses.

Had enough of the oh-so-charming giftie stores? Go down almost to the end of the next blockto Second Ascent for theoutdoorsy/backcountry person on your gift list (or yourself, in my case). Withthe closure of Outdoors and More, this is now THE place for discounted outdoorsclothing and gear in Seattle. They getand sell samples from many top-rate brands like Mont Bell, Arcteryx, and even Patagoniathat are new but not quite so outrageously expensive. Get backcountry ski gear, climbing gear,snowshoes, bicycle gear, hiking boots, and lots of clothes. In the very back you’ll even find some usedclothes, which are a great bargain.

Venue features artist studios within their store

Okay, if you’re still reading, here’s a plug for one moregallery/gift boutique: Venue on 22nd Avenuebetween Ballard Avenue and Market Street is full of hand-crafted items made bylocal artists. Besides jewelry, thereare lovely photographs, artisan chocolates, and, well, you’ll just have to gosee for yourself. Venue also has studio space for artists , so you might get a chance to chat up an artist who made the gift you just bought.

Searching for the Fungus Among Us

2011-12-08T23:18:00.001-08:00

Sometimes you see the most amazing things when you’re payingattention. A Ballard birder I know sawfive orca whales (with a baby!) swim past the beach at Seattle’s Golden GardensPark a few weeks ago. Never been thatlucky.

But here in the Pacific Northwest, our forests and manypatches of earth even in cities are teeming with ubiquitous, otherworldly, andever variable fungi. We have thousands of varieties here lurking in darkcorners, under leaves, on decaying downed trees, and sometimes in your frontlawn. They especially love our damp climate here west of the Cascade Mountains.

Last weekend on my weekly hike through the forest trails inCarkeek Park in north Seattle, my niece and I ended up on a quest to shootmushrooms—with cameras.

“Wow, look at that!” exclaimed my niece, pointing out aflorid-looking fungus growing on a log beside the trail. But this was like aHalloween version of a floral display, dark gray with rusty-orange “buds” andweird fang-like spikes on their underside.

Now I’m the first to admit I don’t go hunting forchanterelles, morels, or other wild edible mushrooms, although I enjoy eatingthem. I leave foraging to the pros. And I’m not a true naturalist. I don’t know what the names are of thesefungi. But once we got started looking, it was like an organic scavenger hunt,a challenge to see as many as we could.

Moss-covered, decomposing downed logs were the best spots. Andthere the mushrooms were, gray and smooth, dark brown and in clumps, small and delicate,mossy green, biomorphic, with DNA somewhere between human and plant.

We didn’t touch any because, well, you never know. Some arehighly toxic, with names like Death Cap. When I was a kid, a group in Portland cooked dinner with some wildmushrooms they harvested. Four died that night and two needed livertransplants.

So instead we looked, found, and shot.

Can you name any of these?

When You Go

The Puget Sound Mycological Society has regular events andforaging trips led by experts. In the Portland area, check out the Oregon Mycological Society for similiar educational events and outings. If you want to explore further online, check out the Pacific Northwest Fungi Database out of Washington State University.

Skiing Crystal Mountain: Seize the Bluebird Days

2011-11-29T21:10:00.001-08:00

Mount Rainier from the top of Crystal's Green Valley chair

Usually I ease into the new ski season by starting out on mostlygroomed blue runs to loosen up and get my ski legs back. (Sound familiar?) But when the first daybrings blue skies, a foot of fresh powder, and avid skiing buddies who challengeme to keep up, I can’t resist pushing it. Even though I know certain neglected muscles will scream at me the next day.

Such was the case last Friday at Crystal Mountain, thePacific Northwest’s premier downhill ski area. Okay, I can hear you Bachelor andBaker skiers grumbling at me now, but c’mon. On OutsideOnline.com, former U.S.Mogul Ski Team member Mike Hattrup recently listed Crystal as number two of his five favorite ski mountains in the U.S. And as the dude who rode up the High Campbell chair with me said,

“Crystal is a skier’s mountain.”

How true. With bowl after bowl and seemingly endless routesdown steep and steeper pitches, many not officially designated runs, it’s amountain of well-kept and not-so-well kept secrets.

With November storms smashing into the Cascades every fewdays and the freezing level jumping up and down like a kid on a trampoline, Iwatched the weather forecasts carefully. Friday after Thanksgiving was the day to go over the holiday weekend.

The traverse down Kelly's Gap

I wasn’t alone, that’s for sure. But I still managed to find a few stashes ofuntracked pow in which to leave my signature, whooping with joy as I floateddown.

And I’ll never tire of the always stupendous view of Mount Rainier, just 20 miles distant, as you crest the ridge near the Summit Houseabove Green Valley. Rainier is, after all, the biggest, most heavily glaciatedmountain in the contiguous U. S. (although the second-highest, just shy ofMount Whitney). How many times can I take pictures of Rainier on a beautiful day? No limits.

The Big Kahuna of Cascade volcanoes

For November, the snow coverage was good (helped along by new snow-making at the top of Green Valley). Yea, I got one particularlynasty gash in the base of my skis on the southward High Campbell traverse, butPowder Bowl was in fine form for early season.

Also in fine form was Lyndsey, the Snorting Elk cookie-bakingmaven. I scooted into Snorting Elk Deliafter a great day skiing and snagged one of her freshly baked crocodile spice cookies. Hmmmm. Still the best around.

So get on up to the mountains, skiers and riders, and startyour ski season. Like my late friend andformer Crystal ski instructor compadre Dean Meinert always did, watch the weather and carpediem. Life is too short to spend those bluebird days indoors.

Have you gotten up yet this season? We'd love to hear about your best first-day-of-the-season ever in the Comments below!

When You Go

While Crystal is awesome, there are plenty of great placesto ski throughout the Northwest. Here’s a tip to save a little money on yourlift ticket: After buying your firstticket of the season, keep the plastic Go Card they give you and reload online at the Crystal website. You save $5 a day on your ticket and bypass the ticket boothslines. Just flash your card in front of the scanner at the base lifts. BTW, Crystal did NOT raise theirrates this season, as of last weekend.

Northwest Gratitude

2011-11-22T20:25:00.001-08:00

Autumn walk in Seattle's Carkeek Park

‘Tis the season again already, can you believe it?

Plenty of work, for which I am grateful, is keeping me from bloggingas much as I’d like. In the meantime, I’m challenging myself to list at least10 Pacific Northwest things I’m grateful for today.

So here’s my challenge toyou – please reflect for a moment and then leave a comment below with a fewthings on your gratitude list.

Here's my list, which just got me warmed up:

1. Carkeek Park in north Seattle, where I can walkin a lowland forest and see salmon spawning.

2. The Panama Hotel, Miro, and Zen Dog teahouses, fortheir fine tea and soothing ambiance.

Brewing tea in a gaiwan at Zen Dog Studio Teahouse

3. The sound of driving rain outside this morningwhen I was cozy warm in bed, and the sound of pouring rain as I write this.

4. Washington State ferries—love those ferry tripsacross Puget Sound.

Riding the Bainbridge Island ferry across Elliott Bay

5. The discounted new books at Powell’s Books indowntown Portland, where you can get wonderful cookbooks at more than half price off. (Or just Powell’s, period.)

6. Crystal Mountain’s South Back on a clear daywith fresh, cold snow.

Silver Basin in Crystal's South Backcountry

7. The fireplace in Timberline Lodge.

8. Sourdough Speaker series weekends at the North Cascades Institute.

9. Our remaining patches of old growth forest, maythey remain a sanctuary for all.

10. The craggy awesomeness of our snow-covered volcanoeson a clear day.

Glacier Peak

11. Our local organic farmers, bless them for theirhard work and bounty.

12. Crimson vine maples and fresh huckleberries inthe Cascades each fall.

Oh my, once I got started it was hard to stop.

May you treasure each moment and savor each bite. Happy Thanksgiving!

Northwest Thanksgiving Weekend Getaways: Historic Lodging, Fine Dining, and Outdoors Fun

2011-11-13T17:40:00.001-08:00

I just read an article in Bon Appétit magazine about exoticThanksgiving escapes to places like Buenos Aires, Argentina, and Toulouse in southernFrance. Really? I wondered if the author enjoyed negotiating busy airports that weekend.

While I’ve battled the airport crowds on T-day weekend trips to New York City andSan Francisco, my favorite holiday getaways have been exploring here inthe Pacific Northwest. Here are a fewtrips I’ve done that might inspire you, too.

Long Beach Peninsula,Washington
Late November is the stormiest, wettest time of the year in theNorthwest, and the coast gets the brunt of the storm fronts. How about heading there for the realaction?

Where to Stay - Ispent a relaxing Thanksgiving weekend at the cozy Shelburne Inn in Seaview closeto the ocean in southwest Washington. TheShelburne is the oldest continuously operating hotel in the State of Washington(since 1896) and a great launching point for exploring the peninsula’s beaches,cranberry bogs, historic small towns (like quaint Oysterville), or just readinga good book in your room.

Washington's ocean estuaries and coastline are typically gray and wet in November.

What to Do - We headedsouth along the coast to the Lewis and Clark National Historic Park (where wegot some of the miserable weather that drove Meriwether Lewis into what waslikely deep seasonal affective disorder) and another day drove up the peninsulato Leadbetter Point State Park. If you’re feeling adventurous andhave good rain gear, take your sea kayak and paddle out to Long Island inlovely Willapa Bay, where I spent one of the wettest nights camping in my life. Fabulous birding in this part of theregion.

Where to Eat - Wehad incredible meals while staying at the Shelburne Inn in the former ShoalwaterRestaurant, but the owners have moved and opened the Bridgewater Bistro inAstoria that looks worth a trip down from Seaview.

Mount Hood, HoodRiver, Columbia Gorge, Oregon
If you’ve read my blog, youknow I love the Columbia River Gorge, Mount Hood, and northern Oregon along theCascade Crest.

Where to Stay - Westarted the weekend staying at quirky and boisterous McMenamin’s Edgefieldin Troutdale after Thanksgiving dinner with family, then drove up to Timberline Lodge onMount Hood the next day for an overnight. Our third night was at the historic Hood River Hotel (yes, I keep on using that word historic, but it fits) after anice drive around the mountain and down through Hood River Valley.

Timberline Lodge boasts historic artisan works like this tile mosaic.

What to Do - Ifthere’s skiing anywhere in the Cascades in the early season, it’s atTimberline. I got in my first turns of the season and then thoroughly relaxedthat evening in front of the massive stone fireplace in the beautiful oldlodge. The next night in Hood River wewandered across the street from our hotel to the Skylight Theater Pub (wherethey also serve good pizza) for a movie.

Enroute back to Seattle we droveacross the Columbia River and explored the Washington side of the Gorge, with aside trip up to really historic and very rustic Carson Hot Springs. Theirspa offers massages and mineral baths in old claw foot tubs with water pumpedin from the river raging outside the windows. Rumor has it that the place ishaunted.

Where to Eat - Dinnerin Timberline Lodge’s Cascade Dining Room was fabulous—I had savory fresh papardellepasta with mushrooms, then a nightcap in the Ram’s Head Bar on the balconyoverlooking the fireplace. We also had an excellent dinner in the lobby restaurantat the Hood River Hotel.

San Juan Islands,Washington
Any time of year is a good time to head to the lovely SanJuans, but the islands are less crowded in the late fall and winter.

Where to Stay –Alas I don’t remember where we stayed on Orcas Island that trip, but more recentlyI’ve stayed at rustic Doe Bay Resort. In Friday Harbor on San Juan Island westayed at the Argyle House Bed & Breakfast, a comfy refurbishedcraftsman-style home just a couple blocks from downtown and easy walking torestaurants. New owners have taken over the place since we were there, but itlooks as lovely as ever.

Kayak along the Orcas shoreline off Doe Bay between November squalls.

What to Do - Drive or hike up Mount Constitution in Moran State Park on OrcasIsland for great views (or not, depending on the weather). When I was there ona T-Day weekend, a big raven greeted us at the misty summit. Or take your sea kayak and cruise the island rocky shorelines studded with starfish. The next day wetook an interisland ferry over to San Juan Island, where wehiked and explored along the west side of the island at Lime Kiln State Park. This park is one of the best places to spot orca whales from the land.

Where to Eat - Dinnerin Eastsound was wonderful at Christina’s, a pioneer in seasonal-regional food.Since then the waterside location has reopened as Allium, with a Pan-Asian flare, which is gettingequally good reviews.

Mount RainierNational Park
Late November usually brings heavy snow to the Cascades, and Mount Rainiergets some of the heaviest snowfall on the planet. Head to the mountain withyour cross-country or back country skis.

Where to Stay – Westayed at the National Park Inn at the Longmire Historic District, lower downthe mountain than more famous Paradise Inn. Open year-round, historic Longmireis casual and low-key but comfortable, and a great place to unwind in theevenings.

Mount Rainier from the top of Crystal Mountain.

What to Do - If there's enough snow on the ground – cross-country orbackcountry ski up around Paradise. If there's not much of a snowpack yet – hike, there are plenty of trails around Longmire or higher up.

Where to Eat – Inthe park this late in the year the options are limited. Longmire Inn has a decentdining room, where we had some good meals. They also serve a traditionalAmerican Thanksgiving buffet there. Click here for reservation info.

Okay, that's just scratching the surface of all the places to go. Do you have a favorite Thanksgiving weekend destination? Jump in the conversation by leaving a comment below!

Northwest Images, Views of Which I’ll Never Tire: Crown Point and the Columbia Gorge

2011-11-03T22:48:00.000-07:00

Looking east up Columbia River Gorge from Chanticleer Point

Every time I scoot down to Portland from Seattle, I try tosneak in a quick trip up the beautiful Columbia River Gorge. Growing up on the western edgeof this National Scenic Area was a gift, and I spent many days exploring the Gorge’strails and driving the historic Columbia River Highway.

Even if I’m short on time, which always seems to be the caselately, I at least go to Chanticleer Point (Portland Women’s Forum State Park)for the magnificent panorama. Then I usually drive down the old historic Columbia River Highway to Crown Point for closer views of the floodplain and up to Larch Mountain.

Cloud-covered Larch Mountain on the left

While there are splendid views everywhere you look in thisbeautiful world, this one never fails to make me gaze in awe upriver. Whetherit’s a sunny, rainy, snowy, or cloudy day, I see history—social, geological,and personal—as well as what’s in front of me today.

Sometimes I imagine what it must have been like to witness theepic floods from Lake Missoula that ravaged, scoured, and shaped the Gorge’sbasalt cliffs thousands of years ago. Or I’ll think about the Lewis and Clark Expedition traveling down the Columbia before the once mighty river was tamedby dams. The expedition members explored Beacon Rock, a huge basalt core of an ancient volcano, whenpassing through. (Beacon Rock is the dark lump in the background upriver just to the left of Vista House on Crown Point.) I first climbed Beacon Rock the summer before sixth grade, and there's a nontechnical route that anyone whose mildly fit can climb today.

Historic Vista House on Crown Point in foreground

Here in the Pacific Northwest we don’t get the array of fall colors that New Englanddoes, but there’s still time to catch golden hues of the bigleaf maples thatpredominate the western Gorge. One of mymost vivid childhood memories is driving past a wall of gold leaves lining theGorge on a crisp, sunny fall day.

So how about you? Do you have memories to share of the Columbia River Gorge? What are the views of which you will never tire, that draw you back again and again? Chime in by leaving a comment below.

When You Go
Hop in you car or on your bicycle and head up the Gorge.Here’s a link to a map of the historic highway, with the viewpoints where these photos were taken on the western edge. From Portland take the Banfield freeway eastbound, get off at Troutdale, then head east past downtown Troutdale up the Sandy River Gorge to Springdale, then to Corbett. Chanticleer Point is just past Corbett on your left. You won't miss it!

Hiking Mount Pilchuck: A Mountain of Firsts

2011-10-22T23:58:00.000-07:00

It all started on a cool, misty summer day when I was just nine years old. That day ever-cheerful camp counselor Marge led a group of girls from Hidden Valley Camp up Mount Pilchuck. Thus began my lifelong love of the mountains, hiking, and the verdant evergreen forests of the Pacific Northwest.

We began ascending through dense forest, then up a subalpine rocky trail, and finally scrambled over a pile of huge slate boulders to a weathered old fire lookout enshrouded in clouds on the summit.
We couldn’t see much past the big windows of the lookout, where we huddled inside eating peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. But I was hooked. What was out there to see beyond the whiteout surrounding us? I wanted to come back.

Historic Mt. Pilchuck Fire Lookout

Since then I’ve hiked up many peaks and along miles of trails throughout the Cascade Mountains and in far-flung places like New Zealand, Bhutan, and the Italian Alps. But Mount Pilchuck was my first. And what girl can forget her first?

Recently I had the pleasure of taking fellow blogger Tea of Tea & Cookies on her first hike in the Cascades to—you guessed it—Mount Pilchuck. I figured she might as well walk through a beautiful forest, enjoy dramatic subalpine scenery, and get spectacular panoramic views on this hike not much more than an hour from Seattle.

Tea has spent a lot of time hiking and backpacking in California’s Trinity Alps and Sierra Nevada Mountains, but is a relative newcomer to Seattle. Like a good outdoorswomen, she was well-prepared when I picked her up, even bringing sweet little homemade scones and a small jar of her peach-blackberry jam to share with me.

I, on the other hand, was not so prepared. As we neared the turnoff onto the access road from the Mountain Loop Highway east of Everett, it hit me. Another first—I forgot to bring my hiking boots!

The middle portion of the Pilchuck trail is extremely rocky. At some points along the trail you have to look for yellow arrows spray-painted on the rocks to stay on course. Regardless, there I was, in Mary Jane-style Keens with my twisty ankles, so I tightened up the straps and headed on up.

While the first part of the trail travels through lush forest, about a half mile on the trail skirts the edge of a massive clearcut that wasn’t there when I first scaled Pilchuck. Then we emerged onto the rocky upper slopes of this westernmost Cascade peak, occasionally passing remnant cables from the ski area that operated here in the 1960s and '70s.

Unlike many heavily forested western Cascade peaks, Mount Pilchuck is lashed with steep cliffs that drop precipitously from the summit and upper ridge. Every few years some unfortunate soul ventures off trail too close to a cliff edge and perishes, but not the guy pictured below, thank goodness.

We scooted up the trail, angling along the moderate western and southern upper slopes to the final boulder field, where it’s hand over foot to the ladder at the base of the lookout and then to the top.And time for jam and scones, which were delicious. (Thanks Tea!)

I never tire of climbing Pilchuck, regardless of whether it’s clear or cloudy. When the sun shines, the world drops away at your feet, with views stretching across Puget Sound to the Olympic Mountains, south to Mount Rainier, and a host of lesser Cascade volcanoes and peaks. When it’s cloudy, it’s still a beautiful landscape to pass through, rich with lovely native flora like alpine heather (P. emepretriformis), and a good thigh-burning workout.

Not bad for a first, huh?

How about you? Do you remember your first hike or outdoors experience, and how did it affect you? Join in the conversation by leaving a Comment below.

When You Go
Here’s a map showing Mount Pilchuck, which is about 12 miles from Granite Falls and less than a mile or so past the Verlot Visitor Center on the Mountain Loop Highway. After several miles driving up a dirt road to the trailhead at 3,100 feet, it’s 6 miles round trip to the 5,341-foot-high summit. If possible, avoid sunny weekend days because of the crowds you’ll encounter. You do need a Discover Pass for parking here.And don't forget your hiking boots!

Eating in Italy: The Sublime to Divine

2011-10-14T21:48:00.000-07:00

As I write this I’m on the plane back to Seattle from Rome. Sigh. I love my Pacific Northwest, but when in Rome…

“Enough of the mountains and canals, where’s the food porn?” says a friend on FaceBook when I post pictures during my Italian trip. After all, a trip to Italy is just as much about eating very well as it is about seeing gorgeous people, fabulous art, and picturesque towns.

So I oblige.

It’s nearly impossible to eat truly bad food in Italy. For starters, it’s all about what’s in season and grown and produced locally. As my friend Lisa, who lives in Liguria, says, “At the grocery stores they label what’s grown in Italy and what’s not. The imported produce section is very small compared to the Italian-grown section.” Most stores where I shop in Seattle label Northwest-grown produce and imported produce, but locally grown takes up the smallest space (except at our wonderful farmer’s markets).

I don’t claim to be a sophisticated foodie, but I do like relatively simple and well-prepared seasonal food. I thought about titling this post Pasta, Gelato, Formaggio, and Prosciutto because that’s what I ate a lot of in Italy—but then there was that sublime marinated and herbed artichoke. And the exquisite zucchini flan with carrot sauce, the raddichio-laced insalata mistas, the incredible vino, and more. Notice a pattern?

Pasta Parfetto

A plate of perfect al dente tagliatelle pasta topped with sautéed porcini mushrooms and cipolline onions (in season of course), a few shaves of parmesan reggiano, and a sprinkling of fresh Italian parsley had me raving “Spectacular!” to my Italian host.

“It’s just pasta,” he muttered modestly. But I’ve never had such a savory, delicious dish of pasta before. And I really don’t think it’s just because I was sitting at a lakeside café in the Alpine foothills on a lovely autumn evening. Then there was dessert.

Another night our host Mario whipped up a quick meal of cinghialle ravioli al burro e salvia (fresh wild boar ravioli coated lightly with butter and sage—it’s hunting season in Italy for cinghialle). Again, spectacular!

Much of the pasta served by the Italians for Italians (and us outsiders lucky enough to eat places where the locals eat) are very simple but perfectly executed. A fresh rigatoni with sausage, pepper, and pecorino cheese was just sprinkled lightly with ground sausage and cheese. Very satisfying. No big chunks of meat or heavy cheese you’d often find in North American Italian restaurants.

Pizza Alla Romana

The farther south we traveled, the more divine the pizza tasted. Yesterday in Rome I shared a Pizza Alla Romana, a thin-crust pizza topped with a light tomato sauce and olive oil; fresh buffalo mozzarella, arugula, and tomatoes; and shaves of pecorino. Superb. As I slowly chewed eat bite, I closed my eyes to savor and remember the taste of Rome.

Gelato e Sorbetto

Italians love their gelato, and so do I. Artisanal gelaterias throughout Italy make gelato and sorbetto fresh daily with seasonal ingredients. Each flavor captures its essence in every creamy bite. One hot day in Venice was a three-cups-of-gelato day—my favorite there was the icy pink grapefruit and Italian plum sorbetto combo.

But then I can’t forget the fresh grape, hazelnut, and chocolate combo in Novara, or the pistachio and amaretto in Manarola along the Cinque Terre, and the apex of my gelato experiences: the transcendent raspberry, peach, and blueberry sorbetto at famous Giolotti in Rome.

Rustic Roasts

So it wasn’t all pasta and gelato. At historic La Campana in Rome, where we dined on a tip from a friend (thanks Barry!), the succulent roasted baby pig with potatoes was superb. As my friend Jenifer said, “If I was a cat, I would be purring right now.”

The rustic manner in which the pork was served, with hunks of meat still on bone tucked inside a layer of crusted fat, sent me to an earlier era, perhaps a few centuries ago. I’m told La Campana is Rome’s oldest continuously operating restaurant, although some wonder if that’s just urban myth.

So while I am glad to come home to the Northwest to catch the end of the apple harvest, I gotta hand it to the Italians. They know how to eat. I hope you are able to enjoy such culinary splendor too.

When You Go

In case you make to Italy, here’s a list of some of the places I mention above:

Pasta (primi) and entrees (segundi): Ristorante Imbarcadero in Pella on Lago d’Orta north of Milan, where I had the porcini tagliatelle.

Trattoria Monti in Rome, where I got the rigatoni with sausage and beautiful artichoke contorni, which has a sophisticated neighborhood cafe vibe and is frequented by Roman regulars.

Osteria Cinghialle Bianco in Florence, opened by a British ex-pat in a building that dates to the reign of King John. We had fresh roasted cinghialle there with polenta, hmmm.

Also La Campana a few blocks north of Piazza Navona in a side alley is a popular standard with both tourists and Romans. Don’t go too early (before 9) if you don’t want to be dining in a room full of Americans.

Trattoria Romana is an unassuming place we just stumbled on near the Tiber River in Rome, where we had the wonderful pizza outside in a stone-covered courtyard.

I’d like to recommend my friend Lisa’s home near Sarzana and her amazing cooking, but sorry!

Gelati:

In Venice, my favorite was the Gelateria Artigianale Le Mele Verde. Wonderful, unusual flavors and a really nice proprietor. My credit card fell out of my wallet there and he ran outside the shop to find me on the street and return it. La Borsa, right off the Piazza del Republico in Florence, is expensive but excellent. I had been there when I was in college, and found it again many years later. I provide a link above to Giolotti in Rome. Be sure that the gelateria sign says “artigianale” to ensure they use the freshest, best-quality ingredients.

Hiking Another Northwest: Italy’s Valsesia, Val Vogna, and Spectacular Alpine Scenery

2011-10-06T15:26:00.000-07:00

Occasionally I do stray outside the Pacific Northwest. I'm currently enjoying the marvelous outdoors, people, and cuisine of Italy.

“You’re walking on history,” exclaims Mario as we start up the worn and rustic stone trail. Here in an impossibly picturesque valley in the Piemonte region of Northwest Italy, we’re blessed with a beautiful autumn day for a hike and a most gracious host.

“People traveled along this route 700 to 800 years ago from France and Switzerland in times of famine,” Mario tells us. Vestiges of ancient Walser villages and culture remain here, reminders of a Germanic people who migrated to the steep Alpine valleys of present-day Northwest Italy.

We started our hike today after driving to the end of the winding road that switchbacks up Val Vogna from the village of Riva Valdobbia in Valsesia (Sesia Valley), a few valleys northeast of more famous Val d’Aosta. En route to Lago (Lake) Larecchio, we’ve passed a small cluster of former Walser homes and a small stone church first built in 1433, and crossed a centuries-old stone bridge built by Napolean's soldiers. History and evidence of human habitation and use, past and present, permeates the Alps.

After an hour hiking up past streams and waterfalls, through sloping pastures full of grazing bruno alpina (brown alpine cows), and a larch forest with views of Corno Bianco peak, we arrive at a large meadow. “This used to be a much bigger lake,” says Mario as we walk along a gentle stream that meanders through the Alpe Larecchio meadow, interspersed with a few shepherd summer homes. Small trout dart through the clear water. Above craggy alpine peaks pierce the skyline.

Beyond a small rise lies a much smaller alpine lake, where we plop down for a picnic of delicious local Toma del Maccagno and Gorgonzola cheeses, sausage, and bread. It’s the cusp of autumn, and the shrubs and larch trees lining the vivid blue-green lake are just starting to turn gold and crimson. No one else is here at this postcard perfect setting but us—for a little while, our own small slice of paradise.

“My life is in Novarra,” says Mario, who lives there in the plains west of Milan with his family and owns a small business, “but my heart is in this valley.” As a gal whose heart is in the Cascade Mountains of the Pacific Northwest, I understand exactly what he means.

Yesterday Mario took us on a rigorous hike up the end of the Valsesia in the Parco Naturele Alta Valsesia. Our trek started on a stone road built during World War II, then continued past slopes full of brown cows and up a glacier-scoured slope above timberline to a slate-roofed mountain hut (Rifugio Barba Ferrero). For much of the hike our soundtrack was the sonorous ringing of cowbells.

Although the clouds lowered and obscured our views of the snow-covered peaks above of 4,000+-meter (15,000+ feet) Monte Rosa, we did catch glimpses of a large receding glacier just a few hundred feet above. “When I was a boy, this glacier extended much lower,” Mario told us. Climate change is very visible in the Alps, where glaciers have retreated back up many mountains.

Along the way, I noticed similarities to my own Cascades—stinging nettles, larch trees, many similar wildflowers—and some interesting differences. On the way down from the rifugio, Mario stopped to pick some wild berries and offered them to me: raspberries, exactly like those cultivated in my home state of Washington but much smaller and sweeter.

We’re lucky to be here when an unusual early fall heat wave is covering most of Europe, bringing us warmth, sunshine, and perfect hiking weather. Life is sweet here in Northwest Italy!

When You Go

The Sesia Valley is less visited and more low-key than the well-known Val d’Aosta, which to me made it an ideal destination. If you go, be sure and stop by da Mario’s pub in old Riva Valdobbia for some beer and miaccia—a local flat bread folded over fresh regional cheeses and prosciutto, much like a quesadilla familiar to North Americans. Also stop by Pedemonte, a large historic Walser village with a museum, near Alagna, a ski town.

We hiked the trail number 1 to Lago Larrechio, starting at the Oratory of San Antonio in the Val Nera (Black Valley) portion of Val Vogna, a gain of about 1,300 feet in a few miles. The first day we hiked trail number 7 up to Rifugio Barba Ferrero, covering about 5.5 miles and gaining 2,200 feet in elevation.

You need hiking boots or sturdy trail runner shoes because the trail can be muddy and quite rocky in places (plus you’ll likely be dodging cow manure on the lower portion of the trail). During the summer and on weekends into October you can purchase lunch at the rifugio. Be sure and bring plenty of water, although we drank directly from some of the streams higher up that Mario knew were safe.

A Little More About Me: Overcoming Adversity

2011-10-02T14:40:00.000-07:00

I'm on the road and haven't been able to add a new post in the last week, so until I get better Internet access, here's a link to a guest post I wrote recently for professional ski patroller Kim Kircher's great blog.

With all the hiking and skiing that draws me outside in the Pacific Northwest, I've had to struggle at times to be able to get out and enjoy it. I hope you enjoy the post and visit Kim's blog often, too!

More soon from the road!

Ciao!

Stalking Seagulls: A Rare Visitor from East Asia

2011-09-25T00:20:00.000-07:00

“It’s not always this easy,” laughs Ian Paulsen, nature blogger and avid Bainbridge Island birder. We just pulled off of Marine View Drive to the Dick Gilmur Restoration Shoreline and Kayak Launch along Commencement Bay, and there it is.

Napping on a log boom about 50 yards offshore with the local seagulls is a “mega-rare” bird in Washington state: a black-tailed gull that strayed a tad too far from home, which is Japan or somewhere else in East Asia.

Seattle birder Kevin Aanerud, who graciously let me use the photo above he took of the rare gull, has a spotting scope set up at the park and aimed right at the gull. “Have a look, it’s sleeping right now.”

My sister Vic and I take turns peeking through the big lense on a tripod. I have to admit, for a seagull it’s cute, with a black tail the curls up at the end like an apostrophe. For these hardcore birders, though, it’s not about cute. It’s about spotting rare and unusual birds to add to their life list.

A few other people show up while we’re here. Word has spread fast among the Puget Sound area birding community that the rare gull has been hanging out here in Tacoma for the last week.

Armed with expensive binoculars, fancy spotting scopes, and cameras with lenses the size of an elephant’s trunk, the birders are a friendly, nonchalant bunch.

Suddenly nonchalant morphs, and a frisson of excitement grips the group. “It’s woken up and standing now!” cries someone. Now everyone can get a better view of the gulls’ distinguishing marks, like the red on the tip of its beak.

While it’s cool to see such a rare bird here, the momentousness of the occasion is probably lost on me since I’m not really a birder. I’m just enjoying the beautiful warm morning, the many seals popping their heads up above the blue water surface, the black cormorant shaking a struggling salmon in its long thin beak.

Since we’re on a tight schedule, after observing the black-tailed gull for a while we head north to stop by Dash Point State Park and check out the Bonaparte's gulls. This scenic park on Puget Sound has a broad stretch of beach at the bottom of a forested gulch. I really wish we could just stay here all day, squishing our toes in the sand and finding sand dollars and other shells.

When You Go

We saw the black-tailed gull from the Dick Gilmur Viewpoint and Kayak Launch on Commencement Bay. Dash Point State Park is off SR 509 a couple miles north of Brown’s Point.

Seattle's Phnom Penh Noodle House: Excellent Food, Remarkable Chef Owner

2011-09-21T09:42:00.000-07:00

Sam (Seng) Ung cries quietly, dabbing his eyes with a crumpled tissue, as Tom McElroy reads aloud a harrowing passage from Sam’s book I Survived the Killing Fields. If you want the epitome of someone crying with dignity, Sam’s the man.

I’m at the Wing Luke Museum in Seattle’s Chinatown/International District, just a few blocks from Sam’s restaurant Phnom Penh Noodle House, for the book reading. A few weeks ago I wandered past the restaurant and noticed a big sign in the window about Sam’s book. Intrigued, I went inside and bought a copy from his lovely daughter Dawn, who works in the family business.

Although I had plans to meet friends for lunch elsewhere in the I.D., I decided to come back for a meal soon. Who can resist a wonderful bowl of noodles?

I noted the date of Sam’s next reading and plowed through the book—a quick but sometimes difficult read, with a few flashes of humor. (When he was new to America and cooking in a burger joint, the waitress gave him an order for a burger but told him to “hold the onion.” How, Sam wondered, was he supposed to cook a burger while holding an onion?)

When I was a carefree American youth, Sam was living through the insanity and Hell on Earth that was Cambodia during the Khmer Rouge regime of the late 1970s. He writes of being captured and interrogated by Khmer Rouge soldiers while out trying to find food for his family, seeing people around him murdered on a whim, watching family members die of malnourishment and untreated ailments, and much more. It goes on and on, with scenes of terrible suffering coupled with Sam and his family’s amazing resilience and endurance.

Sam is standing at the entrance to the museum in jeans and a T-shirt when I arrive for the book reading. As I introduce myself and shake his hand, I immediately sense a warm, gentle, and welcoming man.

After Tom, Sam’s collaborater-writer, finishes reading, someone asks Sam, “Does this hit you every day as you work and live?”

Slowly, he nods his head yes. “I’m sad every day about the camps.”

But he says he got through that time by looking on the bright side, looking forward. One valuable distraction for him was writing down recipes he picked up from watching other cooks as well as his own concoctions. Sam had cooked at his family’s restaurant in Battambang, Cambodia, as a teenager, and dreamed of having his own place some day.

Which brings us back to the noodles. In 1987 Sam opened his noodle house, the first Cambodian restaurant in Seattle, 7 years after arriving as a sponsored refugee. He's now a respected local chef. Well-known Seattle chef and restauranteur Tom Douglas brings his interns to visit Sam, who also happens to be a master fruit carver.

My cousin and I dine at Phnom Penh Noodle House a day after the book reading. We both order the Battambang vegetarian noodle bowl, which is a bargain at only $5.99 for a huge bowl of thin rice noodles in a savory-spiced sauce topped with a hard-boiled egg, ground peanuts, cilantro, bean sprouts, and pickles. My cousin adds fried tofu to his order.

One of Sam’s three daughters notices me staring at my big bowl. “Is this your first time here?” she asks. When I say yes, she tells me to mix and stir to blend it all together. Good advice. I uncover more sauce with the noodles at the bottom of the bowl. I can only finish half and have a great noodle breakfast the next day.

Sam’s petite, youthful wife Kim is also working at the restaurant, and it’s hard to believe she is a grandmother with three grown daughters. Strong family ties is a major theme in Sam’s book, and it’s evident at the restaurant, too.

For a man who witnessed the worst of humanity, he’s a man of inspiring humanity. As Sam concludes in his book, “We have to remember we are all human, and everyone on this planet needs each other and we are all connected…We need to learn to forgive each other. Along with forgiving, we have to learn to respect others.”

Amen.

When You Go

Phonm Penh Noodle House is on King Street, just a block south of Jackson, the main street that bisects the I.D. Click here for a map and directions. Sam is there cooking every day except Wednesdays.

Majestic Mt. Rainier: Hiking to Mt. Fremont Lookout

2011-09-15T13:24:00.000-07:00

During our all too brief stints of beautiful weather here in the western Pacific Northwest, we Northwesterners dash outside in a manic frenzy. So of course I had to get out and play in the great outdoors last week with a string of warm sunny days—my destination was Mount Rainier National Park, just a 90-minute drive south of Seattle.

My friend Don and I drive up to Sunrise, a complex of historic old wooden buildings on the northern flank of the mountain and starting point for many great hikes. And at over 6,400 feet in elevation, we’re already high enough for spectaculars views without even getting out of the car.

We’re headed to the Mt. Fremont fire lookout that sits on the prow of a ridge above Sunrise, one of four old fire lookouts still remaining in the park. This 5.5-mile roundtrip hike is fairly easy, with only 800 feet of gradual elevation gain along well-maintained dusty and rocky trail.

At first the trail is paved, but not for long. Soon we stroll past meadows strewn with alpine flowers, very late this year. Purple lupine, Indian paintbrush, and lots more cheerful and sweet blossoms line the trail.

The trail along Sourdough Ridge towards the mountain is relatively flat. Although it's a weekday, we still see numerous other hikers out today.

After passing Frozen Lake, which is not frozen but is roped off to keep visitors away, we come to a junction at 1.5 miles. Instead of continuing up the mountain towards Burroughs Mountain (and close-up views of glaciers), the Mt. Fremont trail forks off to the right through a large meadow, away and then parallel to the mountain, before angling up a rocky ridge.

Topping out just above the lookout, I scramble to the highest point before being waved away by some park rangers. “Please get down a ways, we’ve got a helicopter coming in for some pickups,” they shout.

Besides the incoming helicopter, there’s also an unwelcome welcoming committee as we sit down to have lunch—vicious mosquitoes. I foolishly didn’t bring bug juice, thinking it would be too late in the season. Wrong!

And then there’s the very aggressive chipmunk/ground squirrel, which at first seems cute. But after he runs up Don’s back, bites a big hole in my sandwich bag, and crawls into my pack, cute morphs into pesky.

From up here we look right down to Grand Park, a volcanic plateau traversed by the Wonderland Trail that circumnavigates Rainier. Beyond we can see the Olympic Mountains across Puget Sound, but due to some forest fire haze Seattle is not visible.

In front of us Mount Rainier looms spectacular and awesome in the truest sense of the word. We can clearly see huge crevasses gouging the massive glaciers, thousands of years compressed into these icy tongues snaking down the mountain face. (Factoid: Mount Rainier’s glaciers cover more area than all other Cascade volcanoes combined.)

Ambling back down brings a whole new vista of gorgeous views of the eastern flank of Rainier and its meadows. Right now there’s an odd juxtaposition of summer’s peak wildflowers along with shrubs turning autumn crimson.

Our hike took just about three hours, just like the park guide says. And if you’ve read my blog, you know I usually describe where to grab a treat on the way home. This trip we stop at Wapiti Woolies in Greenwater for ice cream cones out back on the deck. Don was bummed he didn’t notice the (famous) huckbleberry milkshakes until after he already ordered his cone. Next trip!

When You Go
The road to Sunrise is easily accessed from the White River entrance to Mount Rainier National Park, east up Highway 410 enroute to Chinook Pass. The road usually closes by the end of October, some years earlier, depending on the snowfall. Here’s a link to a map of the Mt. Fremont Lookout trail.

Northwest Flavors: Late Summer Fruit Tart

2011-09-11T21:10:00.000-07:00

As a girl I never understood what all the fuss was about birthday cakes—or any cake for that matter. Sticking candles into a delicious fruit tart or pie would have made much more sense to me.

My love of fruit baked in pastry or a good crust probably started with my Swedish grandmother’s wonderful loganberry, Marionberry, and boysenberry pies, made with fruit from her garden. We grandkids would pick fat, sun-kissed berries growing just a stone’s throw above the beach on Puget Sound, and in return we’d get to savor warm pies with her perfect flaky crusts. She managed to capture the peak of summer in her sweet-tart treasures baked with love.

Sad to say, but I’ve never had the patience to master the art of achieving excellent pie crusts. I have, however, made some good fruit tarts and galettes over the years. This summer a friend introduced me to a new twist on a fruit tart, which I’m happy to share with you here with her blessing. [Note: a commenter reminded me that this recipe is technically more a clafoutis than a tart. I stand corrected!]

On a warm summer night over in Wenatchee, tree fruit central of the Pacific Northwest (a.k.a., the Apple Capital), Lesley whipped up a beautiful cherry tart topped with a sugary-crispy crust. As her sister jokes, Lesley is like a fine restaurant with a very limited menu. “I have a few things that I make very well,” she modestly says. Don’t be fooled. She does pretty much everything very well.

What’s especially tasty about this confection is the wonderful crust that develops during the baking process. After baking a hand-formed buttery crust in a tart pan or springform pan, pile the fruit of your choice in the center, and then simply pour a blended mixture of eggs, sugar, flour, and a touch of salt over the fruit.

We had this with dark cherries, but I’ve since made it with a plum-cherry mixture. With a late growing season this year, blackberries, nectarines, and peaches would be wonderful as well right now. Or any frozen fruit any time of year.

Lesley’s Fruit Tart (8” round)

Crust: 1 C flour, 1/3 C powdered sugar, and 1/2 C butter

Pulse together in food processor (or mix with pastry cutter) until mixed and forming a pea-sized crumb. Pat with hands into round tart pan or 8” springform pan (removable bottom). Bake in 350-degree oven for 12 minutes.

Innards: 2 C chopped fruit, 1/4 C flour, 1/4 tsp salt, 2 eggs, 1 C sugar

When the crust has finished prebaking, evenly spread chopped fruit over tart crust. (Do not pile fruit close to outside edge.) Put flour, salt, eggs, and sugar into food processor and pulse until pale yellow and creamy. Pour this mixture evenly over the fruit, being careful not to pour on the edge of the crust or overfill. Bake for another 40-45 minutes. Let cool a bit (5-10 minutes) and loosen tart from edge of pan with a knife. Remove pan sides. Serve plain, with ice cream, or whipped cream, and then enjoy with friends or family.

For 10” pan, multiply recipe by 1.5. For gluten-free recipe, substitute rice flour for wheat flour.

My Baking Notes

So when I baked this, it didn't turn out as beautifully as Lesley's, which is pictured here. My oven runs hot, and I took it out after only about 30 - 35 minutes because it was getting dark. To cover it up and to make it look prettier, I generously sprinkled powdered sugar on top through a sieve. I also used a tart pan instead of a springform pan and whole wheat pastry flour, which gave it a slightly more rustic crust.

Bottle Beach State Park: Miles of Mudflats and Prime Birdwatching

2011-09-06T23:33:00.000-07:00

Hollywood is going birdwatching this fall, so how about you? Although the Steve Martin/Owen Wilson/Jack Black movie The Big Year was partly filmed east of the Cascade Mountains here in Washington, Grays Harbor on the Washington coast is our major birdwatching destination. Did you know that every year over a million migrating birds stop by Grays Harbor to chow down, party, and rest up on their way north and south?

The fertile estuaries around Grays Harbor make this area an important stop on the Pacific Flyway for thousands of birds migrating from the Arctic down to Central/South America and back. While more birds stop by Bowerman Basin/Grays Harbor National Wildlife Refuge on the north harbor, many also swing by the Ocosta area in the south harbor.

Bottle Beach State Park, which lies on the site of former 1890s boom-bust town Ocosta by the Sea, has recently been reclaimed for birds and other creatures that live or stop by the immense tideflats. According to Grays Harbor Audubon, Bottle Beach is best for viewing mudflat shorebirds like plovers, dowitchers, dunlins, and sandpipers, along with bald eagles and peregrine falcons.

I stop by Bottle Beach on a brilliant sunny day for a work-related reconaissance outing (tough gig, huh?) and am lucky to be with a wetlands biologist. We walk the half mile or so down a nice trail and boardwalk through wetlands down to a bird-viewing blind perched on the beach edge. During nesting seasons, it’s best to view the avian action from here to not disturb the birds.

Because work duty calls, we venture out onto the mudflats to explore. At low tide, remnant foundations of an old railroad turntable and dock pilings are visible (see the top photo above). It’s hard to tell where the mudflat ends and the waterline starts.

“Hey,it’s a ghost shrimp,” says biologist Jennifer, pointing out the anemic-looking white critter on the sand. I don’t know whether to watch the sand at my feet or scan the sky for birds. So I try my best to do both.

On the northern horizon and a tad to the east, the snow-laced Olympic Mountains are visible. Being a Seattleite, I’ve never seen these mountains from this direction. Very cool!

Afterwards, we have to make a stop in Westport, a fishing/tourist town on the south entrance to Grays Harbor just a few miles past Bottle Beach. (Some of the best local salmon comes from boats fishing off Westport.) The main street along the marina is full of kitschy shops and restaurants. Of course after all that intense work, we have to indulge ourselves with ice cream cones at a Whale of a Cone, every bite worth the wait in line.

When You Go
Click here for a map showing Bottle Beach State Park and directions. Springtime gets a larger batch of migrating birds, but there’s a great show in the autumn as well through October. Check the tides because the best birdwatching is just before high tide. And since I'm not really a good bird photographer, you'll have to check out Northwest nature blogs like Slugyard, Wild Pacific Northwest, and Wild Fidalgo for those.

Yes, You Can Prevent Forest Fires

2011-09-03T21:40:00.000-07:00

Early last Monday morning while exploring the Thomas Lake cluster on the western edge of Indian Heaven Wilderness, we came across an empty campsite with the fire still smoldering (pictured). Can you see what’s wrong with this picture?

Fortunately, it was just plain luck that we noticed a forest fire in the making and put it out. We walked past it a couple times before what was happening really sunk in.

Although there were no flames and no visible smoke, the fire was burning slowly in the ground, extending beyond the fire pit and making its way toward the dry log to the right poised like a giant matchstick ready to ignite.

Immediately Matt sprang into action, pulling out his collapsible metal trowel to start stirring up the hot ashes. “Take my water bottle and yours and fill them up with water,” he instructed me. I scampered the 10 yards or so down a short steep bank to Thomas Lake, filled up both bottles, and dashed back.

As I poured water around the pit, smoke erupted from the ash, revealing hot spots. Matt stirred and dug, and I filled bottles and dashed down and back from the lake, pouring water in the overturned embers. After 20 minutes of this routine the fire safely succumbed.

“I think I lowered the lake level with all the water I carried out,” I joked.

While controlled burns are now understood to be valuable to forest health, careless and unintentional human-caused fires are always bad news—especially in designated and protected wilderness areas. Late summer is peak forest fire season, so it’s really not a good idea to have a campfire at all. Yes, campfires are mesmerizing and lovely, but they aren’t worth the risk. If you’re camping, bring a stove for cooking and flashlights for the dark.

Click here for more information on campfires and how to safely and thoroughly put out a campfire. Remember what Smokey Bear says and be a good camper!

Backpacking in Indian Heaven Wilderness: Skeeters, Huckleberries, and Lovely Lakes

2011-08-30T20:53:00.000-07:00

Ever find yourself craving a night away from the city, unplugged and camping in beautiful nature, but short on time for the whole backpack/camping trip scenario? When I email a friend and grumble about my lack of camping this summer, he comes up with a concise plan, pronto:

“Cruise to Indian Heaven, hike ½ mile to a group of lakes. Leave Portland around 1:30 Sunday. 2hr drive, 1hr hike, make camp, swim, huckleberries, dine, sunset over lake. Monday rise early, on the road by 7:30.”

Sounds perfect.

Indian Heaven Wilderness, which straddles the Cascade crest about 25 miles north of the Columbia River in south-central Washington, encompasses a beautiful forested alpine plateau dappled with over 150 alpine lakes and ponds. Over the past 9,000 years the local Indians, who called the area Sahalee Tyee, came here for hunting, gathering, and horse racing (in a large field known today as the Indian Racetrack). These days it’s a very popular destination and draws hikers, hunters, and horse packers from throughout the Northwest.

The Hike
Matt has been eyeing some lakes in the western edge of the wilderness on a National Geographic map he found online and downloaded. His map doesn’t show a trail to the Thomas Lake area from the west, so the plan is to bushwhack in to the lakes. [Note: We tried right before we left to buy a Green Trails map, but the store was out.]

Turns out we don’t adhere to the plan exactly, but it gets us started. By the time we leave town (3:30), take a few wrong turns en route to our starting point, then get our packs on and ready, we start at 6:30. But we’re only hiking in a half mile.

We drive up a long dirt road (Forest Service Road 65) north of Carson with spectacular views of Mount Saint Helens along the way, and park up a worn turnout in scrubby forest just outside the wilderness. After spraying each other with DEET to ward off the ubiquitous and aggressive mosquitoes, we set off. While carefully watching our step and taking compass bearings often, we scramble along game trails, over downed logs, and through thickets of huckleberries.

For environmental and practical reasons, I’m a stick-to-the-trail kind of gal. But I do enjoy this short adventure, especially when we see a clearing in the forest just uphill after an hour of tramping. Lake!

Night in the Woods
Since it’s Sunday night, we easily find a camping spot near Thomas Lake, the largest of the lakes in this cluster. As the evening wanes to dusk, I cook up a tasty dinner of cous cous with sautéed veggies. Then something catches my eye in the eastern sky.

“Are you at all anxious about backpacking when thunder and lightning is predicted over the Cascades tonight?” I’d asked Matt earlier. After all, it is prime forest fire season now.

“Nah,” he told me with the nonchalant calm of an airline pilot. Us anxiety-prone types look to those around us for calm, and his response assuaged me a few hours ago. Now I get a little worried when I see the huge thunderhead boiling upward in the sky just beyond the eastern ridge of the lake.

Bright flashes light up the sky as we get settled for the night. “That last one was about 28 miles away,” I note after counting until we hear thunder rumbling in the distance. Soon the lapse between lightning and thunder shortens. I get more anxious but, as I say, “Well, here we are.”

Luckily the storm doesn’t draw closer and subsides after a few hours. Then the night becomes incredibly still.

When we venture a peek at the stars, the reward is brilliant. Directly overhead, the Milky Way crisscrosses the night sky, cutting a swath through one of the most vivid starry skies I’ve ever seen, cobalt blue punctured by zillions of white dots. Soon the night shift mosquitoes chase us back into the tent.

Mountain Morning
As often happens camping, we wake up at dawn and go explore. Initially the sky is clear, with mist rising off the lakes like steam rising from a cup of freshly brewed tea. But soon a silver fog descends, then rises again.

Save for a few bird calls here and there and a slight breeze, it’s blissfully, peacefully quiet. No one else is out here.

With several lakes to explore, we’re not on the road by 7:30 as planned. But that’s okay. It’s too beautiful to dash back to civilization, and the huckleberries are starting to ripen.

Wending around Lake Thomas, we find an interstate of a trail back down the way we came, so our hike out the .6 mile to the Thomas Lake trailhead is quick. Then we plod back along the road to where we parked, passing a huckleberry-picking party along the way.

Our quick trip is short but sweet--despite the skeeters.

Have you hiked in Indian Heaven? I'd love to hear about your trip in the Comments below!

When You Go
Here’s a map of Indian Heaven. I've done longer hikes here higher up, where we explored old craters and had stunning views of Mount Adams not far to the east. Although there is no fee for camping here, a Wilderness permit and Northwest Forest Pass are required. I recommend avoiding weekends if you can. I also suggest waiting until later September when the mosquitoes are past their peak because they are abundant and persistent little buggers. But you’ll be sharing the area with hunters then, so stay on the trails and be watchful.

Northwest Flavors: Twin Pines' Soft Serve Cones—A Cle Elum Classic

2011-08-26T09:17:00.000-07:00

As much as I love artisan d’Ambrosio gelato, handcrafted on historic Ballard Avenue in exquisite Italian flavors like bacio di dama and gianduja, I gotta say—I also love me some Twin Pine Burger’s soft serve ice cream cones.

If you grew up in the USA, you know the kind I’m talking about: soft vanilla and/or chocolate ice cream served with a swirly flourish out of a machine into those orangish-colored cones that taste like Styrofoam. Totally American. And if they’re done right, like Twin Pines does, totally dee-lish.

A few miles east of Cle Elum, Washington, just off I-90 on Highway 97 enroute to Blewett Pass, Twin Pines burger stand is an iconic throwback. No franchise-chain here, just an independent, classic American burger joint, complete with cherry red picnic tables on the back lawn next to a trailer park. So iconic that it has been memorialized in an Edward Hopper-esque oil painting that hangs at the entrance to the Northgate Nordstrom as part of their Northwest art collection.

For years, Twin Pines has been a favorite stop on my way home from hikes in the Teanaway or visiting friends in Chelan or Wenatchee. On weekend afternoons in the summer Twin Pines is always packed. Although I’ve never had their burgers or fries, which Yelpers seem to love, the ice cream cones and shakes are the best. Frosty and creamy, with fragrant vanilla and soft chocolatey flavor. The real deal, like Dairy Queen (which I shamelessly indulge in now and then) used to be.

I stopped by Twin Pines a few weeks ago on a hot Sunday afternoon and got a vanilla-chocolate swirl cone (cash only of course). As I sat in the shade of pine trees behind the burger shack, carefully licking the creamy cold perfection, I felt summer deep in my bones. Eating that cone stirred memories stretching back into my childhood. My dad (chocolate) and step-mom (vanilla) could have been sitting across the picnic table from me, and I could have been 11 again.

Simple flavors, simple pleasures, enjoying an ice cream cone with family and friends—priceless.

When You Go
I read on a Yelp review that Twin Pines is only open during the summer from Memorial Day to Labor Day weekend. I can’t confirm that online, but a few years ago I did worry that they were out of business when I stopped by in the autumn and the place was closed.

Hiking near Leavenworth, Washington: Sauer’s Mountain 'n Sweet Cherries

2011-08-22T22:40:00.000-07:00

Sunday morning at Anjou Bakery in Cashmere, Washington, and I’m ogling the exquisite fruit pastries while trying to decide which type of baguette sandwich to buy for my hike today. “The ham is my favorite,” says the pretty, fresh-scrubbed cashier, “It’s cured in Leavenworth just up the highway.” Sold.

I’m also probing for information about hikes in the area. Above the fertile orchards here in the Wenatchee Valley, the eastern Cascade Mountains that rim the river and creeks are a jumble of craggy granite peaks and steep ridges. This stunning landscape is full of marvelous places to hike, climb, and scramble.

When I ask the cashier directions to the Wedge Mountain trailhead—a hike I did years ago—a lean young guy behind the counter (rock climber, I’d wager) suggests hiking up Sauer’s Mountain instead.

“Sauer’s Mountain is beautiful, and you can hike along the ridge over a mile for fantastic views down to Leavenworth and all over the valley,” he continues, and then gives me directions to the trailhead in Peshashtin. I’m sold again. I love getting tips from locals in the know.

The Hike
With a deadline looming and some hiking shorts to review for FitnessTravelGear.com, I need a decent hike—fairly close to the highway with enough mileage and elevation gain to get a good workout. So I turn off Highway 2 at Peshastin, cross the Wenatchee River into the little orchard town, then drive west, and turn right just before the cemetery. The road dead-ends after about a mile below a few houses and orchards, where I park at the clearly marked trailhead.

This is not your typical trailhead. It’s on private property, with rustic signs and an ice chest full of dark cherries beckoning hikers to grab some for the hike ahead. I choose a small bag and stuff money in the jar as a thank you to the Sauers, whose property I assume we are crossing to start the hike. (Maybe in the fall there will be apples or pears instead?)

Here on the eastern crest of the Cascades, it’s another hot, sunny day. I start switchbacking up the narrow trail past Northwest Coast Indian-style carvings plunked in the tall grass (or stuck on tree trunks). These whimsical wood sculptures make me feel welcome.

For the first mile the trail skirts a small farm and then some exposed rock faces, with little shade to provide relief from the baking sun. I try to conserve water and quickly realize I should have brought two bottles.

Thankfully the grade evens out and passes through stands of pines as it nears the ridgetop. After the initial switchbacks up the slope above the farm, the rest of the hike is just angling along a ridge through Ponderosa pines, rising higher and higher to the 3,100-foot plus summit. And the views!

As I crest the ridge and finally get a view to other side, I see Leavenworth and Icicle Creek valley spread below. Far above the valley, the jagged Stuart Range peaks are still iced with snow (in August!).

At 1.5 miles along the trail, a sign marks the view to Glacier Peak on the northwest horizon. (This “elusive” stratovolcano is closer to Seattle than Mount Rainier, but far enough east that it’s not easily viewed.) I initially thought of turning around here and making it a 3-mile round trip, but it’s only another mile to the top and I can’t stop. It’s too splendid, and the panoramic views keep getting better. Onward and upward.

When I scramble the last hundred feet or so up the dusty, rocky trail to the summit, I’m grateful to find a shady spot beneath the pines where I can rest, gaze at the mountains, sip more cold water, and gobble that incredible Leavenworth ham sandwich. (Note, I continued past the summit sign up to a rock cairn a little higher at the true summit.)

Going down is easier but it has gotten a lot hotter. (I hear later that it’s over 90ᵒF.) Despite it being a summer weekend, I pass only one group of four hikers, two solo women hikers, and a dog (with one of the hikers, not solo.)

By the time I return to the car, I’m ready to dive into the beautiful pond just down the road back toward the cemetery. Alas, as far as I can tell, it’s private property. Instead I settle for some juicy fresh cherries, no doubt plucked from some trees I just passed.

When You Go
Here’s a topo map of the hike. Wooden trail signs mark every half mile or so, which I found quite friendly and helpful. It’s 5 miles roundtrip to the summit, with an elevation gain of 1,800 feet. Just below the summit, be sure and cross the old logging road and continue up past the spray-painted blue dot. Earlier in the spring and early summer, the wildflowers apparently put on quite a display along this trail.

Zen Dog Studio Teahouse: Lunar Magic at the Temple to Tea

2011-08-16T21:47:00.000-07:00

A place to escape to when one cannot ease one’s cares in the mountains—the hut beneath the pine within the city. -Toyohara Sumiaki

So Zen Dog Studio Teahouse isn’t exactly a humble hut, but many in Seattle and beyond are finding their way to this magical “Temple to Tea” in Crown Hill to ease their cares, make new friends, and of course sip fabulous tea.

If you’ve already been but haven’t stopped by lately, Zen Dog has been busy transforming his oasis in the city. The man recognizes clearly that life is constant change.

Outside he’s recently installed a beautiful wooden Chinese pagoda in the bamboo grove, traditional Chinese waterwheels, a plant-filled koi pond with a cascading stone waterfall, colorful benches in the garden, stone pathways, and more—which make a perfect setting for Zen Dog’s monthly lunar celebrations.

I was fortunate to attend Zen Dog’s first annual summer festival this past weekend, where I mingled with a happy bunch enjoying over 6 hours of live music on the lawn, artist demonstrations, singing bowls, Chen-style tai ji, and a fantastic feast. Between perfectly grilled miso/ginger-marinated salmon, traditional Chinese roasted pig, summer fresh fruit, and tasty salads, I can’t imagine a better blend of Pacific Northwest-meets-Asia fare. (Thanks to Zen Dog’s son Derek for pulling together most of this sumptuous spread.)

From Jillian Graham Band’s bluesy folk rock to the international folklorica of Satellite by Night (Zen Dog regulars) with Mike Antone, the musicians spun a lively and sometimes mystical spell. As a sunny afternoon slipped into a cool orange dusk, Cittaflow entranced us with their flowing ancient-modern sound. I swear the stripped down, primal sound of the didjeridoo reverberated up and down and throughout my body, just like Shauna’s singing crystal bowls earlier in the evening.

Many of us stayed into the night, wrapped in blankets against the evening chill. Zen Dog, as always, was busy brewing and sharing his tea to take the edge off the cold. As his new sign says, his Temple to Tea is all about hospitality, tranquility, harmony, humility, purity, and simplicity.

Isn’t that a marvelous reminder to slow down in this crazy busy world and savor the moment?

Now go drink tea!

When You Go
Click here for a location map. There’s lots going on and coming up at Zen Dog Studio Teahouse. Future events include a guest speaker from Blue Heron Zen on August 19, a Taoist teacher in the fall, and more lunar gatherings. And while Zen Dog embodies hospitality, it is a business, so if you can, please at least leave a tip for the tea served (in the glass pitcher by the door) if you don’t buy anything.

Sailing Seattle’s Elliott Bay: The Rutten Race

2011-08-12T00:04:00.000-07:00

I’m sitting on the foredeck aboard the gorgeous Tres Gatos sailboat on a beautiful summer evening, sun in my eyes and wind in my hair. We’re surrounded by dozens of boats at full sail here on Elliott Bay. Behind us downtown Seattle shimmers as the sun starts to slide toward the jagged Olympic Mountains on the western horizon.

It’s breathtaking. It’s so Seattle.

Although I’m just along for the ride, our skilled crew skippered by Bruce Hedrick is busy working the sails and ropes. After a tight turn around the last buoy bobbing in Puget Sound like a giant chocolate chip, we’re solidly in first place with no challengers. Which is just perfect.

You see, this is the Tom Rutten Memorial Race, the last in the 2011 Downtown Seattle Sailing series out of Elliott Bay Marina. Tom, who tragically died way too young 3 years ago, was one of the co-founders and organizers of this series. He was adored in the Seattle sailing community for his wicked sense of humor, incredible knowledge, dedication to the sport, and his, well, Tom-ness.

The man was truly one-of-a-kind. His brother Andy is part of our crew this evening. Tom, who was just 2 months older than me, was my first cousin.

Although I never sailed with Tom, I’m feeling his absence tonight. But how can I be sad with such a glorious backdrop?

Everyone is having a good time. That would have made Tom happy. I’m happy just to be here, to feel the chill in the wind after the sun sets, to see the camaraderie amongst everyone on board even though some of us have just met, to once again be awed by the view of Mount Rainier turning strawberry ice cream pink on the southern horizon.

Life is grand here in the Pacific Northwest. I try to remember that every single minute.

May you, too, wherever you are.

Wenatchee Weekend: Bicycling the Joe Miller Loop

2011-08-09T09:04:00.000-07:00

Sometimes you just have to follow the sun. With our decidedly unsummer-like weather this summer in western Washington, I decide in about, oh, 0.05 second to accept a former college roomie's invite to Wenatchee for the weekend. That's east of the Cascade Mountains, the dividing line between cloudy and sunny this summer in the Pacific Northwest.

In case you don’t already know, the greater Wenatchee area and valley stretching up to Leavenworth is an outdoors lover’s Mecca. (Beautiful Lake Chelan is also not too far away.) Think great downhill, backcountry, and cross-country skiing in the winter. Warmer weather brings ideal conditions for rock climbing, hiking, river rafting, kayaking, waterskiing, bicycling, and more in a warmer, drier climate than the “Coast.”

No wonder my friends who live there are all fit, healthy, and happy.

As with many of my friends, Linda and I bonded over a shared love of skiing and outdoor adventures. So I’m not surprised when she and her husband propose an afternoon bicycle ride.

Since temps are expected to be over 90ᵒF (a shock to my mossback constitution!), Don suggests we ride a route known locally as the Joe Miller loop, much of which is over 1,000 above the valley floor. When riding counter-clockwise from Wenatchee, this roughly 25-mile loop rises steadily, then steeply up to a plateau in Stemilt Basin.

Many riders go clockwise to avoid the steep hill, but we cheat and drive up to where the route levels out atop the plateau, park the truck, and then start riding. Up here the views up to forested Mission Ridge and down toward the arid Wenatchee Valley are expansive and awesome.

This is orchard country, prime land for growing cherries, apples, pears, peaches, and apricots. So we start out under bright, intense sun on a gentle grade past trees heavy with fat red cherries ready for harvest. To our right the basin drops toward a farm.

“There’s an unofficial longboard race going on, so watch out and keep off the road for a bit,” says a woman standing on the side of the road just as we’re starting up the first hill. We pull over into the shade of ponderosa pines beside the road to watch (ah, relief from the sun, which is zapping me already). Pretty soon leather and helmet-clad guys go whizzing past, bent forward like Apolo Anton Ohno in a speed ice skating race. Those dudes are going scary fast!

After we cycle a bit higher and hit a few sharp switchbacks, a big pickup drives past piled full of the racers heading back up to the starting line. I'm glad to have an excuse for another break (it's the heat!) when we ascend to their start, where racers are lined up for the next run.

"Racers ready!" cries the starter. And they're off in a blur of leather and wheels, tailed by a chaser. A couple more tag-alongs try to join in, but the starter yells them off. "Dudes! Stop! No more!"

For the next half hour we meander along a winding country road past orchards, pine forests, and a few nice views of irrigation lakes and the dusty brown Columbia Basin steppes beyond. Sure there are more than a few potholes, but that’s okay because it’s so nice to be riding along a quiet, scenic road.

Then we emerge back into more orchards and agricultural land. Bucolic farms spread out in patchworks around the valley below, with snow-covered Glacier Peak off in the distance to the northwest.

“Here’s the biggest downhill stretch," says Don. We coast down the sinuous road, hands on the brakes around tight curves, until we come to an intersection with a cute little white clapboard church on a corner. Then we turn right on Joe Miller Road.

From here the grades lessen, but it’s still nice and easy cruising through Malaga past farms and small ranches with horses grazing beneath stunning Columbia River basalt ridges.

Within a few miles we end up down at the Malaga-Alcoa Highway, which flattens out and travels along the Columbia River. Until we got to the highway, I think only two trucks passed us in over an hour of riding! Our last few miles along the highway back to Wenatchee are a slog under the hot sun.

Back in town, I have to rest in the shade to cool down, gulping cold water while Don and Linda drive up to get the truck where we started. This Westside gal is not used to the heat! But a little too much heat and lots of sweat is worth it for this great ride. I earned the calories for my wonderful dinner this evening at Shakti's.

When You Go
If you can, I recommend riding this loop in the morning during the summer. In the fall and spring, I’m sure it’s a spectacular ride. By driving up to the top of the plateau, we cut our ride to a tad over 19 miles. Here’s a map of a slightly longer version of the route, starting in East Wenatchee across the Columbia River.

Here's the route as we did it: Head south out of Wenatchee up the Squilchuck Road towards Mission Ridge. About 4 to 5 miles on, turn left on Wenatchee Heights Road and go up the steep hill. We parked and started at the top of the plateau across from funky sign pictured to the right. This road turns into Stemilt Loop Road, which we followed across Stemilt Basin for about 10 miles to the little white Baptist church. Take a right down to Joe Miller Road, winding down several miles to West Malaga Road, which we followed to Malaga-Alcoa Highway (mostly flat along the river), and then back to Wenatchee along the highway.

Northwest Flavors: Wild Spot Prawns

2011-08-04T21:19:00.000-07:00

Doesn’t it seem like the more you learn about how food is produced and where it comes from, the more complicated it is to negotiate the menu at, say, your favorite Vietnamese restaurant or burger joint?

So maybe I am a tad neurotic, but after I read Fast Food Nation I didn’t eat a hamburger for over a year. Then there was the bagged spinach scare (organic no less!). Just today I read about a massive ground turkey recall. And in the last year I’ve learned how truly harmful shrimp “farms” are, where most shrimp and prawns in the U.S. come from: think environmental degradation, toxic pesticides, destruction of small local shrimping operations, and even suspicious death of some opposed to huge shrimp farms. It’s not a pretty picture, people!

But of course it’s not all doom and gloom. Here in the Pacific Northwest we have beautiful wild spot prawns and shrimp. (Former Gourmet magazine editor Barry Estabrook is on to our not-so-secret and raves about our Northwest prawns.) You can’t get them year-round, but that makes them all the more special when they are available. (We're nearing the end of the season this year, which is usually late spring to mid to late summer, about two months.)

Last weekend I picked up some spot prawns at Snow Goose Produce in Conway, Washington, up in the Skagit flats, fresh from Rosario Strait in the San Juan Islands. If you’re more determined, you can get a permit to go shrimping yourself in Puget Sound, as Langdon Cook chronicles on his wonderful blog Fat of the Land.

It goes without saying that these fresh, local prawns tasted incredible; they were sweet without any sweetening added. I treated them very simply, and the result was, I must boast, excellent. Here’s my “recipe,” although I can’t give you specific amounts—just go with your instincts for how many you will be serving.

Wild Spot Prawns Linguine with Garlic and Lemon

Wild spot prawns or shrimp (about 4 or 5 per person, depending on size)
olive oil
minced fresh garlic
minced shallots or small cipolline onion
fresh-squeezed lemon juice
touch of sea salt
fresh linguine
fresh grated parmesan
minced chives

Cook up the linguine al dente (I used a mixture of spinach and plain), drain and drizzle with a bit of olive oil, divvy individual servings into wide bowls, and set aside.

Heat a sauté pan, and then add enough olive oil to cover the pan surface.

Sauté the shallots or onion until soft, then add the garlic and sauté for another minute, stirring nonstop.

Add the shelled prawns and sauté until pink (but not any longer!), then pour in lemon juice and stir for another few seconds to heat. Mine were pre-cooked so I just reheated in the pan for a bit.

Spoon the shrimp mixture over the pasta, salt to taste, grate some good fresh parmesan on top, and sprinkle with fresh chives.

Enjoy with a fresh green salad and a crisp, dry white wine.

Have you ever gone shrimping? Do you have a favorite way to prepare fresh shrimp? Do tell under Comments below.

Bon appetit!

Where to Go
Check your local fish monger for wild spot prawn availability. Any American- or Canadian-sourced wild prawn is relatively safe because of our stricter regulations about reducing by-catch. Wild prawns from other parts of the world are not so well regulated and therefore suspect.

Sea Kayaking Northern Skagit Bay: Seals, Sunshine, and Sweet Paddling

2011-08-02T11:04:00.000-07:00

Not much more than an hour north of Seattle, northern Skagit Bay is a marvelous area to enjoy some beautiful scenery, spy wildlife, and explore undeveloped tree-fringed shorelines. What more could you ask for in a day sea kayaking?

I blogged about sea kayaking in Skagit Bay last year, but I can’t resist writing about this great place again after the exhilarating day I just spent there.

With strong currents from a large tidal exchange today, we almost go to Bowman Bay instead, which is outside Deception Pass. The narrow passages on either side of Hope Island in Skagit Bay can be tricky because of swift currents, tide rips, and swirly squirrely water.

We want to try something a little different than the usual loop around Hope and Skagit Islands, so after launching in calm water at Snee-Oosh Beach, we kayak directly west across the bay to Whidbey Island. Along the northeastern Whidbey shoreline, thick green forest crowds close to the water’s edge. The eelgrass and bull kelp we glide over sway in the current; this is valuable habitat for Dungeness crab and fish. I catch a glimpse of a belly-up crab half buried in the sand beneath some long flat strands of eelgrass in the clear, shallow water.

“We’ve caught a couple big crabs, it’s going to be a good dinner tonight!” says a woman we pass who is crabbing, ankle deep in the water with net baskets in hand.

As we round a small, rocky beach point, a shiny gray lump close to the water moves slightly: it's a baby seal. It turns to watch us with huge dark eyes and glances toward the tideline a few feet below, as if deciding whether to slip into the water and disappear.

“There’s mom,” says Julie. An adult seal pops its head above the water several yards behind us, clearly anxious we're there. We paddle away quickly. I've been told not to scare young seals into the water because they don't have enough insulation to withstand too much time in the chilly waters of Puget Sound.

Exploring Cornet Bay is our goal, but as we round Hoypus Point toward Deception Pass the wind becomes too fierce to battle. It’s an afternoon westerly, which the funnels through the pass like a wind tunnel. Instead we pull up to a beach across from Fidalgo Island, with Mount Erie looming close to the north.

With the often gray and dreary summer we’re having, I bask in the gorgeous sunny day here on this beach. Glacier-capped Mount Baker (or Koma Kulshan as the natives called it) seems to float above the Cascades on the eastern horizon, and to the south a forest-covered Goat Island rises gently in the distance, framing our view.

Since I’m trying to have gluten-free days along with meatless days, I must say I packed quite a tasty bean salad along with the berries I picked yesterday.

“Let’s head straight over the Hope Island,” suggests Julie when the breeze dies down. Boat traffic isn’t too bad considering it’s a beautiful summer day, so we paddle southeast, aiming for a beach near the northwestern side of this lovely island state park. I love paddling close to the island shorelines here, where the rocky bluffs are topped with moss, lichen, and occasional wildflowers.

Time flies when you’re outside doing something you love on a brilliant blue sky day. We catch the flood tide back to Snee-Oosh beach about 4 hours after we started. While it’s always a chore to lug the heavy kayaks up from the beach and onto the car, somehow the boats always seem lighter after a great paddle.

When You Go
There are lots of places to launch your kayak around this area, but Snee-oosh Beach is convenient, with no parking fees. Drive to LaConner, WA, cross the Rainbow Bridge over Swinomish Slough, then take a left on Pull-and-be-Damned Road (isn't that wonderful name for a road, or anything?) to Snee-oosh Road on the bay. As soon as the road drops down to the water level, take a quick left onto the dirt road to the boat lauch/parking area. Check the tides before you go since the currents can get pretty strong around the islands here and a low tide means tideflats that can restrict travel to the south (and make for some mucky walking on the beach down to the water’s edge.)

Northwest Flavors: Dreamland's Creamy, Dreamy Hummos

2011-07-28T14:18:00.000-07:00

For you hummos lovers like me, isn’t it a revelation to find a truly great hummos—the kind that sends you scampering to the store for more and more?

After sampling many brands of packaged hummos over the years from stores up and down the West Coast (as well as experimenting in my kitchen), I keep on coming back to Dreamland hummos.

“This is our secret,” says Akram Joudi, owner of Dreamland, a Seattle-area family business that makes this fabulous hummos and other superb Middle Eastern specialty foods, “we make it the way we eat at home.”

I must confess—I’m addicted to their roasted garlic hummos. It’s unusually light and creamy, with a slight tang lurking under the layered flavors of pureed chick peas, tahini, lemon juice, olive oil, salt, and garlic. Each container is studded with a few caramelized cloves of roasted garlic, like little prizes. I suspect Akram’s wife Lamis, who makes the hummos and baba ghanoush, blends it a long time to achieve the almost frothy texture that melts quickly on the tongue.

Apparently others are addicted as well (including Seattle Times food writer/blogger Nancy Leson) because Dreamland’s hummos and baba ghanoush routinely sell out within a day or so of their delivery to my local QFC. Many times I’ve dashed in to grab some, only to find the deli case full of mediocre nationally distributed brands, bereft of Dreamland. I finally got wise and asked the store which day Dreamland delivers their fresh batch each week.

“These are our grandparent’s recipes. They were not in the food business, but we knew they were doing the best (food),” Akram tells me with obvious pride. His family immigrated to the U.S. from Lebanon in 1986. Fortunately for me and many other Northwesterners, they came to Seattle, where they had an excellent connection in the developing food scene. Saleh of the much beloved former Saleh al Lago restaurant is the brother of Lamis.

“We started our business on May 15, 1986, to be exact,” says Akram with a slightly nostalgic smile. “I remember the day.”

Akram is a handsome, dignified man with a thick silver hair and light beard. He wears a neatly pressed suit jacket as he gives me a tour of their small but clean and spacious plant in Shoreline. He has graciously allowed me to stop by for a visit, where each day a crew of family members and a few other workers carefully prepare fresh batches of delectable Mediterranean dips, salads, and falafel pita sandwiches.

“We start by making our food from scratch. For the baba ghanoush we roast, not bake, the eggplant, and we soak and cook the beans for the hummos and salads. Everything is all natural, with no additives.” he explains.

Like he said, just like they would eat at home.

We walk past a row of people chopping fresh vegetables and packaging salads in small containers. “This is Bibi, my sister-in-law, who’s in charge of the 25 types of salads and pita sandwiches.” Bibi lets me take her picture but tells me with a laugh to make sure it’s a good shot, for her husband. I immediately sense a friendly, down-to-earth woman when she smiles and tells me the picture is fine.

Lamis comes in every morning from 5 until 11 a.m. to make the hummos and baba, but she’s gone by the time I arrive. I don’t dare ask for their recipe or technique, but I notice big food processors in which she no doubt carefully blends the tasty dips.

So Dreamland really is all in the family, which is clearly important to Akram.

“My wife and I have been married for 46 years—the first and only marriage for both of us.” Their eldest son Walid works in the family business and will take it over some day. “Maybe a year, maybe 15 years,” says Akram, who tells me he’s 70. To me he doesn’t look much over 60.

Since the food they concoct at Dreamland is so wonderful, I ask Akram about the food at their extended family gatherings, which includes more than 30 people from several generations. I envision a feast of savory Lebanese family dishes. “Do you eat these particular foods?”

“Yes, but these are side dishes.” Akram tells me. “Last Sunday we had a family barbeque, with everything on the grill – chicken, lamb. Another main dish we do is roasted chicken filled with rice, meat, spices, and pine nuts.”

This is a family that knows how to eat well. I’m just happy that they make and sell some of their treasured recipes for the rest of us.

Do you have a favorite brand or recipe for hummos? Please chime in with a comment below.

I also invite you to sign up for the Pacific Northwest Seasons email list or subscribe to Pacific Northwest Seasons. Just check for these features in the left margin.

Where to Go
Dreamland’s hummus, baba, and their pita falafel sandwiches are available in most QFC stores in the greater Seattle area as well as at Metropolitan Markets and a couple Thriftway stores. Some stores get shipments twice a week, and others just once a week. The salads, which are sold as self-serve, take-out deli food, can be found around the Puget Sound region at Town and Country Markets (such as in Shoreline and on Bainbridge Island).

Mountains to Sound Greenway: Hiking Cedar Butte

2011-07-22T12:11:00.000-07:00

How is it that I’ve been hiking the I-90 corridor between Seattle and Snoqualmie Pass for years and never been up Cedar Butte until today? This is a great little hike!

Maybe it’s because this hike is shorter (about 3 or 4 miles round trip) and not as flashy as nearby Mt. Si and Rattlesnake Ledge with dramatic views or Twin Falls with gorgeous waterfalls. But while this relatively easy hike is one of the least visited in the Mountains to Sound Greenway, it’s not for lack of beauty. And if you’re hiking with small kids or still working your way into decent shape, this is the hike for you.

We were initially heading to Rattlesnake Ledge, but the rain gives us pause. (Yes, while the rest of the U.S. is sweltering with heat, we’re still waiting for our real summer to arrive here in western Washington.) Andy and I are a bit concerned about the slick rocks atop Rattlesnake Ledge with an 8-year-old along today. People have accidentally slipped off the cliffs to their demise up there.

“How about Cedar Butte today?” I suggest when we all meet at the Mercer Island Park-n-Ride. Everyone is game for this switch, especially since the trailhead for Cedar Butte is just 50 yards or so away from the Rattlesnake Ledge parking area.

In a steady summer rain, we set off eastward on the flat, wide Iron Horse Trail for about a half mile until we see the unobtrusive cutoff for Cedar Butte. (Keep your eyes on the right side of the trail for the junction.) Stepping off the Iron Horse Trail and onto Cedar Butte trail is like entering a lush, enchanted forest. Profuse greenery (thimbleberries, ferns, salmonberries, and more) lines the narrow trail as it winds gently upward through the second-growth forest.

For the first half mile or so we pass through mostly deciduous alder forest, but as we climb higher it transitions to more open, mixed conifers. Wisps of Spanish moss (or is it net lichen?) hang from tree branches over a carpet of light green moss that blankets the forest floor.

“Isn’t that a native orchid?” Andy points out a small, off-white, multi- blossomed flower shooting up off a decomposing downed tree trunk. It has that waxy orchid look. What a treat to see! Unfortunately all my shots of this delicate treasure are slightly out of focus. (Since I originally posted this, several naturalists have identified it as a pinesap, monotropa hypopithys, which is not an orchid.)

While most of the hike up to the summit is in forest, at the end of a switchback about a mile up the trail we stop for a peak-a-boo view of Rattlesnake Lake and the ridge beyond. On a misty day like today, the turquoise blue lake looks like a remote mountain lake instead of a heavily used park. I’ve also never seen the lake so full.

Before we know it, we’ve reached the top, where a group of scouts are just starting down (the only other hikers we’ve seen so far). Really it’s just a small clearing in the forest with a panoramic view north up the Middle Fork valley of the Snoqualmie River. I try to ignore I-90 in the foreground, and at least we’re far enough away that traffic noise doesn’t reach here.

“Hey, it’s a hummingbird!” cries Lena. I catch a blur of reddish-brown feathers, a Rufous hummingbird. We watch it darting quickly up towards the treetops and wonder what it’s looking for up here. In retrospect, I realize it's probably dining on the unpleasantly abundant mosquitoes, which are feasting on my exposed hands until I douse them with repellent.

By the time we get back to the Iron Horse Trail junction, the rain has subsided and the slugs have decided it’s a good time to cross the trail. We help a few on their way so they won’t get crushed by bicyclists, including a native banana slug sliming its way across the gravel trail. (If I were a slug, I think the gravel would be unpleasant on my belly.) Lena is scouring the salmonberry shrubs along the trail for ripe berries, which are plentiful and tasty right now.

Just before we load back into the SUV for the ride home, Lena instructs everyone on the proper method for discouraging ‘skeeters from following us into the car. Enjoy the Eebee Geebee!

When You Go
Cedar Butte is about 35 miles east of Seattle in the Cascade foothills. Drive east on I-90 from Seattle, take the 436th exit (Exit 32), and drive south to the end of the road and the Rattlesnake Lake/Cedar River Watershed Visitor Center parking lot. The Iron Horse Trail starts on the far eastern edge of this parking complex. Elevation gain to the top of Cedar Butte is about 900 feet, and the trail has been regraded in the last few years to be much less steep than it used to be. You need a Washington State Discover Pass or Northwest Forest Pass (good for both Oregon and Washington national forests) to park here or you could be fined.

Hood River Valley Weekend Getaway: Fun along the Fruit Loop

2011-07-17T15:39:00.000-07:00

Sometimes the perfect summer weekend getaway isn’t about packing in as much as possible— it’s about relaxing with friends and maybe not doing much at all. Sharing home-cooked meals, talking late into the night, sleeping in, sipping tea, and hiking to a beautiful waterfall…can you think of a much better way to reconnect with lifelong girlfriends you haven’t seen in a year or more?

Down on the Farm
For the annual G8 gathering, this year we rent the spacious and comfy farmhouse at Draper Girls Country Farm in Hood River Valley, Oregon, one of the farms on the “Fruit Loop” drive of orchards in the valley. With elegant Mount Hood looming only a couple dozen miles up valley and a cherry orchard just beyond the front lawn, the bucolic locale sets the tone for a wonderful weekend. What sealed the deal and drew us here, though, were the cute little pygmy goats and young lambs frolicking in a pen beside the house.

The eight of us who’ve been friends since junior high (and some as far back as kindergarten) have lots of catching up to do. So we sit outside in colorful lawn chairs talking and laughing, watching the hue of Mount Hood’s glaciers and snowfields change as Friday afternoon turns to evening dusk. When it cools down we move inside.

Hiking to Tamanawas Falls
“Anyone want to join me for a hike?” I ask on Saturday morning. While I love talking with great friends, I get antsy without getting outside and moving all weekend.

This year, for the first time ever (and possibly the last), everyone agrees to go on a hike together. Talkative and friendly farm owner Theresa Draper recommends hiking to Tamanawas Falls on the flank of Mount Hood, about 15 miles up Highway 35 on the Mount Hood Scenic Byway. I hiked here as a teenager, but came from the other side of the mountain.

We stop at the wrong trailhead and hike an extra mile (don’t stop at the trailhead near the Cooper Spur turnoff, go a mile farther up mountain!), but it’s a relatively easy 5-mile roundtrip jaunt through mostly Douglas fir forest along a couple rushing mountain streams. T Falls is a very popular hike, and we pass plenty of people as well as dogs, a deer, and a skittering little gray lizard.

Although it’s not a hot day, the heavy mist roiling up and spilling outward from the base of the waterfall cools us down while we sit and take in the view (and talk, of course). Since the rocky trail gets a bit slick close to the waterfall, we plop down on rocks just outside the damp zone and soak up some sun.

Hood River’s Big City Coffee Houses
While I think it’s healthy to be totally unplugged for a weekend, on Sunday morning I drive a dozen miles down valley to Hood River to check business email because there’s no Wi-Fi at the farmhouse and I don’t get decent cell reception. Compared to the quiet up valley, busy downtown Hood River feels like an overcrowded city. (Personally I think this revitalized orchard town peaked in the 1990s.) I bypass packed and trendy Dog River Coffee and Doppio’s and settle in for tea and a scone with my netbook at less-crowded but long-time local favorite Ground Espresso Bar and Cafe on the eastern edge of downtown.

Fruit Looping
On the way back up valley, I can’t resist stopping at a couple farmstands along the Fruit Loop. When I was a kid, before windsurfers discovered Hood River, this area was all about orchards and fruit. Today smaller local farmers are challenged to stay afloat due to overseas competition that undercuts their prices. A tank top I buy at Cody Orchards in Odell from owner Donna Cody sums it up: "An apple a day allows your farmer to stay."

A few miles farther up Highway 35 towards Mount Hood, I make another stop at Packer Orchards to take pictures of Mount Adams to the north (which is a spectacular climb if you're in good shape). But I’m a sucker for good fruit smoothies, so when I wander inside the farmstand and see milkshakes and smoothies available in a zillion combinations of delicious fruit, I have to get one. My creamy raspberry-Marion berry-peach yogurt smoothie is about the best I’ve ever had. Truly.

Cooking on the Farm
Of course with seven moms and a foodie wannabe like me, the meals and snacks we whip up in the well-stocked kitchen are mostly healthful, occasionally decadent, and very tasty. We had planned to dine out one night at a fancy Hood River restaurant, but it’s so nice up here at Draper Girls farmhouse that we cancel the reservations and eat all our meals around the big farm table.

When we need to supplement, we just walk a few yards over to the Draper Girls’ farmstand to restock. I snag some brilliant green string beans, sweet organic cherries, rosy apricots, and a Walla Walla sweet onion. I make a mental note to buy some of that grass-fed lamb available in the freezer to take home and cook up later.

So this is what makes new memories with old friends. Maybe a bunch of guys would bond over a weekend fishing. But we loved hanging out at the Draper Girls' Country farmhouse so much that we’ve pre-booked a weekend next summer. If you stop by the farmstand and see a bunch of ladies laughing over on the lawn by the farmhouse dressed in oddly eclectic retro clothes, it might just be us.

I hope that you, too, can enjoy time with dear friends in such a lovely place.

When You Go
The Draper Girls Country Farm farmhouse, which is right on Highway 35 just north of the Parkdale turnoff, gets booked well in advance, so book early. The house sleeps eight easily in four bedrooms with queen-sized beds. The sofa in the living room is also comfy for sleeping, as one of my friends can attest. The kitchen is completely stocked with good pots, pans, dishes, knives, and more. There's also a wide-screen TV, but we didn't turn it on all weekend.

Riding the Alaska Marine Highway System: Glaciers, Whales, and New Friends

2011-07-11T22:13:00.000-07:00

This is the last of my series of posts from Southeast Alaska, the northern edge of the Northwest Coast.

Rain is pelting the cabin windows and wind whistles at a constant high pitch as the ship rocks gently left and right, churning southward on the white-capped sea. About halfway between Juneau and Haines, steel-gray clouds hang in thick low tufts, obscuring the many spectacular mountains that line the Inside Passage. But every now and then patchy snowfields and glaciers that hug the mountains peek through the clouds.

“Humpback whale at one o’clock!” cries the shipboard Tongass National Forest ranger who is giving a short talk here in the fore lounge. I glance over just in time to see a spout burst up out of the water and dissipate, not more than 50 yards off the starboard bow. Next a hulking, shiny dark back breaks the water surface, slowly rolls, and then plunges downward, leaving us with a flick of its wide, split fluke tail just before it disappears.

Welcome to Southeast Alaska’s Marine Highway System.

As I write this, I’m on the third and last leg of my ferry trips here. Today I’m on the 4.5-hour ride from Haines back to Juneau, and the weather is crap. Same for my 4.5-hour ride from Sitka to Juneau last week. But I was lucky to have sun breaks and views of the never-ending peaks and icy blue-white glaciers on the trip north from Juneau to Haines. It was an ahhhhh-some journey.

Up on the upper aft deck, a few hardy souls are camped out and asleep on reclining deck chairs, some headed all the way down to Bellingham, Washington. The ranger tells us that the whales, especially orcas, sometimes like to play in the ship’s wake, so I make occasional trips up there. I feel like I’m intruding on a private community, such is the camaraderie that develops amongst the through traveler campers.

Regardless, it’s easy to make friends on a several-hour ferry ride, when many of us are riding a vacation high. And it’s generally not the cruise ship set on these ferries. Friendly locals mix with those of us traveling from the Lower 48 and beyond. When I get up to use the restroom, I ask the German tourists to my left if they’ll watch my pack. They smile and nod yes. I do the same for them a while later.

On the first leg of my Inside Passage journey, from Sitka to Juneau, I sat beside Mark, a lean, soft-spoken teacher-photographer from California and a local doctor based in Sitka, a marvelous woman and font of information about Sitka and many other things. “Sitka is a very tight community, with lots going on. I love it,” she says.

While ferrying next from Juneau to Haines, I met up with Mark again and added a nice semi-retired couple from Maryland to my temporary band of traveling companions. I felt totally comfortable leaving my netbook and even my purse next to them while I went out on deck to watch the leaping porpoises, blowing whales, and gorgeous scenery. (Okay, I forgot my purse, but of course it was fine.)

When it was time to disembark at Haines and they continued on to Skagway, I actually felt a bit sad that I’ll never see these people again. But I’m happy to have shared a few hours with them, learning a bit of their stories and what brought them here. Here on a ferry boat on the Inside Passage, the adventurous spirit of Alaska infuses us all.

I expected beautiful scenery, but I’m just as pleased that the Alaska Marine Highway System ferries are full of interesting, good people who enrich my experience while I travel in the land of stunning mountains, breaching whales, and soaring eagles.

When You Go
Here’s a schedule and stops for the Alaska Marine Highway System. You can travel all the way from Bellingham up to Skagway, over 3 days, or just hop on and off like I did for shorter jaunts. The food on the ships is so-so, so many bring their own on board. There’s also a cocktail lounge and movie room for those not so concerned with the land and sea scapes.

Good Eats in Haines: Chilkoot River Sockeye and Much More

2011-07-06T15:00:00.000-07:00

Although I only spent four days in Haines, Alaska, it was just enough to fall a little bit in love.

No, not with a rugged Alaska man—but with a quirky, friendly community and some amazing meals I had there. You gotta love a small town that has a hammer museum and whose local newspaper chronicles out-of-town visitors. Here’s an excerpt from Chilkat Valley News’ Unduly Noted section:

Pat Annis enjoyed her first visit to Haines since her son, Bill Annis, moved here in 1996.… She had a great time walking around town with Bill, visiting the Eagle Foundation and Alaska Indian Arts, and talking with Fred Shields at his gift shop.

(I’m only slightly disappointed that my visit didn’t make the paper.)

Surrounded by dramatic Inside Passage mountains and set on a long, narrow peninsula between the Chilkoot and Chilkat Inlets (Lynn Canal), Haines retains a more low-key character than Skagway to the north. Unlike Skagway, only one cruise ship a week stops in Haines, so it’s not overrun by tourists. (I don't mean to disparage the economic benefits that cruise ship dollars contribute to these small towns.)

Alaskan cuisine can trend bizarrely unhealthful (nowhere else have I been served a garden burger deep fried), but in Haines I ate some of my best meals ever. And that’s coming from a woman who can remember great meals enjoyed over 20 years ago.

It Doesn’t get Much Fresher Than This
If you don’t fish, or even if you do but don’t live close to a healthy salmon run, how often do you dine on wild salmon caught just a few hours ago?

On a damp, drizzly morning, we head to the forest-fringed, glacier-fed Chilkoot River just outside town. The sockeye are running, and fisherman extraordinaire Ron recently hooked a salmon in the same spot. First timers luck?

“If I don’t catch anything, we’ll pick up some halibut in town for dinner,” says Ron. “But give me about 20 minutes.” Marilyn and I drive a mile upriver (it’s a very short river!) to Chilkoot Lake and watch bald eagles.

An excited Ron greets us when we get back. Amongst the half dozen or more people fishing nearby, he is the only one who caught a 10-pounder within 5 minutes.

Chilled bottles of Alaskan Pale Ale come out of the cooler in the back of the truck, and we celebrate Ron’s catch and tonight’s salmon feast. Which, after being marinated and grilled to perfection, is incredible.

Mosey’s Mexican
Great Mexican fare is not what people usually associate with Alaska, but Mosey’s gets a thumbs up from my Arizona transplant friends. We dine there one evening on colorful fresh tacos, piquant chile verde, and (we all decide is the best) Petersburg shrimp enchiladas.

Views of the fjord and the mountains beyond are superb from the deck of the converted home that houses Mosey’s, but tonight we dine inside because it’s a bit chilly. I’ve noticed that portion sizes here in Alaska are on the large side, even for American standards, so tonight’s dinner spills over into tomorrow’s breakfast with scrambled eggs.

A Haines Institution: Fireweed
Before I headed north to Alaska, a health-conscious former Alaskan (via France) told me I had to eat at Fireweed, famous for its fresh baked pizza and overall healthful fare. So I take his advice and have both a lunch and dinner there.

Inside Fireweed, which is in a former historic Fort Seward building, it’s warm and light with wood-beamed ceilings, strings of white lights, and an open kitchen. While lunch slices of pesto pizza are excellent, my dinner of fresh, succulent grilled halibut on a bun baked onsite with salad greens is the best. When dining in Alaska during fishing season, there’s truly nothing better.

Baked to Perfection: Sarah J’s Shoppe
In search of good tea, we wander into Sarah J’s Shoppe, which just opened about 4 weeks ago—so new that Sarah doesn’t have a website yet. This cute little coffee shop/teahouse/bakery on the edge of Fort Seward and just a few blocks up from the cruise ship dock has wonderful teas and baked goods. And they take requests.

“A customer asked me where the pie was, so I baked this for him,” says Sarah of the beautiful golden-crusted pie stuffed with apples and peaches in the display case.

While I indulge in a fragrant peach green tea and molasses ginger cookie (just the right balance of chewy and crispy), Marilyn gets good coffee and a butterscotch blondie. Despite being a spare and careful eater, I notice that ever-slender Marilyn quickly finishes her baked treat.

I sneak there again early the next morning for more tea and breakfast before catching the ferry back to Juneau. Somehow I walk out with a fresh raspberry-lime muffin, a slice of day-old cranberry caramel cake, and a blondie, none of which make it to Juneau before being consumed.

And a Shout-out
While I spent three perfect nights with my campground host friends Marilyn and Ron at Chilkat State Park, my last night was at the comfy Hotel Halsingland in a converted historic Fort Seward building. A special thanks to Charles, who manages the front desk, for his amiable, friendly service.
Remember Holling, the gentlemanly bartender from the TV show Northern Exposure from the 1990s? This retired anesthesiologist from Houston sounds exactly like Holling (actually actor John Cullum), with the same low-key, affable manner.

When You Go
Just go! Here’s a link of ways to get to Haines. Personally I loved riding the Alaska Marine Highway ferries up and back. I hiked, ate well, and generally relaxed, but there’s much more to explore here in the summer.

Hiking around Haines, Alaska: Mt. Riley’s Spectacular Views

2011-07-01T16:34:00.000-07:00

This is my second post from Southeast Alaska, almost 1,000 miles up the Northwest coast on the northern edge of the same temperate rainforest ecosystem that historically stretched all the way south into northern California.

“If we’re going to hike up Mt. Riley, we should go today,” says Marilyn, mindful of the ever-changing Southeast Alaska weather. This late June morning has blessed us with clear blue skies and eye-popping views of Inside Passage mountains top heavy with glaciers, some tumbling down to the sea.

“Let’s go for it,” I reply. Good thing we do because this turns out to be the only sunny day during a week here.

After a filling breakfast of pancakes drizzled with homemade spruce tip syrup (thank you Ron!) on the deck at Chilkat State Park’s campground host cabin, we drive a few miles toward Haines. When we park across the street from the trailhead off Mud Bay Road, just one other vehicle is there this morning.

We start in dense forest void of underbrush, but within 15 minutes hit marshy bogs. The lush green flora that line the boardwalk portions of the trail resemble that of a tropical jungle. I remind myself that the Tongass is a temperate rainforest. Huge devil’s club with leaves the size of large platters, massive shiny skunk cabbage, and horsetails on steroids sprout tall from the muddy soil and brush against our arms and legs as we walk past.

This far north, the trail traverses from nearly sea level up through a few different plant zones to a subalpine meadow and scrubby little pine trees at the 1,760-foot Mt. Riley summit. (In the Cascades of Oregon and Washington we don’t see subalpine plants until about 3,000 feet above sea level.)

After an hour of hiking up the sometimes steep and narrow trail, a distinctive sound resonates through the forest, like a big South American-style wind pipe blowing in short bursts. “Tree frog? Toad?” we both guess.

At the trailhead, we passed a weathered gray wood sign that said 2.1 miles to the summit. When we finally reach the edge of the forest near the top, we see another sign that says it’s 2.8 miles down to the trailhead and another quarter mile to the summit. So this must be a 6+-mile hike instead of a 4.2-mile hike. But more mileage makes for more exercise, so it’s fine by me.

With craggy, glacier-covered mountains peeking above the trees in every direction around the open meadow, our pace picks up as we scramble the last short stretch to the top.

Up here on this glorious Alaska day, the 360-degree view reveals narrow fingers of turquoise sea ringed by jagged peak after peak thrusting skyward. It’s incredible, stunning, spectacular, magnificent, amazing, awesome, and all the superlatives I know. So what do I blurt out?

“Oh my gosh, it’s so f**cking beautiful!” I shout after reaching the rounded rocky summit. (But hey, it’s Alaska!)

I’m so grateful to be on this mountain top today when the sky is blue, the sun is shining, and it’s tank-top warm.

Now this is a peak experience.

When You Go
The parking and trailhead to Mt. Riley on Mud Bay Road just outside Haines is easy to miss, so click here for better directions and a map. Bring water, a bear spray cannister (this is grizzly/brown bear country), and insect repellent. My campground host/friend Marilyn recommends Skin-so-Soft, which is nontoxic and worked well for us. We took our time so I wouldn’t reinjure my ankle tripping over one of the many roots on the trail, stopped for water breaks, and lingered on the summit, so up and back took us about 5.5 hours.

Sea Kayaking Sitka Sound: Many Islands and Shades of Gray

2011-06-25T23:42:00.000-07:00

This is the first of a few posts from Southeast Alaska, which is just a quick jet trip north up the coast from the Pacific Northwest and shares with us an ocean, northern latitude, similar flora and fauna, and a spirited outdoors culture.

I didn’t arrive in Sitka this morning with an agenda, but as soon as I see the cluster of small islands just offshore as we drive the short trip to town from the airport, I’m seized with desire. I must kayak out there.

It’s a drizzly, gray day, and low clouds obscure the surrounding mountains (most notably Mount Edgecumbe). But on the upside, the water is placid and no one else is out except a few trawlers.

As soon as I drop my luggage at the hotel, I ask where to rent kayaks and a friendly local sends me over to Sitka Sound Ocean Adventures at the Crescent Harbor marina, about a 10-minute walk away.

I find the old blue school bus with a kayak propped in front in the parking lot and ask the fresh-scrubbed young woman outside, “I’d like to go kayaking this afternoon, can I rent or join a group that’s going out?”

“No one else is signed up, but you can go with a guide, “ she replies with a smile. “The water is so calm now, can you go soon?”

Most definitely. I dash a couple blocks into town to grab a quick lunch at Two Chicks in the Window, a local seafood stand recommended by the guide service. Ten thumbs up to this spot. Today’s special is white king salmon on grilled rosemary bread with spicy coleslaw. The flaked fresh fish, topped with a red pepper aioli and spring greens, is so sweet and tender that I chow it down quickly. Divine.

Lucky me, they managed to find two single kayaks for my harbor outing rather than a double. My friendly guide Mitchell is a handsome Vermont transplant who has been bouncing around for several years living the footloose outdoorsy life I wish I’d done in my twenties.

After getting all rigged up, we shove off a boat launch into the smooth green water and immediately head out towards the islands I saw earlier. It feels great to find that rhythmic, push-pull paddling cadence, and we move quickly across the forest-fringed harbor out to the small islands.

Along the rocky shoreline of Aleutski Island, which reminds me a lot of Washington’s San Juans Islands, neon orange and deep purple starfish cling to rocks beneath the clear water surface among plump green-yellow rockweed and dappled ribbon kelp.

“See that lighthouse out there?” says Mitchell, pointing about a half mile away. “Let’s head toward that.”

We pass more petite islands topped with thick evergreen trees and draw close to the tall white structure, which isn’t actually a functioning lighthouse. Mitchell tells me it was built by a quirky local veterinarian, who only made people pay for his services if he didn’t like their pets.

Since I’m a decent paddler and we’re making good time, Mitchell suggests that next we head for a couple narrow islands another half mile farther towards the open ocean. By this time we’re both damp from the light, steady rain, but it doesn’t bother either of us.

“On the other side of those islands, there’s nothing between us and Eurasia,” he tells me. I’m game.

A breeze picks up as we get close to the inland side of the islands. Atop one of the windblown trees is a big immature bald eagle, whose head is still dark on top. We draw close and linger for a minute, where the water is still.

“I could float here for a long time and just be with the Zen of the moment,” says Mitchell, who has revealed the soul of an artist. I know what he means. I wish we could just hang here for a while and listen to the wind in the trees and water lapping against the rocks.

To our left is a small gap between the island and a rocky shoal where ocean waves are breaking in foamy white splashes. Mitchell tells me to stay in the middle of the tight channel, and we paddle quickly through and around to the outside.

“Look over to the right,” Mitchell says. “There’s an old World War II bunker.” Perched on the rocks facing the ocean is an gray, forlorn-looking concrete structure. I sure wouldn't want to spend a winter there.

What a contrast to the inner harbor. Big ocean swells roll in and break on the weathered, rocky shoreline and then bounce back toward us. Our kayaks bob up and down several feet in the choppy, rolling water. It feels exactly like air swells on the flight this morning up from Seattle.

Unfortunately there’s a time limit to this sweet sojourn, and we need to head back. As we’re approaching the end of the Sitka Airport runway, an Alaska Airlines jet takes off and roars not far overhead. And soon we’re back on land.

Afterwards I chat a bit with Alison Dunlap, who owns Sitka Sound Ocean Adventures with her husband John. I’m probing her for some colorful quotes about kayaking in Sitka. “Many shades of gray,” she laughs.

Come to think of it, I’m drawn to many shades of gray myself. (Just look at my wardrobe for starters.) Sure, I wouldn’t mind blue skies and sunshine, but the gray and rain today also made the trip more special. It was just me and Mitchell, the bald eagles and ravens, and the beautiful island-strewn harbor all to ourselves.

When You Go
Sitka Sound Ocean Adventures runs daily tours, from a 2.5-hour harbor tour, which I did, to half day and more. I was just lucky to be the only customer on a rainy day, so I got a private tour. My trip was $73 with tax. Alison says they can arrange multi-day expeditions or rent gear for those wanting to take a longer trip.

Golden Gardens Sunset: Seattle Celebrates the Solstice

2011-06-21T22:39:00.000-07:00

With just 5 minutes to go before the sun sets on this glorious summer solstice, we’re stacked up behind several cars waiting to park at Seattle’s Golden Gardens Park. Will we make it in time to watch the sun slide behind the Olympic Mountains on the western horizon on this longest day of the year?

“Here, will you take a few pictures?” I say, handing the phone to my niece while I maneuver the car slowly forward. She’s already on it. “Mine takes better shots.”

On this first summer night of the year, kissed with a hint of salt in the breeze off Puget Sound, it looks like half the city is here to witness the solstice sunset. And party. Numerous beach fires glow orange, surrounded by crowds of people. There’s something splendidly pagan about it all.

Finally I stop directly behind several cars parked facing the beach, turn on my hazard lights, turn off the engine, and hop out. Totally illegal, but who’s going to be pulling out of their prime parking spots for the next 10 minutes?

Here in Sunset City, I’ll never tire of watching a sunset on the edge of Puget Sound while the water turns shimmery ice blue and the sky fades to crimson-orange, rimmed by the dark blue silhouette of the jagged Olympics. Over on the main beach at Golden Gardens to our right, I’ve never seen so many people gathered there. It’s packed.

As the sun slips below the mountains to the west, everyone starts cheering and whooping, and I swear it sounds like the Huskies or Seahawks just scored a touchdown. On this beautiful, warm evening, it’s exhilarating.

Lindsey and I sing a silly song and dance for a minute because there’s good reason to celebrate. After the record-breaking cold spring we’ve had, it’s summer!

Happy solstice!

Fremont Solstice Parade Sneak Peak: The Ice Queens are Hot

2011-06-16T23:38:00.000-07:00

I’m not sure that Seattle’s Fremont district is still the (self-proclaimed) Center of the Universe that it was some years ago, but the Fremont Arts Council’s annual Solstice Parade is still the best quirky, Boho party in the city. And the fabulous Ice Queens are one of the many reasons to catch this festive Seattle arts tradition.

With standout sculptures like Waiting for the Interurban (which locals regularly dress in new clothes), the Fremont Troll, and a massive statue of Lenin from the former Soviet Union, Fremont is a perfect place for a parade that doesn’t allow any written or printed words or logos nor any motorized vehicles (except wheelchairs). And then there are those famous naked bicyclists, although I think they call it street theater.

Tonight the Ice Queen Ensemble had a preview party in Fremont, where the numerous queens were modeling their wildly extravagant creations made primarily out of coffee filters. In a bright, airy space in Fremont with colorful walls and electronica music, the Ice Queens put the finishing touches on their costumes while posing for many pictures. (I think there were almost as many of us photographers as costumes.)

“What’s with the antlers?” I ask Ice Queen Lesley. All their headgear is festooned with red antlers.

“Our theme is based on the Finnish Solstice tradition,” she says. I guess that has something to do with reindeer. I love that these creative women have brought these artistic visions to fruition.

With music playing, cameras clicking, and people swaying, I could just drift right into the equinox. Here in the northern half of the Northern Hemisphere, of course we celebrate the longest day of the year. Whether you go to the Fremont Solstice Parade, or just watch the sunset behind the Olympic Mountains or the Pacific Ocean, have a great Solstice!

When You Go
The Fremont Solstice Parade starts at noon on Saturday, June 18, although the nekked painted cyclists begin riding the route at 11:45. Here is a link to a PDF map of the parade route. I don’t recommend trying to drive and park in Fremont unless you go really early. Hop on a Metro bus or bicycle there instead.

Driving and Hiking the Columbia River Gorge: Lovely Latourell Falls

2011-06-09T21:22:00.000-07:00

I’m a firm believer in Heaven on earth and that it’s unique for everyone. My version of Heaven varies, but today it’s the lush, verdant Columbia River Gorge just east of Portland, Oregon, and its many dramatic waterfalls. Take a hike there above Latourell Falls on a late spring/early summer day when Cascade snowmelt peaks and I bet you’d agree.

Probably it’s my slice of Heaven because I grew up on the Gorge’s western edge and roamed there frequently as a girl. But a drive along the Historic Columbia River Highway and a hike in this misty land of green forests, moss-covered basalt cliffs, and streaming water always leaves me refreshed. Call me Gorge Girl.

The Drive
Like a homing pigeon, on a recent weekend I drive south up the more narrow but still lush Sandy River Gorge from Troutdale, then angle northeast up along bucolic fields through Springdale and Corbett, and past Chanticleer Point (where everyone must stop for the magnificent view upriver) to catch the old highway east.

I always watch carefully for roadside deals at the small farms along the road up to Corbett. Today I grab an extravagant bouquet of plump purple lilacs for only $5, less than half the cost you’d pay at farmer’s markets in Seattle or Portland.

After driving cautiously down the first narrow switchbacks of the old highway around a few blind turns, I stop briefly at the Crown Point Vista House perched 733 feet above the Columbia on a massive basalt outcrop. This lovely, German-style Art Nouveau stone structure dates from the early days of the highway as a rest stop/viewpoint (it opened in 1918), and it still draws many visitors for the same reason.

The Hike
Sure, there are longer and more challenging hikes in the Gorge, but 224-foot Latourell Falls, the first waterfall along the highway east past Crown Point, is a beautiful introduction to the Gorge trails. At a little over 2 miles, with ups and downs totaling close to 1,000 feet in elevation gain/loss, it’s a decent workout.

I start out at the trailhead just east of the bridge over Latourell Creek in Guy W. Talbot Park. It’s a short hike up a paved trail to a nice viewpoint of the waterfall, but continue up the dirt trail to the left.

The trail rises gently and switchbacks up through the dense mixed deciduous-evergreen forest, passing a profusion of moisture-loving plants like maidenhair ferns, trilliums, wood sorrel, and bleeding hearts. Numerous species of native plants unique to the Gorge are not found anywhere else in the world.

Within a half mile or more the trail tops out and then drops down a bit to Latourell Creek above the falls. Today the falls and stream are rushing thick and fast with springtime abundance. I continue on, passing over a few small footbridges over side streams until I hear the roar and feel the mist of Upper Latourell Falls before I see it.

Upper Latourell Falls is almost as dramatic as the lower fall, and hikers can get closer to the base of the falls on another wooden bridge. The columnar basalt is strikingly visible here in angled vertical columns of dark wet rock. As a girl I strayed beyond the bridge closer to the base of the waterfalls, but with slick rocks, it’s not really a good idea.

Since I’m running late to meet friends, I need to pick up the pace on the way back. As I pass above the lower waterfall, in haste I miss a junction and end up at a narrow finger of rock that lies not far above where the waterfall plunges over 200 feet to the creek below. This spot is crossed by a cable to keep people away, but today the cable is lying on the ground and easy to miss. When I get close to the edge and realize where I am, vertigo hits and I have to step back. Be very careful up here! But the view is good up the Columbia River.

As the trail leaves the creek and waterfalls and travels west a bit before dropping back to the highway, the forest understory becomes a bit drier and has less of a rainforest feel. Here in the Gorge you pass through several microclimates, depending on how close you are to a waterfall.

I reach the highway and walk across the historic Latourell Creek bridge back to my car, although the trail continues down below the bridge along the creek far below. As usual after hiking in the Gorge I feel energized and especially alive despite the sweat-inducing exercise. There’s just something magical about the abundant and thriving plant life and coursing streams here. Like I said, it's heavenly.

When You Go
Right now is a great time to go drive, bicycle, or hike past the waterfalls since there’s so much water in our streams and rivers this year. Here’s a map of the western Gorge waterfalls. There isn’t a sign indicating the hike distance at the trailhead where I started, so I couldn’t remember if I would be hiking for a mile or two or more. I recommend sturdy trail shoes since the trail is pretty rocky and damp in places. You can also get to Latourell and the other waterfalls more quickly off Interstate 84 along the Columbia River.

Hiking to Heather Lake: Early Season, Late Snow

2011-06-02T23:44:00.000-07:00

Yes, I know that hiking to an alpine lake in late spring/early summer after a record-breaking snow season is a bit risky. But I’m ready to stray beyond lowland foothills hikes. I can’t resist.

“How about hiking to Heather Lake?” I suggest. “It’s at only 2,500 feet and the freezing level hasn’t gone below 4,000 feet in the last week.” This isn’t the best logic, but it works. My friend Julie is game.

So we drive up north on I-5 from Seattle to Marysville, then head east, taking the Mountain Loop Highway to the trailhead near the base of Mount Pilchuck. We’re not alone. Northwest hikers eager to get out in the mountains have jammed the small parking area and their vehicles spill over onto the roadside. (Heather Lake is a very popular hike, but with the road to the Pilchuck trailhead still closed due to snow, it's especially busy this early in the season.)

After throwing on light jackets and packs, we start on up the trail, immediately heading into thick second-growth forest. The grade isn’t too steep, but with our damp weather lately, the trail is pretty muddy and wet in places. In a few spots it’s literally just a stream crossing. But nothing too intense, and with waterproofed hiking boots our feet don’t get wet.

I’m glad I wore decent boots because the trail is also pretty rocky in some spots. I’m amazed (but not surprised) that I see hikers out in short shorts and flimsy sneakers, especially since I read that the trail is still snow-covered for the last half mile. But everyone happily treks away, regardless of insufficient gear and attire.

Along the trail and slopes are stumps of the behemoth old-growth cedar trees that once graced this area. A mile or so up the trail, we pass through a grove of some big trees that somehow managed to survive the rampant logging. I just have to give one a hug. (Yes, I'm a tree hugger.)

Sure enough, we start hitting snow about a quarter mile below the lake, and it gets pretty deep pretty quickly. Actually the compacted snow is easy to hike on (albeit a little slippery) and the trail is well marked with footprints. Although the real trail might not be exactly where the footprints go, they lead to the still mostly snow-covered lake.

Heather Lake lies tucked in a glacial cirque a couple thousand feet directly below the summit of Mount Pilchuck, stunning in its dramatic setting. Steep rocky cliffs rise abruptly above the lake, which of course today is not so much a lake as a snowfield with a few small openings.

We find a big rock and a snowless tree well beside the lake to sit and grab lunch. A few tree wells back we passed a group of guys cooking up a great smelling lunch. “Hey got any leftovers?” I tease them as we walk past.

I get chilled after sitting and munching lunch for about 15 minutes. Out come a shell, wool beanie, and gloves out of my fanny pack. I wonder how those who wore shorts and sneakers are faring.

We got a fairly late start (about 12:30) so I’m surprised by how many people we pass on the way down who are just making their way up the trail. But this time of year it doesn’t get dark until about 9 p.m. We’re back at the car a little before 4, after about 3 hours hiking this 4+-mile trip. But not before I snapped more shots of some of the lush, lovely native greenery along the trail.

When You Go
Here’s a map and directions to Heather Lake, which is about an hour drive from Seattle. Be sure and register and pay the $5 user fee at the station beside the bathroom. (We didn’t see it until we got back to the car.) You also need to have a Northwest Forest Pass in your vehicle.

Ballard Farmers Market Blues: So Long Anselmo’s

2011-05-30T10:32:00.000-07:00

Don’t it always seem to go, that you don’t know what you got ‘til it’s gone—Joni Mitchell

Seattle’s Ballard Farmers Market regulars were in for a shock yesterday when we were greeted by the sign pictured to the left. No! It can’t be! Another small farm that many of us probably took for granted and assumed would always be around is quitting the farm.

This loss particularly hurts all around. For Marie (Debrusca) Oliver, who started Anselmo Farm with her mother Arlene and Arlene's husband Chuck in 1998, the loss of her livelihood is laced with grief for the death of Arlene last year and Chuck last week.

“Chuck died, and I can’t do it alone,” says Marie.

Ten year ago, when the Ballard Farmer’s Market just began to stay open year-round, Anselmo’s was the only farm that sold fresh local produce there in January. Today this farmer’s market is hugely popular and draws people from all over Seattle, but back then Marie and her mom set up their stand in the small alcove off Ballard Avenue with only a few other crafts stalls. These two friendly, adorable women sat behind a table full of big zip-locked bags of washed braising greens, lettuce, kale, and a rich purple-green spinach called orach, along with leeks and beautiful bulbs of dried shallots, garlic,onions, and more.

It was actually the orach, which I’ve never seen anywhere else, that first got me talking to Marie. “What is this?” I asked. She explained it was a type of spinach and suggested a few ways to use it. I was hooked.

Anselmo Farm was truly a small family farm. Some of the larger, local small farms set up at several of the many Seattle area farmers’ markets and hire people to work at the stalls, so you don’t meet the farmer. Anselmo’s just did the Ballard Farmer’s Market in Seattle. Marie was always there with Arlene (until she passed away last year) and often her sister.

Until yesterday morning, I didn’t fully realize that I looked forward to saying hello to Marie each week as much as seeing the gorgeous produce at the market. Pretty, olive-skinned Marie is everybody’s girlfriend—friendly, gently sarcastic and funny, sympathetic, always greets you by name.

After a moment of panic upon seeing the sign, I find Marie at the stall where her husband cooks up sweet mini-donuts each week. She’s leafing through her small notebook where she records the CSA subscribers and their weekly balance. “Here’s your name,” she tells an older woman. Marie is about to tell the woman how much she’ll be reimbursed, but the woman refuses the refund.

“Your beautiful produce has meant a lot to me over the years, please keep the balance.” Marie’s eyes well up with tears at this kind gesture. “Oh, you’re making me cry!”

I move in and give Marie a hug (I bet Marie got a lot of hugs) and then ask, “Will you be okay?”

“I don’t know. What can you do?” she says circumspectively. “We owe a lot of people money.” They’re going to harvest their garlic when it’s ready and sell it off. Then that will be it for Anselmo Farm.

“But hey,” Marie adds with a smile, “I’ll get to sleep in on some Sunday mornings now.”

So here’s to Marie and Anselmo Farm. Thank you for your hard work, commitment, and wonderful produce over the years. We’ll miss you!