Tag: cedar

The Bogachiel

August 23, 2018. Deer Lake to Bogachiel Campground

Since I camped in a meadow near a lake, it was inevitable my tent was covered with condensation. It was just a little brisk as I gathered the bear canister and packed.

I went out past the toilet. Given the soil composition and number of visitors, the human waste goes into what can only be described as modified coolers. When necessary, a batch of full ones is swapped (via helicopter I presume) with empty ones. The main takeaway for me was to never, ever buy a used cooler.

I started climbing up from Deer Lake via a different trail. It was 6:30, but once I got past the two main camping areas I was pretty assertive with the “Hey bear” mantra. I didn’t want to startle a black bear sleeping on the trail with a huckleberry hangover.

Although the trail was climbing out of the Deer Lake basin, it did so in a gradual manner through pretty country. At the peak, I started walking along a tree covered ridge. It was perfect as far as I was concerned: up high on smooth trail with cool air.

After a few miles, I reached a break in the trees. I was surprised to see that upper level winds had blown away the smoke from some mountain tops given gorgeous views.

Soon after, the honeymoon was over as the trail descended. The trail turned into a rocky dry creek bed with blow downs. Although the forest was pretty, the condition of the trail detracted from the enjoyment.

Along this portion of trail, some emergency shelters had been constructed many years ago. I am speculating, but I think they were meant for people unprepared for a snow storm. Essentially, they were three sided lean-tos.

The trail followed the Bogachiel River as it grew in size during its descent. Once the trail and river leveled, portions of the trail were overgrown with plants up to my chest and head. What made it treacherous was the occasional hole dug by a badger (or similar sized creature) that could easily swallow a foot and really mess up an ankle.

I pushed to reach a camp on the map called Bogachiel Camp and Ranger Station. It was a challenge, but I got there. Unfortunately, it was missing just two things: a camp and a ranger station. I walked the area three times and found nothing. Instead, I shoehorned myself into a cramped spot in the dark. It was not ideal, but it was my home for the night.

Massive Trees

August 7, 2018. From Big Beaver Camp to Whatcom Pass.

I was glad to get moving in the morning. I could smell the smoke in the air and feel the building heat.

Fortunately, most of my morning would be spent gradually heading upstream along Big Beaver Creek.

There were two immediately striking features in the morning. First, the bluish, opaque stream colored by the grit from snowmelt. Second the huge cedars and western hemlock. Massive trunks supported a canopy of branches a hundred feet up.

This environment was good for toads and their offspring. When I first saw the forest floor moving, I thought it large ants.

This skinny guy was hard to see.
This one was not so hard to see.

The trees were interesting. Their size meant they truly blocked out sunlight from plants below. It struck me how little life there was. Hardly any songbirds, scarcely a sign of deer or squirrels. Cedars and hemlocks produce tiny cones and consume all light. In poignant contrast, the mosquitoes were large, numerous, and happy to see me.

This cedar had to be 20+ feet in circumference.
Quick, who is older?

Due to the absence of wildlife and wind, the cathedral-like forest was hushed, like when you walk into a large empty church. If you stopped, there was an overwhelming sense of space and silence (except for the tinny buzz of mosquitoes).

When light penetrated, it would occasionally reveal an intricate spider web. Try as I might, I cannot get a satisfactory picture of a spider web.

I found a charming stream and got some water that was not silty.

Later, I met a group of two guys and one lady, all young and in a hurry. Selfishly, I was hopeful they had been hiking a while and therefore had cleared all the spiderwebs on the trail. No such luck. Just after I passed the next campground, the webs started again.

A bit later, I met another two-men, one-woman group. They were from South Carolina, up for a friend’s wedding. Fun people.

I climbed over a ridge from Big Beaver Creek and dropped steeply into the next valley with the unimaginative name of Little Beaver Creek. No idea what the would’ve done if there was a medium sized beaver.

Subtly, the flies began to dominate the mosquitoes. Less quick to bite, their size and relentlessness made them more irritating.

One thing about federal parks or recreation areas: they do bridges right.

I made my way up the valley. It got high enough that there was snow and glacier up high across the way. With the heat, the melt created numerous waterfalls. Visually, it was mesmerizing.

Whatcom (pronounced watt come) Pass was my reserved campsite. It had a legendary reputation as an intense climb. It lived up to its reputation. Near the top, some of the wood buttressing the slope had dissolved.

The gray timbers were there to shore up the gravel trail above.

The campsite had a reputation as prone to bear visits. As a result, I ate my dinner about a quarter mile away to cut down on odors. There was a boulder field with a lot of pikas who squeaked their annoyance at me.

I was the last to arrive at the reserved campsite, so I got the least attractive campsite. The best tent pad looked straight down the valley. Mine looked north at a boulder field. I hung up my food and got my tent put together.

I heard the Pikas going off. Then I heard a large rock tumble. I looked and at the edge of the boulder field was a good sized black bear pointed uphill (away). don’t know the proper way to size black bears, but he looked like four Labrador Retrievers mushed together. If you’ve suffered through earlier blog posts, you know I am not a fan of bears. I yelled and he moved a bit and looked at me. Finally, I clapped loudly and he scurried uphill and away from the Pass, in to the trees.

My neighbors came over to see about the ruckus. We had a good chat and they all said they had hung their food. As you can imagine, I did not sleep too well, startling awake to the slightest sound. As you can equally imagine, nothing happened. When I reflected on this bear’s behavior, he seemed to just want to go over the pass and avoid humans. The biggest wildlife lesson on this trip is that animals very much use passes and saddles as transportation highways.