Strawberries on trees...

An unexpected warm and sunny afternoon, and equally unexpected trees in a park in Federal Way. I stole a few moments to snap photographs, wondering what these trees were.



The bright red fruit is round and spiky, and the flowers look like Lily of the Valley. Once I got home,  it took some digging to identify this gorgeous tree. I finally found it on the Sunset site:  a strawberry tree, Mediterranean in origin, blooms from October to December, and produces edible fruit.

Harvest...

Three huge zucchini spent the past few days on the table in my kitchen, a gift from a family friend. They were taking off in the motorhome in a few days, looking for warm weather. I haven't made anything from zucchini for years, but the thought of zucchini bread on a snowy winter day sounded pretty good. So yesterday I finally ran chunks of unpeeled zucchini through the food processor, and froze it into 2-cup portions.

Today, 25 pounds of beefsteak tomatoes are on my kitchen table. I'll chop them in batches and cook them in my biggest cast iron skillet, adding chopped garlic and onion and seasonings, turning them into my husband's favorite pasta sauce.

Penn Cove...

Coupeville is one of my favorite places on Whidbey Island. It's at the end of Penn Cove, famous for its mussels... and blue waters. The town was laid out in the 1850s, platted in 1910, and still has the look and feel of a 150-year-old seaport.

Every time we're here, I'm thankful that Coupeville is a historic district, and protected from rampant development. The town nestles within the first national historic reserve in the country, Ebey's Landing. It was established in 1978 by an act of Congress. Its 22 square miles includes farmlands, two state parks, shorelines and beaches, parks, trails, and 91 buildings and structures on the National Register of Historic Places.

We came early this morning for breakfast, then walked out onto the pier. There were kayakers out for a morning paddle, and a group of people were waiting to board a boat to go tour the mussel beds. 

We had a different goal: a geocache hidden in plain sight on the pier that was causing a lot of fellow cachers a lot of frustration. We found it, yeah! 

On the roof was a group of seagulls, squawking their heads off at something not to their liking. When we walked around behind the building, we saw why: A Great Blue Heron was perched on one end of the roof. Both species were keeping their distance, but it didn't matter. The seagulls were vocal in their dislike, but the heron stood alone and aloof.

We walked inside to check out the displays and the complete whale skeleton that hangs from the ceiling.

And then we headed north toward the bridge, and home. 

I love this island, and would love to live here someday. If we ever do, I know I'll be spending a lot of time here, watching and waiting for photographs.

Sheltering...

A small white cottage near the beach, nestled beneath a huge big-leaf maple in full autumn color. It would make some nervous, others would think only of the acre of huge leaves to be raked each year. To me, I only see a beautiful tree that is protecting, not threatening, the wee cottage in its care.

Red...

We walked through a Japanese sculpture garden in Bellingham yesterday afternoon, before heading into town to find dinner. There was a geocache to be found here, but I was mesmerized by this gorgeous Japanese maple.



The western light shone through the trees, and lit up the maple leaves like a torch. All I wanted to do was sit down underneath the tree, and watch the light playing through the leaves.



We had a Japanese maple in our yard when we lived in Eastern Washington. It was beautiful, but nothing like this 6-foot-tall tree.



The brilliant red against the green foliage was stunning.

The geese are back...

We're heading to Bellingham for a couple of days, then to Whidbey Island. We usually bail off the freeway in favor of driving one of our favorite twisty roads, Chuckanut Drive. It's usually a quick short-cut across the Skagit Valley north of Mount Vernon, and today we got a surprise: the snow geese have arrived.



Every year, snow geese migrate by the tens of thousands from nesting grounds in Siberia and Alaska. The Skagit Valley is one of their major wintering grounds, with more than 50,000 birds typically stopping over between November and early spring. 



They're a month early this year, touching down in the farmlands of the Skagit Valley last week.  



Just a few weeks ago, this was a field of corn that towered way over my head. Today, the stubble draws the geese like a magnet. Even when we pulled off on the shoulder and I got out with my camera, my presence caused no more than a flutter of movement. The geese were far more interested in eating.



There were geese in flight the whole time I stood there, and masses of geese turning every corner of the field white. 

Falling behind...

The past few months I've struggled with keeping my blog current. Between geocaching and hiking (and quilting), there's not been much extra time. I've enjoyed getting out of the house more, especially now that the weather is turning and we're heading into winter. Still, I've missed the time spent editing photographs, and writing. Hopefully I'll catch up in the next couple of days, because we've been to some pretty cool places lately.

And hopefully I'll find some balance again, with time for all the things I love.

They say we should have a dry and cold winter. I don't know about you, but my fingers are crossed for snow!

Autumn at 2800 feet...

The last time we came to Monte Cristo, you could drive right to the townsite. But six years later, a series of winter storms and high water took out the main road bridge over the Stilliguamish River, and the forest service decided not to rebuild the road.

Today it's a four mile hike to get to the townsite, through towering trees on a mostly flat trail that ambles along the river. And that river crossing is now a scary tightrope walk across a massive log. The butt end of the log was easily 5 feet in diameter, and an easy walk. But then it got narrow, and when it fell it broke into a few sections, and I really didn't think I'd make it across the broken parts. But I did, thankfully.

All day we walked and explored along the river, surrounded by brilliant color, and with the snowline just a few hundred feet above us. It was a constant reminder that we're on the brink of tumbling into winter.

We stopped frequently on the hike to the old mining town, as there are many geocaches along this trail. But finally we reached the old logging road and climbed up the last mile to the townsite, and crossed the bridge over the river.

A couple of the old town signs have survived.

The first sign that you've reached the ghost town is this small red frame building, which once housed the electrical equipment that powered the town. It's been restored by a team of volunteers, and now sits on a new foundation. Can you see the curved path at the bottom of the photograph? This is the pathway carved by the original turntable for the railroad. The turntable still exists, and is so well balanced you can move it by hand.

Many buildings still exist, mostly cabins and bungalows used by miners during the town's boom period in the late 1890s. The first wide valley holds several intact structures, but most of the residents lived up a narrow trail to another plateau, where the streets are still visible.



Up the river are the remains of the ore concentrator, once a five-story structure, now a towering pile of huge timbers.

We took time for a late lunch and a last look around, then started the hike back to the trailhead. The clouds were clearing, and the snow was disappearing from the high ridges.

As we walked, several groups of hikers passed us, on the way up to the ghost town. With sunset just a couple of hours away, I hope they know what they're doing.

When we got back to the river, I was dreading that scary walk across the fallen log. So I looked for an alternate, and spotted a man-made "path" of rocks across one of the braided channels of the river. That looked much better to me. The water was low, the rocks were dry, and I got plenty of balance help from my trekking poles. From the island in the middle of the river, it was easy to climb up onto the widest part of the log, and make the rest of the crossing.

We got back to the Pilot just as the light was fading. Perfect timing, and a very good day.

A tree full of chairs...

I carried my camera all over Fremont today, and took only a few photographs. A bummer, but still a good day. We met some German folks here on a geocaching tour, drank good Fremont beer, took a tour of GC.com, and enjoyed a beautiful autumn day in Seattle.

Fremont is full of  interesting sculptures, including my favorite one of JP Patches and Gertrude. But this was a surprise: a tree packed full of old wooden chairs.

Washington's oldest...

We've talked for years about going after the oldest geocache in Washington. We knew there was a steep hike involved, but with Indian summer in full swing, it seemed the perfect time to go.

Autumn is just starting to show its beautiful colors, especially the huckleberries, which are bright red. The vine maples are turning yellow and orange, and the trail is lined with them. It will be a beautiful hike.

We had the trail to ourselves, which suited me just fine. I take the accents at a measured pace, and stop often to look around. Because we came up for a drive in this area yesterday, I knew there were beautiful views to the south, and didn't want to miss any photographs of Mount Rainier.

Once we left the abandoned logging road and started to climb up through the forest, the colors intensified. We walked out into an old clear-cut and there, far below us, we saw Lake Keechelus.



When the trail climbed higher and veered to the west, there it was: Mount Rainier. The day was turning hazy in the late morning, with not much contrast. My eyes had no trouble, but I don't have much hope for good photographs.



After this lovely view, the trail turned north and headed deep into the forest. I was glad when we reached the top of the ridge, and the trail flattened out a bit. We're now on the narrow ridge that runs to Mt. Margaret, then down to Lake Lillian. And we're almost there. The cache is a short bushwhack up a steep hill and over deadfall trees. It was quite easy to find; the tough part was the hike in.

So here we are, three-quarters of the way up to Mount Margaret. Now what? We're so close, we couldn't resist climbing the rest of the way to the top. Where there is another geocache. And more views of Mount Rainier, 40 miles to the south.

So off we went. The trail was lovely, through towering trees and very little underbrush. It was like being in a cathedral. But the trail didn't take us to the top of the peak. Oh, no. We had to break off the main trail onto a very steep game trail that led nearly straight up the slope. I made it two-thirds of the way up a bare slope when my legs gave out. So I stopped and sat down on the trail, and looked at the view while my legs stopped quivering. An eagle soared in the distance, and it was completely silent.

Dave found the cache then came in search of me, and with encouragement (and knowing I'd regret not making it to the top) I pulled myself up the last bit of the open slope and into the woods. There were downed trees to climb over, but I felt safe from falling there. And out I walked into the light on the east side of the ridge, with stunning views of fresh snow in the Enchantments, and the north side of the Stuart range. Amazing.

I took a look at the geocache, we had a snack and photographed the views, then we headed down. Surprisingly, getting back down the game trail was easier than getting up. I used a walking pole (which I couldn't use on the climb up) for balance as I felt for good footing, and just took my time.

Halfway down the game trail, Dave stopped and pointed out cat tracks in a muddy spot. They were not there when we climbed up. This was a bit creepy... the tracks were small, so probably a lynx or bobcat was following us, curious about the invaders in the woods.

The hike out was pleasant, even though the constant downhill pounded my knees and feet. Before I knew it, we were back at the trailhead. Instead of heading west toward home, we went east to Roslyn, where we were happy to settle down at a hewn wood table at The Brick. This is one of our favorite places, a cool historic bar in Roslyn, with the original wide plank floors, back bar, and brass railings. I think they make the best Reuben sandwich and fries of any place we've ever been. DW had a jalapeno burger, and we both finished the day with a tasty beer.

It was a great day. Our next long hike is in a few days, and I can hardly wait.

Long autumn days...

We didn't head out this morning intending to drive all the way to Mount St. Helens. But that's where we ended up. By way of Ashford and Morton, exploring some historic places and walking some trails. A few hours turned into a full day of driving back roads, finding places we would never have found if it wasn't for geocaching.

If you've ever driven to Paradise by way of Ashford, you've passed right by the private collection of huge sculptures made from found materials. We've walked around the place a couple of times; it's very cool. The horses are my favorite sculptures.

We were checking out the beautiful restored train depot in Morton when I discovered the virtual cache at Windy Ridge. How could we be so close and not go?



The two narrow roads that lead to Windy Ridge are in bad shape. When we first started coming down to Gifford Pinchot national forest these roads were gravel and dirt, populated more by sheep and deer than by cars. We'd drive for hours without seeing another car. When the roads were active logging roads, they were in good shape. Now that they're paved they get little maintenance, and the frost heaves in winter are destroying them.

WA-25 leads south from the White Pass highway, through farmland and then climbing into dense forest. I love the drive, and used to take the MX-5 on this road. As we turned onto the Windy Ridge road, the first views of St. Helens made my jaw drop. There is fresh snow on the mountain! We took a side road that once led through creek valleys to a trailhead, but is now grown over on both sides. We squeezed through in the truck, barely. I was hoping for more views, but the hills were tall and crowded together, so we eventually turned around.

When we got back to the Windy Ridge road, the clouds had dropped lower and the mountain was almost obscured. I was disappointed, but it was a good lesson to remember. It's sort of like antique shopping. When you find something you've been looking for, don't pass it up. You probably won't find it again. I know that lesson, have learned that particular lesson over and over. I need to apply it to photography... when I see that perfect view, stop and photograph it. You might not see it again.












We still enjoyed our time at the top, even though it was windy and chilly. Thankfully the bathrooms were open (and warm). The mountain played hide-and-seek with us while we wandered around the overlook, and as we drove down through the area destroyed by the 1980 eruption. As we drove back down the road I kept an eye on the viewpoints, hoping that the clouds would rise again and we'd get the same wonderful view again. Unfortunately, as the sun swung west, it was soon in our eyes.



We took our time getting home, wandering the back roads and stopping to enjoy the views, ending up at the Firehouse in Buckley for dinner. It was a good day.