tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51143517052983937072024-03-12T16:33:26.912-07:00ENVIR 495C: Landscape Change in the Pacific NorthwestAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07528135481441371839noreply@blogger.comBlogger11125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5114351705298393707.post-9537783789013758322014-07-21T00:03:00.000-07:002014-09-20T13:27:18.150-07:00Introduction<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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This blog documents the second annual offering of ENVIR 495,
“Landscape Change in the Pacific Northwest”, a 9-day wilderness-based field course
sponsored by the University
of Washington’s <a href="http://depts.washington.edu/poeweb/">Program on the Environment</a>. </div>
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From July 12<sup>th</sup> to July 20<sup>th</sup> 2014, this year being the 50<sup>th</sup> anniversary of the 1964 <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wilderness_Act">Wilderness Act</a>, and the
105<sup>th</sup> anniversary of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Olympic_National_Park">Mount Olympus
National Monument</a>, our course headed deep into the wilderness of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Olympic_National_Park">Olympic National Park</a>. At over one million contiguous acres of wilderness, Olympic National Park and its surrounding USFS wilderness areas, are arguably the largest tract of contiguous, roadless wilderness area in the lower 48. Shockingly, this wilderness is only 20 miles from the rapidly growing Seattle/Tacoma metropolitan area, home to over 4.2 million people, and hotbed of ultra-modern digital technology companies. During our trip, we used the wilderness landscapes of Olympic National Park as a model to understand the ways in which the landscape of the Puget Sound region has
changed in the distant (1000s of years) and recent (last 100 years) past, and what human-imposed changes to the
landscape mean for our future, from ecological, psychological, and
philosophical standpoints. Direct observation of the effects of climate change
and fragmentation on species and ecosystems, was coupled with student-led evening
discussions on a variety of student-chosen topics related to “wilderness” including:</div>
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<ul style="margin-top: 0in;" type="disc">
<li class="MsoNormal" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list .5in;">native
American perspectives and relationships of local tribes to the land
through story telling </li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list .5in;">perspectives
on resource use in and around the national park, largely as debated by
timber-based communities </li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list .5in;">appropriate
lifestyle, development, and settlement patterns for a rapidly growing Puget Sound region</li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list .5in;">wilderness
management concerns for endemic species threatened by changing climate, invasive
species, and historical over-harvest</li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list .5in;">when
and whether active species management is appropriate or antithetical to
the concept of “wilderness” </li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list .5in;">Eco-feminism
and other “unheard” voices offering alternative perspectives on land
conservation </li>
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Readings included classical wilderness
philosophy, as well as the philosophy of modern day writers and
conservationists from this region, with much of our discussion beginning in an online format prior to the start of our wilderness trip. The course was taught by Dr. Tim Billo
(faculty in UW Program on the Environment) and Carter Case (recent graduate of
the UW Program on the Environment).</div>
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The purpose of this blog is to
share the story of our daily adventures in Olympic National Park’s wilderness, and
to invite you to join in discussion of the ideas we wrestled with often deep
into the night during our trip. Each of us have written about a separate day of
the trip, and added our personal impressions on the value of wilderness in
today’s world. To give you a general sense of the location of the terrain we are talking about, a map of our hiking route can be viewed <a href="http://backcountryuw2014.blogspot.com/2014/07/route-map-and-elevational-profile.html" target="_blank">here</a>. Enjoy!<br />
<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07528135481441371839noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5114351705298393707.post-81028136137418291992014-07-20T23:10:00.000-07:002014-09-20T16:37:24.619-07:00Day 1 (July 12, 2014)<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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</xml><![endif]-->From the perspective of Tim Billo (each day of the trip is documented by a different participant).<br />
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<![endif]--><b>Leaving Seattle: A ferry ride and a chance to imagine the glacial legacy of Puget Sound</b><br />
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A trip to Olympic National Park from Seattle usually begins with a ferry ride. If
the mountains aren’t shrouded in mist, the jagged eastern skyline of the
Olympics looms ahead, inviting adventure and solace from the giant metropolis
that has replaced the once-virgin forests on the east side of Puget Sound. Our
trip began much this way, at 8 AM on Saturday morning, July 12th, 2014, an
unseasonably warm, sunny, and windless day unfolding, and most of Seattle still asleep. We
loaded up the vans with 9 days worth of food and other gear, and rushed up I-5
to make the 8:50 ferry out of Edmonds.
By 8:30 it was clear that we were going to have to “hurry up and wait”. The
8:50 ferry was full and there was a mile-long line of RVs and passenger cars
ahead of us, all, like us, trying to escape to the
beckoning beaches and mountains across the sparkling waters of the sound. </div>
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As with most wilderness expeditions, the hardest part is
actually leaving home and getting onto the trail. Weeks of planning, packing,
re-packing, and checking lists lead up to the final joy and relief of the
moment when you finally set foot on the trail. Although first-time
backpackers stress about what they might have left behind, experienced
backpackers are comforted by the notion that whatever you might have forgotten,
you probably don’t really need anyway, and if you do, you will have to either
invent it or learn to do without. And the truth is, that most of the “stuff”
that surrounds us in our daily civilized lives, is not really that useful or
essential to our survival. Packing for a long wilderness trip, where every
ounce of weight counts, forces you to examine and re-examine what is essential
in your life and what is not.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKmu12pFo14H9QY99tQ0rDD7DXU-SzvXXT3-iirXPCD7ITldqjXeh6d9g00tBaJVoGry5nOHNELk9LI0oi7MhsIYVimmbVX29CW_RtikIulnBTZ9-9th09U_iGhGXY85b2QjpsNMORLxo/s1600/DSC_0023.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKmu12pFo14H9QY99tQ0rDD7DXU-SzvXXT3-iirXPCD7ITldqjXeh6d9g00tBaJVoGry5nOHNELk9LI0oi7MhsIYVimmbVX29CW_RtikIulnBTZ9-9th09U_iGhGXY85b2QjpsNMORLxo/s1600/DSC_0023.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Entering the national park; the boundary line is clear, even without the sign which is riddled with bullet holes.</td></tr>
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As the thoughts of checklists scrolled through my mind while
stalled in the ferry line amongst impatient vacation-goers, equally
as anxious as us to escape the heat and bustle of the city, the momentousness and
anticipation of our long awaited wilderness trip finally began to settle in. For
the first time, our entire group was assembled in one place. For the first time
we had the opportunity to go around and introduce ourselves, and share in our
collective nervous anticipation. Today would be the day where we would find out
if all of our training hikes up stairs and around city parks with iron weights
and full jugs of water in our packs would pay off. For me the anticipation of
the academic side of the course was equally appealing. Weeks of independent
reading and participation in on-line discussions would give way to our first
discussion of the trip, this very night, in perhaps the most primitive of
settings: around a campfire in the wilderness. Back to reality, the line finally
began moving and we were rolling our way onto the lower deck of a waiting
ferry. </div>
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From the upper deck of the ship, with a pleasantly cool
breeze whipping through our hair as we
motored across the Puget Sound, we were treated to a magnificent view of the
eastern Olympic Mountains, starting with the twin-peaked Brothers in the south,
the jagged behemoth of Mount Constance dead ahead, and the soft ridges of Mt. Townsend fading into the northeast corner of the
range; a perfect place for an introduction to the field part of our
course. Boating across the Puget Sound is an excellent way to ponder the
legacy of glaciation that shaped the Puget Trough and served in part to isolate
the Olympic Mountains from the Cascades,
leading to distinct differences in the flora and fauna of each range. Whidbey
Island to the north and the approaching Kitsap Peninsula
to the west are giant plains of sediment deposited by the massive ice sheet and
glacial torrents that flowed down what is now the Puget Trough as recently as
12,000 years ago. While alpine glaciers also enlarged around this time, there
were ice-free spaces in mid-elevation valleys in the Olympic Mountains that
served as refugia for a variety of plants and animals, some of which have
flourished and expanded their ranges, moving out across the post-glacial
landscape of the last 10,000 years, and others of which continue to hang on in
little pockets throughout the mountains. We would continue to explore the
legacy of the Vashon and Juan de Fuca lobes of the Cordilleran ice sheet
throughout the coming week.</div>
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The Washington State Ferries, while huge and bulky and
seemingly sluggish, slide along at an incredible clip. It is important to admire the mountain
views while you can, as the forested ridges and sea-cliffs of the approaching Kitsap Peninsula
quickly gobble up the ridge-tops. Even Mount
Constance, famously mis-identified as Mt. Olympus by early European expeditions that made maps of the
areas as they traveled, disappeared behind the ferry terminal in Kingston. Behind the roar of Harleys (always
first off the boat), we were off on our way to Highway 101. Crossing the Hood
Canal (another arm of Puget Sound), the road rose into a stretch of vast miles-wide
clear cuts with toppled trees, brush, and occasionally a group of 2 or 3 spindly
trees left standing here and there as “habitat”. These lands are a matrix of
private and public management. “Public” in this case is the Department of
Natural Resources, and as the road-side signs proudly state, these forests, now
in their third timber rotation, fund our schools and hospitals. Ahead on the
road, the eastern Olympics loom, large and dark, with United States Forest
Service lands somewhat more intact with more conservative cutting practices now
in place. Beyond the uniform canopies of second growth timber land, one can see the ragged
canopies of old-growth forest signifying the boundary with wilderness land
(designated by the 1964 Wilderness Act) also managed by the US Forest Service. </div>
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<b>Land use approaching the national park: Private, DNR, USFS, and Indian Reservation</b></div>
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The trip from Seattle
to the Olympics is an instructive study in landscape change (both in the
spatial sense and the temporal sense). In as little as 30 miles from Seattle
(as the crow flies) one can travel from the heavily urbanized, industrialized,
and densely populated landscape of the east side of the Puget Sound to one of
the most wild and uninhabited areas in the lower 48. Suburban and urban landscapes
encroach on timberlands and the timberlands march right up to the boundary of
wilderness preserves—so much so that the outline of Olympic National Park and
adjoining wilderness areas is clearly visible from outer space.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Our wilderness preserves serve as a reminder
of a regional landscape that as little as 100 years ago, was still comprised largely of contiguous, roadless and wholly intact forest, much of it characterized as
oldgrowth. In 1895, Seattle
already had 40,000 people living in it, but the Olympic Peninsula was still
largely unexplored by Europeans. Access to Port Angeles
was by ferry, not a network of roads, and many myths existed about what lay
behind the imposing ridges easily viewable from Seattle. Now, 100 years later, 4.2 million
people live on the eastern shore of the Puget Sound, with this population set to grow by another 1.5 million over the next 25 years.
The demand for resources from local to international scales has greatly
impacted our landscape, in ways that we are only beginning to come to terms
with as a society, especially as anthropogenic climate change is now thrown
into the mix. </div>
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Traveling around the northeast corner of the Olympic
Peninsula on Highway 101, we passed Discovery
Bay, the first Puget Sound anchorage
of Vancouver’s
ship Discovery in 1792. The madrones (<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Arbutus
menziesii</i>) overhanging the road are just as Menzies described them in his
journals as the surgeon-naturalist of Vancouver’s
expedition (except that there was no road there when Menzies walked that land).
Menzies made detailed descriptions of flora and fauna, as well as the native
peoples they encountered on their journeys. Our next stop would be the
Jamestown S’Klallam reservation where we briefly pondered the native American
presence on the landscape dating back for more than 10,000 years. With much of
their native language lost or forgotten (due largely to violent enforcement of turn-of-the-century US government policies forbidding the speaking of indigenous languages), the very words that describe the natural history of the landscape, and ultimately connect a
people to their native landscape, were lost. Thankfully the Klallam have recovered
much of their language, but they are struggling to recover the stories and
traditions that are so intimately intertwined with their native landscape, that
were also lost with the language. Totem poles, for example, depicting native animals
and spirit creatures, abound on the reservation, but are not part of the
original culture of the tribe. Later, we would have opportunity to discuss native
American concepts of wilderness and legends specific to this landscape in an evening discussion led by student Merrick
Calder (described later in this post).</div>
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<b>Picking up our Park Service Permits: partners in the complex mission of the NPS</b></div>
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Our next stop was the offices of the National Park Service
in Port Angeles.
The National Park Service is charged with the mandate to manage the national
park “unimpaired for the enjoyment of future generations”. The current
interpretation of this verbiage of the 1916 “Organic Act” emphasizes
“unimpaired”. To this end, the park has stringent permitting requirements for
all people (and especially groups such as ours) entering the park, with
emphasis on minimizing impact in ecologically sensitive areas, either by
keeping people out of them altogether, or emphasizing “Leave-no-Trace”
practices. One requirement for groups such as ours, is that every person carries a Park
Service issued bear canister. Olympic (unlike, for example, Yosemite) has had very few problems with bears becoming
accustomed to humans and human food over the years because of this policy, and
they would like to keep it that way. While some view park service regulation as
a hassle and barrier to the “enjoyment” clause, when you consider that the park
has become an international destination for backpackers, the regulation is
necessary. Lax regulation would result in a violation of the “unimpaired”
clause, and ultimately also the “enjoyment” clause both through ecological
degradation and through the encounter of too many people in the areas where backpackers
go to seek solitude. The park service does not actively keep people out of the
park (thus serving the "enjoyment" clause), but quota areas require that sometimes visitors are forced to visit
another part of the park, rather than their number one choice. Luckily for us,
our permits were reserved months on advance.
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<b>Entering the park and beginning our hike: First evidence of the natural history of climate change</b></div>
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Finally, we were on our way up the Deer Park road, with a requisite stop at the
national park boundary. A small sign riddled with bullet holes announces the
entrance to the park, although a sign is hardly needed. The park boundary is
clear. On one side the forest is cut, and on the other it is intact. Heading
uphill into the park, we passed through stands of old, but slow-growing Douglas
fir in this, the driest part of the Olympic Mountains.
Periodic fire probably maintains Douglas fir as the climax species here, unlike
most other areas at similar elevation where western hemlock becomes the climax.
At Deer Park,
the forest is dominated by lodgepole pine. A recent fire, started in the
mid-1980s by an out of control campfire, has aided the dominance of this
species. However pure stands of the tree can be found, even in areas that
haven’t recently burned, with the overall experience much like the dusty
pine-scented east slope of the Cascades. Lodgepole pine is relatively rare in
the Olympics, but these stands give a taste of what is to come with warmer and
drier climates. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGD0sbcumjYz-siaI4sXIS5JsaVwePseMa0IOEJzoF7S8xnBSm2GMNCXZrReyNnFEyQEGhsi1-lf4KaueWHPBgWnjN8PiwLJaFKPcq7F5t9EWdUm82LipGUWrdDWKBHx8SRcYPUuB8Uew/s1600/DSC_0033.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGD0sbcumjYz-siaI4sXIS5JsaVwePseMa0IOEJzoF7S8xnBSm2GMNCXZrReyNnFEyQEGhsi1-lf4KaueWHPBgWnjN8PiwLJaFKPcq7F5t9EWdUm82LipGUWrdDWKBHx8SRcYPUuB8Uew/s1600/DSC_0033.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hiking down through the burn with Douglas fir and lodgepole pine
regeneration in the foreground. Three Forks is in the valley in the
background.</td></tr>
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As we finally left the trailhead behind with the freedom
that comes knowing that you have all you need to survive for over a week on
your back, we passed downwards through the ghost of a forest lost in the
mid-1980s fire. Gravelly alpine slopes dominated by Olympic onion, vetch, phlox,
and desert parsley were interspersed with subalpine meadows full of paintbrush
and other subalpine flowers. Between the widely dispersed trees were patches of
snowberry, service berry, and dull Oregon grape, all drought tolerant plants
forming a community not unlike areas on the east slope of the Cascades at the
shrub-steppe interface. Vanilla leaf grew surprisingly high here too, under the
canopy of patches of Douglas fir that survived the fire.</div>
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As we began to drop below treeline, a large flock of evening
grosbeaks flew overhead landing in the tree tops near us with their ringing
“cleerr” call; a wonderful welcome to the “untrammeled” wild (to use the language of the 1964 Wilderness Act) as the trailhead
finally faded out of view and the hot beating sun became mercifully lower in
the sky.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Quickly we descended through
fat old Douglas firs mixed with subalpine firs and silver firs, the Douglas
firs being remnants of a warmer drier period around 700 years ago that allowed
Douglas firs to move uphill into the subalpine zone. Silver firs continue down
to around 3000 feet of elevation in this part of the Olympics, but they are not
doing well at the low end of their range—as these are remnants of the Little
Ice Age cooling trend that occurred some 500 to 200 years ago. The silver fir
zone will gradually shift uphill here to escape the current warming trend,
unless fire and summer drought are strong enough that lodgepole pine out
competes it. The forests on this hillside form closed canopies, with generally
rocky and nutrient poor soils. Saprophytic plants are common and we found a
beautiful specimen of candy stick (<i>Allotropa virgata</i>) at the side of the trail.
Nearing the bottom of the valley, the trail passed through an interesting grove
of Pacific yew, known for the compound taxol, used in a chemotherapy drug. Yew
has one of the broadest ecological tolerances of any tree in the Olympics,
growing well in the wettest valley bottoms and the driest ridges. Interspersed
with the yews was one loan hazel nut tree, a species that is hyper abundant in
the forested parks of Seattle, but only one of two I would see on our whole trip.</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNh6m48vXeL2S6T7aKWS3QpclOa_SaCz1hvk5E8HGYn7P7a7HMoGK3mTSW4yZrFGAvQznJC28XQ-Ak6mx3eZhCx4s5_iAZf30pj4Ii12mqWSobhQhqI3CZOJLHKnsOelAb5r1rJiKI3Jg/s1600/candy+stick.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNh6m48vXeL2S6T7aKWS3QpclOa_SaCz1hvk5E8HGYn7P7a7HMoGK3mTSW4yZrFGAvQznJC28XQ-Ak6mx3eZhCx4s5_iAZf30pj4Ii12mqWSobhQhqI3CZOJLHKnsOelAb5r1rJiKI3Jg/s1600/candy+stick.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Candy Stick (<i>Allotropa virgata</i>), a saprophytic plant that lacks cholorphyll (and probably gets its energy from decomposing plant material), is well-adapted to the intense shade of the closed canopy. Photo by Anthony Dang.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The trail from Deer Park to Three Forks
(the confluence of the Cameron, Grand, and Gray Wolf Rivers) drops 3,500 ft. in
4 miles. The trail sucks you ever downward to about 2000 feet of elevation at the
bottom of the canyon at Three Forks camp. And the valley floor really is
canyon-like, with a deep V-shape profile, indicating that mountain glaciers
probably never descended this far down these particular valleys. </div>
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Once you are in the valley, you feel like you are really entrenched
in the wilderness. There is no easy way back to the trailhead. It’s like taking
the plunge into an icy lake (which we would do several times in subsequent
days). Three Forks is a tiny grassy clearing in the midst of a low elevation
old-growth forest. Giant grand firs and western hemlocks ring the clearing. A
large Douglas maple is at the back of the clearing
and red alders border the stream. Last year there was an outbreak of hemlock
looper caterpillars ravaging the hemlock trees in the clearing (and hemlocks
all over the park), but these seemed to be receding this year. Outbreaks will
likely become more common with climate change and will affect the composition
of our forests. </div>
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<b>Encountering the Legacy of early Euro-Americans, and a discussion of Indigenous concepts of the land</b></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQoxNFuIjxIQ9BfkDQlpYOhjVcF2C4aWUufWjph7NiZPSmqxkwCxUsr1WPI_4SR-fCmgsUFFWxWlGdPUEwG6sZo2omDm-MR_VUbT0fhJVFnS64O3LZI0UI3CgtTGAbTIILnwy8PVhVGiQ/s1600/DSC_0040+(Medium).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQoxNFuIjxIQ9BfkDQlpYOhjVcF2C4aWUufWjph7NiZPSmqxkwCxUsr1WPI_4SR-fCmgsUFFWxWlGdPUEwG6sZo2omDm-MR_VUbT0fhJVFnS64O3LZI0UI3CgtTGAbTIILnwy8PVhVGiQ/s1600/DSC_0040+(Medium).JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The CCC shelter at 3 Forks built using the trees that once filled this clearing. There were once many more shelters like this one in the Olympics, but most have been removed or destroyed, some illegally by devious souls, who believe shelters are antithetical to the wilderness experience. The remaining structures are deemed "historic" structures that are maintained by the park's "wilderness carpenter". Now there's a cool job.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
In the middle of the clearing, there is rough-hewn three
sided shelter made from the trees that were cut to make the clearing, which
served as a CCC camp in the 1930s. The CCC built all the trails in the heart of
the Olympic Mountains and one feels a sense of
that historic legacy and connection to the men of the CCC when camping at Three
Forks. Despite the fact we carry lightweight tents and stoves, and clothing
made of space-age materials, the essence of camping today is really not that
different from how it was back then. A campfire ring in front of the shelter
would be the site of our evening discussion and has probably been the site of
countless discussions over the years. As darkness falls on the clearing, stars
twinkle in the night sky above it, ringed by the looming darkness of an
all-encompassing forest. It is easy to see why early settlers feared and
loathed the forest which seemed to encroach on them from all sides, barring
progress and harboring mis-understood predators (such as wolves and mountain
lions). Undoubtedly wolves were once common in the Olympics before the last
known individual was exterminated around 1920—and the Gray Wolf valley, our
hiking route for tomorrow was undoubtedly one of those places. Mountain lions
still lurk throughout the range, and in recent years there was one said to be
living in a cave across the river from us. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLUOKOh5AcENtiyLt_hgv8ADzjoScSbKBcmkLJ7WtD-qX4IpJW2JwmzNFj1CUzVnumU-4EyCiTWTt_lRKLkoM9TXZzt96qFAoKHBGHy7xYxlY5pY4u3vk2o7hoYIddY2XzmYP9CsHJFbA/s1600/DSC_0056.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLUOKOh5AcENtiyLt_hgv8ADzjoScSbKBcmkLJ7WtD-qX4IpJW2JwmzNFj1CUzVnumU-4EyCiTWTt_lRKLkoM9TXZzt96qFAoKHBGHy7xYxlY5pY4u3vk2o7hoYIddY2XzmYP9CsHJFbA/s1600/DSC_0056.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The most human of traditions; story telling around a campfire. Merrick began our first evening discussion by recounting several Native American legends pertaining to the Olympic Mountains.</td></tr>
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As day faded into night, and the food was hung (or placed in
bear-proof canisters), Carter stoked up the fire and Merrick
led us into a discussion of native American relationships to wilderness (a
concept that really had no meaning to Native Americans in the sense that it
existed in the minds of European peoples). Merrick made the comment that before
even the CCC boys sat here discussing life around the fire, native Americans
may have been here in this very place huddled around a fire as much as 10,000
years ago (as evidenced by middens found in the mountains). Storytelling is
perhaps the most human of traditions around the night fire, and Merrick
entertained us with a variety of local creation legends from the first peoples
of the Puget Sound region. He explored the
spiritual and ecological relationship that Native Americans traditionally
developed with nature, and specifically, an animist (as opposed to humanist) belief
system that allowed Native Americans to develop deep respect and reverence for
the non-human world, and indeed placed them squarely amidst the larger
community of plants and animals as opposed to separate from it. The humanistic
beliefs of Europeans, on the other hand, led to the European conception that
man was apart from and above the non-human world, and the invention of the
concept of wilderness was no exception to this rule. Merrick
asked us all to think about what animals we connect most strongly with on a
spiritual level, and asked us to choose a “spirit animal” for ourselves. He
asked us to think about how that spirit animal might allow us to connect to
nature in a different way, and to imagine ourselves as that animal over the
ensuing days as we traversed the range. </div>
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As the fire faded, we threw in some lodgepole pine cones collected
on the upper part of the trail. Sealed shut with resin, the heat of the fire
allows the scales to open and releases the seeds—part of the species’
adaptation to fire. As for me, I retired to my tent, content to rest with the
steady roar of Grand Creek in my ears. For me, Three Forks feels like a home,
and this night was the beginning of an annual pilgrimage into the Olympic Mountains that I have been making for the last 14
years.</div>
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My personal reflections on wilderness will be coming in a later post. </div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07528135481441371839noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5114351705298393707.post-60907604587521112172014-07-19T15:37:00.000-07:002014-09-20T12:29:45.520-07:00Day 2 (July 13, 2014)<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: center;">
DAY 2<o:p></o:p></div>
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As told by Jake Schiffler<o:p></o:p></div>
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The second day of our journey into the wilderness of the
Olympics, the first full day in the park, I find myself calling the
Introduction. Our relationships with the surroundings and with each other were
still raw and each moment was setting up our expectations for the rest of the
trip. The tents were put away for the first time, our first breakfasts were
cooked (or not cooked, for those who opted for granola) and our backpacks were
packed with slightly more efficiency than they were the day before. Our shoulders,
feet, and joints had only an inkling of understanding of the trials they would
be put through over the next 8 days.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGVYTf_LmdNgpEF6J8u6H8W222qdxQtvDHFKOa3flpAzY8BnT_nYaQ08IgiUfBCdZrQ07_COB0UoRAD9FCeq_tmjTO6A4KJWpYUghaxe_8xFkGvFshLzt409PER5ozNj_H3W5MApnE0lo/s1600/DSC06114.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGVYTf_LmdNgpEF6J8u6H8W222qdxQtvDHFKOa3flpAzY8BnT_nYaQ08IgiUfBCdZrQ07_COB0UoRAD9FCeq_tmjTO6A4KJWpYUghaxe_8xFkGvFshLzt409PER5ozNj_H3W5MApnE0lo/s1600/DSC06114.JPG" height="640" width="478" /></a></div>
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Crossing the Grey Wolf</div>
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The hike began at the merging of the Grey Wolf River with
two other rivers and right off the bat we crossed the first of many log
bridges. I was thankful for the handrail as I felt the felled tree absorb each
of my heavy footsteps. A quick slip and I would be taking a refreshing dip a
little earlier in the day than I bargained for. As far as I can figure, this is
the lowest elevation we hiked at all trip. It’s the most familiar hiking, for
me at least. I am used to trudging through heavily forested areas where the
sweeping views of mountains are obstructed by layer after layer of gnarled
trunks and a ceiling of boughs looms constantly overhead. Most might agree that
hiking along a ridge top or through a subalpine meadow is more breathtaking
than walking on the hot and stuffy forest floor. I don’t think this is
necessarily the case with our group. Although the majestic views of mountaintops
are lacking, there is so much to take in around us that there is a wealth of
marvel in all of us. Birds flit through the branches singing out to us
occasionally. Tim usually sings back. A branch snaps somewhere off trail and my
head swivels to see what woodland creature caused it. Fungi grows vibrantly and
alien-like on the butts of trees.<o:p></o:p><br />
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I don't even know what this is. [wild ginger, genus <i>Asarum</i>]</div>
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We crossed the Grey Wolf River a few more times and the
architecture of the forest began to change. The trees are getting bigger and
more spread out. A silver fir shows up occasionally, amongst the Douglas firs
and cedars. At the bases of the biggest trees, the blacked scars left by fire
are apparent. Tim informed us that about twenty years ago a fire came through
here, started by careless campers. Since the burn a new wave of succession has
come through, and now the floor is littered with the matchsticks that were
unable to beat the competition. The canopy opens up some to let the still young
trees grow towards maturity. The occasional legacy tree towers over them and
reminds us all of the younger growth’s true potential. This is real old growth,
and as we walked I found myself wondering where the nearest spotted owl was.<o:p></o:p><br />
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Now that's a tree.</div>
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We reached Ellis Camp and had our lunch there. It was the
first time many of us had tasted the wonders of wasa bread. I don’t know if
there are words I can use to describe the impossibly dry, yet strangely
satisfying feeling I get from a cracker drizzled with peanut butter. I also
don’t know if I will ever have one again.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Following lunch was one of the highlights of my day. The
solo walk. It was our first chance focus in silence on the forest around us
without the presence of other humans. Despite the interruption of a group of
other hikers going the opposite direction, I found great solace in the intimacy
and seclusion of the walk. Soon after the solitude began, I passed the massive
Doug fir trees that were some of the biggest we would see in the whole park. I
felt much smaller on my own than I did while in the company of others, and it
gave me an oddly comforting feeling that I didn’t really matter, at least not
to the surrounding forest that would outlast me many times over.<o:p></o:p></div>
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During the walk, I saw Anthony standing in an open section
of the trail, where the trees gave way to allow a trickle of water to drain
down to the rushing river below. After a moment of confusion, Anthony motioned
for me to come over. I did and he handed me Carter’s binoculars, then slipped
off quietly up the trail. I stood for few minutes, gazing upslope at the
waterfall that was the source of the stream at my feet, and across the valley
at the opposing slope. There was a single patch of snow high above, some bare
patches of hillside indicating landslides, and of course the tumbling waters of
the Grey Wolf below.<o:p></o:p><br />
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The pack reunited, and after a quick recounting of our solo
walks, we continued onward. And upward.<br />
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As we gained elevation, the composition of the forest
continued to change. We passed through the silver fir zone, gained our first
views of the Alaskan yellow cedar, and a few of the conical subalpine firs even
began to show up. All the while the ever-present Douglas firs remained.
Occasionally I’d stop to pick up a cone for use later.<o:p></o:p></div>
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At this point in the trip, I can tell a Douglas fir from a true fir, and I can pick out a hemlock if I can see its drooping crown. But at
Falls Camp, the wide variety of the tree species [at least 7 species of conifer all within 100 m] surprised me and my
identifying skills tended to come up short. The trees that established their
presence centuries ago in another era of climate are amazing. Their age and
ability to endure allow them to defy the biological requirements one would
generally expect of their species. Light is beginning to be shed on the many
factors that go into to putting the puzzle pieces of a landscape’s history
together.<o:p></o:p></div>
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We all claimed land to erect our tents and then gravitated
towards the river to wash the grime and dirt from our bodies and also to pray.
A few of us wandered up to the meadow and watched the bees buzz about the
flowers, while others rested their bones and set about making dinner. <o:p></o:p></div>
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After dinner, we talked wolves in what would be one of my
favorite discussions of the trip. Tess and Serena gave us a thorough briefing
of the subject and then led us through the chat with many questions. To me, the
Olympic wolves issue is unique because they are gone and have been gone from
the peninsula nearly long enough to be out of living memory. From what I have
experienced thus far in the park, the environment does not seem to be broken.
It forces me to think again about Kareiva’s argument that nature is
resilient.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This is not to say that the wolves’
extirpation has left the park unaltered; the effects of their extermination
have cascaded through the levels of life on the peninsula in more ways than
humans have been able to record. Marmots on the edges of the park are
disappearing, perhaps due to the encroaching of coyotes into the area, elk and
deer may be altering the flora and damaging riparian zones, but on the whole,
everything more or less still seems to function.<o:p></o:p><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
Wolf Chat</div>
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And yet as we sat around the fire and chatted, I couldn’t
help but imagine the ghosts of wolves wandering through the trees around us. It’s
undeniably sad that they are no longer here, at least I think so. The idea that
wolves could potentially re-populate the Olympics from Oregon, Eastern
Washington, or Canada in a Watership Down-ian pilgrimage fascinates and
inspires me. How realistic this option is may be questionable, but I think for
many it is the ideal one. The opposition to wolf reintroduction is based on
stigmas and stereotypes, not at all on the scientific observations made on
their behavior. Maybe if the people who dissent could be convinced that wolves
wouldn’t actually come blowing their houses down they would have a different
opinion. <o:p></o:p></div>
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And then night fell and the discussion began to peter out.
Our sleeping bags began to call to us and we trickled off in the directions of
our respective tents. The ground was lumpy and uneven in a way that can only be
comforting while one is in the wilderness.<o:p></o:p></div>
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At day two, it was very hard to actually appreciate the
isolation of the land. The buzz of the city was still too fresh in my mind. I
hadn’t settled into the simple rhythm of backcountry life yet and wouldn’t
fully until another day or two later. However, when I did acclimate to the quieter,
rougher style of living I would not be eager to return. There was a quote that
our fearless T.A. Carter read to us one morning from Thoreau. I don’t remember
the exact context, but a few words hung in the mosquito-infested air of Cedar
Lake and stuck with me. The tonic of wilderness. It’s a little sad to admit but
when in the wilderness, I realize it is just that. A cure for the
mind-numbingly complex yet absurdly trivial lifestyle that comes with city
life. I know that city life doesn’t need to be that way and often isn’t, but I
tend to get bogged down by it nonetheless. Each trip into these environments
dominated by non-human life serves as a reminder to me that life doesn’t have
to and shouldn’t be so inundated with the superficial. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Looking around, I see all of the pieces of the ecosystem.
Valleys carved by glaciers, birds hopping around snowfields looking for frozen
insects, flowers blooming where snow has melted and allowed them to grow. A
person can spend an entire career studying just one of these things and barely
scratch the surface of all there is to know about them. The organisms, land
formations, and systems are infinitely complex. But for me, when I stand in a
meadow and drink in all the complexity, the sum of all the parts is so simple. This
is certainly the perspective of an outsider, but that is to a certain extent
how I feel in the wilderness. In one sense, like Muir says, I may be coming
home, but in a more literal sense, it isn’t where I live. The simplicity of
everything coexisting in wilderness like national parks, untouched (mostly) by
humans, is an example which I try to draw from because ultimately whatever
lessons I take back to the city from it will help to improve the quality of my
life and also my ability to coexist sustainably with the natural world. <o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07528135481441371839noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5114351705298393707.post-62260567116889869492014-07-18T00:00:00.000-07:002014-09-20T22:34:52.446-07:00Day 3 (July 14, 2014)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
The tent shook violently followed by Tim yelling, "Yo yo! Time to wake up!" I woke up startled at first of my surroundings but soon remembered where I was. This was the second night that I had dreamed heavily about things back home causing a bit of a startle when I would wake up in an unfamiliar setting. This was the third day and I had yet to fully assimilate to living in the back country living only with bare essentials.<br />
<br />
After a couple of minutes of recollecting where I was, rubbing my tired eyes and allowing the cool morning air to be drawn in from a yawn. A chill broke through me as I slide out from my sleeping bag warning me of the cold that was to accompany breakfast. I stuffed my sleeping bag back in its cover, and quickly layered myself in thick clothing to battle the morning cold. I then stepped out of my tent prepared for the next day of this adventure.<br />
<br />
Tess and Meranda were already out of their tents engaging in morning stretching and loosening up from the cold night. We collected our bear canisters and started a pot of boiling water for a breakfast consisting of oatmeal with powdered soy milk and drank hot chocolate relishing in the warmth both brought. There was a brief moment of dissatisfaction expressed between Tess and I as we realized that we had gone two mornings without coffee that we depended on to be able to function in the morning.<br />
<br />
We were quick to have breakfast and pack all our gear in the hopes that we would reach our next campsite as early as possible to enjoy the day. Today was to be a rest day after roughly 10 miles of hiking we had accomplish the days prior.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiicbcx7LMeTYHDCZXcNWeuooQOSz-m43fFTihT0AsdK_QWAXYIkNtfK6VG6MtjtRc1m-w_SV0THDuBCtVVElKg94-7jZVuyHFVRgPuxLaMIuGmAQs2EO0FvGDUyrNki92wAyH2gsUGCo/s1600/DSC_0110.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiicbcx7LMeTYHDCZXcNWeuooQOSz-m43fFTihT0AsdK_QWAXYIkNtfK6VG6MtjtRc1m-w_SV0THDuBCtVVElKg94-7jZVuyHFVRgPuxLaMIuGmAQs2EO0FvGDUyrNki92wAyH2gsUGCo/s1600/DSC_0110.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>On the hike through an especially diverse area for conifers. This low elevation meadow is already filling in with trees as the winter snowpacks become lower and lower each year; credit Tim</i></td></tr>
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The hike was a taste of what strenuous hiking was going to be like on our trip. In 2 miles we would climb about 2,000 ft with the first 30 min of hiking had us traversing on a 35-45 degree slope. We first traversed through an old forest that then lead us to our first meadow of wildflowers and low lying plants. The meadow was expansive ranging from a forest boundary to the steep rocky surfaces of a low peak. Tim had said this was prime bear viewing but we never saw a bear on this day.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS8iu_uivVU7VhQMZMwZA7KaqQFNiPP3mZDukrN4qE0YF2WR33HTk9HoTwXkLgw3O56JyplgjGrID2hz3r6GOF-pCFUhMlvx5IJ938ZqDMzoXBNcGTUp_H07jA2UDV7UbNRA3b8MB-gho/s1600/DSC_0116.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS8iu_uivVU7VhQMZMwZA7KaqQFNiPP3mZDukrN4qE0YF2WR33HTk9HoTwXkLgw3O56JyplgjGrID2hz3r6GOF-pCFUhMlvx5IJ938ZqDMzoXBNcGTUp_H07jA2UDV7UbNRA3b8MB-gho/s1600/DSC_0116.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>The meadow; credit Tim</i></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Elephant heads.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHBoimARajUXrmh4i9Op4ezqD8X61imISM46MrWEO-uhy8GUIzmRkGdsTC3z0zH0g2mCfcpwebf-Xq5_YBPbZd20otegW7zTjYMGxUJMII9pKTYgIIZsb0qPsPfRbFW77_NA1jNck3XgQ/s1600/DSC_0118+(Medium).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHBoimARajUXrmh4i9Op4ezqD8X61imISM46MrWEO-uhy8GUIzmRkGdsTC3z0zH0g2mCfcpwebf-Xq5_YBPbZd20otegW7zTjYMGxUJMII9pKTYgIIZsb0qPsPfRbFW77_NA1jNck3XgQ/s1600/DSC_0118+(Medium).JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photographing the unusual elephant head flower.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvfJ7UwLZ3LIDmFKJUen8kKPm6EvQlOl0DNdxRMpmZ_t0FyQtGESDtJOUrSg1FcpGtwaINoJ-m03vrt32A-Y1BbTshgIZ8mk-UCGdS_mYekWnrYBDgog0z2uOJlr71VY2kN0-0ZIbTprA/s1600/DSC_0113+(Medium).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvfJ7UwLZ3LIDmFKJUen8kKPm6EvQlOl0DNdxRMpmZ_t0FyQtGESDtJOUrSg1FcpGtwaINoJ-m03vrt32A-Y1BbTshgIZ8mk-UCGdS_mYekWnrYBDgog0z2uOJlr71VY2kN0-0ZIbTprA/s1600/DSC_0113+(Medium).JPG" height="320" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A tree scarred by a bear's claws. This damage was fresh on our 2013 trip. Bears are starving when they come out of hibernation and will strip the bark off fir trees to expose the nutritious sap. It tastes quite good...you have to try it to believe it.</td></tr>
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The trail took us to a small waterfall that was created by fallen logs. We decided to take a rest and refill empty water bottles and restore lost energy with food. We then took a small excursion back to the the meadow to look at the flowers and butterflies that were found everywhere. I distinctly remember a beautiful flower called Elephants Head that was easy to see why it had been called such as each flower was in the shape of an elephants head.<br />
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We then returned to our packs, loaded up, and kept progressing forward. For the next part we had to cross Cedar Creek causing some of us to get wet. While most of our boots could remain dry on parts of the low flowing creek, most of us had to take a deep plunge causing one boot and socks to get wet. Others had preferred to switch to camp shoes and pack their socks away. After crossing and a brief few minutes of drying our feet off we were on our way again.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoTlsswBuycAgfKuEf5CRzcIOmi-Z5Y5ldhZvUX5I8M3QhO7iBSgj4NaGVVbwCvq0gMxAc3yaYjoXD7QoC6uuRhMLTSUSv51GipNU7JSfKZANyRuhPOJmyqvX6PlmHuSrkCOaO-sERjFY/s1600/DSC_0144+(Medium).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoTlsswBuycAgfKuEf5CRzcIOmi-Z5Y5ldhZvUX5I8M3QhO7iBSgj4NaGVVbwCvq0gMxAc3yaYjoXD7QoC6uuRhMLTSUSv51GipNU7JSfKZANyRuhPOJmyqvX6PlmHuSrkCOaO-sERjFY/s1600/DSC_0144+(Medium).JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wet feet crossing the stream</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Finally approaching Cedar Lake, hidden beyond the next rise, and below the peak.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A frigid swim ensued.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A fern that thrives in rocks around snow fields.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Headed back to the tents for evening discussion with alpenglow on the peaks above. </td></tr>
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The trail continued to climb up and follow along Cedar Creek as Cedar Lake was considered an alpine lake being fed water from melting snow and whatever remnants of a glacier existed. We hiked through avalanche blowouts and open areas as the forests gradually changed from low old growth to alpine. With one final push up a steep hill and battling swarms of mosquitoes, we arrived at Cedar lake just before lunch time.<br />
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The lake itself was a beautiful example of what geological process' created. The north side of the lake consisted of forrest vegetation and small alpine plants. As you wrapped around the western the conifers began to get small leading into moraines and boulders left from the glacier. The southern slope consisted of only a carved slope with some conifers existing only closer to the top of the ridges. The eastern side displayed a large snow bank from the last winter; melting creating small water falls and creeks that fed into the lakes. The lake was also home to many Rainbow Trout that flourished. Unfortunately I couldn't bring a rod and reel to go fishing. <br />
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We were quick to set up tents and pull out bug sprays as the lake was swarmed with mosquitoes. Many people climbed used the tents as cover or layered themselves to prevent any skin from being exposed to attack. I personally had to wear my sneakers, socks, rain pants, rain jacket, a bandana wrapped around my mouth and nose, sunglasses and a baseball hat with the jackets hood up just to be able to work around the camp with out being eaten. Lunch for my group consisted of mac and cheese with Wasa crackers, salami, and Tilimook cheese.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>East side of the lake. Jake journaling; credit Tim</i></td></tr>
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As we had woken up early and only traveled 2 miles there was still much of the day left over for personal activities and enjoyment. Many chose to go swimming in the freezing water hoping to cool off and clean as much of the sweat, sun block, and bug spray away from their skin. I chose instead to explore more of the area feeling that a campsite would not be enough to enjoy the beauty of the area. I traversed over the large boulder field finding a chipmunk scurrying through it and an underground creek that only exposed itself a couple of times.<br />
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Later in the evening after a large meal (that I have unfortunately forgotten) we proceeded into Jakes discussion. For the discussion all 10 of us sat in two tents that were Carters and mine, and Tess' and Merand's due to trying to protect ourselves from the bugs. Jakes discussion followed a reading we read that put into perspective about loggers and their impact on forests. The main distinction that we were able to conclude was that loggers are not oblivious to environmental issues. They equally have concern for the health of forests because their livelihood depends on the ability to cut down forests. The discussion did turn to the issue that the logging community has a negative stigma towards Spotted Owls as their need for preservation prevents loggers from cutting down trees which overall prevents an income for loggers. Overall the discussion was balanced as really any issue or side could be strongly argued.<br />
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Afterwards we all separated to our tents for the night. Carter and I had chosen to leave our rain flies off and fall asleep gazing at the stars as the threat of rain was very small. At that point I started to think about what nature meant for me. Nature has always inspired me to believe in one thing, how the power and beauty of nature is a random event. Our blue planet was luck enough that it was able to collect water, create a moon, and reside just far and close enough to the sun to create life. Had one variable been off, then nothing that we see today could have existed. When I see nature I see the science behind it that made it to what it was. Evolution allowed us to grow from single-cell organisms to walking, thinking creatures that have developed the skill to reason and think. Plants evolved into a carbon rich environment that not only allowed them to survive but to regulate and balance the planet. The abilities for what science and nature can show I believe has no end. We are already seeing an increase in findings of planets outside of our solar system that have the potential to support life. Who knows what else we will find in 100 years or more.<br />
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<i>-Written by Merrick Calder </i><br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07528135481441371839noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5114351705298393707.post-65658269832033839242014-07-17T09:47:00.000-07:002014-09-20T16:32:51.107-07:00Day 4 (July 15, 2014)<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="line-height: 115%;">Day 4<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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From the perspective
of Serena Starr<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjifB_46Dndp_L4NPB9rcZ6-TQWbLgt1UojbyWuXiP455pQltCO46eg0Bfx6bkWrjrEnTirbTMEtf-iqbTWOHmRn26yXTln46-HoFvHqMULtwRalI5WhX27pevwZkHimXCfqYaABWA5Tt0/s1600/DSC_0202+(Medium).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjifB_46Dndp_L4NPB9rcZ6-TQWbLgt1UojbyWuXiP455pQltCO46eg0Bfx6bkWrjrEnTirbTMEtf-iqbTWOHmRn26yXTln46-HoFvHqMULtwRalI5WhX27pevwZkHimXCfqYaABWA5Tt0/s1600/DSC_0202+(Medium).JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pausing at the base of the snowfield, by a small snow cave with a blast of cool air on this hot day. This snowfield is a remnant of the glacier that was in this valley not 200 years ago. Extensive vegetation has yet to recolonize the valley. Note the small moraine in the background.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The group in the same place, but looking back towards Cedar Lake.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nearing the top of the snowfield.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Rana cascadae</i> from the tarn we swam in later that day.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyXdPTCJGzSWfcA3wciZ4mEg1jdswLJlZk6bBDbCTm7_GwYuusbCVBmTr9Sm7_y3H2JVRlgPwZzK_mxhcBbpRRqUgq-pFmF275o4Jn851Cxq37ajQJwR4cYuq3c5tKlL-rdqNzp-Slc-E/s1600/DSC_0282+(Medium).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyXdPTCJGzSWfcA3wciZ4mEg1jdswLJlZk6bBDbCTm7_GwYuusbCVBmTr9Sm7_y3H2JVRlgPwZzK_mxhcBbpRRqUgq-pFmF275o4Jn851Cxq37ajQJwR4cYuq3c5tKlL-rdqNzp-Slc-E/s1600/DSC_0282+(Medium).JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Begining the steep trek down to the tarn, after passing by some small lakes that were still sow covered.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl9Nlq5iP48u5hfKlMG67CJu1t4zojGd5ecAoRgDTwkXh7MMAPnLs_avZIN1WIQ0itI9vgnZQFrA1XQ4Ryyb0-XxXpJzxfzcfp0RYVvVUQE20VvR9Toq_lX_aAnhi0-qqfOwBvFEYgLOM/s1600/DSC_0283+(Medium).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl9Nlq5iP48u5hfKlMG67CJu1t4zojGd5ecAoRgDTwkXh7MMAPnLs_avZIN1WIQ0itI9vgnZQFrA1XQ4Ryyb0-XxXpJzxfzcfp0RYVvVUQE20VvR9Toq_lX_aAnhi0-qqfOwBvFEYgLOM/s1600/DSC_0283+(Medium).JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Down, down, down...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeYpe54eP-OEaZhnVp_0PEi2ysAt8sP3oqg71lNmnkwC4nf4olqfbN064-bTKRYiRf5haSiSdkDDpopW8R1EHXXerO0uADCj5Jr_stqJjWhOKr_w_jEQdRnz4bCrjxTnh0a0CBRyj32zA/s1600/DSC_0296+(Medium).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeYpe54eP-OEaZhnVp_0PEi2ysAt8sP3oqg71lNmnkwC4nf4olqfbN064-bTKRYiRf5haSiSdkDDpopW8R1EHXXerO0uADCj5Jr_stqJjWhOKr_w_jEQdRnz4bCrjxTnh0a0CBRyj32zA/s1600/DSC_0296+(Medium).JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Having completed the off-trail traverse from Cedar Lake to the Gray Wolf Trail, now charting the path for the afternoon and evening.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRmfiTZAy8v_hhgUmDtyAlGoatibB20DGfpJzXlcAOot-KJxnOBs2m5tntKQQSrgZmQprelOzVrTCSEdDYzpBFs0NEM57NxVay8k7BHmKnMcx8Zv7E8GV6ezR6vfAjUihu1jK_q29ebm8/s1600/DSC_0294+(Medium).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRmfiTZAy8v_hhgUmDtyAlGoatibB20DGfpJzXlcAOot-KJxnOBs2m5tntKQQSrgZmQprelOzVrTCSEdDYzpBFs0NEM57NxVay8k7BHmKnMcx8Zv7E8GV6ezR6vfAjUihu1jK_q29ebm8/s1600/DSC_0294+(Medium).JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Refreshing dip on a hot afternoon. Thankfully, no bugs at this lake!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOqfCVBze7TfAOIJIGKR2bWwSyd5SXAukdMJmPRc6xzroifzKOHfRvtcciVnxf_8zdG4CScn7QuWfJME9CKRM-GLCbZhZHQgz9rHlhLqazWltjyUqfLwiarfu02WZGcTYWqZ4MSEQR_eU/s1600/DSC_0284+(Medium).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOqfCVBze7TfAOIJIGKR2bWwSyd5SXAukdMJmPRc6xzroifzKOHfRvtcciVnxf_8zdG4CScn7QuWfJME9CKRM-GLCbZhZHQgz9rHlhLqazWltjyUqfLwiarfu02WZGcTYWqZ4MSEQR_eU/s1600/DSC_0284+(Medium).JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Arriving at the tarn below Gray Wolf Pass...Anyone up for a swim?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ31Lz18HWRRFwUIIt0PF0Cy0iv3Zx39eDWfwfPevSjcBYgJyLhiQUIA2WsbmJ5dk5UQMw6UKBim0lAynTG1oTwWjepjAJwZKIohMsU7gej1b49acA1MQulwxQ6SJLhPDPhnUCxSs6ee0/s1600/DSC_0195+(Medium).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ31Lz18HWRRFwUIIt0PF0Cy0iv3Zx39eDWfwfPevSjcBYgJyLhiQUIA2WsbmJ5dk5UQMw6UKBim0lAynTG1oTwWjepjAJwZKIohMsU7gej1b49acA1MQulwxQ6SJLhPDPhnUCxSs6ee0/s1600/DSC_0195+(Medium).JPG" height="320" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Butterwort, a carnivorous plant that grows at the edge of the lake. Note the insects (black specks) that have been caught by the leaves.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiQmKSR2t0qZGQ_2s7TH-se9e8EfpEFI7c6S9LiUmDTxnilJnu0PxHPZ8mZs8pZICPM21hm3c0k1cq9jCTG4SUiS-JQrqKKS7084pAZqpJUeRRF5ohq8lyqg_xwBTVuGOEwHk3_CmtxnI/s1600/DSC_0190+(Medium).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiQmKSR2t0qZGQ_2s7TH-se9e8EfpEFI7c6S9LiUmDTxnilJnu0PxHPZ8mZs8pZICPM21hm3c0k1cq9jCTG4SUiS-JQrqKKS7084pAZqpJUeRRF5ohq8lyqg_xwBTVuGOEwHk3_CmtxnI/s1600/DSC_0190+(Medium).JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Making our way around the lake, without a trail.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcDOBA46uy9T4S1JlciifkoyBF7nBqgZwarz6iFJUkDxEhBRh-WuBmN4fM53Wc8PQRd_Z7DfBTffosAY66GXVru-Ab167J1ovPF6mHMcqArN9IQ73olEhdqtWzNrCFSY2z7h9SKXipSnw/s1600/DSC_0191+(Medium).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcDOBA46uy9T4S1JlciifkoyBF7nBqgZwarz6iFJUkDxEhBRh-WuBmN4fM53Wc8PQRd_Z7DfBTffosAY66GXVru-Ab167J1ovPF6mHMcqArN9IQ73olEhdqtWzNrCFSY2z7h9SKXipSnw/s1600/DSC_0191+(Medium).JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The snow cliffs on the far end of the lake.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEZ6TrIchyphenhyphenknvTjLinZAAlF1x2jejCY2bhesC78HOLNMiKccy8bmIdWUgXLHibBBD4PeN9bASa8efIotZA3TbZWI5gZ3LAIyjbH0wLNLMkNEI4R1c_Y6iaDOkNTu0BdYhnFrSVfKnrSBY/s1600/DSC_0192+(Medium).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEZ6TrIchyphenhyphenknvTjLinZAAlF1x2jejCY2bhesC78HOLNMiKccy8bmIdWUgXLHibBBD4PeN9bASa8efIotZA3TbZWI5gZ3LAIyjbH0wLNLMkNEI4R1c_Y6iaDOkNTu0BdYhnFrSVfKnrSBY/s1600/DSC_0192+(Medium).JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Finally breaking out into the open again.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
Today was quite a day, although I think you could say that
about any day in the wilderness. We woke up next to Cedar Lake, which was so
clear you could see straight to the bottom, and cold enough to make you go numb
in a matter of minutes. There is a bald eagle that flies there every day from Puget
Sound to hunt [rainbow trout that were introduced to the lake via air drop years ago]. I envied him because he could fly above the mosquitoes. They were
truly terrible and found every vulnerable spot we had. It was a relief to start
walking and leave most of the mosquitoes behind us.<o:p></o:p></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiemVZPVtS1YpPOHsIKcZLceo9qZBK6MIiUAJOuH99xuy8BPlu5d3mcn4FKSvp6wSWogSewMwE1cKtDORBjdvNW0pn_UCqrHocOF7N3lRcU5h6OVnzZU8Ae-JX19pkOw2gO9u9TFrDYVdk/s1600/IMG_4160.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiemVZPVtS1YpPOHsIKcZLceo9qZBK6MIiUAJOuH99xuy8BPlu5d3mcn4FKSvp6wSWogSewMwE1cKtDORBjdvNW0pn_UCqrHocOF7N3lRcU5h6OVnzZU8Ae-JX19pkOw2gO9u9TFrDYVdk/s1600/IMG_4160.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">The walk around Cedar Lake</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;">We hiked off trail around the lake to our very first snow
field. We learned a little bit about glaciers at the bottom of the snow. There
are several ways to tell if a glacier carved out a valley. First, the valley
will be more u shaped as opposed to v shaped which is caused by rivers.
Secondly, there will be striations on the rocks in the valley. These are caused
by rocks caught up in the glacier scraping against the bedrock on the valley
floor. Another sign of glaciers is moraine, which is a ridge of rocks pushed up
to the side or bottom of the glacier. They are created by the bulldozing and plucking effect
of the mound of moving ice, and deposited where the ice melts. After learning about what glaciers can do we
learned how to climb a snow field [a remnant of a glacier that existed here 200 years ago] correctly. We started by learning how to use
the ice axes that had been strapped to the back of our packs for the past three
days. To self-arrest, or stop yourself from sliding uncontrollably down the
mountain, you have to flip onto your belly and hold your ax underneath you
while digging the pointy end into the snow and covering the sharp end with your
hand. While practicing we also discovered that rain pants are great for
sledding. Once Tim was confident that we could all stop ourselves we got to glissade,
or slide on our butts, down to our packs. This was my favorite part of the day. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"> After donning our packs we climbed up the snow field to the top of the ridge. To climb most effectively we walked in a straight line, with Tim in the lead. </span><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">To walk up a snow field most effectively you have to take tiny steps, so someone as short as me can fit in your footsteps. You also have to do something called kick stepping where you kick your foot into the snow to make a better step and help keep you from falling. As you go up you have to cross your bottom leg over the top so you are not wasting any uphill by stepping back downhill, you know you are doing it right if your steps make a strait line. Your ice ax goes in your uphill hand so that you can self arrest if you need to. After the climb we stopped for lunch while Tim went off to photograph a rare species of flower. </span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPMCAiPww4meIu7NRRBUrHn5pItgjYIjgqlsMv2XECn4ticFvp-cpfMZ5Vep6LSJixrJpEeOCykjggCnZtMMYIV82Lfpy60UWWMvJLZe6srfQHn9yVqvA7RT-xEJZFep3JoIYpXDp06to/s1600/DSC06263.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPMCAiPww4meIu7NRRBUrHn5pItgjYIjgqlsMv2XECn4ticFvp-cpfMZ5Vep6LSJixrJpEeOCykjggCnZtMMYIV82Lfpy60UWWMvJLZe6srfQHn9yVqvA7RT-xEJZFep3JoIYpXDp06to/s1600/DSC06263.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">The view from lunch, we climbed that snow field!</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;">Once he got back we headed down to a lake. It does not have
a name, so we decide to call it Frog Lake after the cascades frog that Carter
caught. We took a group swim, glad that the water was warmer than Cedar Lake,
even though you could see snow next to the water. Once we were all clean we laid
on some rocks to dry off. They were not quite big enough to be comfortable, but
they were pleasantly warm from sitting in the sun.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp-pepgRK31nCGglIGo1UUoRljpm7JEUTfC8k43EbPEwTv_eG4UlHVTvG5BxxXUlFYRi0lNt1BeqeJQ0T17yJUZvECwNgSNEPU3VfqtRJHeaJ-BKuFfILPna3q9dh4wI0mNtrLEhwTd4E/s1600/DSC06280.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp-pepgRK31nCGglIGo1UUoRljpm7JEUTfC8k43EbPEwTv_eG4UlHVTvG5BxxXUlFYRi0lNt1BeqeJQ0T17yJUZvECwNgSNEPU3VfqtRJHeaJ-BKuFfILPna3q9dh4wI0mNtrLEhwTd4E/s1600/DSC06280.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Our little frog friend, he was very eager to get away from us</span><span style="font-size: small;">.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">Our sun basking was followed by a discussion on mountain
goats. The goats were introduced into the park for hunting and have greatly
expanded and started killing endemic alpine flowers. The goat population
reached up to 900 in its height and is now around 200 or 300. We came to the consensus
that a brief hunting period should be allowed in which only goats could be
killed to control the population in a cost effective and hopefully humane way.
With thoughts of goats in our heads we headed off to make some pasta for
dinner. Once our bellies were full we decided to make the push to the top of
grey wolf pass. So we would have time to look at alpine flowers the next day.</span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIIZZ7DdOcD9T0Oa_c_SLTWxXD19QWj2bFnNabFpWjy2N2A_k_5m-mUqROoZVxwE77SWHFEKR7XV1vFFS6IqBQrfVX2mxCe9IkPomFMsVnsVw_waWnqxGpL29Lggv1SfrxuRCb1H6YRAE/s1600/DSC06286.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIIZZ7DdOcD9T0Oa_c_SLTWxXD19QWj2bFnNabFpWjy2N2A_k_5m-mUqROoZVxwE77SWHFEKR7XV1vFFS6IqBQrfVX2mxCe9IkPomFMsVnsVw_waWnqxGpL29Lggv1SfrxuRCb1H6YRAE/s1600/DSC06286.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;">We made it just in time to see the sunset. Wow. We were surrounded
by nothing but mountains, the peaks stretching out as far as you could see. As
the sun went down the sky erupted with color, framing the peaks in gold’s,
yellows, reds, and greens. It was my other favorite part of the day. The
beautiful sunset was followed by a night spent under the stars.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMya9ZxqJC0AeejN-4ccCHZpWDlX7gR8u_VSLghEDosrRFA4_x_u0uq7uQ9ZuRbuzzslykHR9Egt03I_IazOWRB6BMV13jCpV-ZfHqok_m8WO0w42zp2cN6ZaADx5bmfuM8hZmFVN3WGo/s1600/009.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMya9ZxqJC0AeejN-4ccCHZpWDlX7gR8u_VSLghEDosrRFA4_x_u0uq7uQ9ZuRbuzzslykHR9Egt03I_IazOWRB6BMV13jCpV-ZfHqok_m8WO0w42zp2cN6ZaADx5bmfuM8hZmFVN3WGo/s1600/009.jpg" height="121" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">You can get an idea of the sunset from this photo, but you
have to imagine it 10 times brighter and bigger</span><span style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHiOeBIIqCgRbWIke_PYxz4NTGf4feOpRuIIFUjYg1nhEOc6V5JBVazhe3ezsXU8iN5whk5hqAfu-3UEW3xa784SAfiCDcQfta5k3JT9YNt4usePi4hgv9ZvDSv2SMT2LGqODtdmzxcuI/s1600/DSC_0326.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHiOeBIIqCgRbWIke_PYxz4NTGf4feOpRuIIFUjYg1nhEOc6V5JBVazhe3ezsXU8iN5whk5hqAfu-3UEW3xa784SAfiCDcQfta5k3JT9YNt4usePi4hgv9ZvDSv2SMT2LGqODtdmzxcuI/s1600/DSC_0326.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">Yoko and I slept next to each other, I was glad of her company
because I was very scared that I would roll off the ridge. (Spoiler I didn't).
It was cold with a breeze which caused me to hide inside my sleeping bag for
most of the night, but when I dared to peak out I was able to see the most
amazing stars. Since there is less light pollution you can see way more stars
when you are out in the wilderness. It’s worth the price of your face getting a
little cold being outside your sleeping bag, and I always find myself nostalgic
for the mass of stars you can see in the mountains when I look up at night in
the city.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Here we are sleeping on the ridge. My sleeping bag is the
green one, it turns out I wasn't even close to rolling off. </span><span style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Form a non-linear perspective I
think day 4 was the day I started to get use to the wilderness. It was an
amazing feeling knowing that we were around 15 miles from any type of help. I
felt partially terrified by this idea and partly thrilled. I was terrified
because I knew that if something happened it would be hard to get help, if I
had fallen off that ridge (even though it would have taken a lot of rolling and
was extremely unlikely) it would not be an easy trip to the hospital to get
help. On the other hand it was exhilarating knowing that I was off grid and
experiencing life in a different way. It was nice not knowing what was going on
outside of my little world. I know that I forget to just be with myself a lot
when I am home. Even now as I write this I am surrounded by things. The couch I
am sitting on it soft and comfortable, my music is playing in the background,
and I am drinking a cup of coffee that I did not make myself. All these little
things get taken for granted and distract me from the idea that there is more to
the world than my comfortable life. Being in the wilderness reminds me that
there is so much more to the world. I find it amazing that flower can survive
clinging to the side of a rock, while I don’t even make my own coffee. Then I
think about the fact that humans use to live like that, without computers or grocery
stores and I wonder how I would have done if I had lived off the land. I like
thinking about these concepts because it reminds me how far humans have come
and how far we have to go. There is something relaxing in knowing that there is
more out there. In the grand scheme of things it doesn’t matter that I did not
get an A in o-chem or that I forgot to respond to a text message. Wilderness
reminds me of this and that I am part of more than just a school, or a city, or
a country, and that my choices affect me, not the whole world. </span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<o:p></o:p>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07528135481441371839noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5114351705298393707.post-24029121054744332272014-07-16T14:43:00.000-07:002014-09-20T16:02:57.907-07:00Day 5 (July 16, 2014)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Day 5 - As told by Tess Amen<br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit; text-indent: 0.5in;">It’s been exactly a week since we
arrived back home in Seattle, and it has definitely been a retrospective week
for me. As I’ve transitioned back into “city life,” I’ve already felt caught up
again in so much unnecessary hustle and bustle. Gone are the days of simplicity
in the back country: waking up to the calm sounds of nature and the light
filtered through our tent, cooking breakfast over a single propane burner, and
packing up for another day of trekking around in an undisturbed sanctuary; free
of other people and stress.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrsMZ7ra-QQM6rVBiDis5MxGM4mntz1I8oNjc-OTEaOrgeYGnAFKMeO9DHN5VUMVyYxGzWvJ7dfAYT_2u_pdvTgFuA3I_tPtmXZaxupdBLMOOzEWHK7siuUrcGZodG4HQTUg9VbksVtn4/s1600/DSC_0313.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrsMZ7ra-QQM6rVBiDis5MxGM4mntz1I8oNjc-OTEaOrgeYGnAFKMeO9DHN5VUMVyYxGzWvJ7dfAYT_2u_pdvTgFuA3I_tPtmXZaxupdBLMOOzEWHK7siuUrcGZodG4HQTUg9VbksVtn4/s1600/DSC_0313.JPG" height="265" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Group photo on Gray Wolf Pass, Tim Billo</td></tr>
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I will be recounting Day 5 of our journey into Olympic National Park. I have never experienced a morning as I did on this day. As I slowly opened my eyes, I was nearly blinded by the sun eagerly greeting me through the small face hole of my sleeping bag. We awoke on Gray Wolf Pass – having slept without tents, under the stars, after witnessing the most incredible sunset I had ever seen.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5nYKtQ0fARd1i37f-bO1SI7HlG5H9GhnrUIjxSbSOcVomqVmzM8Ktvao8kTGY9iNBontmYNqcudviOxFsuXysQTUnBRWycRyUxqvC66-2JOiv5quD5tCpnYddGFTYKxGCKabJBslHpCI/s1600/001+(1).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5nYKtQ0fARd1i37f-bO1SI7HlG5H9GhnrUIjxSbSOcVomqVmzM8Ktvao8kTGY9iNBontmYNqcudviOxFsuXysQTUnBRWycRyUxqvC66-2JOiv5quD5tCpnYddGFTYKxGCKabJBslHpCI/s1600/001+(1).jpg" height="227" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">No tent, no problem! Matthew Skirvin</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyOH2cnxlkA8L1UrP6OCGVrJFo58szAWETy_WOrQGUVVkrBy5iSMe9q_Rtykh7_DhTZUgXCSfPIbpx3gWibCm8ILG-ct4-GT50o_FMCgHxxq_lHw6ADPB-TENWVzSxGddfnuW9ebrbPaU/s1600/DSC_0342.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyOH2cnxlkA8L1UrP6OCGVrJFo58szAWETy_WOrQGUVVkrBy5iSMe9q_Rtykh7_DhTZUgXCSfPIbpx3gWibCm8ILG-ct4-GT50o_FMCgHxxq_lHw6ADPB-TENWVzSxGddfnuW9ebrbPaU/s1600/DSC_0342.JPG" height="266" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;">Waking up on Gray Wolf Pass, Tim Billo</span></td></tr>
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<span style="text-align: center; text-indent: 48px;">Before we headed down the pass (to make our way to our next campsite at Dose Meadows) Tim led us</span><br />
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVveNdeSfKnTyzks79DIv0qCvyC2M3yqN0nUyldqEDZzOq_lExoMRBgQnC5RG6m4C4xQ5Ko69n1zssx-FnI315sHbYJ4j2DbweqH16-IAUm5lsdB3JXC_Umsjvx5rCMQH9TIok4vG-sFc/s1600/DSC_0364.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVveNdeSfKnTyzks79DIv0qCvyC2M3yqN0nUyldqEDZzOq_lExoMRBgQnC5RG6m4C4xQ5Ko69n1zssx-FnI315sHbYJ4j2DbweqH16-IAUm5lsdB3JXC_Umsjvx5rCMQH9TIok4vG-sFc/s1600/DSC_0364.JPG" height="200" width="132" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Silky phacelia,Tim Billo</span></span></td></tr>
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<span style="text-align: center; text-indent: 48px;"></span><span style="text-align: center; text-indent: 48px;">through a plant lesson. We identified golden rod, yarrow, alpine buckwheat, cut-leaf daisy, silky phacelia, spotted saxifrage, Davidson’s penstemon, juniper, and sub alpine fir. While we were observing the flora,</span><span style="text-align: center; text-indent: 48px;"> we noted the adaptations that these plants have developed in order to thrive in the subalpine and alpine ecosystems. We saw that most of the plants were growing low to the ground in “cushion” like formations, often clumped together which is explained by the facilitation and </span><span style="text-align: center; text-indent: 48px;">succession model of plant growth (when one plant puts down roots others will follow). Tim also explained that many of the plants were perennials with big roots beneath the surface to cope with environmental pressure. The moisture stress of living on the mountains, along with extreme weather variation (anywhere from extremely cold temperatures accompanied by snow and wind, to hot and dry days) has forced the plants to develop adaptive structures to survive in this unforgiving landscape.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;">Spotted saxifrage, Tim Billo</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUBzIcE9A6iNsfrDLjvwMzRWLCandZpg3LjNVgPePE6rnxHAxVQET-gvTd9QxT8GXQVvALHPqnv34Akb3auGtNomwugZvbI88ujJ3rHenKOXinQw8Fvb9HCulyBYbyV3ANtuaVAIuzUY0/s1600/backpack.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUBzIcE9A6iNsfrDLjvwMzRWLCandZpg3LjNVgPePE6rnxHAxVQET-gvTd9QxT8GXQVvALHPqnv34Akb3auGtNomwugZvbI88ujJ3rHenKOXinQw8Fvb9HCulyBYbyV3ANtuaVAIuzUY0/s1600/backpack.jpg" height="356" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;">Sketch of Miranda looking out at the gorgeous view<span style="font-family: inherit;"> <span style="font-family: inherit;">of the U-shaped upper Dosewallips Valley, where we would head later that day--</span></span>Tess Amen</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Descending from the ridge, after our botany lesson. It was interesting to note the differences in topography from one side of the ridge to the other too. The windward slopes, where we would head later that day, are dry and meadow covered. The leeward slopes, where snow is deposited in the winter, and where we came from the day before, are steep and still snow covered. Over the years, snow and glaciers have steepened leeward slopes. Looking down from a highpoint in the ridge, we were also treated to views of the vast "sea" of forest in the lower Dosewallips, imagining what most of the Puget Trough would have looked like a little over a 100 years ago. We also spied one dying white-bark pine--this somewhat rare species has a disease, likely causing it to become rarer, and one Clark's nutcracker, a rare bird in the Olympics that depends on pine nuts.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; text-indent: 0.5in;">After the plant lesson we were on
our way. We made a three mile hike from Gray Wolf Pass to the Dosewallips
River Valley and it was definitely not an easy one. We battled the heat,
strain on knees due to the downhill elevation loss, and there was little in the
way of water. After stopping for lunch and a water refill we embarked on the second
half of our trek in order to get to camp</span><span style="font-family: inherit; text-indent: 0.5in;">.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">On our way to Dose Meadows, Tim Billo</span></span></td></tr>
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<span style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0.5in;">Once we arrived to our Dose Meadows campsite we were not disappointed. The meadow was absolutely beautiful, it was green and open with firs and flowers scattered on the hillside. Before Miranda and I hopped in our tent for well-deserved a nap, we spotted two marmots engaged in a scuffle on a large rock not more than one hundred feet in front of us. Even though this was probably a territorial battle, we jokingly referred to it as “aggressive hugging” for the rest of the trip.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Marmot "hugs," Anthony Dang</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jake journalling at Dose Meadows, Anthony Dang<span style="font-family: inherit; text-indent: 0.5in;"><br /></span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Anthony journalling at Dose Meadows, Tim Billo</td></tr>
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<span style="text-align: center;">Once we had all carb’d up at dinner it was time for our nightly discussion – and this time we had guests! We had met Bob and his four grandsons at our campsite and invited them to our talk, which happened to be led by Yoko that night. Yoko had chosen to discuss and question us about our thoughts regarding sustainable, modern living close to nature. I thought it was was really enlightening to have Bob's contributions to the discussion, since he has been backpacking in the park since 1953. Bob told us that he does not think that the park has changed all that much since he began visiting, but he was glad that there are people like us and his grandsons that value these wild experiences - after all he said, we'll be the ones fighting to protect it in the future!</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sketch of the stag, Tess Amen</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit; text-indent: 0.5in;">As Yoko was leading us through her
discussion, a black-tail deer stag decided to start browsing right beside us.
He still had velvet on his antlers and was not at all perturbed by our
presence. In fact, he probably was attracted to our sweaty socks hanging on the
trees! </span><span style="font-family: inherit; text-indent: 0.5in;">But back to the academics – Yoko’s questions about the
suburbs and how close people “need” to be to nature turned into a really interactive discussion. When Bob’s grandson Matthew chimed in, I saw a proud smile emerge on Bob's face - he looked so happy to see his grandson articulating his thoughts on nature, it struck me as a really special moment. </span></span><span style="font-family: inherit; text-indent: 0.5in;">And Lucky for us, before our conversation wrapped up, we spotted a
black bear uphill in the meadow! One of my
favorite memories of the trip has to be seeing that bear with a flower
dangling from its mouth. It reminded me of how innocent animals and nature are.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMRWEOaspH9O9fDKtdapyA8-naZon2QbNvlV2HOupFXi8TjXAe29KkwwxdAUVQmvXYwV6pW_j-M6m1bCLhRAnGKznp5yCFMSVsb2yrpTzKr6ITzLGfdbPT6V5QcXlh6fhCcwymGukeOyc/s1600/DSC_0440.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMRWEOaspH9O9fDKtdapyA8-naZon2QbNvlV2HOupFXi8TjXAe29KkwwxdAUVQmvXYwV6pW_j-M6m1bCLhRAnGKznp5yCFMSVsb2yrpTzKr6ITzLGfdbPT6V5QcXlh6fhCcwymGukeOyc/s1600/DSC_0440.JPG" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yes he did get that close! We were sitting bear cans right in front of him, Tim Billo</td></tr>
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<span style="text-align: center;">After the discussion we were eager as always for some rest. But before bed Merrick, Carter, Anthony, Miranda, and I squeezed in a card game and some freeze dried ice cream – it was the perfect end to another exciting day of backpacking.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Always journalling, Tim Billo</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">When I think back to my time in
Olympic National Park with this truly incredible group of people, so many
memories come flooding back to me. It seems like we were there in another
lifetime; and being back in the city feels like more than just a few hours away
from our wilderness experience. The nine days we spent together were undoubtedly
the some of the most challenging of my life, but they came with great reward. In
closing, I’ll leave you with my reflection about our wilderness experience and
what wilderness means to me from Day 8:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">“Sitting
here, overlooking the valley (Moose Lake being barely beyond my visibility) I’m
feeling a true sense of calm. Everyday I’ve considered our reading about how
true reality is the feeling and experiences that wilderness provides; as
opposed to the created “reality” at home. This idea resonates with me every
time I bask in a breeze that cools us while hiking in the heat, whenever I kick
up snow up on the back of my calves, or the feeling of laying down on a hot
rock – the sun’s energy warming my bones. These little pleasures are reality,
they remind you that you can still be in touch with primal pleasures even in
our very much civilized, industrialized, and complicated way of life. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I know
I won’t be this deep in wilderness for a long time, but I hope these
revelations will stick with me when I go home. Out here you don’t sweat the
small stuff, you embrace challenges and even seek them out, you are silly and
laugh at stupid things, you feel connected to your companions and especially
connected to this earth.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">There’s
no way to duplicate what I’ve learned out here anywhere else, and I know that I’ll
always look back on this adventure fondly – recalling how I teetered on the
side of a moraine, got tears in my eyes thinking of how much I missed my
family, listened to the alert chirps of marmots and playfully whistled back, or
how I could turn three hundred and sixty degrees and see nothing but
breathtaking, unaltered earth – simply existing, simply dying, and simply
offering itself to us.</span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I’ve never felt such a supreme gratefulness towards
the land before, and I hope to always be filled with wonder when I look out at
something as infinitely unknown and undisturbed as this. Thank you Olympic
National Park, thank you Tim Billow, thank you to my classmates and now close
friends, and thank you Mother Nature for giving me this once in a lifetime
experience to live life simply and fully.”</span></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Upon completing our 9 day journey together! Love you guys, Tim Billo</td></tr>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07528135481441371839noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5114351705298393707.post-91726199061969748512014-07-15T16:51:00.000-07:002014-09-20T16:24:43.880-07:00Day 6 (July 17, 2014)<div align="left" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
As told my Miranda Knight-Miles</div>
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It's been barely over a week since we have returned from Olympic National Park, and it has been unbelievably harder to readjust to the "real world" in Seattle than I thought it would. I recommend nature walks on the regular to help people readjust. </div>
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Here's to <b>Day 6</b>, where this fantastic group of individuals walked nearly 7 miles and 3000 feet in elevation changes. *I started the day out with an asthma attack roughly 5 minutes from the head of the trail, but after pushing through that, the day was a challenging but rewarding day. </div>
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We started at Dose Meadows, a massive field of flourishing flora at 4500ft. Dose Meadows is where the mass of our wildlife viewing was. We encountered a doe, a buck, a bear, and even witnessed marmots wrestling! We then continued to Lost Pass at 5550 ft. See pictures below- this area recently has the rest of the snow melt, resulting in a mass blooming of the Avalanche Lilies featured below.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">After fertilization, the petals shrivel and turn from white to pink!</td></tr>
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I took a few minutes upon our arrival to draw a picture of the scenery! Featured: ---></div>
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<span style="color: black;">After Lost Pass, we went over Cameron Pass, hiking up to 6500 feet. We all took a lunch break with a great view. We also played a game of ninja, which I highly suggest simply because it is fun!</span></div>
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Cameron Pass ~~v<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_tLrAujwQW2zapwiuy6DCNeBBX5Gj4eIl2G-3GSjgX5PYV-R8hN8Ivk0S_G9lmY8znV9zoFbtEIJcpXwLbQ3NNmTpET86iPxVZ9NPyVk94m5axi3DM0ERKgKv3XnpS4CuJlmlUpIiMEA/s1600/P1010322.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_tLrAujwQW2zapwiuy6DCNeBBX5Gj4eIl2G-3GSjgX5PYV-R8hN8Ivk0S_G9lmY8znV9zoFbtEIJcpXwLbQ3NNmTpET86iPxVZ9NPyVk94m5axi3DM0ERKgKv3XnpS4CuJlmlUpIiMEA/s1600/P1010322.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_tLrAujwQW2zapwiuy6DCNeBBX5Gj4eIl2G-3GSjgX5PYV-R8hN8Ivk0S_G9lmY8znV9zoFbtEIJcpXwLbQ3NNmTpET86iPxVZ9NPyVk94m5axi3DM0ERKgKv3XnpS4CuJlmlUpIiMEA/s1600/P1010322.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
<b>Mt. McCartney Puddle</b>. On the way we came across a patch of snow that had fresh bear tracks- the bear was using the snow to roll around in and cool down! We then later saw the bear- Tim identified the wet butt to confirm. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Climbing towards the pass, which is way up to the right in the rock fields. Mt. Rainier became visible behind us, and Mt. Olympus became visible in front of us as we climbed back into the alpine zone.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mt. Olympus and its massive glaciers shimmering in the distance.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4Wh5UBTj6bCHQhT47eBOOufgDAtKZeLJo3DvevgwAoxVju8QH0N9D4Tp0k_KB8S9y6EKG7cud7PJjJvXcVQnK0_mCrcDGwdWtoDs9TcZib7N92XPfyMSbYj8i8KgfrFRl-8g9q2u8SQU/s1600/DSC_0510+(Medium).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4Wh5UBTj6bCHQhT47eBOOufgDAtKZeLJo3DvevgwAoxVju8QH0N9D4Tp0k_KB8S9y6EKG7cud7PJjJvXcVQnK0_mCrcDGwdWtoDs9TcZib7N92XPfyMSbYj8i8KgfrFRl-8g9q2u8SQU/s1600/DSC_0510+(Medium).JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Approaching the pass through a rock garden of alpine flowers clinging low to the hillside in mixed species clumps where species seem to facilitate each others' growth. At this elevation plants invest more energy in roots, and less in the above ground biomass, not to mention that plant too tall would quickly become vulnerable to the destructive and dessicating effects of the wind. The leeward side of the pass is steep and contains massive snowfields, remnants of a glacier that filled the basin in the last 200 years. The lower Cameron valley also contains a remnant population of Engelmann spruce that rode out the last ice age in a refugium there.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmQQZg_FMLXBXbw1DrjGvmRuXSyMsdkUuOAl9nrCLexHzIJLvZqoWgtwmo0v6Upa3cbpj9BTlW-jqqADGFm0fZB_supb-OQJDxM3pb2NuGNxmUW2gFXZ63hQMPyaNC1QTGh3gD3CAGqqo/s1600/DSC_0528+(Medium).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmQQZg_FMLXBXbw1DrjGvmRuXSyMsdkUuOAl9nrCLexHzIJLvZqoWgtwmo0v6Upa3cbpj9BTlW-jqqADGFm0fZB_supb-OQJDxM3pb2NuGNxmUW2gFXZ63hQMPyaNC1QTGh3gD3CAGqqo/s1600/DSC_0528+(Medium).JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The group at the pass, amongst rock and alpine flowers.</td></tr>
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After Cameron Pass, we began an off trail traverse for 3 miles towards a little dot of water below Mt. McCartney that we tagged with the name <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_6WK3261atoMwZ3w8jQYGoCAIPTGlGrruVveopZBCT5-_BA0Om3ltVmk7e5sCxN4052cgeD4CXRtJfWcJLth8KO0abpSoEg2WN1rPKBewxofo5fooSX4VD7deAp2_R_7cvP2KdjfvbVo/s1600/P1010337.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_6WK3261atoMwZ3w8jQYGoCAIPTGlGrruVveopZBCT5-_BA0Om3ltVmk7e5sCxN4052cgeD4CXRtJfWcJLth8KO0abpSoEg2WN1rPKBewxofo5fooSX4VD7deAp2_R_7cvP2KdjfvbVo/s1600/P1010337.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sunset from the "McCartney puddle".</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoDUxH0h3Ibze_iGqMNTGZm5Sh2YfjmuFlD9YuYBohyNz0MfJnX-s6R1Mj_X-gumjLwNxRstuVJtJuuhCbnk9LTHzBLIqLtIhvb7iV7YIbOteZQuaDM-hIoVa-Xha9EdnFvjuZj6lJFJc/s1600/DSC_0579+(Medium).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoDUxH0h3Ibze_iGqMNTGZm5Sh2YfjmuFlD9YuYBohyNz0MfJnX-s6R1Mj_X-gumjLwNxRstuVJtJuuhCbnk9LTHzBLIqLtIhvb7iV7YIbOteZQuaDM-hIoVa-Xha9EdnFvjuZj6lJFJc/s1600/DSC_0579+(Medium).JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A rare yellow <i>Orobanche</i>, a cholorphyll-less root parasite.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmLxDn876Ks5EUd4APbAPeZ9I5UEHVvR9w5NdKuklJwVU4ZUP28DIH0M2-uGoNuReCZ5O40KYVpot7_cItsObvk394Xyu0OTay7JIpq0uKg3GSJ8sZUgxRg9iDzNAOeaoCx20-1_zzxX0/s1600/DSC_0543+(Medium).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmLxDn876Ks5EUd4APbAPeZ9I5UEHVvR9w5NdKuklJwVU4ZUP28DIH0M2-uGoNuReCZ5O40KYVpot7_cItsObvk394Xyu0OTay7JIpq0uKg3GSJ8sZUgxRg9iDzNAOeaoCx20-1_zzxX0/s1600/DSC_0543+(Medium).JPG" height="320" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Very fresh bear tracks. Note the disturbed snow in the background. This bear was rolling in the snow to cool off and escape the bugs, before we likely scared it. It sprinted off towards the direction of the viewer in this photo. We would see this very bear a few minutes later, wet fur and all.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Setting out across trail-less terrain from Cameron Pass.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDizjiDLg1I0TVxbfDCmjsodZATDrtGJ1x6laPca0m7WGlkhm4HcZK6SSbIWjhpiMCPNFxq4GxzgPSVggesV38J_rofsPMVcAry_2JPUk8gPgUbaQ9FXChGXqgSxP0DKGl48pqc4Znqf4/s1600/DSC_0534+(Medium).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDizjiDLg1I0TVxbfDCmjsodZATDrtGJ1x6laPca0m7WGlkhm4HcZK6SSbIWjhpiMCPNFxq4GxzgPSVggesV38J_rofsPMVcAry_2JPUk8gPgUbaQ9FXChGXqgSxP0DKGl48pqc4Znqf4/s1600/DSC_0534+(Medium).JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Off-trail from Cameron Pass. A massive avalanche which destroyed the Grand Pass trail led us to choose a more creative route to the Grand Valley via the Lillian Valley.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiatg-okmE24rQWhV0aZM2shvUOE46NkuBj5il4MAU0HJf1WcqJNwBy3J2gIewJJAcRCPnnXdZswLeEsBks329UMnEgGZ28MDKiiyCUd2zyTC4jMdw31EQYzSVE1vrc37uWcp15dsHtqo/s1600/DSC_0538+(Medium).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiatg-okmE24rQWhV0aZM2shvUOE46NkuBj5il4MAU0HJf1WcqJNwBy3J2gIewJJAcRCPnnXdZswLeEsBks329UMnEgGZ28MDKiiyCUd2zyTC4jMdw31EQYzSVE1vrc37uWcp15dsHtqo/s1600/DSC_0538+(Medium).JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Traversing the meadows from Cameron Pass.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCIjV2T-js1mpA99uebMzI6zvSd1unnl6iZhRgr1Duo16CvxuLC8uUQkdQmBSs6yLScuj7QY7IR2VxI74owspi7b0ZRxonsn7fsds6fBUOycHe-8NPO3AFInAEkdyRO-dNIKTjm4J1-lY/s1600/DSC_0540+(Medium).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCIjV2T-js1mpA99uebMzI6zvSd1unnl6iZhRgr1Duo16CvxuLC8uUQkdQmBSs6yLScuj7QY7IR2VxI74owspi7b0ZRxonsn7fsds6fBUOycHe-8NPO3AFInAEkdyRO-dNIKTjm4J1-lY/s1600/DSC_0540+(Medium).JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Striking out across meadows, the land of marmots and bears, with Mt. Olympus in the background.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs0rZuZJOVIoMl3k3wVqz6jLW3KztYgXwPrKfuiumYjPK8jXP5DCx_4oh0x-nl0gXSqxCNeoNeMbcU2hu7wugEYyG5QbcMvYYB5IzE7giu3fEWeAe1xO40xBWi6zPSVHE_5N013gdMivY/s1600/DSC_0553+(Medium).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs0rZuZJOVIoMl3k3wVqz6jLW3KztYgXwPrKfuiumYjPK8jXP5DCx_4oh0x-nl0gXSqxCNeoNeMbcU2hu7wugEYyG5QbcMvYYB5IzE7giu3fEWeAe1xO40xBWi6zPSVHE_5N013gdMivY/s1600/DSC_0553+(Medium).JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Walking along the top of a hardened snow drift from last winter.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A strange snow formation along our off trail traverse. note the darker snow below--that is last year's snow that never melted last year. This past winter's snow is on top (and is cleaner).</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy1MSIjTcKOO3Ab3EQr4_svabLb9NEhVGXueCG1mGmWEuG6Qp-3aqHbrxkMZW6BCO2RzZtzQogzaBTsQktSu_mL5WWC-yXoGO7I2u9N0XJX3sYVhXikYy9fOcVLdHw8BHSWYnN7uTfDs8/s1600/DSC_0558+(Medium).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy1MSIjTcKOO3Ab3EQr4_svabLb9NEhVGXueCG1mGmWEuG6Qp-3aqHbrxkMZW6BCO2RzZtzQogzaBTsQktSu_mL5WWC-yXoGO7I2u9N0XJX3sYVhXikYy9fOcVLdHw8BHSWYnN7uTfDs8/s1600/DSC_0558+(Medium).JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Miranda pausing on some newly formed "patterned ground" or "rock stripes" formed by the freeze-thaw cycle in the gravel in this cold (and recently snow covered) area.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjui9HoLJre_5VRrdo1DV0XSVenoUeA06lhbcTp7L-CVbkXxuQ4ahvMXz5oGOkrTuxt339viGKgxGPCSMPpXVqyApiuFKIBo3jaq8QKXMR0rSyAplqDGA2KwRFse-mFf9oELX2vYB7c6MM/s1600/DSC_0569+(Medium).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjui9HoLJre_5VRrdo1DV0XSVenoUeA06lhbcTp7L-CVbkXxuQ4ahvMXz5oGOkrTuxt339viGKgxGPCSMPpXVqyApiuFKIBo3jaq8QKXMR0rSyAplqDGA2KwRFse-mFf9oELX2vYB7c6MM/s1600/DSC_0569+(Medium).JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Reflections on the "McCartney puddle", where we stopped for the night after an arduous afternoon of forging a path across steep meadows and rock fields.</td></tr>
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We spent the night recollecting ourselves, we had no discussion as it was nearly 9 by the time we settled into camp and finished dinner. We simply discussed how we were doing and the daunting tasks for the next day, and spent some time stargazing and sharing stories. </div>
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Tim also informed us that we were <b>off itinerary, off trail [due to the unexpected winter avalanche destruction of the Grand Pass Trail], and 18 miles from civilization. </b></div>
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<b>Let that sink in.</b></div>
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Tim also asked each of us students to think about what exactly what experience nature and wild landscapes means to us. To that, here is my response. </div>
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Nature, to me, is what surrounds us and is our own perception of these surroundings. It is one thing to see nature, but seeing nature is not nature in full. True nature, as well as wild or wilderness, <i>must be felt.</i> True nature can be determined by the emotions that follow the view, for you cannot feel the sadness of the city whilst looking over mountain ridges into valleys containing meadows, forests, and a plethora of flourishing flora and fauna. Nature, in itself, is where man goes to feel like Self, be it in the forest, over the sea, or amongst the snowy mountain tops. Even in the city, a wildness can be found, but nature and wilderness are harder to see through the smog and noise pollution of the city. Wildness is everywhere we look and <i>wish to see it</i>; the planted tree outside our window, the determined plants that peak their head and bodies through cracked cement and roadways, and the city animals who live off of street food. These are all wild, but unless seen as such, they disappear into the rest of the city and the surrounding bleakness that can follow unless perceived through a light in the mind's eye. While it can be easy to pick out wildness, it does not give the full appreciation for nature. Nature entails an experience in which <b>sight </b>and <b>raw emotion</b> flow into the mind, and these feelings overcome any city-sorrow or questioning of self. In nature, one does not worry about the external self, but instead allows the inner self to be, and in being, one knows that the internal flame is a connective energy to the nature that surrounds you. </div>
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UPDATE</div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">It’s been a month since I’ve left the mountains and valleys
of Olympic National Park, and still not one day has passed that I do not reminisce
of the peaks reaching for the heavens, of the depths of color splattered along
the hillside, or of the piercing glow that came from the abundance of stars
lurking outside our solar system. My life has been rather hectic, and in the
midst of the chaos I have discovered the true reason for my sadness of leaving
a place I call home; I realize that I deeply miss the breathtaking views or the
enticing colors or crisp, fresh air, but what I truly miss most is the
wilderness. As described in my earlier post, nature can be found anyone one
looks for it- and boy have I been looking for it! Thankfully, I came back to a
flourishing garden and a city with an abundance of green space, but I noticed
that even as I sit in a garden or a park to get my fix of nature, I still have
a deep longing for that particular bit of land known as Olympic National Park.
I believe it is the isolation I miss the most, the idea of getting to be truly alone
in the vastness of non-human life is so enticing to me now, I have felt nothing
so empowering over my emotions. I find myself staring into pictures of forests
for minutes, getting myself lost behind layers of trees, dreamily imagining
myself hidden in the chaotic calm of wilderness at work. Others cannot
understand the feelings that wash over me as I reminisce inside my mind over
the vastness and loving solitude that followed me into the park. I understand
now why so many argue over definitions behind nature, wilderness and wildness;
it all lies in the emotions the individual holds behind those words, in the
experiences they have had with each on its own. Nature, to me, is something
that can be found anywhere, it is simply life and its beauty and energy, but
wilderness entails a sense of isolation, a welcoming lack of your species and instead
a profusion of biodiversity and properly function ecological systems. Wilderness
describes the areas that man does not feel in charge, a place where they
instead feel at one, or possible scared, of the surrounding land. It is a place
where vulnerability is more common than the ability to dominate, a place that
reminds man of a past that was not filled with constant comforts or grossly
easy accessibility, but instead of a time when effort was to be exerted to receive
the benefits. Maybe only some people care about wilderness because of this
reason, because of the appreciation for work with an environmentally beneficial
outcome. There is a possibility that those who do not like the wilderness also
enjoy and become rather engrossed in the accessibility of modern life, we have
all encountered those who only eat ready meals- the ones that require minimal preparation
and time and usually consist of food-products instead of food from the source. If that is what separates me from the rest of the population- this inner need and longing for wilderness- then I'm okay having it always linger in the back of my mind, because it makes me feel all that closer to the world around me, and always keeps my mind thinking about any environmental impacts I can have. I miss the wilderness woven into nature, and now I feel adamant about encouraging its conservation.</span></div>
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-Miranda Knight-Miles</div>
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Day 7</div>
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As told by Yoko Chaumont<o:p></o:p></div>
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We woke up around 7:30am to another beautiful day in the
park. There’s something refreshing about waking up and seeing the sky and
surrounding trees instead of the inside of your tent. After rolling up our
sleeping bags, Tim, Matthew, Serena, and I ate the rest of our granola for
breakfast. We took our time eating and chatted in our cook groups during
breakfast. I was grateful for a relaxed morning, after the tough day of hiking
we had yesterday. Our leave time was supposed to be 10am, but it ended up being
10:45am. Before we left, we had a stretching session, where we went around in a
circle and each person led a stretch of his or her choice. All the stretches
felt amazing on our sore muscles.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCY4tpT6XXwWoqIHD_1MmzmcXIXtfkCD8bOycPBJXCXSaNfen-fMqDeJzve0wmw3lkbDsjwb70cVAfu4ornaFwgGlcvm-AoXMx8-aT17rGxiTyYaaaY__6Xb77jIIhqs0_w015pOS-Hhg/s1600/105_0763.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCY4tpT6XXwWoqIHD_1MmzmcXIXtfkCD8bOycPBJXCXSaNfen-fMqDeJzve0wmw3lkbDsjwb70cVAfu4ornaFwgGlcvm-AoXMx8-aT17rGxiTyYaaaY__6Xb77jIIhqs0_w015pOS-Hhg/s1600/105_0763.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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The last shot of our camp as we
left Cameron Pass. (Photo credit: Yoko Chaumont)<o:p></o:p></div>
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Then we were off! We headed up a steep section and hiked for
at least an hour. It was pretty difficult. When we neared the top of Mt.
McCartney, we dropped off our packs, had a quick snack break, and then headed
off without packs to climb about 15 minutes more to the peak. It was a very
rocky and steep climb to the peak, so Merrick’s achilles tendon was bothering
him a little too much. Although he made it most of the way to the top, he did
not get to the peak. When the rest of us arrived at the peak, we found that
there was not a lot of space. But we all fit, took pictures, and admired the
gorgeous view from an elevation of almost 6800 ft.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPGZrrIqwBk0qhD9v1-RojG9s87JI2KbYCCdwpqACSI1IHC4eG2RQrvo2d0yQ4TKdJTFDLj8n1luzR0qWSzrbqJVDF2Ehl8ipU5svHwbGqFsUNZCdi_8A_Cfn9yII53qvasgy-76R_OqE/s1600/DSC_0619.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPGZrrIqwBk0qhD9v1-RojG9s87JI2KbYCCdwpqACSI1IHC4eG2RQrvo2d0yQ4TKdJTFDLj8n1luzR0qWSzrbqJVDF2Ehl8ipU5svHwbGqFsUNZCdi_8A_Cfn9yII53qvasgy-76R_OqE/s1600/DSC_0619.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></div>
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Climbing up Mt. McCartney. Left to
right, Carter, Yoko, Tess, Jake, Serena, and Matthew. (Photo credit: Tim Billo)<o:p></o:p><br />
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Olympic Mountain Aster (Photo credit: Tim Billo)</div>
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A butterfly resting on Tim's pack (Photo credit: Tim Billo)</div>
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At the peak of Mt. McCartney. Left to
right, Serena, Matthew, Carter, Yoko, Miranda, Tess, Jake, and Anthony.<o:p></o:p> (Photo credit: Tim Billo)</div>
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The view from Mt. McCartney of the massive snow field in the valley that held remnants of the Lillian Glacier as recently as 14 years ago. The snow in this picture will all melt by the end of summer.<o:p></o:p> (Photo credit: Tim Billo)</div>
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Ready to head down into the Lillian
Glacier. Left to right, Tess, Anthony, Matthew, Merrick, Miranda, Carter,
Serena, Yoko, Jake.<o:p></o:p> (Photo credit: Tim Billo)</div>
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We hiked back down to grab our packs, took out our ice axes,
and went down into the Lillian Glacier. The first section of snow was very
steep, so a few of us slipped and ended up glissading down. Then we
plunge-stepped further down until we got to an extensive downhill section free
of rocks. Most of us glissaded down, and a few people plunge-stepped down.
Sliding on the snow was abrasive and cold (especially for the people wearing
shorts!), but everyone had fun. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Miranda glissading down Lillian
Glacier. (Photo credit: Anthony Dang)<o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTsW-gVxTdslAUTKsqPPJ5jDEeTglODIBrOtHkEDsPfnQOqYrt16rbcsskHMyzxPotjGYwmDp2F9n3vBoTNnWkoNoJ5hYvtwg7pEdvNambMFVbfkmK8cKiTfRqie2LQcnW7gx9OXkSBFs/s1600/DSC_0661.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTsW-gVxTdslAUTKsqPPJ5jDEeTglODIBrOtHkEDsPfnQOqYrt16rbcsskHMyzxPotjGYwmDp2F9n3vBoTNnWkoNoJ5hYvtwg7pEdvNambMFVbfkmK8cKiTfRqie2LQcnW7gx9OXkSBFs/s1600/DSC_0661.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></div>
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Plunge-stepping down some steep snow. (Photo credit: Tim Billo)<o:p></o:p></div>
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We regrouped on a rocky moraine. Before Tim plunge-stepped
down to the moraine, he went to a spot in the Lillian Glacier to look for ice
and the presence of ice worms. Unfortunately, he did not see any ice, and only
a little snow, so there were no ice worms. On the moraine, some of us ate a quick
lunch of Wasa crispbread, peanut butter, and almond butter. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2L5iQAjeMj3Ff2Bh4mN8or2ZK_qB9RfDsUAfWs8kzG2I2zgB15Waq8OCS2onqGH39fdA4TpnKCJYbQXqqMfxwOG74SRBAdcnu8qAkzb1Mq1PBVmL8EDb8yahPL6pMGFcbyxN0G7p2E7c/s1600/DSC_0676.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2L5iQAjeMj3Ff2Bh4mN8or2ZK_qB9RfDsUAfWs8kzG2I2zgB15Waq8OCS2onqGH39fdA4TpnKCJYbQXqqMfxwOG74SRBAdcnu8qAkzb1Mq1PBVmL8EDb8yahPL6pMGFcbyxN0G7p2E7c/s1600/DSC_0676.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></div>
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Resting on a moraine deposited by the Lillian Glacier.<o:p></o:p> (Photo credit: Tim Billo)</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpFNKGQMzP709xTGFQ7G8JQTrhemR2nwssZ9tdMuUvf5XSYrPqLTzR-pU3j2jl0h5HpBGfGGhTdovKdrdiodzqxHEyjkKE7qjoCJTq2f-deTK4hXGtNCO2u5nbPax5SKwBJU1yBK98cqM/s1600/DSC_0696+(Medium).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpFNKGQMzP709xTGFQ7G8JQTrhemR2nwssZ9tdMuUvf5XSYrPqLTzR-pU3j2jl0h5HpBGfGGhTdovKdrdiodzqxHEyjkKE7qjoCJTq2f-deTK4hXGtNCO2u5nbPax5SKwBJU1yBK98cqM/s1600/DSC_0696+(Medium).JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Half of the group heads out--Park Service regulations dictate that group sizes cannot exceed 6 in this part of the park.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuNL5Ou1HIc7dLxU7olyhLMe8FvEKXTjAh0dQe-H-7V50eKbX4u-WtVh6nRHr5FCK_RwNktn2BEVbhv_Kv_aqQTN10Pgy7o0u-Y-k6LcBUWsUxO7AL4oDscRpyDMTHsfU6QP0pTaGKTFU/s1600/DSC_0690+(Medium).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuNL5Ou1HIc7dLxU7olyhLMe8FvEKXTjAh0dQe-H-7V50eKbX4u-WtVh6nRHr5FCK_RwNktn2BEVbhv_Kv_aqQTN10Pgy7o0u-Y-k6LcBUWsUxO7AL4oDscRpyDMTHsfU6QP0pTaGKTFU/s1600/DSC_0690+(Medium).JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">An ice filled lake below the rock island, just melting out.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitnthW82oW7LooI5DU2NcKKQCjfReOmXFixp44Lkv371s7IOd7LfkJO5iSsJ2ZGU3z5OZZr3Ml6-4VEe5Az8xKtl7MAV6TefaF4UTzBbVRiggn7GZ-Ped4A1ARf599kMtuiwf-NUGCwjQ/s1600/DSC_0691+(Medium).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitnthW82oW7LooI5DU2NcKKQCjfReOmXFixp44Lkv371s7IOd7LfkJO5iSsJ2ZGU3z5OZZr3Ml6-4VEe5Az8xKtl7MAV6TefaF4UTzBbVRiggn7GZ-Ped4A1ARf599kMtuiwf-NUGCwjQ/s1600/DSC_0691+(Medium).JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Carter hikes away from the rock island.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOEk0Gj2JlXsAhsz6oWWe8cqY4qauTIB9B3YTo2pEIZg_1GiEb0Q7iKNJFykUJjo0bspNnF9K4pjAbLb4j-JPMvZUWPD2BuuF92fe1g72QKNqzmRLrKJo9aR1CZz2oMwsE6EH3NlReims/s1600/DSC_0692+(Medium).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOEk0Gj2JlXsAhsz6oWWe8cqY4qauTIB9B3YTo2pEIZg_1GiEb0Q7iKNJFykUJjo0bspNnF9K4pjAbLb4j-JPMvZUWPD2BuuF92fe1g72QKNqzmRLrKJo9aR1CZz2oMwsE6EH3NlReims/s1600/DSC_0692+(Medium).JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Half the group remains, stranded on the moraine.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP4qK-VojDgVxgA5yw2Hnr_I6EJWuvJojqhNpM_k-UcX7YtmE8YozEFEMaTnzByncVVAUEVGsIF4YpUMMhvzAcrbwDkIV1xXSO5Vnw0h7DxtudRrBUEgfn1-sjvBPhww-15x97EhN3khg/s1600/DSC_0678+(Medium).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP4qK-VojDgVxgA5yw2Hnr_I6EJWuvJojqhNpM_k-UcX7YtmE8YozEFEMaTnzByncVVAUEVGsIF4YpUMMhvzAcrbwDkIV1xXSO5Vnw0h7DxtudRrBUEgfn1-sjvBPhww-15x97EhN3khg/s1600/DSC_0678+(Medium).JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tess remains on the moraine to work on her journal.</td></tr>
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Then we split up into two groups. In the Lillian
Glacier Valley, you are not allowed to walk in groups greater than six people.
This restriction minimizes the impact of large groups on the wildlife in the
area. Since there was no trail to follow, Tim took the first group of five, and
Serena, Jake, Anthony and I waited for 45 minutes on the moraine. About 20
minutes after the first group left, we noticed someone was coming down the
steep snow that we had just come down. We got really excited to see who that
person was and meet them. About 10 minutes later, the person arrived. It was a
park ranger! She looked like she was in her mid-to-late twenties. She was
surprised to see us, and also happy and impressed that we were following the
rules by splitting up our group. We chatted with her for a while, and then she
left to continue doing her rounds in the park.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirEdrchCOIgUOqnExGCEanwsQHEyu97ffXyHJKXOQVhG3CAOv1RqXQlwhK6l7SXaXzFx_uNuPBCJgFCmBvQ8rDqAyDmVR9J2N6bAFg9U_sXK7gAfyIRJHe0pi2qgljuTFbkYH1s1zFug4/s1600/DSC_0717+(Medium).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirEdrchCOIgUOqnExGCEanwsQHEyu97ffXyHJKXOQVhG3CAOv1RqXQlwhK6l7SXaXzFx_uNuPBCJgFCmBvQ8rDqAyDmVR9J2N6bAFg9U_sXK7gAfyIRJHe0pi2qgljuTFbkYH1s1zFug4/s1600/DSC_0717+(Medium).JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Striations left by the now extinct Lillian Glacier.</td></tr>
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Tess observing glacial striations made by the
Lillian Glacier. (Photo credit: Tim Billo)<o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-DicY9EneS3r_CrEoHED-CSaDE6QKLKGXfeX2woJxAXCWmtL7epsun4VEvwExVjM3F1Upce3Ejjc6pbpxFPuEJGIUgxHxZHTBHI1CmAFIVOvzqk0n3Mbzz25hYs3Jq6S_wGkwO1g2ef8/s1600/Lillian+GLacier+1905+annotated.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-DicY9EneS3r_CrEoHED-CSaDE6QKLKGXfeX2woJxAXCWmtL7epsun4VEvwExVjM3F1Upce3Ejjc6pbpxFPuEJGIUgxHxZHTBHI1CmAFIVOvzqk0n3Mbzz25hYs3Jq6S_wGkwO1g2ef8/s1600/Lillian+GLacier+1905+annotated.JPG" height="207" width="320" /></a></div>
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Historical photo of Lillian Glacier in 1905 (photo by RC Spicer).</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN5BXa_0jPtEhL3WjG9BNcMDeDPRHHv7BkjZcV0hpErwMyc5W0lD_fHcgq2-QJJ_C4Os6XWSaYStccsKzbOvXk-dpBgzcNUYfKRxwAjW7j0jgUz0n1CEjM8AGFuMdB4DrIrqMBYk-CbqY/s1600/Lillian+Glacier+2007+annotated.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN5BXa_0jPtEhL3WjG9BNcMDeDPRHHv7BkjZcV0hpErwMyc5W0lD_fHcgq2-QJJ_C4Os6XWSaYStccsKzbOvXk-dpBgzcNUYfKRxwAjW7j0jgUz0n1CEjM8AGFuMdB4DrIrqMBYk-CbqY/s1600/Lillian+Glacier+2007+annotated.JPG" height="239" width="320" /></a></div>
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View of Lillian Glacier valley in 2006 (photo by Tim Billo) .</div>
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Aerial view of Lillian Glacier valley in late summer 2010 (photo courtesy of glaciers.us).</div>
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About 5 minutes after the park ranger left, 45 minutes had
passed since the first group left, so we followed their footprints in the snow.
Tim had told us to follow the first group’s tracks until we got to another
moraine where he would leave his pack. We found Tim’s pack and waited by it for
another 30-45 minutes. Tim led the first group a little ways, before giving
them a map and some instructions for how to navigate the off-trail terrain our next campsite, Moose
Lake. Then Tim hiked back to where our second group waited to help us continue the same off-trail trek through snow, rock, meadow, and trees towards Moose Lake.</div>
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Group 2! Yoko, Anthony, Jake and Serena.<o:p></o:p> (Photo credit: Tim Billo)</div>
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By the time Tim arrived at the moraine where we were
waiting, all of us were eager to get going. We hiked through more snow, and
then re-created a historical photo from 1905 of a lady standing next to the
Lillian Glacier. Serena did a great job posing as the lady, even though she did
not have wool knickers.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Historic photo of a lady at
Lillian Glacier in 1905.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Re-creation of the historic photo in 2014
with Serena. Note the U-Shaped opening to the valley, with moraines on either side. These should help you line up the photos. In the historic view, a massive tongue of ice fills the U shaped opening. Rock and gravel with tiny patches of snow in the background, fill the same U shaped frame today (Photo credit: Tim Billo)</div>
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Then we crossed through a meadow-like area filled with
heather. Going through the heather was a little tricky because there were large
rocks that were not visible under the heather, making it easy to lose your
step. We got through it, and then headed up towards Grand Pass. It was steep,
full of marmot holes, and a little scary at times, but we made it through that,
too. We tried to keep up a good pace and took few breaks, as it was starting to
get late by the time we made it to Grand Pass. The view from Grand Pass was
gorgeous and we were all shocked at how far we had come since we left the
moraine in the Lillian Glacier. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuIS3ETA5SId_HoMvk04FS9MACP8uQ0cHQADM8kbq8KeFjtG__9uW0DYih0b6U_xPeVka2RvevLkNlrR6eIrSUdxmi2vlTDEVFqQpJLjt_IDF5w9BpJksnHhtOj54UXjUMym9o1uHNX6Y/s1600/DSC_0708+(Medium).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuIS3ETA5SId_HoMvk04FS9MACP8uQ0cHQADM8kbq8KeFjtG__9uW0DYih0b6U_xPeVka2RvevLkNlrR6eIrSUdxmi2vlTDEVFqQpJLjt_IDF5w9BpJksnHhtOj54UXjUMym9o1uHNX6Y/s1600/DSC_0708+(Medium).JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Miranda journals below the Lillian Glacier valley.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYdq8jLzOemUGtSXu2QVxVZSuQDAxKbYJpYqu4tro6pIR2jNiI8Z7KdhIl7hKBw69RnymfZQrsz2h4UG9gcmxYIolMZr50fx3C7-SI3g9f_DHjps-tiSkhJawU8stJHygzDtK0ocIk0MQ/s1600/DSC_0735.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYdq8jLzOemUGtSXu2QVxVZSuQDAxKbYJpYqu4tro6pIR2jNiI8Z7KdhIl7hKBw69RnymfZQrsz2h4UG9gcmxYIolMZr50fx3C7-SI3g9f_DHjps-tiSkhJawU8stJHygzDtK0ocIk0MQ/s1600/DSC_0735.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></div>
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Hiking through heather--we had to navigate over the ridge at right in order to drop down to Moose Lake for the night.<o:p></o:p> (Photo credit: Tim Billo)</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjW7xS5g8fMTMmrLQZKVpjM7JvJB8uOyQsFyDcppOyQB-gPn3L1Gk0ym_3jYqavcpgHM_Zd8Zej0dyGGvxpLBKatS5pZRlrlm49BBKyU5BkO_UaCLBT26PlL5RDGKVEAwrtmwRys5uwKsM/s1600/DSC_0747.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjW7xS5g8fMTMmrLQZKVpjM7JvJB8uOyQsFyDcppOyQB-gPn3L1Gk0ym_3jYqavcpgHM_Zd8Zej0dyGGvxpLBKatS5pZRlrlm49BBKyU5BkO_UaCLBT26PlL5RDGKVEAwrtmwRys5uwKsM/s1600/DSC_0747.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></div>
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Heading towards Grand Valley by beginning the trek up to the ridge in the last photo.<o:p></o:p> (Photo credit: Tim Billo)</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0p5z7yosgzmaNIkHj430-tJygGHYvdKZJ5Il60kEp3D6s734Gk8NLIC5_n7RBmiEf1SQN2w1lwDaV1oD1i99Z_6MYCOEbMSCFrcVQyL3aohgZjFGDxwuZoWw8xCRPavLZCmM6EYDsxeU/s1600/DSC_0756.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0p5z7yosgzmaNIkHj430-tJygGHYvdKZJ5Il60kEp3D6s734Gk8NLIC5_n7RBmiEf1SQN2w1lwDaV1oD1i99Z_6MYCOEbMSCFrcVQyL3aohgZjFGDxwuZoWw8xCRPavLZCmM6EYDsxeU/s1600/DSC_0756.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Lillian Glacier valley behind us in the
distance as we near the ridge.<o:p></o:p> (Photo credit: Tim Billo)<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj03Al7WNYiowfsixmBa3NsonNP-4xm3w6e2fNz1iqiJ5Wvs2Xek2PlZ2KBDeX27oxIRpBFFYCnJT_HWr4HNUnetiUyfN87oFMpUGPtRrjWG9HG3UbbjoaN3fA_Zy9YuUMr0X1gInrrLJk/s1600/DSC_0772.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj03Al7WNYiowfsixmBa3NsonNP-4xm3w6e2fNz1iqiJ5Wvs2Xek2PlZ2KBDeX27oxIRpBFFYCnJT_HWr4HNUnetiUyfN87oFMpUGPtRrjWG9HG3UbbjoaN3fA_Zy9YuUMr0X1gInrrLJk/s1600/DSC_0772.JPG" height="320" width="213" /></a></div>
Olympic Larkspur (Photo credit: Tim Billo)</div>
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Thankfully, there was a trail we could follow from the ridge down to Moose Lake. Going off-trail is a great experience, but following a
trail felt nice after a long day. The beginning of the trail down was pretty
steep, and then it got to a more gradual downhill with stone steps. The trail
seemed to keep going on forever, but eventually we made it to Moose Lake around
8:20pm. All of us were happy and relieved to see that the first group was
already there.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQY7-8Zbz2hLL2SgNkkviNRFQTcBtsFon3d8o-CO60jZGfOHKLElz62_hr_S1g-MLFLd0eWuCUngvGFTGzyOJd4eTk7ZQTaH-CngjsJ3gxmwHkzgwvUzlDhIy8i4csPsnepDN_P7Ffx38/s1600/DSC06421.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQY7-8Zbz2hLL2SgNkkviNRFQTcBtsFon3d8o-CO60jZGfOHKLElz62_hr_S1g-MLFLd0eWuCUngvGFTGzyOJd4eTk7ZQTaH-CngjsJ3gxmwHkzgwvUzlDhIy8i4csPsnepDN_P7Ffx38/s1600/DSC06421.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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Finally at Moose Lake! (Photo credit: Anthony Dang)<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
After about five minutes of not being able to move from
tiredness, Serena and I set up our tent and started dinner with Tim and Matthew.
We made couscous and angel hair with dried mushrooms, sundried tomatoes,
seasoning, and parmesan. The food tasted especially good after a long day.
After we ate, it started raining a little, so we packed up our stuff and got
ready for bed. With Merrick’s achilles and everyone feeling tired in general,
we decided that tomorrow Tim and Carter should hike the 10 miles to Deer Park
to get the vans and drive them to Obstruction Point. That way, we would have a
much shorter hike on our last day. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
Around 10pm, it stopped raining, so we decided that we
should do Matthew’s discussion on conservation genetics. Despite the difficult
circumstances of being tired and cold, Matthew did a great job leading and
everyone participated, making it an interesting discussion. Matthew talked
about the challenges of balancing the genetics in a population to conserve the
species. He talked about Olympic marmots, where there are a lower percentage of
females in the population than males. We discussed whether introducing some Vancouver
Island marmots to the Olympic marmot population would be a good idea, and how
that could change the gene pool. We also discussed whether or not we should
alter genes to help a species combat climate change. Is it our responsibility
to help a species that is going extinct due to climate change, since we caused
it?<o:p></o:p></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
During the discussion, Tim talked about the two schools of
thought where we either use what knowledge we do have about nature and try to
do what we can to intervene and save a species, or say that there is a lot
about nature that we don’t know, so we should not mess things up by intervening
and just let nature take its course. I think most of us stood at a middle
ground between these two viewpoints. Personally, I think humans should
intervene as little as possible, but we should also focus on dealing with our
own pollution and prevent our practices from harming other species.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
We ended at 11:20pm, and after the long discussion, everyone
was eager to crawl into their sleeping bags. It was a great day, and for the
first time on this trip, I fell asleep pretty quickly.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
Personal Reflection:</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
The word that comes to mind is respect. Through this
experience, I have come to have a new respect for wilderness. This park has
taught me that life is not easy for a lot of plants and animals. Simply
surviving can definitely be a full-time job. This makes me really appreciate
the relative ease of living in a city. I also have a newfound respect for our
ancestors and past generations who lived in these wild areas. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In wild areas, there is so much more going on than we
realize. Standing at the top of a mountain, you look down and everything seems
so small. Yet, each little patch of green or brown is bustling with life. Similarly,
looking over at the Olympic mountains from Seattle, I feel like it is so easy
to dismiss the situation of the plants and animals in Olympic National Park.
From afar, it looks insignificant. Without the firsthand experience of seeing
everything and living side-by-side with the plants and animals for 9 days, it
is difficult to have strong feelings for conservation. After going on the trip,
I feel like Olympic National Park is part of my home, and any threat to the
park would be like a threat to my home.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I feel that preserving wild areas is extremely important,
and spending time in the wilderness is something I wish everyone could have the
opportunity to experience. I now realize that this preservation is not just for
the sake of beauty or to keep the earth healthy by protecting species. I
believe that it is also really good for people to just experience some healthy
fear and respect for wild areas. People should appreciate what the landscape
was like prior to humans changing everything by clear-cutting forests and
making everything manageable from a human perspective.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Going off-trail was also eye-opening for me. Being on-trail
felt very safe and easy compared to being off-trail. When you are on a trail, I
feel like you can’t fully experience the thrill of wild areas. When you are
off-trail, you are thrust into the middle of wilderness, you have to find your
own way through, trust your navigation skills, and watch your step more than
ever. I think being off-trail is what allowed me to truly develop a respect for
nature.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
Coming back and readjusting to life in the city has been
harder than I expected. I find myself thinking about the experience often and
planning more trips out in wilderness. Although I found the trip both
physically and mentally challenging at the time, it was certainly an experience
of a lifetime and I wouldn’t trade it for anything. Everything about this class
was amazing – from the professor to the readings, my fellow students, and the
experience in the park. As a biology major focusing on ecology and
conservation, I thought I had love and respect for nature before this trip.
However, the feelings I had before don’t even compare to the love and respect I
have towards nature now.<o:p></o:p></div>
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07528135481441371839noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5114351705298393707.post-6076341415200139872014-07-13T22:00:00.000-07:002014-09-20T16:14:11.692-07:00Day 8 (July 19, 2014)<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVhj1o_a1F2jpbROwH5gV-zKX8geZI1rXk0_JpmqkbdkNyqPfc_X_fGEOJjGSN4cKUn1Q88nIpllb9oZvdYBwv7SEZyStaWnRCsroj56VqpItSRrkztTWBSWAiyUi-dxsk_xhT0lIo8xo/s1600/MooseLake.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVhj1o_a1F2jpbROwH5gV-zKX8geZI1rXk0_JpmqkbdkNyqPfc_X_fGEOJjGSN4cKUn1Q88nIpllb9oZvdYBwv7SEZyStaWnRCsroj56VqpItSRrkztTWBSWAiyUi-dxsk_xhT0lIo8xo/s1600/MooseLake.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A late afternoon view from the head of Moose Lake</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Rest day. Most
everyone slept in. I was up by 8, which for me was still sleeping in. I walked down the trail towards
Grand Lake and spoke with the ranger for a minute. Continuing on a bit to a small meadow, a humming bird who was also using the trail buzzed my head. I returned to find Tim sticking his head out
of his tent. Our good mornings got
everyone else to waking up as well.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We ate a lazy breakfast, oatmeal for our cook group to which
I added peanut butter. Clouds were
rolling in and the wind picked up as we ate.
Weather threatened but I enjoyed the cooler temperatures.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Shortly after breakfast Carter and Tim left for Deer Park to
move the vans over to Obstruction Point.
We saw them off and relaxed around the camp, telling stories of life
outside of the wilderness as we anticipated our return to Seattle.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Around noon Jake, Tess, Anthony and I packed up some light
bags and headed up towards Grand Pass.
Our energy levels were up with the reduced weight and cool air. We made good time up the valley.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As we passed our previous entry point from the Lillian
Valley the wind began to rise. We hiked
over a small ridge into the valley’s head.
Here the landscape took on an alpine feel to which the low grey clouds
contributed.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilFSUEhJ8MGymkndYAV5qbEPrYsKkf-c2ISwU-7N02aE7U1G_FwvHcj3of_9AE6lr2e4kBIfAavcYWmID7mZW5sbgDyoyIRj3m4icuZdFOEIXJUY4jdE12EnL8wD2nTwx6LSsEbgayNR8/s1600/GrandPassSign.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilFSUEhJ8MGymkndYAV5qbEPrYsKkf-c2ISwU-7N02aE7U1G_FwvHcj3of_9AE6lr2e4kBIfAavcYWmID7mZW5sbgDyoyIRj3m4icuZdFOEIXJUY4jdE12EnL8wD2nTwx6LSsEbgayNR8/s1600/GrandPassSign.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The sign announcing our arrival at Grand Pass</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We crossed small snowfields and scree slopes turned muddy
from run-off. As we neared the pass we
heard a wild whooping from the direction of Grand View Peak. Sliding and running down the snow were three
men.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
They turned out to be from Lewis-McChord, recent West Point
graduates assigned to a Stryker brigade.
One in particular was interested in mountain travel and was excited to
learn self-arrest. Jake and Anthony gave
a demonstration.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We exchanged photo duties at the sign to the pass. The three men left to climb the peak opposite
Grand View. Before long they were lost
in the low clouds.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The four of us continued up the trail to Grand View. By this point the gusts were so strong that
Jake and I had to stow our hats. Clouds
rushed over and around the peaks while dew dotted our jackets.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
At the summit we took the obligatory photos against the
cloudscape. Grand view gave us no view
today, instead we were in a near white out.
We huddled off the side of the peak and ate Wassa and peanut butter. Despite the weather we were in good spirits.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZJrJQFoMzhVXnP0sw69nsPjRIKI8eAFlHaghhYv7LDfUpKmk0EzO0tDaA88apVOYoJ31Wi3dH9Zjgmh2Iuv4D2liFds3MCjDvTFX6RhfzO8yuYwbvHK2zdU7ZkTcLshOnZgbkvyfgSNA/s1600/ViewFromGrandPass.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZJrJQFoMzhVXnP0sw69nsPjRIKI8eAFlHaghhYv7LDfUpKmk0EzO0tDaA88apVOYoJ31Wi3dH9Zjgmh2Iuv4D2liFds3MCjDvTFX6RhfzO8yuYwbvHK2zdU7ZkTcLshOnZgbkvyfgSNA/s1600/ViewFromGrandPass.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A more or less clear moment from the top of Grand View Peak</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We started an easy descent back down the valley. As we neared the meadow at the base of the
ridge shared with the Lillian Valley we heard a marmot whistle. Jake, Anthony and Tess stopped to journal
while I continued on.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I returned to a sleeping camp and saw no reason not to join
in. It was a few hours later that I
awoke to Tess returning. Jake and
Anthony had gone round the head of Moose Lake to explore.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Yoko and Serena had started dinner by this point. We cooked off the rest of our pasta, throwing
in whatever sauces were left. As we
cooked the ranger returned, telling us she had seen the vans at Obstruction
Point. The amount of walking she does
amazed me. Just the previous day we had
seen her returning from Lillian Lake as we picked our way up to the high route
out of the valley. We ate and waited.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Before too long and before dark Tim and Carter
returned. They brought news of a flat
tire and, more importantly, fresh fruit and bacon. Tim dutifully ate the large portion of pasta
we had left him despite his having eaten in Port Angelas as well.<br />
_________________________________________________________ <br />
ANOTHER PERSPECTIVE ON THE DAY, FROM TIM:<br />
Matthew asked me to share some thoughts on the day here, from me and Carter, as we split from the group for the day.<br />
<br />
Carter and I got going shortly after breakfast to embark on a 10+ mile hike down into the Badger Valley (a loss of at least 1000 feet), and then up to Deer Ridge (a gain of about 3000 feet), where we would work our way back to Deer Park to pick up the vans. We made good time with light packs, but all the way, we could see the weather deteriorating. Looking back from Deer Ridge we could see dark clouds and mist, with rain showers often streaming downwards, as the wind blew hard across the range. The Olympics were being battered by an unusually strong summer storm. On Deer Ridge, we were in the rain shadow, of the Olympics, and although we felt some sprinkles of rain, it was nothing compared to what was happening on the west side of the park. I learned later that a friend of mine was weathered off of Mt. Olympus with his tent literally torn to shreds (unheard of for a summer storm in the Olympics). Granted he was at the end of a 20 day trek whose route crossed Olympus in the last few days so he didn't have much choice but to be where he was, and keep pressing onwards. Meanwhile, we could see the clouds and mist dropping into the Grand Valley. Grand Peak completely disappeared from our view several times. We could only imagine what our group was experiencing back at camp (or on Grand Peak as Matthew recounts here). For Carter and me, however, our trek took us further and further into the rain shadow of the Olympics. We could see a "blue hole" over Sequim, and even as the wind and clouds threatened us from behind, we were constantly moving into drier and drier conditions. We passed an amazing display of wildflowers on the ridge (some of which were endemic to the Olympics), and viewed many horned larks skulking around amongst the low vegetation, staying out of the wind. As we approached the final drop before the climb up to Deer Park, we looked down and saw a rainbow, and below the rainbow, a golden eagle soared on up-turned wings, passing back and forth above a sub-alpine meadow looking for marmots.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiftUsu6kcx7RNKC7fU3cfDoyHCeoYPj_6iARtgnRe8UwML2hQcMTMM4CWonXcfCY4Ekerr-U5OmnR0dCMsNlSzEDtjUveVviBm9aQVKDUAD5lueNh468Fk9Wrt5wgMzmQcTJnIaG_hLuw/s1600/DSC_0808+(Medium).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiftUsu6kcx7RNKC7fU3cfDoyHCeoYPj_6iARtgnRe8UwML2hQcMTMM4CWonXcfCY4Ekerr-U5OmnR0dCMsNlSzEDtjUveVviBm9aQVKDUAD5lueNh468Fk9Wrt5wgMzmQcTJnIaG_hLuw/s1600/DSC_0808+(Medium).JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Looking out towards the "blue hole" above Sequim, shortly after seeing the rainbow and Golden Eagle soaring below us.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlLEtpYwIPl47Nj-t9wFaX6eFnsJzt9E-25wGF0UqhYiH5yTSmZY1C00BkkHpU4jJ-Ml3Lyr4-93MdpgeoWrwdOYzvO5qAtN2STo_-A5EiExU7pWZcNeuisVrqB1lV09CrzoTU13UXqNk/s1600/DSC_0809+(Medium).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlLEtpYwIPl47Nj-t9wFaX6eFnsJzt9E-25wGF0UqhYiH5yTSmZY1C00BkkHpU4jJ-Ml3Lyr4-93MdpgeoWrwdOYzvO5qAtN2STo_-A5EiExU7pWZcNeuisVrqB1lV09CrzoTU13UXqNk/s1600/DSC_0809+(Medium).JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Looking back towards the ominous clouds from the same same position. Grand Peak and Mathew are somewhere out there in the darkest patch of cloud.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0oLwlNtrEu2l3fr5detL_5JglOV0nz9nvdcG9kX_hihCK-CczRlRQZa42NjexpWMnIZ0lkpOcDNzKuQ7w_Hh_aBT6ax3ASYuqAmE9NA4zSvQIc1zFI_pqK4hLhU6fffT2msSeFv52pmg/s1600/DSC_0817+(Medium).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0oLwlNtrEu2l3fr5detL_5JglOV0nz9nvdcG9kX_hihCK-CczRlRQZa42NjexpWMnIZ0lkpOcDNzKuQ7w_Hh_aBT6ax3ASYuqAmE9NA4zSvQIc1zFI_pqK4hLhU6fffT2msSeFv52pmg/s1600/DSC_0817+(Medium).JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Later that evening the clouds lifted and coastal fog began creeping up the valleys.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
This was the first time I had hiked this route, and I was astounded by the large stands of lodgepole pine we passed through on the way up to Deer Park. It was completely dry (despite the rain elsewhere in the park) and the pine smell was so strong it reminded me of forests on the east slope of the Cascades. The van pickup was uneventful and we drove down through sunny skies and into a blanket of fog that hung low over the Strait of Juan de Fuca. We spent as little time in town as possible, stopping only to pick up some food treats, before heading back to the Obstruction Point via a long windy dirt road, and beginning the evening trek back into the wilderness. I am continually thankful that Obstruction Point was indeed an obstruction to the further building of the road. The stretch from Obstruction Point to Deer Park is one of the most special hikes in the park, and it is mind-boggling to think that it very nearly became a road. OK, back to Matthew....<br />
<br />
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
_________________________________________<br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
Dark fell as we gathered for Anthony’s discussion. He talked about the eco-feminism movement, a
hot-button topic that generated lots of opinions. By this point in the trip I think we knew
each other well enough to push each other’s world views a bit while not
offending or attacking one another. It
was a measure of the strength of both our shared experience and character that folks who had been strangers
nine days ago were able to open up so effortlessly with their opinions without
fear.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Finally, Tim asked us to share our reflections on the past
nine days. We went in a circle, each
giving our personal account of how our time in the park gave us perspective on
ourselves and our place in the wilderness.
It was clear the trip made a profound and lasting mark on each of
us. I knew for myself that the more
intellectual aspects of the trip would manifest upon further reflection at
home. Instead I was torn between my love
of adventure and the thought of my daughter waiting for me back in
Seattle. I could feel the rift between
my past and future selves. For me the
trip was a chance to bridge these two aspects and dream about a future in which
I can share similar experiences with her as she grows.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The stars struck me that night more than any other. As we talked I watched them appear by ones
and twos in the darkening sky. I
followed satellites across lines perpendicular to the Milky Way. I turned to catch falling stars in the corners
of the valley sky. As the group broke I
kept my eyes turned up for a few minutes more, sending them my silent farewell
before climbing into my tent for the final night.<o:p></o:p></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07528135481441371839noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5114351705298393707.post-458548983452324992014-07-10T22:56:00.000-07:002014-09-20T16:38:50.045-07:00Day 9 (July 20, 2014)<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Day 9</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="line-height: 18.399999618530273px;">From the Perspective of Anthony Dang</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I woke up to an unmistakable aroma, a crackling
sound that was almost like music to my ears, I sensed it from a distance in my
tent, it was bacon. Tim was cooking bacon for breakfast that Carter and him
retrieved from an in town pit stop when they moved the vans to Obstruction
Point the day before. We each had two and a half strips and we even dipped our
Wasa bread, which I’ve developed a love-hate relationship with, in the fat for
breakfast. It wasn’t much, but it reminded us of what many were missing from
the city, home cooked meals that weren’t purely carbs. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Most of us were more than ready to leave the Olympic
National Park and return to civilization after an exhausting 8 days, but that
excitement was met with a mixture of bittersweet feelings as well. Returning
back home meant seeing friends, family, and the familiar. However, it was at
the expense of waking up to a group of adventurers who had created a bond that could
never be replicated, and leaving the wilderness that we learned so much about
and created a relationship with. For the final time of this trip, we repeated
the morning routine I had grown entirely fond of; rolling up our sleeping pads,
cooking breakfast together, purifying water, breaking down our campsites, and
most importantly leaving no trace of our presence. After a 6:30 am wake up time,
we were rearing to leave Moose Lake.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Saying
goodbye to Moose Lake, Photo credit: Tim Billo<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Hiking
to Obstruction Point, Photo credit: Tim Billo<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Yoko lead the trek towards our vans at a quick pace
as we were all restless to get home. At the top of the ridge, Tim took us
on a detour to search for endemic flowers that were becoming extremely rare due
to the mountain goats that had been introduced to the park. We hiked across the
"Spine of Death", the last of our tricky terrain for the trip, to find Piper’s
Bellflower and Flett’s Violet. At first we were all very reluctant about this
longer than expected detour, but after considering the fact that we may be some
of the last people to ever get to see and photograph these flowers before they
vanish from this earth in 20 years or sooner, reminded us how privileged we
were and to cherish our final educational moments in the park.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Flett’s Violet (bottom) and Piper’s Bellflower
(above), Photo credit: Tim Billo</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf5jssp6jJ5Tza6vK_KpEX9nBlFN2ex5Ki7he24VGpmvulrd5ztWIjph6FHF97K3Ivz-3X4sdxx8XqzhF3AVIBH4H6MqY99AS6jWw09IB6_HgerRXYd73wfejgAYYSk6dCdheS7ISCKIA/s1600/Patterned+Ground.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf5jssp6jJ5Tza6vK_KpEX9nBlFN2ex5Ki7he24VGpmvulrd5ztWIjph6FHF97K3Ivz-3X4sdxx8XqzhF3AVIBH4H6MqY99AS6jWw09IB6_HgerRXYd73wfejgAYYSk6dCdheS7ISCKIA/s1600/Patterned+Ground.JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a></div>
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returned on trail to our vans without breaking so we could make a speedy return
home. Our final lesson from Tim was on the ridge going home that mimicked the
environment of the arctic tundra [and harbored some arctic plants that remain isolated here following the last ice age] . Here
we saw circles of raised rock known as patterned ground that is caused by
freeze-thaw cycles. It wasn’t the best time of season to see how it affects the
vegetation growth, but it was still somewhat noticeable.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Tim explaining the patterned ground around him, Photo
credit: Jake Schiffler</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsrXeuBumRu0OlputzikvISy-rGPMMmLNa9cjJVkIV2G1W5ux-BFPF1RP8nArjgqOR1CNHUNru1UQ7pxXL9rI6hGLhvKlOqccdPjF3y9v-mJJ1HFMbcL1XeODuAJenlTqdlj7nr8aRL0c/s1600/DSC_0814+(Medium).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsrXeuBumRu0OlputzikvISy-rGPMMmLNa9cjJVkIV2G1W5ux-BFPF1RP8nArjgqOR1CNHUNru1UQ7pxXL9rI6hGLhvKlOqccdPjF3y9v-mJJ1HFMbcL1XeODuAJenlTqdlj7nr8aRL0c/s1600/DSC_0814+(Medium).JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Patterned ground (rock polygons) on the broad ridge near Obstruction Point, with the Needles range in the background.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Scrambling back from our trek to find Flett's violet. The flower grows in the craggiest of cracks on this ridge.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">We made the final push in our journey to exit the
Olympic National Park. We were able to see Obstruction Point in the distance
which reinvigorated our sore legs. At last we reached the parking lot which is
when the process of readjusting to life back home and our old responsibilities
began. Just seeing our cars felt foreign. We put on our clean change of clothes
we had stowed in the vans and took our final group picture. The 9 day backpacking
trip had a reached an end.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Obstruction Point. Left to right; Merrick, Tess,
Carter, Miranda, Serena, Yoko, Matthew, Jake, and our beloved professor in our
arms, Tim Billo<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">We drove out of the park moving at a slow speed of
10 mph, which compared to our hiking pace, felt like traveling at light speed.
Backpacking has taught me a great lesson in patience, which Tim brought to
light the night before in our discussion. It takes patience to get from point A
to B when backpacking. When off trail patience is even more crucial, you need
to be thoughtful about your route and each step you take. Most importantly, moving
through life at a slower patient pace allows one to drink in your
surroundings more deeply. A patient pace creates opportunities to learn from
not only people passing by you, but also your surroundings. Being in a speeding
car brought to my attention how little we value patience in our society. There
was no time to learn about the ecosystem surrounding us in a speeding van.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">After returning our bear canisters to the visitor’s center
we stopped at a pizza joint with raging appetites for food from civilization.
Despite being with our professor, several of us had ordered a beer (not
including Professor Tim or our fearless TA Carter), one of the most talked
about things we missed during the trip. It was one of the most satisfying beers
of my life. Jake and I also unashamedly devoured an 18 inch pizza. Continuing
our journey home we waited in line at the Kingston ferry terminal where some of
us indulged in ice cream and crepes from local food stops. On the ferry we
discussed who would blog each day and generated ideas for what our essays might
be about. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The ferry docked and here we were again, finally back home.
The day we returned back was after a sunny week had ended, it was gray and
dreary, typical Seattle. It fit the mood for what was the bittersweet
ending of a trip that I am never going to forget.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">It’s been more than a week after the trip has ended and
I have only just fully readjusted. The first night back in Seattle was tough. The city overwhelmed me and I
missed sleeping under the stars and waking up in the wilderness with strangers
who had become close friends. I found comfort in the rugged and quiet lifestyle
of living in the mountains. It was sensory over-load at first entering the city
again, but the trip helped me learn who and what were of real value at home and
that I needed to filter out frivolous stress inducing parts of life.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="line-height: 115%;">The amount that I learned about ecological science,
philosophy, the history of the Olympic Mountains, and my self during these 9
days was insurmountable. I feel like I gained more knowledge that will actually
stick with me in these nine days than I </span></span><span style="line-height: 18.399999618530273px;">would've</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"> had I been sitting a lecture for a full quarter. Before the trip, I had taken classes such as limnology and mycology, and
I thought I would never apply what I had learned from them to anything meaningful. The wilderness however, provides a class room and field for
scientific application where I can continue learning about science and even myself
for the rest of my life if I wanted as the </span><span style="line-height: 18.399999618530273px;">intricacies</span><span style="line-height: 115%;"> of the ecosystem are
infinite. I had always learned about why preserving the earth we live on is
important passively in class rooms, but it wasn’t until seeing the sun set on the
mountains while being surrounded by endemic flowers on Gray Wolf Pass of night 4 that
it really sunk in why conservation science is important to me.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIWIisAWHjXR8RcspH1FdjCxJKF23PBd44RefEpzKZi0udQeaXcORBWX2YLKKxS6to5JF6e-0pq9r7doSqQ-T1bfXGLi0W_6BZovnbgnQ8NaTeRMdQX0eWi6NPOTruhK7l6x58elHwx3c/s1600/DSC_0313.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIWIisAWHjXR8RcspH1FdjCxJKF23PBd44RefEpzKZi0udQeaXcORBWX2YLKKxS6to5JF6e-0pq9r7doSqQ-T1bfXGLi0W_6BZovnbgnQ8NaTeRMdQX0eWi6NPOTruhK7l6x58elHwx3c/s1600/DSC_0313.JPG" height="425" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Night 4 on top of Gray Wolf Pass, Photo
credit: Tim Billo<o:p></o:p></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07528135481441371839noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5114351705298393707.post-74006575928618856392014-07-01T00:06:00.000-07:002014-09-20T12:37:48.324-07:00Route Map and Elevational Profile<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Below is a topo map of our hiking route. The red line traces our route, starting at Deer Park and ending at Obstruction Point. This route is in the northeast corner of <a href="http://www.nps.gov/olym/planyourvisit/maps.htm" target="_blank">Olympic National Park</a>.<img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2BBpbpD2iBEkOweFqCWSHm4qzBRD_zIFxryLSCyh1fXnFAYpg05ZXb1KFqh4XXglEBmE4QZPUAWvsFiNC6kIXNeySTAa7lAmOpxNwKiulpTKl9rd-08lf1dQGblOsTd_ZErMZKPQTRdE/s1600/TOPO%2521map2.JPG" /></div>
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