Category: Backpacking

The Seattle Times’ Pacific NW magazine in October published my story on a collection of fall hikes. It was a nice, 12-page spread designed by the magazine’s art director, David Miller and edited by Bill Reader, the mag’s editor. “D-Mill” and I worked together at The Times for more than 30 years, Bill and I for about 20 years.

In assigning this story, Bill also asked me to write a “backstory,” a short page 2 piece that usually accompanies the front-page story. It’s supposed to offer some insight about the author and the “story behind the story.” Well, here’s a backstory to the backstory.

In the backstory for The Times, I wrote about my introduction to backpacking that we remember several decades ago as “The Starvation Hike,” a 55-mile slog through Olympic National Park that unexpectedly whetted my appetite for a lifetime of hiking. The unnamed family in the article was the Virtas, who became lifelong friends with my family beginning in the 1960s. The “other family” in the story responsible for food planning? They will remain nameless.

My dad was a banker for Seattle First National Bank. In 1963 he was transferred from the Mount Vernon branch to Monroe. We met the Virta family at the church we began attending. I instantly became best buds with the Virtas’ oldest son, David. We shared a love of sports – first and foremost – and just seemed to bond on every level.

But our time in Monroe was short-lived. In 1966 my dad was transferred, yet again, this time to the Sea-First branch in Sedro-Woolley. The day my dad broke the news at the dinner table we were moving from Monroe I broke down and cried. I had just finished the fourth grade. David was my best friend.

Despite being separated by an hour’s drive, our families remained good friends. In high school, David was quite the football player at Monroe, while my basketball-playing career was more modest at Sedro. We would occasionally hook up in Seattle to watch our beloved SuperSonics, or attend a UW game.

When it came time for college, David went to Seattle Pacific, I to North Park College in Chicago. Still, we managed to find time to get together. He was always kind and gentle, and loved to laugh. When Vicki and I were married in 1977, David was one of my groomsmen. We saw each other as often as we could in our adult years, even though we sometimes lived in different states.

Then in the mid-1980s, David was admitted to UW Hospital. Surgeons removed a suspicious-looking mole on his back. He was diagnosed with melanoma. I visited him at the hospital. Still, everything seemed to be fine.

Several years later, I got a call from his parents. The melanoma cancer had spread to other parts of his body. December of 1997 was the last time I saw him. I visited him at his folks’ Monroe home, where he was in hospice care. Hooked up with tubes, and struggling to breath, he couldn’t really communicate with me. But he was fully aware of my presence and what I was saying to him. I don’t remember everything I said to him on that day. But I did tell him I loved him, and that he was the best friend I ever had. It was emotional.

David would pass away a couple weeks later, 24 years ago this month (December). He was just 44 years old. I spoke at his funeral. Sadly, not even three years later, David’s dad, Bob, died from the same aggressive cancer.

So as I wrote the “backstory” piece for the hiking story, not only was I thankful for the lifelong friendship with the Virta family that introduced me to backpacking, I was also thankful for the big, gentle man in the family who would become my best friend. I still miss him to this day.

Here is a link to the “backstory”: https://www.seattletimes.com/pacific-nw-magazine/those-first-meals-on-the-trail-were-mighty-skimpy-but-backpacking-feeds-the-soul-for-a-lifetime/

This was a story that was decades in the making. As a young boy, I remember riding in the car over Stevens Pass and my dad pointing out, “you see those collapsed snowsheds over there? An avalanche of snow wiped out a passenger train, and many people lost their lives.”

So when Seattle Times Features Editor Stefanie Loh pitched a story idea to me about “hiking for history buffs” I knew exactly where I wanted to go – the “Iron Goat Trail” that follows the ill-fated Great Northern Railway route built in the late 1800s. I never made it to the actual spot where the 1910 “Wellington Avalanche” took out an awaiting passenger train named the “Spokane Express.” But I was in the vicinity, imagining what life was like when trains rumbled across the side of Windy Mountain on their way to the West.

For the second “history hike,” I chose to travel to the ghost town of Monte Cristo. In its heyday, in the late 1890s, this old mining town pumped out millions of dollars of silver ore.

The story was published August 1 on the cover of the Mix section of the Sunday Times.

Many thanks to my hiking companions: Jeff Whidden, who accompanied this old goat to the Iron Goat Trail; and Bill Cheney, my partner on the trail to Monte Cristo. Together, we experienced the full Monte. As much as I enjoyed these walks through history, it was the conversations along the trail I treasured most.

I would be remiss if I didn’t include a link to the story in The Times. If you hit the paywall, and are unable to subscribe (which I highly recommend), here’s the story below with additional photos The Times didn’t have room for or deemed unworthy.https://www.seattletimes.com/life/outdoors/history-in-the-hills-2-classic-pacific-northwest-hikes-for-history-buffs/

By Rick Lund
Special to The Seattle Times

    There’s history in them thar hills.

    Hiking in the Pacific Northwest, it’s easy to focus on the majestic waterfalls, rugged peaks, deep valleys and Alpine meadows and lakes. What can be easily overlooked are hidden relics of the past.

     Here, we take a step back in time and imagine what life was like in the Cascades more than a century ago, and marvel at the herculean efforts that were required to cut through mountains of granite, whether it was for a rail route to the West or a way to unearth gold and silver.

     For old times sake, here’s two classic hikes for history buffs:

Iron Goat Trail

      Talk about a leisurely stroll through history. There’s so much to like about this trail, it’s hard to know where to begin.

      But let’s start with this: It’s easy. This is a great trail for hikers of all ages, from kids to retired folks. Yes, even an old goat can navigate the Iron Goat.

      The grade is gentle because it follows the old Great Northern railroad grade that was built over the Cascades in the late 1890s. The temptation is to put yourself in overdrive and cruise this wide, gravel trail at a fast clip. But that would be a serious mistake.

       Take your time reading the interpretive signs along the 6-mile loop that tell of the history of a rail route that’s been abandoned for nearly 100 years. The signs along the trail with numbers are the miles to St. Paul, Minnesota, where the railroad originated.  You pass old tunnels and snowsheds in various stages of collapse. Once engineering marvels, they have been reduced to ghosts of the past as they slowly succumb to the forest.

        The place reeks of history. You can smell it in the air. Peering into a tunnel I could almost imagine the whistle of an oncoming train rumbling along the railroad grade that is now engulfed by ferns, trees and boulders. Then I actually hear a train whistle, only to realize it’s coming from Highway 2 below as a train enters the current tunnel near Scenic. It’s an eerie feeling.       

        We started our hike at the Martin Creek trailhead just east of Skykomish, choosing to do the loop counter-clockwise beginning with the lower trail. Fairly early on, the trail passes the famed “twin tunnels.” Sandwiched between the two concrete behemoths is what’s left of a wooden show shed made of large timbers, some of which were up to 30 feet long. Remnants of the old timber snowsheds are plentiful along the loop, most of them totally flattened over time by avalanches and blowdowns.

        At one point you’re hit by a continual blast of cold air coming from a wall of rock. The kiosk nearby describes this as an “adit,” a short tunnel that was used to gain access to the center of one of the twin tunnels during construction. Once the tunnel was in use, the adit served as a ventilation shaft. On this warm day, the cold air was refreshing. I could have spent hours sitting here during our heat wave in late June.

        One can’t help but note the dates “1914” stamped into the concrete of the tunnel portals. These concrete tunnels were not a part of the original track, which at the time of its construction was considered the model transcontinental railroad route in America.

      Of course, this well-intentioned route to reach the enormous quantities of timber, minerals and agricultural lands west of the Cascades in the Pacific Northwest — when there was neither road nor railroad access — had a short lifespan. The old rail route was no match for winter weather in the Cascades. Trains were constantly delayed by sliding snow in the winter, known today as “Cascade Concrete.” In the summer, falling boulders onto the track also caused delays.

      And then on March 1, 1910, the unthinkable happened. As two trains were waiting out a late-winter storm on the tracks at Wellington, a wall of snow 14 feet high swept down Windy Mountain and slammed into the trains, hurtling them 150 feet down into the Tye River gorge.

      The “Wellington Avalanche” claimed 96 passengers and crew, one of the deadliest rail disasters in U.S. history. By 1929 trains were diverted to the newly-built 7.8-mile tunnel at a lower elevation under Stevens Pass between Scenic and Berne that is still in use today.

      The majority of the massive concrete tunnels and concrete-sided snow sheds were built after the 1910 avalanche to avert a similar tragedy.  These “combination snow sheds” were built of concrete on the mountain side of the track and covered by a timber roof. The most impressive concrete-enforced snowshed can be seen on the east end of the lower loop, stretching for more than one-third of a mile. The amount of concrete used for the project, likely hauled by steam donkey in that era, is mind boggling.

      Just before the 3-mile mark, a paved turn to the right leads to Scenic and an alternative trailhead by the red caboose. ­It should be noted that by starting at Scenic at Highway 2 and doing the 6-mile loop clockwise, the elevation gains along the railroad grade are more gradual, and you lose 700 feet of elevation on the crossover trail back to your vehicle.

      We pressed on ahead, climbing the Windy Point crossover trail to the upper trail, which requires a climb of 700 feet to reach the upper switchback of the old railway. A left turn at this intersection takes you back to the Martin Creek trailhead. By turning right, it’s 3 miles to the Wellington trailhead and by the 1910 avalanche site, adding about 6 miles to your round trip.

      We took the signs for Wellington, stopping for lunch a quarter of a mile down the trail at the Windy Pt. overlook. But after scrambling around a couple tree blowdowns on the trail, we came upon a section of the trail taken out by an avalanche that was too expansive to get around. Disappointed, we turned around and headed back to the Martin Creek trailhead.

      The upper trail isn’t as wide and well-maintained as the lower trail. But it’s still beautiful. A short side trail up a set of stairs takes you to the “Spillway Spur” and where an old reservoir was. It’s worth taking, though the trail is rough.

     I’m told remants of the old Martin Creek horseshoe tunnel and trestle can be seen by leaving the designated trail. That will have to wait for another day. ­­

About the Iron Goat Trail        

Distance: 6 miles round trip (the loop between Martin Creek and Scenic)
Elevation gain: 700 feet. Highest point: 2,800 feet.
Did you know? The Iron Goat Trail is named after the goat in the logo of the now-defunct Great Northern Railway.
GETTING THERE
Martin Creek trailhead: Take Highway 2 toward Stevens Pass to Milepost 55. Turn left onto the paved Old Cascade Highway. At the junction with Forest Road 6710, take a left on the gravel road. In 1.4 miles, you’re at the trailhead.
Wellington trailhead: Take Highway 2 to Tye Road, also known as the Old Cascade Highway, which is just west of the Stevens Pass Ski Area. Follow the rough but passable pavement for 3.5 miles. Turn right into the parking lot.

Monte Cristo

     There really was gold and silver in these hills back in the day. Joe Pearsall and Frank Peabody discovered the rich vein of precious metals in the summer of 1889, the same year Washington became a state.

       Between then and 1907, the town of Monte Cristo was teeming with activity. Mines above the town pumped out millions of dollars in minerals. This was not a poor prospector’s game, but rather was backed by big corporations with deep pockets. A railroad was built between Monte Cristo and Everett to carry the processed silver ore to a smelter. The mining boom lured thousands of men to this isolated mining town, which is about four miles from today’s Mountain Loop Highway in eastern Snohomish County.

     All that’s left 114 years later are traces of what this town was.

     Rusted-out bed frames, mining tools and pieces of railroad track and railway cars and other relics are randomly strewn around, as if they’re props for a play. Street signs are posted where the town’s busy streets used to run – which is hard to imagine, because while the swaths are wide enough, the ground is hardly level. Only portions of the foundations of the town’s original buildings remain. Other weather-worn, ancient-looking, wood buildings in various stages of collapse at first glance appear to be original structures — until you realize they were actually built after this boom town went bust.

       Having said that, if you like history and beautiful scenery, this hike is for you.

       The trailhead is at Barlow Pass on the Mountain Loop Highway 30 miles east of Granite Falls, and is popular with hikers and bikers. There’s several parking spots by the trailhead and a parking lot across the highway. If you’re hiking on the weekend, get there early.

      Like the Iron Goat Trail, this 8-mile round trip to the ghost town of Monte Cristo is easy. The trail follows a route taken by miners more than a century ago and, more recently, a gravel road that has been closed for several years. The trail for the most part sticks to the road, except for a large section where it is diverted around a portion of the road that was washed out by flooding of the south fork of the beautiful Sauk River.

        A nice, pedestrian bridge over the Sauk marks the entrance to Monte Cristo. Remnants of an old railway turntable are off to the right. A group of boys pushes one end of the rusty girder, swinging it in circular fashion. Interpretive signs tell of the town’s history. Private cabins built in the 1950s ring the grassy area, which not only includes remnants of a power house and water tower, but modern picnic tables for lunch.

        Head farther up the trail to get the full Monte. Soon you’ll pass the foundation of what was once the Monte Cristo Lodge, the last bastion of tourism at the old mining town.

       While the financial crisis in the U.S. in 1907, better known as “The Panic of 1907,” signaled the end of most of the mining at Monte Cristo, the town for years afterward was a resort destination. Tourists could board a train in Everett and travel to Monte Cristo for a picnic, or even stay at the Royal Hotel, which would eventually become the Monte Cristo Lodge. The railroad was scrapped in 1933, leaving tourists to travel by car, which they could still do up until 1980. But when there was flooding in December of that year, and the county decided not to make bridge or road repairs, it proved to be the death knell for the lodge. It promptly closed, and burned to the ground in 1983 under suspicious circumstances.

        Another foot bridge heads toward the “downtown district” of once was the heart of this old mining town. We’re stopped by a woman wearing a cap that read “The Mayor of Monte Cristo.” She offered us a tootsie pop — which we declined —  but we took her up on her offer to let us tour a cabin she owns that was built in 1926 from the ruins of the old town. She wears the cap because she says the cabin was once owned by her hero, the self-annointed, unofficial mayor of Monte Cristo, Garda Fogg, who began backpacking in the Cascades in the early 1900s.

      Located near the top of (the route formerly known as ) “Dumas Street” is the remains of the famed “Concentrator,” where tons of ore arrived by tramway from hillside mines and were processed by coal-powered steam machinery. In its heyday, a typical week’s shipment to the American Smelting and Refining Company in Everett in the summer of 1896 was more than 1,000 tons, worth $920,000 in 2016 dollars.

While those days are long gone, the history in these hills will never fade away. You just have to look for it.

Rick Lund is a former assistant sports editor with The Seattle Times

About Monte Cristo

Distance: 8 miles round trip. Elevation gain: 700 feet. Highest point: 2,800 feet.
Did you know? The initial gold and silver strike at Monte Cristo was backed by New York financiers with ties to John D. Rockefeller.
GETTING THERE
Barlow Pass trailhead: From Granite Falls, follow the Mountain Loop Highway (530) east for 30 miles.

I certainly don’t consider myself an expert on backpacking equipment. But I’ve hiked enough, and accummulated enough gear over the years to know what’s needed. I used an anecdote from a group hike with Jeff Whidden and other friends in the lead of the story. He/she will remain nameless. Would never want to embarrass him/her.

Here is the full version of my story that was published May 21 in The Seattle Times. The optional items were trimmed in the story that ran in print.

By Rick Lund
Special to The Seattle Times

     A few years ago, as we gathered at a meeting place for a group hike, one participant arrived with an army-style duffle bag that was supposed to serve as a backpack.

    After looks of astonishment from everyone present, the leader of the group raced home and retrieved a spare backpack for the inexperienced hiker, most certainly saving that person from three days of hiking hell.

    That’s a far-flung example of backpacking unpreparedness. But one can never assume first-time backpackers know what to bring on an overnight trek in the mountains.

      Planning for a backpack trip should be similar to packing for a vacation trip or an even a simple trip to the grocery store. Make a list. Check it twice.    

      It’s also important to travel light. The weight of all the items adds up quickly in your backpack. What you think you need beforehand – multiple sets of clothing and non-essential food – might not seem like such a good idea in hindsight when you’re struggling up a steep trail in the heat of the day with an overloaded pack.

      With that in mind, here’s a list of backpacking essentials, as well as some optional items, to bring on your trip:

ESSENTIALS

     Backpack: Most are made of nylon with an internal frame made of steel. Sizes can range from 35-110 liters of gear capacity, and can weigh by themselves between 3-5 pounds.

     Comfortable hiking boots or trail running shoes: Hiking boots will offer better ankle support, which is important on the trail.

     Lightweight tent: Most backpacking tents are shaped like a dome and rely on crossing poles and guy lines to create a rigid frame. Two-person tents usually weigh between 2.5 and 5 pounds. One with a rainfly is recommended.

     Down sleeping bag and compression stuff sack: Even in the middle of the summer, you might be surprised how cold it gets at night at higher elevations. It’s not uncommon to wake up to frost on the ground. Most backpacking sleeping bags weigh from 1.5 to 3 pounds.

     Insulated sleeping pad: Your back will thank you for it. Trying to sleep on the hard ground, and quite possibly on a stray rock or two, is no fun. Air insulated sleeping pads don’t take up much space (many fold into a small stuff sack) and require a minimal amount of huffing and puffing to inflate.

     Lightweight cooking stove and fuel: Don’t ever assume you can build a fire for cooking. Many wilderness areas prohibit campfires during hiking season. Most backpacking stoves are small, fold up easily and typically screw onto threaded tops of self-sealing, liquid fuel canisters.

     Lighter to fire up the stove: A Bic lighter will do, or matches, as long as they’re protected from moisture.

     Water bottles: You’d be surprised how easily you can become dehydrated along the trail, especially when it’s hot. You’ll know it when your leg muscles begin to cramp. Make sure your water bottles together hold a minimum of 2 liters of water for the trail. Keep them handy so they’re easily accessible for frequent water breaks. Also, know ahead of time where the water sources are along the trail for filtering.

     Lightweight cooking pot: A pot holding one or two quarts is ideal for boiling water for a small hiking party at the campsite.

     Food: Freeze-dried food has come a long way over the years. It’s light, doesn’t take up much room and requires just adding water. “Mountain House” and “Backpacker’s Pantry” are two of the more popular brands, and can be purchased at most outdoor outlets. For something more higher end, “PackitGourmet” can be ordered online. Beyond freeze-dried food, items such as bagels, mixed nuts, dried fruit, beef jerky, granola bars and granola cereal and instant oatmeal don’t take up much room, and can also be good snacks for rest breaks along the trail. Hot-chocolate mix and powdered juice mix add a little variety to water.

     Water filtration device: For drinking water, it’s essential to have some sort of water filtration system to remove bacteria and giardia from the water you obtain along the trail. A pump system, a “squeeze bag” setup or a gravity filter method are among the most popular ways to move water through a microfilter. Bacteria can also be removed with iodine pills.

     Collapsible water bladder or bag: For filtered water storage at your campsite. You’ll go through a lot of water for cooking, drinking and washing dishes. A bladder that holds about 6 liters of water is a good capacity.

     Trekking poles: Not only are they good for balance along the trail, but they provide essential balance support when you’re walking across a fallen log or boulder-hopping a stream.

     Weather-appropriate clothing: Think of the old Scandinavian mantra: “There’s no such thing as bad weather, only bad clothes.” Make sure you have quick-drying nylon long pants, a lightweight raincoat or poncho, a stocking cap and fleece gloves for cold nights (for high-elevation hikes), a light wool or fleece sweater, a synthetic long-sleeved shirt, and hiking shorts if you’re expecting hot weather. An extra pair of socks, underwear and a fleece or wool pants for the night are also recommended.

     Insect repellant: Mosquitoes and deer flies are plentiful in the mountains, and can make your life miserable. Insect repellant with a minimum 40 percent of DEET (if you’re comfortable with that) helps ward off the pesky flies. If you’re really bothered by biting bugs, a mosquito head net with an insect shield is recommended.

     Sunblock and sunglasses: The sun can be intense in the mountains. It doesn’t take much to get a sunburn, especially if you’re walking on snow.

     First-aid kit: Always a good idea, even if it’s a minor cut from falling along the trail.

     A small flashlight or headlamp: If for whatever reason you must hike at night, or to navigate your campsite after dark, this is another essential item.

     A map and compass: Most U.S. Forest Service Ranger stations have hiking maps for their region. Topographical “Green Trail” maps can also be purchased at many outdoor retail outlets. For phone-based navigation, “Maps.Me” and “Gaia GPS” are useful apps. But you’ll want to download a map of the area you’re traveling to prior to your trip since there’s a good chance you won’t have cell service on the trail.

     50 feet of rope or utility cord: You’ll want to hang your food at night in a tree in a stuff sack or plastic bag to keep the bears and other critters from eating your provisions. Storing food at night in your tent is an open invitation to them to come and visit you.

     A plastic hand shovel and bio-degradable toilet paper: Select a site at least 200 feet from a water source whenever possible. Bury waste in a hole three- to six-inches deep and cover with soil. Use backcountry toilets whenever possible.  Where toilets are not available and digging is not possible, such as sub-alpine areas, snow, rock or glaciers, pack out waste.

     Permit: A federal Northwest Forest Pass is required to park at most trailheads on Forest Service trails, a backcountry permit is required on many national park trails, and a Discover Pass at some lower-elevation trails, particularly at state parks. You don’t want to return to your vehicle to find a ticket on your windshield.

OPTIONAL

      Camera: One with a telephoto lens that’ll get you closer than what your smartphone can offer.

      Teva-style sandals: Always feels good to take off the dusty, sweaty hiking boots and slip into something more comfortable at the campsite.

      Lightweight rain pants: If you’re expecting rainy weather.

      Swimsuit: Nothing like taking a dip in a stream or alpine lake (if you can stand the cold temperature!) in the afternoon to wash off the dirt and grime from the trail.

     Insulated vest or light jacket: If you get cold easily.

     Duct tape: It can come in handy. Some hikers store it by wrapping a small roll around a trekking pole.

     Lightweight camp chair: There are no picnic tables at mountain-trail campsites. You’re lucky to find a log to sit on. If you’re looking for a little more comfort and willing to pack an extra 2 pounds or so, a compact, a collapsible chair will fold into a fairly small bag to place in your backpack.

      Lastly, you should always let someone know when you’re going and when you plan to be back. And don’t assume you can make a call on your cell phone if you’re lost, stranded or running behind schedule. Cell service is virtually non-existent, or at best spotty, in the mountains. It’s also a good idea to document your start date, expected return date and the number of people in your hiking party at the “sign-in” sheets, which are posted at many trailheads.

Rick Lund is a former Times assistant sports editor

When I was a young boy, our family would occasionally make our way up Chuckanaut Drive after church to have Sunday dinner at the Oyster Bar.

The Oyster Bar back then wasn’t anything like today version, which is gourmet and pricey, a restaurant you’d go to celebrate a special occasion, like your wedding anniversary.

The “original” Oyster Bar was more like Ivar’s Salmon House light. It had more of a casual dining feel. Your modestly-priced dinner — oysters, breaded prawns or fish and chips were the usual main fare – arrived on a plain, dinner plate, not the fancy china delivered to your table today. It always came with a crab cocktail appetizer, which I still remember today as very tasty.

But what was really memorable were the words prominently printed on the menu:

“The oysters you eat today, slept last night in Samish Bay.”

Little did I know then a trailhead just across the road from the restaurant led to a rocky vista that looked down on Samish Bay and the surrounding Salish Sea … before it was called the Salish Sea. The final destination on the trail is appropriately called Oyster Dome.

I hiked that trail for the very first time last week. Don’t know why it took me so long. It’s one of the low-elevation, spring hikes I’ve recommended for a story that will be published soon in The Seattle Times.

Oyster Dome

The shallow, firm-bottomed waters of Samish Bay are ideal for growing oysters. No surprise the northern shores of the bay are home to a shellfish farm, and a longtime oyster-specialty restaurant just up the hill on scenic Chuckanut Drive in its early days touted this memorable slogan:

      “The oysters you eat today, slept last night in Samish Bay.”

     The pearl of this oyster haven looms high overhead. It’s Oyster Dome, a rocky promontory on the western slope of Blanchard Mountain and the pride of the Chuckanut Mountain range.

      And when it comes to day hikes, unlike the oysters below, don’t sleep on this one. The views of the Salish Sea from 2,025-foot Oyster Dome are jaw dropping.

     To the left is the Skagit River flats, Samish Island, Guemes Island, Anacortes, and Mount Erie near Deception Pass. To the right is the south end of Lummi Island, and straight ahead, the San Juan Islands. Orcas Island is particularly conspicuous among the islands, thanks in part to Mount Constitution, which pokes just 373 feet higher than Oyster Dome.

      Framing all this way in the background are the snowcapped Olympic Mountains.

      It’s best to begin the hike at the Samish Outlook parking area on Blanchard Mountain. From the trailhead, you’ll start on a section of the Pacific Northwest Trail, descending slightly for 0.4 of a mile before the junction with the Samish Bay connector and trail to Chuckanut Drive.

     At this point, give yourself a high five. Not only have you saved time and nearly 1,000 feet of elevation gain by not starting on Chuckanut Drive, the alternative trailhead, your vehicle also isn’t precariously parked on the shoulder of the busy road.

      The rest of the 2.5-mile ascent to Oyster Dome is fairly gentle. At about the 2-mile mark you’ll come to a junction for the trail to nearby Lily and Lizard lakes, a camping option for the overnight backpacker.

      A final scramble up the hill lands you upon Oyster Dome. Take a break, have lunch, watch an occasional bald eagle fly by, and take in the breathtaking views.