If you can't board, hike!

Had I been enduring the last couple of weeks of bone-shaking Mitten weather, I might very well be flaunting the bragging trope of "60's and sunny" but the truth is, I've been slightly perturbed that winter has decided to pass us by in the PNW.

The second week into February and it is indeed 60's and sunny. Regardless of what kind of climate crisis this may be indicative of, I am simply sad that I have not been able to cash in on my second year of having lift tickets for snowboarding, which drastically decreases the likelihood of investing in it when I do have to pay once I leave here.

Boarding really did change my bias against winter. Even as I battled the persistent anxieties each time I headed up to the pass, my endorphins ended up on cloud nine by the time I was done. It was good for me.

While the season isn't over, I'm not holding my breath.

The silver lining however, has been that hiking trails that are normally snowed in right now are fairly accessible. So weekends that I'd tentatively marked with "Pass?" on my calendar are now being filled in with hiking adventures.

Last week, the weather had anticipated rain and I lazily justified the possibility as a reason to write off a hiking plan. But by noon, not a drop had fallen and I'd been feeling restless and lethargic. Fed up with such sensations, I headed to Packwood Lake, the only hike of significance that I could think of on such an impulsive notice. It has need failed that the Packwood Lake loop becomes "old" for me for the last mile stretch or so. Yet despite knowing how I'd feel for that stretch, I continue to revisit it. The leisurely level path makes it easy to ponder and walk and the serenity at the lake is worth the trek. And having now seen it at every season, I think this anomalous, snow-free February day was one of my favorite. The dampness of winter lit up the green moss but I wasn't thwarted by the snow that had Tony and I climbing over felled trees and melting patches last March.

It is easy to take the flatness for granted though, and pretend the trail is no big deal. However, the reality of the 9 miles left my hips in a crunch for days. Another reason to keep up this hiking on the regular.

So this weekend, I finally made it up to Tatoosh Ridge, a trail I've been wanting to explore since I came here. Typically snowed in right now, I was informed that it would be completely doable. Hearing about how steep it was, I was prepared for an all-day hike. I left around 8:30am and got about 6 out of the 7 miles up the forest road before hitting a huge wash out, now claim to an impressive waterfall. I decided I'd endured enough pot holes to get that far and trekked the rest of the way to the trail head by foot, passing at least three more raging falls.

Immediately, the trail begins going up with a flight of log stairs. It semi-levels out for a time, leading in mild undulating waves in the path before beginning its series of ever steeper switch backs. The first time rising up the east side of the trail was gorgeous, the morning sun awakening the forest in gold light. At the switch, I turned inward into the shady depths. This transition became more welcome as the incline rose and the layers shed. Habitually one to push on and on, I graciously practiced the art of pause, sitting on root-benches and taking out my journal here and there. About two hours in, I began to sense a break and anticipate the top of the ridge. The mountains beyond were leveling with my line of vision. However, as the path unfolded its trajectory, it appeared to be heading for the precise ridge that was covered in snow. This theory was supported the patches of the stuff that were becoming increasingly less patchy as I progressed. Solid enough, I decided to keep trudging over it until I deemed it impassible. There were other boot prints and a dog so I knew someone had made the venture recently. Fortunately, my eyes were fixated on the snow after my mother and I's experience on Tongue Mountain last year and I spotted the first sign of cougar tracks. Going a few feet further, goat tracks joined the picture and then they stopped, with Cougar prints heading up the hill on my left. Especially being alone this time, I let mr. Cougar dictate the length of my hike. After making it back out of the snow, I found a place to sit by a stream and write some more before heading back down with the forward momentum encouraged by the steep, now-down hills. Come wildflower season, I will definitely be revisiting the ridge, and seeing the top.