BB's BLOG
2010
All Material and Photos Copyright Barry Brower
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Hiking:
North Cascades-Maple Pass
Slide Show
Maple Pass is somewhat of a misnomer. While there is a maple "flavor" to the Fall color of some of the trees, it is the curious Larch, not the Maple. Also known as a Tamarack it is unusual because, while a conifer, it also loses its needles every year. Stan Miller, my hiking buddy, enticed me into this October hike with the promise of the colorful Larch but also of expansive vistas, since we would be hiking above tree line (about 5500 feet) much of the time, as high as 7 thousand feet. It turned out to be everything I hoped for...and more.
To get to the Maple Pass trailhead from Anacortes is a two-and-a-half hour drive. I met Stan at a "park and ride" near Mt. Vernon, early on a lovely Fall day, and we headed east on the North Cascades Highway. This road is worth the price of admission itself, cutting through majestic mountains, forests, and lakes, much of it in North Cascades National Park. We arrived at the trailhead, just off the highway at Rainy Pass, elevation approx. 4900 feet.
This is actually a loop trail, if you choose, but if you choose that I would recommend doing it counter-clockwise by staying to the right behind the trailhead sign. The reason for this is that it is an easier ascent to the pass. However, the down side (so to speak) is that you must descend a steep ridge to complete a loop. All-in-all, I believe that is preferable to the steeper ascent clockwise. If you disagree, then hang a left at the sign and follow the paved trail (which ultimately leads to Rainy Lake) until you see a dirt trail angling off to the right.
The early part of the trail is through old growth fir and hemlock. It climbs steadily but relatively easily. At about 1.3 miles is a side trail which leads to Lake Ann. Stay to the right and soon you will exit the forest and the open views of the valley begin to appear.
Stan Miller points to Maple Pass in the distance 
The trail traverses the slope on the northwest side of the valley, mostly in the open, and soon, to my surprise, we were approaching Heather Pass, only 4 hundred feet below our lunch destination at Maple Pass. Here we stopped for a few moments and I immediately noticed some very low growing blueberries in the heather. They were succulent, and came as a pleasant surprise as it has not been a good year for mountain blueberries for the most part.
Even at this lower pass there were some phenomenal views. To the west (see top photo) we could see Black Peak (8970 feet) and Corteo Peak (8080 feet), as well as several other lesser peaks. To the norh, just beyond the North Cascades Highway, was a lovely range of butterscotch-colored peaks highlighted by Golden Horn (8366 feet).
Golden Horn group
After a brief stop we moved on and soon reached Maple Pass. Here the views are simple stunning.
To the east/northeast we could see down the entire breadth of the valley, past Lake Ann to various peaks near Washington Pass on the highway, the Picketts, and others. Turning to the west were the afore-mentioned Black and Corteo Peaks and, in the distance many North Cascade mountains, already snow covered in some cases.
In fact, every direction we turned was a spectacular vista.
There were several groups of hikers resting and having lunch and we we soon doing the same thing by a small tarn lake.
The hike to Maple Pass was pretty easy, compared to a similar jaunt Stan and I took to Yellow Aster Butte a few months back (and chronicled below). I was exhausted by the time I reached the topmost point of that hike, and even more so by the time we got back to the trailhead. Not this time, though the elevation gain and distance were comparable. I believe this was because it was about 90 degrees on the way to Yellow Aster, and we were plagued with deer and horse flies much of the time, which made it difficult to rest. As well, the heat quickly dispatched me of the water supply I brought (several quarts).
This time, however, it was a piece of cake. The cool, crisp 50-degree temperatures and lack of flies made all the difference. It is clear to me now that, while August would seem to be an ideal time to hike, with predictably fair weather (well, mostly predictable), the later, clear September and early October days have their own merit. There is also the advantage of the changing colors, the gold larches and reddish leaves of blueberries and other plants a lovely contrast to the green conifers.
After reaching a 7 thousand-foot pass we started our descent along the ridge forming the south side of the valley. The initial portion of the descent traverses a steep slope off the pass and it is important to keep an eye here on your steps. Should you lose your balance, or inadvertently step off the trail, it is a long slide down the hill.
While not as interesting a route as the upward trail on the north side, it is nonetheless beautiful in spots here, too. Part of the ridge, as you can see in the photo above, had been in shade most of the day and the trail drops steeply through this area. As a consequence, there was still some ice on the path and we had to step carefully in some spots. This section, while probably no longer than the trail up to the pass, seemed to go on much longer and we were happy to reach the car finally, all told about 5 hours round trip.
On the way down we ran into some hikers carrying a video camera and, questioning them, discovered that they were working for England's BBC, scouting out areas for a wildlife documentary, possibly to be aired on the Discovery channel. "If we like it here, we'll be back in the Winter to photograph animals." Their work has appeared on Planet Earth and in National Geographic.
Shortly after we left them we rounded a corner in the woods and encountered...a grouse, who conveniently allowed me to snap a photo.
Not too much further down we ran into a couple of young women resting by the trail. One had a backpack so I asked her if they were going to camp up at Maple Pass. "No, we're hiking the Pacific Crest Trail." "Oh," I responded, "Where did you start?" "Mexico." They were on the last stages of a long adventure, which must have begun in March or April.
A cold beer was waiting for each of us in the car, and as we departed we figured the adventure was over. To our complete surprise, about 4 miles down the road, we were treated to a rare sight: a bull moose, highly unusual in this area of the state. It was just standing by the side of the road, and remained there long enough for me (safely in my car) to snap a few photos. Here are a couple:
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Historical:
Into the Crater
Slide Show
NOTE: It is illegal and dangerous to hike into the crater of Mt. St. Helens. The route is off-limits to the public. The trips I took were with a geologist who had permission and knew the route. Don't try it!
It was 20 years ago this month, in September 1990, that I made my second hiking trip into the crater of Mt. St. Helens. This was 10 years after the initial blast that sent a plume of ash 80-thousand feet into the atmosphere blanketing 11 states. 57 people were killed and hundreds of square miles of forested area reduced to charred remnants in a matter of minutes. Among the dead were Harry Truman, an iconoclastic caretaker of the Spirit Lake Lodge who chose not to evacuate, and geologist David Johnston who thought he was safe miles from the epicenter of the blast. The ridge where he died is now named after him.
John Pitlick, master geologist
I was invited on the hikes to help my friend John Pitlick, a geologist, who was doing some work with the Volcano Observatory in 1989, and guiding a graduate geology class from Eastern Washington University in 1990. He and I worked in Redwood National Park in the Fall and Winter of 1979-80. We were doing stream/sediment measurements then as part of rehabilitation efforts there following the expansion of the Park into logged-over areas. John is now a Professor at the University of Colorado.
It is simply amazing to see the crater, and the evolution of nature just one decade removed from the 1980 eruption. My impressions included the sense that this was the closest experience I would have to being on the moon. There is little vegetative re-growth (only at the base of the mountain) and the hike a demanding, extremely dusty, boulder and rock-strewn adventure. There are constant rockfalls in the crater and the valleys we pass through, adding an additional level of stress to it all. We encounter thermal streams which create steam and multi-colored algae growth. Contrasted with the stark surroundings it strikes me metaphorically as the "fires of hell."
John guides students through a particularly dangerous section of the route, rockfall a constant threat.
The hike itself is not too long, about 7-8 miles roundtrip but difficult, as I implied. There is no trail; it is totally a cross-country route which is not obvious. It is similar to walking on the beach in that one's feet sink with every step, doubling the effort required for each step. Dust is kicked up and quickly fills our boots and covers our sweating bodies (temperatures are in the 90s). It affects our breathing as well. Rocks and boulders stand in the way with virtually every step.
On top of this there is significant altitude gain from the start of the hike to the crater floor at 5500 feet or so. To top it off, I actually get stung by a bee inside the crater! This is (very) surprising since there is absolutely no plant life here, only at the base of the mountain. Thus, while these are great adventures I am quite happy each time we jump in our vehicle and head home.
A rockfall landslide, inside the crater
Inside the crater one gets a sense of the incredible amount of geologic displacement of the mountain. It is around 3 thousand feet from the crater floor to the rim. From rim to rim is perhaps a half mile or more and this entire area was once a solid, conical mountain. All of it was excavated in moments the explosion and landsliding of May, 1980.
It is eerie in here. Everything is pretty calm, except for the constant landsliding, which is far enough away from us as not to be a threat. The day is sunny and hot, with little wind, and everything seems copasetic. However there's that disquieting plume of blue smoke emanating from the emerging lava dome, evidence of its' heated source, which is growing many feet each day. It is a stark reminder that the eruption really wasn't that long ago. You note the seismic measuring stations in the crater, evidence that more "events" -- some of them sizeable -- are likely to occur (they did, one just six months later). Then John tells us that small earthquakes are a constant and continuing event here. "You can't feel them but the measuring stations can," he says. Oh, really...? Nonetheless, I'm not too concerned as it would be a major (but possibly deadly!) surprise if something drastic happened, as the geologists seem to have a good handle on recognizing the signs of an impending event early enough to get an evacuation.
After lunch we proceed to the base of the lava dome and inspect the rocks that are forming there. It strikes me that I am holding some of the newest geologic material in the world, literally days old. It is illegal to gather material here, so I am unable to take anything with me. Along the way John has pointed out various types of volcanic rock and the interesting fracturing that has occured in them as they cooled quickly from their molten state. As well, the explosion reveals the geology of the existing mountain formations which have interesting stratifications, and intrusions of material known as "dikes." There is an overall grayness to everything, but many of the rocks have varying hues of red and yellow, which stand out in the drabness. This, combined with the layering and stratification, add an artistic element.
Mount Rainier and Spirit Lake. Johnston Ridge visible at mouth of lake -- note the huge log jams just above and below the mouth. Pyroclastic lava
flows can also be seen at the bottom of the photo.
The interior of the volcano is endlessly fascinating but we are also presented with dramatic views of Mount Rainier, Spirit Lake, and Mount Adams out the mouth of the crater.
It would be great to spend more time here, but the day is pressing on and, reluctantly, we must head down again. John takes us by a different route down another valley. It is dry near the top but part way down we encounter a thermal stream. There is steam rising from the water and soon we start to see evidence of life in it; algae, in various hues and shades: mustard, purple, magenta, lime green. It creates a brightly-hued ribbon, as if someone "colorized" a black and white photo.
A thermal stream with green and yellow algaes present
Between the dust, the steam, and the algae it is simply other-worldly. If all this weren't enough we soon come upon the precipice of an immense waterfall, with a drop of hundreds of feet (500 I recall). We stop for a rest and to stick our tired, aching feet into the water before it disappears over the edge.
Once more we are provided an astounding view of Spirit Lake below us, and Mt. Rainier in the distance. Everyone gapes for awhile and then it is time for a final descent down a steep slope. In due course we arrive back at our vehicles and, before departing, take a last, long look at this incredible piece of geology.
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Hiking:
Yellow Aster Butte
Slide Show
Yellow Aster Butte. An enticing name for a mountain hike, don't you think? I thought so and an adventure I subscribed to immediately when my friend Stan Miller suggested it. He and I had been talking about doing some mountain hiking and this was his proposal: a day trip near Mt. Baker with spectacular views. How could I turn that down? So I signed on for a late August journey.
And then the reality of what I was about to do became a little more apparent; this marvelous 7-mile round-trip hike in the Mt. Baker Wilderness also involved over 24 hundred feet of elevation gain.
Now, in years past that wouldn't have phased me in the least. In my 40s I regularly made day hiking expeditions into the North Cascades and that amount of elevation was at the shy end of what I normally undertook. Frequently it was more like 3 or 4-thousand feet of leg and cardiovascular endurance, but as they say, "no pain, no gain," and the aesthetic rewards were generally outstanding. Thus it was common for me to strike out for a mountain trailhead numerous times in the Summer, after the snow retreated from the upper reaches.
But that was 20 years ago, and for some reason these trips became fewer and farther between as time went on, in spite of yearly resolutions to "do some more hiking." Still, even 20 years ago, I generally started out with something relatively easy, just to break my myself in a little before attacking more demanding trails.
Now I am planted at the 3700-foot Yellow Aster Butte trailhead sign, noting the specifics of the hike and pondering the sobering reality that I am about to undertake a punishing uphill slog that averages 800 feet of gain per mile. This is not unusual for these parts really, but nonetheless do I still have it in me? I haven't done any high altitude hiking of consequence this year, or for that matter, in a number of years.
Even getting to the Yellow Aster trailhead isn't simple. It's over an hour drive from Bellingham, past the small town of Glacier to the Twin Lakes turnoff, a single lane gravel logging road. After several miles of bouncing, rutted, dustiness we arrive at the trailhead, surprised to find a large number of automobiles parked there on this summer Tuesday. It is getting very warm, and as soon as we got out of the car the deer flies move in. Still, the promise of open, high altitude vistas, which this trail provides in large doses, beckons and off we trudge.
I strike off at a pace I used to keep, somewhat ahead of Stan, a mountain climber who is more used to a methodical step. I'm thinking "hey, this isn't too bad; I'm holding my own here." Unfortunately we have not gone more than about a third of a mile and 400 feet of gain when I discover, to my immense dismay, that I have left my lunch in the car. This is steep terrain and I am not happy with the prospect of an instant replay down and up the trail again. Fortunately Stan opines that he has enough for both of us and we head out once again.
At about a mile we level off in a meadow that will be alive with blueberries come September, but we are a little too early. Shortly thereafter we start climbing again and at 1-and-a-quarter miles and about 5100-feet reach a junction. One trail leads to Tomyhoi Lake and the other veers off toward Yellow Aster Butte.
We are now mostly above treeline and the first dazzling views of Mt. Baker and Shuksan begin to appear. As well, the meadowy surroundings are festooned with wildflowers: lupine, bistort, hellebore, monkey flower, paintbrush, buttercups, purple and yellow daisies―asters, if you prefer―prominent among them. It's rapidly spectacularizing (to coin a new word, dude) around us.
Awesome vistas are popping up in every direction: Mount Baker, Mount Shuksan, Goat Mountain, Mount Sefrit, Winchester Mountain, Mount Larrabee, Mount Tomyhoi - well, I could go on and on.
It has been buggy, and it is getting quite hot. Without any break-in my legs feel like cement pillars and the higher altitude is affecting my breathing a little.
But as we start to wend our way around the east and south sides of Yellow Aster a breeze kicks up and the deer flies disperse. We cross a small stream, where the last remnants of some showfields remain. From there I can see directly up to the top of Yellow Aster, and it is a little discouraging; we still have about a thousand feet of elevation to gain in a mile or so. It's clear the "worst is not behind us."
Gads, the scenery is just gorgeous. We have face-on views of the north side of Mt. Baker. There are flowing ridges and tarn lakes everywhere. And the wildflowers. This is a paradise for anyone who wants to do some cross-country hiking, as it is completely open here above treeline.
In due course we arrive at the base of a very steep meadow. There is a trail up it and yes, it leads to the summit of Yellow Aster. A little way back on the trail I had noticed some hikers walking down from the summit and from that angle it looked immensely steep. From this point it doesn't look quite so imposing but still, I'm almost out of gas.
Stan leads the way and, after stopping to take some photographs, I look up to see him literally looming above me. It appears that if he did a swan dive from his position he might just land on top of me, and I comment to that effect. "Let's hope that doesn't happen" he wryly concurs.
This is such a steep stretch that the trail has become severely eroded in some places -- a gully of several feet in depth, though only bare walking distance wide. They need water-barring. It is a shame that these trails, which are so popular, are in neglect because of tax-based financial cutbacks. These are treasures, friend! Treat them as such!
At last we reach the summit, and all the trudging and tromping is clearly worth it. It's a 360-degree aesthetic feast. We will have lunch here, take it all in for awhile and then head down once more. At first we have it to ourselves but soon others join us. Again, it is surprising there are so many people on a mid-week day. Then again, it isn't surprising; this is about as good as it gets for high altitude hiking.
Stan has lunch at the top of Yellow Aster Butte
View from summit (6150 ft.) Trail portion noted below (5100 ft.)
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Touristing:
Seattle
August 15-16, 2010
Slide Show
I have lived in Washington state since 1984 and been to Seattle many, many times...but never as a tourist. Jen and I just celebrated our first wedding anniversary and, with that in the back of our minds, decided to reserve a hotel room and spend a day walking around and seeing the sites.
After some online research through www.kayak.com we found an excellent deal (for Seattle anyway - $137) at the Marqueen Hotel in the Queen Anne neighborhood. This is one of the older hotels (1918) in Seattle, which maintains the period appointments of its time. Each room is really a suite, with full kitchen, updated bathroom w/tub, king or queen beds, oak floors, air conditioning, and recently installed noise-reducing windows. The reviews for the Marqueen were excellent except for some complaints about the noise from nightclubs on Queen Anne Avenue. Clearly the management took note of this with the noise-abatement windows and our room was very quiet. Although there is a slight funkiness to the hotel, the rooms are clean and functional, the lobby (below) attractive, and the staff helpful and friendly.
The sometimes small-world nature of Washington became evident when the desk-attendant revealed he was from Mt. Vernon (near our home in Anacortes) and then, upon further questioning mentioned that he had worked for a automobile salvage company that regularly picked up cars at...Dunton's Body Shop, Jen's brother's business.
After settling in to our room and sharing a bottle of Turnbull Cabernet we walked across the street for dinner at Peso's Kitchen and Lounge, a Mexican restaurant. The food was good, but I found it too noisy for my liking. Maybe it was the wine, maybe the Margarita, maybe the camera, maybe a combination thereof, but do you see two images of Jen in this next photo? I sure did!
At any rate, dusk was falling and we decided to take a walk up to Kerry Park, a name with which I was not familiar -- but certainly was with the many famous photographic images of downtown Seattle taken there.
This requires a steep (think San Francisco), four-block walk up Queen Anne Avenue then a few more blocks down Highland Drive, but the view is worth the effort. Per the reviews I had read, this park is as good as it gets in Seattle. As such, be prepared for lots of folks.
But here's a little tip: don't turn around here. Another few blocks down Highland, passing some beautiful vintage homes, you will come to Marshall Park whose sunset view of Puget Sound and the Olympics rivals that of Kerry Park. This is just a small postage stamp set-aside where Highland switches from west to north, with a few benches and a small grassy area, but it's spectacular, per this photograph (below, right):
We lingered until dark and then found our way down the hillside via some steps and city streets making a loop back to our hotel. An excellent start to our adventure and right up our alley (so to speak) in terms of an enjoyable vacation: good accomodations, food, wine, food, exercise, and beautiful views.
There is a nice coffee shop adjoining the Marqueen where we had coffee and scones the next morning. This was a hot (for Seattle - 96 degrees) pair of days but we still decided to walk from the hotel to Pike Place Market downtown, a fat mile or so. Pike Place Market is, of course, one of the "must see" stops for visitors new to Seattle. That we weren't but we decided to check in on it anyway.
The Market was predicatably busy and our idea was to just walk through the various levels and take in the ambiance though I had done this a number of times before. It is easy to see why it is so popular: lots of hustle and bustle; many and varied vendors; street musicians; period atmosphere; and...
COLOR!
The vegetable, fruit, seafood, and clothing stands -- all combine with neon signery to create a stunning visual smorgasbord.
From the Pike Place Market we headed off for lunch. I had read an interesting article in the Seattle Times about Tutta Bella, a neapolitan-style pizzeria. The article said that Tutta Bella recently took 1st place in Pizza Today magazine's ratings of 33-thousand (!) independent pizzerias. That, coupled with their celebratory offer of a free pizza enticed me to search it out. This took some doing, as I had neglected to get an address, but we finally found the establishment at the corner of Denny and Westlake. It lived up to everything anticipated.
We sat outside at a table overlooking the intersection, and when the waiter arrived Jen wondered if we had to order something else to qualify for the free pizza. "If you give me a smile," the waiter responded, "it won't cost you a thing." To which we promptly responded.
And he was basically right: our bill came to $2.20 -- for a latte' Jen ordered (NOTE: we tipped him graciously, knowing that the cost to him for these cheap meals might be more significant than to the restaurant).
It was delicious. We ordered the "special" of the day, which was truly that: it was not on the menu. Basically it was a thin crust, 11-inch pizza (they are all one size) with olive oil (no tomato sauce), basil, mozzarella, red peppers, oregano, and prosciutto, if memory serves - as good a pizza as I have had (my friend Bob Bertoldi, a specialist in all things Italian, agrees -- at least for America, not Italy).
From Tutta Bella it was time to return to the Marqueen to pick up our car. I was interested in seeing an IMAX movie, "The Wildest Dream: Conquest of Everest" which "tells the story of George Mallory who disappeared while trying to become the first to summit Mt. Everest...and famed climber Conrad Anker who found Mallory's frozen body 75 years later."
IMAX is in the Seattle Center, near the Marqueen, so we found a quiet side-street for the car and headed over to the movie. The movie is generally good, interspersing archival footage of George Mallory and Sandy Irvine's expedition with the 2007 attempt by Conrad Anker and another climber, who utilized the clothing (including hobnail boots) and oxygen apparatus of the original climbers, at least for part of the attempt. There is even footage of the body of Mallory, although I am not entirely certain at this point if it was in fact authentic. At any rate, we enjoyed the movie. Here are two separate photo images I grabbed with my camera off the IMAX wide screen. The first is actual black and white footage of Mallory and Irvine and an unknown third person gazing at Everest prior to the fateful expedition. The second is a modern color image:
It was the middle of rush hour by the time we exited the theater so we decided to have an early dinner at Bahn Thai near the Seattle Center. It is a restaurant we have frequented, partly because we like to sit out on the deck with a glass of wine before dinner. After relaxing there for a few hours, we got on the road headed back to Anacortes.
In the space of a little more than 24 hours we were able to: stay at a vintage hotel, eat some excellent food, visit a couple of parks with lovely views, tour downtown Seattle, watch an excellent movie, and get good exercise, walking about 6 or 7 miles. Not bad for a total expenditure of about $350, and a great way to celebrate our first anniversary - as Seattle tourists!
No tourist presentation would be complete without a personalized image of the Seattle Space Needle. So, here you have go:
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Bicyling:
Guemes Island
July 14, 2010
Steve Marx riding on Guemes Island
Last week it was Samish Island. This week, under beautiful summer skies, my good friend Steve Marx and I jumped on an Anacortes ferry for the short, 5-minute ride across the Guemes ('Guay-mas') Channel to Guemes Island. Our goal was to do a roughly 12-mile circuitous route around the island. Guemes is a rural, laid-back place, with relatively little traffic and thus quite safe to ride. I have biked this route several times myself but it was a first for Steve who, nearing age 60 and the graduate of heart valve replacement surgery a few years back, was a little concerned about the duration and difficulty of the trip.
We were surprised at the number of bicycles on the small ferry, eight all told including ours.
Everytime I have gone before I was the lone bicyclist, but either folks are discovering this excellent little adventure, or it was an anomaly. At any rate as soon as we exited the ferry each bicyclist went their own way and we saw little of them on the island.
We turned east off the ferry and I was surprised to see that they had divided that portion of the two-lane road that parallels much of the south bluff of the island into a car/bicycle route: one lane, one way for cars and the other lane for bicycles only. Later, a friend on the island, Dick Brigham, told me that the erosion of the nearby bluff had necessitated these changes. Apparently the road is going to be re-routed. Nonetheless, this is currently a boon for bicyclists.
After riding near the bluff for a few miles the route swings to the north and the road becomes standard two-way the rest of the ride. It is somewhat course, pebbly asphalt but for the most part the bicycling is easy to moderate, with only about three hills of any consequence. I recommend, however that you do this route counter-clockwise as the other way will result in a longer, more difficult uphill on the west side of Guemes (which is a joy to fly down the other way!). It really doesn't matter that much, though.
We made quick time and soon were on a stretch of road close to the beach, on the northeast side of the island. There were some terrific views across the water to the north (Lummi Island) and northeast (Samish Island; Chuckanut hills; Mt. Baker; Mt Shuksan - image below).
It was time for lunch, so we stopped at the home of Dick and Sally Brigham, friends from Everett. The Brighams are right in the process of building a new home, and although they have not moved in fully, it's shaping up to be quite a nice place (right). 
We hung around there for an hour or so then Dick decided to join us for a portion of the remaining ride. Dick also has undergone major heart surgery in the past year, but he is surprisingly strong given the short recovery time. I joked with him that, given his appearance, they should give everyone bypass surgery, heart disease or not. He moved right along with us, no problem. Steve too, in spite of his concerns, is doing great.
Dick left us after several miles and we headed back to the ferry, arriving just as one was about to leave. Although it is a very short ferry ride, it only goes each way about every hour-and-a-half on a summer weekday, so we were fortunate to hit it right on the money. Steve felt great, all his worries about biking that distance effectively laid to rest.
While on that subject, many folks are surprised at the distances one can cover on a bicycle. A friend said to me, after my recent 15 mile Samish bicycling trip (below), "Are you crazy?" Well, maybe in some ways, but in terms of bicycling I figure that a good biking/waling ratio (on pavement anyway) is about 3:1, dependent on the difficulty of the terrain. The more hills, the lower the ratio. So, I felt as if I had walked the equivalent of 3 to 4 miles on this 12 mile bike expedition. While different muscles are in play to some extent, if you are comfortable with 5 miles of walking, 15-20 miles of biking should not be a problem in most instances. Nothing scientific here, just my own personal sense of the difference/how I respond.
This entire trip, including the stop at the Brighams, took us several hours to do, a bike route one can do pretty easily in an afternoon.
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Bicyling:
Skagit Valley
July 6, 2010
Bicycling is such a wonderful enterprise. There you are, rolling along in the open air at a comfortable pace, breathing in the fresh air and really experiencing the world around you, not just gazing at it from an air-conditioned, glass cage on wheels. Want to stop and take a photo? Easy as pie, no parking space required. Visit with someone working in their yard or simply exchange pleasantries? You may not even need to stop riding for that. Pull over, spur-of-the-moment to have a sandwich or beverage? No long turnaround on the Interstate ramp, nor any need to fill-up before you run out of gas...the only gas expended here is your own (no, not that gas!). And it's good for you! I always return from a bicycle adventure feeling great physically and mentally. I could go on and on with this topic...
It was a lovely day yesterday, actually the beginning of "summer" here in Washington. June can be a bit of a trickster month typically, giving little glimpses of the pleasant days ahead but mostly disappointing you with lots of cool, showery weather. Cross the mountains into eastern Washington and it's already hot and dry (although this year is somewhat of an exception there) but not on this side of the rock pile! So, with the advent of good weather I decided to roll out the bicycle and do some exploring.
Edison to Samish Island
Above is the map and route of the trip (in red) I decided to take. I started in the interesting little town of Edison where I had lunch at Slough Foods. I had hoped to get a sandwich at the Farm to Market Bakery but it was closed on Tuesdays. The Farm to Market Bakery has excellent soups and sandwiches. While the Panini was good (if a little pricey at $9) at Slough Foods I was a little disappointed in their skimpy menu: two Panini options and salad. Still, it was enjoyable sitting outside by a large bed of poppies fronting the slough that forms a backdrop to this town of 133 residents.
Edison is quite the little burg for its size. There are two excellent bakeries (the other, the Breadfarm) as well as two good watering holes, the Edison Inn and Longhorn Saloon, all in the single block that forms "downtown." While not truly an "Inn" the Edison Inn is an excellent place to get a variety of microbrews, some great oysters, and on Sundays, dance music. People come from places as far afield as Vancouver, B.C. and Vancouver, Washington, to dance to live music by such groups as the "Bow Diddlers." If you go expect the place to be packed. The Longhorn features oyster "shooters" and steaks.
After lunch it's time to jump on my 1982 Masi Grand Criterium, which a friend found for me at a junk store. This vintage bike is not quite up to modern specs but still holds its own for the most part, and the price was right! I head south then west on relatively quiet, paved two-lane roads, across the flat expanse of the Skagit Valley. Almost immediately I come upon another slough with a number of boats moored. A pictureque spot, I stop for a photo of a derelict boat.
There is a stiff, northwesterly breeze blowing against me in the first stages of this trek, and at one point, on a straight stretch of road just before I reach the shelter of the island, I am struggling to keep the bike moving at 9 mph. On the return, with the breeze at my back I have an easy pedal at 18 mph.
As I mentioned there is relatively little traffic on this road although several miles of it represent the only access to Samish Island. I see perhaps 2 or three cars per mile, and while there is no bike lane there is plenty of room for cars to navigate past me. I always try to be friendly on my bike, and wave at each car if there are not too many of them. Bicycling just brings that out in you.
Because of the relaxed biking I am able to look around at the passing world, which is made up, in the first stages, of a lot of open farmland abutted to the tidelands of Puget Sound. This is very low-lying land, only a few feet above sea level. Thus, it is somewhat prone to flooding during extensive wet periods, and some of the farms and homes are built up on mounds as a precaution. There are dikes along the sloughs, which function to allow access and egress of the tides.
To the east are the foothills of the North Cascades, with Mount Baker a domineering presence.
Northward are the San Juan Islands. Off to the west and across the water I can see the vague outline of Anacortes and Mt. Erie, at the base of which is my home.
I have come about 4 miles to get to Samish Island, and after a long, somewhat sedentary winter, now fighting the wind, my legs are feeling the effects. But reaching the south end of the island I am now in the lee of the northwesterlies and the riding becomes much easier. I swing up the hill and to the west along the south bank of Samish Island. Immediately the views to the south, east, and west become spectacular, with the added advantage of the small gain in altitude.
In one direction is the expanse of the Skagit Valley (see top photo) and directly to the south and west stirling views of the water and distant Anacortes.
It's a very pleasant stretch of biking and I pause along the way to greet some folks working in their yards.
There is some nice, pricey real estate along this stretch and I note the availability of some "vacation rentals." Of particular interest is the Stone Cottage, which appears to be an excellent place (if you can afford $175/night).
The Stone Cottage
There isn't much in the way of a village on Samish Island, except a short stretch where the most prominent establishment appears to be a church.
After passing that I soon reach the turnaround point where the road ends and private property begins. From there I am able to loop back around to the village area via Marhall and Wharf Streets.
I notice a trail leading down to the beach with the admonition "Trail not Maintained. Due to budget cuts the amenities at this facility have been removed." It is such a shame what is being done in the pursuit of tax cutting. Perhaps we need this in some areas, but the shortage of funds for parks and recreation because of misguided budget measures is a shame in my view. If you want nice things, they don't come free!
At any rate the return trip, with the wind at my back is much faster and easier. To add some variety I take Halloran and Roney Roads as an alternate to Samish Island Road.
Though this route does not provide much in the way of "views," it has the advantage of variety. The ride back to my car is relatively quick and uneventful at a total round trip distance of a fat 15 miles. As a reward for my salutary efforts, I enjoy a Hale's Ale at the Edison Inn, then walked down the street and bought a loaf of "Farmer's Bread" at the Breadfarm before entering the world of the internal combustion engine once again.
Bicyclists near Edison, Washington
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Music:
National Oldtime Fiddler's Contest
Weiser, Idaho
June 18-26, 2010
Slide Show
It's time for our annual trip to the National Oldtime Fiddler's Contest in Weiser, Idaho. As I've said before, I have been making this pilgrimmage every year since 1972, only having missed a few times. In recent years this has started out with an overnight stay at Hilgard State Park, near LaGrande, Oregon. We meet there with friends before making the final two hour drive into Weiser.
This year we decided to add another day onto the trip and stop first at Jen's brother's cabin in Winthrop, Washington. As a last minute decision we left in the evening for the 3-and-a-half hour drive there. This is a beautiful, tourist route via the North Cascades Highway, but since it was night time we saw very few vehicles. But a whole lot of deer! Between Ross Lake and Winthrop one car passed us in the other direction but as our Vanagon climbed toward Washington Pass (5477 feet) another car came racing up behind us and passed us. I commented to Jen that they were driving too fast for the conditions. Sure enough, about 10 miles later we came across the car with its emergency blinkers on. Stopping to inquire if they needed help they said, "No, we hit a deer" and they were apparently trying to comfort it. We drove on and sure enough, a few miles later here they came up on us again. This time they did not pass -- for good reason: on the road coming down from Washington Pass we saw dozens of deer and had to hit the brakes hard a few times. Jen's brother was behind us about an hour and he said he counted over 40 deer in that last 10 mile stretch. For whatever reason the Winthrop valley is filled with deer.
The next day we headed south to meet our friends at Hilgard. We arrived about 6pm. John and Eileen Melnichuk, Al Hutteball, Tim and "Dodo" Johnson, and John Schubert, all musicians and longtime friends, were already there. Al, his wife Lynn, and son Connor recently moved to Australia for a few years (she works for Boeing), but Al couldn't resist coming to Weiser which he has been doing every year since the mid 1960s. We exchanged notes about our trip and everyone commented about how "green" everything looked; it has been a wet spring throughout the northwest and even the drier interior areas of Washington, Oregon, and Idaho have felt the effects. After a dinner around the campfire we pulled out the instruments and jammed for a couple of hours.
In the morning, after a collective breakfast at a truck stop in Baker, Oregon, we all headed into Weiser. The other folks all camp in the main Weiser campground near the high school but we prefer our shady, quieter location at Taylor's, private property across the street from the high school.
Weiser this year appeared to be up in attendance, somewhat of a surprise because of the poor economic conditions. There was even some scuttlebutt that the contest might have financial issues because of corporate sponsorship being withdrawn, but you wouldn't know it by the attendance! In particular we noticed the large number (growing every year) of people camping at "Stickerville," still another campground that was nearly deserted as recently as 10 years ago. Stickerville gets its name because of the thorny "goatheads" that can attach to shoes, clothing, and are the bane of bicycle tires.
For contestants a highlight was the appearance of fiddler Byron Berline as a judge. Berline won the contest 3 times, the last coming in 1970 so it was a homecoming of sorts for him after 40 years. Many view Byron as the best fiddler to have performed at Weiser and he has gone on to have a successful career as a performer and recording artist. I did not get a chance to here any of his informal performances during the week but the reports were good. Rich Levine and Larry Chung had the privilege of backing him up for these shows.
Byron Berline and Larry Chung (Photo: Mike Manetas)
One of the nice things about Weiser, apart from the formal contest, is the wide variety of musical styles found in the campground jamming. Everything from bluegrass to jazz; virtually every acoustic form is represented.
Stickerville Jam (Photo: Bob Orr)
Stickerville emphasizes "oldtime" music -- frailing banjo and fiddle tune-oriented music -- and has grown dramatically as many younger musicians have taken up the style. These are "organic" folks who come early (before the official contest week begins) and leave early. There are lots of tents and Volkswagen campers. This in contrast to the main campground which is almost entirely camping "rigs" and an older crowd. In reality the Sticker-ites have there own little festival going, and few of them actually attend the formal contest, or even leave their campground for anything but supplies.
Bluegrass has also picked up at Weiser in the last 10 years. 
Our group of friends have the main bluegrass jamming area where they camp. There was a time when we struggled to find a three-finger banjo player but this year there were a number of good ones, including Larry Chung (playing guitar (left, w/ John Melnichuk, bass) Rich Jones, and Chuck Holloway. In addition to our friends mentioned above, other excellent bluegrass musicians who joined us included local dairy farmer Ed VanderVoorde, Mike "Spumoni" Manetas, Jeff Westerinen, Ron Emmons, Richie Reinholdt, Lisa Theo, Tom Moran, Tom Schaeffer, and Don Share. I've probably overlooked some!
We also enjoy the camraderie with our friends, who we value highly. Once again we had great visits, meals, etc. with our friends mentioned above; with the Orr Family: Bob, Tim, and Lori Kreuger; a great wine tasting event sported by Joe and Julie Vinikow; Rich Jones and wife Melissa (she is from a classical music family and brought her violinist sister Carolyn and bassist brother Kerry -- they slummed with the proletariat enjoyably by all accounts); Dave and Shelly Johns; Phil and Vivian Williams; (Vivian finished second in the Senior/Seniors division -- congrats!); Pete and Carol Martin; Will and Laura Farr, to name a few. If we talked with you, we enjoyed it!
A sad note for me this year is that a longtime friend I met at Weiser, Sieg Vogt, from Potlatch, Idaho, passed away. In the 1980s I camped with Sieg and his wife Mabel (below. right). Sieg, a retired librarian, developed an extremely rare cancer in an eye which was damaged when he was very young. It took his life June 5th, and we will miss the big German very much. Mabel elected to come to Weiser ("Sieg would want it") so we were able to commiserate about his passing. For more information on this remarkable human being, please see: http://vmalf.blogspot.com/
On our way back home we stopped at Zim's Hotsprings, near New Meadows, Idaho, a standard activity for us (and introduced to me by the Vogts). This swimming pool-style facility won't rate highly with many hotsprings enthusiasts as it is close to a main highway and a bit on the funky side, but we enjoy the opportunity to camp in a lovely area and the cost is right: $20 for two of us overnight with hotsprings access.
We were treated to a beautiful sunset (left) and there was only one other camper there.
After Zim's we headed north on Hwy 95. The drive from New Meadows to White Bird is simply beautiful traversing mixed forests and meadows, rushing mountain rivers, geologically interesting mountains, and relatively little traffic. In Riggins we gazed at the lovely middle fork of the Salmon River (below, right), a popular destination for rafting buffs.
That evening we settled in Ritzville, Washington, an interesting town adjoining Interstate 90. After a week of camping we decided to take a motel before the last push home. Of course there were the standard chain motels and restaurants by the freeway but we avoid these if we can. Downtown has three motels of a much earlier vintage, including the Colwell Motel where we stayed. Some would find this facility a bit on the ragged side, but we discovered it last year and checked-in again. We like older, clean motels and this fits the bill. We took a large room in the back building (#16) which comes with air conditioning, refrigerator, microwave, and jacuzzi tub. The bed even has "Magic Fingers!" Right outside is a pleasant swimming pool which Jen indulged in. At $67, a pretty good deal.
We like Ritzville because of the historic, small town architecture. After barbecuing some pork loins and cooking food in the Vanagon, we took a long walk around this grain industry village. For a photographer there are lots of "photo-ops" and it was a very pleasant way to end the day.
The Top Hat Motel, Ritzville. Washington
After a good rest we turned our sights homeward. Central Washington has a lot of excellent, paved secondary roads which we seek out. Normally we zigzag our way diagonally from southeast Washington (where we enter from Idaho) to Anacortes by means of these "blue highways." From Ritzville we took the Endicott Road to Moses Lake, then over to Quincy and Wenatchee via Hwy 28. There is no need to use I-90 unless you need to barrel across the state (and miss everything interesting along the way). These secondary roads are fast, comfortable, and mostly free of traffic. As we traveled by ourselves virtually free of traffic, we could see the busy-ness of I-90 just a few miles away.
From Wenatchee it was an easy climb over Steven's Pass into a cloudy Western Washington. I must say this was not a welcome sight after the warm, sunny days in Idaho and Eastern Washington. Still it's always nice to get home.
Oh, you say, who were the winners at the annual fiddle contest in Weiser? Please see the following link for results: http://www.fiddlecontest.com/
Also, for other slide shows of past Weisers, tracing to the 1970s, please visit: http://barrybrower.org/photogallery.aspx
Our Vanagon Westphalia near Wenatchee, Washington
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Travel:
Oregon Coast & Redwoods
April 1-6, 2010
Slide Show
There isn't anything to cure the "Winter Blues" quite like a trip down the Oregon and California coasts. Actually I have done this drive, or variations thereof, for many years as I once lived in Arcata, California, on California's very north coast for most of the 1970s. I have a number of close friends there, whom I periodically visit.
It is a 6-700 mile drive from Anacortes to Arcata, but as long as you avoid Interstate 5 as much as possible, it is always a beautiful and changing landscape by whatever route you choose. Generally we work our way south through Seattle on I-5, possibly Portland, then turn west to cross over to the coast. Since the drive is long enough to consume the better part of two days, we generally plan to stay somewhere on the Oregon coast the first night. On this trip our friends John and Deanne Lindstrom invited Jen and me to stay with them at their cabin overlooking the ocean at Lincoln City.
Maresh Vineyard, Dundee Oregon
Heceta Head and Lighthouse, Oregon Coast
So, with that in mind we turned off I-5 at Wilsonville, just south of Portland, and followed some beautiful secondary roads through the Oregon countryside to Lincoln City. Much of this area is wine country, an area that specializes in "Pinot" grapes: Pinot Noir, and Pinot Gris (Grigio). We always look for a different tasting experience and, at Dundee, spotted a side road leading to several wineries. One of these was Erath, of whose wines I had some familiarity. Let's check that out! However, on the way I spotted the colorful red barn of the Maresh vineyard. On a hunch, we amended our plans and pulled in. Good decision!
The Maresh Vineyard is not a winery per se - they have their grapes processed elsewhere - but it is one of the five oldest vineyards in the state. In the late 1960s Jim and Loie Maresh planted 150 acres of cuttings from their neighbor, Dick Erath, who had obtained them from Wente Bros in California: Chardonnay, Pinot Noirs, Pinot Gris, and Sauvignon Blanc. They had been producing fruit on their farm but that all changed permanently. Their wines are only available at the vineyard -- they are not sold in stores.
Inside we met Sam Bauman (photo) and struck up an immediate friendship. 
Sam gave us a little history of the vineyard and of his own life. We sampled several of their products, ranging from $15 to $55, settling on a couple of bottles of tasty Pinot Noir and a bottle of Pinot Gris. I highly recommend you check out this delightful vineyard, which sits on top of a hill with majestic views of the surrounding countryside and vineyards.
By dinnertime we had arrived in Lincoln City, somewhat ahead of the Lindstroms who were heading up the Oregon coast to meet us after an extended vacation of their own to California. A storm was coming in so we warmed up the cabin and watched the waves starting to pound on the beach below while we waited.
The Lindstrom family cabin was built in 1936 when Deanne's great aunt Clara Dean moved from the east at age 60. There she painted and wove until her death at 97. The cabin sits on top of a bluff (right) overlooking the Pacific. We consumed one of the Maresh bottles, then went for dinner at McMenamin's, a northwest chain that offers pub fare and microbrews.
Overnight the wind really kicked up and the rain pounded the cabin. When we got up we were confronted with the fact that we were facing a coastal drive of nearly 300 miles and a weather report predicting rain and winds of 60 to 70 miles per hour! Still, predicting weather on the west coast is chancy fare, and 10 miles south of Lincoln City we hit sunshine. From there to Arcata it was typical Spring weather: sunshine and spectacular ocean views interspersed with gusty, stormy weather.
Later that day we arrived in McKinleyville, just north of Arcata, at the home of our friends Mike ("Spumoni") and Susan Manetas. Spu and I have been friends since the early 1970s when we played in a local bluegrass band, "Fickle Hill." Spu was my "best man" at our August wedding and had promised to treat us to a couple of nights at a local Bed & Breakfast as a wedding present, a very generous gift which we were not about to pass up. But first, we were to stay in a little cabin on their property (below) for a few nights.
While we were staying there, we played some informal music, looked at some lovely new pottery that Susan unveiled from her kiln. We went out one night to "Arts Alive" a monthly arts walk in oldtown Eureka where artists display their wares in different venues. There is music, too, and one of the groups playing that evening included some longtime friends of mine: Brooks Otis, and Ken and Maria Jorgenson (below).
We were joined that evening by some more friends, Bob Schulze and Sonja Huff, who live in Eureka. We had a terrific Japanese meal in Eureka, then prowled about various venues, all of which were crowded on this cool April night.
After a few evenings with Spu and Susan, it was time to move a few miles north to the Bed and Breakfast, the "Lost Whale Inn", outside of the quaint little village of Trinidad.
This is a spectacular setting, with the bungalow home fronting the Pacific just south of Patrick's Point State Park, off Hwy 101. Spu and Susan had arranged for us to have the premier room, the "Sea Lion room," in which the bed is placed up against the front window so as to provide a panoramic view of the ocean.
Our hosts, Gary and Guia (below,left), originally got involved with the establishment when they were asked to fill in as caretakers while the property went through escrow. After doing this for awhile they concluded they should just purchase the 9 acre property and run it themselves. We were very pleased with our "digs" and the breakfast served each morning was nothing short of fabulous: frittata, homestyle potatoes, french toast, bacon, sausage, fresh fruit, cobbler, all cooked expertly.
There are stunning views of the coast line, in this area of California still pretty wild. Directly off the shoreline is a large rock where sea lions bask in the sun. Their barking provided a pleasant overlap of sound to the crashing of the ocean waves.
On the last night of our stay we called a few friends for a jam session at the Lost Whale. Though most of the other guests were out and about we managed to have a good time reprising some old Fickle Hill standards, and thus the banjo bothered no one <g>...
A particularly fun night occured when Spu and Susan, and Brooks and Carolyn Otis got together for dinner at the Moonstone Grill, a few miles south of the Lost Whale. This establishment also fronts the ocean beach and the views there are equally spectacular, as was the food.
At the Moonstone Grill. L-R: Susan, Carolyn, Brooks, Mike, Barry
(Photo by Jen)
What a fabulous meal, and you can't beat the atmosphere!
The weather continued its schizophrenic ways, alternating between sunshine and rain, with even a little snow and hail mixed in at one point. At the tail end of one of these storm cells, Mike and Susan, Bob and Sonja, and the two of us decided to go for a walk around Trinidad Head, a large rocky headlands that shelters the town of Trinidad (below). 
This is only about a half mile walk, but gives panoramic views of the north and south coast lines, the town, and the inland geography.
On the first half of the hike we carried umbrellas and then the sun came out. The group marched on, but I got sidetracked taking photos, such as of the view north here:
Of course, no trip to Humboldt County is complete without a visit to the Redwoods. The tallest Redwoods in the world are located here, after all. In 1979 I worked as a Ranger for Redwood National Park. My job was to patrol the Tall Trees Grove on Redwood Creek, where the then tallest known tree was located (it has since been surpassed by several others, one of which is located not far away) and provide naturalist interpretation for visitors.
To do this I camped out by the grove much of that summer. What a job! I alternated my days at the grove with Tom Marquette. After we finished our job that summer Tom and I worked with John Pitlick and Mary Ann Madej doing geological stream surveys on Redwood Creek as part of the Park Service effort to rehabilitate closely located logged lands that were eroding and putting a choking amount of siltation into Redwood Creek. This siltation was affecting salmon and steelhead runs, as well as the tall trees along the banks. Tom still works at the Orick office, as the restoration effort continues.
We asked several people for suggestions of a hike, and decided on the "Trillium Trail," a 3-mile hike through old growth redwood which I had never taken. Of course there were spectacular trees on this trail, located within a stone's throw of Hwy 101.
It was a surprise to me that these groves of ancient redwoods, some over a thousand years in age, were un-logged, given their easy access from 101, but I wasn't going to argue! Much of the vegetation was just beginning to blossom out at this time of year; a very fresh and vibrant forest in the Spring. Trillium Falls was sweet, if not spectacular in size and I even found a hollow Redwood to stand in. 
After the walk we had lunch with Tom at a Mexican restaurant in Orick. This town, at the mouth of Redwood Creek, has been a logging town since its inception, and was the locus of much of the anti-Redwood Park establishment and subesequent expansion. Now there is a very large Park facility in town, and a visitor center outside the village limits.
I asked Tom what the attitude of residents was now regarding the Park. He indicated that much of the resentment had abated, though the town has had a definite downturn in logging activity.
Meanwhile, three decades later, Tom's office continues its efforts to help stabilize the erosion problems from extensive clear-cutting in the 1960s and early 70s. When I worked at the Tall Trees Grove the closest vehicle access was by means of a logging road through a massive clearcut just above the Tall Trees grove. Park scientists used various approaches to stem the erosion, including a European technique known as "willow wattling" (fast growing willow is sewed into the ground to stablize the soil), logging road removal (logging roads can divert stream runoff and create unnatural, erosive channels), culverts, and other methods. The barren area we used to drive through on the way to the Tall Trees is now full of second growth. As well, Tom says much of the siltation in the stream is gone, allowing for the return of fish populations and improved rooting conditions for Redwoods on the banks.
The next day it was time to head north again, and we decided to retrace our route on the Oregon coast. That evening we stopped in Yachats ("YAH-Hots") after some spectacular scenery along the way, including Heceta Head and lighthouse (photo above). We're not hoity-toits about where we stay, preferring down-home, mom and pop style motels: funky, but with class (and lower cost!). In Yachats we found the Yachats Inn, a 1940s or 50s motel of cement block and shake shingling. Most of the rooms are standard motel fare, except one wing fronts directly on the ocean at off-season rates of about $65. These were fine but we decided (for a $100) to select a wood-paneled suite, complete with full kitchen, living room, fireplace, and king bed. There is also a swimming pool and hot tub available. Couple this with a panoramic ocean view just feet away, well that's our speed!
Our "suite" and view at the Yachats Inn 
There was a particularly heavy swell on the ocean. Surfer-type waves were coming in, some of which I estimated at 8-10 feet. We were very content to sit and watch this natural wide screen entertainment from our comfortable enclosure.
We enjoyed one of Jen's terrific dinners, this time an old favorite for these last-night-of-the trip occasions: filet mignon, baked potato, and salad. We topped this off with a glass of the Maresh wine we had bought, but were particularly happy to indulge in a bottle of champagne, graciously presented to us as a wedding present by Bob and Sonja along with some beautiful, complimentary stemware.
So it is that, in return, we toast our good friends Spu, Susan, Bob, Sonja, Brooks, Carolyn, John, Deanne for helping to make this trip simply spectacular, as well as the interesting folks we met along the way, and (last, but not least) you for indulging my writing!
Please click on the Slide Show link for complete trip photos.
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Bicycling:
Vancouver
January 21-23, 2010
Slide Show
You wouldn't think it would be too smart an idea to schedule a biking trip to Vancouver, B.C. in late January, the dead of Winter. And you'd probably think it even less wise to use Amtrak to get you there, thereby not having a car if the weather is bad. After all, late January is the 6-month rotation of late July, generally the warmest time of the year, so what does that normally add up to? Well, in this case, three days of uncharacteristic 50 degree temperatures and mostly sunny skies! Thank God for El Nino and global warming! Actually this is the third Winter venture of this type we have done with our friends, John and Deanne Lindstrom. We have had only one rainout to report throughout all of these adventures, when we were caught late in the afternoon in a downpour and had to retreat to our hotel by bus. No biggie, actually.
In truth it is an easy thing to do from our respective residences in Anacortes and Everett. We drove our car to Mt. Vernon to pick up Amtrak, and John and Deanne are able to bike to the Everett Station. And how much did this cost us to make the two-and-a-half hour roundtrip to Vancouver? $27/person! I'm not sure I could have spent less on gas alone! And no driving! As well, Amtrak conveniently provides bicycle racks on their Talgo trains (no boxing of bike) from Seattle to Vancouver, so we simply donned light backpacks (I brought a change of clothes and a few other items in a daypack) for our luggage, parked our car within feet of the boarding platform, relinquished our bikes to a porter, and jumped onboard! Simple, and much easier to deal with than any airport terminal.
The beauty of this arrangement is in the scheduling and location of Vancouver's Pacific Central Station. The Vancouver-bound train arrived at 11:30am (on-time) and the return trip left at 5:45pm, also on-time so it is possible to have pretty much three full days of bicycling. As well, the Pacific Central station is located just two blocks away from the extensive walking/bicycling pathway that circumnavigates most of downtown Vancouver, including Stanley Park. In fact, it is possible to completely bike around the downtown peninsula -- about 10 miles -- with a minimum of a dedicated city-street bike lane, and most of it off-limits to autos.
The Sylvia Hotel
From the train station we migrated to the biking path near Expo 86 and from there about 4 miles to our accomodations at the Sylvia Hotel, a quaint 8-story facility built in 1912, near Stanley Park and facing English Bay. I have been staying in this English-mannered, economical, friendly, laid-back establishment since the 1970s. The Sylvia welcomes bicyclists (the desk clerk bikes to work every day from his home nearly an hour away) and allows you to store your bikes in a locked back room. We elected to take a suite with two bedrooms, two baths, and a kitchen. This cost the four of us the off-season rate of $245 (Canadian) each night -- cheap by Vancouver standards. There is a pub and restaurant with decent food and atmosphere. We unpacked, settled in, and then immediately left for a bike ride around Stanley Park, about 8 miles, with the remaining afternoon light.
The next morning Deanne was not feeling well so Jen, John, and I headed out for a morning ride,a sunny comfortable day. We swung around to the north shore and biked to Canada Place, where the bike trail ends. At that point we elected to cross town on Burrard Street, one of the busiest in the downtown area. But the forward-thinking city planners have included a generous, dedicated bike lane and we were able to comfortably ride the 1.5 mile distance to the Burrard Street Bridge, which leads over to Kitsilano.
Burrard Street Bridge. Note dedicated bikeway, rescued from street! 
After poking around at a park below the bridge, we headed back to see how Deanne was doing. She was feeling better, and we packed a lunch and headed off again. This time we again headed over the Burrard Bridge and dropped down into Granville Island. There is a wonderful public market there, with busking musicians and a whole lot of ambiance. 
All the time we were amazed at the number of people bicycling, walking, and skating the extensive, interconnected walkways, as wide as 20 feet in some places. We passed _many_ thousands of people in the days we were there, and it is clear that Vancouver is some distance ahead of other West Coast cities, particularly Seattle, in providing a pedestrian/bicycle friendly environment. The downtown has been set up primarily for business AND residence (many high rise apartments and condos, and John noted that they are separated enough to allow sunlight to get through), and it is clearly easy to get around without an automobile. For the most part we found citizens very courteous, alert, and accomodating to bicyclists. The only negative we dealt with is that the Olympics are about to begin and some of the pathways have been shut down temporarily for construction and security purposes. This necessitated some detouring, but nothing of any real consequence. After a brief stop at a bakery, we headed out again and rode around False Creek and again joined the walkway from Expo 86 to the Sylvia.
In the evening we were joined for dinner by two friends of mine from my days in Bella Coola -- Roy Schubert and Yvonne Wai -- and their significant-others for dinner at the Sylvia. Roy and I played music in Bella Coola as the "Hills Brothers" when I lived there from 1980-84. Both Roy and Yvonne now live in Surrey and Burnaby respectively.
The next day, our last, we decided to revisit the University of British Columbia, about 8 miles away. To do this one again crosses the Burrard Bridge and then follows the peninsula on the south side of English Bay westward along the waterfront. This affords marvelous views back at Vancouver, and of Howe Sound. At one point we noticed one of the ubiquitous Aqua Buses that ferry people back and forth from downtown Vancouver to Granville Island and other places. It was just leaving and, wondering whether it might afford a means to cross the water with our bikes, we yelled at the operator. "This one doesn't take bikes, you'll have to go and pick one up at Granville Island" he allowed. "The owner thinks bikes are for Communists." I guess the owner would prefer more automobiles, more pollution, more CO2 discharge, more crowding of the highways, etc. You have to wonder what some people are thinking...or not.
The UBC Library
The route to UBC follows trails most of the way, through a series of parks, with some residential street riding. Even here, some of the residential streets are designated bike pathways, and roundabouts and barriers discourage automobile traffic in some places, or funnel them elsewhere. At UBC, John wanted to see the Forestry Building where some beautiful totem poles and other artifacts reside. I checked out the beautiful library, whose director is a former colleage. After that we headed back through Kitisilano, mostly on shared street/bike ways.
After returning to the Sylvia it was time to pack up (about 5 minutes to do this) and head out for the train station. We arrived there about 45 minutes early and went through security. They wanted everything off the bikes so it was a little tedious but not too stressful. Back on the train we left in the dark and arrived 2 and a half hours later in Mt. Vernon. I can't say enough about how much fun this was, and how lucky we were to get nearly perfect weather for this time of year. 'Nary a drop of water on us the whole time and we covered 49 miles!
At Siwash Rock, Stanley Park
