MIDWEEK MOUNTAIN BIKE MEANDER

Here are a couple shots from yesterday's three-hour mountain bike ride, a spur-of-the-moment meander that took me up the Hemlock Trail to Cedar Lake (of Pine and Cedar Lakes fame) and the top of the Burninator. Below, the Cedar Lake shoreline. My impression from the ride, on which just about every trail was covered with fallen leaves, is that summer is pretty much over. Sad. Happens every year. I should be used to it by now.

THE LARCH THEY ARE A-CHANGIN' AND OTHER METHOW MEANDERINGS

So here's the current state of the alpine larch as of this morning at Washington Pass. Quite beautiful with splashes of gold at the foot of Liberty Bell.

I got in a couple book-research rides over the past couple days near Winthrop. This is near the end of Falls Creek Road, just above Westside Chewuch Road where it becomes Forest Road 51. It's part of a three-forest road-climb route known to locals as the Triple Bypass. The above climbed to just a hair under 5,000 with a couple steep pitches of around 12 percent. As I found out last week at Lion Rock near Ellensburg (see a couple posts below), something great about these paved forest roads is that this time of year, there's no one else on them; you basically have the road to yourself.

Here're a couple riders I met heading out FR 51. I don't remember their names but one is a zoomba instructor, the other a pilates instructor. Nice folks.

Eastside Chewuch Road in the morning. Oh, but I do love da' Methow!

AUTUMN LARCH IN THE ENCHANTMENTS

Here's a story I wrote a couple years ago for The Seattle Times that I thought might be timely. It's about Eastern Washington hiking trails where you can see the alpine larch turn to gold as they're wont to do this time of year.

Please enjoy!

Autumn Larch in the Cascades

By Mike McQuaide

In my lifetime, I’ve seen Bruce Springsteen in concert something like 17 times but never in his purest, most unadulterated form. That is, some crummy roadhouse down at the Jersey Shore where on a whim he jumps up on stage and belts out a few tunes with the house band. Similarly, I’d seen the great golden displays of alpine larch in autumn but most often through the windows of a car; I’d never experienced them where they’re at their finest: the Enchantments.

That changed last fall when fellow larch seeker Jim Robbins and I headed east toward Leavenworth for a hike up mega-steep Aasgard Pass. It’s the gateway to the Enchantments, that Alpine Lakes Wilderness wonderland of high-mountain lakes that shimmer jewel-like against jagged granite spires and stands of—for a few weeks each fall—blazing alpine larch. During our mid-October hike, we found what we were looking for: gold in them thar hills.

Larch are unusual in that though they are conifers, they have deciduous tendencies. That is, their needles act like leaves. In autumn, usually sometime in October, the needles change from green to yellow before falling to the ground, usually blown down by late October’s stormy gusts. It’s an autumn display that’s out of this world but one with a rapidly closing window of observation.

“The larch always change on October 10,” says Joyce Brown somewhat tongue-in-cheek. Brown works at the North Cascades National Park information desk in Sedro-Woolley. “We have a longtime hiker who comes in here who says he can set his calendar by it—without fail, the larch always turn yellow on October 10.”

In general, the larch seem to turn at about the same time the first significant snows begin to fall in the mountains. Which is right around October 10.

“Hiking during this time is more peaceful and introspective,” says Andrew Engelson, avid hiker and editor of Washington Trails magazine. “The weather is colder, there are fewer hikers, and the intense yellow glow of the larch is just so striking.”

But you need to head for the hills to see them, as well as put some time in behind the wheel. Almost all the color-changing larch live on the eastern slopes of the Cascades at 5,000 feet and above. That means places such as Highway 20 over Rainy and Washington Pass way near Liberty Bell, or Highway 97 near Blewett Pass.

But perhaps the best way to truly experience them is to hike among them. Certainly, there are easier larch hikes the one that Jim and I chose. The Blue Lake Trail for instance, about 30 miles west of Winthrop, is a little more than two miles (one-way) and climbs only a thousand feet and is a grand spot to capture the color of golden larch.

But to us the allure of the Enchantments was too much. So what if our 13-mile day hike from the Colchuck Lake side required 4,500 feet of climbing, about half that on the ascent of Aasgard Pass, which climbs 2,200 feet in about a mile; we had the fever. Enchantment larch fever, and nothing was going to stop us. Not even icy boulders, big slippery icy boulders, the size of Mini Coopers. (More on those in a moment.)

***

Because the mid-October sun has a 6:15 p.m. bedtime and Jim and I had a three-hour drive to get to the trailhead, we made an early start of it, leaving Bellingham at 5 a.m. By 8:30, we were hiking the Colchuck Lake-Lake Stuart Trail in the semi-darkness of mega shadows cast by the rocky walls of Mountaineer Creek canyon.

In our packs we carried ice axes and big heavy mountaineering boots because we knew that we weren’t hiking just to a place—the Enchantments—we were also hiking to a season: winter. Down in the valley, it was a crisp pleasant morning, but Aasgard Pass tops out at 7,800 feet. We were barely three weeks into autumn, but online trip reports I’d come across reported several feet of snow up on the pass.

At Colchuck Lake, mirror calm this windless morning, we found ourselves in larch land—wuhoo!—but most of the ones on this side of the lake hadn’t yet turned yellow. (Boo hoo.) No matter. The other side of the lake at the foot of Aasgard Pass had plenty of gold and that’s right where we were headed. The pass itself was tri-colored: gray rocks overlain with the white of new snow, all of it streaked with gold. Our larch fever at its peak, we rushed to get around the lake and up the pass.

We almost didn’t make it.

“It’s awfully icy up there,” we started hearing again and again from backpackers we came across who’d just made their way down Aasgard from the Enchantments.

“It took us two-and-a-half hours to get down,” one of them told us.

Two-and-a-half-hours to get down? How long would it take is to get up—four hours? It was already almost 11 a.m. This was not looking good.

Around the south end of the lake, the trail enters a boulder field which further added to our discouragement. And not just because clambering up and over mini-car sized rocks is always slow going either. These, this chilly morning—chillier the higher we climbed—were covered by an oh-so-thin, invisible-to-eye sheen of ice. It might as well have been Vaseline for how slippery it was. Six hours on the pass might be making good time.

At least we were smack dab in larchville. Golden splendor was all around us. Some appeared to glow fluorescent neon. Others looked aflame when the autumn-angled sun hit them.

“Awesome,” said Jim, speaking for both of us.

Turns out, our slow-going worked in our favor.  As the sun rose higher, the icy sheen melted and climbing rock- and boulder-choked Aasgard Pass went much faster than we could’ve hoped. The only thing slowing us down were the 360-degree pirouettes we’d do from time to time to take in our surroundings. We were now in snow and as we passed through stand upon stand of larch, we couldn’t help but be dazzled. Far below, the massive shadow of the Enchantment Peaks receded across the surface of Colchuck Lake like an eclipse.

Two hours after heading up, we reached the top of Aasgard Pass and, for all intents and purposes, mid-winter. Two feet of snow covered the ground and before Jim and I downed a quick lunch, we hunted down a sizable boulder to block the biting wind.

All around us was that classic Enchantments landscape that adorns dozens of coffee table books.  A wind-swept, rocky moonscape—today clad in snow—and dotted with dozens of tarns, lakes and ponds. Many of them frozen over and almost all of them fringed with gold. The larch.

Thing is, we had to get down. And quick.

It was almost 2 p.m. We figured a couple hours to descend Aasgard, an hour around the lake, then two more back to the car. That’s 7 p.m. The sun will have gone night-night by then.

Lucky for us, our Aasgard descent took only 90 minutes. And with all the boulder field ice melted we made good time, even getting back to the car before the sun turned out its light at 6:15.

Finally, I could cross Autumn Larch in the Enchantments off my ticklist.

Now, I just have to head to the Jersey Shore and hang around until the Boss shows up.

Mike McQuaide is a Bellingham freelance writer and author of "Day Hike! Central Cascades" and "Day Hike! North Cascades" (Sasquatch Books).

***

The following are trails that lead to autumn larch wonderlands. (All distances are roundtrip.):

·         Lake Ann-Maple Pass—Trailhead is off Highway 20 just past milepost 157, about 5 miles west of Washington Pass.  Distance: 3.6 to the lake; 7.2 for both. Elevation gain: 675 feet; 2,150 feet.

·         Blue Lake—Just off Highway 20 at milepost 161, less than a mile west of Washington Pass. (About 30 miles west of Winthrop.) Distance: 4.4 miles. Elevation gain: 1,000 feet.

·         Cutthroat Pass—Off Highway 20 at milepost 167, about 5 miles past Washington Pass. Distance: 11 miles. Elevation gain: 2,500 feet.

·         Colchuck Lake-Lake Stuart-The Enchantments—Just before entering Leavenworth from Highway 2, turn right on Icicle Road. Follow for 8.5 miles to Forest Road 7601. Turn left and follow for 3.7 miles to the road-end parking lot. Distance: 8.2 miles for Colchuck Lake; 9 for Lake Stuart; 13 for the Enchantments (top of Aasgard Pass). Elevation gain: 2,500 feet; 1,800; 4,500 feet.   

·         Carne mountain—Follow Highway 2 east to Coles Corner, about 20 miles east of Stevens Pass. Turn left on Lake Wenatchee Road 207 and follow for 4 miles to Chiwawa River Loop (Road 22) for 1.5 miles. Turn left onto Chiwawa River Road (Road 62) and follow for 22 miles. Turn right on Phelps Creek Road (6211) and follow 2 miles to the road-end parking area. Distance: 7 miles. Elevation gain 3,000 feet.

·         Ingalls Lake—Follow I-90 to Exit 85, about 33 miles east of Snoqualmie Pass. Head east on Highway 970 and follow for 6.6 miles to Teanaway Road. Turn left and follow for 23 miles to the road-end trailhead following signs for Esmeralda Basin. Distance: 11 miles. Elevation gain: 2,600 feet.

If you’d rather not hike, here are some scenic roads that offer up-close views of larch in their autumn finery:

·         Highway 20 near Rainy Pass east to Washington Pass and Liberty Bell, starting at about milepost 160. (This is 40 miles east of Newhalem; about 30 miles west of Winthrop.) The larch-fringed view of the Liberty Bell massif is a Northwest classic.

·         Blewett Pass on Highway 97. Follow I-90 east to exit 85. Follow Highway 970, which merges into 97 for about 25 miles to Blewett Pass.

·         In addition, Icicle Road, the approach road to the above-mention Colchuck-Stuart-Enchantment hike, offers larch-viewing at its higher reaches to the west.

AREA MAN TAMES LION ROCK CLIMB NEAR ELLENSBURG

Ever since my Seattle Times story of a month ago when I featured five killer climbs of Washington State, I've been itching to head down Ellensburg way to try out something called Lion Rock, also referred to as Table Mountain. A couple readers (Justin Yeager and Christopher Fast) had alerted me to it. Well, my itch has been scratched as yesterday I climbed the beastie. It's an amazing climb, the toughest section: a 6-mile stretch that climbs 2,600 feet. Closest thing I've ridden is McNeil Canyon near Chelan, which climbs 2,200 feet in 5 miles.

 

Several things make this a unique and worthwhile climb. First, it's in the middle of nowhere, about 12 miles north of Ellensburg in Wenatchee National Forest and though it's a mostly paved road (more on that in a sec), it doesn't really lead anywhere so during my ride, I came across one bicyclist, two motorcycles and two cars. Interestingly, though paved, it's only one lane. So you feel like you're riding some of those crazy skinny mountain roads featured in the Giro. And given the forested mountain setting, it has somewhat of a mountain biking feel to it too.

Second, the wind. Not sure if I was riding on a particularly breezy day--the dozens of wind farm turbine towers on the exposed hills and fields all around Ellensburg would suggest it's typical (none of which, by the way, were turning)--but I was treated to a constant 20- to 30-mile-per-hour northwest wind. Once I started climbing up the mountain and was somewhat protected by the folds of the forested hillside, it wasn't so bad. In fact, on some of the short little east-west switchbacks, I definitely felt the wind was aiding me when it was at my back. Heading west, I was in my tiniest 34-27; head east, I could shift down one, two, sometimes even three gears.

Third, the views are truly amazing. You don't top out at a viewpoint per se, but the views back south toward Kittitas Valley are pretty breathtaking.

After the aforementioned 6-mile stretch--it's just under a 9-mile climb altogether--the road sort of flattens out for about 1.5 miles before becoming a gravel road, as depicted in the two photos just above. (Really it doesn't flatten out, but the 2- and 3-percent grade feels flat by that point.) I wasn't going to chance the sleek, elegant Tarmac Pro on that surface especially since there seemed to be a chance of some rain coming in.  

View back down toward Kittitas Valley from the road to Lion Rock.

So, a shout-out of thanks to Justin and Christopher for turning me on to this killer climb.   

And, speaking of Seattle Times' stories, here's one I have in today's paper on the really cool hike to the Old Monte Cristo Townsite. Please enjoy!

ORCAS ISLAND ROAD RIDING

Hopped on the ferry yesterday for some painfully beautiful riding on this jewel of the San Juans. Above, is the well-known shot from the top of Mount Constitution; Bellingham there in the far corner. At 2,409 feet, Constitution is the highest point in the San Juans. She's a bear of a climb to get to the top, that's for sure. The toughest part of the 5.5-mile climb from Cascade Lake to the top being a two-and-a-quarter mile stretch that climbs 1,174 feet. That's 10 percent to you and me, folks. (Click here for my post about the Mount Constitution Hill Climb bike race from a couple years ago. Here's the race website; sometimes it's an annual event, sometimes not.)

Thing is, I'm not sure Mount Constitution is the most challenging thing about riding on Orcas.

Orcas Island and Mt. Constitution as seen from the ferry.

Orcas is a lumpy island so you're either always climbing some short crazy-steep pitch or descending the same. Not a flat spot on the island, he wrote a tad hyperbolically. I rode exactly 50 miles--ferry landing to Eastsound (via about four miles of gravel road on Dolphin Bay Road; felt like I was in the Giro D'Italia), up and down Mount Constitution, to Olga and Doe Bay, then turned around back to Eastsound and eventually the ferry landing--and climbed 5,800 feet. Take away Mount Constitution and it still would've been 4,000 feet of ups.

All that said, Orcas is a beautiful island to ride. Not a lot of cars, certainly a lot of variety, and of course just that cool island-hippy-organic-affluent-artistic-nice stuff vibe. Beautiful farms, llama lands, cool weird sculptures, Doe Bay funkiness, and all those spectacular island vistas. It's an incredible one-stop biking spot because it's also one of my favorite places to mountain bike. See here for a Seattle Times story I wrote that includes a bit about Orcas' fat-tire side.

Coming up: most likely, this Saturday's Tour de Whidbey century ride. Weather looks promising. Hope to see ya' there!