The Merriam-Webster Dictionary defines...

The word "Enchantment" this way: "a feeling of being attracted by something interesting, pretty, etc."

This sums up the quest of my retirement. 

So it's no wonder why I pursued a Wilderness Permit to take a look-see into Enchantment Basin. 

The Basin is on the Bucket List of too many Wilderness Wanderers like myself. Scoring a permit is equivalent to winning both the Powerball and Megamillion lotteries within a week. In other words, highly unlikely. I tossed my name and money into the drawing and waited. I was rejected nine times. (About the same odds I'm having with women.) 

My last resort was to arrive in person for a walk-up permit. The Forest Service website information wasn't encouraging. "About 50 people show up daily for a few spots." Between the lines, I could almost hear a snicker. 

What the heck!  I was in the neighborhood of cheesy (faux Bavarian-themed) Leavenworth, WA. I would fit this stopover into my BUSY schedule. 

There were only three others hoping to "get lucky." The low turnout might have been the weather forecast of an 80% chance of precipitation. Who in their right mind wants to go up a mountain and get wet? Me. That's who. 

My name was called! I hadn't even packed. I went into hyperdrive. I threw food, gear and a rain suit into my backpack and headed uphill for 3,600' in 6 miles. Thank you Starbucks Coffee for the caffeine aided energy boost. 

By the time I arrived at Nada Lake, the 80% chance of rain became 100%. I set up my tent and threw me and my gear into it. The rain continued for four hours. I decided to stand down and see what tomorrow would bring. 

I peeked out at first light, and saw benign skies. Two Starbucks coffee shots and two Clif Bars later, I was on my way. 

I'm going to digress here. 

With all the the Hullabaloo about E.B, I reckoned it would be an easy stroll. Most folks don't have challenging items on their To-Do list. OY! Was I wrong. From Snow Lake, the trail ascended 2,000' in two miles. During the in-your-face climb, the trail crossed rockslides, creeks, mud holes, granite ledges and slick tree roots. This was no Sunday mosey in Central Park. BTW: this turned out to be the easy access. The hard way was a scratched out route consisting of 2,600' of straight up in one mile. Ouch. 

Now here's my second wrong assumption about Enchantment Basin. With a poetic name like this, I envisioned Julie Andrews pirouetting in a field of wildflowers. Of course, she would be belting out "The Hills are Alive with the Sound of Music!" 

There were no wildflowers. There was nothing for them to grow on. It was all glacier scoured granite. The few tablespoons of soil were occupied by runty tamarisks/larch trees. They weren't about to share their precious substrate with some low life flowers. 

It was all very wild. It was also raw beauty. 

See for yourself.

I'll keep wandering. There is just too much to see. I'm getting frustrated by that thought. 

Cheers from the White River campground in Mount Rainier National Park,

Jeff

Waterfalls are Standard Issue

Waterfalls are Standard Issue...

in North Cascades National Park. 

There are plenty of Nature's other spectacles as well. This is a remote landmass where bipeds are and always will be a guest. 

The reason? The topography is too steep and inaccessible. The mountains rise anywhere from 4,000'-6,000' above the valley floors. The slopes are in free fall. There's nothing gentle about the place. The word rugged doesn't explain the situation.

The park boasts 312 or so glaciers. (Of course, they are mostly receding). A third of all the glaciers in the Lower 48 live within this half-million acre Park. There's about 300 lakes too. That melting ice has to go somewhere.

There are few roads penetrating the vast interior. Washington State Highway 20 (AKA the North Cascades Highway) wasn't punched through until 1964. Most of the trails take the path of least resistance and follow the many waterways. There's  a lot of territory that's never been squished down by a hiker's boot. 

Dense old growth forests were spared the plight of the Paul Bunyan crowd due to these intimidating features. There's easier game to cut and mill. Miners tried their luck with limited success. They too gave up, but left a few reminders of their earth moving ways. 

93% of the North Cascade Complex is designated wilderness. Now the Park attracts Seattle city slickers, climbers and folks like me. There's plenty of sightseers too, who only venture a few feet from the comfort of their Winnebago campers or sedans. 

On the trails, climbers strut by burdened down with ice axes, rope and other tools to challenge rock and glacier. Families amble by too. On a sun-kissed day, it's a happy place. 

Come by and see for yourself.

If you haven't figured it out yet, me and Barley the Van are on a great roll.

Cheers from Cle Elum's Whispering Pines RV Park. (Most of the trees are Douglas Fir)

Jeff

PS. Bring bug spray instead of bear spray. It's the Great North-Wet and it's buggy.

"Invalids Need Not Apply"

This very un-PC statement (almost Trump-like) was part of the Help Wanted ad the U.S. Forest Service posted in their infant days as a Federal Land Baron. (The USFS was established in 1905). The notice went on for its requirements for perspective Forest Rangers. A Ranger must be able to: "built trails and cabins; ride all day and all night; pack, shoot, and fight fire without losing his head." 

What! No mention of creating a frothy cappuccino? 

As you can see, the USFS was asking a lot of mere mortals. In 1908, the Coeur d'Alene National Forest hired Edward C. Pulaski. The fledgling organization then scored all they had asked for and a whole lot more. Ranger Pulaski was the right man at the right time in "The Big Blowup" or AKA "The Big Burn" of 1910. 

In the summer of 1910, the Forests of northeast Washington, the Pan Handle of Idaho and western Montana were "snap, crackle, pop" dry. There wasn't a can of beer's worth of rain in the month of July. Small scattered fires began to spring up. They were fought by small and scattered fire fighting crews. There wasn't any cohesive game plan or organization to their efforts. At the time, Big Picture communications and an Incident Command System were nonexistent. 

On August 20th, there was a change in the weather. A cold front had entered the scene. It was accompanied by a wild land firefighters worst nightmare. Wind. Just like that, those isolated pockets of fire coalesced into something terrible. Imagine a bowl of Coleman fuel with an addition of a lit match Whump! 

 

That faithful morning, Pulaski left the mining town of Wallace, Idaho. His parting words to his wife and adopted daughter were "Good bye I may never see you again." Now, that's a John Wayne moment! He then went up into the steep hills and became part of firefighting history. 

As Pulaski ascended toward the flames, he noticed rapidly deteriorating conditions. He gathered 45 firefighters and shepherded them into an abandoned mine tunnel. He placed a wet blanket across the entrance. A few of the panicked men tried to flee the tight enclosure. Ed pulled out a pistol, and threatened to shoot the first one to make a move. No one called him on it. The heat/smoke/CO2 eventually caused all to lose consciousness. Five never woke up. 

In the inferno's aftermath, the survivors stumbled through the ashy chaos and back into the half-burned over town of Wallace. Pulaski spent the next two months in the hospital recuperating. The Big Burn left him damaged both physically and mentally. He died one year after retiring  from the USFS in 1931. 

His legacy continues. Ed left behind a wild land firefighting tool that bears his name. The Pulaski-half ax and half mattock. He came up with the idea in 1911 and fine tuned it by 1913. 

78 firefighters were killed in the Great Fire of 1910. The conflagration consumed  3,000,000 acres of timber too. (Cinders were free falling from the darkened skies as far away as Denver and Chicago) 

Now we ask this question? With all the improvements in training, communications and weather forecasts; why do wild land firefighters still die? 

http://jeffsambur.blogspot.com/2016/05/another-tribute-to-fallen.html

Be safe out there.

If you find yourself in Wallace, Idaho please take the time to hike the Pulaski's Tunnel Trail. It's a fitting tribute to a true American Hero. 

Jeff

The final photo is for Ed.