Denny CreekFractured! This is what happened to me on one trip - a slip into a snow-melt creek, a fractured shoulder, and subsequent hike out. June 14, 1999 The start of another great day begins with a beautiful sunrise shortly before 5 AM. The pinks and light oranges slowly push back the violets and lavender of the evening. All that's left to do is check the forecast on the internet, have something to eat and await Paul to come over to begin our trip to Kaleeten Peak. However, after waiting for almost 45 minutes, It becomes apparent that, for some reason, he forgot. So I load up my pack and things to venture off alone. It's the usual 1-hour drive to one exit before the 'Pass', at Denny Creek, a campground actually nestled between the eastbound and westbound I90. Before stopping, however, I needed to take care of one bit of business. A couple years ago, due to the high use the Alpine Lakes region receives, each vehicle needs to have a parking permit ($3/day, $25/year); otherwise a fine is imposed. I finally found a gas station in North Bend to issue one to me, and I was off. Upon arriving at the trailhead parking area, I was very surprised at the level of the snow even at this elevation (2200 feet). In fact, though I have a 4x4, I still didn't try to go the extra 300 feet by plowing through a 2-foot high snowdrift across the road. I parked off the road, changed boots, re-checked everything one more time and, by 7:30, I was on the trail. Another surprising thing was the cool temperature - about 40-45 degrees. It's fortunate that even on warm days, I still bring extra clothing (jackets, rain gear, gloves and hat). But as usual, by the time I'm 30 minutes into the hike, my body is already warming up, so I can take off my windbreaker. The first part of the trail is very easy and flat as it slowly leads me away from under the hiway. I literally walk under the bridgework, and look up to see the bottom on the westbound lanes, some 80 feet above. Soon the sounds of the road are far behind me and the only sounds that are apparent are my breathing, the crunch of my boots in the snow, and the birds darting in and out of the trees. Most of the trail is still covered with snow as this has been a record snowfall year. The 'path' I'm following is really a dirty, packed-down area of snow, that appears to have received more use that the snow around it. Generally, it's accurate, but meanders a bit. This is one fun thing about hiking in the snow: very low environmental impact on the ground and vegetation. In the summertime, I stay on the trail and do not (emphasis here, DO NOT) cut the switch backs. This damages the forest and is inconsiderate to other hikers. However, in the snow, you can go anywhere. With snow depths still at 4 to 5 feet, as long as you know the direction to go, you can go! But here, with a popular trail such as this, the direction is quite obvious and leads to my first, and most difficult, objective - crossing Denny Creek. Normally, in the summer or low-snowfall years, the river is low enough so that you can rock-hop across, (or walk, if you have waterproof boots). However, now I see that the regular crossing is almost knee deep and flowing very swiftly. Looking upstream, I see some possibilities, so I follow the bank, scrambling up and down the fallen trees, over rocks and along the riverbank (with river at my left side). Finally, I can go no further, as I'm now looking at a waterfall some 30 feet across and 15 feet tall. If I don't find a way across here, my day is done! As luck would have it, near the base of the falls, away from the spray and somewhat downstream, I see a telephone pole-sized log spanning the entire width of the river. There are a couple ways to cross: 1.) To simply walk on the log, or 2.) Sitting down on the log and to scoot along. I chose the scoot method. At the near side (where I am, the water is very shallow and slow, but on the far end (some 25 feet away, the water is about waist deep and flowing rapidly from the accumulation of the water from the falls. As I scoot over this part, I need to focus more as the rapidly moving water under the log is rather hypnotic, and the roar of the falls only adds to the spell. In no time, though, I am across safely. Now, looking around, I see that I need to scramble up some wet, mossy, slippery rocks to a small ledge, some 6 feet above me. Then, grabbing some big roots and bushes, pull myself up further another 15 feet to the top of the bank on the opposite side from which I started Now I need to find the trail once again, but I also must remember where I came up so I can cross the river at this same point. I find some branches that I'll use to make a marker that indicates where the descent will be. I'll put it in a small clearing I hike up some more, toward a clearing, and repeat the process several more times until, eventually, I find the original 'trail' that cuts across a marshy (in the summertime) meadow which leads to Snowshoe Falls. Now I know how to find my way back across the river. As I continue my trip, the snow is very deep, however, I'm not sinking in very far as the sun has helped to consolidate the snow, to make it firm and easy to walk on. But at the same time, what trail I did have, is now obscured under the cover of tree debris. So, as I pick my way through what I think is the trail, I realize that I'm up far too high, and that I also missed another river crossing, meaning I'm on the wrong side of the river. It's now about 10 AM, still early, but this cancels out the Kaleeten attempt. Instead, I look up toward a ridge that is on the same slope I am climbing. Before attempting this, I decide it's time to figure out just where I am. This is a good time for a break, the sun is warm, but the trees provide just enough shade to make it comfortable. In my pack, I always have a compass and a map. By sighting on the peaks in front of me (and it's good to know the names of them!) - The Tooth, Bryant, Hemlock, Denny and Chair - I can triangulate and determine where I am. I sight on the peaks, take a 'bearing' and transfer that to the map. With my altimeter, I know the elevation and with the bearings of the peaks, I know my approximate position. So, knowing my current position, I can determine where I can go with the remaining time. I elect to go up toward a ridge line that leads to "Low Mountain". |
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