September 19th - Backpacking to Camp Mystery (Sudoku, Connections, Crosswords)

"Choosing" a date (Sudoku)

Name that fungus? I cannot! Upper Big Quilcene Trail
(update! This is Bear's Head. It's edible, choice, and has no real lookalikes)

From a 1995 Falcon guide 
(Hiking Olympic National 
Park by Erik Molvar)
picked up at Goodwill 
for $3.99. Great purchase.

I've had a backpacking trip in the Olympic rainshadow in my sights for months. In the original iteration, it was going to be twenty miles, four days, three nights, with two friends and a friend of a friend to share the joys of lugging a home around. This was going to be a two-car situation, with one parked at the Mount Townsend trailhead and one at the Upper Big Quilcene trailhead. It would have gone up Mount Townsend, down to the Tubal Cain trail, up to Marmot Pass, and back to the Upper Big Quilcene trailhead. The reverse of this route can be seen here. 

But. . . finding mutually available dates was a downfall, and I needed to figure out a solo solution. Obligations and opportunities with work and kids narrowed things down more and more until, just like a Sudoku puzzle, the date was decided by process of elimination! I'd also already gone up Mount Townsend in August at this point, so this was my plan - Go up to Camp Mystery on the 19th. Camp. Go up to Marmot Pass in the morning. Bird. Head back to camp for lunch and return to the car. 

Getting there - Point no Point (Connections)

I'd been working in Tacoma on Wednesday night, and decided to do a hotel stay in Tacoma. The tiebreaking fact was a hot buffet breakfast. In advance of the hiking, I'd take any calories I could get!

Sunrise from my room

That stupid "Ford Hawk" 
Fool me once, shame on you
Fool me a dozen times. . . um. . .

I left Tacoma and made a stop at Point no Point. For once, I actually found the strength to drive right past Gorst, (I never skip Gorst. Things were serious.) knowing that I needed to leave as much time as possible to get up to camp by sundown.  But there were numerous birds out at the point that could be added to my yearlist. 

For Kitsap, since it isn't the primary focus for the year, the goal has just been 150 species for the year. It being September, a lot of birds are passing through, but I also saw one of the birds on my "not-going-anywhere" list. Virginia Rail! This list was getting shorter, but I've been keeping a close eye on it, figuring that I could at least *try* to find these birds any time. They range from Red-breasted Sapsucker to American Dipper to like. . . Mountain Quail. Crazy to think that there *are* Mountain Quail in Kitsap every dang day, and that they'd just be a commitment to try to find them doing their daily business. 

Dedication

So, I parked in the boat launch area and did the walk to the lighthouse along the beach. I'm going to admit, I was without my binoculars. I assumed this was because I'd left them at home, but they were actually in my car - just tucked in the back of the trunk following some Holy Reckoning with the space in my car when I was moving my daughter into her college dorm. I figured I'd try my luck with just the scope and camera. 

Common Tern

On the way to the lighthouse, I thought I spied an interesting gull and snapped some pictures. I honestly didn't realize I'd caught a Common Tern until I got home and looked over my pictures! 143 for the year in Kitsap, and *not* one of those birds that's around at any time of year. 

Photo showing the distinctive black shoulder mark that helps rule out Arctic Tern

I got to the lighthouse, where there were a couple dozen people fishing, and one person birding. 

"Anything good?"

"There was just a Sterna Tern in with the Bonaparte's Gulls!"

*pause* "Pardon?"

"Sterna Tern - like an Arctic or a Common." (I need to learn more of my genera!)

Soon, we were watching a Parasitic Jaeger (144) harassing the hundreds of Bonaparte's Gulls. Two more passed by as we chatted about birding. This relatively young birder had his sights on getting to every county in every state in the US! I have some ambitious goals inside the state, but this is something else! His rules: An ebird checklist in each of the counties - no incidental lists, all full lists. 

Parasitic Jaeger bullying some Bonaparte Gulls :)

He's done with some states already and is moving to Texas soon! Fun especially to talk about the different ways that goals like this can move us towards something that we can call fun. I'd really not enjoy doing it the way he's doing it. I'm sure he'd not enjoy my methods either! It's always my question before embarking on a year, during a year, and after: "Do I like what these goals are making me do?" 

A visual showing my yearlists from counties where I've dedicated a year
as well as ? or ?? for counties or pairs of counties I have to hit in the future.
Eventually, I'd like to have a 150-year in every county in the state!

It's been a mostly solid yes for me in these years. I like the depth this has given me on each county in the state. Last year, taking on four counties was a bit too much! But just a little. That decision is going to make me go back to those counties for quite a few missing birds to get them to 175. I don't mind doing that, as long as I don't leave *many* counties that far off.

Surf Scoters

I snuck away to the marsh behind the lighthouse. The seep and chip and smack notes around me sounded like five or so species of sparrows (junco, towhee, both -crowned Sparrows, and Song. Actually... maybe Savannah too, make that six). But I got right into my Virginia Rail call. It's one of the stupidest things I do (that's saying something), but it often does the job. It did today, as a Virginia Rail (145) grunted back from the marsh. 

It was nice getting to make this connection for an hour or so. There had been quite a few over the course of the last couple of days - crossing paths with birders I've known for many years in Renton (where a Pacific Golden Plover dropped in for a visit!), and with a birder that I have not seen in many years in Tacoma. In the pursuit of bird species, we keep track of life lists and year lists. I added some birders to both of my lists this week. 

Getting there - Upper Big Quilcene Trail (Cross words)

A backpack from the beforetimes

I swear I tried to figure out my route to the trailhead in advance. But my GPS system. . . it had to have been built in 1984. It's missing locations, and many of the forest roads have completely different names. I had many cross words for this thing. But in the end, I got to the trailhead, ten or more miles from the highway on 2750. 

The meandering lost me some time, and I took a little more time to do my final bits of knots and whatnots on my pack. I started the hike at a quarter to three, with sunset about four and a half hours away. I had 4.8 miles to hike. I did the math on this in my head and hit the trail. 

First off, I literally cannot tell you how many different kinds of mushrooms I saw on the trail. (I don't think I've used literally before in any of my blogs?? Either way, enjoy that fully intentional use of it). It's not just that it was a hand-wavingly large number. I just don't know what I'm looking at. But here's a quick gallery.

 

Better dinner idea!
Blueberries on the trail

Interestingly, the neutral Cascadia forest smell gave way to a distinctly mushroomy smell after about a mile. They were everywhere. If I knew just a little bit more about mushrooms, I could almost certainly have poisoned myself. If I knew a lot more. . . maybe I could have had some for dinner? I have no idea.

Stopping to take mushroom pictures was one of my dedicated strategies for surviving this hike. I think on hikes where I've pushed things, it gets a little sketchy. I still had sunset on my mind but wanted to make sure I still had gas in the tank by the end. 

The trail was pretty reasonable, all in all. Steep at times, but this always seemed to be followed by stretches of flatter hiking. The more challenging pieces were ones where I had to cross streams. Most pretty easy, but one more challenging. I got almost all the way over and decided to grab hold of some foliage to steady myself. Oops. Devil's Club. It drew a tiny bit of blood, but nothing I couldn't survive. I was just glad to have not ended up in the stream. 

Some things I *did* know I could eat, and I did: Thimbleberry, huckleberry (red and purple) and salal. There were also some birds on the hike! Dark-eyed Juncos, Varied Thrush, Red Crossbills (above the canopy), and even a pair of American Dippers in the Big Quilcene. 

American Dipper

One of the wider crossings

I stopped several times, making a longer stop at Shelter Rock - a camping area just past a sign "Stoves only beyond this point". I hit this after exactly two hours - for 2.7 miles. My map told me I had 2.1 remaining. This seemed like a good bit of news, as far as getting to camp by sunset, although the last stretch would be a bit steeper than the first. 

In addition to my pack, I was carrying my camera case. This felt a *little* silly, but there were some benefits. I didn't have to worry about cramming my camera into the pack or worry for its safety if I did a serious topple. The camera case provides some good padding. I'd also used the little compartments in it for other things. One held a nalgene bottle. One had my snacks. The zip pocket held a map. It was a good use of the small case, at any rate. I still may seek out options for reducing things on future trips. Not if these things become inaccessible!

Around an hour later (5:45) I heard a flicker call. I don't know why I noted it. I just knew, as the forest opened up a lot and I looked across the valley to the ridge opposite of the trail, that I *had* to be getting close. There were some more cross words as I kept running into yet another long ascent along the open ridge. On some stops of this steep section, I took off the pack, and even my shirt, just to let the shirt dry a little and to let my body cool down. It may only have been 60 degrees or so, but I was heated up enough for this to be pretty comfortable. 

So much relief

Another hour later (longer than I had hoped!) I finally got to Camp Mystery. I let out a good whoop - one that was not returned, as I had the camp all to myself on a Thursday evening. In twenty minutes, I had my tent up, a new change of clothes on, and water was boiling for dinner. Here, I'd splurged and gotten a ten-dollar backpackers' meal from REI. Zero point zero repeating regrets with this decision. It was so tasty. 

I drank some of my water with it, carefully looking at the amount I'd brought, and thinking through the trip. One of several smaller purchases I made for this trip was a life straw filter and water bag. It was getting a little dark to fill it up right now, and I still had plenty of water, I thought. I knew that, ultimately, I'd want to use the large plastic bottles for things like coffee and oatmeal. I was unsure at the time about getting water into the pouch, filtered, and into a pot. Either way, I was good for the trip, given the fast-moving stream right next to my tent. 

After dinner, it was getting dark. My friend had loaned me a bear bag for hanging my food. . . I just hadn't had much time to practice. Any. And the site didn't have the tree. In my head, I'd imagined a tree with a nice, long, bare branch sticking out about ten feet, for me to toss this bag over. So, gosh I did a bad job with the bag that night! 

I got into my tent and fell asleep to the babbling creek. My brain kept telling me that I was hearing kind of crunchy sounds sometimes. In my head, I imagined the crunching of branches as the bear climbed the short distance up the tree. . . the crunching of my food as it tore open the bear bag. I tried to just stay relaxed about it. The bear spray sat outside of my tent, but. . .I was not going to clamber out of my tent and startle a happy bear in hopes of having a little confrontation. I just tried to sleep and stepped through Plan A (with food) and Plan B (without).

I did eventually drift off, warm in my sleeping bag on a cool night. I awoke once with moonlight bright against the foot end of my tent, then drifted back to sleep.