Mine_Hunters Blog

Cougar Mountain : Lessons Learned – 07-27-10

2010-07-29T22:44:00.000-07:00

It has been awhile since I posted to this blog, as I save this space for significant and/or unusual occurrences. Well, this is one of those times. In short, if you would have said I would have run into trouble during a mild weeknight hike, resulting in a Search and Rescue team having to come get me, and in a popular urban hiking area no less, I would have said you had lost your mind. But, that is exactly what happened. Read on good friends, and learn from my mistakes…

It was finally Tuesday, and that meant “girl’s night out” for Leesa who planned on linking up with some friends for dinner and good times in Lynnwood. So, with nothing better to do, and no movie times lining up with my schedule, I decided it would be a great night for a hike in a sprawling area known as the “Cougar Mountain Regional Wildlife Park.”

Cougar Mountain – with over 3000 acres of varied terrain and 36 miles of trails, it’s hard to stay away and not hike since it is only minutes from major population centers. Add to that that within the park there is an old Nike Missile base, as well as hundreds of old mine shafts (most closed), and more wildlife than you could count makes this a popular destination year-round.

On this trip (and as is normal for me) I planned on taking my whole pack load as you never know what you are going to run into while hiking (amen!) whether you are a quarter mile up the trail or ten miles up. I also made sure my cell phone and amateur radio were charged as well. Also on board was the SPOT (personal satellite tracker), and a high-end EPIRB (aka ELT – Emergency Locator Transmitter).

I put a blurb out in my Facebook page, inviting anyone that wanted to pound some trail to meet me at 6pm at what is known as “Anti-Aircraft” peak, so named since back when the area was a missile base they had AA guns in place there.

Throwing the pack and a Green Trails map for the area into my truck, I rolled out into the 75+ degree weather and turned onto 405 heading toward Bellevue without a care in the world. The day was perfect, and even though I was not jumping off till 6pm, it would not start to get dark until about 9pm. I also knew the park would not close until dusk – plenty of time to put some miles on my boots before I had to drive home.

In no time I was at the trailhead, and I noticed there were only two cars in the gravel parking area. I found this odd since this was such a popular place to hike and walk. Regardless, I broke out my gear, gave it a last once-over, and waited a few more minutes to see if anyone would show up (no one did).

At 6:10 I finally decided to get moving, and started down what is known as the “Shangri La” trail that roughly heads SE and away from the areas that I have hiked in before. While the route was relatively easy, it drops elevation rapidly and I had to continually remind myself that sooner or later I was going to have to come back UP this way. Ugh.

Saying there were a few bugs out that night would be an understatement, so I stopped after 10 minutes of hiking and slathered on some DEET. I also took a minute to relieve myself in some bushes nearby, and by doing so got stung by some Nettles on my legs. While highly uncomfortable, it’s pretty standard out here, and the pain eased once I put on some topical Benadryl I carry in my first aid kit. Since I was not anticipating doing any “bushwhacking” on this hike, I didn’t bother to wear long pants.

Little did I know I would later pay dearly for this oversight.

I reached the first junction, and there I could either go right on the “Protector Trail,” or continue down Shangri La and intersect one called the “West Tibbetts Creek Trail.” Since I was looking to stretch my muscles a little on this hike, I decided to continue farther down knowing the route back would give me a good workout.

Soon I was at the junction of West Tibbett’s Creek Trail and Shangri La. I took a left, jumping on Tibbett’s for the short jaunt over to the “Bear Ridge E3 Trail,” and eventually down to the “Fantastic Erratic” glacial boulder. With a name like that, I just HAD to see what this is all about! Unfortunately, it meant even more elevation drop. “No pain, no gain” I thought, and continued on my way.

Reaching the rock (it’s just a big rock… go figure), I started to get a little concerned at the time I had left. I had to make it back to the parking area before dusk, otherwise my truck might get locked in (not good). So, checking the map I noticed a little crossover path from Bear Ridge Trail (that I was currently on) to the West Tibbett’s’ Creek Trail. I decided to drop down, take the crossover, then start to ascend back up the mountain eventually picking up the Shangri La trail again and then back to the truck. By my calculations, I would have just enough time to do that and be back by dusk. I was now about 900 feet below and over a mile (as the crow flies) from Anti-Aircraft peak.

This is where things started to get a little strange.

Upon reaching the crossover trail, I turned left. The trail was very nice with some benches planted along the way (nice, but unusual). After a minute or so I wondered why I had not reached the West Tibbett’s Creek Trail yet. Instead, I reached a very nice bridge and could not help but notice the construction machinery and outlines of new homes looming through the trees. “What the hell” I said under my breath as I climbed the trail into the new housing complex.

While the homes were very nice, and I knew that even on my best day I could probably only afford a garden shed (barely) in this neighborhood, it still left the nagging question of were the hell did the trail go and which way now?

I would like to point out that I have hiked in the Cascades over some of the most rugged terrain there is. I have forded creeks, rivers, and crossed bogs. I have climbed mountains, hopped over talus slopes, slid down tailings piles, and waded through snow drifts. All seasons, in all weather conditions, and all terrain types without much trouble – but this “urban” stuff had me stumped. Maybe I just do better where there aren’t $700 custom made mailboxes and visitor centers with espresso carts.

I stopped and took a good look at the map, trying to correlate what I saw on paper with what is in front of my eyes. I DID find a water tank symbol on the Green Trails map, but saw three tanks in front of me up on the hills. Other than that, not much was lining up and there sure-as-hell were no house symbols to be seen.

I had to make a decision – backtrack to the trail I came down on and risk not making it back to the parking area in time, or forge ahead and try to find a trail, ANY trail that went the direction I wanted to go. I decided to see if the trail I wanted was up near the water towers and went up the road. A few minutes later these tanks loomed above my head, but no trail. Damn! More time wasted!

Just as I was about to give up and head back down to the trail I came out from, I saw a small trail-like track heading just under the tanks and up the hill. Bingo! This MUST be the trail… right? So up I went, confident that even if it wasn’t the correct trail I could bushwhack up to the ridge and pick up the lower Sangra La trail that would get me back.

This would prove to be the decision that would seal my fate that night.

Higher and higher I climbed up that track, soon coming out to an open area that at one time looked like an orchard. I reached the end of the track, and then switched back left to go even higher up the mountain – the trail getting tighter and narrower as I went.

About 10 minutes later, I was up on the hill just waiting to hit the lower Shangra La trail that (according to the map) ran right along the top of the ridgeline. Getting to the top, I did not find the trail as expected. Very strange. I figured that I just did not calculate correctly and plowed ahead, fully expecting to find the trail just past next bush. But, it was not meant to be.

Now, I was up on the ridge, plowing through moderate vegetation, and looking for a “ghost” trail. The only way through all the crap in front of me was to follow the game trails zigzagging through the brush, but eventually even those ran out. I consulted the map again, and thought perhaps if I start to move more to the left (SW) that I may pick up the trail that way. I ended up just getting into the brush even deeper.

Meanwhile, with all the bush-bashing I had been doing, I did not initially notice that my legs and arms had started to hurt. This was from blasting through all the vines, ferns, bramble bushes… and nettles. In fact, it was getting downright uncomfortable. But, stubbornly, I pushed on, thinking I could handle it ok. Besides, how much farther away could the damn trail be? I was bound to hit the trail… ANY trail soon… right?

Stopping for a rest, I decided I needed to call Leesa and let her know that I was having issues, but not to worry. I knew were I was (overall), and that I still thought I had time to reach the truck. All I needed to do was find the trail. She (bless her heart) offered to come and be with the truck so the gate would not be closed. I told her no, that other than being in a little pain I was doing OK and that I would call her as soon as I reached the trail.

After I hung up, she called our friend Brad who lived about 15 minutes away from Cougar Mountain. He volunteered to head up, find the truck, and standby. Brad then called me for directions, radio repeater info (so we could talk on our handhelds instead of cell phones), and asked if he could do anything else. I could not think of anything, and he quickly packed up and headed out.

Checking my GPS, I found I was just under ¾ of a mile from the truck – but still with no trail, on unknown terrain, and in unknown territory with 500’ of elevation gain to go. I HAD to find that damn trail, and I started to push forward as hard as I could.

Later, Leesa called again to check up on me having just left her friends. I must have sounded pretty awful, because she noticed it in my voice. It was the tone of desperation and pain, and there was no hiding it from her. She asked what she could do. I said it might be helpful if she could get to a computer, bring up the SPOT tracking page, and see if she could correlate what she sees on the screen with were a trail might be. She turned around and immediately headed back to her friends house. I stated I was in severe pain, but was still moving forward hoping to find the trail and get out of the sea of underbrush that was easily 6 feet high.

About ten minutes later, I began to notice how dark it had become. By this time my legs and arms were on fire from the stinging nettles, biting bugs, scratching sticker bushes, and God knows what else. I looked down at my legs that were now badly swollen, and I was starting to get a little wobbly. The pain had increased to the point were even my stubbornness was not dousing the waves of anguish. Each step through the chest-high vegetation brought increased pain, but I was determined to continue. I got myself into this, and I will get myself out.

Hoping there was someone nearby on ANY trail, I took out my whistle, plugged my ears (this whistle is VERY loud), and blew it three long times – then listened. Nothing. A second round of blowing and a fair bit of yelling was answered with silence. Not good.

I took a few more steps through the brush and paused - it was then I noticed the shaking.

I had been pushing so hard that I failed to notice my hands were shaking so bad I could not even read the GPS without putting it on the ground. My legs were doing the same, and I then started to feel nauseated. It dawned on me I was starting to have some kind of reaction… to what I did not know, but a reaction nonetheless. Not good……

At what point, one wonders, do you follow the advice you have tried to teach others. I have told people over and over that if you FEEL you are in over your head, then you probably are. If you THINK you need help, then you probably do. And more importantly, don’t WAIT till it is too late to make the decision to seek help. Do it NOW.

With my own words of advice ringing in my ears, I took stock of my situation:

1. I was not “lost,” but did not know how to make it back safely.

2. I was in unfamiliar territory, off trail, and could not see what was in front of me, not to mention what lurked under the brush (such as old mineshafts or drop-offs).

3. It was getting dark.. fast. While I am no stranger to hiking in the dark, this area was not conducive to navigating at night even with lights.

4. I was having some kind of reaction to something – and if it got worse in some way, I did not know how much time I had left.

Bottom line and all things considered, it was time to admit I needed help.. and fast. I stopped moving, made a little clearing next to a tree, and then called Leesa asking her to make the call to 9-1-1 so I could conserve my cell battery in case I needed it later.

It was one of the hardest decisions I ever had to make, since it marked the first time in 100’s of hikes that I could not make it out on my own. I felt embarrassed, defeated, and very alone.

Forcing myself to think through the situation and do the right thing (all I wanted to do is collapse at that point from the pain), I started gathering information 9-1-1 and the SAR team may need like my medical condition, coordinates, equipment carried, communications, etc. I reviewed what I had in my pack that I could use, and started laying out things I might need immediately such as my GPS, cell phone, flashlights, map, and radio. I also made sure that my SPOT was functioning correctly so that Leesa would have the proper coordinates that we could also compare to the GPS unit and make sure they matched.

A few minutes later, Leesa’s friend Cass called back and relayed to me that 9-1-1 wanted me to stop moving (I had), let me know they are on it, and that 9-1-1 would call me directly in a few minutes for more information and to just hang tight. “No problem” I said, adding I was not going anywhere.

In the meantime, I started to bring my amateur radio portable on-line and search for a local repeater that would work. I tried the “511” repeater first since this is the one Search and Rescue would use. No dice, I was hitting the repeater, but was not getting through for some reason. The same thing happened on other local repeaters as well including Tiger Mountain that I was literally line-of-site with. Crap.

I realized that my portable radio - the same one that I carried everywhere while hiking for just such an emergency - was not working properly. The only repeater system I was having any luck with was (go figure) the Cougar Mountain system and that was iffy at best. It is located just on the other side of the mountain from the parking area, but still close enough to get my voice through. It was this channel that radio coordination would have to happen on.

I keyed up an explained the situation to the other amateur radio folks on the channel. Bless them all, because as is traditional for this sort of thing, they cleared the channel and monitored in case I needed anything else.

Meanwhile, Brad called on the cell to get better directions to the parking area. I brought him up to speed and told him to contact Leesa and let her know he was aware of what was happening. Once he knew exactly were I was parked, he headed that way to make sure someone who was aware of what was happening was present and could answer additional questions if needed. What a guy.

Soon after that call I received a call from the 9-1-1 dispatcher. She was very professional and did not make me feel like I was the idiot I felt I was at that moment. She asked some basic questions, and then got down to the business of location. She asked if I had GPS coordinates available. I said “do you want that in LAT/LON or UTM?” She laughed, and said LAT/LON would be preferable. I gave them to her, and she then said to sit tight as things with SAR were rapidly spinning up. I thanked her profusely, and hung up.

By this time it was pitch black out, as the moon had not come up over the mountains. A light breeze ran through the trees, and the woods got very quiet. I figured I would have some water and a little food and see if it would stay down. While the intensity of the pain in my legs and arms was still going full-blast, the nausea has subsided, and I was indeed able to keep it all down (thank God).

I then turned my attention to the next issue: mosquitoes. They were now swarming all over my head in force. I did not know if they were going after my arms and legs as I could not feel them beyond the waves of pain. It occurred to me that I could have pulled out my bivy sack and climbed in, but I was too tired and wanted to be able to move quickly if needed.

I also totally forgot that I carry a bug shield in my pack too – but pain will do that sometimes; fog normal thinking. So instead, I pulled out my bandana, covered my neck and half my head with it, and put my hat back on. This worked pretty well. I could have put on more DEET, but the thought of adding more chemicals to the mix on my body did not sit well, so I passed on it, sat on a large blowdown, and just watched, waited, and listened.

Sometime in this mix, I received a call from someone in SAR on the radio, stating they were working the communications/coordination end of things, and asking for refreshed information, my condition, and current coordinates. I gave him all I had, and he stated teams were on the way but it will be awhile. I thanked him and let him know also I wasn’t going anywhere.

Brad finally made it to the trailhead and called to say he was there. We then tried to see if I could hear his car horn from were I was. I could not, even though the GPS said it was only ¾ of a mile away. I started to question if my GPS was working correctly, but I have come to rely on that unit over the years and it has not steered me wrong yet. Still, not being able to hear that horn was a little disconcerting.

Next we tried to establish direct communications between the radios. While I could hear him a little scratchy, he could not hear me at all. Now I was positive my radio was having issues, and that we would just have make do. We switched back to the Cougar repeater and hoped for the best. Towards the end of the conversation, Brad mention that a King County Deputy Sheriff had just rolled up, and that he was going to brief the officer on what he knew.

About 30 long quiet minutes past, and even though I knew I was supposed to conserve my cell battery, I texted Leesa an “I love you.” It made me feel better, and gave me something to do. A few minutes later Leesa called, and said that even though 9-1-1 told her not to call, that she just had to see how I was doing. I brought her up to speed, and she stated that her and Cass were heading out from her house to Brad’s location up on the mountain since there was not much more they could do there. We hung up, and again I felt utterly alone.

I don’t know how long I sat there listening to the sounds of a million mosquitoes trying to drain me of vital bodily fluids - but I started to realize two things: my legs and arm pain had subsided a little, and the woods were getting lighter. I attribute the lessening of pain to the fact it had been hours since I came into contact with any nasty plants – a good thing. The increased brightness of the woods was caused by an amazing moon-rise over the distant mountains. It was very beautiful, and allowed me to at least see shapes in the woods without a flashlight.

Upon seeing the rise in ambient light, it occurred to me that I should have some light set up so the searchers if need be could see it from a distance. I then hung my primary light from a tree branch and activated one of my backup LED lights (also hung in the tree) and set it to flash – an instant and very effective visual beacon.

Sitting there, watching the light flash, time became a strange thing. I was no longer checking my watch, and didn’t care what time it was, or how long I had waited. It was all very surreal, and my thoughts revolved around all the people I have now inconvenienced and the ruckus I have caused. My emotions ranged from guilt to anger that I was now someone else’s “problem.” It was a little hard to swallow, even though I knew deep down I did the right thing.

Somewhere in that “time fog” the radio crackled to life. The SAR teams were on the ground and wanted to verify my LAT/LON again. I read them off the coordinates and they told me to stay put and call if anything else came up. Since they did not know 100% were I was, or the terrain thereof, they were launching two teams each coming in from a different direction. I was happy about that, and started to wonder from which direction they would come.

After that it got very quiet, and the wait continued. Bugs continued their onslaught on my head and all exposed skin parts. I shuddered to think how I would look the next day – probably like a pin cushion above my shoulders, and like I had been hit with a zillion needles below the knees. Touching the front of my legs, the skin felt dead, like all the sensation had been drained away. My arms on the other hand were doing a little better, and the shaking had subsided considerably.

More time passed, and it dawned on me me that I had not been making any noise. I pulled out my whistle again and gave it three long blows, then listened. Nothing still. I repeated this a few more times with no indication anyone had heard anything. It was very discouraging.

Had I indeed given them the correct coordinates? Signal bounce (where the signal from the satellite bounces of something and then reaches the GPS, giving a false location) happens and is common in the hills and mountains, and with the luck I have been having it would be par for the course this night. But, I have to have faith that it was right, and things would work out in the end.

After what seemed like an eternity sitting on that blowdown, listening past the buzz of the insects, I finally heard what I thought was a far of shout. Judging the distance, it was WAY far off. I decided to just sit tight and see if I hear it again. Maybe three minutes later, I heard another shout and this time it seemed closer. But it was still far enough away that I could not judge the distance or direction. “Well” I thought, “at least I hear something out there.” Taking no chances, I again blew the whistle, and was greeted with silence. “This could take a lot longer if they are looking in the wrong place” I mused.

But, now that I knew they were in the area, I focused all my attention on any noise out of the ordinary. I started hearing far off noise that seemed to be above the normal forest sounds - but again I could not identify them or the direction they came from. Surely they would be yelling or something as they went? I did not know.

Just as I was about to sit back down I heard a glorious sound - a human calling my name about 100’ away! YEEEESSSSSS! I let out a whoop and lit up the forest in their direction with my primary light to guide them in.

It was then I noticed something odd – they walked very easily to with about 50 feet of me and stopped. All I could think of was…. ‘crap, you have GOT to be kidding me.’

“Please tell me you are not standing on the fricken trail right now” I yelled out. They answered (with a little amusement in their voices) “Ok, we won’t tell you.” Holy mama… I was 50 FEET from the trail the whole time. Under my breath I let out a stream of obscenities that would make a career sailor blush. If I had trekked 50 more feet in front of me, I would have hit a trail. Unbelievable.

Regardless, I was VERY happy to see them, and we all had a good chuckle as I gathered my gear and they made sure I was ambulatory. To their extreme credit, they did not make me feel like and idiot either, and upon thanking them profusely, all they would say is “that’s what we are here for.” What a class act these folks are.. really.

It took us about 15 minutes to get down the mountain, ironically, to a point in the housing development near were I started going up. The other team got there first, and we were a close second. When I reached the Command Post area, the officer in charge, with clipboard in hand, walked up to me and said “are you Mark?” I said I was, and with a deadpan voice he said “will that be Visa or Mastercharge.” Everyone laughed, including me, and I knew it was going to be ok. He took some information and they started wrapping up the mission.

I thank everyone there, and found out that they were running another SAR mission over on Tiger Mountain at the same time as mine for a gentleman who had broken his ankle. I said I felt bad that resources had to be drawn from that mission to deal with me. They said it was no big deal since they had more people on the other mission than they could use, and they were already out here anyway. It made sense to me, but it still did not set well.

Turns out one of the people on the second team that went up the other side to reach me I had known for 10 years. So, he volunteered to take me up to Anti-Aircraft Hill to link up with Leesa, Cass, and Brad that had been monitoring the progress on the radio.

It was a long drive up there, and we finally arrived back at my truck about 12:20am. My legs and arms were still on fire, I was tired, hungry, and exhausted, but I was finally out of the woods. After giving well deserved hugs and thanks all around, we convoyed off the mountain and headed home.

*******

That night back home was a rough one. After a rather painful shower, I applied topical Benadryl all over my legs and arms. I would like to say it did the trick, but in reality it did not put a dent in the pain at all. Whatever toxins had been blasted into my skin were not done yet by a long shot. I lay in bed squirming in agony as no position offered any relief.

I tried Dermoplast and Lanacane sprays, wet towels, and anything else I could think of try and deaden the pain to no avail. I would have even tried baking soda paste it we would have had any. Finally, about 4am, I passed out in spite of the pain for a couple of hours before I had to arise and take Leesa to her car she left up at her friends when they drove to the trailhead together.

After dropping Leesa off and calling into work to say I would not be in - I got to the pharmacy and purchased several tubes Hydrocortisone cream. Within an hour of applying that, my arms and legs felt very much better, to the point I could finally sleep… thank God.

******

It was not until the next morning that most of the pain had gone away. As I sit here and write this on Thursday night, it still itches somewhat, but even that is quickly going away. I am just thankful that whatever I came into contact with did not do more harm or damage than it did.

Upon downloading the GPS track, and looking carefully over the maps, it become very apparent what had happened. The trail I was supposed to find up on the ridge no longer exists. When they built the housing tracts (that are still under construction), they took it out and re-routed all the trails to different starting points along the edge of the development. They are now no longer connected in a continuous way, and the signage they have (or lack thereof in places) did not show the new entry points. In short, the lower section of Shangra La trail is now gone – the very trail I was trying to reach. What I ended up 50 feet from was the “No Name Trail” that connects to Shangra La on both ends that used to make a large loop.

The map I was using was a Green Trails special version of the park and surrounding areas dated 2004. Ironically, the map that King County has on-line now for Cougar does not show the changes either, and is two years out of date.

But, I don’t blame the maps, or the housing development, or anything else for that matter for getting me into that predicament. The blame rests solely with me.

I should have turned around when I had the chance instead of stubbornly forging ahead. And, while I was fully prepared to be out in the woods overnight if necessary, being a little late back to the truck would have been preferable to that or any SAR mission in my honor.

The bottom line is this: no matter how experienced you are, and no matter how prepared you are, things can go wrong even in your own backyard. Learn from this, educate yourself, and go out prepared. It may not help to stop a bad situation from happening, but you will be better prepared if it does.

******

I would like to thank my friends who selflessly came to my aid that night – I could not ask for any better. While not a life-or-death situation, it was nice to know someone was on the other end of the radio and phone I knew. Thanks guys.

Finally, I would like to offer a sincere THANK YOU to the men and women of the emergency services – be it the 9-1-1 operators, the police, or the volunteers who go out and give so much of themselves without compensation or the expectation of gratitude – you are the best there is. I am humbled by your dedication and service, and hope that the Man upstairs always watches over you while you are putting yourselves on the line for others. Again, please accept my sincere gratitude.

Palabra jot

2010-07-09T10:27:00.000-07:00

Howdy Folks!

I noticed it’s been awhile since I updated my blog here and I apologize for that. The last 6 months has been filled with “life disruptions” on various fronts that have otherwise prevented me from cranking out prose on any level.

Now that things have calmed down a bit (thank God), I hope to ramp up again and blog my “weekend adventures” on the fun and crazy things I get into or am involved with. I miss writing, and look forward to finding the time to do it once more!

Feel free to shot me an email if you have any questions, or just want to chew the rag. I welcome comments from one and all.

Take care!

Mine Hunter (-:

Mineral City Recon – 02-27-10

2010-03-03T14:30:00.000-08:00

Hike Stats:

Distance: 15.68 Miles RT
Elevation Gain: +/- 1370
Duration: 13 Hours Trail Time
Weather: Sun and Rain
People Encountered: 0
Weird Happenings: 2

Far up the Silver Creek valley is an old forgotten area known as “Mineral City.” Once the center-of-the-universe for mining up that way, it now lives on in name only. While there is still plenty of mines and mining history in the mountains around the area, almost every trace of the town itself is long gone.

My goal on this particular hike was to check how the route fared the winter months, and get some waypoints to add to my ever-growing list of interesting things up this valley to use on mine-hunting trips in the near future.

Waking up at 4:30am, I timed the day so that I would just reach the Index/Galena road washout area (aka “The Crossover”) when there was enough daylight to go up and over the ½ mile of destroyed road without the aid of flashlights.

I slung my pack on and hit the trail at 6:10am, ascending the short but steep first section of the Crossover. While following the muddy trail, I kept an eye out for a Jeep that stupidly tried to drive (yes drive) up the portion of the Skokomish River that split from the main and took out the road. Another fellow mine hunter (“Kent” of NWUE fame) took some shots and posted them on NW-Hikers. But alas, the jeep was gone. I would have paid good money to see how they got it out of there!

After completing the two crossover sections, I regained the road and headed up to the main concrete bridge about 3 miles away that allows access to the other side of the river and the start of Silver Creek “Road” (in name only).

Having been this way a dozen times before, I noted again several mining claims along the river, the jump-off point for the Kitanning Mine, and what I now know is the “Pelton Claims” - an area the road cuts through with a BIG pile of rocks and more quartz than you can shake a stick at. Interestingly, a smaller road cuts above the main road above the rock pile. Hmmmm, gonna have to check that out one day.

Soon I was at the bridge crossing, and I still had the whole place to myself. This being the Gold Show weekend at Monroe, I would not have expected too many other explorers to be out. Plus, the weather looked iffy on the reports. But to my surprise, the sun started to come out and stayed out for most of the day. Yay! After crossing the bridge, I turned and started to ascend up Silver Creek proper.

The road took me past familiar landmarks and features I had seen many times before. But, I was not keeping my eye open for new things as well. One new “thing” I found on this trip was a mysterious old road in the early part of the route that lead uphill and away from the main road – but in an unusual direction. Most side-roads are oriented so when you come down them, you are entering the main road going downhill. This one was the opposite – when you come down you are heading up hill (as in up-stream). Intrigued, I took a little detour and followed it up a ways.

It was not long before I got to the “top” and found a flag line heading off to the left (uphill). Finding a flag line when you’re a “Mine Hunter” is an exciting thing since at the end of the flags you usually tend to find something. Unfortunately, this was not the case here. I followed the line up into the rough only to find it ran out after 4 flags. Bummer! Oh well, another area to come back to and check another day………

A little father up the road and across from another mining claim (the “J.J”. I think) were the sign says it is “protected by 357 magnum” (pu-leeezzz), I noticed a pipe sticking out from the hillside to the left. Upon closer examination, it was a modern PVC pipe (rather new too) stuck into an old rusty pipe. This PVC was gushing out a good stream of water. There was nothing else around the area, so one could surmise that this is a natural spring that people use when they camp up here. As for me, I will skip testing that theory. With my luck it would turn out to be someone’s gray water drain… or worse!

Back on the main road again it was not long before I came to the Magnusen Adit, and then the cutoff for the Bonanza, and then the landslide area. Checking the rope line was still in good shape I climbed down the hill and made it to the rock-ramps with little trouble. The trail across the slide was almost unnoticeable, but the there was indeed still a little path there and the rocks were holding steady. The sun had come out full force by this time making the crossing very pleasant!

Coming off the slide area, I was immediately greeted by my old friend the “Betty Adit.” Having been in that mine many times I skipped it and continued to Henrietta Gulch and the second “obstacle” – the climb down into the gulch and up the other side. The IS a bridge there, but the planks were removed in anticipation of the wintertime snow load. Now the only was down was to say a pray and climb down the old ladder, cross, and then climb the rocks up the other side.

If one takes their time, watches their step and is careful on the rocks it’s no big deal. But, it can still be a little intimidating. Since that hiker fell last year from the bridge in this very gulch and eventually passed away just before the slide area I have taken extra time at this spot – not only to make sure I keep safe, but to say a little prayer for him also.

Now that the two major obstacles were behind me, I increased the pace and quickly passed by more interesting spots along the way – eventually coming into the Monte Carlo Cabin area. With all the Devils Club, Vine Maple, and bramble bushes out of commission, it was nice to be able to see up draws, down hills, and other sights that one would not normally get to see.

Finally, I reached “Lake Gulch” where the bridge is no more. It was here several years ago, but Mother Nature and time took it’s toll and the remnants of it are now spread all down the valley. The only way to cross this little jewel is to climb down the hill towards the river to the right (look for the red flags), cross at the bottom (easy in low water), and huff it back up the other side.

Easy if you are not dog-tired already!

For some reason I was just dragging a** that day, and I could not seem to summon my energy reserves. I figured I would get it back after I had lunch in Mineral City. In hindsight, I should not have waited that long.

The rest of the trek up was uneventful, and the route was relatively open. Coming into Mineral City (you can’t miss it – the name is carved into a log on the way in), I was met with some snow on the trail. However, by the time I got into “downtown” MC, it was all gone.

Now I would LIKE to say that the area is rich in artifacts, building foundations, and interesting things to see. But, the reality is just the opposite for the town site. The West fork of Silver Creek comes in from above the town, and when it floods all that water runs right through the area – pushing huge logs and debris in its path. The power of the water, the battering-ram force of the logs, as well as time and weather have taken its toll on the area. Because of this, hardly a trace remains. However, if you have a good eye, have done your homework, and are willing to exert some additional energy, there are things up there you can see – including lots of mines!

So, I found a nice log, cracked open the pack, and took out my humble PB&J sandwich, fruit cup, and drink – just as it started to rain. Figures!

And here’s were it gets a little…. weird.

While sitting there quietly contemplating my next move, with only the sound of Silver Creek off in the distance, I heard something. Now I have been coming up to the mountains for years, and I know most of the sounds that naturally occur up there. This was not one of them……

What I heard sounded like a truck - a large, gas powered, low rumble, and throaty-type sound about 40-60 feet through a stand of tress that went on for 30 seconds or so and abruptly stopped. What the hell?!?

I froze, listening for anything out of the ordinary – but there was nothing further. I started running through my mind possible explanations, but came up with no plausible ones. It was not a plane overhead, it was not an echo, and there certainly were no trucks up here.

Just when I was about to get up and investigate, I heard voices, two people, about in the same location. Again I froze.. listening intently. After another 30 seconds they stopped. I could not make out what they were saying, but it was coming from the same area for sure. More curious than nervous, I got up, made my way around the trees to see what I could see.

Nothing.

I looked around the whole area for any sign of people, but no one was around. I even checked further than were I thought I had heard anyone – but there was no one there, and the snow in the clearing had not been disturbed.

I went back to my sandwich, still looking and listening for anything that might explain what I heard. But, nothing came to mind and no other strange or out of place sounds were heard. Weird!

Finishing my 5 star dinning experience dining experience with an elegant and tastefully prepared desert (Snack Pack Pudding, chocolate swirls), I threw my pack back on. The rain had abated and I figured I had about another 40 minutes before I had to start back down. I crossed the West fork and picked the road back up. This is farther than I had ever been up this valley, and my only regret is I did not have more time.

Eventually, I came to a bridge crossing just before the Seattle-Cascade mill site. This bridge also has seen better days, since most of it has broken apart. Here I decided to stop, take some pictures, and turn around.

It took me a good 4 hours to get back to the truck, and I only had to use my lights on the crossover (bonus!). Leaving early so you can take your time and check things out on the way are very nice – even though I loath getting up before the sun.

It was a fun hike, and at least I know what lies beyond Mineral City (to that point). My goal over the next few months is to explore area around Mineral City and higher up the valley. To do that when hiking in from the washout on IGR AND having ample time for exploration upon arrival may take an overnighter and then some. But either way, the trek is worth it…. even with the “haunted” truck and people noises. (-:

Pictures of this hike can be seen here:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/minehunter/sets/72157623535300860/

Enjoy!

Pacific Northwest Leisure Hiking

2010-02-24T13:22:00.000-08:00

Howdy!

Some of you who follow my blog may have noticed new sets of pictures on my Flickr page with the acronym “PNWLH” in the title – and some of you wrote to find out what the heck it meant. Well, GLAD YOU ASKED!

A little history – Leesa (my significant other) several months ago had total knee replacement surgery, and just this last week had the other one done as well. These operations are less than fun, and require a significant amount of energy and time to recover from. One of the key tasks towards recovery (after she is released from care – about three weeks from now) is ongoing exercise. In other words… move that leg girl!

Naturally, hiking comes to mind as a great way to work the legs and build back up strength. Unfortunately, the hikes I generally go on are waaaaaay to long, rough, and advanced for a beginning hiker just getting her sea-legs back. So, I went looking for some places closer to home that are flat, easy, and above all else interesting.

Rewind to a few months ago when I stumbled upon some Flickr pages while researching God-knows-what, and was impressed with the quality of the posted photos . I took it one step father and sent an email to the owner of the pages ("Alecia”) telling her so, and including a few links to my pages as well. She replied, and stated she would love to chat with me sometime after the holidays about some of the hikes I have been on. I stated I would welcome it, and as is often the case got caught up in the holiday season and put it on the back burner.

Fast forward to about 4 weeks ago when I came across her email once again. Intrigued, I dug a little deeper and found her blog that eventually linked me to the Pacific Northwest Leisure Hiking (PNWLH) group’s page. What I found was very cool! This group makes no bones about it; if you are out of shape, want to loose weight, or just want a nice group of folks to hike with at your own pace– then PNWLH is for you!

Well, after looking at the material, I put two and two together and thought this would be a great way for Leesa to get back into walking and build up strength in her legs once she emerged from the hospital/home.

To make a long story short, we joined the group and along with 4 other friends went on our first hike on the 7th of February and completely enjoyed it! Leesa soon after got her knee done, but I still hiked with the group on three more outings since then. Alecia (the group’s founder) does an incredible job coordinating the outings and makes sure all are safe and have a good time.

I can honestly say that I don’t think we could have found a more perfect group to link up with. Everyone is fun, outgoing, supportive, and like one big happy family! Truly an amazing “find” and kudos to Alecia once again for her commitment to the members and for the warm welcome we received into the group. Leesa is already looking forward to getting better so she can join everyone on the hikes.

As for me, I will continue to pound the trails (or lack thereof) looking for old mine sites up in the Cascades as weather, conditions, and time allow. But, it’s also nice to be with fun people out on the trails sometimes too. So, expect to see a mix of “epic” mine-hunting pictures and stories on here and Flickr mixed with fun local hikes with the fine folks from the PNWLH group!

If you would like to know more about the group, here is the link to their “base” page:

http://www.pnwleisurehiking.com/

Enjoy! (-:

Aces Up Mine – Adit #2 – 01-30-2010

2010-02-02T14:27:00.000-08:00

Hike Stats –

Distance: 9.84 Miles RT
Elevation Gain: +/- 1167

Duration: 11.5 Hours Trail Time
Weather: Mild
People Encountered: 0
Wildlife Encountered: 1 Bunny Wabbit

Another Saturday, another hike! As the weather was still fair, and no additional snow had fallen since the “epic” Coney Mine hike the Saturday before, I figured it might be a good time to push farther up the West Miller River trail and visit the Aces Up Mine.

I had been to the Aces Up several times before, but had never visited the upper adits due to lack of time. So with nothing BUT time on my hands, I slung on the ‘ol pack and hit the trail to see how far I could get – jumping off about 9:10am.

The first half route was no different than the weekend before; snow and ice in places, but nothing to slow one down much. It was strange to follow my own tracks in the snow as now they where a frozen map of my route to the Coney. I noticed though that there where additional animal prints overlaying my old tracks as well. I wish I knew more about what could make those kinds of tracks as some where rather large!

I reached the ever-familiar King and Kinney cutoff and decided to have a quick look around. Off to the right and somewhat off the trail, a big “glob” of yellow surveyors tape was hanging in a tree. I could not imagine what would possess someone to leave that much garbage in the woods, let alone hang it on a tree. My guess is they had a fight with their roll of tape… and lost.

Just on the other side of the road, opposite the “Cable Tree,” I found another smaller cable wrapped around a large stump. I would normally dismiss this as old logging hardware, but the cable stretching out from the stump was pointing right at the big “cable tree.” Hmmmm, an additional anchor for the haul-back tram perhaps? Or possibly another cable for the upper adit? We may never know.

Moving on, it was not long before I reached “The Diner” near the old powerhouse area (and the cutoff) for the Coney Basin Mine. I stopped here to have a rest and poke around some more. As I did, something caught my eye, and I noticed a small circular tag nailed at the base of a large tree. Since logging has long ended up this valley, I wondered if it could be part of some sort of study.

Also in this area, I found yet another part of a vehicle that I had not seen before. It looks to be a blue-colored window frame or possible a fender. This located about 30’ from the older car parts near the tree on the cutoff into the Coney Basin. Unfortunately, most of the frame is crushed under a large tree, but I was able to get some pics just the same.

Note: While an old car part (or any man-made object in the woods) seems as exciting to most people as watching paint dry, you never know when those pieces (when look at in a global way) will offer clues to help solve larger mysteries – such as locations of adits, camps, etc. That is why I take the time to document what I find, and share it with others.

Onward I trudged, higher up the valley. Now that I had past the Coney cutoff, I started making some new fresh tracks in the snow that seemed to be getting deeper as the distance up the valley increased.

The vistas unfolded before me, providing ample picture taking opportunities – when before I knew it I was at the Cleopatra Mine Camp (a mine on my list to visit someday). It was eerily…. open. It’s a little weird when you are used to seeing nothing but vegetation in the nice months, just to see.. well… EVERYTHING now. Kinda nice! (-: I fired off some shots of the pressure vessel, old truck frame, and noted where the bulldozer track leads out from the camp (for future reference). Onward!

The rest of the run to the Aces Up was uneventful (other than the snow getting deeper still). Soon I was at Adit #3 of the mine just off the trail, but alas, this one is too dangerous to enter. I was here last summer, and the entrance had not changed. A good sign, but still to risky to enter as I did years ago. I took some pics of the adit, the side dump ore car, and the “forge” right next to the cart. Seeing I did not have a lot of time on the clock left, I proceeded to cut up the hill towards the tailings pile of Adit #2.

I gotta tell ya, if getting to all the mines in our area was as easy as just walking over snow and directly to the adit I would have visited ALL of them by now. This was downright easy! What a treat not fighting bugs, Vine Maple, and Devils Club! Yay! The downside is you miss all the cool artifacts lying around the mine area (now covered in snow). Somewhat of a tradeoff really.

I was up to the adit in minutes taking in the view of the valley from the top of the tailings pile. Keeping in mind I had limited time, I got out the camera, light sources, and dived right into the mine.

Carefully working my way along the water-filled path, I watch for anything that could cause issues. But, the way was pleasantly clear of major obstacles, so farther back I went, following the old air line that supplied compressed air to the rock drills.

After about 200’ or so, the water I was sloshing though petered out, and dry land was obtained. But, not before reaching one of the more interesting features of this mine… the winze. A “winze” is a shaft that has been bored from inside an adit. Going straight down - this one was good sized and filled with water.

Keeping my distance, I shined my flashlight in the pool making the water take on a deep green tint as the beam pierced the seemingly bottomless pit. I did my best to take some decent pictures and in them you can just make out the walls of the winze. And in one of them you can see just a hint of the junk some distance down the hole.

Leaving the gaping maw, I made my way farther back following the vein they where drifting along on the right side near the ceiling. It was not long before I was back at the “face’ of the adit (end of the tunnel). There, I noticed like many other mines in this area, people who visited the mine over the years left a calling card in the form of names and the dates they where there – written with their carbide lamp flames. I took pictures of most of them, and the oldest date I could make out was from 1949 (“Hank”). There was even one for “ZZ Top” – from the 80’s I presume!

Taking my fill of the face, I then switched to movie mode on the camera and filmed the entire tunnel from front to back as I made my way out. I am sure I missed a few interesting things, but that is why I keep going back to these mines over and over – you always see or discover something you missed before.

The jaunt back down the hill to the trail took all of 3 minutes, and I was soon bopping my way back down to the truck. As usual, I ended up hiking out in the dark, but THIS time my headlight worked! Turns out last weekend up at the Coney condensation built up in the light-head unit’s electronics and caused it to go haywire. A weeks worth of drying out did the trick. Nice to have it working well in this hike!

Take care friends!

Pictures of this hike can be viewed here:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/minehunter/sets/72157623199955269/

And finally, for those interested, the SPOT page for this trek can be viewed here (note, on this trek towards the end it looked like the coordinates where a little off):

http://share.findmespot.com/shared/faces/viewspots.jspglId=0Tg5ha16fWD3dRoWHb9XPnXj6ArO1gsgX

Coney Mine – January 23, 2010

2010-01-25T20:35:00.000-08:00

Hike Stats –

Distance: 9.87 Miles RT
Elevation Gain: 1954
Duration: 14 Hours Trail Time (no one said I was fast!)
Weather: Mild to Popsicle

Voluntarily waking up at 5:30am in the morning for ANY hike must mean this was a notable one. In this case, it was. The “Coney Mine,” located at the back of the Coney Basin up and just off the West Miller River proved to be a very hard mine to reach in the summer. Twice I tried, and twice I got so close I could see it. But alas, it was not meant to be – as the first one time ran out, and the second was a weather abort (lightening in the basin).

Not to mention that at ANY time of the year this would be a challenging hike. In the summer you deal with almost impenetrable vegetation and heat. In the winter, it’s the snow and ice. Add those factors to some pretty hefty elevation gains, and it equals quite a trek!

Taking all this into consideration, I decided that if I can’t make it in the summer, I might as well take a shot at it in the winter. And, since our weather around here lately has been unusually mild, this seemed the best time to go.

A few days earlier I started packing for a winter hike, adding important items that I don’t usually carry along such as snow shoes, extra gloves, and of course more hot chocolate! These and other new items weighed my pack down considerably, and I dreaded hauling it all over the mountains. But, turns out I packed it right, and it sat on my back very nicely the entire time.

So off I went, heading out US2 in the darkness of the pre-dawn hours finally hitting the trailhead and jumping off about 8am. From what I could see, I had the whole area to myself. Nice!

To say the area had transformed from a scenery standpoint would be an understatement. Gone where the towering Devils Club and dense Vine Maple of the summer, as well as the usually impenetrable bramble bushes and other vine-like vegetation. In their place was mostly open ground, and that allowed one to view areas you could not easily access during the summer months. This lack of greenery also tends to reveal old roads, artifacts, and routes that are normally well hidden.

I took my time, knowing I would need most of my energy later. The first mile of the trail was good, with little snow and ice. I stopped to check out a few things you don’t usually see out here, including what looks like a road where I had not seen one before. ‘Got to come back a check that out’ I thought to myself.

After a ways, I noticed my right foot kept slipping on the ice and wet rocks... I should say that, anticipating the worst, I brought along some cheap “no-slippy” things that attach to my boots much like crampons would. Friends, I cannot tell you how wonderful these worked on the moss/ice/rotten leaf – covered rocks along the trail! But, slip I did, and looking down I noted that one of the little bugger’s had escaped my boot. Damn! How far back down the trail had that happened?!?

Since I had become very attached that these things, I dropped my kit and went backtracking down the trail. Much to my delight, I found it in just a couple hundred. Whew! Little did I know how handy these would be coming back down the trail much later in the day… in the dark.

On that same stop, I finally decided to take off my glasses and stow them. They where fogging up so much that it became completely aggravating. I could still see well enough, but at least now it was not like I was looking out a fogged car window all the time. So much for anti-fog coating huh?

It was not long before I came to the oh so familiar “big tree” with the haul back tram cable still attached marking the cutoff spot for the King and Kinney Mine. So far so good. I said a little prayer for Tim Bell (a fallen hiker who’s memorial is nearby) and continued on up the trail.

Coming through what would normally in the summertime be the “tunnel of suffocating vegetation,” I was pleasantly surprised to find the route unencumbered by the usual equipment and clothing grabbing man-eating vines. Clearing the “green gauntlet” area I came to my first official rest stop about a 100 yards away from the cutoff into the basin – a place I call “The Diner,” and a nice location right off the road to sit back and rest.

I made it a point to pull off my SPOT satellite tracker and make sure it had a clear view of the sky so I could send a message stating all is well. At the same time I re-filled my water bottle, wolfed down a Hersey Big Bar, and planted myself on a log wondering when the feeling would return to my legs.

The SPOT, for those that do not know, is a little device that I carry so that those who want can track my movements in real time back home. How it works is this: the unit receives GPS data from several satellites, and then sends that data (along with your personal ID number) back up to another satellite. Then, once that satellite has this “packet” of data, it then sends it to a ground station. The ground station then feeds that into the internet, and a message goes to multiple email addresses and cell phones. This message includes my exact LAT/LONG, and provides a link to Google Maps. The recipient simply clicks on that message, and up pops Google maps showing where I am at. Very Cool!

In addition, it can also be used to call for help, and send “I’m OK” messages as well. Finally, it supports tracking. In this mode, it will send your location every 10 minutes, and this track can then be viewed on the devices tracking page. This allows the folks at home to know where you are, how long the trip is taking, and by calculation how long it will take you to get back to your starting point (or to your destination).

This, along with the professional EPRIB (aka PLB, as well as the 2-meter amateur radio) I carry would let me summon help if I needed it. It’s a nice to have, but no substitute for knowing the basics and being prepared out in the woods. But I digress….. back to the story.

After a short rest, I slung my pack back on and went to find the cutoff for the Coney Basin. Turns out it’s not that hard to find in the winter, as the old road cutting off to the right was very obvious (again, usually being covered in vegetation).

I started up the old road (and UP being the operative word here), making reasonably good time while gaining altitude. Very little snow or ice was present on the first half of the route, but it was not long after the first switchback that the snow started in earnest. Not much mind you, but just enough to make the going interesting.

Somewhere along the trail, off to the left, I noticed something that did not seem right. Down in a small gully was what looked to be a man-made object sitting up on a rock. Without my glasses on, and not having the time to shimmy down to the location, I took a long shot with my camera. It looked to be some sort of track (as in tank track), but the photo was not that good. Yet another item to come check out someday…..

Higher still I climbed, soon getting into the snow in a big way, and watching as the old road gave way to trail, just to give way to streambed, then nada. I was used to this having been up here a few times, but with the snow and things looking different than in the summer months, it was a little disorienting. Luckily the “flag Gods” had been at it, and I gleefully followed them up and into the upper camp. I say “gleefully” since for the time being the unrelenting elevation gain would peter out for a bit.

The first time you come up the trail (assuming you can FIND a trail), you will be greeted by a large steel object standing guard in the middle of your path. This massive item is an air-drill frame left over from the mine. It has been here for decades, and is good luck to give it a pat on the way by. Since I needed all the luck I could get, I gave it a few extra pats!

A couple hundred feet more brings you to the upper camp proper, home too many artifacts from the mine. Sinks, stove parts, unidentifiable contraptions, plates, and assorted other nick knacks. It’s nice to see that they are still here for others to enjoy, as so often they tend to “walk off” (not cool, by the way). This location would be the last one for hours where I would not be standing on snow and ice…..brrrr!

I left the island of dryness and forged ahead, and soon I was just out of the tree line looking at the basin chock full of snow and ice. I stopped to get some video, and I hoped to be able to see the mine adit from where I was. Alas, I could not, as the curtains of fog coming off the back basin wall made visibility extremely difficult. Drat! Well, only one way to see what’s back there right?

Off I went into the unknown, crunching over the snow pack in a zig-zag pattern trying to avoid any mini-crevasses, stream beds, or man-eating holes hidden just under snow. Luckily, the snow was firm enough to hold (in most places), so I did not have to break out the snowshoes (bonus!). Coupled with the fact I put on my gore-tex gaiters keep my feet nice and dry made the going almost (…almost…) pleasant.

About half way into the basin, I noticed off to the right the defined line of the old road that lead to the mine. I figured that it would save some time if I ascended to the old road. No so. Once I made it to the road, it was obvious that there were way more obstacles on what was left of the road than in the middle of the basin. I decided to run out the road anyways, picking a point on the back of the basin to shoot for.

The last ¼ of the trek (at the back of the basin) got very interesting. Once the road had run out, you end up ascending more and at a much steeper angle than one would think initially. Choosing an approach was tricky, but I finally chose the obvious one – do an ascending traverse to the left. Once the back of the basin is reached (as in the big vertical ice covered wall looming overhead), hang a right and ascend further up to a point across from where the mine might be.

Easier said than done….

On the first part of that final push I found myself on blue glacier-like ice covered in about 3” of snow. While not impossible to climb, it did make for some interesting moments. Words and phrases like, slip, ouch, OMG, my bum hurts, that’s gonna leave a mark all came to mind….

Eventually I got up to the wall, and started the parallel trek that would (hopefully) take me just across from the mine adit – the one I still can’t see by the way. I crossed a little snow bridge and hacked, clawed, and pushed my way up the snow and ice till I was across a gully from where the mine entrance should be. But, I STILL did not see any sign of it. Dang it, it HAD to be here. Was I going crazy? Snow Blind? Starbucks deficiently kicking in?!?

Just as I was about to loose hope and admit defeat once again, I remembered from the pictures I took last summer that at the back of the basin a long red stain “pointed” at the mine adit. As the fog cleared for a few minutes, I could just make out the “stain” on the wall, and it pointed to a little 6’ wide hole high up the hill. Bingo! That HAD to be it, and I HAD to find out. Just a 20’ climb down into the snow gully, cross the stream, and back up the snow and ice covered extremely high-angled hill and I would be there. Lets rock!

Rather undignified, I made my way carefully down and across the gully, and up the other side. I had visions of sliding down a little slope and finally seeing the mine! Yes, so close… it’s right here… it’s… IT’S!!!

What the hell is this?!? The words “bittersweet victory” came to mind.

Oh, I found the mine alright; the only problem is (I believe) I found the TOP of the stope that had been day-lighted to the surface. I was starring at stulls with wooden planks over them used to work the vein upwards. “Very cool” I thought, but the big payoff (exploring the mine) would have to wait till spring, as entering the mine from above would have been suicide considering (as best I could tell) that the mine floor itself was 30 or so feet down this little hole I was peering into. Game over for the day. I snapped off a few more pics, and, sliding down the ice to a flat spot just below the hole I prepared to depart.

Just then, a little micro-avalanche came down near me, and reminded me I was still on the side of a snow-covered mountain. Other than the far off sounds of falling water, it was other-worldly quiet up there.

I watched the snow start to fall in earnest, I heard a thunderous crash from a distance. It was a rock slide somewhere in the basin. I have never heard anything like it, but it split the air and the sound it made was like multiple explosions complete with big booms and long drawn-out rumbling. Weird thing was, I had no idea where it was coming from as I could not see any movement anywhere in the basin or on the hills.

Needless to say, I did not wait around for the next one. The snow was coming down harder, it was getting noticeably colder, and darkness was falling quickly. I followed my barely distinguishable footprints in the snow as I knew that was a safe route. The goals where to get away from the walls of the basin, descend safely off the steepest parts of hill, and get back to the tree line before I lost all usable light.

Coming off the high-angle part of the route, the ice was very hard, and getting traction was difficult. It was inevitable I would fall once or twice, so I picked areas of decent that if I DID start to slide the run-out would be object-free. Well you guessed it, down I went, sliding a good 60’ before running out into the soft snow. The next time I did this on purpose, and got off the worst part of the hill on no time. That was fun!

Now thought, I still had a ton of snowy terrain to cross. I also noticed that the snow seemed to have gotten softer since I came up, as I started to post-hole every once in awhile (ie foot and leg break through the top layer of snow and ice). Extraction of the leg was sometimes iffy, as my energy level was dropping with each step. My goal was to make it to the woods, and rest there.

By the time I reached the tree-line, it was dark. The moon was peeking dully through the cloud layer, but at least I was back on ground I knew pretty well. The next move was to get to the upper camp site and prepare for the trek out. In the woods now lighting was mandatory, so I unhooked my hard hat with my ever-faithful Princeton-Tex high intensity LED headlamp attached, and took out my mine-exploring primary light - the Princeton-Tek Torrent Xenon as a backup. Hell yea!

I fired up the headlamp and prepared to go. But wait? What’s this? My ever-faithful headlamp just took a break? Not good… and not now! A few minutes of fiddling, and I managed to get it working very dimply. Unfortunately, with needing both hands for the trekking poles, the headlamp was essential. Damn! This is going to slow me down…..

Side note: This is why people that explore mines carry multiple light sources. Imagine your only light going out while exploring a mine… Well, it’s the same out here. There would be no chance of getting off the mountain in the dark. That is why I carry 4 lights. But unfortunately, I only carry only one headlamp. Go figure.

I said a little prayer, packed up and started crunching through the snow towards the camp. I had to stop in a few places to make sure I was following my tracks and heading in the right direction. Even with lights it kind of all looks the same in the dark. Oh sure, I could have used my GPS… but that would have been too easy. (-;

Also, overshadowing all this was the thought that my SO may be concerned, and may not know (if the SPOT was not working for example) what my status was. So I pulled out my 2-meter amateur radio and attempted to bring up someone on the repeater to relay a message that I was OK just running very late. No dice. I was making it to the repeater, but no one was answering. Not a good sign.

Side Note: Turned out the SPOT worked perfectly, and my SO was able to track me every step of the way. Cool!

Reaching the camp, I resigned myself that it was going to take MUCH longer to get off the mountain than I had planned. With reduced light out in front of you, each movement had to be checked before you make it, since the decent from the camp is over moss-covered rocks, logs, trees, through streams (not to mention the snow) etc. In comparison, if this was an open obstacle-free path, minimal lighting would have worked. But this was like walking through your living room barefoot in the dark and realizing that the kids had not put away the Legos. Ouch… or worse.

Then, just as I was about to pull out backup light number 3 and duct tape it to my helmet, a miracle happened. My headlamp not only started to work, but it locked onto the brightest setting available… and would not go off it! A miracle!

I would like to think that the Man upstairs was listening, and the gentle ghosts of miners past where watching over me that night. In either case, thank you!

With ample light now, I started the trek back down to the main trail, and out to the truck. While it was cold, dark, and a little wet – the run back to the trailhead was uneventful. I reached the truck at 10:10pm, a full 14 hours on the trail.

While reaching the mine was indeed bittersweet, I can say that is was very much worth the effort. With each hike I get to see a little more of our history, learn something new, and get out and enjoy the great Pacific Northwest.

I am already packing for the next one…. Lets see, where to now? (-:

Thanks for reading!

You can see the pictures from this hike at the following link:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/minehunter/sets/72157623154497819/

The following link is for my SPOT page. Feel free to have a look! It has the last 30 days worth of tracking info on it. Hint: When you bring up the map, look for the “Terrain” button in the upper right hand corner of the screen. It will give you the “Topo” version of the map. Enjoy!

http://share.findmespot.com/shared/faces/viewspots.jsp?glId=0Tg5ha16fWD3dRoWHb9XPnXj6ArO1gsgX

Silver Creek - Leg Stretch 2010

2010-01-22T09:54:00.000-08:00

Howdy!

It’s been a long time since I was able to throw the pack on a get back up into the mountains. So, with the mild weather we have been having, and the lack of snow in the mountains, I figured it would be a great time to “stretch the muscles” a bit!

I must admit I am cheating a little bit, as the following is an email I sent to a friend about the hike. But, it makes for a nice little blog post as well…..

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Well, my hike went pretty well over the weekend. The weather cooperated and stayed dry and somewhat sunny, with temperatures in the mid to lower 40’s. Very little snow and ice on the ground, and that made it easy to push farther up the trail.

Since this was my first hike in awhile (and the first of the year), I tried to keep the distance and elevation gains down a bit. Be that as it may, I ended up going about 12.5 miles round trip, with about 700’ of elevation gain. Not bad for someone who gained WAY too many pounds over the holidays.

A few of my friends came along also, but the first had to turn back after about ¾ of a mile since his foot started to hurt (he had surgery on it months before). Better to turn back than be stuck out there. The second friend stayed with me, but at the 3 mile mark wanted to turn back also. I told him the truck awaits, and that he could play cards with friend number one till I got back. LOL. I think his pride was in jeopardy, so he continued with me farther up the trail. However, I think he was ready to lie down and die by the time he made it back to the truck 6 hours later. The last 2 miles where hiked in pitch blackness with a billion stars over our heads. Very cool!

Another reason I wanted to keep this hike a little mellow was my knee “issue.” On the last hike of 2009, my knee started to hurt, and I turned back and headed down the trail. Since that time it has been giving me mild issues. I finally went into the doctor and had it x-rayed. Turns out the knee itself is fine, but something in the bone above the knee gave them concern. So today I get an MRI, and tomorrow I have a bone scan. Hopefully it will be nothing (I won’t know till the 8th of February or so). But, the good news is the hike did not make it any better or worse, so in my book that’s a good thing! (-: I have been sore though for a few days!

The area we hiked into is called “Silver Creek,” and it one of my favorite places to go. The scenery is stupendous, and there is always something new to see. Unfortunately, on this trip we found something we don’t like to see in the woods… another memorial to a fallen hiker.

About a week after I took my last hike into this area in 2009 I found out that a hiker died in a fall on the very same trail the week after I was up there. I did not know exactly where, but on this trip a new cross with a photo attached, as well as a framed photo attached to a small bridge greeted us on the trek.

When I got back home, I did some checking and found out that this gentleman fell from that very bridge last October, and he was able to make it another 200 yards to one of my favorite places to take pictures on that trail. There he died, bleeding to death internally long before Search and Rescue could get to him. Very sad, but a fact of life up in the mountains… you are on your own when you hike.

When I pass those spots from now on I will be saying a little prayer for him and his family. Unfortunately, this is not the only place I have to say prayers, as I find a new memorial or grave about once a year up there.

On a brighter note, the hike went well, and I was able to scout out some routes for future hikes. If all goes well, I will be hiking again this Saturday trying to make it to a mine that I failed to reach twice before last summer and fall. This one is high up, and takes almost half a day just to get near it. I will not push it too hard, but to reach this area in the winter would be sweet! It all depends on how much snow is in the higher elevations and what (if any) the avalanche danger is in the basin.

Anyway, I have rambled long enough! I have posted some pictures on my Flickr page, and will hopefully post some video later on. Since I have been up in the area many times, I tried not to take the same shot over again that I have before. Therefore, this time there are not as many shots as I would have normally taken.

You can look at them here.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/minehunter/sets/72157623118956491/

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Take care all, and I will try and post another trip report after this Saturday’s hike (January 23rd, 2010).

(-:

Index Bornite Mine

2009-09-21T15:23:00.000-07:00

I have wanted to trek up to this mine for years, so a few Sundays ago I threw the pack in the “Mine Mobile” and headed out to see if I could bag it!

Up past all the familiar landmarks and towns I drove until I got to the Index/Galena Road (IGR) off US2. My goal was to find the correct bridge over Lewis Creek as I have noted over the years there are no less than three bridges marked with “Lewis Creek” over IGR. My hunch was it was the last one about 2.6 miles in since that bridge is the only one to have a non-private turnout with a big gate beyond.

Parking on the gravel, I checked my equipment and started hiking up the road - slowly but evenly gaining elevation while soaking up the sunshine. With every turn and switchback the views down-valley towards Index became more and more spectacular, when before I knew it I was about where the old road should be (about a mile in at 1300 feet). But I did not immediately see where the old road could be.
Poking around a bit, I came to a place that looked like a “turnoff” to the right. Could this be it? Stepping back a few paces and taking it all in, it was obvious this was a “turn-around” for trucks, rather than a “turnoff” - as what was once a road now loomed in front off me all covered in ferns, brambles, and Devils Club. Ahhh, the joys of bushwhacking!

Grabbing a quick drink from my overpriced but ever-faithful REI 15ml Nalgene holster-mounted bottle, I started to thrash my way up the “road” keeping a close eye out for the cabin site.

The going was not too bad and I got up to the spot about where the cabin site was supposed to be. I went left up a little hill to a flat spot with a couple of parallel logs and figured this must be the place. But, while the location seemed to fit, no cabin remnants could be found and I pressed on.

Farther up the “road” I came upon a set of double flags off to the right. Since the “road” seemed to abruptly end, and the narrative stated to look for a trail off to the right, I better take a look. But I surmised, it all did not add up. It had not even been close to a half mile, and I was nowhere near the creek. Hmmm.

Forgetting the flags, I went looking for any rabbit trails at the end of road that would indicate another direction. Soon I found one, heading off to the left (good) that soon re-gained the road (even better)! Along the road I continued, roughly staying at the same elevation, and heading towards the creek that could now be heard in the distance.

Soon I came to another abrupt end. Could THIS be it? Taking a look around, I found some large cable buried in the ground, a few chokers, some nice looking multicolored basketball-sized rocks on the trail, and what, finally, I assumed to be the “end” of the road.

Looking for the trail that goes “up valley” I was pleasantly surprised to find a flag or two indicating I was heading in the right direction. Up I went, looking for more flags as I gained altitude.

The flags came and went, eventually changing color to green (green flags… go figure) to the ever-popular bright pink, and every shade in between. Funny thing was most of the flagging seemed pretty old. How long since the last person had been here anyway?

On I went, until eventually the “trail” ran out along with the flags roughly 100’ above the creek. Now what? Well let’s see, the book says the mine should be at the base of a long set of rapids (thanks vol. 1). I can see some waterfalls, but no rapids per se.

It also states that when you get to the end of the trail (if I HAD a trail), and hop down to a landing (no trail… no landing), look right and you will see the adit. #$%#! Well, I figured that it has to be somewhere in here, so I made a bee line down the hill to the creek bead and starting heading up-stream.

Over the rocks, falls, and various assort other obstacles I went until I got close to the first of the little waterfalls. I could see that the terrain (like all the areas we go) probably changes every season. What once were rapids could now be falls I pondered.

I continued up, still looking for the “trail” or “landing” when suddenly I saw (as usual) something off to the right that did not belong…. black goo coming off a little ledge. Could it be?? Up a few more boulders and before me in all its glory was the lower adit of the Index Bornite! “Yea babyyyyy!”

My first thought was ‘why the hell did I wait this long to visit this mine’ followed by ‘oh boy, oh boy, oh boy.. something new to explore!’ I sat down and took in my surroundings, shot off a few pics, had some lunch, and geared up to go in.

The mine seemed in fine shape, with no rock falls visible in the main tunnel. The first thing I noticed was the strap rail. Was this not a production mine, or did they just not get around to it? Strange as I have seen mines with less workings install proper rail.

Moving slowly and carefully along the main tunnel I came across the left-hand drift. It seemed stable enough and in I went. I would mention at this point this is NOT a place for people with an aversion to tight spaces, as this drift is pretty narrow. But the vein is very defined and it’s straight as an arrow to the back.

There are numerous stulls along the way, some holding up planks, that one would do well ducking under. The drift continues for quite a ways (more than I would have guessed) until towards the back you need to squeeze past some wooden planks. A few feet further and the drift seems to end where rock and dirt has fallen into the drift from above, and the stoping angles up and out of sight (at least from were I was standing). I was not about to push my luck to get a better view.

I say >seems< to end, since if you shine your light just so along the left side of the drift, it appears that it does go back farther. While my curiosity is strong, you can count me out of the excavation and exploration crew to find out for sure. (-:

Returning to the main tunnel, I continued towards the back passing several very short tunnels on both sides, along with rotten wood, a few steel artifacts (containers), and other various junk. One drift on the right side held an interesting item on a little ledge – a few small parts of a stick of dynamite with the fuse still stuck in the end. What a blast! More fuse remnants where below that, and I stopped to (very carefully) take a few pics.

Farther back more side tunnels appeared, and eventually I came across a newer-looking 5 gallon can on the floor. Just above that were two cans perched on a stull near the ceiling. But wait… what was that in the top of the big can? My excitement mounted as I wondered what treasure I could have discovered. A slip from a box of caps? A turn of the century shipping label?

No…. something even more strange…. a business card from NWUE! Oh nooooo… they got here before me!!! Those guys are EVERYWHERE! (-:

Choking back my obvious disappointment as not being the first one to bag this mine (right Mark.. in your dreams), I went the short distance to the face at the back of the tunnel where one can see the drill holes getting ready for the next shot that will never come. (If you look close, someone threw a dime back in one of the holes, and a nice steam of water comes out another).

Making my way back out into the sunshine, I was hit by the heat of the day 20’ before exiting the tunnel, completely satisfied at another mine bagged. But, I was not done yet. There was the shaft up the hill somewhere, as well as the upper adit as well. Gathering my equipment and downing some additional water, I decided to venture up to see if I could find at least the shaft up on the “ridge.” The problem was, which “ridge,” in what direction, and how high?

Following the directions in volume one, I headed up the left side of the cliffs above the lower adit and hoped for the best. Reaching the first flat spot, I looked up the rest of the hill and thought twice about venturing farther up. Was it on the ridge still above me by 600’ or so feet? If so, it’s a no go. Besides, why would someone build a shaft that far away and that high? It was not making much sense to me when I finally looked over to the left and saw (as usual) something that did not belong.

Hmmm, a big pile of “stuff” that has no reason being there, and rocks that don’t seem to have come from the slope above it. Could this be a tailings pile perhaps.

I climbed up the mystery pile and low and behold there was the shaft, ringed with little flags of every color that cannot be seen from below. Several trees had fallen over the opening, and what appeared to be an original cross-member was still in place with a nail sticking out of it.

Heeding the warning about the rotten collar, I carefully made my way over to the right side where a very sturdy tree had fallen just along the edge of the hole. And, while keeping a death-grip on another tree I peered over the side….

The shaft is dirt on all sides about 6’ to 8’ down, then the wooden cribbing for the sides starts lower down. The cribbing looks in good shape, with the water line about 6’ to 8’ down from the top of the cribbing. Overall, it’s about 20’ down, and would not be a fun time if anyone happened to unknowingly step into this by chance. As the book states, it would be impossible to get back out without a rope and some help.

Satisfying my curiosity fully for the shaft, I slung my pack back on and headed down the hillside till I found the flag line. It was a quick march back to the “road” and to the cabin site. But this time, coming the other way, I found some artifacts just off the trail (but virtually hidden in the brush) that indeed confirmed I was right about the cabin site on the way up.

Soon I was back at the truck, and heading back to civilization. Besides, I had to make it to the Mountain View Café before they closed to feast on a celebratory dinner for another mine bagged!

Pictures for this trip can be seen at:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/minehunter/sets/72157622368838552/

Mine Hunter “Basic Training”

2009-09-09T13:44:00.000-07:00

My friend’s 9 year old daughter wanted to accompany me on one of my hikes and become a “Mine Hunter.” As we all know a more prestigious title one cannot obtain! So a few Saturdays ago we aimed our compasses and GPS towards the King and Kinney Mine (K&K) and set off in search of adventure. Did she make it? Read on fellow Hunters…..

It was with great anticipation that I picked up “Emily” at her home in stately Edmonds. I was met at the door by a bubbly, highly excited bundle of energy who could not wait to “get up there” and hit the trail. Before we left, I made sure she had her parts of the “10 Essentials” (in this case a change of clothes) as my credit card and REI provided the rest. Emily had never been on a hike, or up in the mountains like this, so it was all new for her and I wanted to make sure she was equipped properly.

I dug out an small old pack and the rest of the essentials snagged at REI with the idea of teaching her about each item as we took breaks on the trail. This, along with what to do in various emergency situations out in the woods, would have her ready in no time if the worst did indeed happen… getting lost.

She decided to add a few items that were not on the essentials list such as a bathing suit, drink mix, and some kind of candy made with enough sugar to OD even the most tolerant sweet tooth (mine included). All the comforts of home!

McDonalds in Woodinville was the first stop to buck up on some chow since our next dining experience would be in the woods. After feasting on that wonderful meal, we where soon on our way up Highway 2 towards our “provisioning center” – the Family Grocer in Gold Bar. It has almost become a ritual to stop at this place before a hike up US2 whether you need supplies or not. To pass this shrine of food by without paying homage at the register would be bad karma.

We grabbed some lunch items with an eye on quality and threw in some chocolate bars as well. This, coupled with our vitamin enhanced, fortified, and electrolyte balanced drink additives we were all set!

Up through the little towns we went, singing songs and taking in the sights. Soon we arrived at the cutoff to the Money Creek Campground and then onto Miller River road. A large dust storm was created behind the “Mine Mobile” as we headed up the gravel path. The weather was perfect and we had the “parking area” to ourselves.

No sooner than the truck came to a stop the kid jumped out of the rig and started to gear up:

Pack Ready – Check!
Boots Laced Correctly – Check!
Water at the Ready – Check!
Emergency Radios On – Check!

Now my friends, I have to tell you that this is the first time I have taken one so young on a mine hike. Because of this, I learned a few things as well such as if you have radios along, and a 9 year old is on the other end of one, ALL communications, regardless of whether you are 2 feet or 200 feet apart MUST go through the radios. “Your kidding.. right?” I said in that tone. “Yes… for real!” she replied (through the radio of course). Oooookkkk. Thank goodness I charged the batteries.

Soon we where cruising up the trail, with Emily in front and me tagging along close behind. We stopped and looked at some neat stuff along the way such as various plants, slugs, rocks, and blow downs. I explained how the rings on the trees indicated how old it was, what the orange fungus growing on a stump was there for, and how to avoid the various things that can make you uncomfortable out in the woods if you are not careful (nettles, Devils Club, etc.). She soaked it all in and asked lots of questions. Good girl!

At our first stop about a ¼ mile up the trail, we took a few minutes to pull items out of her pack and find out how to work them. Refilling water bottles, how to use a pocket knife, emergency food, and at that first stop how to safely light a hurricane match. Little did I know until she told me just before pulling the box out that she had never lit a match before. Wow, old school lesson here! I told her the safe way to light it, that you can light these matches even if they are wet, and what to do with it when she was done. She followed my instructions and lit one off.

Ladies and Gentlemen, if you could go back in time to the caveman days, and be present when they first discovered how to make fire, the look on their faces would exactly match the look on Emily’s face when that match fired off. “Woooooowwww” she exclaimed, and promptly reached for another to “test,” then another, then another. I suppose she just >had< to make sure they worked right. Either way, lesson learned! We quickly threw the packs back on and headed farther up the trail.

We rested often, and she took to hydrating herself at every stop. I did not have to remind her, and in a way she reminded me to drink more as well. The kid was doing great, and soon we where at the pre-determined lunch stop about half way up notorious “Bowling Ball Alley.” We cut off the trail and out onto the rocks in the middle of the river. In addition to lunch, she was jazzed we might have a swim as well. I warned her that it might be a little cold, but she was determined to try.

Out came the lunches and with nature and beauty all around us we lounged on the boulders eating Lunchables (not my usual trail food, but what the heck), sipping juice boxes, and dining on slightly melted chocolate bars. As usual, everything just seemed to taste better out there.

One of the reasons I chose this spot is that just one week before the water was 2 feet higher and a nice pool had formed for swimming. Not so today as it was dry as heck out. I boulder-hopped about 100’ up river and found another suitable (and deeper) pool. Bush-basing back out to the main trail I marked the spot with a stick and came back down the rocks to our lunch stop. We quickly packed up and headed to our private pool in the woods.

After changing, it was time to test the water. She slowly dipped a foot in and announced it was pretty cold. Then it was my turn….. holy mama! She is not kidding! This is much colder than I expected. But, undaunted, she started to make her way on the rocks over to a cool little waterfall as I took as few pictures of our antics. Then, I took the plunge, swimming across the pool towards the falls with my teeth chattering the whole way. We stayed there for a few minutes – and while I swam back, she decided to take the high road and walk the rocks again back to our packs.

She was just about 5 feet from the falls when she slipped and went halfway in. Poor kid looked like she was participating in the Polar Bear Plunge! She fought a little to get her footing (I was only 10’ away dear readers, so she was not in any danger), and finally stood up. She was obviously cold, but she did not complain a bit. One tough kid!

She again made her way along the rocks and was soon toweling off. We both agreed that it was too cold to swim properly, and that we would try again someday when it was warmer. We changed, threw the packs back on, the headed out towards the King and Kinney Mine still about ¾ of a mile away.

Higher up the route we climbed, crossing small streams and washouts until the “big tree” loomed just off the trail. We stopped at Tim Bell’s memorial and I explained why it was there. I also pointed out the cable attached to the tree and mentioned that on the other end of it is the very mine we where heading to. We proceeded to the base of the hill, stashed our hiking sticks, and prepared to ascend.

Now, to experienced Mine Hunters (and anyone else that can judge angles), this would be considered a much-more-than-moderate hill to climb up. To a 9 year old however, it must have looked like Everest. Undaunted though, we started our assent through the relatively open forest. Emily was apprehensive at first, but then started to get the hang of it; put one foot up, plant it, grab something, test it, put weight on it, then pull yourself up… repeat as needed. There were a few moments that required a helping hand from the Sherpa (me) for some vertical assist – but other than that she made it slowly up the hill in a way that would have made Sir Edmund Hillary proud!

We gained about 200+ feet of elevation when my gut told me to start moving to the right and up a little higher. When I thought we where at the right elevation, we started to contour at the same elevation to the NE, staying about 60’ above the jungle. About another 200’ of careful trekking and we saw the pile of pipes, then the air compressor. Bingo! When I pointed out she had just made it to her first mine site, you could have driven a truck through the grin on her face! Too cool!

Looking at my watch, we did not have a lot of time. Based on how long it took us to get up the trail, and how long it took to climb up to the mine, I figured we had about 20 minutes here. That would give us enough time to get back down to town and make the call we are ok as we were due to check in at a certain time. We needed to be quick, but you know what they say about the best laid plans.

Little did I know that a safety system we have had in place for years was about to kick in and be tested……

We got to the compressor area, looked around a bit, and took a few pictures. Then it was time for Emily to see her first mine. Up the tailings pile we went, checking out the artifacts along the way. Then, just like that, she saw the big dark adit, and quickly decided she was NOT going in without my hard hat on (I would have it no other way kiddo!).

Out came the lights, the hardhat went on the noggin, and in we went. Emily was a little freaked out at the mine, but she did eventually go in about 30 feet. She found a nice “island” on a block of wood to stand on and just took it all in. I told her I was going to check out the mine since I had not been up here in awhile. She was fine with that, as long as I DID NOT go past the first turn. “Ok, ok, I will stay in sight kiddo – don’t worry.”

So around the first turn I peeked, seeing if any further rock had come off the ceiling (looked clean), and then made my way back. Emily stayed on “Isle K&K” the whole time patiently waiting for me to slosh back through the water. A few more shots with the camera and we left the adit – but not before she got a little water in her boots.

Back out in the sunshine, I was concerned with her hiking down with wet feet, so off came the boots so we could drain them, get a change of socks, and wring out her now wet pant cuffs (studded with little rhinestones no less – hey, got to make a fashion statement even in the woods… right?).

Time and distance were now working against us. It was a little after 5pm, and we are due to check in at about 6:00pm. “Still doable” I said to myself as I slung my pack back on and made sure she was ready for the decent. A little late is OK. But, at this point my friends, things got a little dicey.

We moved slowly back across the mountain, but I noticed Emily was being much more cautious and hesitant as we went. Then, when we actually started to go down, she hesitated even more as now she could SEE the angle of the hill we had come up. If you have never experienced this, it is FAR easier to come up these things than to get back down. Thus, our decent turned into a long, slow, and very careful operation with the “Sherpa” watching her every move and assisting with most every step.

This slowed things down considerably. However, I did not want to push her or make her feel rushed. This is supposed to be a fun and relaxing challenge - not a thing to be feared. So, we took it one step at a time, picking our route carefully and making sure neither one of us went for an unexpected slide down the mountain. Unfortunately, the decent alone took well over an hour. Yikes.

Meanwhile back at “Base Camp” in little old Woodinville, “Rescue Babe” Leesa was eyeing the clock and wondering why she had not heard from us. She knows that:

A. I planned to check in no later than 6pm.
B. It was now about 6pm.
C. This is not like me.
D. I have the kid on her first hike.
E. Uh Oh.

On most every hike, I leave a detailed trip plan and never deviate from it. UTM’s of the jump off and hike areas, check in windows, frequencies being monitored, and even emergency contact information of anyone with me is listed on that sheet. I also carry a 2-meter amateur radio, PLB, and sometimes the SPOT satellite unit that would have saved the day. But alas, the SPOT was not activated at the time, and repeaters that cover that area are almost non-existent.

She knew that the PLB had not been activated, SAR had not been called, and my cell phone was still off. That pretty much meant to her that we where still up the trail and not down in town. Her fear was I possibly had hurt myself, and Emily did not know what to do. Otherwise, being a little overdue was no big deal. But this was different, I had the kid with me, so the anxiety level was naturally increased.

If I do not check in within a certain time, she will then start making preparations as the time window passes. Out of dozens and dozens of hikes, this had only happened twice before (getting down very late), but this was turning into number three. As 6pm came and went, she was not only calling our friends for advice, but getting calls from Emily’s mom and dad wondering what’s up. She had to make a decision and make it fast as usable light was going away.

She decided to call a fellow hiking buddy, Jeff, who knew the trail and the route to the mine. He did not hesitate when he got the call. Grabbing his pack, he hi-tailed it over to Woodinville, linked up with Leesa, and up 522 they went. The plan was to go to the trailhead. If my truck was still there, Jeff would start up the trail, and Leesa would head back down and call the authorities. Further, several other friends were then contacted and they started monitoring the SAR repeaters just in case.

While all this was going on, Emily and I made it back down to the trail, grabbed our hiking sticks, and started heading out. I was highly aware the time window had passed, and I could only hope that a full-scale SAR mission had not been launched yet. Emily, thank goodness, was tired but still having a great time. For that matter so was I! We rested often, as the hard part was quickly approaching… “Bowling Ball Alley.”

For those not familiar with “Bowling Ball Alley,” it’s a name given by one of the other Mine Hunters to a roughly ¼ mile stretch of trail that is littered with rocks ranging in size from pebbles to boulders. There is really no other way to go than rock-hopping along, and that we did… slowly. Unfortunately, there is no other way to do it. One false move and spraining an ankle (or worse) is a real possibility. Emily did a fantastic job, and only stumbled once. This kid is a natural!

We made it to the “big tree in the middle of the trail” that marks (thankfully) the end of the worst of the trail. We rested on a blow-down across the trail, and after getting some more water we set off to finish the trek.

Meanwhile, Leesa and Jeff had made it Monroe and had turned East on US2. They where making good time, but they still have not heard any word. With every mile their concern grew, since it was now approaching 7pm, a full hour past check-in. Leesa also knew that if darkness fell, launching any kind of a search mission would become problematic. To them, it did not look good.

Back on the trail, my GPS was clicking off the distance down to the truck, which I was now required to relay to the point person Emily (ONLY through the radio I might add). Finally, we only had 200 feet to go, and I had to remind my young charge that you can get hurt 200 feet from the truck just as easily as two miles.. “so be careful kiddo” I gently relayed through the radio. But I could tell there was a certain zing in her steps even after that long grueling slog. Could it be her sense of accomplishment? The pride she feels at now being an official Mine Hunter? The coolness of getting to see something most people will never see? Perhaps.

But, more likely it’s the milk shake and real food promised earlier once we get back to civilization. At that point in our adventure, I wholeheartedly agreed!

The packs came off, and the rig started up. We took off down the road determined to get to Big Bend (where Sprint cell service starts) about 6 miles or so down US2. Out Miller River Road, past the Tyvek mansion, across the railroad tacks, past the campsite, across the river, and left on 2. Yea haw… we West bound and down!

Soon, we came into cell coverage and my phone exploded with text and voice messages. I instructed my co-pilot to call her parents first and let them know she is ok. I also spoke with them to bring them up to speed on why we where so late. Then, I called Leesa who had just entered Sultan heading east. Whew!

Since the Mountain View Café in Gold Bar (unofficial Mine Hunter’s chow hall) was probably closed, we decided to meet at the McDonalds along US2. Soon we were pulling into the parking lot and walking in the doors to a very happy Leesa and Jeff, who proceeded to hug the wits out of Emily and I! So happy was Leesa to see us safe she took a cell phone picture of me and the kid and sent it off to all involved to prove we where indeed safe. And, finally, with much fanfare, Emily got her milkshake. All was right in her world!

It was a fantastically fun hike for both of us. She learned volumes about being safe out in the woods, what do to if you get lost, that’s it’s a wonderful place to have some fun, and became a full-fledged Mine Hunter to boot! It was an honor to be on her first hike and I am extremely proud of her!

As for me, I learned that when kids are involved on a hike, build LOTS of extra time into the plan… and charge the radio batteries… fully.

Thanks for reading all!

Mark (-:

Pictures for this hike can been seen at:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/minehunter/sets/72157622231149958/

Ethel Mine part Deux – “Return to Bee Mountain”

2009-08-18T15:41:00.000-07:00

Ethel Mine part Deux – “Return to Bee Mountain” – 08-15-09

If you will recall from your history lessons, it took Howard Carter over 6 years of searching before he finally uncovered King Tut’s burial chamber way back in November of 1922. I am beginning to understand how Carter must have felt… getting so close but not quite making it to the goal. Read on fellow adventures….

This weekend’s hike will be filed with the two or three others this year under “damn, missed it by that much!”

The weather was cooperating with nothing nasty in the forecast, so it was the perfect time to try and climb that wonderful mountain once again. On this trek I was accompanied by one of my hiking buddies – “Jeff” - who, while not to crazy about the mines loves any excuse to get out in the woods.

We got to IGR relatively early, checked our gear, and where soon trekking overland to the crossing point on the Skykomish River. The river was a little higher than last time (recent rains), but totally manageable to cross.

After reaching the other side, we made our way up the now familiar route crossing the Excelsior - eventually ending up at the lower cabin. We stopped for a leisurely bite and little rest before the marathon mountain climb later.

Before we started up, however, Jeff wanted to see the tram wheel I found last weekend. I started low once again and walked the line where I knew I would run into the wheel eventually. But wait, what’s this? Another shaft protruding from under the blanket of vegetation? Could it be? “Yeaaaaa baby” I exclaimed as a SECOND bull wheel is located just 50 feet from the first one.

We quickly cleared the massive steel frame of falls, moss, and weeds – eventually exposing the entire wheel into the sunlight for the first time in God knows how long. This one was a little bigger (by Jeff’s calculations), and had some writing forged into the steel. “Golden State and Miners Iron Works” was faintly visible at two places on the outer edge. Very cool!

Of course the questions started to flow immediately; was this wheel the one from up top? If so, how (and why) did they drag it down here? Was this part of another tramway from another adit? Was it part of the lower where they needed two wheels for some reason? We could only speculate.

Finishing up at the two wheels, we started the long and not-so-level hike UP the mountain. The route was easy to follow as the forest is open for the most part, but as you get higher, the angle increases significantly. At some points your calves are just dying for a flat spot to rest! But alas, they are few a far between until the top.

Somewhere up there among the beauty and splendor of the forest I managed to hyperextend my right knee. I’m not sure where, or when, but it started hurting and got worse the father up I went. Greaaaat.

Despite my aching knee, we made it to the upper cabin site for some much needed rest. The bee’s had not bothered us on the way up, and I was certainly not going to go check on my buddies that stung me last weekend. We took a few more pictures and a little video – then slung our packs back on the headed farther up the valley following the old “road/trail/rabbit path.”

My knee was cooperating so far and everything was going along pretty good. We where looking forward to seeing the adit just above the creek bed, then trying to locate the upper adits if time allowed.

But, that would be too easy…

After about 10 minutes of hiking, we came to a spot where we had to make some choices. Directly in front of us was a large talus pile covered in Vine Maple, Devils Club, sticker bushes, and Nettles… not to mention the moss-covered talus boulders hiding the 10’ drops between the rocks. Basically “Hades Garden.”

Off to the right side and a little ways back was a “path” that seemed too led down to the creek and under the garden. Unfortunately, at that point the “path” was not much more than a near-vertical slide 120’ down to the rocks. That route would require some serious vine rappelling with no guarantee of access up the valley to the mine

Of the left and 200-300’ above that was a tree line that could offer a way around the garden, circumventing the talus rock slide – but again no guarantee of access and a heck of a slog uphill just to get to that point.

With no easy way to go (is there ever?) – and with a bum knee the answer was obvious… bag it and come back yet another day. So close, yet so far will be my nickname I’m sure! But to go any father and taking a risk inuring the knee even more was just not worth it.

So, down the hill we go, past wheels, past the cabin, scoot across the mill site, make the creek and river crossing, and out to the truck. But, other than the knee, a fun day up in the mountains once again!

Pictures for this little hike can be seen at:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/minehunter/sets/72157622067371702/

Take care all, and be safe out there!

Ethel Mine Area Trip Report - 08-08-09

2009-08-18T15:36:00.000-07:00

“Ethel Mine and the Yellow Jackets of Doom!”

At least that’s what I would call this hike if I was writing a screenplay. An otherwise easy hike turned into a stinging nightmare high up the mountain. Read on my friends…..

This last Saturday I found myself again unencumbered by projects, so I threw my trusty pack into the “Mine Mobile” and headed out to the Ethel Mine area. It has been years since I had visited the vast uncharted territory across the Skykomish, and with the little amount of rain we have had lately I thought it would be an excellent time to try and ford the river.

Apprehension built the closer I got to the jump-off point on IGR at Trout Creek. Would I be able to find a path across without going swimming? Could I get back in the dark if I stayed late? Would Greenpeace roll me back into the water if they found me on the shoreline? I had to find out!

Parking, I threw on my pack and surveyed the area. The place we crossed years ago (just above Trout Creek) is now private property, with a bus parked there, sani-cans, and a big shiny new gate. What the heck? Looks like one of the river raft companies has set up camp for the summer and posted a million no-trespassing signs. So much for crossing there.

I now set my sights on where the river took out the road, and found the streams there very manageable. Time to get my new boots soaked – and with that I plunged into the raging torrent, thrashing my way across the foaming churning water to the other side… three feet distant. Whew! Made it!

Moving to the Northwest on the island, I found a nice flag trail that took me across other little streams, and onto the dry wash before the main river crossing. So far, so good, and now I was sufficiently pumped to cross the mighty Skykomish River. Lets see: cool boots? Check! Hiking stick for stability? Check! Life vest? Ummm… get back to me on that…

I am ready. Into the river I go, prepared for the unyielding current to pull relentlessly at my body. Hiking pole downstream, one foot at a time – make it solid, then move, then one, then other, deeper still!!!!! Will I make it!?! Ahhhh, yea…. turns out my bathtub is deeper than this sucker right now - but a small victory nonetheless!

Onto the other shore I wad and up I go. After getting my bearings, I decided to ascend right up the hill, then Northwest again up an old overgrown road, finally turning due West roughly across where I thought the old mill site access would be. Turns out I hit it dead on, but unlike years ago, Excelsior Creek had now split into three channels at that point. The first I crossed was wet, followed by a dry creek bed, and then by the original channel (wet). Low and behold, I found some flags, and ended up at the exact same spot I crossed years ago. Damn I’m good!

Following the creek crossing was the usual slog through Devils Club, Blackberry Bushes, and Nettles until I got to the mill site road – coming in just below the site itself. I started finding artifacts immediately, and since I had plenty of time I took a copious amount of pictures.

After scouting out the mill site I headed up the “road” (as usual, in name only) to the lower cabin site. After a few minutes of poking around on the way up, I came to the newer style cabin next to the main haulage adit. Amazing, since upon examination, it looks exactly like it did years ago. All the items that where there on my last visit are there now exactly like they where. This is a good thing to, ‘cause if there were easy access to this area I don’t believe the building would even be standing.

After taking some pictures I sat down on the picnic table and had some lunch. What a novelty to be able to do that in the woods! I half expected a waiter to come ask for my order, but alas I was destined to eat a soggy sandwich and drink warm, environmentally friendly, electrolyte enhanced water. Yum!

Finishing up with my feast, I went to check out the main haulage adit. The last time I was here it was boarded up in such a way that it would have taken someone many hours to do. It was not haphazardly applied, nor was it put on really with the intent to keep someone out. To be sure, you could have ripped through the boards in no time. So why then would someone bother? The answer would come over a year later, and from an unlikely source….

Activate “Way-Back Machine”…… Me and the buds where hell bent to get out in the woods, and push up past the Dorian on Trout to see what was farther up the valley on that side. My friend brought his 4 x 4 to cruise up the Sunset access road and save us all the trouble of that first mile of uphill slog. Upon reaching the old bridge past the mill site, we where packing up when someone notice the 4 x 4 had a flat. No problem, we would just change it… right?

The owner of the truck turned green when he realized his wife had been driving the truck the week before, and got a flat, and did not get the spare repaired. My buddy took cussing to a whole new level that day while me and another friend threw on our packs and resigned ourselves to a hike down and out to the phone in Index.

We left and soon made it down to IGR. Since the road was washed out, no traffic was coming our way. It looked like a long boring walk ahead. But, as we came over the hill, we found a truck in the first cabin site, and cautiously approached as to not startle whoever was there. Out came an obviously nice guy (to our relief) who agreed to take us to Index and use the phone to call our “rescue babe” at home with another 4x4.

Anyway, while heading into town the subject naturally turned to mines in the area, and I asked about the Ethel. He said he knew the owners, and that he thought the father of the family had recently passed away. The family had placed his ashes back in the mine, and that is why it is “sealed” now. Mystery solved. Back to the now hike….

It was with great relief that I stood in front of the adit and noted it was indeed still sealed after all these years. But a new item had been added in the way of a small plaque. It says:

“In Fond Memory of – Mel Roundhill – His adventurous spirit will always be here – Nov 29, 1924 – June 18, 2005.”

This, in my mind, pretty much confirms what the gentleman that day had mentioned. I said a prayer for Mel and hoped he is resting easy. I am very grateful and proud that the Mine Hunters that pass through here respect the area and artifacts – the “code” as it were we conduct our hobby by. To do so otherwise would not only be against the law, but may end up hurting Mel’s loved ones as well. Good job folks.

After finishing up at the lower adit, it was time to bag the item I missed all those years ago... the lower aerial tram bull wheel. But where to start looking? Well the obvious place was at the end of the tramway (duh). I circled back down the hill and came up from below, doing a zig-zag pattern through the piles of artifacts, blow-downs, and vegetation. Lots to see and take pics of, but no bull wheel. Darnn!

Just as I was about the abandon the area and start up the tramway path, I noticed a chuck of steel poking out from beneath a blow-down. Could it be??? YESS THE BULL WHEEL!!! “Cooolllllll” I exclaimed. It was in fine shape, and slightly covered in moss. I can see now why I missed it before. “I can’t wait to tell my friends!” I thought to myself…. “that great Mark, a big wheel in the woods… way cool, yea..” Heathens…. They just don’t understand. (-:

So with that I made my way up the hill, taking pictures of every man-made object along the way. I found a nice “Sparkling Pepsi” bottle (they made “sparkling Pepsi” ???), and was taking a picture of it, when I felt a stinging on my left ankle. There he was, a yellow jacket happily clinging to my hiking sock and plunging his stinger into my flesh. Yikes! I smacked the offending bee, but not before the damage was done. I had been squarely stung, the first time in over 20 years. Ouch.

My first thought was can you develop an allergy to bees over time? If so, I was in deep trouble, since the nearest epinephrine was probably miles away. So, I just stood there and monitored my breathing for a few minutes to see what would happen. Much to my relief, nothing! Other than a painful feeling in the area of the sting, no issues arose. Unfortunately, the bee that stung me got off an SOS to his buddies, and they where waiting for me up top (insert sinister music here)!

Continuing up the mountain, I stayed relatively close to the drop off to the creek. A few hundred feet father up from the Pepsi bottle I came across an ore cart! Very cool! I had not heard of one being up here, but here is was! This one was slammed against a tree with one side seemingly caved in. The bottom still had the wooden trucks (home made?), and one set of wheels still attached. The other set is probably in the creek bed far below.

I wondered to myself why and how the cart ended up at this spot? It’s not near any workings, there are no trails or rails nearby, and it’s between the lower and upper adits. Weird. The only thing I can figure is they where using the tramway to bring it down and it fell???? We may never know.

I took some pictures and again headed up the hill, roughly paralleling the tramway cut and towering cliffs to the left and staying a safe distance from the creek drop-off to the right. Soon I was at the Upper Aerial Tramway Station. Other than some random metal there is really not much left. I dropped my pack, drank some water, and looked through the trees at the Skykomish far below. Damn, it’s a long way up here! This, I might add, is as far as I went the last time I was here. Anything beyond this was a new deal.
After catching my breath, I threw the pack back on and headed up the hill to where the cabin sites are said to be. Not knowing exactly where to look, I just followed the natural “cut” above the tramway. Something caught my eye that did not belong, and just like that I was into the cabin sites. I was amazed at the amount of artifacts up here. I can only assume that this lofty place does not get many visitors. I immediately started taking pictures and documenting what I found; cans, bottles, stove parts and pieces, unidentifiable metal, the cabins themselves, and anything else that struck my fancy.

I wanted to get a good overall shot of the site, so I backed up to a fallen tree, ready to hop up on it if required. While standing there getting the camera ready, I became acutely aware of a stinging sensation on my legs – in fact more than one “stinging sensation.” I looked down and saw that the yellow-jackets where swarming and all over my legs. I must have stepped on a nest, and they were understandably a little upset.

Gentle reader, I am embarrassed to say this, but for the sack of story accuracy I indeed let out a scream like a little girl and took off running.

Man, Forest Gump could not have kept up with me as I tore across the cabin site, grabbing my pack on the way out. I stopped about 100’ away and looked down at my legs… they where still there. I started swatting all over in a near state of panic. How the heck do you fight something you can barely see? I got most of them off my legs, then went after the ones that where trying aggressively to climb down inside my boot tops.

Assessing the situation, I took a rough count of about 6-8 stings that I could see, and probably more that I couldn’t. I attempted to get the stingers out, but I could not tell if I got them all. The only thing I could do is stand there and hope that this overload of pain was not going to cause any problems. Luckily, it did not, and I composed myself enough to whip out my camera and take a little video of the area while explaining the sneak attack.

Hey, didn’t someone say something on the board a few weeks ago about how bad the bees were this year? Does the term “jinx” come to mind? (-;

It was getting on in the day, and I wanted to see if I could bag a new adit or two. So I headed just past the cabin site (per DWHM V1) to “descend to the stream…” to the lower tunnel. Hmmmm

Now, not being one to ever question the all knowing and knowledgeable guys from NWUE, I have to say that maybe some alcoholic beverages where consumed when they came up with the description of access to the lower adit? Unless I am missing something (a real possibility), I would have described it something like “…. just past the cabin site you attempt to climb down the Cliffs of Insanity to the lower adit… good luck.” Yea, that’s more accurate. (-:

The farther down the side of the hill I got, the less comfortable the angle became finally getting to the point where I was leaning on a tree and looking DOWN a shear drop-off to the creek below. I could not see any safe way down without climbing gear from where I was, nor did I see anything that looked like a trail either. Because of this, the fact my legs where starting to hurt more, and water was getting scarce, it was time to call it a day and head down.

I contoured the cliffs below the cabin site, hooking back up with the tramway cut. But this time I stayed ever closer to the creek side of the route constantly looking for a route down to the creek, but no joy on that.

Soon I was back at the Mill site and thrashing my way towards the creek. But, I entered the area towards the creek to early and found myself in the nasty stuff…. again. Damn these plants! I spent a little time making a new trail getting to open ground. But just before I broke out, a nice consolation prize was presented by the woods… another ore cart!

This one was in good shape, but without its truck and wheels. I assume it was rolled, pushed, or carried (?) down from the mill site to this spot well below. It’s just off the creek by about 30’, and I am amazed it has not fallen all the way in. I took a UTM and some pics, and continued out.

I found the “official” Excelsior Creek crossing and stopped to dip my hurting legs in the cool water. It worked well to, since the cold made a lot of the pain go away. I was soon on the shore of the Skykomish and back at the truck in less than 15 minutes without incident.

Except for the antisocial bees, it was a very enjoyable trip. I look forward to gathering more information on the location of the adits up the hill and heading back soon. This time with a couple of tubes of Benadryl in my pack!

Pics for this hike can bee seen at:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/minehunter/sets/72157621876421765/

Take care all, and stay safe!

Drama on Money Creek!!! (well, just a little..)

2009-08-01T22:41:00.000-07:00

After a nice rock on the Talus slope of the Coney a few weeks ago tore open my trusty Merell hiking boots, it was obvious I had to retire them and buy a new pair. That became fairly obvious when I steeped into a creek on the way down and water poured in like a hole in a submarine. Damn! Always when I don’t have the cash! Click below to read more..

So off to REI I went clutching partially used gift cards, dividend’s, and whatever I could shake out of my piggybank. I ended up with a pair of gor-tex lined, state-of the art, rugged, waterproof Vasque backpacking boots (oooooooo… ahhhhhhhh). Now all I had to do was break them in!

But enough about your damn footwear Mark… what’s the deal with Money Creek? Glad you asked! (-:

So I wanted to get the boots broke in, get up in the mountains, and maybe bag a mine I have not visited yet. Checking the trusty volume 1, I found there where three I had not yet bagged up Money Creek – Apex, Bonanza Queen, and Morning Star.

So off I went Saturday, driving the now familiar road from the “ Tyvek Mansion ” and heading up to the washout 3. 5 miles up. I could not help but notice that this is about the same distance that DWHM states is where you should park to head up to the Bonanza Queen. Interesting…

So I got up to the washout, and thought that if this was the creek the Bonanza was on, anything that would point or hint to a mine father up the creek would be long gone. Also, I was surprised at how hot is was up there Saturday. I have hiked the last three weekends, and for some reason that day seemed hotter. Because of this, my motivation level to bush-bash up the hill went down, so I figured I would at least head towards the switchback and scout out the route to the Paymaster.

Just before I left the washout, another car pulls up and out step some older gentlemen (around 55 and 69) – both with the Mountaineers and life-long hikers. We chatted for awhile and they where very interested in the mining history of the area. So, I offered to trek up Money with them and share what I knew. Besides, it’s always nice to have someone to hike with, and these guys hiked at my pace…. slower!

We where soon heading up the road when one of the gentlemen realized he forgot his water a quarter mile back. He trotted back down the road while we waited. Again, the flies came out in droves and we gladly put on DEET for what it was worth. The first gentleman returned and mentioned a group of 6 teens had shown up at the washout, preparing to head up the road.

Off we went again, soon to be overtaken by the youthful band (ah, to be young again). We chatted with them and found out they where heading up to the D&P and asked how to get to it. They seemed an ok bunch, so I told them how. They where grateful and headed off. One of the gentlemen noticed that they had no backpacks, no water bottles, and no shirts. Strange - but hey, they are teens right?

After a leisurely and slightly hot walk, we came to the “S” turn. I decided based on the heat and lack of available water refills (the streams are mostly dry now) that an attempt to the Paymaster would be un-wise that day – so I continued up the road with them. We took a slight detour and I showed them the lower Apex tram terminal area (they loved that), then later up the road the dam, the old bridge, and finally Lake Elizabeth . Since they had never been up that far, they had never seen the lake.

It was lunch time, so we dropped down to the lake. The water level was down and now a nice little beach had formed on the shoreline just past the wooden foot bridge. We took in the serenity, had a bite, refilled our water bottles, and cooled off. While there, a loud sound came over the lake that I instantly recognized. “What was that?” they asked. “It was rocks hitting something big and made of metal” I said. “The teens are still at the mine and are throwing rocks at the ore bin just outside the entrance to the adit.” Wonderful.

Finishing up at the lake, we re-gained the road and started toward the mine. A few minutes later we met the teens heading back down the road. They asked some questions about the mine and thought it was very cool. They where particularly interested in the ore chute inside the mine and what was above it. “We tried to climb up there, but could not get to high.” A good thing to I told them, since the structure could shift or worse at any moment. I stifled rolling my eyes and just let out a sigh.

The Mountaineers asked them what they where doing for water, and they replied they just drank out of the streams. One of them said “yea, and there is a nice stream coming out of the mine.” Oh boy.

“Ummm, you do realize that that mine is full of arsenic, lead, and God knows what else, and that after stomping through the mine you probably stirred it up into the water you drank?” I said with just a hint of shock in my voice. You could have heard a pin drop. They asked if that was a bad thing, and I said probably not, but I’m not a doctor. I just told them that >I< would not drink from it, nor would I even use my water filter on it, preferring water that does not come the mines for safety sake. Wow….

After that goodbyes where exchanged, and off we went. Soon we where up to the mine, and my Mountaineer friends where excited to be at their first mine, and even more excited that the temp inside was 40 degrees cooler! I reminded them that they did not have hardhats on, rock does not give (voice of experience here lol), and to watch the overhead at all times. With that, I loaned them my backup flashlights and in we went. I pointed out what I knew along the way, showing the stoping at the first drift, the veins, etc.

They decided they wanted to push farther into the mine and see the ore chute and stoping that the teens had a death wish for. I reminded them once again to look before they moved, and to watch the overhead. We hit the second drifts and I showed them the bigger vein, the air receiver tank, the ore bin, and the stoping. To get a better view, we went under the bin so they could look up into the large cavity above.

While I was showing the older gentleman the stope, the “younger” one decided to go back under the bin to look at something else. He naturally ducked down thinking he had to go “under” something to get out. Unfortunately, he moved before he looked with the flashlight and quickly ripped his head open on the metal gate on the ore bin. Damn. I took a look and blood was pouring down his face from a nice gash on his head. To add to that, he started to slightly panic followed quickly by signs of shock. Damn damn. Time to leave… now.

I put him in front me so I could keep an eye him and we slowly made our way to the daylight. I was running scenarios through my head if the worst happens and he goes immobile. Try the HAM radio, pop off the PLB, let the older guy stay and I “run” (yea, right Mark) back down the trail for help. But luckily, none of those had to be put into motion.

We got out, and I sat him down on the block just outside the adit so I could get a better look. Luckily, the cut was only about 1” long. However, it was deep enough that it probably would require at least steri-strips. I got out my first-aid kit, pulled on the gloves, clean him up, and dressed the wound. By this time, he was feeling much better. No slurring, no vision issues, and answering all the questions posed correctly. Good to go! Whew!

We headed down the road, and just past the switchback, lying in the middle of the road was a fresh, crisp, new and large Black Cat Roman Candle that was not there on the way up. We suspect the teens dropped it on the way down. Holy momma - as tinder dry as the area was, this would have been a >really< bad idea. I would like to think smarter heads won out on that one, but ya never know what they where up to when we could not see them. The man upstairs must have been watching over all of us that day.

We made it down to the cars, and ended up at the Mountain View in Gold Bar for dinner. We exchanged info and even with the head gash they want to learn more about the mines and history of our area and tag along on some more hikes.

Except next time I will bring them some hard hats!

Pictures of this hike can be seen at:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/minehunter/sets/72157621831129453/