Enchanted

One of the classic hikes in the North Cascades is the Enchantment Traverse.  Starting near Leavenworth, WA, this hike rises from 1300 feet to 7800 feet and then back down all over 18 miles.  Supposedly one of the prettiest hikes in the state, it is also one of the most heavily regulated regions in the North Cascades.  Hikers hoping to get overnight permits enter a lottery sometime in January.  Not being well-organized enough to enter the lottery, Kyle and I opted for the Enchantment Traverse in a Day.

I have to be honest here.  The North Cascades are not really my cup of tea when it comes to mountains.  Maybe I’ve spent too much time thrashing through the brush, or hiking up absurdly steep hillsides for cruddy outcrops, but I just don’t think these are the best mountains ever.  I kind of think they are the worst.  They’re dark and rugged and frightening.  So starting up the trail to the Enchantment range I wasn’t really expecting much.  

I stand corrected.

 

The Enchantments are absolutely stunning.  I can’t really describe how awesome they are.  Once you haul yourself up to about 5000 feet (that’s a 3700 ft elevation gain from the car) you have entered Valhalla. You’re surrounded by stunning spires of the Mt. Stuart batholith (not granite, actually, but tonalite, which is basically granite without so much potassium).  You can watch mountain goats frolic in the high meadows and lakes. These aren’t the killer mountain goats of the other parts of the cascades, where they stalk you and gore you (to them you are a salt-making machine and should you fail to produce, they have no further use for you).  Here in the Enchantments, they merely look at you with their adorable little faces and big black eyes, saying; “sister, please take a leak. I could use a little salt.”

Another 2800 feet and you’ve reached Aasgard pass. Now here’s a tip. Should you get yourself one of these killer permits into the Enchantments, SKIP AASGARD PASS.  Don’t go up it. Don’t go down it.  It’s a crappy little trail that goes straight down over 2000 feet to a forgettable lake full of people.  Which brings me to the one downside of the Enchantments- we hiked on a Wednesday and saw over 115 people. ON A WEDNESDAY.  I’m not saying you shouldn’t go, I’m saying don’t expect a wilderness experience.  My last gripe is that the “trail” once you get above 5400 feet isn’t an official trail, it’s an unmaintained trail.  What this has resulted in is a series of “social trails” that give the high altitude region the look of a trampled fairground after ½ price Saturday.  The USFS would do well to get serious about preserving their delicate alpine situation up there and making an official trail.

So we went down Aasgard pass, got a ride from a friendly retired dentist and his wife back to our car, and collapsed after a delicious beans and rice dinner over the campstove.  Perfect day.

The Last Outcrop

From August 2 to August 8 Kyle and I went on a Seven Fingered Jack pluton extravaganza.    We were joined on this voyage into the depths of mosquito-dom by Prof. Bob Miller (San Jose State University), my M.S. thesis advisor and collaborator on my PhD, Prof. Adam Kent (Oregon State University) another collaborator, Kelly Dustin, a dynamic redhead (I only say this because she has the most awesome hair ever) working on her M.S. in the Jack, Kelly’s very tall and awesome boyfriend Grant, and Scott E. (like Wall-E), also working on his M.S. in the Jack.  Our goal was to look at both Scott and Kelly’s field areas so that we could have a better idea how to “sum up” the entirety of the pluton.  We began with a day hike into Scott’s area.  Overall a pretty good day. Looked at rocks. Swatted mosquitos. Took samples. Hiked. Talked about rocks later that evening over beers and wine and liquor.

                Starting Saturday we began a backpack on the exact same trail that Bob, Kelly, Christine and I did last year.  Kyle and I started after everyone else because I had to submit an abstract to a conference.  Whoever thought making the abstract deadline in the middle of field season must have been high.  Anyway- Kyle and I started hiking around 2:30 and found the campsite where everyone else was around dinnertime, which was great.  You may not believe me, but this campsite (at Klone meadow) was even buggier than the crapsite.  However, this campsite had water, so it was still better.  We all had a great time talking around the campfire and seeing how many mosquitos we could kill with one swat- the most being around 50 on Bob’s back.

Photo of Scott E., Bob, and me at the Last Outcrop.

We stayed at this campsite for 2 nights and did some geology in the Entiat highlands a little north of where Kyle and I were last week. Overall it was pretty hot and the geology was kind of boring, which is still interesting if that makes any sense.  After the second night we moved to a slightly less buggy campsite in a higher meadow, again with water.  During the day we worked on the Garland Peak trail, an abandoned treasure that wends through the higher peaks of the region.  This trail follows the ridgeline past several 7000+ peaks, none of which we reached (we were doing geology so we moved rather slowly).  Because the trail isn’t maintained any more (no dirtbikes allowed, so no volunteers to maintain it!) we didn’t see another soul and enjoyed spectacular views across the North Cascades to the north and west  and Glacier peak and Rainier over to the east.  Which brings me to the Last Outcrop.  I’m into small steps, so I was pretty happy around 5 pm on Tuesday when I closed my field notebook at the Last Outcrop for my PhD.  We took a picture to mark the occasion.  Over the past 7 summers I have spent 5 in the North Cascades and 3 summers straight working on this project.  It was a bittersweet moment, but I was mostly happy to be done!  I couldn’t have asked for a better group to have spent my last backpack with.

Now Kyle and I are sitting outside wacky Leavenworth preparing for a fun hike in the Enchantments tomorrow, supposedly one of the prettiest hikes in the North Cascades. After that we’ll do some geo-field tripping up north and hit some Bakeries of Note. More to come! 

d'Anjou Bakery

August 2-

We had pastries this morning at d'Anjou bakery, located on route 2 between Leavenworth and Wenatchee. I've driven by this bakery many times and each time thinking that I should really go in and check out the wares. Well Kyle and I went in this morning, and we were not disappointed. We both give a hearty thumbs up.  Kyle had a French Cinnamon Roll and I had their "French Toast" basically a pastry with almonds all over it. Both pastries were based on a croissant-like dough, so the Cinnamon Roll was crispy on the outside and sweet and chewy on the inside.  Nothing was too greasy or messy or buttery and the level of sweetness was perfect- you weren't overwhelmed by the croissanty-ness of the dough.  The French toast was the same dough with an almond-paste filling and sliced almonds on top, again just sweet enough to balance the dough and the almond flavor was really groovy.  Big thumbs up.

Life inside the headnet, or the Seven Fingered Jack

 Last year I spent about 1.5 weeks in a body of rock called the Seven Fingered Jack pluton.  It’s a funny area because unlike most of the North Cascades, the majority of Jack (as we like to call it) is not very rugged.  This is both a good and a bad thing.  Good, because travel off trail is pretty easy. Bad, because rounded hills don’t often result in bedrock showing through, this exposed bedrock is called outcrop. Mapping rocks without looking at outcrop is generally termed bullshit (obvious exceptions in places like the Himalayas).  Some of you may find humor in the fact that the area Kyle and I went on this trip was near Cougar Mountain.  If this doesn’t amuse you, don’t worry. 

Last year I described some of the wonders of this region: participating in the mosquito buffet (you are the buffet), the delightful trails carefully maintained by dirtbike travel into a delicate, blister-enhancing V, the dust baths, the lack of exposed rocks.  I won’t go into this again.  This year we did get very lucky that the Awesome Rangers of Awesomeness at the Entiat Ranger Station let us go through a locked gate and 12 miles down a rather rugged dirt road to access a trailhead- thus saving us about 2000 feet of elevation gain and loss and 4 miles of hiking (one way).  This doesn’t sound like much until you’re hauling 50-60+ pounds of rocks out of the hills. Thanks rangers of awesomeness!! 

The Crapsite

Dirt roads, hunh? Perhaps I should describe the car we are driving? A Chevy Sonic. It was red, some of that is showing through now.  Clearance on a chevy sonic? About the height of a pinecone.  Nevertheless we drove very slowly down this rough road and made it! Aw yea! We worked for about 5 days via backpacking, staying in a burned out dry meadow.  This campsite, chosen in a vain attempt to avoid the bugs, we named the Crapsitebecause it was so crappy- dry (no water, had to carry in each evening), dusty, bumpy, no good place to cook, and (this is the best part) buggy! 

The Tyee Lookout and the view.

Despite these minor trials, the scenery was really, really beautiful and as long as you were moving, you would never guess how many mosquitos were waiting to sample your bloody wares.  The outcrop was medium to not so great, but we hiked a lot of miles, which is our thing.

After the backpack we did a final dayhike up the Tyee ridge.  As a special treat, on Tyee mountain the USFS has preserved one of their Fire lookouts. You can’t go in, but you can walk around the deck and imagine how awesome it would have been to be there on a beautiful summer evening. At least we did.

Kyle and the Sonic. He's showering with our nifty solar shower.

We had a special surprise waiting for us after the dayhike- a lukewarm shower provided by our new  solar shower.  It’s essentially a big black bag that holds 5 gallons of water. You leave it in the sun and it heats up- ta da! Hot shower.  So way to go us for being clean.

Now we’re in the wacky Bavarian town of Leavenworth, where we’ve had drinks, eaten food made from fresh ingredients, and washed off. Tomorrow we meet with Bob Miller, mentor, committee member, friend, MS thesis advisor, and geologist extraordinaire for the FINAL trip of my PhD field research.  It’s almost all over but that Fat Lady getting on stage and airing out her pipes.

Stehekin Dreaming

 

The Bakery of Legend!

The Cinnamon Roll of Perfection!

                Mike and Taylor left on Friday and Kyle arrived in Stehekin on Saturday.  Which was awesome.  We immediately went to the incredible Stehekin Bakery.  This bakery is stuff of legend. Cinnamon rolls as big as your face with buttery, cinnamony, awesome flavor.  Really.  In the flying world there is something called the $100 Hamburger.  Essentially bored pilots get up on Saturday morning, gas up the light aircraft and fly to some Podunk airfield to buy a hamburger. By the time they’ve got the hamburger and paid for gas, they’ve spent $100. Hence the $100 hamburger.  Well these cinnamon rolls would be the $50 dollar cinnamon rolls- by the time you’ve paid for the boat ride and the bus to the bakery, you’ve spent $50 and worth every freaking penny. Plus, they have a killer egg salad sandwich and scones delicate and flavorful enough to make you cry.  Oh and their bread and their cookies are really good too. Plus the whole thing is in this really cozy log cabin that smells like cinnamon rolls and happiness. And their staff is composed of bubbly young women in adorable aprons listening to bluegrass.  I’m not joking.

                Anyway, after stuffing our faces we prepared for the next trip up to a place called High Bridge. From here we’d be doing some day hikes to study more of the geology of the valley.  It was overall a great trip.  It rained the first day, but only after we were mostly done with the work and had set up the tent. Plus there was a CCC shelter for us to cook in, so we stayed pretty dry.  

 

One of the awesome views from the Goode Lookout Trail

                The best day was working up the Goode Lookout trail- about 5 miles and ~4000 ft elevation gain, at the summit you get a view of the whole Bridge Creek valley. I liked it because I could see nearly 1/3 of my field area, which was pretty cool. We also ran into a mother bear and cub and accidentally sent the cub up the tree and the mom running, so we backed off for a half hour and let them work that out.  

The Stehekin Garden

Dinner from the Garden

                After this trip Kyle and I worked by canoe along the upper part of the Lake.  This was awesome because every day we went to the Stehekin Garden (grown with LOVE!) and bought fresh broccoli and salad and beets and snap peas and had awesome dinners.  It only took two days of trying to finish the work. Why two days of trying?  Well, let me explain.  Lake Chelan is 50 miles long and at its widest about 1 mile across.  When it gets windy on Lake Chelan you get stuck (Kyle tells me the correct term for this is “windbound”, being a sailor this is not in my vernacular).  Did I mention no roads?  So if you’re in a canoe 2 miles from Stehekin, you don’t get dinner and you’re pretty sad.  The first day we went out in very calm winds that quickly picked up, we turned around and struggled back to Stehekin just in time. Just in time for what?  A storm followed that dumped 2.5 inches of rain and hail in 20 minutes and had gusts up to ~35 mph.  Close call!!  The next day (my sister’s birthday!) we did the whole 7 miles of lakeshore that we needed to finish, like a boss.

Petroglyphs along the lakeshore

Hard working field assistant.

My yearly photograph wishing my sister a happy birthday on July 21.

Hot and Bothered on the Lakeshore Trail

Taylor as a scale for some metamorphic rocks (schist).

Mike being a field geologist.

The summer began with a wilt as Mike (a soon-to-be second year grad student in our lab, he ran in the Olympic trials 4 years ago so we call him our olympian) and his field assistant Taylor (an amazing undergrad from Carleton College in Minnesota) stepped off the Lady of the Lake ferry onto the campsite/trailhead at Prince Creek.  This name may sound familiar to you- it was where I was based out of for about half of my MS research.  The site of many adventures, including the Bible believing Christian with a handgun episode (shot a doe in the campground).  Ahh. Good times. 

Our initial plan was to hike into the high country from here (about a 5000 foot gain) and work up high for 6 days.  The snow precluded this plan but I was undaunted and decided we should geologise the so-called Lakeshore trail instead.  This trail runs about 18 miles from Prince Creek to Stehekin, a unique town at the head of Lake Chelan.  Stehekin is only reachable by the Lady of the Lake ferry or by airplane, you can’t drive there.  I will say more on this place later, but trust me, it’s a treasure. 

The forecast for our journey was in the 100s and due to a series of forest fires in the last 10 years, most of this trail has been burned, resulting in a distressing lack of shade.  I can sum up the trip by saying that is was hot.  Very very hot.  We saw some nice rocks and took some good data, but when they say “Lakeshore Trail” I’m sure you imagine happily skipping along the lake shore. Not really, you spend 95% of the trip about 500 feet above it, looking longingly at its icy waters. 

Perhaps my favorite memory of the trip was when we met ANOTHER set of “Bible-believing Christians” or “Young Earthers”.  This didn’t come out immediately, but eventually they both admitted to being preachers (who isn’t in those churches?). They were VERY interested in how old the rocks were. “90 million years you say?”…  The best part was when I admitted to being an atheist- they were visibly taken aback.  Perhaps if I had said I worshipped Satan they would have been more comfortable…

The white stuff is pegmatite, it has BIG crystals.

Most of the rocks we saw were called pegmatite.  A fun word to say, but honestly pegmatite isn’t useful for much in my book.  When magma cools deep in the Earth’s crust you get what is called a pluton.  Plutons are essentially made of granite, so the Sierra Nevada is a series of plutons. So the magma is intruded into the crust and starts cooling and making crystals. Great.  The trick is magma is made up of many different things- iron, magnesium, calcium, silicon, oxygen, etc.  Some of these things are compatible and some are incompatible.  Compatible elements make minerals- these form the granite.  Incompatible elements get rejected from the mineral party and are like the leftovers at a buffet- stuff like water,CO2, and some funky elements.  At the end of the crystallization you’re left with these enriched juices of incompatible elements.  This is what pegmatite is made of- the leftover juices of pluton crystallization.  These fluids then shoot through the pluton and form coarse grained planes called dikes.  Pegmatite is useful to many people- gold is incompatible and can be found in pegmatite. No gold in these pegmatites, though.  Because they are the leftovers, they aren’t usually very insightful for what I’m interested in, which is the pluton part.

Anyway.  Lesson over. Many thanks to Mike and Taylor for suffering through that trip.

Why am I doing this? A primer.

Magmas interacting- see the sharp contact between the grey
stuff and the whitish stuff?

Each summer I get a little better explaining this, so I’ll try again.  My PhD focuses on the deep plumbing of volcanoes.  You and volcanoes both exist up on the Earth’s surface.  My research studies what is going on about 5-30 km below where you are now standing.  Unless you are in Tibet, where the Earth’s crust is up to 70 km thick (!!!).  Then we’re playing a new ballgame. However, I digress.  Back to 5-30 km beneath the surface. Here, magma doesn’t become basaltic lava (imagine Hawaii) it becomes granite (like countertops!) because it cools so slowly- the crystals have lots of time to grow nice and big before they get cold.  There are entire mountains made of basalt (again, Hawaii) and entire mountains made of granite (Sierra Nevada is my favorite example).  What I am trying to understand is how all this granite gets put in the Earth’s crust- as a big blob? As little pieces? Something in between?  What is the link between the deep granitic stuff and the magma that gets erupted (if any)?   

 The North Cascades are a good place to study this because they have enjoyed a long history of tectonic activity- all this enjoyable activity has brought some rather deep rocks to the surface for us to study.  In particular, I’m looking at 3 different granitic-type bodies from 3 different crustal levels, let’s say deep, middle, and shallow. I’m using geochronology (exactly what it sounds like, dating rocks) and field work to understand how these 90 million year old bodies were assembled.