The first lowland stretch of this hike is nothing out of the ordinary, except for going under I-90, and it gets a lot of traffic noise; to my taste, the good part is once you gain some height and especially get into the open (nothing against trees -- I love trees -- but I'd do a different hike for serious trees), so I think I'd rather try this with better traction and an earlier start, and go on to Melakwa Lake. Still, it was good to get out in some snow.
Hike time was three hours.
April 2, 2005: snow on USFS 58, only wheel-tracks clear, a single set. Don't miss the turnoff from 58 to the little lollipop spur road, because it's no fun trying to turn around in the snow. Back at the fork, I just pulled off and parked and walked up the lollipop spur to the trailhead. It turned out the spur was no worse, and probably could have driven up it, but it also wasn't very far extra to walk.
Mostly raining, mostly lightly. Trail covered with packed wet snow, the kind that feels solid until it gives way and your boot skates off or punches through. In the deeper stuff, out of tree cover, there's a very fine line between planting your foot on the snow for traction, and plunging into it up to the knee.
Walking under the arc of I-90 high above does make you think how driving on a highway is the worst of all ways to appreciate the engineering that went into it. The trail crosses Denny Creek and heads gradually uphill, until it comes out onto an open slope, cleared by landslide or avalanche I can't tell. The mountain across the creek, Denny Mountain, comes clear sometimes through the clouds, towering above me. On my ridge, Low Mountain?, the snow line looks to be only a couple hundred feet further up, but I never got past the drizzle. Cross one open stretch, through a patch of trees, across and switchbacking up another. Came to Keekwulee Falls.
I ate another sandwich here, and headed back into the trees. I was tired from this snow surface, and I could tell my feet were going to be soaking wet in not very long.
Back at the car I found that the clearing I was by was a picnic spot, with table and grill. Snow pressed down through the grill, in two rows of fingers, for some reason each curving inwards, so like a ribcage.
