And while I hope for a white Christmas and snow, I think back to the end of October, the North Cascade Mountains, and the magical winter wonderland me and Tim found ourselves in on our quest to see White-tailed Ptarmigan.
We had driven from Ontario, across the prairies, into the Rockies and back out again. Across the forests of Montana we had gone, and through the dry country of western Washington. Finally, we came into North Cascades National Park in Washington, as a light snow was falling. Being dark when we arrived, we took a pre-dawn walk the following morning up the Pacific Crest Trail to search for Boreal Owls. As the sun came up, we were lost in the moment as the shimmering light reflected on the spruce and fir trees covered in snow.
At some point in life, one may think that scenery and the outdoors will get old. That the thrill of seeing snow capped mountains, rolling prairies and rocky hills will wane, replaced by an air of indifference. Clearly that is fool's talk. The beauty, peacefulness and raw power of our planet's landscapes will never cease to amaze and inspire. That morning was no exception.We carefully plodded back down the trail, not wanting to break the stillness. It was as fine a morning as it gets, Boreal Owl or not!
|The dawn at Rainy Pass|
Sure enough we did. But this time around, it was prime time. An owl perched beautifully at the top of a tree down the valley right at our eye level . Then with some tooting of our own, another owl joined the first and we watched in awe as the two dueled with their beaks. What a bird and what a place!
Wait, what about White-tailed Ptarmigans? Isn't this a tale about Ptarmigans?
What about them indeed! Well that was the second part of our journey.
Driving through old growth rainforest, with Red Cedars as wide as our car and covered in the most ancient looking moss, we arrived at the snowline with a somewhat wild plan. We would hike up the Sahale Arm trail, camp as it got dark, and continue up to the glacier and back down to the car the next day. Hopefully, we'd see the elusive Ptarmigan feasting on willow buds. Or perhaps enjoying being the same color as the snow... white... There was an obvious flaw in this plan. There was snow, it was white, and there was lots of it. Even if we could navigate the trail, would we even see the birds buried in willow thickets covered in snow? We started the trek regardless of the improbability of spying these creatures, and wouldn't you know, more snow began to fall. As 5pm rolled around, it was getting time to camp.
Now in this case we could have easily erected the tent, set up shop, made some hot chocolate and oatmeal, and gone to bed. But Tim, perhaps inspired by the great white north and its inhabitants, or perhaps channeling some of John Muir's spirit, or even perhaps simply delving into slight madness, decided we should build a snow fort right where we stood, half way up the bloody mountain. And so we did. Three hours later, we had an enclosed snow dome. Why we did this still remains a mystery. It was cold, wet, and rough going. We'd whip out the fly tent, drag it up the trail, dump fresh snow on it, and haul it back to our fort to build up the walls. Like I said, after three hours of this, it was done. Crawling into our fort, we snuggled into our sleeping bags, and tried to ignore the bitter cold that night as we dozed in and out of sleep. The next morning, once we were packed up and out, we were no worse for the wear.
|Tim lighting a pipe beside our snow fort!|
No worries though. We had immense Doulas-Firs and Red Cedars to marvel at on the way down, and while Tim hummed the notes and rhythm to some Bob Marley tunes, I sang the lyrics, bringing a little bit of Jamaica to the Cascade Mountains and the Chesnut-backed Chickadees that were listening.
"Don't worry, doo ba doo waaaaaay da, about a thing, doo ba doo waaaaaay da, Because every little thing, is going to be alright, doo ba doo waaaaaay da."
And so on...
And worry, we did not. The Sooty Grouse on the other hand, probably had just cause to worry. Tame as a chicken, and feeding on the road edge about a half click before we made it back to the car, Tim (à la ninja) crouched, crept over to it, and snagged it. After a brief discussion about eating it (I was opposed), he set it on its merry way. After all, you can't eat your lifer Sooty Grouse now can you? In fairness it wasn't my lifer, having gotten the species 20 minutes prior to this incident, but it definitely ups the stakes of the story if this was my lifer bird.
Back at the car, our trip was coming to a close. The ferry to B.C was the next morning and the camping was done. We made a few more birding stops that day, before car camping in the parking lot of a grocery store, and left the next morning thinking it'd be hard to top this trip off.
In fact, the birding wasn't done, as the ferry ride plus the subsequent birding around Victoria, turned out great, and I think I ended with 5 or 6 lifers that day. Regardless, the treks in the Mountains were definitely over. It was back to civilization, Halloween parties and getting a job!
|The last stretch out of the Mountains|