A dayhike into the Alpine Lakes Wilderness to a mythic lake with a friend doesn’t quite go…& we had a blast anyway, like, literally, as in Ka-POW, LOL!
Monday 1 October 2019
*This is an unfinished work in progress. Almost done, tho! Enjoy!*
Gazing across Washington State’s incredible Alpine Lakes Wilderness from the summit of Mt. Defiance (5,584 ft or 1,702 m). Foto from an earlier hike & climb. The largest lake below is Lake Kulla Kulla at about 3760 ft in elevation. Further over to your right is the next largest, Mason Lake at about 4,183 feet. As you can see, one doesn’t scramble 1,053 ft straight down. Ya gotta go up & over & down & around & then down. I took this foto on Monday 22 June 2015.
Finding Lake Kulla Kulla had a grip on me. Still does. Ever since I first saw it from the top of surrounding ridges and peaks. Especially from the top of Mt. Defiance on a day hike one Monday in May 2015. An attempt earlier this year in May with my middle daughter Kate stopped at Mason Lake. A later than anticipated start combined with choosing to return for a family gathering to say farewell to my oldest was the reason then. A couple of other planned trips including camping out overnight ended up being canceled for odd reasons.
Zooming in on Kulla Kulla from Mt. Defiance on the same trip in June 2015. Steep, rocky, brushy, & woody!
Kulla Kulla is an anomaly, remains a mystery, and as such I wanted to at least find a way to get down to its shoreline. There weren’t any trails on any maps except a faint, dotted line on an old map I found online for an overgrown fishing trail. Best reports indicate one turning off on a rough trail just before reaching Sir Richard’s Pond to follow a ridge sloping down to the lakeshore. The terrain is rugged, steep, and without any good beaches. Trip reports were scarce. A few were rambling, toppling over snowy boulders and logs snowshoe romps. One was a hilarious tale of woe and misery by a guy who claimed to have barely made it out alive. A Bigfoot family of hairy Sasquatch people was imagined to abide down in these remote sections of the Alpine Lakes Wilderness. Yet it was a glorious lake with a stunning view. So I asked my friend Michelle RM, a coworker within the same outdoor adventure company, if she would join me in finding a way down to the lake from the main trail. Yes, of course, she replied. She was game! Woo Hoo! So off we went.
First time I even glimpsed Lake Kulla Kulla! This is a zoom-in pic shot across Mason Lake (out of sight) from the top of Bandera Peak, Sunday 31 May 2015. Gotta get down there! Eventually…as the Sasquatch dance & thump wood!
I got up at 5 in the morning, but in hindsight 4:00 would have been better. Even better would have been to stop to take a realistic appraisal of what condition my body is in and to what degree my mind denied the truth. Best to have rescheduled this grunt or simply just grunt uphill for exercise, fresh air, and mountain views without going anywhere in particular. Michelle was the type of special friend who understands such matters. She’s been thru a few wringers, too. Made me grin, too, as she kept misspelling Lake Kulla Kulla in her text messages as, ahem, Lake Wulla Wulla.
My biggest challenge in life, a challenge already affecting this day, unfortunately, was sleep deprivation. Slept about an hour last night. Maybe two! Sheeesh! So turned it into an endurance training, I thought, as if I was climbing a big monster mountain without any sleep to beat the summit storms, or in the military. Except I’m not in the military, not climbing an enormous peak, and have not exercised consistently in months as I’ve battled a string of relatively minor but prolonged illnesses. Mind over matter only gets one so far alive out there in reality. Yes? Sheeesh!
Turns out Michelle was still packing and messing around with stuff, too.
“I don’t know what’s the matter with me this morning,” she declared with a somewhat grim grin before chuckling again. “I’ve gotten out of packing-my-pack shape!”
“Aye, rusty myself,” I said. “Used to have a pack ready to go at a moment’s notice. Not anymore. Too many life changes and moving around. I need a new daypack!”
She had better excuses, tho, as she had recently bought a house. Much of her free time had been spent working on her new home and fixing up the yard and gardens. The house was also further out in hilly countryside down curvy roads. While in a pretty location, the place took longer to get, too. Despite the assurances of my Google GPS map, my drive took over an hour and much longer than initially planned.
“Hey,” I said. “We don’t have to get all the way down to Lake Kulla Kulla. Let’s just get up there and see how far we can get. Just have fun. We won’t have time to climb up Mt. Defiance either, especially as its slopes down to the lake are too steep anyway. We can shoot for Mason Lake. Maybe find the old Mason Creek Trail just past the new footbridge.”
“Sounds good to me,” my friend said. “And I don’t know why I keep calling it Lake Wulla Wulla.”
“Wulla Wulla. Kulla Kulla,” I responded with a chuckle. She laughed, too, buckled up her daypack, stood up, and opened her arms, hands up, towards the walls of her cute little home.
“Would you like me to show you around my new house? See the gardens?”
“Sure!”
Finally we got going. The rays of the rising sun kept me awake as we drove east. I guzzled lots of coffee. Aye, lots and lots of coffee. Drove my minivan all the way up to the trailhead. Quietly prayed the privy was vacant. We beamed in the morning sunshine.
Oh my, the trailhead parking lot was already nearly full! Nearly mid-morning on a weekday, too. But, hey, this is the Pacific Northwest! People are always outside, and the weather makes everything an adventure. Storms, snow, and rain one day, brilliant sunshine and racing clouds the next. Ugh, there WAS someone inside the outhouse privy. OK, an opportunity to practice detachment from bodily urges with slow, deep breaths. As I turned around, a jolly pack of dogs, oh my goodness, nearly a dozen or so dogs, big dogs and little dogs, too, all came racing up to me and barking and yelping. A tall, white woman in gnarled, red hair hollered at the dogs to, “come back here!” Just then a tiny, elderly woman in cropped, snow-white hair opened up the outhouse door with a twinkle in her eye and shot off across the parking lot as if she was 20 years old.
Between extensive outhouse visits (me, heh heh heh), the distraction of a surprisingly large pack of dogs, shuffling and repacking gear and clothes, taking fotos around the trailhead, the time was close to eleven o’clock in the morning before we even got hiking! Oh well. Then at 15 minutes in we turned around as I realized I’d lost my short, fixed-bladed knife. Didn’t want to abandon it to nature either, so back we went. All the way back to the parking lot where Michelle found my blade still locked in its sheath down in the dirt next to our minivan. We laughed at our situation. But I was embarrassed. Because I was so sleepy I’d placed my sheath and knife in the correct location where I usually place it on my left shoulder strap for quick access but had placed it upside down. No wonder the darn thing plopped off, and I was apparently too tired to notice. Uh-oh! My pale face flushed red as raspberries.
“Gee, that was stupid. We aren’t gonna get very far today,” I intoned and groaned. “At least we brought our headlamps.”
“Don’t worry about it,” she said and shrugged her shoulders with a grin. Michelle reassured me we were gonna take our time, not hurry, enjoy a beautiful day in the mountains, and, yes, indeed, express gratitude for this amazing time to get outside. “And yes, I did pack my headlamp.”
We turned and trotted back to the trailhead one more time. One more time!
It’s now Monday the First Day of October 2019, over 4 years later since I first glimpsed the mythic “Wulla Wulla.” It’s a glorious day, too, woo hoo! Alas, we’re a wee bit late to scoot up over the wilderness down into the depths of Lake Kulla Kulla’s alpine bowl.
South to our left McClellan’s Butte looms across the I-90 freeway corridor, beckoning me to complete what I didn’t do on my first 2 hikes there…climb to the summit. It’s a tough little hike up to 5,162 feet. First time Gwen & I stopped just below the scramble pitch one hot, muggy afternoon & called it a day. Next & last was when Tim & I got caught in a blizzard and were nearly trapped between avalanching couloirs, decided enough was enough, & turned around in December 1993. This peak still has a morbid hold on me nearly 26 years later.
I love October in the mountains!
Looking down Mason Creek Falls while on the sturdy, new footbridge crossing the waters rushing down the mountain from Mason Lake. McClellan raises its wicked butte in the distance.
Up above the footbridge crossing in the middle of the Falls. Well, it’s low water as it’s October. I loved the sound & the mystery of water & gravity.
Michelle & I snapped by Rick, a mutual friend & coworker from REI, on his way back down the mountain with his husband & their dog. Goofy picture, too, LOL! Thanks, Rick! To our modest chagrin, they left the trailhead at 7 in the morning. Sheeesh, we’re…no, not late, just out training in the Great Outdoors, woo HOO! They said there was a bit more snow then, too, and the white stuff is melting fast. Foto of us by Rick Lambert & shared here with his permission. Monday the 1st Day of October 2019.
Breaking out to cross a broad, brushy avalanche slope.
Old Spirit Tree. Sasquatch knockwood?
West down the I-90 freeway corridor along the Mountains to Sound Greenway towards Greater Seattle & the Olympics beyond.
Zooming in thru the Autumn haze to the Olympic Mountains on the other side of the Salish Sea.
Ahh, the Butte.
Zooming in on an old nemesis.
The Pacific Northwest is home to clusters of vine maples (Acer circinatum) and Rocky Mountain maples (Acer glabrum).
Maples divine…
Golden red Acer-Acers…
Imagine the kinetic violence required for these massive rock slides to end up here after the original lava flows morphed into igneous rock during prehistoric convulsions of fire & ice.
Michelle prepares to move out. Defiance rolls back in the distance dusted in snow.
Today’s beautiful, but heavy storms are expected to roll in from the ocean across the next few days.
Zooming in on Mt. Defiance.
More storms are sure to follow in the wake of today’s melting snow.
No storms today, tho.
Distant yet oh so close Mt. Doom & Gloom (McClellan Butte) reminds me in the mountains the weather is always changing. So all predictions are off.
Higher & Further…
And a long ways up, too. Here we continue to traverse the lower slopes of Bandera Mountain.
Snow as eternal in the trees as sand castles on the beach…
Yesterday’s snow’s melting fast…
Hiker in the woods as we crunch down the Ira Spring Memorial Trail to Mason Lake.
Strange days, strange woods… Ah, off we go anyway.
Emerging from the forest to stand upon the rocky shores of Mason Lake, always a welcome sight for heart & soul.
Old slide below Bandera.
We’re enchanted by this lake. And we want to keep going to find at least a rudimentary turn-off trail down to Lake “Wulla Wulla.”
Sometimes when all is still and you know all we can see is merely what our minds interpret from what our brains perceive from our limited biological senses, and you just feel there is so much more to all there is beyond such tangibility…we are left paused in wonder and tempted by speculation as we harrow open the boundaries between science and spirituality and between the quantum and the mystical. Then, with ghosts whispering in the silence between snow dusted branches, what is next?
Next time, tho, I’m gonna explore the far shores.
Might even camp there on the little peninsula. A quiet place to contemplate the mysteries of life amidst the beauty and hazards of Nature Divine.
Dreaming into the quantum with biological eyes wide open behind a mechanical lens.
Michelle enjoying the day.
Ha! Sunglasses all crooked, can’t see outa these as I await new eyeglasses, goofy grin, OK, I am really glad to be outside today even if I feel hours behind imaginary time.
A sweep across Mason Lake, Monday 1 October 2019.
Saying fare thee well to the tippity top of frosty Bandera before we leave Mason in search of the lost turn-off to mythic “Wulla Wulla.”
Aye, I’m 60 years old, and I chew with my mouth closed!
Mushrooms are bursting up everywhere! The Kingdom of Fungi dominates our biosphere in ways our species is just beginning to understand. Michelle has gone barmy nutters seeing such a bountiful harvest. She desires to return to gather them off trail. I can’t tell an edible one from a killer, tho I enjoyed psilocybin shroomies the one time I ate some decades ago. Wow, that long? Well, I’m supposed to avoid eating fungi on my low-FODMAP IBS diet.
More & more edible fungus everywhere as we hike further up the ridge between the lakes. We cold glimpse slivers of Lake Kulla Kulla down between dense forests growing on steep, rocky slopes. Michelle explained how a wet, cold snap followed by warm sunshine encourages the mushrooms to grow in size and pop out all across the forest floor. We pushed on towards Sir Robert’s Pond as we scanned the terrain for old, abandoned mining, fishing, hiking paths or overgrown game trails. Anything to get us down to Lake Kulla Kulla. Never did. Never found anything. We turned around on the main trail about 15:30 and headed back down the steep, wet-rooty ridge trail to Mason Lake and eventually home. Ahhh, I felt a little disappointed. Had me the Lake Kulla Kulla Wulla Wulla Blues. Felt like I was chasing ghosts looking for some secret neverfind trail.
More vibrant maple colors were found lower down around Mason Lake than up high in the wet fungoid woods. These beautiful colors of the Fall help lift my Kulla Kulla Blues. Here we’ve already passed Mason Lake and are at the crest of the ridge near the Ira Spring Memorial plaque.
Goofin’ around in the sunshine on the edge of rocks & woods with shadow play.
More shadow play in the sun before heading on back down towards the car. Shadows on the first day of the most Autumn month of the Fall. Halloween & Samhain are but 30 days away now. Then the Holy Daze kicks off!
Wind in the Leaves.
Down, down, on down we go. Most of the snow’s gone out here in the sun.
Defiance Ridge cleaves the sky like the back of a slumbering dragon. Eventually I’d like to hike those ridge trails snaking along curve of ridge.
Each mountain is its own mountain and every season upon its slopes & peaks a different adventure altogether.
She patiently waits while I shoot pictures. And there she is, my friend.
Man in distance beyond the dreaming of the Bigfoot knocking tree where spirits live.
Moon outside above the North Bend truck stop we ate dinner at. Foto taken at 19:28.
Luna has a hold on all of us. We’re all asymmetrical walking bags of seawater enthralled to the tides & phases of our planet’s large and most strange Moon.
William Dudley Bass
Wednesday 23 October 2019
Friday 25 October 2019
Seattle, Washington
USA
Cascadia
Sol
Notes to complete this article with:
– Impact of sleep deprivation on aging & fitness & endurance/speed/strength
– man stops in the middle of the frakken trail, opens up what looked like a suitcase from the old Jetsons’ TV syfy futuristic space cartoons, rigs up a drone & launches it. I was surprised at how loud it was & it seemed to track hikers as if he was practicing focusing by video recording us hikers & climbers. It felt invasive. Intrusive. Michelle was not happy, plus she reminded me they’re banned in designated wilderness areas. I didn’t like the noise & while the photo aspect is cool, it felt different from being in someone’s smartfone video as they scan across the landscape versus being tracked & followed from above, from the air. Later MM was confronted by her own hypocrisy of the drone versus the pack of dogs, which she liked but I didn’t.
– woman with pack of dogs, big & small…lived nearby…seemed to act as she owned this wilderness as her personal back yard…she is a dog walker & her job…and her encounter with 1 asian woman with little dog – both terrified – left bad taste in our mouths. The dog walker lost her temper. 0 empathy. all impatience & fury. Big dogs barking a lot. Truth is I really really dislike all these damn dogs in the backcountry. It’s not dogs per say, but people’s attitudes regarding dogs. Shit & piss everywhere & bark a lot. Well, so do obnoxious humans. Sad. Also what started out as a friendly relationship soured badly by time we were back at the car. Had stopped & chatted with her on the crest of the low ridge above both Mason Lake on one side & the Snoqualmie Valley far below the other…she had taken the old abandoned trail but lost it in the boulder field; was also badly eroded & overgrown, too.
– MM & her mushroom foraging delights.
– clobbered on head by falling lump of hard, icy snow. WHAM!
– my knees died. OMG such surprising and embarrassing agony! “I’ve never seen you so slow!” my friend said. Both of my vastus medialis muscles – my inner quadriceps muscle that merged with my adductors – seized up in painful charley horse cramps & trembled constantly…wouldn’t support the weight of my body…I hobbled painfully slow & prayed I didn’t encounter any one else I knew. Rick was older than me but in better shape, shit. I vow to fix this, but first had to get to the car. Took a week or more to heal. Pulled by pelvis further out of alignment, too.
Copyright © 2019 by William Dudley Bass. All Rights Reserved by the Author & his Descendants until we Humans establish Wise Stewardship over and for our Earth and Solarian Commons. Thank you.