Frater Lake a refreshing getaway
My dog, Kah-less, thinks the best way to get to know a place is to smell it. That’s why he regularly scratches on the car door, asking us to roll down one of the back windows so he can have a whiff as we fly by fresh evergreen forests, sage-covered deserts, and his favorite: dairy farms.
I prefer viewing to scratch-‘n’-sniff. (I have found many lovely flowers produce the nastiest smells. Now that I think about it, this also applies to some people.) However, I was glad my nasal passages were clear and healthy when we hiked around Frater Lake in the Colville National Forest.
We stopped for a short break as we traveled Highway 20 west toward Kettle Falls, Wash., where we would sleep that night. This drive follows the Little Pend Oreille River as it winds through the Selkirk Mountains, accepting waters from its tributaries such as Gap Creek and Cedar Creek. Several recreational lakes, some known for good fishing, dot the map along this route.
The heat had been oppressive from the start of our trip that morning out of The Dalles, Ore. Sunglasses and properly serviced air conditioning were a must for this midsummer journey.
Kah-less didn’t like the new diesel F350 we had just purchased to haul a boat for our small business maintaining water quality probes in Northwest rivers. The back windows of the new truck tilt out instead of rolling down. You can’t get a good whiff if you can’t stick your whole head out of the window and into the airstream surrounding the vehicle, according to the dog.
When we pulled into the Frater Lake parking lot, Kah-less was busting to run and explore. But we had company. A big bull met us at the trailhead and first eyed us with suspicion. Judging us to be harmless, he grazed for a moment on the grasses and wildflowers beneath him before loping off toward the lake.
The area was obviously open range. Considering the laws of gross tonnage, we allowed the hungry bovine to block the best access to the water. We moved on down the lake’s west trail, hoping to find another place for Kah-less to go for a swim.
A simple map from the Colville Ranger District (available at the trail head) shows several hiking loops, which double as cross-country skiing trails in the winter months. Trails for off-road motorcycles and mountain bikes are also noted.
A few Aspen grew among the tall canopy of mainly lodgepole pine and Douglas fir. The wind blowing and flicking the leaves in the high branches of one Aspen fooled me into thinking we were approaching a babbling stream.
A few purple lupine remained, but most displayed drying seed pods. Bluebells were scattered about the forest, some matted together by their thin stalks. Short, pinkish twin flowers hid under taller bushes and ground cover.
Also among the wildflowers at Frater Lake were groupings of little pipsissewa — the tackiest flower I have come across so far. This small, dainty flower begins with a pink to hot-pink bud, resembling a berry. The five-petal flower is pale pink with a jiggling fringe of fuchsia stamens encircling a light green ball in the center. I think it’s the color combination that bothers me so much. It looks like something my Aunt Sarah would have a plastic version of in her bathroom with coordinating fuzzy rug and toilet seat cover.
As we began to walk across a wooden bridge, my nose detected the sweet scent of wild strawberries. And they were not hard to find; a thick patch of the bright red fruit lay on both ends of the bridge. After this, I kept reminding myself to take in big, lung-filling breaths of filtered fresh air and the layered scents of outdoors.
A warming hut for winter skiers is located near the north side of the lake. The area also includes outdoor facilities, picnic table and a supply of wood. Although it was hard to think of snow on such a hot day, we checked out the hut and imagined toasting marshmallows in the wood stove. Open year round, the hut is subject to nonexclusive use; two overnight stays is the limit.
Despite the helpful map provided by the ranger district, we still managed to get lost. Some paths crisscross. To navigate back to the parking lot, we followed blue markers on trees (some downed) that indicate ski trails.
Another aroma caught my attention while we were busy being lost. If there’s one fresh berry I don’t want to miss, it’s the huckleberry. The last time we picked huckleberries was two years ago on Mount Adams in the Cascades and the bushes were about knee high. The plants at Frater Lake were ankle deep.
It looked like a huckleberry, it smelled like a huckleberry — but was it? We bravely popped one in our mouths figuring if we were wrong, one small berry wouldn’t kill us. (Don’t try this at home, kids. I was 99 percent sure my snout was right.) Fortunately, we were rewarded for our bravery with the sweet tartness of the huckleberry.
On the way out, we said goodbye to our friend at the trail head, who was still eating flowers when we left.
Four days later, we arrived home tired from the road, but still glad traveling is a regular part of our lives. As we opened the front door, we inhaled the familiar smells of home, musty home. (I have got to steam clean that carpet.)