Don’t let the weather scare you

I quickly realized after moving from the Southeast to the Northwest that if you ever wanted to do anything around here, you couldn’t let a little weather ruin an outing.

Yes, there are plenty of bright, crystal mornings and spectacular, never-ending sunsets in the Northwest. But, there are also weeks, sometimes months, with nothing but grey clouds and fog and you start to wonder what real sunshine looks like.

You need more than a positive attitude to weather a day of precipitation in the Pacific Northwest. What you need is performance wear, and lots of it. (I never thought I would say this, but thank God for polyester blends. Of course, this isn’t the fabric that wheezed between the thighs of grandma’s pantsuit legs, but a softer, gentler textile – ah, polyester fleece.)

Knowing this, we were prepared when winter decided to sneak up on us during a recent trip to South Fork Silver Creek Trail in the far upper region of Washington’s Colville National Forest, just south of the Canadian border.

Raindrops from intermittent showers seemed to be getting thicker as they splattered on the windshield. Was that snow mixed in there, we wondered.

John drove north along State Route 25, where the highway traces the eastern outline of Lake Roosevelt, above Grand Coulee Dam. The morning fog began to lift and we could see snow on the mountains that border both sides of the lake: Lookout Mountain, Flagstaff and other peaks along this range. The farther north we drove, the more snow there was. Large, thin blankets of the powder covered open shoreline and meadows. The snow was also lightly sprinkled through denser woods, where we would hike that day.

We slowed down to pass through quiet Northport, once known as one of the rowdiest mining camps in the state. However, the locals have settled down quite a bit since the 1890s.

The town is what I call quaintly rugged. We’ve stopped here often for gas and sustenance (coffee and potato chips). But there’s charm to be found if you look, like the little B&B on the main street with an outside decor that changes with the seasons. White and gray cliffs tower over the community school, making for what must be an amazing view at field practice.

Then there’s the Whitebird Tavern on this same road, which offers a simple atmosphere with hot food and cold beer. Displays from past hunts hang on the tavern’s dark walls. Neon glows in select areas. It reminds me of college days.

Highway 25 crosses the Columbia River at Northport, but we diverged off, turning onto Northport-Boundary Road. This road continues to follow the last stretch of the river and leads to the Canadian border crossing. But we again turned right, this time onto Deep Lake Boundary Road. The road makes a big curve back into the United States and away from Canada.

We passed Red Top Mountain on our left before reaching Leadpoint. Discovery of lead ore in the area made Leadpoint the main distribution center for many mines in the area. And there are many mines in these hills, with names like Lead King, Keystone and Wildcat Mine.

Today Leadpoint is an almost forgotten place, except for those that live or play near here. Creeks and forks of creeks crisscross the mountains, appearing as fine blue veins in the atlas I hold on my lap.

Distracted by power line maintenance being performed (big, tall machinery is pretty awesome to watch in action), we overshot our mark and missed Silver Creek Road. We turned around, smiling and waving at the road flaggers as we went back through the work zone. We took Silver Creek Road to our trailhead and began to suit up.

We layered ourselves with polyester fleece and waterproof jackets. But I found that my rain pants wouldn’t tuck securely into my new Gortex hiking boots, which are only ankle high. Good thing the snow’s not too deep today, but this looks like another excuse to buy more recreational footwear. I cinched up the cuffs of the rain pants as best I could around my leg.

In addition to staying warm, we also needed to distinguish ourselves from the wild game. We had noticed several hunters in the area, including a camp on the drive up Silver Creek Road.

John remembered our orange vests, including one made for canines that we hoped our dog Kah-less wouldn’t mind wearing. Kah-less took right to it. After John had fastened the Velcro belt under his belly, Kah-less bounded around in his special cape. Maybe we looked like a band of woodland superheroes as we boldly trekked into the forest, all in matching orange outfits.

I really tested the product guarantee for my new waterproof boots. Silver Creek slices directly across the trail in a couple of places. There are no bridges, unless you count the large stones in the water that we tried to balance on. Some were slick with moss. A fallen tree served as a handrail on one crossing. But it seemed easier and more logical to just step right in the water sometimes.

Snow outlined the cedars around us, but fall was still present. Rusted leaves poked up from beneath the white layer of flakes. Freshly fallen, heart-shaped leaves lay scattered across the top of the snow.

We climbed steadily upward for about three and a half miles, but as usual at this time of year, darkness was coming fast. We ate a late lunch and took some pictures along the way, then turned around without reaching any particular point. More open vistas lay higher on this and connecting trails. The trees where we hiked were thick, giving away no panoramic views. The landscape instead wrapped us in peaceful woods.

The walk down the sloped trail was much easier and faster. Kah-less wasn’t too thrilled to have his cloak removed when we got back to the car. We put it away, promising he would have another chance to wear it.

Instead of going back the way we came, we continued south on Deep Lake Boundary Road. Deep Lake itself appeared on our right. Homes surround most of the lake, but a public boat launch and campground are located there as well. At the road’s end, John turned right onto Aladdin Road and drove back into Northport to once again catch Highway 25. Groups of gobblers ate from yards, roadsides and meadows. We also passed plenty of deer.

Ribbons of fiery gold and orange trees flowed down crevices and followed ridges of the mountains around Lake Roosevelt. Snow filled in between. The landscape resembled a fancy dessert with apricot filling and powered sugar. We were soon in the retreat of a Grand Coulee hotel room, warming our tummies with a frozen berry pie, heated in the kitchenette’s oven.

Now we dream of when the snows will be thick enough to slide across on well-waxed skis as we air out our snow clothes (another necessity to survive and enjoy a Northwest winter – bring it on.)

Wonder how Kah-less will feel about dog snow boots?