What have you seen?

[dr._jay]

every view in the enchantments is pretty much a postcard shot, but my favorites were sunset from the top of asgard pass, moonrise over prusik peak, and the morning reflection of the high peaks in tranquil lake.

[dr._jay]

and how can i forget the ever-loving, ubiquitous, urine-chugging goats. i hear that if they get close enough they wont even let it hit the ground first. ouch!

[Dan_Harris]

While fishing on the St. Mary River in Glacier Nat'l Park I heard a tremendous crashing through the brush across and a little upstream from me. Suddenly six deer busted out running full tilt, hit the water, turned up stream and disappeared around a bend. If that wasn't spectacular enough, the reason for their fright soon appeared, a huge grizzly. He ambled out of the brush and slowly swam across the stream and disappeared again into the brush. The awe and wonder of nature never ceases to amaze me.

[Dru]

One time up at Vayu (It think... it was a few years ago) I said "I'm not gonna turn in until I see a shooting star". No sooner had I spoken than a HUGE flamer shot across the entire sky - it was so big you could see chunks flaking off and burning up.

I like meteors.

Another good one - FT and I just finished our route on the N face of Plinth, it is about 5AM, the sun comes up and there is a partial eclipse - a horned sun rising up, the snow turns pink, and a perfect lenticular cloud forms overhead, turns into "mammatus" clouds that I had only seen in a meteorology text before, then rain falls just on the summit and for about 150m on either side of us.

[Wopper]

I once watched an osprey grab a fish out of a little lake in the Eagle Cap Wilderness Area. Pretty damn cool.

[CascadeClimber]

A herd (gaggle, covey, pack, warren??) of more than 30 mountain goats below the North Ridge of Adams. The spectacular stars and Milky Way from the same place.

Watching a pack of wolves cross the foot of the Adams glacier a year later.

My first ascent of Rainier in 1995. Went with my Dad, who was climbing to celebrate his 50th birthday.

Magical alpenglow before sunrise on the Emmons in 1998. The mountain and the air lit up like a neon sign for 30 fleeting seconds.

So many more...

-CC

[Cpt.Caveman]

I saw a big Snafflehound at Nada Lake try to eat through my pack and into my goodies!

[Kyle]

One of the coolest things I've ever seen was a series of lightning sprites while camping in the Enchantments this season (see http://www.cascadeclimbers.com/ubb/Forum1/HTML/000497.html for my earlier raving about this phenom).

Last summer my brothers & I saw a half-grown black bear cub running away from us as we hiked up to Snow Creek Wall (we were on the switchbacks, about a mile from the parking lot). The bear disappeared down the snow creek ravine. First time I've seen a bear in WA.

This past weekend I was in CA, touring the coast, & viewed a handful of full-grown elephant seals on the beach near San Simeon, which was way cool. Everyone should see the gorgeous coastline between SLO and Monterey at least once in their life.

[Cpt.Caveman]

Kyle I have an exact replica of your bear sighting! 4 weeks ago!

[Kyle]

Oh yeah, and last February, seeing the clearest and starriest night sky ever, from a campsite high in the Fiordlands region in New Zealand, was a high point.

[Dru]

Hiking into Silvertip for attempt #2 on east face we ran into a fully grown black bear about 10 feet away, in a bushwacking section. He/she just looked at us like "Huh" and wandered away up a moss covered, wet slab that would have been hard to climb with a rope and gear...

The kicker was, we skirt around the bear and come out in a clearing. Sit down to get over being scared by bear, and all of a sudden a big doe comes bounding into the clearing. She sees us and takes off running into the woods right for where the bear was last seen... "No! Look out Bambi there's a bear there!"

Listened for 15 minutes after that but no sounds of carnage.

[This message has been edited by Dru (edited 08-14-2001).]

[Kyle]

Yeah Capt, that bear was booking too! He was flying thru bushes & over ridges like nobody's biz. We were a little spooked hiking down later that night (sans flashlights), just knowing there was probably a mama bear rooting around not too far away... all the way down we were hooting & hollering so we didn't surprise her on the trail.

[Dru]

It isnt a bear but here's a picture my friend Kobus took of sunrise above a cloud layer from a high bivy on Judge Howay. I actually am using this for my desktop wallpaper. The peaks in middle distance are the Chehalis Range.

[David_Parker]

About a month ago I saw the most amazing double rainbow in my entire life. I was driving up to Port Townsend and there was one of those seriously black clouds floating above like a flat roof. Suddnly the sun started to come out because it was beginning it's final descent towards sunset. I was really curious to see if I could see it in its entirety so I chased it into a subdivision sitting high on the bluff overlooking the bay towards Indian Island. There was a vacant house so I parked the car and we went around to the back and were blessed with a double full arch ground to ground. There was a tug boat pulling a log boom that had stopped to look and the water was glass! It was unbelievable light and incredible color and I knew this was a picture that no camera could do justice! It was one of the most powerful visions I have ever had and will never forget. I'm not very religeous, but in a way I feel only god could have created that! Him or Mother Nature! I think what made it so spectacular for me was that it was only temporary, like a chalk painting on the sidewalk that washes away in the next rain. Except this was real!

[rperitore]

Marmot inside the compost toilet at camp on moraine of Sahale glacier..wonder what he was looking for???

[rperitore]

Had the need to use the compost toilet at camp on the moraine of Sahale glacier. Lifted the lid and there was a marmot, hanging out foraging or whatever they do, right there inside the thing.

[Dru]

One time, up in... ( I know I'm replying to all these people seeing neat stuff with ME TOO but I did...)

...up in NE BC, the "Peace River country", I went to a Forest Service campsite outhouse, lifted the lid and there was a beaver in the hole! He did the danger tailsmack and shit splashed but luckily not out of the hole.

Actually seeing the beaver was cool but i could have skipped the rest of it.

[imorris]

Up by Mt. Clemenceau in the Canadian Rockies, a pine martin kept trying to climb the metal siding of the Grassi hut but kept falling off . All night we were listening to skritch, skritch, skritch, skrrriiiiiiiiitch, thunk.....skritch, skritch..... It made off with a friend's used stinking climbing socks and tore them to pieces. Much appreciated, but the alpine starts were rough when you could hardly get to sleep.

[Kyle]

Pine Martins are great... once while rapping down from Mammoth Terrace by headlamp, we looked up to see 2 beady red eyes looking back at us from a blank section of rock just a few yards away. Scared us at first- we thought it was a huge rat, but when it moved we could see it was a pine martin about 3' long. It ran across a near-vertical slab and dove into a big crack.

The bats on el cap are cool too, I liked falling asleep to the sound of them squeaking and fluttering around just above my bivy.

[nolanr]

A pack of wolves on Mt. Adams? No kidding? I grew up south of there and had no idea there were wolves anywhere near.

I pissed on a mouse scurrying around in the toilet at the Long's Pass/Ingall's Pass trailhead.

Okay, I forgot about this one. Maybe the coolest combination of things I've seen, both in one evening. Heading east on the Mt. Baker Hwy. several years ago there was just a big ball of reddish/orangish glow skimming across our entire field of vision. Saw something in the paper afterward, it was a Russian satellite re-entering earth's atmosphere and burning up (or that's what the guvmint told us anyway, probably aliens really). Later on, switchbacking up the road heading towards Mt. Baker Ski area I happened to look out the back of the car and BOOYAH!, there's Mt. Shuksan with a huge bright moon rising over it's shoulder. This was in November, the air was clear, a little fresh snow on the mountain, it was absolutely stunning.

[nolanr]

And one time, at Glacier National Park...in the Many Glacier area saw 9 bear in a couple of hours, all roadside, 8 griz and 1 black bear. A bunch of mommas strolling around w/ their cubs. Dumb ass American tourists not budging as the little guys get w/in about 30 ft. You know momma could cover that ground in about 2 seconds flat if she got pissed.

[carolyn]

Thank you so much for the great stories. I laughed and smiled a lot!

Im so jealous of those who have spotted wolves...cascadeclimber was that you who said you saw a pack? They are my absolute FAVORITE animals.

I swear I saw one when I was in the boundary waters area a couple years ago. I was driving down a road and it was there one second on the side of the road and slithered away so quickly I didnt get a great look. No dog could move as sly and graceful as a wolf. Turns out there was a pack living in a gravel pit (of all places) about a half a mile away.

So, how abundant are bears in the N. Cascades?

I will DEFINATELY watch out for those goats, cute as they may be from afar.

Dru- that photo is AMAZING! Thanks for sharing it! If it wouldnt kill the server, we should start a thread with fav photos from the mountains.

Keep the memories coming! they are great!

be well,

be safe,

carolyn

[This message has been edited by carolyn (edited 08-18-2001).]

[This message has been edited by carolyn (edited 08-18-2001).]

[Uncle_Tricky]

Four or five Aprils ago, I found myself alone out at a remote cove on the Olympic Peninsula, somewhere North of Westport and South of Neah Bay. A nice 5-6 foot NW swell pulsed through the ocean. As I watched the water, I become aware of the geysers of humid breath springing into the air just beyond the breaking waves. Less than 100 yards from shore, 6-8 gray whales took time out from their northerly migration to feed and roll and play.

I suited up, negotiated the shorebreak, and paddled out to the shoulder-high right breaking on the submerged sandbar formed by the river which emptied into the bay. Even thought the air temperature was in the 40s and the water not much warmer, the weak April sunshine and light winds make the day feel balmy compared to the typical windy, rainy freeze-fests of spring surfing in the Northwest.

I saw a whale spout a couple hundred yards south of me, but the grays in my vicinity seem to have vanished. Then, as I sat watching the blue horizon for signs of an approaching set, I felt a strange electric sensation: the weight of eyes upon me. What is it, that distinctive feeling of being watched? A sort of sixth sense? An instinctual legacy from the time that us human animals were prey as often as we were predators?

I turned, and perhaps thirty feet from me, a huge, motionless whale head protruded from the water to a height a couple feet taller than my sitting form. In perfect detail, I could see the crease of the whale's mouth, the shiny wet skin mottled with patches of barnacles, and just above the waterline, a remarkably human eye looking directly into mine.

In that eye I saw intelligence and some sort of whale wisdom. After a few seconds of mutual consideration, the whale's head sunk slowly, casually back into the ocean. I was buzzing with adrenaline, filled with an powerful sense of awe from going eyeball to eyeball with one of the most massive creatures on the earth--in its environment, on its terms.

A smooth blue-gray set peaked outside and returned my attention to the waves. I paddled over the first couple waves in the set, then spun my board around and took off on the juiciest one of the group. A few minutes later I'm back outside.

Apparently I passed the appraisal of the matriarch or patriarch who came over to inspect me, because before long, there are several whales going about their whale business all around me, including a baby maybe 15-20 feet long that never strayed far from its mother's side.

For the rest of the day I surfed among several gray whales. Sometimes as I was waiting for a wave, a whale would surface headed in my direction then breathe, dive, and a few seconds later a big upwelling of bubbles would swirl to the surface right next to me as the whale passed unseen nearly beneath me. Other times, whales would appear as shadows in the faces of waves just outside of me, rolling like huge black sea serpents or corkscrewing along the surface, thrusting their massive flippers into the air.

They seemed to have perfect awareness of where I was. Like seals, they seemed to have a knack for surfacing behind me, as if they can tell where I am looking. I got used to the feeling of being watched, and often I would look over my shoulder and find myself face-to face with a curious whale sticking its head out of the water to get a better look at this crazy neoprene-blubbered pseudo amphibian. I'd look at them, and they would melt slowly beneath the surface, becoming first a submarine-like shadow, then disappearing all together.

In between waves, I would occasionally get a whiff of some horrible, rotten, fishy, low-tide stench. It was an overpowering smell that would last just a few seconds and then disappear. There's a huge number of seals and sea lions up here on the north coast, so its not uncommon to come across their decaying carcasses washed up on the beach.

Which reminds me of one day earlier that spring: After a few hours in the water, I was making my way back to my truck through the jumble of driftwood above the high-tide line, jumping from one piece of driftwood to another. Suddenly, with a sickening squishy sensation like stepping into a bowl of jelly, my leg disappeared into what had appeared to be a piece of driftwood. I looked down and saw that my foot had punched through the skin of a decomposing sea lion, and I was knee-deep in decomposing flesh and squirming maggots. The new hole in the long-dead creature released a toxic cloud of wicked stink that sent me running retching back towards the ocean to wash to slime off my leg.

Anyway, on this particular day the breeze was blowing gently off the ocean, so it couldn't be something on the beach. Probably just a dead and rotting seal floating around in the water outside of me. Still not a very comforting thought. If I could smell it, then whatever it was leaving a scent superhighway in the water--the olfactory equivalent of a huge flashing neon sign to the great white sharks that inhabit these waters: "FOOD! CARRION! COME AND GET IT!"

As I contemplated this unsettling thought, a twinge of paranoia entering my mind, a whale surfaced maybe 50 feet upwind of me and exhaled its breath with a loud whoosh. I watched the cloud of heated mist sparkle and dissipate as it blew slowly my direction and then Bam! I got hit with that powerful rotten fishy stench I'd been smelling occasionally all morning. Bingo! I just learned something: whales have REALLY bad breath! Further observation confirmed my discovery, and I was amazed how far the smell carried. Even if a whale blew 100 yards away, assuming the wind direction was right, there would be an appropriate time delay and then I would get a 2-3 second whiff of whale breath.

Truth be told, at first it was a little unnerving having shadowy creatures as big as busses swimming around and underneath me, but it was amazing how looking into the eye of that first gentle giant somehow personalized the experience and put me totally at ease. The whale seemed to assess me and then accept me as a harmless, if eccentric addition to their water world. From then on, I was surfing with friends.

[carolyn]

Uncle Tricky,

That was a great story to wake up to and read right before going to...WORK

Thanks for putting so much effort into it! It really was a pleasure to read and envision.

To many more moments like these in life!

carolyn

[glacier_dup1]

All right, here's one.

Last summer I was on Decatur Island, in the San Juans, at some friends' cabin. It was a no-agenda weekend, and I was sport-kite flying in a grass meadow. I took a pause (most likely to untangle strings or reassemble the kite), and paused for a moment to hear tiny clicking and popping sounds surrounding me. I thought it may be grasshoppers, but didn't see any. It took me a moment to realize that the sound was the hulls of the grass pooping open to spread their seeds. I took a few minutes to listen, and found the moment to be very sublime - sometimes Nature occurs in the interstices where we don't think to look (or listen). So when you make your way out here, don't forget to pause occasionally in silence and listen for the small things.