Chapter 18 ~ Page 249
What was so spell binding it was admitted later over coffee and Bernice's biscuits, was that they had spent two hours trying to get their own fire going. They had settled for a supper of cold beans. And they were just a trifle curious how I had managed to make wet wood burn, in under two minutes, with just one match.
An overnight snowfall of eight to ten inches changed the population statistics along the Cle Elum River. When crossing the road we met a ranger checking on stragglers. He claimed that there had been 1,000 hunters in this area over the weekend. He asked when we were moving out. Truthfully, I told him we already were on our way. I just didn't mention that the next road we would reach was thirty miles to the north, over a number of 5,000 foot passes.
Deception Pass is listed in our guide book as: "A broad divide with outstanding scenery. Beautiful flowers in season. Plentiful horse feed." Trusting that as an accurate statement we climbed through a whirlwind of white to what seemed to be the top. Then unpacking our shovel, I started digging. Our hungry horses soon got the idea that they too could paw down through the snow to reach grass.
By morning a stiff wind had cleared part of the meadow, and drifted the trail. With enough grazing to hold the horses we decided to try and set the storm out. We lay in our sleeping bags for warmth, and read. BJ shouted over a quote from Sir Francis Chichester's account of sailing single-handed around the world that, "Only a damm fool as myself would sail the roaring forties."
"That' s us Dad," BJ added.
Barry was right. Ahead were Surprise Gap and Trapper Pass, 5,750 feet, described as: "Impassable until snow has melted. Usually snowbanks are present through July 15th. Rock slide difficult for pack and saddle stock. Switchbacks over steep slopes, with turnouts." Only a fool would attempt that crossing, riding the tail end of a blizzard.
However, laying there, trying to drown out the eerie moan of winter flapping the door of my tent, by fiddling with the dial of our pocket radio, I happened to pick up a weather report. A Seattle station, after playing the song The Bluest Skies You Ever Saw Are Over Seattle, mentioned that another storm system was blowing in from the sea.
An overnight snowfall of eight to ten inches changed the population statistics along the Cle Elum River. When crossing the road we met a ranger checking on stragglers. He claimed that there had been 1,000 hunters in this area over the weekend. He asked when we were moving out. Truthfully, I told him we already were on our way. I just didn't mention that the next road we would reach was thirty miles to the north, over a number of 5,000 foot passes.
Deception Pass is listed in our guide book as: "A broad divide with outstanding scenery. Beautiful flowers in season. Plentiful horse feed." Trusting that as an accurate statement we climbed through a whirlwind of white to what seemed to be the top. Then unpacking our shovel, I started digging. Our hungry horses soon got the idea that they too could paw down through the snow to reach grass.
By morning a stiff wind had cleared part of the meadow, and drifted the trail. With enough grazing to hold the horses we decided to try and set the storm out. We lay in our sleeping bags for warmth, and read. BJ shouted over a quote from Sir Francis Chichester's account of sailing single-handed around the world that, "Only a damm fool as myself would sail the roaring forties."
"That' s us Dad," BJ added.
Barry was right. Ahead were Surprise Gap and Trapper Pass, 5,750 feet, described as: "Impassable until snow has melted. Usually snowbanks are present through July 15th. Rock slide difficult for pack and saddle stock. Switchbacks over steep slopes, with turnouts." Only a fool would attempt that crossing, riding the tail end of a blizzard.
However, laying there, trying to drown out the eerie moan of winter flapping the door of my tent, by fiddling with the dial of our pocket radio, I happened to pick up a weather report. A Seattle station, after playing the song The Bluest Skies You Ever Saw Are Over Seattle, mentioned that another storm system was blowing in from the sea.
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Text and Photographs © Barry Murray 1971-2007 Mac&Murray Multimedia