Aldo Leopold Society: Camp Catharsis, Day 3

Morning arrived with a day of transition for the cathartic campers. Some would venture to the Upper Phelps Creek basin for an up close and personal view of Dumbell Mountain (above), listed as one of the 100 highest peaks in Washington at 8,421 above sea level -- a strategic massif on the Phelps-Railroad divide, notes Fred Beckey.

Dumbell -- another whimsical mountain moniker among many created by A.H. Sylvester, the first Forest Supervisor of the Wenatchee National Forest -- towers over the basin. From the view looking south from Cloudy Pass, the mountain does indeed resemble a dumbell, but from Phelps Creek, it looks more like a La-Z-Boy recliner. 

A 1926 article in Mazama magazine titled “In The Glacier Peak Region” described Dumbell Mountain as “a ponderous gendarme in regal isolation and reaching to a dizzy height.” The mountain was likely climbed by miners in the prospecting era, considering its central location between the mining hubs of Trinity and Holden.

Others would have a camp day in the meadows. Others still would head "back to the barn.” As we visited and said our long good-byes, we chose the name “Cathartic Spire” (the pointy wizard's hat on the right, below) for the heretofore unnamed peak in honor of our summit meeting. A climb of the spire is in the works.

As one of those who needed to head out that day to attend to details relating to Owl Farm, I nonetheless thoroughly enjoyed my third day. Thinking ahead to next year, I scouted the Phelps Ridge Trail for a potential trip up Red Mountain. Another possibility is Leroy Basin at the base of Mt. Maude and Seven-Fingered Jack.

Proceeding to the trailhead, we discussed names from our past and reminisced about our halcyon days as wilderness rangers. Near the one mile marker on the Phelps Creek Trail, I paid my respects to Red Mountain Ole, one of the original miners in the area who is buried just feet from the spot where most pass by without a clue. 

Red Mountain Ole was one among many miners of his genre who toiled hard and braved extreme winter weather but seldom had much to show for their efforts. A colorful character, he roamed the ridges of the Upper Chiwawa River for years, trapping silver foxes for skins that fetched more money than what little gold dust he could muster.

After the long drive down Chiwawa River Road, and with a stop at Midway Grocery for a six-pack, we adjourned to the Owl Farm, and our lovely beach at the junction of the Chiwawa and Wenatchee Rivers (below). Word on the street is that a number of members of the Aldo Leopold Society are already talking “next year.”