Gotta Have Seoul

Arrived in Seoul, South Korea on Sunday, September 13 after a long 14-hour flight from Eugene by way of San Francisco.

Why South Korea, a country I heretofore had no interest or inkling to visit? My purpose was two-fold: visit my daughter Gina, who is teaching English in Busan, and lecture on healthcare public relations at Sogang University, a Jesuit college located in the heart of Seoul.

Seoul is the capital of South Korea, and with a population of over 10 million people, is one of the world's largest cities.

The greater metropolitan area, which includes the major port city of Incheon, has nearly 25 million inhabitants -- making it the second-largest urban area in the world.

Almost half of the total population of South Korea lives in the Greater Seoul Metropolitan Area.

To give you an idea of the population density in this country, South Korea is nearly 39,000 square miles with over 48 million people living within its borders. Oregon, on the other hand, is over 98,000 square miles with a population of not quite 4 million.

Located on the Han River in the center of the Korean Peninsula (top), the city has been an important settlement for over 2,000 years when Baekje -- one of the three kingdoms of Korea -- established its capital in what is now southeast Seoul.

Seoul has one of world's most technologically advanced infrastructures and is often called the "tech capital of the world." Everybody -- and I mean everybody -- has a cell phone.

After arriving in the Incheon International Airport and passing through customs, I took a taxi to the Ibis Myeong-dong Hotel in downtown Seoul -- GonzoPR World Headquarters during my stay in South Korea.

I must admit, it felt a bit like I had just landed on the moon, only there were lots o' people milling about everywhere outside. Soon, I was to take my "giant leap" into the city streets of Seoul.

PCT, 8/28-31, 2009: Denouement

All in all, it was a great trip, though in my case, it was more challenging than it needed to be. Many lessons were learned. Losing the sole off my boot two miles into the hike was a bummer (thankfully, I had camp shoes), and my pack was too heavy at 38 pounds. Packing boot goop might have helped, and a lighter pack would certainly have made things easier.

But views like the shot of Mt. Hinman (above, in the background) made up a bit for the occasional misery when I hit the deck to avoid rolling an ankle. Eating huckleberries, ripe and ready-at-hand, also provided some respite and a good excuse to take a break.

Teo (above, resting amongst the yellow aster in Deception Creek) was a great traveling companion: friendly, curious and full of energy. He provided me and many others along the trail with a much-needed "puppy fix," as Lupe would say, for those like myself who need "dog as our co-pilot."

He also provided a wonderful deterrent for bear or any other critters that might get a wee too close to our campsite.

Facing a detour because of a forest fire after passing Cathedral Rock (above) provided an interesting twist that turned out well for everybody. Plus, we had the opportunity to interact with our counterparts 30 years hence, wilderness rangers for the Cle Elum Ranger District (although I don't remember us being that clean cut).

On our way back to Stevens Pass, Roger and I stopped at the 59er Diner near Lake Wenatchee for a hamburger: needless to say, it was "dee-lish." When we reached Stevens Pass, I spotted our friends from Cathedral Pass coming down off the PCT, so we pulled over and greeted them. "What took you so long," I joked.

Well, that's about it. I'm pleased to report that REI provided me with a $210 credit for a new pair of boots, and the friendly clerk noted that I should be in their "hall of fame."

So, from Owl and 'Roo (below), happy trails to you.

PCT, Day 4: Smelling The Barn

Thinking I had already witnessed the ultimate "melodies in nature" experience at Cathedral Creek, I was treated to yet another "symphony" on the morning of Monday, August 31 at our camp in Waptus Pass (above).

As I lay waking up pre-dawn, a variety of birds broke into song -- each chirping their own tune in concert with the other, with percussion provided by a woodpecker -- a wondrous melody. By the time the sun had lit the pass, the concert was over.

As we packed camp, we bade farwell to "Shootout," another PCT hiker who shared our campsite in Waptus Pass. Most long-range hikers on the PCT adopt pseudonyms during their trek; some of the more creative examples included "Banshee," "Salty," "Two Shoes," "Blister Butt," "Flicker," "Muleskinner," "Ice Cap," "Freebee," "Moondog" and "Mr. Zip." Kelly, Lupe and I had adopted ""Midweek," "Eight" and "Laslo," respectively, as our PCT pseudonyms.

So far, we had seen small critters like squirrels, pica and marmot, along with many types of birds. However, the only large mammal we encountered was this wilderness troll with an affinity for rock 'n' roll (left) along the Pete (Townshend) Lake Trail.

Despite the smokey air from the Lemah Fire in Waptus Pass, I could nonetheless "smell the barn," that unmistakeable sense of anticipation that I would soon be back at Owl Farm.

Heading down toward Pete Lake from Waptus Pass, I felt renewed vigor, anxious to emerge from the wilderness, but delighting in it nonetheless. We paused to examine the fungi patterns on an old Douglas fir stump (right and below).

Now on a flat trail, my pace quickened. Knowing Roger, he would be arriving earlier than the predetermined 2 p.m. We arrived at the Pete Lake Trailhead at Cooper Lake at 1 p.m.

Roger wheeled in at 1:15 p.m. and asked: "need a ride?" "Boy, are you a sight for sore feet," I replied.

Fetching Kelly, Lupe and Teo from Cooper Lake, we packed our gear into Roger's vehicle for the ride along the "alternate PCT," a pair of Forest Service roads leading to the Mineral Creek Trailhead in the upper Cle Elum River drainage. There, we temporarily said our goodbyes.

For me, it was time to "head for the barn" at Owl Farm.

PCT, Day 3: Fire On The Mountain

When I awoke early the next morning to take a few pictures (feeling better than I'd felt in days, I might add), I could hardly believe my eyes: the delightfully melodic stream known as Cathedral Creek had totally vanished!

Oh, the stream bed and little sandy beach were still there, but not a lick of water remained. Incredulous, we packed up our camp and continued down the trail toward Snoqualmie Pass.

The day before, we heard rumors of a fire on the Pacific Crest Trail from hikers heading north, though few had any specific details. That morning, however, we smelled the unmistakeable aroma of smoke from a forest fire. Passing hikers confirmed our suspicions.

The Lemah Fire, caused by lightning strikes in late July, had spread from 30 to 600 acres. The blaze had been whipped up by winds from the storm front over the Cascades on Friday, August 28. As a result, word on the trail was that a 20-plus mile of the PCT was now closed and an alternative route established, with wilderness rangers patrolling the access points to make sure that hikers used the detour.

Nonplussed, we continued on through Cathedral Pass where we witnessed incredible views of Cathedral Rock (above) and Mt. Daniel and Deep Lake (below). Though we could smell smoke, the Lemah Fire had yet to disrupt the stunning alpine perspectives. Once we passed Deep Lake, however, the smoke grew thicker.

Passing hikers informed us that a wilderness ranger was waiting for southbound hikers at the junction of the PCT and Spinola Creek, where a detour would take us down the creek from the PCT to Waptus Lake. The detour would then direct us over Waptus Pass, down to the Pete Lake Trail and out to the road at Cooper Lake. After another 15 miles of Forest Service Road to the Mineral Creek trailhead, the detour would connect back with the PCT about 12 miles north of Snoqualmie Pass.

Pondering my options, I thought about walking so far -- with full pack and cheap tennis shoes -- on hard road just to catch the last few miles of PCT. I knew that Kelly and Lupe would continue through the detour to their cabin at Snoqualmie Pass, but this would be my opportunity to make something happen for the betterment of all.

As we huddled with the wilderness ranger over a set of maps, I asked if he could convince the Cle Elum Ranger District dispatcher to put in a call for me. "Certainly," he replied, so I had him relay a message to my friend Roger Wallace -- retired Fire Management Officer on the Leavenworth Ranger District -- to pick us up at the Pete Lake Trailhead at Cooper Lake.

The reply came swiftly: Roger would pick us up at Cooper Lake on Monday, August 31 at 2 p.m., the dispatcher reported. We continued down Spinola Creek to Waptus Lake, crossed the Waptus River (Kelly and I in bare feet, Lupe with a new pair of crocs) and climbed the numerous switchbacks up to Waptus Pass, where we established our camp for the night.

PCT, Day 2: The Mystical Stream

Woke up in a chilly cloud at Trap Lake on Saturday morning, which meant a great day for hiking -- temperature-wise. Maneuvered the reasonably-brief set of switchbacks to the gap above the lake and off we went, passing by Surprise Lake and Glacier Lake on our way to the long, brutal slog up to Pieper Pass (elevation 6,000 feet).

Once through the pass, the weather improved, with flashes of sunlight peeking through the clouds as we made our way to Deception Lake for a lunch break by a beautiful rocky stream resplendent with yellow asters.

But, dear readers, this is not the "mystical stream" in the headline of this entry. More later. After lunch, Lupe (above) would push ahead and establish our next camp at Cathedral Pass.

I had decided that morning to hike in my camp shoes, a pair of old Sketchers. They worked well for the most part -- and though traction was lacking -- they were more comfortable than my Montrails, as my left boot (sans sole) was at least an inch shorter than my right boot.

Fortunately, the terrain accommodated my shoes, at least temporarily. As we contoured south on the ridge leading to Deception Pass, the trail was soft from the subalpine forest, and the view of Marmot Lake -- which resides in a huge mountain cirque across the wide valley -- was stunning.

However, my luck ran out at the Daniel Creek crossing: the climb to Cathedral Pass was steep and rocky. I hit the deck twice to avoid rolling an ankle. The steep climb was the final insult. Fortunately, I ran into two women hikers who assured my that my camp was established and waiting for my arrival a mere one-quarter mile away.

I picked up my feet and continued, arriving at the pass just below Cathedral Rock (bottom). The campsite was a mystical spot with numerous campsites and a sandy beach on a mellifluous creek.

Just as I arrived at our campsite, a northbound couple from Portland discussed staying in Cathedral Pass that night: they spoke of a stream that flowed vigorously in the evening, only to vanish by morning along this particular stretch of PCT.

That evening, as I drifted to sleep, I heard a number of different melodies and tunes in the sound of that creek, including classical, jazz and even a bit of Led Zeppelin. Later that night, I was awakened by silence: I could no longer hear the creek.

Puzzled but exhausted, I drifted back into a deep slumber.

PCT, Day 1: These Boots Are Made For Walkin' (Not)

After our last significant breakfast for several days at the Squirrel Tree Inn, Kelly, Lupe and I proceeded to Stevens Pass to begin the final portion of their trip down the Pacific Crest Trail from Canada. They have a cabin at Snoqualmie Pass, the southern terminus of their trip, and I would be joining them for this last leg.

Parked the Highlander (the "golf cart on steriods," as Kelly would say), with the requisite Northwest Forest Pass, at Stevens Pass at 10 a.m. Hiked up 2 miles through the Stevens Pass Ski Area over the ridge to the upper Mill Creek Valley where the 115 KV lines from Rocky Reach Dam provide the electrical lifeblood for Seattle and vicinity. Didn't take long for trouble to develop: the Vibram sole from my left boot came completely off as we crossed the upper part of Mill Creek.

These Montrail Moraines were rather expensive backpacking/climbing boots, and even though they were purchased back in 2000, I had worn them only a couple of dozen times. Despite the loss of the sole, the boot seemed serviceable, and I felt I could continue our trek. "Why don't you leave them here and come back for them later?" Lupe asked. "Nah," I replied, "I'll just pack them out."

Shortly after crossing Mill Creek, we passed the boundary sign for the Alpine Lakes Wilderness. I have looked forward to hiking this stretch of the PCT ever since I worked on temporary assignment as a writer/editor on the Alpine Lakes Planning Team at the Mt. Baker-Snoqualmie National Forest Supervisor's Office in Seattle in 1979-80. The 394,000-acre wilderness derives its name from the nearly 700 jewel-like lakes -- like Lake Susan Jane (above) and Mig Lake (below) -- nestled among high rock peaks and timbered valleys of the region.

After a delightful -- though taxing -- hike of 12-miles, a Pacific storm with a potential for lightning moved into the region, so we established camp at Trap Lake and called it a day. I set up my tent, rolled out the Thermarest and sleeping bag, popped a couple of Motrin and packed it in.

"REI is going to hear about these boots," I thought to myself, slipping into a deep slumber.

Base Camp Juan

One of the reasons we purchased Owl Farm (above) was so we could have a comfortable base camp for our backcountry excursions. The property is located in "mountain central" in the North Cascades of Washington state.

The property is bordered by the Alpine Lakes Wilderness on the south, the Glacier Peak Wilderness on the west and the Lake Chelan National Recreation Area, North Cascades National Park and Pasayten Wilderness to the north. Last week was the litmus test, and by all accounts, the investment has been a success.

Departed Eugene for the eight-hour drive to Owl Farm on Monday, August 24. I decided to arrive a couple of days early so that I could prepare the place for my erstwhile hiking companions coming down the PCT from Canada.

Good thing, because Kelly Tjaden and Lupe Marroquin, along with their dog, Teo, put in a monster 22-mile day on Tuesday and arrived at Stevens Pass a full day earlier than planned. Got the call at 6 p.m. on Tuesday, August 25: Kelly and Lupe were at Lake Valhalla, only two hours by foot on the PCT to Stevens Pass.

Motored up to the pass and picked them up at 8:15 p.m., two minutes after they had emerged from the hills. I mentioned to Kelly that -- if we hurry -- we could catch a pizza and a few brews at the Headwaters Inn at Lake Wenatchee before they closed at 10 p.m. 

"Let's go," he said, as he tossed his pack into the back of my rig. We hustled down Nason Creek and made it in plenty of time. The next day (Wednesday, August 26) would be a rest day at Owl Farm: trips to the beach, watching movies on my MacBook Pro, laundry in Plain and a junket to Leavenworth for supplies.

Friend and neighbor Frank Czubiak, another former Forest Service employee, arrived late on Wednesday in time for a grand reunion and potluck at the Owl Conservatory with some of our old backcountry buddies. On Friday, my long-awaited adventure on the Pacific Crest Trail was set to begin.