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I did not think my plans for the day were overly ambitious. First, I would hike to Snow Lake, a familiar 6.8-mile round trip. Then I would add Guye Peak, which was only another 2.5 miles. Easy. The first half of the plan went exactly as expected. It had been about ten years since I last hiked to Snow Lake with friends, and it was nice to revisit a trail that had become one of the classics of the Snoqualmie Pass area. I made good time, completing the hike in about three hours

We pulled into the Twin Falls trailhead at 7:30 a.m. expecting the usual summer scene—a full parking lot and crowds streaming toward the trail. Twin Falls has long been one of the most reliable options during the winter months, and with its easy access and beautiful waterfall, it often feels like half of western Washington has the same idea. But the mountains had finally begun to open up. With the snow melting and higher elevation trails becoming accessible again, many hikers

It was a stereotypical day in the Pacific Northwest: gray and wet. You might think that would mean Washingtonians would stay home with a hot Starbucks coffee and a book, but that was not the case. Despite the low clouds and the promise of limited views, plenty of hikers were out enjoying the challenge of the trail. They were probably like me, conditioning for the long summer hikes to come, when the clouds take a leave of absence for a couple of months in July and August. Toda

This morning I needed a favor from my youngest son. His older brother Andy was moving out of his dorm in Bellingham, and I needed help. Someone would have to stay with the car while the other hauled boxes, bedding, and the accumulation of a year's worth of college life down from the dorm room. It wasn't a job I could do alone. When I asked if he wanted to come along, he said "No". The reluctance wasn't because he didn't want to help his brother. It wasn't because he had other

Despite running 7 miles most days, I am still finding my hiking legs. The treadmill is no substitute for trail miles. That became clear on the trail to Bandera Mountain this weekend. A few weeks ago, I hiked to Mason Lake, so I knew exactly what to expect on the well-traveled section of trail. The familiar forest, the steady climb, and the gradual gain all felt comfortable. But when I reached the junction where the Bandera Mountain trail forks to the right, everything change

Memorial Day weekend seemed to draw everyone outdoors. By the time my friend Mayank and I arrived at the Talapus Lake trailhead around 8am, it felt as if half of western Washington had the same idea. Cars lined the road far beyond the parking lot, spilling downhill in every available space. The sunshine, clear skies, and promise of alpine lakes were simply too much temptation to resist. This was Mayank's first hike of the year, and our outing became something of a compromise.

By 8:00 a.m., the parking lot was already full. It seemed everyone in Washington had the same idea for Memorial Day weekend. Every campsite around Lake Cle Elum appeared occupied. Vans, trailers, tents, and pickup trucks lined the roads near the rivers feeding the lake. Beyond them, a steady stream of backpackers headed up the trail toward Pete Lake and the wilderness beyond. For me, it was a trail-running day. The trail to Pete Lake is nearly ideal for running. Unlike many A

I arrived at the trailhead early enough that the forest still belonged mostly to the birds. The parking lot had plenty of space then, only a few scattered vehicles sitting quietly under the trees. The cool morning air carried the flute-like song of a Varied Thrush and the high buzzy notes of Townsend’s Warblers moving through the evergreens above me. For long stretches of trail, those sounds were the only company I had. The hike to Mason Lake is one of the classics of the Alp

I had an idea that made me laugh. What if On the Road was about two retirement aged people instead of a coming of age story? The first book I read of Kearoac was Dharma Bums. I remember a late teen borrowing it from the Bridgewater Public Library. I always felt different and these outsiders exploring nature and enlightenment spoke to me. Of course On the Road is the most memorable book. The title evoked the movement I imagined as a boy tracing the lines of the highways o

The Long Way Back to Snoqualmie Lake It had been about 20 years since I last ran the trail to Snoqualmie Lake. Back then, I was in my mid-30s and thought nothing of doing things like running Mount Si as a two-hour “fun run.” The trail to Snoqualmie Lake was just another outing—something to move through quickly, another checkmark in a week of miles. This time, it took me six hours round trip. Probably twice as long as it did 20 years ago. And that’s okay. The Fitness You Keep

A Reminder to Look Up The hike to Granite Lakes was a delight. The path was easy to follow, there wasn’t much snow, and the steady climb warmed me up after starting at 6 a.m. in 37-degree air. It was the kind of early morning hike that makes the alarm clock feel like a good decision. The hike toward Thompson Lake was a different story. Snow slowed everything down. I kept my head lowered, carefully following the footsteps pressed into the snow ahead of me. The problem was that

Is this the trail? I asked myself that several times on the hike to Marten Lake. Despite reading recent trail reports, I still underestimated the challenge this hike would present. After my experience at Loch Katrine last Thursday, I almost chose not to do this one at all. Even though it is spring break, it still does not feel like spring. Over the past week, I have had multiple random people tell me how sick they are of the weather and how badly they want to get out of here

There are days when a trip can be measured in miles, elevation gain, or time on trail. And then there are days like this one—where the story is told in fragments. An $85 annual pass.An Apple Maps fail.A long, winding forest road.Snow at elevation.Blowdowns stacked like pick-up sticks across the trail.Dozens of American Robins, several Steller’s Jays, a few Dark-eyed Juncos, a couple of Varied Thrushes, a Ruffed Grouse, a Hairy Woodpecker (first of year)—and one Black Bear.And

Snow, swallows, and the wisdom of turning around The plan was simple: a spring push up to Red Top Lookout. April in the Cascades can be a gamble, but optimism usually wins out over experience at 5:30 in the morning. Forest Road 9738 had other ideas. By the time I reached about 3,800 feet, winter was still firmly in control. A thin layer of snow covered the road, just enough to hide what mattered most—mud. The kind that doesn’t look like much until you’re stuck in it. I found

The CCC Road Trail stretches for 23 miles, but today wasn’t about the miles. Andy was home for the weekend, and it felt like a gift—an opportunity for an early morning forest stroll before life pulled us back in different directions again. No pressure to push pace, no need to rack up distance. Just time. The forest was awake in that quiet, layered way that only comes with spring mornings in the Pacific Northwest. The air carried sound more than light at first—birdsong echoing

There was no egg hunt this year—no plastic grass, no hidden candy, no frantic backyard search. Just a quiet Easter Sunday, a pair of trail shoes, and the pull of the forest. I pointed the van toward the Middle Fork, chasing that early April light that feels like a promise. The kind of morning where winter finally loosens its grip and the air carries just a hint of warmth. It was also an opportunity to try out my new pack, the Ultimate Direction Fastpack 20L A Head Start on th

Spring doesn’t arrive all at once in Washington. It seeps in slowly—first as a softness in the morning air, then as a thinning of the frost, and finally, if you’re lucky, as a flash of color that feels almost impossible after months of gray. For me Spring is embodied by the birds. I grew up in Massachusetts where the American Robin song was the harbinger of spring. This is not true in the Pacific Northwest where American Robins can be seen year round. Instead it is the arr

Some hikes feel like poetry in motion. Others feel like trying to run across a pile of wet bowling balls. Today’s outing on the Pratt River Trail near North Bend was definitely the latter. After spending the past couple of weeks running the smoother stretches of the Middle Fork Trail, I figured I’d mix things up and explore something a little different. The Pratt River Trail has always intrigued me. It runs deep into the valley toward Pratt Lake and eventually connects to l

I had a plan. An ambitious, knock-two-off-the-list, Alpine Lakes Wilderness kind of plan. Drive to the Dingford Creek Trailhead.Hike to Tin Cup Joe Falls.Circle back and push on to Goldmyer Hot Springs. Efficient. Bold. Productive. The first warning sign should have been Apple Maps. When I loaded the route to the Dingford Creek Trailhead, it said 3 hours and 45 minutes . “Huh?” I muttered. That can’t be right. It’s not that far past the Middle Fork Trailhead. I’ve been out t

Middle Fork Trail. Twelve miles roundtrip.A long effort.A different kind of run. Driving Into the Dark I left before sunrise. The road along the Middle Fork Snoqualmie River winds through shadow even in daylight, and in the pre-dawn black it felt like a tunnel through forest. The spotlights on the Vandoit van earned their keep that morning — lighting up curves, wet pavement, and the occasional reflective eyeshine deeper in the trees. There’s something grounding about starting