It had been raining off and on most of the morning, but there seemed to be quite a few breaks in the precipitation; so the hike was not necessarily jeopardized, especially given Jim’s adventurous inclinations. A quick viewing of the current Nashville radar revealed spotty showers would continue throughout the morning. I called Jim to feel him out and he said he was preparing for the hike. Well, I wasn’t about to wuss out; we cemented our 9am Radnor event.

I arrived at the Granny White parking lot at 9am, and I knew Jim would arrive momentarily after he dropped of his youngest at kindergarten – my alma mater, Otter Creek. As I drove past, I briefly recalled being the only one in my 1971 kinderclass who cried when a severe thunderstorm hit, and sitting in the teacher’s lap as she rocked and read stories to us. (I wonder when I became such a huge fan of inclement weather; it must have been after kindergarten.) I passed a few moments by reading a few entries in my current spiritual journal.

Jim arrived soon after the rain started again. We pulled on our hoods and met each other halfway in the parking lot. I noticed the rain drops beading and bouncing off his high-quality, all-weather attire and felt a twinge of envy as the rain falling onto me was absorbed into my cap. He suggested – and I quickly concurred – that we go grab a cup o’joe in lieu of hiking.

I followed Jim in the heavier and heavier rain to Portland Brew for a taste of the northwest – a bold taste. There were quite a few brew aficionados there already, but we handily snagged a table. There were so many brewsters there I was forced to park next door, and the possibility of being towed haunted me a bit throughout our tarriance.

After the first sip, I became an instant Portland Brew fan (one among many): the coffee is bold, the mugs are big, the clientele is hip, and the Internet connection is free. In fact, there were more people using their laptops here than at the Green Hills Starbucks (yelp) I have been frequenting on recent mornings; I will certainly use Portland Brew as an office in the very near future.

Our stopover was so engaging that my car tow haunting receded as much as it possibly could have. Jim Arnett and I have not talked – I mean, really talked – in quite some time, and it was wonderful catching up. We spoke of books, spirituality, ecology, spiritual ecology, politics, residential construction, Brown’s Creek, Otter Creek, mutual friends, and other miscellany.

Ah, books. Jimbo, as I affectionately called Jim back in the day, told me about two books he’d read recently which sounded interesting. The two authors come from identical ilk (identical to Jim and me, that is: Tennessee churches of Christ), making them almost instantly relevant, and have written cutting-edge (from a church of Christ perspective, that is) books about the application of this brand of Christianity to America’s current socio-political environment, or something along those lines.

Author Wendell Berry (about WB) came up in our absorbing conversation as well; I told Jim I’d recently purchased Berry’s A Place on Earth but had not read it yet. The only Berry book we’ve both read is Jayber Crow, and we lavished praise upon it as it deserves.

By the time we left, we’d set up a book exchange and dinner at his family’s Dale Avenue residence on an evening yet to be determined. Later in the day, his wife Danna had settled on a date and extended an invitation via email, which I excitedly accepted. All that remains is for me to carefully document and forward to Danna my dietary demands for next Thursday evening.

After a marathon travel day from Boston to Seattle on Saturday, an early start on Sunday wasn’t in the making. My friend Ben and I left his house in Everett, WA around 7:30 am for the Phelps Creek trailhead, west of Lake Chelan and north of Lake Wenatchee. The weather in Everett was classic for western Washington though more like spring or autumn than summer: high 50′s and misty. Having lived in Seattle for several years, my eternal optimism surfaced and I was hopeful that better weather awaited us on the east side of the Cascade crest. As a little background information, the western Cascades are noticeably lusher, wetter, and greener than the east side where the landscape is more like the interior mountain ranges than the coastal ones.

Sure enough, within minutes of descending from Stevens Pass, we began to see blue holes in the sky and the rain dissipated. We arrived at the trailhead around 11 am and set out for Leroy Basin where we would camp for the next two nights and three days. Our plans for this first day were uncertain; at a minimum, we were going to ascend from the Phelps Creek valley (elevation 3500′) to the campsite (6000′), but there was also the possibility of continuing beyond camp to ascend Seven Fingered Jack, one of two 9000+’ summits we hoped to stand upon while we were out. As it turned out, the weather continued to be somewhat a factor as the summits above camp were obscured by cloud and therefore not very attractive for continuing the 3000′ above camp. Instead we decided to explore a ridge above camp where we were treated to a variety of wildflowers and whistling marmots announcing our arrival. Upon our return to camp, Ben cooked up some dinner of asian noodles, fresh peppers and other assorted goodies while we waited to hear from our friend Todd who was to join us at camp that evening. Finally, after dinner, the two-way radio crackled to life and Todd gave us an update on his location and we were able to relax in the knowledge that he would join us as planned. The evening grew cool quickly and before long we were ready to turn in for the night.

The next morning reflected the tone of the whole trip: flexible schedule. While we certainly had objectives as previously mentioned, we didn’t feel much need to maximize every hour of the day. Thus, we were up around 6:30 and excited to see clear skies as the sun lit up the surrounding peaks. We were quite surprised at how cold it was when we got up, and even more so as the temperature continued to drop over the next couple of hours. The thermometer on my watch had dropped to 27 F by the time we were ready to leave camp! Because of our location within the basin, the sun didn’t reach our camp till around 8:45. Our first objective of the day was Seven Fingered Jack. As the name implies, this peak consists of a long ragged ridge of pinnacles or “fingers.” Our route took us up the side of the basin through meadow slopes, patches of alpine fir, mountain hemlock, and white pine to a “bench” where we were treated to patches of heather and snow…and a resident of this amazing alpine world. A few hundred feet above us, we spied a mountain goat watching us from his rocky perch. As we continued, he lay down and seemed content to wait for our passage. From here we began our long traverse over the talus and scree below the pinnacles to the actual summit block. Helmets provided some sense of security as we walked along the endless broken rock that had fallen from the cliffs above. Aside from a bit of confusion over which pinnacle was the actual summit, the ascent was uneventful. We were blessed with beautiful views from the summit, with only a few clouds lingering around the base of Glacier Peak and out on the horizon. We had a fantastic view of the steep dramatic north face of our other objective for the trip – Mt Maude. After the requisite photo taking, eating and phone calls, we departed the summit uncertain of what exactly the rest of our day would hold. There was still talk of attempting Mt Maude that day, though we knew we were a little tight on time and therefore would have to find the high traverse route described in our guidebook. Alas, it was not to happen, so we settled for exploring the lower part of the Mt Maude route for the next day’s ascent. It was during this reconnaissance that we came across impressive evidence of an incredible flood event that had occurred in the not too distant past. Ridges of boulders were stacked along the edge of drainages as by a landscaper and most amazing was the “super trench” carved in the slope; at least 20 feet deep and 40-50 feet across – it looked as if a giant ice cream scoop had been taken to the talus slope. We imagined what it must have been like when that feature was formed…whoa. It was an interesting challenge to find a way down and back up the other side of this obstacle. On the way back to camp late that afternoon we were treated to another treat of fauna as we came within feet of a mule deer buck gingerly making his way through the uneven footing of the talus and forested terrain. We were happy to be back at camp that evening and enjoyed another good dinner prepared by Ben. After the day’s activities, sleep came easily!

As events had transpired, our final day of the trip was going to be a full one as we planned to summit Mt Maude, return to camp, pack up, and hike back to the cars. With that in mind, we were up a little earlier and moving with more intentionality. This morning was even better than the last: not as cold and not a cloud in sight! The ascent was a beautiful one, especially the last 1000′ of climbing up a broad, open ridge to the summit. It always amazes me what variety of wild flowers and insects are found in the alpine zone. The views from the summit were unbelievable in all directions and to our surprise, we were even able to see peaks in the Olympic Mountain range over 100 miles away! The descent back to camp was uneventful, and we packed up and headed down the trail. One more wildlife treat awaited us as we neared the trailhead and the end of our hike. As we were hiking along, someone pointed out something waddling down the middle of the trail 100 yards in front of us. I was able to jog and catch up to it without the spiny critter even noticing: a porcupine! I hadn’t seen one of those in the wild since a trip in Rocky Mountain National Park over 15 years ago. Just one more interesting part of an amazing trip.

I hope to add pictures before too long.