Sagebrush and Ancient Lakes

Last Saturday I went on a Mountaineers hike to Eastern Washington. I met the other hikers at the Preston Park and Ride just east of Issaquah at the inhumane hour of 6:00AM. We headed east on I90, made it over Snoqualmie (no lack of snow pack by the look of it), and took our first break at the rest stop on Indian John Hill. There disaster struck.

In attempting to put on my sunglasses, the left lens parted company and struck the pavement with an unpleasant cracking sound. So here it was, the first sunny day of the year, I'm on my way to the deserts of Eastern Washington, and now my best eye is threatened by all of the ultraviolet radiation that implies. The situation was clearly insupportable and something had to be done.

However, we continued our journey to the east and the familiar and wondrous change in landscape unfolded before us. The heavy underbrush and Douglas Fir of the rainy west side of the Cascades gave way to the open forests of Ponderosa Pine on the eastern slopes. A few more miles and the landscape opened up to the rolling hills, sagebrush, and big sky of the inland desert.

I always get a peculiar feeling on this drive. While I have consciously chosen to live most of my life on the west side of the mountains, all four of my grandparents and both of my parents spent a large portion of their adult lives on the arid east side. I myself spent most of my childhood there but have absolutely no desire to live in that environment ever again. I don't enjoy the extremes of its climate or the closed minds of too many of its residents. So what is this feeling I get? I think I have finally put my finger on it. My subconscious mind sees the brown hills of Eastern Washington and whispers: this is home.

But to continue the story: we continued east as I learned from my fellow hikers and carpool partners that 90% of the laundry businesses in Washington State are owned by Koreans. It's amazing what you learn in the Mountaineers. East of Ellensburg, hundreds of wind turbines are churning away on the hilltops, a major change from the last time I drove this stretch of I90. We crossed the supersized Columbia River (backed up behind Wanapum Dam) at Vantage and stopped off at the little town of George. George, Washington - get it?

We paused for a bathroom break at the convenience store in George and I had to make a quick decision on a pair of cheap sunglasses. The decision was not easy given that I had the biggest selection in town to choose from. However, I made my quick and somewhat random choice, walked outside and... the whole world was yellow. I've never worn rose-colored glasses, but now I can say I have looked at the world through urine-colored glasses and I really can't recommend it to the general public. I was told later that hunters prefer this kind of eyewear, the better to see the animals they are intent on blowing to bits. Whatever.

We continued our drive to the Quincy Wildlife Recreation Area during which I learned that Grant County supplies more than half of the potatoes that go into McDonalds' french fries. How proud I was to hear it. Take that, Idaho!

Finally, after driving on gravel roads through miles of desolate farm land we got to the trailhead and were on the trail by 9:00AM. Somehow, I was elected to be the lead hiker which, in reality, meant that I was the designated snake bait. The Northern Pacific Rattlesnake is common in these parts and, this being one of warmest days of the year to date, there was a high probability of sighting a few snoozing on a warm rock. Or slithering around on the TRAIL!! In any case, I kept a sharp lookout, scanning the ground from side to side as I walked. IS THAT A SNAKE?? Nope, just a big piece of dead sagebrush. WHAT'S THAT RATTLING SOUND?? Oh, just the breeze in the grass. After a while we got complacent, and decided not to worry about it. After all, the venom rarely kills. It just makes you wish you were dead.

Our route took us from the mouth of a coulee to its head. A coulee, for those who don't know, is a valley with nearly vertical basalt walls which was carved out by the numerous floods that took place during the ice ages. If you haven't read about these floods you should. It's an amazing story and makes you wonder what Noah was so damned worried about. What a crybaby.

At the head of the coulee there is a pretty lake with the undeserved handle of Ancient Lake. In reality, its water is merely irrigation runoff, which can't have been going on before Grand Coulee Dam was built in the 1930s. There are living human beings older than that who just might resent being described as ancient. In any case, the scenery was spectacular and the snakes decided to leave us alone.

On the way home, we stopped at the Ginkgo Petrified Forest State Park in Vantage where I saw a sabre-toothed tiger skull and learned yet another fascinating factoid. Standing at the top of the cliff looking a few hundred feet down to the Columbia, at the height of the floods the water surface was 500 feet ABOVE our heads. Now that's a flood that would put hair on your chest.

We stopped at the Yellow Church Cafe in Ellensburg for dinner where I had a religious experience, or at least an "Oh My God" moment when I realized the lowest priced item on the menu was $18! My Thai curried chicken was better than expected though.

We arrived back at the park and ride in Preston 14 hours after we left it and I hurried home where my beloved LazyBoy awaited me.