CourtSchurmanGO.com 2024-11-20

Fire and Ice: How to Explore Iceland, Week 1

To summarize two fabulous weeks in Iceland into one 1200-word blog post is an impossible ask. I shared one of the highlights in my 9.17 post about following inner guidance. When a client recently asked about my process (50 journal pages and 2000 photos later), I replied that every international trip is different. She got me thinking of a two-part blog topic: How might others explore Iceland if they have two weeks? Below are highlights from week 1, counterclockwise from Keflavik to Lake Myvatn.

Four Organizing Principles

Looking back on this trip, the four organizing principles around enjoying the Ring Road with my family included:

Get everyone involved in the planning stage so the trip would be engaging and stimulating for all three of us
Be as mindful and present as possible, which meant writing 50 (not 150) journal pages and getting sleep at night, not naps — we tend to go hard and experience as much as possible
Explore on foot, whenever possible (I did 6 solo morning excursions), to experience each region more completely
Highlight one event per day, to “file” 14 mental video snippets in a more orderly way

Using this organizational strategy, I will try to summarize 2000 photos and two fabulous weeks into two posts, as we made our way counterclockwise around the island.

If you get to explore Iceland, we recommend visiting each region as they're different. My favorite sunset shot over Lake Myvatn, to conclude day 6. — If you get to explore Iceland, we recommend visiting each region as they’re different. My favorite sunset shot over Lake Myvatn, to conclude day 6.

Explore Iceland: See an Erupting Volcano

On August 29, my husband, daughter, and I took an 11 p.m. direct flight from SeaTac to Reykjavik, arriving at 1:30 p.m. local time on my birthday. Jetlagged, we set out to explore Iceland, deciding that our highest priority (after picking up our rental car and getting a SIM card) was to see the Svartsengi fissure eruption before it ceased.

We drove south of Keflavik to about 3 km north of Grindavik (Zone 1 in the linked map above), close enough to smell sulfur and catch sight of fountains spewing lava about 100 feet high. To keep my camera steady in the 20-30 mph wind, I ducked into a depression several feet deep which made photos appear to be right above the earth. This was my first international eruption unless I count those on the big island of Hawaii. What a memorable birthday experience!

Svartsengi fissure eruption south of Keflavik airport and 3 km north of Grindavik, Iceland.

Atlantic Puffins on Vestmannaeyjar Island

If day one’s highlight was the fissure eruption, day two was Atlantic puffins. We’d specifically designed our trip around the Ring Road to go counterclockwise to see the puffins before they migrated south. A late morning ferry took us to Vestmammaeyjar Island (Westman Island, also referred to as “Puffin Island” in bird parlance.) We drove to Storhofdi, the southern tip, and braved increasing winds to enjoy hundreds of puffins outside their burrows.

Parent puffin (orange feet and beak) and offspring (left) before it headed inside their burrow for protection. — Parent Atlantic puffin (with orange feet and beak) and its offspring (left) before it disappeared inside the burrow for protection.

Wood Stove Pizza

Not only did we enjoy the puffins, but we also enjoyed the best pizza I’ve had in over a decade. Who knew, on a little island? Pitsugerdin is a local Italian pizzeria with a wood-burning oven and delicious, unique choices of pizzas. Part of the challenge we faced was we wanted to explore Iceland cuisine. We ordered one cheese and tomato, one sausage, Pepperoni, peppers, and cream cheese (below). I had heard that European flour is different from US flour; I didn’t even worry about it not being gluten-free. Sure enough, we had pizza four times in two weeks, and I didn’t experience gluten sickness a single time.

As the wind picked up, our hiking prospects disappeared in the clouds, so we arranged to catch an earlier ferry to the mainland. Several children had captured pufflings (immature puffins) that got disoriented and ended up in town; their parents released the birds off the back deck so they could make it to sea.

Our return trip should have taken roughly 30-40 minutes. The seas were so rough that we couldn’t dock in Landeyjahofn; instead, our captain added three hours to our journey to reach a more protected port, Þorlákshöfn. (Don’t ask me how to pronounce it.) Had we kept to our original plan, we would have been stranded on the island overnight.

Explore Iceland: Visit the Golden Circle

Still facing high gusting winds, day 3 featured the Golden Circle, a high-tourist drive out of Selfoss that included walks around Kerid Crater, through Thingvellir National Park (where two plates diverge as new land is created), the Geysir geothermal area, and Gullfoss waterfall. Many people wanting to explore Iceland will hit the Golden Circle in a few days on their way elsewhere.

We felt a little as though we were geyser snobs. We’ve seen Old Faithful at Yellowstone National Park, so we expected a little more from Strokkur, in Geysir, which erupts roughly every 6-12 minutes for about a second.

Beautiful waterfall in Thingvellir National Park. — Beautiful Oxararfoss waterfall in Thingvellir National Park.

Muddy Gullfoss "golden waterfall" with a rainbow. — Muddy Gullfoss, a “golden waterfall” with a rainbow.

Our winner for the most unique experience on Day 3 was dinner at Ingolfsskali, a traditional Viking longhouse near Selfoss. My husband tried fermented shark and ordered the lamb dinner; our daughter tried the fish, and I had fried duck confit with lentils and cherries. Worth trying once. And no, I didn’t try the shark but I did try a tiny bite of dried fish that came with his order. My claim to Icelandic food fame was having Skyr (Icelandic yogurt) every single morning.

Fried duck confit with kale, lentils, and cherries. Delicious.

Our daughter gets into character with traditional Viking attire.

South Iceland Ice

Day 4 was our longest driving day. We traveled from a hostel in Holmabaeir to a quaint green cottage at Skaftafell, enjoying the glaciers and spectacular waterfalls along the South Coast. In the morning, we climbed 467 stairs up to the top of Skogafoss in Katla Geothermal Park, spending about 75 minutes admiring three of the many falls along the lower stretch of the river.

The end of our Skogafoss visit. Our daughter got close to the spray and came back soaking wet. I chose to keep my down coat dry.

As we continued to explore Iceland, we added a stop at Katla Wool Studio, a local yarn shop in Vik; a grocery store for a replacement water bottle that didn’t make it into the car from the previous Air B&B; Jokulsarlon Lagoon for wonderful photographs; and Diamond Beach to explore ice fragments sculpted by waves on a black sand beach near the glacier lagoon.

By this time, one thing we learned was to procure groceries at the local Bonus (with a round pink pig) whenever we spotted them, as they’re only open from 10 a.m.-7 p.m. or, in some locations, 12-5 on Sundays. Our dinner at a local Hofn pub was a delicious surprise. We each got an order of their version of “nachos,” plank fries with cheese and bacon.

Hike Studlagil Canyon

Among the many highlights of week one, Day 5 may have been the most memorable. Not only did we see stunning eastern fjords landscapes, but we had a lovely four-mile round-trip hike through some of the most stunning geology I’ve ever seen.

Our daughter researched the south and east areas of Iceland and found a gem of a hike known as Studlagil Canyon. We had a turn-around time to get to our lodging near Egilsstadir for a homemade dinner, so we headed out briskly from the parking area to spend as much time as possible exploring.

Imagine the forces that sheared through rock to leave these columns in twisted angles.

Over many years, this fault-strewn valley has been carved by powerful water, leaving vertical basalt columns intact.

One picture simply could not do it justice, so I’ve shared four. While my husband and daughter scrambled low over the eroded columns near the river, I explored the high path to the upper falls before finding an easier path to join them by the “island” in the center (lower right photo.)

Another great look at what the shearing forces left behind.

Explore Iceland: Take in Lake Myvatn

Beyond Studlagil Canyon, near Lake Myvatn, we caught our breath, staying for two nights (days 6 and 7) an hour south of Husavik. High winds were so strong — whitecaps on ponds had us guesstimating 40 mph sustained with 50-60 mph gusts — that our whale-watching trip out of Husavik got canceled.

Lake Myvatn is an oasis for birds and has many volcanic features around the edge. A wonderful biking/walking path is being built around the perimeter.

That didn’t stop us from visiting the “Diamond Circle“, North Iceland’s tourist loop akin to Reykjavik’s “Golden Circle.” In particular, we stopped briefly at Dettifoss and then discovered another hidden gem, Asbyrgi Canyon. It’s a horseshoe-shaped canyon forty-five minutes from Husavik with basalt walls about 100 meters high.

When we first came into a clearing, I gasped in surprise, partly because the water was so still (unlike the gusts we’d experienced all morning), and partly because the waterfowl were enjoying the peaceful solitude of the emerald water.

On our return drive to Lake Myvatn on day 6, we stopped at Grjotagja Cave (a small lava cave of Game of Thrones fame) and decided to hold off visiting Godafoss the following morning when it wasn’t as windy.

The peaceful serenity of the protected Asbyrgi Canyon.

We took advantage of some much-welcomed downtime for the first time since we began our journey. Our second and third nights of pizza (this time from Daddi’s Pizza) had us enjoying a family game of Skip-Bo and shooting photos of a beautiful sunset (see above).

Week 1 Takeaways

Out of 2000 photos and 50 journaling pages, it’s hard to give my top five takeaways for someone wanting to explore Iceland, but I’ll do my best.

Iceland is a destination in its own right, not just a stopover to other places in Europe. We had originally planned to spend 4 days in Iceland on our way to France, but we had too many things we wanted to experience. Each region is unique. To get the whole experience, driving the Ring Road made sense. Two weeks felt perfect.
There are SO. MANY. WATERFALLS! We found ourselves looking for other features and experiences. At one point, my daughter said something to the effect of, “How many waterfalls do we have to see?” Yes, we saw the most popular ones, but as you can see, Iceland has so much more to offer than just waterfalls.
The people! We met wonderfully kind Iceland hosts – hearty people who pretty much do everything because they have to. The evening after visiting Studlagil Canyon, we checked into the Litlabjarg Guesthouse. Our hostess prepared a delicious home-cooked meal for us of breaded cod and potatoes, salad, and a coffee cake even I got to enjoy — with a scoop of ice cream. Afterward, we chatted with her for a good half-hour. Delightful!

A delightful family runs the Litlabjarg Guesthouse in the mountains.

Icelandic home-cooked meal after our Studlagil Canyon hike.

Birds – we were under the impression that most of the birds would have flown south by September. But we encountered 53 species (30 life birds) including several hundred Atlantic puffins.
Language — because Iceland has such a small population, almost everyone learns English. We had no problems communicating; I even practiced French with a Frenchman who knew little English!

More to Come…

Rested from our stay at Myvatn and ready to continue, we headed into week two to enjoy, among other things, a petting zoo, horseback riding, northern lights, a witchcraft and sorcery museum, whale watching, and a trip partway up Mt. Esja which I’ve already posted. Stay tuned!

Change in the Wild: How Nature Guides Personal Growth

My birthday outing at the end of August did not go as planned, but that’s what life consists of — plans B, C, or Z. As I hiked, I thought, “And THEN…” thinking up possible themes for another blog about change. I could write about “life is what happens when plans fall apart.” But that had such a negative slant to it. Instead, I embrace the idea that nature guides personal growth.

Dramatic skies from high on Mailbox Peak.

The Threat of Illness

Ever since my daughter saw pictures from Blanca Lake several years ago, we’ve wanted to hike it together. We intended to go for my birthday hike two days before our trip to Iceland, but I came down with a bad cold on Monday, the day before our target hike. I did everything I could think of to get better: hydrating, soaking in the hot tub, grounding, taking extra vitamins including C and Zinc, sucking on honey-infused cough drops, and going to bed early. My daughter agreed to the suggestion that I’d wake her if I felt like I could hike. Otherwise, she would sleep in.

On Tuesday, I had zero congestion. Excited about our hike, I checked on my daughter. She’d stayed up until 1:30, and when she learned it was raining, she curled up under her blankets. Partnerless, I considered my options. My first thought was exploring the east side of Squak. But I wanted to do something more memorable for my birthday. I left a note saying I would be at Exit 47 hiking to Pratt Lake.

The new Mailbox trail is a lovely meandering path through the forest. There's not much to see (and very few people on it) except fascinating trees until the trail merges with the steeper Old Trail. — The new Mailbox trail is a lovely meandering path through the forest. There’s not much to see (and very few people on it) except fascinating trees until the trail merges with the steeper Old Trail.

As I headed out the front door alone, Ajax tried to join me. I’ve decided to cap him at under 8 miles and less than 2000′ gain to protect his ailing left hind leg. When I scolded him and lured him back inside, he looked at me like I was ripping his nails off his claws. I couldn’t risk him reinjuring his leg two days before our Iceland vacation. That would not help HIS personal growth.

A Change in Destination

A big fender bender in downtown Seattle added more than 30 minutes to my travel time. Having left the house later than usual (I’d waited until the last possible second to wake my daughter), I got off at Exit 34 intending to try Teneriffe (13 miles/3,800′ gain, a desired mileage challenge on my physical journey to personal growth). But that hike is accessible from Exit 32 (oops), and I didn’t feel like backtracking. Faced with a choice between Granite Lake (which I’d already done twice this summer) or Mailbox, I chose the latter.

I pulled into the Mailbox trailhead parking lot around 8 a.m. Four cars sat in the upper lot and four more in the lower lots. In the fog and mist, I started up the new trail around 8:15. Now I just had to hit 9.4 miles and 4000′ elevation gain. By myself. Fortunately, the second time hiking solo felt better than the first on Tiger. With no bears.

Fall colors are beginning to turn on the boulder field, which gets more exposure.

All Kinds of Weather

The first part of the new trail on Mailbox is lovely, covered in Doug firs, cedars, and pines, so even in the wind, rain, and sleet I didn’t get too wet or cold. I kept my raincoat on for the first and last 1000′ of gain, stripping to a long-sleeved shirt for the 2000′ gain in the middle of the hike. A woman who left the parking lot just after I did caught up at the base of the boulder field. She turned back just as the wind and sleet increased.

I got lucky. The precipitation stopped when I was 300′ below the summit, gracing me with a beautiful rainbow. At the summit, I gratefully pulled out my down coat and enjoyed parting, swirling clouds and a pair of juncos foraging near me as I doctored a small blister and then ate some trail mix. The sleet had chased the last pair of hikers from the summit a few minutes before I arrived so I had the whole summit to myself.

A rainbow formed over North Bend near the summit of Mailbox, reminding me of the healing and personal growth one can experience in nature.

Smoother Sailing

The 5-mile return trip to the car reminded me of other recent hikes — the blue stains on rocks had me looking for blueberries and huckleberries, but I didn’t find any large clumps worth picking. I kept my eyes open for fall colors and saw brilliant red berries. It was still on the early side for the beautiful autumn display I know will come soon. I thought about my dog’s health, my daughter’s return to campus, my family’s upcoming vacation in Iceland, my journey with personal growth, and the exam results I might receive on my return.

As I often do, I chanted aloud, “I’m grateful for x.” It felt funny talking without Ajax there to hear me. Instead, I tried a new silent alphabet game that challenged me to come up with four things for each letter, such as “Annabelle is an Accountant from Anacortes who takes Acrobatic lessons.” Some of my creations made me laugh. It helped the solitary miles pass more quickly.

My birthday selfie with the infamous mailbox at the summit of Mailbox Peak on August 27th. The clouds gave it an atmospheric look.

Return to the States

Following two glorious weeks in Iceland, my return to the Pacific Northwest mountains left me with mixed feelings. On the one hand, I was delighted to have Ajax rejoin me on a shorter hike. I took him to Whittaker Wilderness, Shy Bear Pass, and Doughty Falls, a hike I’ve written about several times. (See Skills and Habits, April 2024; Take Action, August 2023; Expect the Unexpected, July 2023). He has been an enormous contributor to my personal growth over the past decade.

On the other, I faced post-vacation blues, worries about my new coaching venture, and concerns for both my dog’s health and my interrupted sleep (Iceland is seven time zones ahead of Seattle).

Ajax takes a short rest at Cougar's Whittaker Wilderness summit bench on September 17. — Ajax takes a short rest at Cougar’s Whittaker Wilderness summit bench on September 17.

Take-Aways

Perhaps I had faulty expectations that I’d feel recharged, invigorated, and ready to conquer the world after two weeks of vacation and passing my exam. Instead, I felt fatigue and fear. What now? Mistakes and failures are inevitable as I venture into uncharted territory on my journey to personal growth. But I don’t want to focus on those. Instead, I want to think about all the good that might be just around the corner. That makes me excited.

We make our reality. If we constantly focus on fear and worry, all we see will be things that make us fear and worry. If we focus on gratitude, we’ll find plenty of things to be grateful for. I want to focus on connections. On possibilities. On learning, and opportunities.

If you look for fear, you'll see it. If you look for love, you'll find it everywhere. Choose to focus on love, not fear. — If you look for fear, you’ll see it. If you look for love, you’ll find it everywhere. Choose to focus on love, not fear.

By writing my most recent post about quieting the negative critic and listening to my inner guidance, I shifted that tired, scared self into one who has quiet expectations for the future. Anything is possible. And the pages are waiting for me to fill them. I choose to look for love, not fear.

What’s more, now I get to share all of my wonderful Iceland memories. So let the storytelling begin – both about the trip and the next chapters of my life. As I always sign off with clients, Onward, upward, forward! If you have stories to tell about your personal growth, please include them in the clients. I love hearing from readers.

How to Listen to Your Inner Guidance

How does your voice of inner guidance get your attention? Is it strong and demanding? Soft and timid? Does it whisper or yell in moments of uncertainty? I’m not talking about your inner critic, but rather your spiritual voice of innate wisdom. If you can’t identify it, how do you listen to it? I never knew whether I could hear my inner guidance — my inner critic is so dominant — until last week, during a solo hike of Mt. Esja in Iceland.

Private property on the south side of Iceland. Imagine living at the base of a beautiful waterfall!

Iceland’s Ring Road: Two-week Stay in Air BNB’s

My husband, our daughter, and I spent two weeks driving counter-clockwise around Iceland’s Ring Road. We stayed at Air BNBs and hostels rather than hotels. During our last two nights near Reykjavik, we had our first experience with glamping. Our quarters were the front third of an articulated bus. Online, it looked like we’d have plenty of space. Cramped is an understatement. Memorable? Definitely.

During those two nights (September 10 and 11), we were fortunate enough to witness two spectacular displays of northern lights. Despite staying up late, on our last day I rose with the sun and couldn’t get back to sleep. Resigned to being up and determined not to wake the others, I eased silently out of the bus door, leaving my phone and digital camera batteries charging.

My Physical Journey: Inner Guidance on Mt. Esja

One of my favorite things to do whenever we travel internationally is explore new areas on foot, usually in places where we stay for more than one night. Now or never! I decided to follow the sign toward Mt. Esja and see where it led. What might an alpine trail in the Iceland highlands look like?

In Washington State, I hike on established trails that I can research ahead of time. I’d heard of Mt. Esja from doing extensive research, but as I gazed up at the mountain I couldn’t see any obvious trails. Perhaps the trail was on a different side. Undaunted, I followed the faint grassy path over private property until it became a footpath that disappeared altogether.

Our glamping lodging for the final two nights in Iceland was the front third of the bus pictured above at the base of Mt. Esja, the high, spired point in the center of the photo. We were twenty minutes northeast of Reykjavik.

The Climb

As I climbed through long grass and over deep, spongy earth, I listened for birds and running water. The grass gave way to rocky rubble, and the grade steepened. After ten minutes I stopped to see how far I’d come and set a turn-around time of 45 minutes.

I felt a buzz of excitement. I was climbing Mt. Esja! In Iceland! By myself! Without a trail! I had nothing with me but a baseball hat and neck muff. How would I document my exploration? What if something happened? Nobody knew where I was. Still, I climbed. I set my sights on a rock band and headed straight toward it, looking for any signs that someone had been there before me. But once I got to rock rubble, any evidence of foot traffic disappeared.

The triangular patch of shale just above the rock band is where I met my turn-around time. I found the voice of my inner guidance on the way down.

I reached the rock band in about 35 minutes. Yearning to go higher, but aware that I only had a few minutes left, I traversed until I could look down on one of the valleys. A bird with a dark head and white body soared from a cliff. Black-headed gull or razorbill? I’ll never know for sure. When I felt raindrops and saw them on my down jacket, I knew it was time to descend. Traveling over wet rubble would only become harder.

The Descent

I needed to go down the same way I’d climbed up to avoid running into cliffs. My inner critic took over. “Most accidents happen on the way down.” “Don’t do anything stupid.” “Nobody knows where you are.” “You should have brought your phone.” “You won’t find any walking sticks because there are no trees.” “What are you going to do if you fall?” She’s strong and relentless.

She’s also not at all helpful, even though she thinks she is.

I paused to take a few deep breaths and think through my options. By double-wrapping my purple neck muff around my right wrist, if I did slide, I wouldn’t lacerate my hand. Been there and done that, no repeats, please!

My hour-long journey took me 1000' up past the grass and "pyramid" rubble to just below the green "V" above the rock band. — My hour-long journey took me 1000′ up past the grass and “pyramid” rubble to just below the green “V” above the rock band.

Keeping my center of gravity low and over my heels, and eyes on the rocks a few steps in front of me, I set my sights on the “doorway” through the rock band. I squared my shoulders and my inner guidance took over. “You got this.” “You’re strong.” “Slow and steady.” “One step at a time.” I carefully made my way back down over the loose rocks, gaining confidence as rubble turned to rock, grass, and finally path.

When I returned to the bus an hour after I started, our hostess grinned, so pleased that I chose to explore her mountain. Two other guests sounded surprised to see me back so soon. “We were watching your progress,” one said. “You’re fast! How did you know where to go?” I didn’t, I just took a chance and went. And found the inner voice of trust, confidence, and peace I’d sought for two weeks.

The Mental Journey: Inner Guidance at Work

Similarly, I am on a parallel mental journey in my career. At times, launching a new health and wellness coaching company feels like charging up Mt. Esja. Infinite options without a clearly defined path. My inner critic is having a field day. “You’re too old.” “You don’t know all the steps.” “Nobody has done what you want to do.” “It’s too much work.” “You’re going to fail.”

A brilliant sunset at Lake Myvatn where we experienced some of the strongest winds -- sustained 40-50 with gusts up to 60 mph. — A brilliant sunset at Lake Myvatn where we experienced some of the strongest winds — sustained 40-50 with gusts up to 60 mph.

What climbing Mt. Esja taught me is that listening to the inner critic doesn’t help. My new challenge, then, is to notice when she’s taken over and make every effort to quiet that voice so I can hear my inner guidance.

My husband even suggested I replace the image of teetering on a tightwire (where every move I take could result in falling off) with a great big concrete slab that is my foundation of knowledge (where I hover an inch above, with nothing to fear). The only way to fail is to not try.

I have more than 25 years of experience helping people. My clients get results. I don’t have to solve everyone’s problems, I just need to be willing to collaborate, listen, stick to my principles and values, and try new things.

Mt. Kirkjufell on the Snaefellsnes Peninsula. I took a solo early morning walk to photograph the mountain and waterfall without tourists.

Like heading up Mt. Esja with nothing more than a baseball cap and neck muff. I don’t need to know the outcome and I don’t need perfection. But I do need to be willing to make mistakes.

I have developed a new mantra: embrace fear, failure, and mistakes as my best teaching tools.

The Power of Inner Guidance in Times of Change

That progress halfway up the mountain reminds me that THE JOURNEY means more than the destination. Younger me would have said, “You failed to reach the summit.” Wise Me says, “You found your inner guidance. Trust it. Rely on it. Nurture it.”

The day after we returned to Seattle, I had good news waiting for me: I passed my NBC-HWC exam and am officially a national board-certified Health and Wellness Coach.

I don’t know the exact path forward yet, but I know that Mt. Esja has shown me that I can find peace and confidence no matter where I am. As long as I take consistent action. So I’m taking a deep breath, and here I go!

Whether you are in the mountains or facing a major life transition, trust your inner guidance, not your critic. We may not know exactly where we’re headed. But if we give it our all, and stick to our principles, our best effort is good enough.

How to Enjoy Rain: Try a Foggy Hike to Mason Lake

On Tuesday, August 20, my daughter and I added another hike to our “recently completed Alpine Lakes” list. I’d given her the choice between Mason Lake and Blanca Lake. We decided to save Blanca for the following week, hoping for better weather. Our foggy, soggy visit made me think of how we might more fully enjoy rain. The berries, changing fall colors, and fading wildflowers reminded me of how the changing season parallels life changes.

Mason Lake on a foggy, midweek August morning.

Why Hike in the Rain?

Most people would argue that summer in the Pacific Northwest is the best time to hike. My daughter, dog, and I disagree. I prefer hiking in the early morning, on shaded trails, or on overcast days to avoid heat and energy-zapping sun. As wildfires over the past few years have made summer hiking less pleasant, I’ve grown to appreciate shoulder season hiking. I’ve even written about enjoying rainy-day hikes including Wallace Falls (Father’s Day 2023) and McClellan Butte (May 31, 2024).

Rain keeps temperatures more comfortable and crowds away. When we arrived at the popular Mason Lake trailhead at 8:30, there were only ten cars in the parking lot. And by the time we returned, we counted thirteen. Usually, by 2 on a summer afternoon, the Mason Lake Trailhead lot is full to overflowing.

We had a foggy, rainy start to our trip. A little over an hour into our trip we found a way to enjoy rain by stopping at a vista which revealed dramatic clouds moving quickly in the valley below us.

Rain helps minimize the dust and reduces fire threats. It adds texture, flavor, and dimensionality to atmospheric photographs. Unfortunately, on this hike, my daughter forgot to charge her phone on the hour-long drive, so she started the hike in a sullen mood. While I promised to take whatever photos she wanted, I also wanted to protect my phone from the rain. As much as I wanted to enjoy rain, the reality is it can destroy your phone!

Rain Considerations

My new waterproof Frogg Toggs rain jacket worked great, but without pockets or a long hem to cover my shorts, I had to keep my hand over my phone to keep the rain from soaking in. I’d left my pack rain cover at home, but at least I had a plastic bag to protect my wallet and journal. After hiking 1.6 miles, we stopped to take a break before the trail started to climb in earnest. One look at her “drowned cat” photo (her coat was water-resistant, not waterproof) had us both cracking up. The silence was broken, and we could enjoy ourselves.

Takeaways

If you are considering hiking in the rain, you might want to add the following items to your basic packing list to stay comfortable.

Waterproof jacket and pants
Pack cover to keep your pack contents dry
If you don’t have a cover, a trash compactor bag inside of your pack also works great
Gaiters, which are ankle covers for your boots to keep rain (and snow) out of your boots, and socks dry
Cell phone protector – I just ordered one for my upcoming trip to Iceland, since we’ll be there at the start of the rainy season

Enjoy Rain as a Seasonal Transition

Our hike to Mason Lake presented us with three gifts that reminded us of our goal to enjoy rain: we caught the tail end of wildflower season, including Beargrass stalks, fireweed, Indian paintbrush, pearly everlasting, and lupines. While we only heard seven bird species, we spotted a pica and heard several others in the talus slopes.

Indian Paintbrush and raindrops lead to charming photos.

Maples just beginning to show fall colors.

The maples are just starting to turn color in places, sparking joy in me as I recalled some glorious fall hikes I’ve shared in this blog, including last year’s October hike to Granite Mountain and another to Snow and Gem Lake in 2022. While fall feels like it’s arrived earlier than usual this year, I know when I return from Iceland there will be plenty of opportunities to catch beautiful fall colors.

And the best seasonal transition of all is TONS of delicious thimbleberries, blueberries, and huckleberries. We spent an hour collecting huckleberries near the lake and as we traversed the boulder field, in part waiting to see if the clouds would disperse and also because we’ve enjoyed other hikes to collect berries including on Mt. Catherine two summers ago and last August at Peek-a-Boo Lake.

My daughter heads up the rocky trail toward the ridge crest, through fireweed, ferns, and picas.

Takeaways

Change is hard but unavoidable. We may want things to stay exactly the way they are, but maybe we can build our “change muscles” by identifying things to look forward to. For hiking in the fall, fewer people on the trails, beautiful autumn colors, and cooler temperatures excite me even though I know one of my summer hiking partners will be returning to college soon. I can continue to enjoy rain for the next eight months.

Losing a hiking partner – temporarily or permanently – may feel like a huge loss, but when I think about trails I could explore that my current partners cannot, I get excited about the possibilities. A mother facing an empty nest might embrace change as a way to learn more about herself and where she wants to head in the next few years. Someone starting a new job might anticipate meeting different people, receiving benefits, and learning new skills. Just as Mother Nature adapts to the changing seasons, so, too, must we.

We encountered an adorable Bernedoodle named Maple who made me miss Ajax even more.

Navigating Unpredictability

One thing we expected from a mid-August hike was warm temperatures so we could swim in the lake. With temperatures in the low 60s, we didn’t see anyone swimming, but we did see one family carrying fishing gear. Back home at the last minute, I shoved a fleece jacket and down coat into my pack. They’re light and compressible. I never expected we’d use both on the descent. Something else I will add to my pack for future hikes: a large gallon-sized bag or collapsible plastic container that doubles as a berry bowl or trash container.

What I did not expect was slowing down as we traversed the boulder field. Historically, I’ve sped up to get to the shade so the heat won’t negatively impact my dog. But without him along, and with so much to see in the open space, we took our time to enjoy the berries, picas darting among the rocks, and changing foliage.

The most enjoyable part of this trail was heading through the boulder fields where critters, berries, and early fall colors surprised us at every turn.

Takeaways

As with any change journey, if we have an end destination but relax our “rules” or “shoulds” for getting there, we can enjoy side paths that crop up unpredictably. Think about the last big change you encountered. What were some unexpected obstacles you had to overcome? What did they teach you? When do you most enjoy rain?

Change has taught me over the past three years that things always work out. They may not work out the way I initially expected they would, but humans are remarkably resilient and adaptable beings. I continue to learn to trust the universe and myself.

A tiny chipmunk stuffs berries in its cheeks before darting away.

Enjoy Rain through Mother-Daughter Bonding

During the first 1.6 miles of the hike, my daughter trudged out in front of me. I hung back to shoot pictures of the bridge over the falls. Was there something more than disappointment at not charging her phone? Could I come up with a game for us to play? Were there more topics I could bring up besides what we’d already discussed in the car?

When we laughed at the wet-cat photo and enjoyed exploring the boulder field, all my worries disappeared. It turns out my daughter had an upset stomach from eating too many raisins too quickly. But she didn’t share that until we were headed down.

By the time we reached the sign at the turnoff for Bandera Mountain and Mason Lake, my daughter was more talkative, more engaged, and more cheerful, perhaps because the rain tapered off. Maybe because she knew we were getting close to the lake.

Maybe she was reflecting on everything she accomplished this summer. She aced an Intro to Quantum Mechanics course at UW, her first summer class ever. She also worked part-time helping several neighbors, entered three projects at the Washington State Fair, and passed the written test for her driver’s permit. In a week our family will be driving around the Ring Road in Iceland. If I think my life is full of change, hers is in even more turmoil. Silence doesn’t necessarily mean disappointment. It can also mean deep thinking. Perhaps she doesn’t enjoy rain as much as she says she does.

Takeaways

Our parental role over the past ten years has evolved from disciplinarian to consultant, as we relinquish responsibility and let her struggle to make her own decisions. As someone who bordered on a helicopter parent, letting go has been a challenge. However, seeing her evolve into the confident and competent young woman she is brings me immense joy.

On the hike down, my daughter wore my down jacket and I wore my fleece. This time of year in the Cascades we usually have hot, dusty days but fall appears to be here early this year. I miss certain aspects of childhood, but I love the confident young woman she's become. — On the hike down, my daughter wore my down jacket and I wore my fleece. This time of year in the Cascades we usually have hot, dusty days but fall appears to be here early this year. I miss certain aspects of childhood, but I love the confident young woman she’s become.

And having her along on hikes the past two summers has been a real blessing. We may not have been able to do as many this summer because of everything she has going on, but that has inspired me to reach out to other people. Her evolving role as a university student and workforce member has paralleled my evolving role as a health coach, confidant, and solo hiker. While it’s sad to leave the childhood years, I’m excited to see what comes next for us both as we move forward.

Embrace Change with an Open Heart

Hiking provides me with focused time I don’t get anywhere else. I’m looking forward to visiting Blanca Lake with my daughter in a few days, our last big lake hike of the summer before she returns to the university as a junior. When we’re in Iceland, I’m sure we’ll have inevitable conflicts and clashes that occur when three strong-willed people travel together for two weeks.

The shore of Mason Lake near one of the camping spots. We'll return next summer so we can try swimming when it's warmer. — The shore of Mason Lake near one of the camping spots. We’ll return next summer so we can try swimming when it’s warmer.

Whatever change you are experiencing, nature can guide and inspire you. I always have more clarity when I return from a walk with Ajax or a hike in the woods. Perhaps the single most important revelation for me is I am more present away from home than in any other place. I notice things I don’t see anywhere else. I’m ready for the next chapter.

If you have any tips on how you enjoy rain, or revelations you’ve gleaned from your time in the mountains, please share them below. I love hearing comments from readers.

Three Bears: How to Survive Encounters on Tiger Mountain

My precious hiking companion, Ajax, is nursing a strained left hind paw. This has led to nostalgia and heightened senses for me on my most recent hikes without him, including last Friday’s epic hike on Tiger Mountain. I dubbed my WTA trip report “Courtilocks and the Three Bears.” Trip reports are factual representations of hikes to help other hikers decide on gear, appropriate trails, and any lessons learned. Here I share what it was like to encounter three bears without my trusted sidekick.

The view of West Tiger 2 from West Tiger 1. Timber harvesting from several years ago has left the summits bare but the wildflowers can be spectacular.

My Dogless Adventure Begins

Last week, Ajax strained his left hind leg. When he wouldn’t put any weight on it, we took him to get X-rays. They indicated general wear and tear, nothing that would require surgery. However, the sedative they had to use aggravated his digestive tract for several days. He didn’t want to eat. There was no way he could hike a mile, much less ten. Wanting to stay near home, I headed to Tiger Mountain to try a hike I’d only done once before.

This was the first time I’d hiked solo – no people, no dog – in many years. Maybe ever. As I drove to the trailhead, I kept imagining Ajax lying stretched out behind me — even turned once to check on him, before remembering he was home. When I put on my pack, I opened the back door, half expecting him to leap from the back seat. But I was alone. A steller’s jay cawed a welcome. Aloud, I said, “You’re still with me, Little Man.”

The last time I did this hike was late morning on June 21. Ajax nearly cooked. This time, it was windy, overcast, almost chilly.

High Point Trail Encounter

I headed up from the High Point Trailhead just after 6 a.m. on August 16th. My hike up was pleasant enough, even uneventful. Until 10 minutes before I reached the summit of W. Tiger 1. Branches crackling left and right made my heart race. Deja vu! My senses had already been on high alert for 90 minutes, without Ajax around to assist me with his keen ears and nose.

My calls of “Hey bear, I mean no harm, bear” were as much to calm me as to alert whatever was out there. To my right/west about 25 yards away I saw several tall ferns and Devil’s clubs shaking as something big moved away from me. I didn’t linger to get eyes on it. My heart rate increased and my head said, Keep moving steadily.

I found fresh bear scat on the path between the two bears, ten minutes below West Tiger 1 summit.

To my left/east in a valley, more Devil’s clubs swayed as another big creature moved away from the trail. Cripes, am I between two bears? I saw fresh bear scat in the middle of the trail and knew these could be two of the three cubs I’d learned were in Tiger’s forest on June 21.

By this time, my heart was racing, and not from exertion. I had to get out of there, but which way was safer? My only saving grace was they seemed to be just as nervous around me as I was around them. They didn’t want to have anything to do with me. But what about Momma? The only way past seemed to be — loudly — walking briskly straight through.

Decision Time: A New Route Down

Once I came out of the woods ten minutes later at the Tiger 1 viewpoint, I felt like I’d escaped danger. Winds buffeted me, but at least visibility was greater than 30 yards. I doctored a blister, ate some nuts, added a layer of clothing, and pondered my best course of action. I felt I’d already used all of my good luck, so I headed west toward Tiger 2 and 3 instead of descending the way I’d come.

Maybe if I descended via the Section Line trail (to avoid any crowds coming up West Tiger 3), I could cut east toward the Tiger Mountain Trail (TMT) and bypass the bears. If I rejoined the TMT far enough below where I’d spotted them, I could return to my car without having to walk half a mile along the paved Frontage Road.

The TMT, RR Grade, and West Tiger 2 summit sign, five minutes above/beyond where I spotted the third bear.

My plan was working beautifully. Once I reached a sign pointing to “TMT, West Tiger RR Grade, W. Tiger 2 Summit 1.2 miles,” I thought I was golden. But five minutes beyond the sign, something larger than a dog, with black fur, spooked and scurried away from me along the path. Holy smokes, I just had a visual on a quick bear cub. Could I have just spotted three bears in one day?

Three Bears Added Miles and Murat’s Bridge

Since this cub was ahead of and below me, I pivoted 180 degrees and went back up the way I came, wracking my brain to think of another way down. Maybe the unmaintained K3 trail would work. I found the appropriate sign, headed down, and found myself on a long, unfamiliar bridge signed “Murat’s Bridge.” How can I be lost when I know exactly where I am? Or thought I did? What now?

The 200-foot long Murat's Bridge crosses a ravine to connect the TMT to High Point Trail. — The 200-foot-long Murat’s Bridge crosses a ravine to connect the TMT to High Point Trail.

I continued across the ravine, hoping to solve the unfamiliar bridge mystery. Fortunately, a trail runner and his dog trotted by. He assured me the TMT would join with the High Point Trail at a junction just beyond the ravine. On the other side was a small mailbox, a photo with a Saint Bernard, and some flags.

Missing my dog, I wondered briefly if the bridge was some sort of pet memorial. What a cool idea. But the sign said (1980-2013 RIP) so Murat must have been a person. By digging into online resources later I discovered that the family who donated engineering costs for the bridge had a son, Murat Danishek, who endured a multi-decade battle with a congenital heart defect. His own Shorecrest High School senior project novella was titled “Escape from Khasden,” published posthumously.

Add Three Bears, Subtract Ajax, What Remains?

My 11-plus-mile journey and 4000 feet of elevation gain with three bear encounters felt epic in ways I never would have imagined when I left the car. In a way, I’m glad Ajax couldn’t come because I’m not sure what he would have done with three bears so close to the trail.

Yet each time I crossed running water, I thought about pausing so he could drink. The only times I stopped all morning were to repair my feet and stow my poles. He would have loved the shade and cooler weather compared to our summer solstice hike. And he always loves meeting other dogs (I saw three).

From the long journey with added miles and elevation, the adrenaline rush of the bear encounters, and very few breaks, it’s no wonder I felt elated, lucky, but also emotionally tired when I reached the car. My senses had been on overdrive, interpreting every snap, crackle, and pop as a potential threat. I don’t think I’ll return to the High Point Trail without a partner or my dog, just to be on the safe side.

Ajax enjoyed a long drink near Ruth's Cove on June 21. How would he have reacted to three bears? — Ajax enjoys a long drink near Ruth’s Cove on June 21. How would he have reacted to three bears?

Bear Takeaways from Three Bears Encounters

If you’re going to hike alone where you may encounter bears, call out to inform them where you are. Carry a whistle in case you need to bring attention to yourself. Bring bear spray only if you know full well how to use it. According to rangers, the inanimate sounds of bear bells pique bears’ curiosity, while loud human voices drive them away. Use trekking poles overhead to make you look bigger. And never, ever run or they’ll see you as prey. These three bears didn’t want to interact with me; they just wanted to eat in peace.

Ajax Takeaways

More than ever, I want my best canine buddy to return to full health so we can hike together. Our hike to McClellan Butte (see my blog post from May 31) proved to me that I can confidently explore new-to-me trails. This trip taught me that I am completely self-sufficient in the mountains, with or without partners. I’ve identified several 13-16 mile trips I’d like to do this fall that most of my current hiking partners are not interested in doing. When I return from Iceland, I trust myself to be able to do them alone. A huge win on my change journey.

ADDENDUM:

A reader brought this sign to my attention with this comment: “Black bears are very shy. In the Sierra, it is illegal to use bear spray on them. But they are very pesky; ordinary noise-making is just not enough anymore. One ranger at Charlotte Lake put up a handwritten sign saying that you should chase them yelling as if you were intending to kill them and eat them. They will run away in terror. Their advice is to keep chasing them as long as you can. I have sent you a photo of the sign.”

Thanks, Ellen!