two days on Washington's Larch Mountain
Posted: May 12th, 2020, 8:51 am
two days on Washington's Larch Mountain
Stuck at home waiting for a delivery, killing time. I know, I'll write a long droning TR. Haven't posted a real TR since March. Here's something semi-current.
Skamania County had just shut down all hiking, including off trail, with threats of incarceration. Sure, I considered sneaking in, but decided to take the same approach I did with the Eagle Creek fire: It will be waiting for me. Be patient. So I opened up Google Maps with the county border displayed, and looked for alternatives.
I imposed a few rules:
Stay close to home.
Drive straight through, no stopping.
Don't park at or near a trailhead.
Don't hike on a trail.
Don't tell anybody. Not at first, anyway. I didn't want to give away my secret spots, nor did I want to be an enticer.
Poring over the map, I saw a high point slightly southwest of Silver Star. Looked promising. Lots of OHV trails though. But it was too snowy to support that crowd, so I figured I could get some solitude. My plan was to drive until I hit snow, and then start walking.
On my drive up the gravel road, I passed an "area closed" sign at a Y junction. The road going the other direction was gated, so I told myself I should still be okay on the main road. I saw more signs, but they seemed unrelated to covid (private property, this trail closed, stuff like that). I drove until my undercarriage was scraping the snow, then backed down and found a safe place to park. I climbed to a high point and surveyed my surroundings as the sun rose. The clouds were clearing fast, and a distant mountain I had assumed to be Adams turned out to be Hood. Looking up in the direction my road would have taken me, I saw open snowy slopes that I assumed to be the OHV playground I had wanted to start at. Looked impossibly far away. Later, from a higher closer vantage, I realized it was Silver Star.
Back down to my car, with intention of walking up the road, but got lucky and spotted signs of an abandoned OHV trail. I checked it out, and confirmed it was hikable. Slightly overgrown and snowy, but a lot more fun than trudging up the road. I managed to link up a series of faint roads and trails, generally managing to avoid the primary roads.
Surveying the terrain and looking at the map, I picked out a ridge with a dramatic rocky outcropping, and in the distance, separated by a saddle, a peak hosting radio towers. That seemed like a good initial goal to get the day started.
The ridge was fun, with a few minor routefinding "opportunities", some unfruitful bushwhacking, and some great scenic rocky spots. There was a snow-covered puddle that I plunged into, so my feet were cold and wet just an hour into the day, but that was coming anyway, so this just put me ahead of schedule. As I started to approach the drop into the saddle, it looked like it might be too steep to downclimb, but when I arrived I realized it was an illusion, I don't think I even needed my hands.
At the saddle, I decided to utilize roads/trails as much as possible on my ascent to the towers. I wasn't sure where they would take me, but I kept going, taking what seemed to be the best branches. The snow was getting pretty deep, but I knew it couldn't be much farther. By the time I saw the towers through the trees, I was postholing miserably, but it was just another 1/4 mile, so I kept at it. At the top, there was a comical barbed-wire fence to keep me away from the installation. It was probably 6' or 8' high without snow, but I stepped over it to get a better look at things. I stayed far away from anything that could pelt me with falling ice (it was coming down fast in the warm noonish sun).
Somewhere on the ascent, I dawned on me this had to be Larch Mountain. I had planned to do more exploring, maybe even as far as Grouse Vista, but the postholing had taken a lot out of me, so I made a quick loop, followed an OHV trail down for a bit, then headed XC back towards the saddle. It was fun at first, but I ended up in a brushy labyrinth, getting pelted with slushbombs, so I veered a bit to get back on my ascent road.
I arrived back at my car at a bad time, just as a DNR cop was driving by. He admonished me for being in the covid-closed area. I told him I had deliberately stayed west of Skamania. He said it doesn't matter what route I took to get in, it's still closed. I didn't see the logic in that, but didn't argue. He told me the entire state is closed: DNR, USFS, parks, etc. I honestly didn't know, had heard only about Skamania.
Having been caught on my first attempted stealth hike, I didn't want to run the risk of another encounter with DNR police (aside: I had never even heard of a WA DNR Police force), so I decided to lay low until it was legal.
Day two was about five weeks later. I realized I must have missed a turnoff when I found myself on a long straight level section of road that reminded me of the drive to Grouse Vista. Sure enough, I later saw an unmistakable junction. Rather than turning back, I continued to Grouse and followed Tarbell trail away from Silver Star. I was disappointed there was no snow, but soon there was a patch, and more, and pretty soon bare ground was scarce. Finding my way to the top of Larch was fun. A plethora of trails, some marked, some hard to find in the snow. I was in no hurry, so explored every possibility. There were some Aha! moments when I would return to a junction from a different direction, gradually building my cognitive map of how this all fit together. Finally at the top, I was surprised to find it bare. Also surprised to encounter a couple hikers, the only pedestrians I saw on both days.
I spotted a road I had previously overlooked when snowy. Followed it down, down, down, into Cold Creek valley I guess, until it dumped into a navigable road near a junction with Tarbell Trail. It was only a little more than 1000' of descent, but that feels like a lot when you're exploring blind. There was a bicyclist there, one of only two I saw both days.
I could have returned on Tarbell Trail, but there were some question marks on my descent road, so I returned that way. Spotted what looked like a trail, and followed it. Not surprisingly, it connected to Tarbell. Apparently a bike trail. It was damn steep. A descent on bike would best be described as a controlled fall. Back on Tarbell, I continued to a talus slope, my turnaround point earlier when I was exploring my way up Larch. I popped over a ridge and found the talus zone was the same one my descent road was carved through. I wasn't shocked at that, but was shocked at how close I came to Tarbell on my descent road.
Back on known terrain, I poked around here and there, back to the top of Larch, down a OHV trail which I thought would take me to my day-one ridge saddle, but I ended up somewhere else, which was fun (semi lost, in a good way), back up Larch on another OHV trail, much snowier than the parallel trail.
The final descent from Larch to Grouse was a combo of XC following snowy patches along Grouse Creek, mixed with closed unmapped OHV trails.
Considering what an easy objective Larch Mountain is, I managed to squeeze quite a bit of adventure out of it, mostly due to snow, but also partly due to the abundance of mystery roads/trails that were fun to explore. There are a few questions left, but I pretty much nook-n-crannied that mountain, so not sure I'll go back. Maybe next winter when snow returns and the bike/OHV crowds thin out. On my two trips, I discovered that deep fresh snow and weekdays do little to deter the shoot-n-pollute folks, even early in the morning. I bet Larch Mountain is miserably loud and crowded on weekends when the snow is gone.
First 5 pics from day one, second set of 5 pics from day two.
Stuck at home waiting for a delivery, killing time. I know, I'll write a long droning TR. Haven't posted a real TR since March. Here's something semi-current.
Skamania County had just shut down all hiking, including off trail, with threats of incarceration. Sure, I considered sneaking in, but decided to take the same approach I did with the Eagle Creek fire: It will be waiting for me. Be patient. So I opened up Google Maps with the county border displayed, and looked for alternatives.
I imposed a few rules:
Stay close to home.
Drive straight through, no stopping.
Don't park at or near a trailhead.
Don't hike on a trail.
Don't tell anybody. Not at first, anyway. I didn't want to give away my secret spots, nor did I want to be an enticer.
Poring over the map, I saw a high point slightly southwest of Silver Star. Looked promising. Lots of OHV trails though. But it was too snowy to support that crowd, so I figured I could get some solitude. My plan was to drive until I hit snow, and then start walking.
On my drive up the gravel road, I passed an "area closed" sign at a Y junction. The road going the other direction was gated, so I told myself I should still be okay on the main road. I saw more signs, but they seemed unrelated to covid (private property, this trail closed, stuff like that). I drove until my undercarriage was scraping the snow, then backed down and found a safe place to park. I climbed to a high point and surveyed my surroundings as the sun rose. The clouds were clearing fast, and a distant mountain I had assumed to be Adams turned out to be Hood. Looking up in the direction my road would have taken me, I saw open snowy slopes that I assumed to be the OHV playground I had wanted to start at. Looked impossibly far away. Later, from a higher closer vantage, I realized it was Silver Star.
Back down to my car, with intention of walking up the road, but got lucky and spotted signs of an abandoned OHV trail. I checked it out, and confirmed it was hikable. Slightly overgrown and snowy, but a lot more fun than trudging up the road. I managed to link up a series of faint roads and trails, generally managing to avoid the primary roads.
Surveying the terrain and looking at the map, I picked out a ridge with a dramatic rocky outcropping, and in the distance, separated by a saddle, a peak hosting radio towers. That seemed like a good initial goal to get the day started.
The ridge was fun, with a few minor routefinding "opportunities", some unfruitful bushwhacking, and some great scenic rocky spots. There was a snow-covered puddle that I plunged into, so my feet were cold and wet just an hour into the day, but that was coming anyway, so this just put me ahead of schedule. As I started to approach the drop into the saddle, it looked like it might be too steep to downclimb, but when I arrived I realized it was an illusion, I don't think I even needed my hands.
At the saddle, I decided to utilize roads/trails as much as possible on my ascent to the towers. I wasn't sure where they would take me, but I kept going, taking what seemed to be the best branches. The snow was getting pretty deep, but I knew it couldn't be much farther. By the time I saw the towers through the trees, I was postholing miserably, but it was just another 1/4 mile, so I kept at it. At the top, there was a comical barbed-wire fence to keep me away from the installation. It was probably 6' or 8' high without snow, but I stepped over it to get a better look at things. I stayed far away from anything that could pelt me with falling ice (it was coming down fast in the warm noonish sun).
Somewhere on the ascent, I dawned on me this had to be Larch Mountain. I had planned to do more exploring, maybe even as far as Grouse Vista, but the postholing had taken a lot out of me, so I made a quick loop, followed an OHV trail down for a bit, then headed XC back towards the saddle. It was fun at first, but I ended up in a brushy labyrinth, getting pelted with slushbombs, so I veered a bit to get back on my ascent road.
I arrived back at my car at a bad time, just as a DNR cop was driving by. He admonished me for being in the covid-closed area. I told him I had deliberately stayed west of Skamania. He said it doesn't matter what route I took to get in, it's still closed. I didn't see the logic in that, but didn't argue. He told me the entire state is closed: DNR, USFS, parks, etc. I honestly didn't know, had heard only about Skamania.
Having been caught on my first attempted stealth hike, I didn't want to run the risk of another encounter with DNR police (aside: I had never even heard of a WA DNR Police force), so I decided to lay low until it was legal.
Day two was about five weeks later. I realized I must have missed a turnoff when I found myself on a long straight level section of road that reminded me of the drive to Grouse Vista. Sure enough, I later saw an unmistakable junction. Rather than turning back, I continued to Grouse and followed Tarbell trail away from Silver Star. I was disappointed there was no snow, but soon there was a patch, and more, and pretty soon bare ground was scarce. Finding my way to the top of Larch was fun. A plethora of trails, some marked, some hard to find in the snow. I was in no hurry, so explored every possibility. There were some Aha! moments when I would return to a junction from a different direction, gradually building my cognitive map of how this all fit together. Finally at the top, I was surprised to find it bare. Also surprised to encounter a couple hikers, the only pedestrians I saw on both days.
I spotted a road I had previously overlooked when snowy. Followed it down, down, down, into Cold Creek valley I guess, until it dumped into a navigable road near a junction with Tarbell Trail. It was only a little more than 1000' of descent, but that feels like a lot when you're exploring blind. There was a bicyclist there, one of only two I saw both days.
I could have returned on Tarbell Trail, but there were some question marks on my descent road, so I returned that way. Spotted what looked like a trail, and followed it. Not surprisingly, it connected to Tarbell. Apparently a bike trail. It was damn steep. A descent on bike would best be described as a controlled fall. Back on Tarbell, I continued to a talus slope, my turnaround point earlier when I was exploring my way up Larch. I popped over a ridge and found the talus zone was the same one my descent road was carved through. I wasn't shocked at that, but was shocked at how close I came to Tarbell on my descent road.
Back on known terrain, I poked around here and there, back to the top of Larch, down a OHV trail which I thought would take me to my day-one ridge saddle, but I ended up somewhere else, which was fun (semi lost, in a good way), back up Larch on another OHV trail, much snowier than the parallel trail.
The final descent from Larch to Grouse was a combo of XC following snowy patches along Grouse Creek, mixed with closed unmapped OHV trails.
Considering what an easy objective Larch Mountain is, I managed to squeeze quite a bit of adventure out of it, mostly due to snow, but also partly due to the abundance of mystery roads/trails that were fun to explore. There are a few questions left, but I pretty much nook-n-crannied that mountain, so not sure I'll go back. Maybe next winter when snow returns and the bike/OHV crowds thin out. On my two trips, I discovered that deep fresh snow and weekdays do little to deter the shoot-n-pollute folks, even early in the morning. I bet Larch Mountain is miserably loud and crowded on weekends when the snow is gone.
First 5 pics from day one, second set of 5 pics from day two.