Detailed version: On Monday, May 11th, I decided to go on a trail run in Ahtanum State Forest, since most WA state parks opened back up the previous week. Jeff endorsed the outing and manned the home front while I wandered. Before I left, I looked up Whites Ridge Trail online to make sure that it was actually open. It was, so I packed a sandwich, an extra pair of socks, and some water, and drove the 75 minutes to the trailhead. I listened to piano music on the way there, and felt that familiar heady soaring sensation of freedom with every lovely note. Then I started passing actual trees and my anticipation mounted even higher. I asked myself over and over why I hadn't sought natural solitude before now, with all of the relentless home-home-home time we've had lately. Then I remembered that state parks only just barely opened up one week ago, and many of our favorite trails and all of our nearby national parks are still all closed. This outing was an extra-special treat.
Only two other cars were in the parking lot when I arrived. The rest of the roads leading deeper into the recreation area were all barricaded off, so Whites Ridge Trail was it. I only saw one other person on the entire ten mile trail, so my solitude was nigh perfection.
Last year, our family hiked out 2.5 miles clockwise on this loop trail, so this time I did the loop counter-clockwise. Normally I don't choose to do loops when I run on trails alone because I tend to get so caught up in the forest euphoria that I forget to take note of directions. In other words, I get lost easily in the woods. Thankfully, the trail was well-marked, without many distracting beguiling forks to tempt me astray, so I didn't have trouble with directions. I was a bit apprehensive of actually doing the full ten mile loop, since I didn't want to carry water. And the website said it was actually 10.9 miles, which is nearly 4 miles farther than I've run all year. I didn't want to kill my legs too badly! But I couldn't resist the siren call of a true loop trail, so mid-run I decided to do the full loop and walk it in if running got too tiring. It was so worth the effort!
It was partly sunny and 60 degrees with a light breeze when I embarked on my journey. Idyllic to the max. I started by running an easy lap around the large parking lot to warm up a little before attacking the steep incline of the trail. Most of the first half of the trail was UP. The trailhead began at about 4,000 feet altitude, and it climbed up from there. So it wasn't just the incline I was gasping against, it was the thinner air! We live at 900 feet above sea level, so I really felt that extra altitude.
It was partly sunny and 60 degrees with a light breeze when I embarked on my journey. Idyllic to the max. I started by running an easy lap around the large parking lot to warm up a little before attacking the steep incline of the trail. Most of the first half of the trail was UP. The trailhead began at about 4,000 feet altitude, and it climbed up from there. So it wasn't just the incline I was gasping against, it was the thinner air! We live at 900 feet above sea level, so I really felt that extra altitude.
The trail wound up through beautiful evergreen meadows and thicker evergreen groves. Every now and then, a vista would open up in the trees and I could see how far up I was, with distant pine-spiked hills rolling away across the horizon. The light breeze was scented with sweet sun-warmed sap. Over and over, I breathed in that delicate fragrance and felt cobwebs clear out of my lungs (and head and heart) with every breath. The wind whispered and sung as it wove through the pine trees. As I listened to its muted music my mind centered and my thoughts cleared. All of my senses were open to the good green world and I felt a deep healing connection. Maybe it's all of the yoga I've been doing, or maybe it was the usual spell that the forest casts on me. Whatever it was, my soul thrummed in tune with mother nature.
Dust settled between my toes. Bugs buzzed around my head. Sweat beaded on my brow. I breathed in and out. Sunny-sweet sap, gentle musical wind, sweeping sudden vistas. Every now and then I stopped to take pictures of the glory around me. More often, I snapped pictures mid-stride. I let my mind wander and float. It was a classic "Shaina-vision-quest" run. The back side of the ridge was wilder, and I ran through a couple of snow drifts and climbed over several fallen trees. After about seven miles of traversing up and down rugged terrain, my legs started feeling very tired. It got harder to lift my feet high enough to avoid treacherous rocks, roots, and pine cones. I stumbled a lot, especially since it was mostly downhill by then and I was battling gravity along with the obstacles. I stopped taking as many pictures and just focused on staying upright in forward motion.
When my watch beeped at mile ten, I thought I might walk it in. But the trail was looking familiar and I could hear the creek faintly, so I thought I'd run a little longer. A short while later, the parking lot popped into view! The website was wrong! The loop was barely ten miles. I was relieved. I made it back without falling! My legs were definitely wobbly after running for over two hours. Back at the car, I chugged a bunch of water, then took my lunch down to the deep fast-flowing creek. I washed my dusty feet and legs in the icy water and ate my PBJ to the gushing rushing whoosh of the water. Then I hiked back up to the car and drove homeward.
Dust settled between my toes. Bugs buzzed around my head. Sweat beaded on my brow. I breathed in and out. Sunny-sweet sap, gentle musical wind, sweeping sudden vistas. Every now and then I stopped to take pictures of the glory around me. More often, I snapped pictures mid-stride. I let my mind wander and float. It was a classic "Shaina-vision-quest" run. The back side of the ridge was wilder, and I ran through a couple of snow drifts and climbed over several fallen trees. After about seven miles of traversing up and down rugged terrain, my legs started feeling very tired. It got harder to lift my feet high enough to avoid treacherous rocks, roots, and pine cones. I stumbled a lot, especially since it was mostly downhill by then and I was battling gravity along with the obstacles. I stopped taking as many pictures and just focused on staying upright in forward motion.
When my watch beeped at mile ten, I thought I might walk it in. But the trail was looking familiar and I could hear the creek faintly, so I thought I'd run a little longer. A short while later, the parking lot popped into view! The website was wrong! The loop was barely ten miles. I was relieved. I made it back without falling! My legs were definitely wobbly after running for over two hours. Back at the car, I chugged a bunch of water, then took my lunch down to the deep fast-flowing creek. I washed my dusty feet and legs in the icy water and ate my PBJ to the gushing rushing whoosh of the water. Then I hiked back up to the car and drove homeward.
Total round-trip elapsed time: six hours.
I believe that these guys are subalpine firs, the third type of evergreen that grows in Ahtanum. When I looked them up to check, it was difficult to differentiate.
Those pinecones and that downhill were a tough combo for my tired quadriceps.
I know, I know, more pine trees. But they're pretty pine trees!
A glorious sky-hugging view. I was glad to stop to admire this view after running uphill for an entire mile and a half.
A convenient fallen tree assisted with this picture.
I was a bit early for wildflowers, but a few of these beauties were blooming.
A brief view through the trees.
Not all of my self-timer photography is successful, haha.
The trail had several of these big fallen giants with tons of skeletal bleached branches sticking out. I thought they looked like dinosaur spines.
Ponderosa pines--I love their orange trunks! Just like last time I visited Ahtanum State Forest, I could hardly believe that this place is barely over an hour from our house in the heart of treeless farmland. Washington is a state of vast ecological variety.
Douglas firs. It was fascinating to run through groves of different types of evergreen--a pleasant tour of a small corner of the Evergreen State.
Tree stump view.
These handy trail markers gave me much peace of mind.
Running through snow in shorts will always feel silly.
Victory!
Hiking down the steep hill to the creek.
ICE. My toes could not handle the frigid water for more than a few seconds at a time. I wanted to soak my sore quads in the water, but my toes would not allow me to submerge that far.
The view downstream from my perch on the creek bank.
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