Northwest Peak
I woke up earlier than usual, excited by the big day ahead and the prospect of sleeping in the NW Peak firetower. I snarfed down breakfast and set off a few minutes ahead of Bugs and Moose, but I disappeared into the woods to poop and ended up behind them. We walked together for a little while on the long, gradual 2000-foot forest road climb, sharing with each other about our backgrounds and off-trail lives. They told me about how they met each other, and the small renovation contracting business that they started in Olympia.
I was the only one planning on taking the alternate route that day, and I had a longer day ahead of me than my four friends, so after some time I said my goodbyes and pushed ahead up the road.
The PNT turned off onto a really beautiful little stretch of trail for a couple miles before continuing on forest roads.
I ate lunch while being swarmed by mosquitos right next to a marsh on the side of a forest road (200P). The majority of the rest of my day would be a long roadwalk. I split off onto the alternate route (204P) and filled up a full 4 liters of water (W206A), because I would be up on a ridge with no water sources until I rejoined the primary route the following day.
As I was walking up the logging road, a car pulled up beside me – the first vehicle I’d seen all day besides a logging crew. The driver rolled down his window, looked at me for a second, and said, “…You must be lost.” I couldn’t help but laugh… I couldn’t find the words to tell him that I have never been more precisely where I intended to be. He told me that he had been hunting for morels in a recently-burned section of forest up the road, and that burned sections of forest were the best places to find morels. He showed me his haul, gave me a couple mushrooms to take with me, and advised me to look on the edge of the burn areas where the trees are red.
(I found out later that he ran into Cookie Monster and Morning Star further down the road and told them that he had just met their son.)
Once I made it to the burn area, I put down my pack and started hunting for morels. I took the stranger’s advice and looked for red trees. Between the green trees and the charred black tree trunks, the trees were indeed red where the pine needles had been singed but hadn’t fallen off. I searched in this liminal space for a couple of minutes until I found my first cluster of morels, just humbly poking up from the ashy ground. The second came only a few seconds later. In about 15 minutes, I had gathered more morels than I could reasonably fit in my pack without mushing them! This was just the morale boost I needed – I had about 2000 more feet to climb, and the 8 extra pounds of water on my back was already wearing on me.
My only company on the peak were a hoary marmot and two excitable pikas. I wish I had gotten a picture of them. The fire tower stood alone on the bare rocky peak. It was windy outside and hard to find a flat rock to cook on. I sliced up the morels with my pocketknife and tried to wash them with what little water I had to spare. After about 15 minutes, I had a feast of morel stew and instant mashed potatoes ready to eat. The morel stew was a little gritty, but still tasted savory and delicious.
