During the Independence Day weekend of 2003, Karen and I went for a three-day backpack trip to the lower slopes of Mt. Adams, a 12,300 foot high volcano in Washington state. Mt. Adams is not nearly as well-known as Mt. Rainier, perhaps because it is nearly 2,000 feet shorter and is located far away from Seattle. It has, however, about twice the bulk of Rainier and possesses a magnificent presence in itself. One of the advantages of hiking here, for wilderness lovers, is that there are relatively few hikers compared to trails nearer Seattle and Portland.

Our hike led us on a series of trails, several still covered with snow, including the Stagman Ridge Trail and portions of the Highline and Pacific Crest Trails. We camped two nights at Looking Glass Lake, which is actually a pond that beautifully reflects Mt. Adams when the wind isn't blowing (we presume, but don't really know, since the wind constantly rippled the surface during our stay).

The following photographs and observations reflect our sensory experiences on this wonderful early summer trip.

Slime molds are amazing creatures, neither plant nor animal, that can actually move, albeit slowly, in search of food. This specimen is a single giant cell with numerous nucleii, and it appeared to be getting nutrition from a cache of pocket gopher dung. The streaming mass of protoplasm reminds me of the movie "The Blob," which terrified me as a child. In the film, a mass about this size, which had arrived from outer space, jumped onto a man's hand and eventually absorbed his whole body. Fortunately, slime molds haven't yet learned this trick (as far as I know!).

On the meadow fringes we observed a flock of Pine Siskins, a small bird related to the American Goldfinch that winters in the lowlands of Puget Sound where we live, feeding daily at our bird feeders. The highlight of Horseshoe Meadows was seeing a ghostly Prairie Falcon ripping through the scattered patches of forest in search of prey.

Other birds observed on our hike included a Hairy Woodpecker pair carrying food and entering a nest hole; a Turkey Vulture silhouetted against the icy peak; Gray Jays coming to investigate our camp; awakening to two different calls of a Clark's Nutcracker; and finding a Dark-eyed Junco nest with five eggs in a wet meadow (we saw the adult fly up from the nest).

Since snow completely covered some of the trails we wanted to hike, making route finding difficult, we decided to hike out a day early and spend the fourth and final day of our trip exploring some of the region around Mt. Adams.

As we approached the trailhead, we encountered a Blue Grouse. The grouse walked from one side of the trail to the other, several times doing an odd circle dance, then it disappeared into a thicket, where it continuously made loud clucking noises. When we stepped closer, it flew about 30' up to a side branch of a conifer. Then it flew to another tree, then another, then still another--all the while loudly clucking. We thought it might have a nest in the area and walked around to investigate. When I very nearly stepped on a fuzzy tennis ball of a grouse chick, we understood the grouse's distress. We scurried away, not wishing to further disturb the mother grouse and her young.

When we reached the trailhead, we decided to camp there. That evening we watched as Common Nighthawks engaged in aerial combat over the canyon below.

The next day we explored the lava beds and huckleberry meadows surrounding Mt. Adams.

Watermelon snow, despite its colorful name, is actually mildly toxic to humans, causing intestinal distress--one more reason to filter water while backpacking in the mountains.

In 1932, the Sawtooth Huckleberry Fields were partitioned to allow exclusive use of one side of the road by Indians. This agreement was known as "The Handshake Agreement," and it still stands. In fact, the U.S. Forest Service maintains a campground there exclusively for use by Indians.