Seen one, you've seen 'em all

    Shirley and I were camped at Organ Pipe Cactus National Monument in Arizona. Our neighbors Stan and Betty from Oregon invited us for cocktail hour. They were new to RVing and said they had not traveled extensively yet except for Alaska. (It’s a couple thousand miles closer from Portland, Oregon than from Oregon, Ohio.) We talked about all the wonderful places to go in Alaska. Stan said they did not bother going to Denali because they can see Mt. Hood in Oregon any time they want to.

Mt. Hood is only about 30 miles from Portland.

So there is no need to go all the way to Alaska just to see this.

But along the way you might want to see Lake Louise.

Or Moraine Lake

Or Peyto Lake

      Stan reminded me of Shirley's father, a flatland farmer who was prone to saying things like "Mountains just get in the way of the view" and "If you've seen one mountain, you've seen 'em all." Which in turn got me to thinking about the mountains we have seen and how her father was not even close to right. It is not just that all mountains do not look alike but, more importantly for us, the memories associated with them make each one distinctive.

   Sometimes “distinctive” does not necessarily mean pleasant. In our backpacking days, we did a stretch of the Appalachian Trail where it passes along the flanks of Mt. Rogers, the highest point in Virginia. There is a spur trail that leads to the summit. I thought that, because we were so close, we should climb Mt. Rogers to enjoy the view from way up there. The spur trail was overgrown in places by blackberry bushes that reached out to snag bare legs with their thorns. Then it started to rain. Hard. And thunder. Lightning too, of course. But the view from the summit was sure to make the effort worthwhile.

  When we arrived, we found the brass US Geographical Survey medallion confirming that we were at the highest point in Virginia. Also a wooden sign proclaiming the same. And that glorious vista! Except there wasn’t any. Even if there had been no thunderstorm, Mt. Rogers is crowned by forest. If your ambition is to look at trees, that’s what you get to look at. The horizon is totally obscured. Shirley cried.  

  Fortunately, she agreed to do it all over again a couple years later. There was no storm. There were smiles. She forgave me at last. Or something pretty close to forgiveness. The experience still rears its ugly head when she thinks I need to be reminded of my unfortunate propensity for that sort of thing.

The second time we climbed Mt. Rogers the view was pretty much 

the same. Her smile was the main difference.

   There was a parallel experience I think of as The Great Mt. Rainier Debacle. Fog and rain obscured the view for three days. Shirley said we should go around to the other side of the mountain where it might be clear. I thought that was a dumb idea. She suggested that my judgment is not entirely trustworthy.Yeah, yeah. You have probably already concluded that it was beautiful on the other side of the mountain just as she said. Why do you people always take her side against me?

Once past Frozen Lake we had the trail all to ourselves.

   This might be another reason you side with her. In Glacier National Park in northwestern Montana we took the spectacular Going-to-the-Sun Road up to Logan Pass where pyramid-shaped Reynolds Mountain dominates the skyline. Little golden glacier lilies eagerly push their way through the snow in the spring--which usually arrives around the middle of July. A short hike can improve your chance of seeing mountain goats, bighorn sheep, deer, marmots, pikas, and other wildlife.

   We decided to walk an hour or so out the Highline Trail to sit on the rocks and eat our lunch with the whole world spread out below us. Some hikers came from the other direction. Were we headed to Granite Park Chalet? It’s wonderful! You gotta go. You can’t stop now, you’re halfway there. So, we finished lunch and continued on for another two hours. We met some more hikers who said Granite Park Chalet is wonderful. You gotta go. You can’t stop now. You’re halfway there! 

Working on his tan and snowboarding skills in late July.

Glacier lilies are a favorite snack of mountain goats.

There is a visitor center at Logan Pass.

But there is nothing work seeing on the drive up there.

The Highline Trail is cut into the side of the mountains.

     I began to question what kind of grades these people got when they were studying fractions. We’re only four hours into this and we are already halfway there. Woohoo! But because we had already invested a lot of time and effort, I insisted it all would be wasted if we gave up at that point.

   “How would you feel,” I asked Shirley, “if we quit now and it turned out to be right around the corner?”

   And this time I was right. Sort of. When we turned the next corner, there it was. Right across the valley silhouetted on a promontory. All we had to do was walk around the end of the valley. Way, way around the end of the valley. But actually being able to see it, even in the distance, was enough incentive to keep us going. Plus the fact that we needed to refill our water bottles at the chalet.

   The scenery from the front porch was breathtaking. But, truthfully, it was exactly the same scenery we had been looking at for a long time. We bought a pitcher of lemonade and a couple peanut butter cookies to enjoy in rocking chairs on the porch before heading back to Logan Pass.

   Along the way, we met a herd of bighorn sheep coming right down the trail toward us. They politely stepped up the cliff face to let us pass. Then, near the trailhead, we met some mountain goats. Other tourists were staring through binoculars at shapes in the distance that might be mountain goats. Maybe bighorn sheep. What's the difference anyway? It was dusk by the time we got back. Fifteen miles. Fifteen mountain miles. Just to have lunch on a rock. Since then, “You can’t stop now, you’re halfway there” has been Shirley’s code language for “What kind of mess are you trying to get us into this time?”

More sensible Glacier Park visitors just enjoy the view from the lodge.

Or just pull over along Going-to-the-Sun Road.

   But even Shirley will admit that not all of our mountain experiences have been disasters. We have been to Maui twice and both times made the effort to see the sunrise from Mt. Haleakala. The road that climbs the mountain from Kahului is only 38 miles but it is so steep and winding that it takes about an hour and a half to drive. So you need to leave early. No later than 3:30 a.m. should about do it. Check the time of sunrise at the summit. The first rays of the sun arrive there quite a bit before it is dawn at sea level. Also, before you leave your nice comfortable bed you need to call the hotline for the cloud cover report. If there are clouds at the summit, you should just say “Thank God!” and go back to sleep. No. That’s not right. You should say, “Oh, I’m so sorry, Dear. Maybe we can do it tomorrow.”

   If you decide to disregard these warning and go anyway, you also need to dig through your luggage for your Ohio winter clothes. You may think of Maui as a tropical paradise but you’ll be climbing from sea level to a little over 10,000 feet. It can be cold enough to snow up there before sunrise. The good news is it warms rather quickly. You should be quite comfortable if you decide to hike down into the caldera of the volcano. There are colorful mineral deposits tossed up by the goddess Pele from the core of the earth and cinder cones created during volcanic eruptions. Halemu’u Trail follows steep switchbacks down the side of a rocky cliff. The Sliding Sands Trail is more gentle and descends very easily. The thing is, though, you should take the name of the trail seriously. Getting back out of the caldera means you take one step up and slide two steps back. This gives Shirley numerous opportunities to say, “You can’t stop now, you’re halfway there.”

There are trails into the caldera. Sliding Sands is a totally accurate name.

Sunrise can be a little nippy at 10,000 feet even in Hawaii.

   The two trails into Haleakala remind me that there are also two trails to the summit of Mt. Washburn in Yellowstone, one of the most popular hiking destinations in the park. The northern access, via the old Crittenden Road, is only a little over two miles through mostly open meadows with wildflowers and panoramic views. The southern access is about three miles but it makes up for the extra distance by being steeper with more switchbacks through rocky outcrops. (Some hikers think going farther to get to the same place is a feature, not a bug.) The key thing is not which trail you take up but which trail you take back down. If you walk up the north trail, get all turned around or forgetful, and walk down the south trail to the wrong side of the mountain, it could be another one of those long, long days.

   Near the summit of Washburn there is often a herd of bighorn sheep feeding in the meadows. They are not at all shy of people and tend to just plop down right in the trail. There are restrooms but no running water so carry more than you think you might need.

At the summit, rangers keep a lookout for wildfires.  

Bighorns can look a little scruffy when shedding their winter woolens.

                       

Their kids develop agility by chasing each other along the mountainside.

Be sure you are on the right trail before you begin the descent.

   In Zion National Park, one of our favorite hikes is the Watchman Trail. It does not actually go up Watchman but to a high, rocky platform from which you can see Watchman. Which you can also see just as well from down in the canyon. 

   A mountain hike we always take early in the day is the Taggart Lake Trail in Grand Teton National Park to beat the rush. Our objective is to get to our “lunch rocks” at the edge of the lake before interlopers arrive. Sure, like the Watchman, you don’t really have to do any hiking to see the Tetons. Like Watchman, you can see them just fine from down in Jackson Hole but seeing them reflected in the lake is much more dramatic. The tallest peaks are Middle Teton, Grand Teton, and Mt. Owen. I’m not sure which is which because all mountains look pretty much alike, you know. Seen one....

   But even the same mountains look different as the seasons change and the light shifts. We have been to the Tetons more than a dozen times but never get bored with the same old same old. They fit perfectly into our travel plans. There are a thousand places we want to go to and another thousand places we want to go back to,

Devil's Tower

Mt. Rushmore, of course.

Half Dome

Flat Top

North Cascades

Scott's Bluff

Capitol Reef

Sawtooth Mountains

Pike's Peak

Lassen Volcanic

Moonrise over Mt. Ajo in Arizona

Guadalupe Mountains

Fall along the Blue Ridge

Morning fog often hangs in the valleys.

Spring means rhododendron, mountain laurel, flame azaleas 

and wildflowers on the Blue Ridge. 

Sometimes it is worth the effort to climb the mountain.

We took the Lost Mine Trail up there. It's still lost.

Sometimes the view, as at Mt Shasta, can be seen from Interstate 5.

Sometimes, as at Trail Ridge Road in Rocky Mountains NP,

there are pullouts from which to admire the view.

After the snow melts in early July, the Old Fall River Road 

is another good option.

No matter where you go in Alaska, the mountains keep blocking the view.

If you climb high enough, you might even see eye-to-eye with an eagle.

         Shirley and I have seen thousands of mountains and climbed quite a few over the years. But our knees suggest that perhaps we should consider less strenuous ways of experiencing them. Fortunately, they say it is still OK to take another little walk in the park.