Suddenly I

The campsite on the "island" at Bearpaw Mountain Lake. PHOTO BY JOHN McKNIGHT

Helping to take the tent down the next morning. PHOTO BY JOHN McKNIGHT

had the window I’d not expected and my daughter and I were going on a hike. At four she had to get over the “and mommy too?” bump, but once she understood it was just her and I out in the woods overnight she took hold of the idea with unbridled enthusiasm. Saturday morning was filled with periodic “are we going hiking yet(‘s)?” as I got our gear together. And after a frantic waving session to mommy we pulled away a little past noon. Giggling she exclaimed, “Daddy, is this fun or what!”
She quickly fell asleep and napped for the first hour of the drive to the trailhead. We were going to Bearpaw Mountain Lake so timing was everything. There’s one primo campsite on a little “island” that sticks out into the lake and that was where we wanted to be. We hit the empty parking area ecstatic to have the place to ourselves, knowing that someone could still come in later and pass us on the trail.
Slinging her little backpack over her shoulders she watched in some amazement as I horsed mine up and on. She was carrying her blanket, some snacks, and her water. Not heavy but it had enough heft to it to feel like work. Across the road was the brushy trail heading up into the woods. Teaching her how to push her way through the undergrowth I promised it would be easier once we got farther up the trail. It was slow going but the focus on the brush helped in the long run. She got a little momentum and when we hit clear stretches of trail she motored right along.
Overall the trail isn’t well maintained with all the brush and numerous logs to cross over, and I didn’t remember it being quite so steep.  I had backup plans if we ended up turning around but she was determined to get to our campsite so the idea never came up. She even managed to carry her backpack about three-quarters of the way in.
We made steady progress with little grousing and I think the only rest she took lasted about 10 seconds. I couldn’t tell how far it was walking with her, but it felt like about 1 1/2 miles.
The last bit is a gradual and pretty little drop into the lake. We even saw snow and that got her excited all over again. But the best part was the big “Wahoo!” she let out at the edge of the lake when she realized we were finally there. We rounded the lake to a tippy rock bridge out to the island campsite. I had to carry her, her backpack and my fully loaded pack over all together. Quite the sight I’m sure. Then we broke out the snacks, water and juice and set up camp.
Fish were jumping everywhere but she wanted to play in the snow patch first at the end of the lake. So I carried her back across the bridge and we went exploring. We walked up one snow patch, crossed a creek, and learned about snow bridges on the other side. Or at least I did, she thought it was pretty funny she could walk across where I fell through. But I had the last laugh as she face planted in the first snow patch on the way back to camp. (After I made sure she was OK of course.)
We built a fire, we fished, we ate dinner and we talked. Then goofed around in the tent for a bit before she gave me permission to go back out and sit by the fire. I sat up too late enjoying the stars and waiting for the moon to finally show its face. It never did, and the next face I saw was grinning from ear to ear as it told me to, “Wake up daddy!” somewhere near the crack of dawn.
After breakfast we fished some more and played around on our little island. She helped break down camp and started on the tent by trying to pull out the stakes. I watched a bit before getting out the camera to take a picture, then took over the stake pulling. I showed her how to unhook the poles and she demolished the tent in a matter of seconds. We packed everything up and decided to hit the trail.
She couldn’t wait to get to the “hard part”. Which I learned was the first really brushy part at the trailhead. That would come but for the moment I was focused on controlling any tumbling down the steep sections of the “easy part”. We cruised right along without too much stumbling and stopped to drink a little water once. Then it was off to the races. I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t a seemingly tireless drive to get to the end of the trail, especially on the way in.
Finally reaching her hard part, the hottest nastiest buggiest part of the hike, I relaxed and enjoyed the game she made of getting through it. Warning me to stay away from the big “stickeries” that looked like the ones on the trees – Devil’s Club with Maple treelike leaves – she pushed on excited by the challenge. Then before she knew it she was walking across the road to our car. Arms bent at the elbows she pumped her little fists out in front of her and exclaimed, “Wahoo!” one more time.

GETTING THERE
To get to Bearpaw Mountain Lake trailhead, head east on Mount Baker Highway. After the town of Glacier, take a left on Canyon Creek Road, then a right on Forest Service Road 3170. You must have a day or annual pass to park at the trailhead.

John McKnight has been exploring Whatcom and Skagit counties for over 25 years. He can be e-mailed at john@foothillsgazette.com.

Conditions

After weeks of colder weather and late season snowfall, a lot of snow remains in the high country. While snow melt is starting, officials advise visitors and hikers to be aware of conditions. For information, stop in at the Glacier Public Service Center or contact the Mt. Baker Ranger District at (360) 856-5700. Updated conditions are posted online www.fs.fed.us/r6/mbs/.

I’ve had joint ownership in our 12 foot aluminum fishing boat for over two years now.  All and all it’s been a good investment.  We used to tip over canoes or crowd into a 3 man rubber raft that had hardly enough room for 1 man and his gear.  Until about a week ago my wife had never been in it.  There’s something about bad luck for a seagoing vessel when a woman’s aboard.  And although the Sea Monkey had never actually been to sea, every trip is a voyage and no fisherman can afford bad luck.  Twice tempting fate I took her and my 4 year old daughter fishing.
The plan was simple.  I’d troll to a good spot to bobber fish and have a couple trout boated before we got there.  That was assuming that we’d get past the launch bravely and not get scared once on the lake.  Silver Lake is often breezy so we were happy to find calm waters and a nearly warm afternoon.  And after pushing our way through the weeds by the launch I was delighted to find everyone all smiles and happy to be underway.
Putting my plan into action I quickly got a rooster tail out behind the boat and slowly motored along.  Less than 5 minutes later my daughter declared that I needed to catch a fish.  This was repeated every minute or so until she decided that she needed to be fishing.  Apparently my efforts weren’t adequate so she was ready to take over.  She also wanted to go faster which is impossible with an electric trolling motor (relatively speaking).  I think she even suggested she drive the boat, under her breath of course.
Meanwhile my wife sat in the bow quietly enjoying the exchange.  I neglected to get her a license, can’t have too much competition, so was just along for the scenery and the ride.  To her credit she tried to offer snacks and juice to help keep the peace.  But it was hard on our little girl with her new genuine Shakespeare Tinker Bell rod sitting in a rod holder inches away doing nothing.  Especially when it appeared that dad and his rod were doing much the same.
Eventually we got to a prime bobber fishing spot and I loaded up her hook with Power Bait and cast it out about 20 feet.  She was all excited now, giggling and talking and ready to catch a fish.  Did I say excited?  Yes, and that explains why bobber fishing isn’t the perfect way to take a 4 year old fishing for the first time no matter how perfect the spot.  She had to reel it in over and over again which sort of defeats the purpose of bobber fishing.  But it was all about fun and she was having fun.  Somewhere in the middle of all this fun I noticed that the really cool colored Power Bait we picked out was the floating kind, also not optimal for bobber fishing.
I cast a variety of lures off the other side of the boat most of the time all this was going on, and was a little frustrated by the lack of action.  Remember the plan?  Daddy goes fishing and almost always catches fish.  And if I caught one I could at least let her hold my rod and get the feel of having a fish on before we headed back to shore.  I was dwelling on my bad luck and blaming the fates when our daughter declared it was time to go home.  At least she didn’t have to go potty.
We started back at trolling speed and I reeled off about 60 feet of line figuring to get at least one fish on the way in.  My wife took the bobber off Tinker Bell’s line and I crimped on a couple of medium sized split shot.  I needed a little extra weight to get the floating bait under the surface at the speed we were moving.  Grinding my teeth at the thought of getting skunked in front of the women, I looked down and noticed the Tinker reel was still spooling out line.  It didn’t get cocked properly and her line must have nearly spooled (that’s fishing for “run out”).  I think we got it stopped just in time and reeled it back in about halfway so our girl would at least feel like she was fishing.
One of us should.  And when that Tinker Bell rod started jerking around in the rod holder one of us did.  My wife helped her reel it in but it was our daughter’s fish all the way.   It was her first, an 11 inch Rainbow, and a moment none of us will ever forget.  “Honey, can daddy hold your rod for a minute so he knows what it feels like to have a fish on?”  She’s only the latest to out fish me this year, a 4 year old with a Tinker Bell rod.
John McKnight has been exploring Whatcom and Skagit counties for over 25 years. He can be e-mailed at john@foothillsgazette.com.

John McKnight has been exploring Whatcom and Skagit counties for over 25 years. He can be e-mailed at john@foothillsgazette.com.

Susan Morgan, of Kendall, works part-time at the Maple Falls Library (WCLS) and is a free-lance copy editor. She has worked on wilderness, wildlands, and public lands conservation for over 40 years. She is a member of the American Alps Legacy Project working committee, is on the board of Wilderness Watch, and is a fellow with The Rewilding Institute.

There are plenty of good fishing lakes in the area but I always seem to find myself on Silver Lake. Maybe it’s the Ospreys and Eagles, maybe it’s the scenery, maybe it’s a sentimental thing and I miss all the tackle I’ve left on the bottom. Whatever the reason I found myself trolling around in circles again just two weeks after the first trip. I guess that’s a good thing, especially given the weather, hot and sunny right from the get go.
Luckily Wormboy and his dad were out of town this weekend (see previous column), so I called a friend that never had any luck at Silver Lake. I consistently out-fished him, usually skunked him, so I figured to have a glorious day of rubbing it in. We launched late in the morning with a fair breeze to our stern and warm sunshine on our shoulders.
I was extra confident having picked up my favorite secret weapon on the way out that morning. Never let me down and always attracted lots of action. But hard to find as apparently it’s not so much of a secret. With my line out about 50 feet we had our first strike. Well I had nothing to do with it, and noting with dismay that the luck was at the front of the boat I throttled up the motor. Not right away, I first asked politely if I could stay at speed and keep my line out. I was told this would be OK, and was sorry when a slip of my hand caused a sudden surge in speed right when the fish was at the boat. Shame really, nice big fat rainbow too.
Besides, this was my lucky lake and I had to be ready for my first fish. Then my partner hauled in another, smaller but a keeper. Then another…and after several hours had 4 to my none, would have had his limit if I’d slowed down for that first one, so I apologized again over my shoulder. By now I’d given up on my secret weapon and was back to a standard Wedding Ring. Still it was a phenomenal day and I knew it was just a matter of time.
And I was right, I finally hooked a fish and reeled him in real slow so it’d seem a lot bigger. I boated the nice fatty and had the biggest fish in the boat. The bow crew seemed unimpressed pointing out again he’d have is limit to my one if I’d had better control of the boat.  I ignored him and got my line out fast, it was time to get even.
We were trolling the deep side of the lake, not that deep describes any portion of Silver Lake. And right in a spot I always seem to have some luck.  Then wham, I hooked something big. It took all of two seconds to figure out I was somehow hung up on the bottom. Weeds sometimes pull up but with the wind blowing us hard the wrong way, I found no give in my attempts to unhook at all. Must have hooked a log and before I knew what was happening I’d spooled my line and lost everything except my pride.
I had more line in my creel so re-spooled my reel and got back in the game before too long. We made a couple more luckless circuits then fished our way quietly back to the dock. We both had several strikes on that last stretch but no more fish.  As we landed at the launch I was grumbling about being out-fished two trips in a row, and worse, losing my gear both times. Then while we strapped the boat to the trailer I heard it yet again, “I’d have caught my limit if you’d have slowed down the boat.” I guess I did lose more than my tackle that day.

John McKnight has been exploring Whatcom and Skagit counties for over 25 years. He can be e-mailed at john@foothillsgazette.com.