Snoqualmie

The same day that I got my dive light, I thought I'd go out and have more of an adventure. This time further toward the mountains.
I hopped on I-90 going east until I was prompted by a few signs to make my way to Snoqualmie Falls.
Sounds like a plan...
The last time I went was with Grandpa and Irene.
It was winter time and Grandpa drove up after not driving for many, many months.
When we got there, he informed me I was going to drive back.
The rain wasn't too bad once we got to the falls, but it did keep us from staying too long.
I can't remember how good the view was. Probably a bit foggy.

However, this time the weather was beautiful.
It hadn't been sunny in what seemed like months.
I parked, ran up to the observatory and took a few shots.
Nice flow, not that many people, just some kiddies and japanese foreign exchange students.

Next, I thought, "I want to see the top of the falls."
Over at Niagra, they let you get right up to the cresting point of the falls, where water is misting up back at you at such a volume that you think it has suddenly started to rain until you walk back out of the mist's reach.

So I headed up past the Salish Lodge that sits on the cusp of the falls where the 270-foot drop starts. Maybe I could have snuck in there, but it seemed like too many people were around to enjoy that luxury. Around the back, the lodge was fenced in and a sign stating "Please respect our guests" stared down anyone like me who wanted to get a better view.

Continuing on, I headed more upstream until I found the blocked off electrical areas that posted no tresspassing. I continued further upstream until the signs dissappeared.
Then I cut in toward the river. That's where I found the old columns that may have once supported a bridge.
I went all the way to the river to check out the buildings across the way that I could see from the observation deck.
But when I got to the shore, there were about a half dozen men on the other side seemingly staring at me.
I freaked and bolted.
I got almost all the way back past the electrical area and almost back to the lodge when I saw a clearing through some holly bushes. Being careful not to touch them, I snuck by and noticed a 30-foot sloped area covered in brush that led to a paved road down below along the river.
I trekked down to the pavement only to see that now some of those men had gotten into their trucks and were driving toward the old buildings.
However, if they wanted to do anything about me, they were heading in the wrong direction, because the only bridge around was back upstream.
So I continued.
I got about 100 feet from the edge of the falls at a point where if those men were actually watching me, they wouldn't freak out from fear of my safety, or any foul play with the falls or the equipment surrounding it.
I darted back up to the employee parking lot and nodded at some dude walking past as if I worked there.
Again I passed the lodge and took more shots of the falls.

Now was the time for the real hike.
There were signs that one could follow for the River Trail. I took it with its initial steep half-mile grade. Down around the bend from the falls, but still near the river everything that seemed like the direction I wanted to go was blocked off either by a make-shift fence or yellow caution tape.
There was also an actual chain-linked fence that had signs for no trespassing on PSE land.
If you haven't figured it out by now, I was taking that picture from the wrong side of the fence.

Cautiously I made my way down to the seemingly abandoned building that had large pipes connecting it to another building on top of the cliff.
I explored this area a bit, found a zip-line that crosses the river, and decided to head back.

But then! I see a man in a white cap come around the same way that I had! He looked somewhat official.
I sprinted off toward the woods and took a leap down the slope toward the river and ducked behind a large root. It felt like that scene from Lord of the Rings where the wraiths are following the hobbits in the woods.
I peer around looking for the bobbing white cap. It's nowhere to be seen!
Crap.
I build up some courage and get nearer to the paved road.
Apparently the man had forgot something and went back to his truck.
Now he was heading back down the trail. And as he did, so did I re-find my cushy hiding spot.
This time I was able to follow the bobbing cap and waited many seconds after it was safely past me until I jumped back up onto the road and sprinted to get back on the other side of the fence.
Mr. Whitehat never saw me.

Then I noticed another fence that kept onlookers away from the pipes that connected the two buildings. With my previous history today from both Issaquah and here at the falls, I figured, why not just jump this fence as well? So I did. My better judgement kept me from attempting to scale the barbed wire fence immediately next to the pipes.

From here, I thought my journey was over, and I'd head back to my car.
But then I saw something that I could ford.
This forest of monocots was easily stompable, although in spots it was a bit mushy.
Especially around this cleverly disguised stream.

However, that wasn't the hard part. Once that was traversed came the upward slope.
At first it wasn't bad, and it was actually refreshing not to be squishing in the mud.
Beyond this tree, things got hairy.

Wearing street clothes, I wasn't expecting anything like this. But after a while, all fours were required to gain any ground.
It may not look like it, but this fallen tree was lying at an angle around 60 degrees. Its base was dangling 15 feet over the ground. So I had to climb up smaller branches to get to its mossy top.
But once I stepped on the log, I realized my mistake.
The moss and ferns made the climb way too slippery, especially for my street shoes.
I had to climb up the crevice along the right side of the log using any grip possible to gain any headway.
Once I got to the tree's "base" it was a lot easier to pull myself up.

But that by far was not the hardest part.
Next came the nearly vertical wall that was covered in peat moss that came off in your hands as you grabbed it.
A lot of the rock under the moss was slate-like slabs that slid out from their niche if you pulled hard enough to support your weight.

So the best bet came from grabbing at strong-rooted shrubs that could find a better grip in the rocks.
For the most part this worked well. The worst part was when you had a foothold, were hugging the wall, and couldn't find anywhere else to grab.
Or something to grab was just out of reach.
I sometimes had to find other loose branches to pull down those that were more sturdy.
At one point I tried to hard to reach too far and found a branch that couldn't support me. (Bad call. You always need at least one firm foot- or handhold.
Down I went, sliding vertically for about a foot or two, but the branches I had come from were there, and I immediately had a deathgrip on them. Old footholds were found.
When all upward avenues failed you, you had to look for an ulterior route which meant hopefully shuffling to the right or left.
In another incident, I was doing just this when my foothold which happened to be some of that shitty pete moss resting upon some of that shitty slate gave way.
Luckily, at the time, I was gripping some 2-inch thick branches that resembled a divining rod.
So when my feet gave way and I slammed against the bare rock with my chest and tops of my feet, I had a strong hold with each hand.

From that dangling position, I was able to pull my feet up level with my waist and shuffle over to the left where better footholds lie.
By this time I had been climbing for a while and I felt a little shaky, but it wasn't that bad.
And besides, there was still more cliff left lying ahead of me.

But a few more minutes of weaving around poking branches, I came to my last obstacle: a cluster of roots from an old fallen tree.
In the roots was something white and ceramic.
I couldn't quite figure out what it was, maybe something for grounding electricity. But thankful to have the worst behind me, I took my picture with it.

The last little bit was annoying because of so much of the foliage, but other than that, nothing like what I had previously gone through.

At the top was a fenced-in area where the building with the pipes sat atop the cliff. The cliff comprised the entire bend that kept me from seeing the waterfall from the river, but atop the cliff I got a small peek at it.

Turning around I could see the river to the left and the white-ish area being the parking lot where I snuck behing the fence. I'd come quite a ways.
Just like at Deception Pass, I feel like I got to know the area better than most because of my intimate involvement with it.
Yeah, I spent hours in a relatively small area of the falls, but I feel I now have a better sense of its environment because of the bushwhacking.

I also learned a few other important things from this experience:

1)Always plan ahead and wear the proper attire.
(Hiking shoes and shorts would have done better than jeans and vans.)

2)Don't be stupid and let at least one person know where you're going.
(If I did die/break a leg, I would have been screwed. No one frequents where I was.)

3) Bring water.
(I got quite parched.)

4)You don't always have to continue forward.
(I can't quite get myself to follow this one, even if it is a good idea. I look too forward to the challenge.)

So even though it was a slight bit dangerous and I was a slight bit stupid, I enjoyed every minute of it.
Getting away from the monotony of the city while partaking in some physical activity was exactly what I was looking for.
Hurray for Snoqualmie Falls.