During our quadruple-year drought, hiking Chatter Creek was easier, albeit extremely steep. Multiple creek crossings were low or completely dry.

After heavy winter snow, Spring runoff was huge. In late May I hiked Chatter Creek trail with Karen and Gro. Later I took Rich on that hike. He called it "climbing Mt. Everest."

Creek crossings got harder as we gained elevation. When we got to the biggest creek crossing, I froze. Chatter Creek was huge, fast and crashing over waterfalls, wet, slippery boulders, logs and sharp rocks. To cross, I needed to climb a giant flat-faced boulder, negotiate slippery rocks and logs, and walk across a sharply tilted, nearly vertical tree trunk that fell across the creek, jammed against the boulder.

“No way,” I thought and dropped downhill, scouting for an easier crossing. I managed to cross a waterfall to a island in the creek, but there was no way to get to the other side.

Discouraged, I returned to the original crossing. Karen and Gro were magically on the far side of Chatter Creek. Karen nimbly scrambled back, asking, “Are you afraid?” Terrified.

“Hand me your pack and hiking pole,” Karen said. I collapsed the pole, strapping it to my pack. Karen scrambled halfway across, tossing my day pack to Gro. “Wow, your pack is heavy!” Gro exclaimed, staggering after catching it. “What's in there, the kitchen sink?”

“Kathleen, we are going to use rock climbing skills,” Karen explained. “Always keep limbs anchored; move a single hand or foot at a time. I will go slowly. Follow me and put your hands and feet exactly where I put mine.”

“Put your left foot here. Now boost yourself and grab this edge with your right hand. Brace yourself with your left foot and right hand.” Together we scrambled the boulder wall like spiders. Negotiated slippery rocks and logs. Next was the sharply tilted log. Walking the log was impossible.

“Now straddle the log like riding a horse, letting your legs dangle down the side,” Karen said. “Use your hands to scoot yourself forward.” We edged around protruding branches. At the end of the log, I was high above the ground. Tricky getting down.

During the descent, that scary creek crossing was much easier. I had mentally rehearsed and knew I could do it. As a small woman, it is often easier to sit down and slide off boulders, landing downhill on my feet. On the far side, Karen reached out and helped Gro and me jump across the water to the slippery, steep bank.

Descending, Karen and I both fell in the same extremely steep spot. Suddenly my front foot shot out from under me and I did the splits. Sliding downhill, my left shin and knee dragged painfully across sharp rocks and dirt.

“Are you all right?” Karen asked. “It’s just a scratch,” I replied merrily, my pat answer to minor hiking injuries.

A fortnight later, those deep bruises and bloody scrapes were still healing. But I felt triumphant. Hiking builds self-confidence when we face challenges and surmount them.

Photos:

An easier creek crossing. Mountains around us. Craggy cliffs in the high meadow.

Tweedy's Lewisia grows just in North Central Washington at specific elevations and exposures. My favorite wildflower.