I had some trouble finding the road to the north trail head at first because my maps were a bit outdated. Anyway, now I know the Umtanum road to the trail head is the one to the left hand up immediately after the paved road ends. The rumored stone step at the creek turned out to be less trouble than the primitive road itself. I convinced my Chevy Cavaliar to the cross the creek but the loose rocks piled up at the center of the road kept grinding into the undercarriage of my car. So half mile up from the creek I gave up and started to hike. On our way up we were passed by two SUV's driven by their happy owners. Knowing we would have time to make an end-to-end hike along the Untanum ridge, we went up to the small hill with the microwave tower and later explored a bit along the ridge. There were still flowers going on everywhere. The snow capped Mt. Stuart could be seen in the distance. The shadows of the clouds form strange patterns on the ground below that looked like burn-marks. We didn't see any animals except a few birds of unknown species. Overall, it was a good trip. The view was definite different from the usual alpine scene this side of the Cascades. It is so open that you see everything every step of your hike.

Continuing my little tour east of the mountains, I decided to dayhike the Yakima Rim Skyline from the south trailhead to see what all the fuss was about. Rumor has it that the north trailhead is very difficult to access this time of year, so my squat little sedan insisted on the south entry. The driving directions in 55 Hikes are accurate, though navigating the last couple of miles is a little peculiar. A short distance before entering the state wildlife area (not marked, but you'll know it by driving through an opening in a large fence), the road forks into two parallel lanes with a ""no trespassing"" sign. The sign appears to apply only to the right-hand lane. As mentioned in 55 hikes, the road eventually drops into a little draw to the trailhead. The trail is easily visible to the left, but the signs to mark it are now mostly decaying on the ground. A shotgun-abused wildlife department sign is another clue that you're where you need to be. The trail climbs and climbs some more through wide open country. The views down to the Yakima River on the canyon bottom get progressively better on the ascent. The trail is perfectly visible throughout, albeit rocky. Tall, wooden trail markers appear at intervals, but are unnecessary unless one leaves the trail for some reason and needs a landmark for the return. Several grouse-like birds were flushed out of the sagebrush by my heavy footsteps on the way up. Tops on the wildlife scale, however, was the appearance of a golden eagle on the canyon rim, not more than 30 feet from where I stood. More stoic and asocial than the bald eagle, it didn't allow me to gawk at it for more than a second, as it majestically and gracefully took to the wind, soaring across to the opposite side of the canyon. A rare sight, to be sure. Elk sign was evident, as well, though it looked to have been a few weeks since the animals had moved through. I hiked past Twin Springs (which, unlike Spring & Manning, I would probably be willing to drink out of provided I had a good filter with me, despite the frog eggs)until I reached a full view of the Roza Valley. The eastern portion of the Roza, with trucks of I-82 gleaming in the distance, has been fairly modified by agriculture. The larger western portion, at least from a distance, seemed much more primitive and mysterious. Worth checking out at a later date. My return on the trail was marked by shifting light and wind patterns, with excellent views of the broad, lower Yakima valley and the stark, dry ridges that extend forever eastward from the Cascades. All very sublime, until I returned to discover the dead battery in my car. With no one around and the sun dropping, I pushed and heaved for nearly an hour, trying to get the car to a slope so that it might roll, allowing me to pop the clutch. Finally, at the blazing speed of 2 miles per hour, drifting backward, I threw it into reverse, let the clutch fly out, and managed to get the dang thing to start. This unexpected scenario gave new meaning to the old adage, ""You gotta' pay to play.""

The trail is in good shape for the first couple of miles, after which erosion, overgrowth and beaver civil engineering began to hinder our progress. Soon we were bushwhacking through the thick brush of the canyon floor or scrambling over rock slides more than we were following any sort of trail, and decided to climb up out of the canyon about 3/4 of a mile before reaching Durr road, intending to gain the Yakima Ridge trail. The canyon side, though steep and covered with sagebrush and other dry, thorny vegetation, made for easier progress than the jungle-like growth that exists along Umtanum creek, and we were soon rewarded with views of Manastash Ridge, Kittitas Valley, and the Stuart Range. High clouds prevented vistas from being as spectacular as they could have been, though. We passed what's left of Barnes' cabin on the way -- little more than a few sun-bleached planks and rusty nails remain. Following a network of animal paths and old roads, we reached the ridge soon thereafter, near the radio towers. The Yakima Ridge trail is a 4WD road that follows the top of the ridge and offers great views in all directions. After a couple of miles from the point where we connected with it, the ridge and trail turn to the south-east, away from the Umtanum trailhead, so we headed down one of the ravines leading back to the canyon. Steeper than the ascent, this part inflicted the most pain on our knees and feet, and route finding was a bit trickier. We hooked up with the side trail that leads out from the Umtanum trailhead, and were soon gratefully stretching our legs at the car. Remarkable wildlife viewing: bighorn sheep (along the canyon cliffs), deer, rattlesnake (hiding in the rocks on the canyon shoulder), coyote, horned lizards (along the ridge top), a swarm of dragonflies, many butterflies, and all sorts of birds including hawks, grouse, magpie and heron (!). Beavers were not to be seen but their handiwork certainly was; we passed dozens of dams in various stages of construction or decay. Mosquitoes and red ants were in ample supply as well. The wildflowers appeared to be past their peak but there were still many blooming. Good campsites occur every 1/2 mile to mile or so along the trail. We hiked about a mile in on Saturday evening to the first good campsite, left camp around 7:30am Sunday morning, and were back at the trailhead by 4:00pm that afternoon. We saw two other backpackers pass our campsite Sunday morning, and didn't meet another soul until reaching the popular side trail up the canyon side near the trailhead. All in all, a very worthwhile trip.

Summary: The road to the North trailhead is virtually impassable (read below) at the creek without a 4x4. Starting from the North trailhead, this trail is a thinly disguised road with sharp rocks and deep ruts. There is no reprieve from the sun, wind, or rain for as far as the eye can see. The views are boundless, and you feel like you're a million miles away from everywhere including the mountains and other distinguishing landscapes. This isolation can be a good thing in the wilderness, but the views are relatively unremarkable accordingly. To those inclined to the miniature, there were intermittent signs of beautiful wildflowers. Marked by rattlesnakes, rough roads, gun shells, and sparse vegitation, but very little dust in spite of the breeze turning to strong winds at times, this destination is precisely what the doctor ordered in that it had absolutely no snow nor sign that snow would ever consider residing here. The unlimited openness of Eastern Washington is exhilarating in contrast to the confining denseness on most west side approaches. Being an uneventful ridge, you are on the summit, more-or-less, the whole time, so views don't improve appreciably no matter how far you hike but the walk itself is easy. Despite the fact that I could have driven to each point I had hiked (but... read below), the experience was as pleasant and refreshing as any I have had elsewhere. The road to the North trail head crosses a creek, which although low and unthreatening, prevented our further advance on four wheels with a low undercarriage. The trouble involved negotiating the rocky step that drops the road into the creek bed. My car and two others chose to park and walk the three miles up to the trail head. Enroute and on foot, we were passed by an Acura Integra whose driver sported a wide grin. Having proved the step was not impassable to the most impractical of vehicles, the driver later indicated in conversation a certain displeasure with his decision--especially regarding the uncertainty of success necessary on the return trip. At the presumed trailhead, roads shoot off in four directions. The information we came with indicated the main trail headed East, but that direction looked like it descended and was constantly moving away from the potential views to the West. We decided to head West up to the microwave towers and beyond because this route seemed to have the best chance of reaching a high point from which we might appreciate Mt. Rainier and not just Columbia Crest. Short of climbing a tower, the mountain's bulk remained obscured behind the Cayuse Pass peaks. In hindsight, I should have studied more and gone to the South trailhead to avoid the North's troublesome road. Reports indicate it is more popular as well. This area is a great alternative if you are looking for something completely different, but I wouldn't wish it on my dog again.

Teased by a glimpse of sunshine and the return of birdsong here in Seattle, I took off over the hills to see what more I could find in the desert. The flowers are just getting started and most green things are only shoots in the ground, but the birds are practicing heartily. Indeed, they almost drown out the sound of near-by semi-automatic weaponry. The non-motorized designation at the Rosa Creek Trailhead appears to be a recommendation only. The two signs reading ""no unauthorized vehicles beyond this point,"" straddle a ten-foot swath of tire tracks and command about as much respect as a bullet-ridden ""no shooting"" sign. While I encountered neither hiker or motor, there were plenty of signs of each as I made my way down to Birdsong (Bullet) Spring. Aptly named. Twitter Tweet Bang Bang. Two or three more weeks and the hills will be a spring-filled madness.

We started from the road out of Selah that leads to a dirt road beginning at the horse trailer parking area. There is an unlocked gate that one can drive through (close the gate to ""keep the elk in"" the wildlife refuge). Driving two miles on the rough dirt road (passable for cars with high clearance when dry), we came to the high point in the road, a shoulder on the ridge, before the road starts heading down again. Parking there, we headed up the trail in the stream draw which passes near the parking area. It was in the 60's and clear--just right. It's an easy hike to the ridge, where great views of the Yakima River canyon can be had, right above the Roza Dam. There are also great views of Rainier, Adams, and other mountains. The area was quite dry, with some wildflowers, and lots of butterflies (insects were the only ""wildlife"" we saw). To the high point on the ridge and back to the parking area is a roundtrip of about 7 miles and 1300 feet of elevation gain. Be sure and take plenty of water, as there is none up there. All in all, a very pleasant spring hike on the dry east side to begin your conditioning for the high country trails to come.