McClellan Butte — Monday, Oct. 21, 2013

Snoqualmie Region > Snoqualmie Pass

This was a rare, autumn day...a once in a season happening. After days of cold nights, rain, storms, the weather cleared for a couple of days, and the sun came out, and no clouds were in sight. A thick mist rose up that bathed Western Washington in gray skies, but just past Highway 18/Tiger Mountain, the mist dissipated, and the farther I drove up, the more I rose above it. I'm a trail runner, love single track running, and back in my 20s, first found McClellan Butte as a hiking and free hand climbing/rappelling location. It was on the way back down that I ran the single track trail, and remembered have a hoot of a time doing it. Now, at 54, I'm seriously into it. The trail to McClellan Butte is newer, different than what I remembered. I used to take the trail partway, then go cross-country, uphill, using vine maples as walkways through thickets, and young trees as hand holds. Now there's a Forest Service parking lot, with an outhouse, and a Discovery Pass is required. The old trail just off the freeway has been obliterated. The trail is easy enough, a series of switchbacks, and soon I came upon the John Wayne Trail (JWT). Saw a few bicyclists on that trail, and we nodded at each other cordially. A ways down the JWT, and I found a sign that said, "To McClellan Butte". Then the trail got steeper, and steeper. Remembering the words of an ultra-marathoner, "Just keep moving forward", I ran until my legs wouldn't worked, walked until they did, then repeated the process. Some four miles or so of trailing, the trail ahead turned into a climb. Imagine running up stairs that were three times taller than the norm. Once upon a time, piece of cake. Now, at 54, same thing. Run until my legs wouldn't work, walked until they did. I remembered the path around the crest of the Butte, viewing the Seattle water-supply lake with it's "NO TRESSPASSING" signs, and ran it like an old friend. Finding mud and snow, I pressed forward, switching back and forth, uphill, mentally hearing the words "Are we there yet?" Suddenly, I almost ran into an Italian man on his way down. We greeted each other in a friendly manner, and he was quite fascinated with the 14" Buck commando knife I carry belted around my waist. Sharp as a razor, it is some help if I was attacked by a bear or cougar, but mostly use it to cut through blackberry vines barring my path. A little ways further, I encountered a young couple and their dog, sunbathing on a rock. Others were preparing to head down. I had arrived. I remembered that this was the place where I almost died on several occasions, some years ago. Rappelling, my carabiner came apart, and once I got stuck...couldn't go up, couldn't go down. Eventually I made it down, but it was some serious mental calming that got me through. The pictures I attach are from the top of McClellan's Butte. It is interesting to note that one or two feet in front of me, when I took those pictures, was a 100 foot cliff. You know how when standing at an edge, there's an unseen hand that wants to push you over? It helps to have more than just your feet touching something solid. I stayed and marveled, breathing that clear mountain air, for about 45 minutes, then started back down. Running down the 3x taller stairs, I first felt my left big toenail peel back. Onward. The badge of the crazy runner. Legs were tired, and a couple of times I stumbled, but never fell. At the end of the steep, 3x taller stairs, I felt the right big toenail peel back. A note about that. I spoke with a ballet instructor, and he agreed with my assessment, that taping the toenails would be a good idea. Either that or have them surgically removed. I mean, if they're going to fall out anyway.... Ignoring the pain in my toes, I whooped and hollered back down the trail to my trail-running iPod list, just loving it! Too soon, I was back at the car, and time to go. I count this trail run as one of the highlights of my life. I simply MUST do it again! And soon!