Okay, to summit Number Six. Friday, April 28.
I'm driving north through Oregon with a few hours to kill before picking up an ancient wooden rocking chair for a guy in Olympia. He restores them, and I've got a little delivery gig going to help support my travel habit. My excuse is that one vehicle making one trip is better than two vehicles making two, thereby sequestering a couple of additional carbon molecules in my gas tank. Admittedly, a meager benefit. The main benefit, the main attraction, of course, is the fun stuff I get to do along the way.
In this case, it's what's often referred to as the best local hike near Eugene: Spencer Butte. I'm there before 8:00 am, but there are a dozen cars in the lot already. As I lace up my boots, a few sunrise hikers are returning to their cars.
I gander at the trail map to orient myself, and read the warning about rattlesnakes. They're becoming more common here, it says. I'm surprised. On the lusher, greener side of Washington state, we're accustomed to venom-free, fang-free hiking and bushwhacking anywhere we choose to go. A few thorns and stinging nettle is about it, plus the once-every-three-years-or-so brush with a grumpy flock of ground-nesting yellow jackets.
Even higher up in the North Cascades there is little to fear other than getting cold, wet and lost. The bears almost always run away when they see you (rarely they don't, which at least adds a good story to your fireside repertoire). Mountain lions can be a minor worry, but encounters are so rare, my only real precaution is to not go trail running alone early or late in the day. But I almost never run or jog on the trail anyway. I plod. And I'd love to see a lion out there sometime, preferably midday with friends. I've only seen them from the road. A thrill nonetheless.
So up the trail I go. I decide to slog up the steep way and come down the gentle to complete the loop. The path is like a staircase and doesn't dilly dally, though the elevation gain is under 800 feet. The woods are nice and I see no snakes.
In no time, I can see there's open, rocky ground above and a final light scramble leads me to the summit. The sun is bright to the east, splashing that entire flank of Spencer in golden-blue light. This was too easy, I'm thinking. But plenty scenic.
After five other summits of comparable difficulty, I need to get myself to a real hike with a few thousand feet of elevation gain. It's still early season, which means putting on the gaiters and trudging up some snow. The thought of that on a day like today brings some possible objectives to mind. Hmmm, where shall I go next?
My gaze drifts back to the scene in front of me, the proud hills embracing a friendly city, and the Three Sisters volcanoes boldly marking the sunny horizon not so far away.
I chug a little water, stroll around the summit of Spencer and snap a few photos. It's certainly as beauteous as the other five I've completed so far, so we'll definitely count it. Rested, I grab my pack and head down the easy trail to continue my errands.
