Snoqualmie Pass

Exploring Washington’s back areas and historical sites was big on my list when we lived there. After Cece was in Seattle and Dan was in Montana, Becca was my exploro-companion. This memory centers around the time we “discovered” the old Milwaukee Road railroad bridges, high on Snoqualmie Pass.

With Kate in school, some weekends wore long and on this memorable one in May 1997, Becca, and Puppy, of course, came along with me to explore the realm of the old Milwaukee. We drove to Hyak and then over the pass to the Denny Creek off-ramp, towards the Lake Annette trailhead. Earlier, Kate and I had walked up from the parking lot for about a mile and had stumbled upon the old roadbed. It was a 75 foot wide graded path in the middle of the forest. I was obsessed with finding at least one of the four immense trestles that the Milwaukee had built in crossing the Cascades. I had been told that if you drove the forest service road from the trailhead, due west, you would come across a road that led to the Hansen Creek Trestle.

Becca and I bounced along the dirt road in our Honda. Thankfully it was smooth and soft, just a bit moist after an overnight shower. Going along for what seemed like forever, in actuality probably only two or three miles, we came to a sharp ninety degree turn to the left. Making this slowly, I yelled out load and I think I scared Becca royally. There, a hundred feet or more above us, framed in a carpet of verdant green fir trees loomed the ghostly black and rust-colored monolith. It was scary! Thoughts of a UFO, found in the forest or some such craziness crossed my mind. It was soooooo out of place! We got out on the spot, right in the middle of the road, and stood gaping at the huge structure, so stark and spindly. It was awe inspiring.

Parking the car in a turnout nearby, we climbed the bank to the left of the trestle. Puppy had a blast, sniffing and climbing and digging at rotting logs…moving so much faster and energetically that she ever did at home. Becca and I walked a ways along the roadbed and discovered a broken knuckle coupler abandoned in the weeds at the margin of the trestle approach. I lugged it with Puppy’s leash to the edge of the trestle and threw it off into the road below. Both of us were too scared to walk out on the seemingly way too narrow gravel roadbed.
After about an hour, walking along and scrounging a couple of railroad spikes as momentos, we climbed down the same path and I heaved the coupler into the trunk of the car. Puppy actually seemed reluctant to leave! Driving back to the freeway, we went to North Bend and had pizza…a sort of payback for Becca putting up with her rust-crazed dad.

Many times since I have hiked and explored the “Road” and the yard is filled with rusty artifacts to keep the coupler company. To me, however, that first time seeing Hansen Creek Trestle with Becca will be the most poignant and memorable. For years, we had plans that when puppy passed, we would bury her there beside the trestle. It never happened but perhaps her spirit does romp there in the twilight of a summer night. I like to think so.

9-13-2010