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Seeing Shannon Meshke blast down the slope, I marveled at the fact this was just her second time on a snowboard.

Shannon, a 16-year-old skateboard enthusiast from Puyallup, embraced the opportunity to jump into the snow last winter. “I love it. There’s so much around here to do; I want to get out and do more stuff like this.”

That’s exactly what a lot of folks want to hear. Several nonprofit wilderness advocacy groups, as well as outdoor industry associations, have launched initiatives to get more young people interested and involved in outdoor recreation.

Shannon focused on snowboarding as her snow sport of choice for a couple of reasons. First, as a skateboarder, she was already comfortable on a single board. Snowboarding also has more a youthful edge — many of her friends were riders.

To get started, she enrolled in a half-day lesson at the Crystal Mountain Snow Sports School. Instructor Curtis Yanasak took a half-dozen would-be snowboarders, aged 16 to 40, under his wing and within just a few minutes had them standing and skating on their boards. Within the first half-hour, they were carefully maneuvering down a short hillside and soon were heading up the lifts for some careful descents on the beginner slopes.

“The basics of snowboarding can be learned quickly,” Yanasak said. “It doesn’t take long before you can safely and easily get down the hill. From that point, it’s a simple matter of practice — working on technique and building skills to get better and be able to tackle more challenging terrain.”

Shannon proved this point rather quickly. After her inaugural lesson, and some tentative free riding later that day, she joined my partner, Donna Meshke (Shannon’s aunt), and me for a full day of snow play. Shannon confidently opted to head straight for the upper runs at Crystal as soon as we arrived. Playing it a little safe, we skipped Rainier Express and instead headed up Forest Queen lift, so we could warm up on moderate blue runs. I underestimated the enthusiasm of a teenager.

Fast learner

After exiting the lift, I skied a few hundred yards down the slope to set up for pictures, only to find Shannon flying down the slope past me. I had to turn and tuck to catch her and then speed downslope to get far enough ahead to get a handful of pictures as she raced by in a blur.

Back at the base of Forest Queen, Shannon was all smiles. “This is great!” she gushed. “I definitely want to keep doing this!”

A few more fast runs on the moderate slopes and we headed for the summit. The Rainier Express lift brought out a bit of Shannon’s novice status as she nervously surveyed the steep slopes under the lift. But she was entranced by the views of Rainier from the ridge summit at the top of the lift, and her confidence returned as she started carving down the steep blue Little Shot run.

“Wow, that was fun, but tiring,” she said.

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Snowboarding and Skiing at Crystal Mtn with Shannon and Donna. New gear field testing

Another upper-mountain run followed lunch, but the long descent started to zap the neophyte boarder’s energy. We spent a few more hours on the mellow runs accessed by Forest Queen before calling it a day. Shannon, though tired, was happy and eager for a repeat.

Shannon said she has no desire to try skiing. Snowboarding, she said, just “fits” her better. That’s understandable, said Crystal Mountain instructor Yanasak.

Yanasak and his boss, Sean Bold — director of Crystal’s Snow Sports School — agree that learning to ski generally has a little longer learning curve than does learning to snowboard.

“Skiing requires a bit more effort and skills development to acquire that initial level of comfort and security,” Bold said. Still, with good instruction, new skiers can be out carving up the slopes their first day, too.

A new skier

Case in point: Seattle outdoor blogger (rockclimbergirl.com) and accomplished climbing enthusiast Sara Lingafelter took her first ski lesson last winter. “A lot of my friends and colleagues ski, but it’s just something I had never done,” Lingafelter said. “It always just terrified me. I’m a scaredy cat. In mountaineering, I have a fairly controlled safety system so I feel more secure. Skiing just seemed uncontrolled.”

But Lingafelter said she embraced alpine skiing, with the ultimate goal of being comfortable expanding into backcountry skiing so she can take her enjoyment of wilderness exploration into the winter months.

“I loved my first experience skiing,” she said. “I am eager to get back out for more lessons.”

The two young women chose different paths for their outdoor experiences, but their goal was the same: to experience and enjoy the varied outdoor opportunities of the Washington Cascades.

With that in mind, Shannon enjoyed her first backpacking experience this past summer, and plans to jump into snowshoeing this month.

Lingafelter said she, too, plans to take up snowshoeing so she can explore the backcountry this winter while developing her skiing skills.

“I want to start doing more seasonally appropriate activities while enjoying our Northwest environments. I love being out there, doing anything, as long as I can enjoy our wonderful mountains.”

One story stands out in my memory. I don’t remember the exact words—they don’t matter—but the story sticks with me:

Long before European settlers touched foot in the Pacific Northwest, back during the earliest days of human on in these lands, the animals helped create the world as it exists today. Coyote was one of the most prominent and wisest of the animals.

One day, during his travels, Coyote heard whispers that the new people of his land were being killed by a great monster in the Columbia River. This monster hid in a deep pool at Wishram (above the present-day sight of The Dalles), where the waters ran swiftly through rock-lined channels. The monster would lurk in its pool and pull down the two-legged people as the paddled their canoes through narrow channels. The people were afraid of the monster and soon began to avoid the river, though this meant they could not catch the salmon that fed their children. More people died as they went hungry because of their fear.

The Coyote had been waiting for these two, two-legged people to come into his land. When he heard the stories of the monster, he was angry and wanted to do something to help the people, but did not know how to defeat a monster that lived in a deep pool in the river. So Coyote went to the mountains and asked his friend, the Raven, how to help the people. Together, Coyote and Raven came up with a plan.

Coyote would gather up a bundle of dry wood, with some pitch-wood  mixed in, so he could make a fire. He put five sharp bone knives into his bundle. Coyote then headed down to the river to meet the monster.

Coyote stood on the bank of the deep pole where the monster lived and taunted the beast. At first, the monster wouldn’t eat Coyote because it knew Coyote was a trickster and it was afraid. But Coyote continued to taunt and laugh at the monster, mock it until the beast rose up in anger and swallowed Coyote.

Once inside the monster, Coyote lit his fire and found many people huddle there. All were cold, wet and near death. Coyote threw more wood on his fire to warm the people, and then used the first knife to carve meat from the monster’s heart. This he roasted and fed to the people, making them strong once more.

As the people ate, Coyote used his knife to cut at the cords that held the monster’s heart in place. Soon, Coyote’s knife broke. But Raven had known that the monster’s sinew would be tough and had made Coyote carry five knives. Coyote retrieved his second knife and continued cutting the cords. When it, too, broke, he took up his third, and then his fourth, knife.

Finally with this fifth knife, Coyote had the cords nearly cut through, and the heart ready drop out, killing the monster. Suddenly, the monster coughed and all the people, and coyote were flung onto the river bank.

Coyote gave names to the people he had saved and send them in all directions to occupy the lands. To the north of the river, he sent the Yakamas and the Klickitats, to the south, he sent the Clackamas and Clatsops. The Nez Perce and  Cayuse went east, preferring to live among the hills and raise ponies.  They also thanked Coyote for his help, praising his intelligence and cleverness in defeating the monster.

Once all the people had been sent to their new homes, Coyote looked the monster in the eye, and said, “You must not eat the people anymore. If you do not swear to let the people use the river and catch the Salmon that feeds them, I will jump into your throat and cut your heart loose.”

The monster promised to let the people pass, but feared that he would die without anything to eat, so Coyote send to him: “You may shake the canoes in the rapid water and eat any of the people who lack the skill to paddle through them. In this way, the people know there is danger, and only those who are careless will feed you.”

The monster agreed and that is why some people still disappear in the rapids at Wishram. So goes the story, though today the rapids are now deep under the reservoir behind the Bonneville Dam. But the monster remains, eating foolish boaters throughout the rivers of the west.

The nature of the wily coyote

I first heard this story from a professor, or maybe it was just a graduate student, in one of my Native American history courses at Washington State University. Later, I heard the same basic story—told in different words and with slightly different context, but with the same general premise—while attending a Native American Pow-Wow at the Puyallup Tribal Grounds near Tacoma. Since then, I’ve seen the story in print in several forms, all slightly different, but each sharing the same basic tenets.

What makes it memorable for me is the fact that Coyote uses his quick-wit and intelligence to help the people of the world. The local tribes revere him for this. Today, though, coyote is reviled for his intelligence and ability to adapt to new situations. The coyote of the 20th century has been stamped as a vile, cowardly beast, and as such, it has been hunted mercilessly for the last hundred years and more throughout the west.

But which is the true nature of the Coyote? Neither, I think.

I believe that the coyote is a species that has never been fully understood by humans, largely because it is malleable and changeable. The coyote will do what is required to adept to any situation it faces. It will change its diet, change its hunting style, and even change its mating practices. The coyote’s most consistence feature is its able to change and adapt.

The trickster. The Wise One. The Monster-fighter. Moon-dog. Ghost dogs. Little Wolf. Sheep-eater. Vermin. Canis lantrans (Latin for ‘barking dog’). The coyote has been label all these and more by the people who know the animal best.

I prefer the Native American labels—the first three being my favorites and, I believe, the most appropriate. Coyotes have been part of the native mythology and oral legends since people first moved onto the continent. Coyotes are native to North America and, though they do seem closely resemble species in other parts of the world—most notably the golden jackal of Africa—they are native only to the western United States and far southern parts of western Canada. Therefore, the American Indians tribes of the American West are the people who best know the crafty canine.

Coyotes—pronounced Ki-Yo-Tees by some, Ki-Oats by others (particularly folks living in rural parts of the west)—are perhaps the most adaptable, versatile predator in North America. They have learned to out-smart hunters and trappers, to avoid poisoned bait, and to take advantage of any opportunity to expand their territory. Coyotes still reside in all their native range—but have also moved into the rainforests of Western Washington. They have spread north to Alaska and south to Panama. They live in the Appalachian and Adirondack Mountains. And, most impressive, they have found good hunting in the urban wildernesses of out major cities. Coyotes roam the streets of Los Angeles, and by the late 1990s coyotes caused a stir in downtown Manhattan—apparently they moved in to hunt the local population of stray dogs, cats and rats (the small, four-legged variety, not the two-legged types in business suits which are more common in that megalopolis).

In Washington state, coyotes are native to the drylands and deserts of the Columbia Basin, and the pine forests and sage brush hills of the Umatilla, Colville,  Okanogan and Wenatchee National Forests. They were less common, though not unknown, in the wet forests of western Washington. Today, however, the Washington Department of Fish and Wildlife (WDFW) categorizes every square inch of Washington state at ‘core habitat’ for coyotes. That is, while other predator species declined in population , or outright disappeared, this small canine pushed its range, expanding out into areas previously dominated by wolves, cougars and bears. The coyote now thrives in every county, and in many cities, of Washington, as well as coast to coast, in every state except Hawaii.

Trickster indeed.

After years of long battle, Miner’s Ridge is now officially part of the Glacier Peak Wilderness Area. The ridge was the scenic of bitter fighting in the late 1960s, when then-owner Kennecott Copper Corporation proposed ripping open the ridge top and dredging up scarce copper in its core. That open-pit mine proposal was opposed by many locals and the growing environmental community of Washington. Wilderness advocated, led by no less than U.S. Supreme Court Justice William O. Douglas, launched a protest hike up the Suiattle Trail in 1966 to bring attention to the mine plans.

Shortly after that, as public opposition to the mine grew, copper prices tanked and Kennecott conceded defeat in the face of costly legal battles and low resource values.

The land remained in the mine company’s hands, though, until the late 1980s when Chelan County PUD bought it from the mine company, with an eye toward using it as a planning tool. The PUD routinely flew helicopters to the ridge – which is surrounded by designated wilderness – to measure snow packs and estimate summer water flow rates into Lake Chelan. When the US Forest Service called a halt to those flights into wilderness, the PUD was stuck with a parcel that had now commercial or agency value — but a great deal of wilderness value. So began the long, slow process of exchanging that wilderness in-holding for another piece of USFS property that has more fiscal value and less recreational value.

That exchange recently took place – the PUD received a small parcel near other PUD property and an agreement that permits limited helicopter access into a remote snow-pack monitoring site nearby  – and the Forest Service quickly completed the paperwork to roll the ridge into the wilderness designation.

A bitter, hard-fought battle followed by a slow concession of practicalities yielded the long-sought objective of Washington’s favorite son, William O. Douglas: Miner’s Ridge will never be mined. Rather it will be enjoyed in its pristine condition by generations to come as part of one of Washington’s wildest Wilderness Areas.

Fishers, a small predatory mammal, rarely eats fish. These close cousins of martens and weasels are mostly nocturnal hunters of any small critters, including birds and occasionally fish, that live in the forest. Fishers are about the size of large housecats and are natives to the Olympics and Western Cascades. Fishers were valued for their thick, soft pelts so much that  over trapping in the mid to  late 1800s and rampant habitat loss through the first half of the 20th century led to their extinction in Washington.

Fishers were listed as a state-endangered species in 1998 by the state Fish and Wildlife Commission and were designated as a candidate for federal listing in 2004 by the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service under the Endangered Species Act.

One of the new Olympic National Park colonists. Photo by ONP.

As part of a recovery plan developed in the early 2000s, about 45 fishers will be released starting next week in the third and final year of reintroduction of the species to the North Olympic Peninsula. The released fishers were captured in northern British Columbia. The capture and release program is part of in intensive recovery plan involving multiple agencies and public parties. The coalition of parties includes:

• BC Ministry of Environment
• British Columbia Trappers Association
• Conservation Northwest
• Doris Duke Foundation
• Lower Elwha Klallam Tribe
• U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service
• U.S. Forest Service
• Washington Department of Natural Resources
• Washington’s National Park Fund
• Wildlife Conservation Society

The first release of fishers occured two years ago, in December 2007, and the second took place last December.  During each release event, the individual animals are each fitted with a small radio transmitter so biologists may track and monitor their movements.  Of the  49 fishers released in the last two years, only 22 are still monitored.  Only 15 of the missing fishes are confirmed dead. Others have somehow ditched their transmitters and other radios may have simply stopped working.

Despite the loss of monitoring opportunites for more than half the fishers, there are signs of hope for a population recovery. Biologists did find three birthing dens last summer with several kits in them.  The goal of the three-year reintroduction program is to create a sustainable population of  100 or more fishers.