Bees

Contributed by Roger Drake

I think it was when he was 6 that we went on a hike with the 8th grade class to Klapatche Park, a 5 mile roundtrip with 1800' climb. He got a ride on my back for a couple steep stretches to allow him to maintain the pace, but for the most part he had little problem keeping up. The only glitch came when some kids disturbed a yellowjacket nest, and true to form, Pete was the one stung. As soon as we finished that hike, he and I went on to backpack 2 miles to the Gobbler's Knob lookout, a 1500' climb with a great view of Rainier. In the picture Pete's very nervous about being near more yellowjacket nests under the eaves of the lookout cabin. The numerous bee stings he had as a child may have been the biggest obstacle to his enjoyment of the outdoors. In the morning there was a cloud sea below Gob Knob so he got to see the peaks as islands in the mist for the first time.

I remember both of these trips, the first being actually when I was five. The reason I remember that is because I was out of school meaning I was in kindergarten and we went with the eighth grade class. The kid that threw the rock at the bees' nest was actually in eighth grade when I was in kindergarten because on another time he got sent down to the kindergarten room to learn how to behave. I was hiking with Michael Chandler ahead of my dad when I got stung. Right away, my dad was there to pick me up and try to get me away from the bees, but while he was picking me up, I got stung again. I remember hearing the first Mr. Touse lecture to the eighth graders at the lake about it, but I also remember feeling good that I had made it there.

The trip to Gobbler's Knob, I believe must have actually been when I was six. I remember everything my dad talked about including the bees and the mountain looking like an island at sunrise. The bees' were right outside the door and many of them just swarming around the hive. I did not even want to go outside. But the trip was made worthwhile to look up in the morning and see the sunrise on the mountain and nothing else.

The other bee trip that dad neglected to mention was our trip to North Cascades. I had been stung numerous other times between these trips as this one was probably when I was eight or nine. The first day we went for a long hike, I believe by Thunder River and I counted for an hour or so and killed over 30 flys. The next day, though, as we were hiking through the woods to get to the trail, my dad stepped on a bees' nest in a stump. They got angry and stung me a few times. Finally I got away from them by running. The rest of the hike though, I was paranoid of bees and in the Northwest, that is not a good thing to be because bees constantly swarm around you. I do remember seeing a porcupine, but after awhile, I was so afraid of every bee that buzzed around me that we ended up turning around, which I was happy to do so that I would not get stung. That was a one-time thing, though, and I was never stung again on a hike until I was in my mid-twenties working trail crew at Rocky Mountain. By then, I was not quite as afraid of the pain as I was as a kid, but my dad was right to say that I was cursed when it came to getting stung as a child.