Backpacker Magazine – June 2000

Washington's Juniper Dunes: Not So High, But Dry

In a region known for soggy times, Juniper Dunes is a warm sandbox where you can dry out.

by: Andrew Engelson

Tags:
• Washington
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• Adventures
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• Weekends
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• Oregon
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It's spring in the Northwest, you're trapped under overcast skies, and the trails in the Cascades are still thick with snow. But there's an escape hatch if you're longing to bail out of the soup: the desert oasis of the Juniper Dunes Wilderness in Washington.

Occupying 7,100 acres, Juniper Dunes is a vest-pocket wilderness where the sublime is in the details. Don't expect sapphirelike glacial tarns, high peaks, or old-growth rainforest. Instead, you'll find groves of western juniper, a camel of a tree that can survive on 8 inches of rain a year. This area supports the world's greatest concentration of this species found this far north.

And you'll find sand. Hiking through the gate (the entire wilderness is fenced), you'll feel as though you've been set free in an oversize sandbox. There are no established trails, so you'll get to test your map and compass skills. If you get turned around, no worries; you'll eventually hit a fence line.

Juniper Dunes can be brutally hot in summer, with temperatures topping the century mark, so visit in spring or fall. Regardless of the season, don't expect to find water. Pack in all you'll need; you'll be rewarded for the effort. The wilderness preserves a fascinating and rare ecosystem. Much of eastern Washington looked like this before the advent of irrigation, which turned wildlands into an agricultural breadbasket. Grasses, sagebrush, and wildflowers thrive in the dry conditions.

About 4 miles into the heart of the wilderness, we found a high dune and set up camp in the shade of a crooked juniper. Mule deer ambled by and snacked on grass. Western kingbirds fluttered in the juniper branches, squabbling over berrylike cones, pungent with the odor of gin. Looking out on the parade of dunes, you can imagine how this land looked 200 years ago, when Lewis and Clark cruised down the Snake River not far from here.

Eventually, I remembered that we, too, had to head back to the soggy lands west of the Cascades. Before hiking back to the car, I realized we'd packed in too much water. I lightened my load by pouring my imported rainwater on a juniper. For a weekend in the sun, it's a fair trade.

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