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Loup Loup's officially the North Cascades, and Disautel's in the Okanogans, which is north of the path I took and west of Spokane, which I was arbitrarily using for a divider. I get to be a bit of a smart*ss about mountains; it started when I was in college and somebody from Colorado complained that the Olympics were "cheating" because their base is close to sea level, and was exacerbated by travelling to Montana too often and hearing that Snoqualamie Pass is no big deal (of course, one year we went over White, which is a big deal: not as big as Washington Pass on 2, but only a couple of hundred feet lower than Fourth of July Pass).
Well, and growing up on Yelm Prairie gave me a strong definition of what a Proper Mountain looks like. (About 40 miles of clear air at 350 feet looking 5 degrees north of due west at a 14,411 ft of triple-crowned stratovolcano makes an impression).
Once upon a time, when I was living in Flushing, NY, I passed an elderly woman who commented on how hard it was for her to go up the hill. Hill? Hill? I didn't see anything I'd call a hill, but I guess it's all relative. When I looked I did see the slightest incline.
Some of my OKC relatives lived in Nichols Hills, which had less slope than I've got between the greenhouse and the front door. In Oklahoma, though, that's enough to give you flash floods.
