Camp Muir

Maple Pass Loop

Since this is hike is within an hour’s drive for most people in the Seattle/Tacoma metro area, thanks to I-90, it is very popular. Because of its over 3000ft in elevation gain over 4 miles, this makes it a great training run for those wanting to scale nearby Mt. Rainier, but don't have the extra time to drive to the mountain. Which explains why, on a weekend, you'll see people of all disciplines here. Trail runners, dayhikers, families, and people in training, lugging 50lb packs up the trail. Get here early, as the large parking lot fills up quickly on weekends.

I heeded that advice, and got there early, but with only a light load, as this will be my first full on exertion with loaded pack. That, and both my pack and boots were new, so no reason to overdo it, right? Also new this year, will be taking along a GPS unit, so that I can track our trips, and submit them with pictures and trail notes to Backpacker.com. Hopefully, as things progress, I’ll be able to add the routes link here.

The trail begins right away, and does not really relent until you reach the viewing area below the pinnacle of Haystack rock, at around 3600 feet. The day was warm, and it felt good to finally get out and stretch legs and lungs. Not too many people on the trail this morning, and I’m relieved to see the sparse crowds, knowing that will soon change. Arriving at the top, I decide this day, I want to see what it looks like from the very top, so I continue on to the scramble route, to take a whack at climbing to the top of Haystack rock. It’s a little steeper than I thought, but it still looked manageable, even with the weight on my back, so I went for it. Trekking poles here are useless, as I needed my hands to help pull me up. Twenty minutes, and several gut checks later, I topped out at the high point of this trail, with breathtaking scenery all around! A true birds eye view of North Bend, and the Snoqualmie river valley! I paused here to eat, and enjoy the scenery for awhile, before heading back down. And, is it down! By the time I got back to the parking lot, my legs and knees were screaming at me. And, they would not relent for days, reminding me incessantly that they were not happy with the first hike of the season. Other than that, it was a great beginning, and the new equipment worked well…Next week, we tackle the Northern Loop, once again.

Haystack Rock

Neighboring peaks on Mt. Si, Snoqualmie River Below

View from the top, over North Bend

Perched on top

Day 1

Day 2

Day 3

Yes, we’d been on this trip before, but this time, we would go with Ed, Greg, and myself, in an attempt to map the trail for Backpacker.com, with our GPS units. Gotta keep up with the latest advancements!
Because of the floods of 2006 and 2007, the Carbon River entrance is no longer viable, as the road to Ipsut Creek Camp is washed out, and though it’s still accessible as a backcountry camp, we didn’t want to add the extra 5 miles it takes to hike in now that the road is gone. So, this time, we start at Sunrise to complete the loop. Nothing wrong with that, as the scenery along the winding road to the high point in the park at Sunrise, elev. 6400ft, is a worthy road trip in itself. Beautiful meadows filled with wildflowers surround the buildings at Sunrise, and the view of the mountain from here is breathtaking, it feels as if you are close to the top here.
Day 1 9.48 miles. 2096ft gain/2938ft loss. We start at noon, and head up to the Sourdough Ridge Trail, which runs East and West along Sourdough Ridge, from Frozen Lake (the Sunrise area’s drinking water), down ridgeline to Sunrise Lake, below, yep, you guessed it, Sunrise Point. Your first viewpoint north from the trail is down into the Huckleberry Creek Basin, sliding off the flanks of McNeely Peak, and the mountains and ridges stretching north into Canada. Seems you can see forever across bunched up peaks, which rise and fall like a disheveled blanket thrown carelessly across a bed. Continue up the trail to Frozen Lake, and a slightly confusing intersection of trails, with signs pointing this way, and that-a-way…If you’re not paying attention, its easy here to make a wrong turn. For our hike, you must continue through the 4 way intersection straight, following the signage to Mystic Lake, and The Wonderland Trail, which the Northern Loop is part of. The area is relatively barren, and if you look closely, you can see large piles of pumice from past eruptions, reminding you that this area was once the scene of violent volcanic eruptions. Follow the trail downhill to your next junction, which leads left towards Skyscraper Pass, follow the sign that says Mystic Lake, which will be our destination this evening. The trail rounds the leading edge of Berkeley Park Basin, another beautiful valley resplendent in thick green foliage that carpets the ground, and aromatic purple explosions of Lupine, which right now is in full bloom. The way the alpine trees grow in sparse bunches here, reminds you of a carefully maintained, and well thought out garden…On to Skyscraper Pass, and the views here make this a great dayhike to contemplate. Beautiful sightlines of the mountain, with its glaciers resting on the mountain flanks, most prominently the Emmons and Winthrop Glacier, which feeds the West fork of the White River, which runs ribbon like down the valley below. We took the time to scramble up Skyscraper Mountain, an easy 15 minute scramble to the top, our high point for this trip at 7000ft. More spectacular vistas await you, so don’t miss this side trip!
From Skyscraper Pass, it’s several long, lazy, switchbacks downhill through gradually increasing forest to Granite Creek, and the Granite Creek Camp. From there, it’s not long, and you find yourself at the Winthrop Creek Crossing, close to the snout of the Winthrop Glacier. Why they call it a creek, I haven’t a clue, for it is as ferocious a tributary as any of the rivers in the park. In fact, it’s waters were churning and heaving, as if full of barely contained rage, the waters splashing over the now meager looking log laid across the river, the sound of thunder coming from boulders being tossed like playthings in the torrent …Made one a little nervous to cross that bridge, as you could feel the vibration underfoot from the bouncing boulders…I felt like Mario in the video game, waiting for a Chomp to hurl itself out of the waters below, to whack me off the bridge! Game Over! Safely across, we then make our way to the devastation left behind by the recent floods that wiped out the White River crossing. Amazing how much material was moved here, the recently scoured hillsides looked as if I was looking up the side of a skyscraper! Follow the rock cairns and ribbon here, to find the best way across this boulder strewn area. Soon, we reach Mystic Lake Camp, and claim our spot. There are 6 or 7 sites here, with easy access to water. If you like to fish, there are fish in the lake, and it’s also a great place to take a dip to remove the trail grime.
Day 2 8.39 miles. 2853ft gain/3165ft loss. The morning is nice and calm and the lake’s waters are like glass, reflecting the image of Mineral Mountain, and the edges of Mt. Rainier on its still surface. I’m thinking that they should have called Mineral Mountain Obstruction Mountain for it does a good job of hiding the view of the Mountain behind its shoulders. As we round the edges of Mystic Lake, we are on the lookout for a large bear, that one of the campers at Mystic said she had been startled by yesterday evening, as she made her way to camp. According to her, she had worked at Glacier National Park for years, and was used to seeing black bears, but she said this one was huge! She said that it scared the…Looking for the right word here…Daylights! Out of her…But, we never saw it; instead we saw the tower like rocks sticking up out of the sides of Old Desolate, the other mountain that sits on the edge of Mystic Lake. If you look back at the right time, you can still see the mine shaft high on the mountain from prospectors long ago…Once through the meadows surrounding the lake, you start to climb, and as you do, don’t forget to look back every once in a while, you’ll be rewarded with snapshot worthy views of the Mountain, as you escape the blocking efforts of Mineral Mountain. Also, you’ll hear the constant rumbling of rock fall off of the Willis Wall, the prominent feature on this side of the mountain…As you glance back, hoping to see the rocks tumbling down, you will be able to see the telltale dust plumes rising into the air, marking the location of the latest run. It’s amazing to think that with all this constant rock falling, that over the last few thousand years, there is a mountain left at all!!
The next worthy views are reached when you get to Moraine Park. I think it’s worth mentioning, that it might have been just as aptly named Marmot Park, as you are sure to see them running around here, or sunning themselves on the ample boulders scattered along the edge of the park. It’s a beautiful walk through this flat meadow, again framed by the indomitable mountain and surrounding peaks. At the far end of the park, it begins downhill in earnest, and your knees will wonder when the punishment will end, as you head down, down, down, to Dick Creek camp. The down isn’t over yet, as you need to make it to the bottom of the Carbon River basin. You’re also travelling next to the Carbon River Glacier, the lowest Glacier in the lower 48 states. Sometimes, it’s easy to forget that you’re next to a glacier, as the entire surface of it is covered in moraine, even with small trees and vegetation growing on it. But, it’s because of this covering that the ice manages to crawl this far down mountain. At its snout, it too, has constant rock fall, a great reminder to stay away from the mouth of the Carbon River…That is, unless you want to get creamed by a falling boulder…Not far from the snout of the glacier, you’ll come to the Carbon River Suspension Bridge, a great bridge that spans the gap of the Carbon, that seems to sit forlornly from bank to bank…Used to be another good day hike from Ipsut Creek campground, until the road washed out…Now, it’s quite a jaunt, even if you come down from Mowich Lake. I can remember on summer weekends, that it would take you almost 20 minutes to cross the bridge, because there were so many people lined up to make the crossing. Now, the opposite bank stands empty, seems lonely almost… Continue straight here, and follow the signage to Windy Gap. The trail continues through old growth forest, following the river for a while, and then…Right after the trail comes to another junction, stay right, to Windy Gap, and then start your switchbacks up and up to Yellowstone Cliffs. Yep, it’s about 2200ft up to the camp at Yellowstone Cliffs, and at times, it seems that it is never going to end. This series of serious switchbacks could aptly be named, “The Demoralizer”, “Breakheart Ridge”, or, if you’re into acronyms, How bout RAO Trial, pronounced “Rawoooo” not unlike the sound heard right before hurling…(Which, naturally, stands for “Really?? Another One???). Finally, you break out of the old growth, into steep fields filled with Bear grass that slopes up at a steep angle, to the base of Yellowstone Cliffs. Jagged and steep, they fill the skyline with their jutting prows; huge monoliths of granite, looking like a row of battleships, making you crane your neck to look up at them. There is yellow lichen on the rocks, giving them their names, as well as larger quantities of orange, which brings into question the apropos naming of said landmark. Alpine firs cling to any footing they can find, reminding one of the lastvestiges of hair sitting at the base of a bald pate. Once again, we are relieved to reach camp, to shed the weight off of our backs. There are only 2 campsites here, and they both are being encroached upon by mounds of snow, we pick the one that has the largest open area, and set up camp. Somewhere, under all the snow, is the toilet, which we never found. It’s here that Greg experiences equipment failure. Seems he and the downed tree he was sitting on, had a little disagreement on proper seat placement...His seat cushion took the full brunt of a protruding snag, which resulted in letting all the air out, in a quick, tired, “phooo”. Well, at least now it makes a good door mat…
Day 3 8.96 miles. 2700ft gain/3090ft loss. Today, our destination is Fire Creek camp, and, after bidding our farewells to Yellowstone camp, we head uphill, across the high banked plains at the base of Yellowstone Cliffs, awash in all the varieties of wildflower here. Some I recognize, like the Bear grass, Tiger Lilies, Indian paintbrush, Lupine, and others, that help round out the colors of the rainbow. There is still snow along the trail in patches, and one of these patches just happens to sit across a stream that I felt the need to set up tripod and camera to record a beautiful little waterfall…I see footprints across the snow bridge, and after testing it myself, I set to positioning tripod and camera, when , “Crack! Sploosh”! The bridge unceremoniously gave way, dumping me into calf deep water. With camera…And tripod…I managed to hang on to the camera, but at the same time, I was trying desperately to get out of the water, not wanting to soak my feet! I’m sure that I looked like a dancing bear in a room full of rattlesnakes. Once the laughter subsided from the creek banks, I was able to get a hand out of my predicament. The rather large hole that now existed, served as a warning for those that would follow…I now walked in soggy boots the rest of the way to camp, clomp, squish, clomp, squish…Beautiful…As we reached Windy Gap, I was able to forget my waterlogged wheels, and concentrate on the views that now surrounded us in 360. I set up on a spot that was not over babbling brook, (yep, still snow here, too), and took in the vast views of Yellowstone Cliffs distant, Crescent mountain, and the snow melt tarn at its base, along with its adjoining brother, Sluiskin Mountains, adorned in spires. Once over Windy Gap, we came to the trail junction, on our left that led to the Natural Bridge, the only arch that I’m aware of that exists in the park. At only .8 miles, it too, is a worthy side trip to make. Once there, the bridge is on the edge of the hill, and it overlooks Lakes James and Ethel below, and in the distance you can also see the White River trailing away. The photo opportunity met, we join up again with the main trail and begin our descent to Lake James. Along the way, we are warned that the mosquitoes and everything else that bites, have descended in full force along the banks of the lake…As we get nearer and nearer to the lake, the reality sets in. The swarms become larger and larger, until we each have our own entourage of little bloodsuckers. I’m determined, though, to snap a quick picture of Lake James before scurrying on, and Greg and Ed decide to tough it out here at the trail junction…”I’ll only take a couple of minutes”, I assure them, and make my way towards the lakeshore…Right into enemy territory…It’s all I can do to take a quick picture while being feasted upon, before beating a hasty retreat, flailing wildly at my tormentors…And, I happen upon a funny sight, Greg and Ed are doing the Mosquito two step…Or is it twenty step? I’m confused…From a distance, you can’t see the little critters hounding them, all you can see is a constant swatting and slapping and dancing going on, like Ricky Bobbie’s fire dance…Only they’re not on fire…Swoosh, swoosh, slap, slap, ouch! Slap! And on it goes, as if they’re keeping time to some new disco craze, called, “If they don’t leave me alone soon, I’ll go insane!” It’s a good time to leave this area, and with our ever increasing personal swarms as company, we head downhill through old growth forest as fast as we could, in an attempt to rid ourselves of the pests. As our footfalls increased, it reminded me as if we were participants in the Forest Olympics, bounding down trail over rocks, trees, and obstacles with all the grace of charging elephants fleeing a raging fire. In our headlong plunge, we passed through aptly named, “Mosquito Flats” another breeding ground for the winged parasites, which only increased the numbers following us, like buzzards circling fresh road kill…Finally, with some relief, we notice as we put Lake James and Mosquito haven behind us, their numbers dwindle to the point that it is bearable once again, and we reach the banks of the newly re-routed White River. During our flight downhill, we kept hearing a constant, “Boom!” “Boom!” that sounded as if there were rock falling, or blasting somewhere…That was almost a mile away then, and you can imagine our amazement to find what the source of the sound was. More rock being forced downriver by the turbulent White. Here also was Van Horn Falls, a pretty waterfall that might be about 30 feet tall or so. We stop to rest for a moment, and notice that the bridge is gone, wiped out by the river changing course. Thankfully, there are downed trees to cross, for listening to the bounding boulders crashing in the river, there’s no way I would want to ford it…You’d get pulverized by the liquid landslide! Safely across, we make our way over the dry riverbed where the river once ran, and head uphill, once again, through old growth. Here, the ravages of the winter storm are also apparent, as there is some serious blow down across the trail…Over, over, under, under…I felt now as if I was participating in a new event, an obstacle course with 50 lb packs on. Kept expecting someone with Sergeant stripes on to start screaming at me, “Faster, faster, is that the best you can do??!!!” Once through the maze of fallen trees, we continue uphill, although not at the same rate of climb as the day before, on the Trail of Trials…Drenched with sweat, we finally reach the turnoff to Fire Creek camp, and are dismayed to realize that it is still another .4 miles downhill to camp…Some deep sighs, and muttering under the seemingly now failed breath ,we take the turn downhill to camp, to find that we are the only ones here, and this camp has not escaped the blow down that seems prevalent on this side of the White River. Thankfully, the criss-crossed trees miss the best campsite, and we plop down, wet and weary in our new camp. The creek is close, and there are good facilities here, amongst the sparse fir. Once camp is set up, and we set back to relax and eat, a deer wanders in close, and sticks with us for about a half hour, before being startled by someone coming into camp at 9:30pm, right at dusk! And, it was someone alone… A woman! I think we were almost as startled as the deer was, to see someone come into camp this late at night…We talked for a few minutes before she went to set up her camp, and found out that she had arrived at Sunrise at 5:00pm, looking for a spot and this camp was the only one that wasn’t full. Of all the sites along the Northern Loop, this one is probably the least used, although I think I would have to rank it above the sites at Lake James, if for no other reason than not being on the menu here…Amazing! I know that after she had left us, we looked at each other a little incredulously, not believing what we were seeing…Gotta give her credit, I don’t know if I would have done such a thing…Turned in, and had a fitful nights sleep…
Day 4 7.91 miles. 2677ft gain/1201ft loss. Last day. Camp packed, and loaded on our backs, we head up to Grand Park, through forest, until we reach a viewpoint that is open, a rocky platform on the trail that allows clear views of the White River valley below, laid out before us, with Mt Rainier, Old Desolate, and the Natural Bridge all visible from this vantage point, our old friends and nemesis from the trail. Does the hardship of the trail make adversaries now familiar faces that become like friends, once the memory of the pain afflicted fades? Hard to say, for I know that now, I look upon the areas covered as familiar, almost to the point of fondness, where once all I could do was mutter curses of destruction under my breath… Further up the trail, we run into Grand Park, and it is resplendent in coats of Lupine and yellow flowers. Spectacular! After all the up, down, up, down that this trail supplies, amidst forest and rock cliff, it is amazing to break through the alpine fir, and find this place, as flat as a table top, huge grasslands laid out before us, the grasses bending to and fro in the wind, looking every bit like something out of a storybook. I expected to see large herds of elk or deer foraging on the ample waves, but except for the occasional hiker, we were alone…There was a trail junction here, and the trail disappeared across the distance of the park, headed for Lake Eleanor. Perhaps, someday, I’ll make this trek across Grand Park, to see what Lake Eleanor looks like. For now, we continue towards Berkeley Park, dropping off the plateau here, through forest again, and finally, as we begin to hear Lodi Creek clearly, the forest gives way to abundant greens that fill the meadows here, tucked between the steep faces of Skyscraper, and the flanks of Mt. Fremont. Once past Berkeley Camp, the trees finally give way to incredible views of the meadows in this park. The lush green carpet covers everything, and gives you the impression of a lovingly tended garden, to be sure! Placement of everything is perfect, from the way the stream cascades over rock, making bends around tree islands and boulders, flowers so abundant that they fill the breeze with their scent. Berkeley Park is truly park like, and if you ever find yourself in Sunrise, you should make the journey to see this place; words fail to adequately describe the area. There are several people here now, taking as many pictures as their camera cards will hold. More uphill out of Berkeley park, and as we crest the top, below Burroughs Mountains, we put on our turn signals, and merge with the heavy traffic that exists here on a warm summer day. The trails are full of day hikers, and if you sit in one place long enough here, you will see the entire world go by. Many different languages are heard here as we head for Sunrise, and I feel a little bit like a salmon swimming upstream, there are that many people! Relieved, we shed our packs at the truck, don sandals, and head for the concessionary, to have our customary, E.O.T. burger…And wash it all down with a soft ice cream cone! Our journey is now, officially, over. And, if we look at the tallies of elevation gain/loss, we see that on this trail, there is over 20,000ft of elevation gain/ loss in 4 days!!! With so many memories, sights, and sounds that this section of the park provides, it’s difficult to say what the best part is. Yellowstone cliffs? Grand Park? The Natural Bridge perhaps? For me, I believe it was the chance to share these incredible sights, sounds, and some hardships that can only be found on the trail, with my two friends, Greg and Ed, who will best understand the faraway look in my eye, when  reminiscing about our time on the Northern Loop.

Made it back to our chariot...

Sunrise Ranger Station

Mt. Rainier, from Paradise

Dave, Greg, and Ed at Skyscraper Pass

White River, Grand Park, as seen from Skyscraper

Greg crosses footbridge at Winthrop Creek Crossing

The spires of Old Desolate

Mystic Lake Reflections..

Mt. Rainier, and the Willis Wall

Forest waterfall

Yellowstone Cliffs

Yellowstone Cliffs flower gardens

The Natural Bridge

Sluiskin Mountains

Greg displays proper apparel for Mosquito country...

Viewpoint of the Mountain, and the White River Valley.

Grand Park meadows

Berkeley Park path.

Lodi Creek flows through Berkeley Park

Lodi Creek

A well deserved burger at the end of the trail...

Day 1

Day 2

Day 1 A journey into a different section of the Alpine Lakes Wilderness this time, to Big Heart Lake. On the map, it looked like an intriguing hike, as it showed it going by 4 different lakes. Since I’ve not travelled here before, thought this would be a good overnight trip, as it was only 7.5 miles in. Unfortunately, Greg was unable to come, so this would be a solo endeavor this time…
Once I got to the trailhead, (it’s a 3 hour drive from Puyallup), it was around 10:40am, and it was starting to heat up. We’ve been under a regular heat wave as of late, and today was no different. The sooner I get on the trail, the better. The beginning of the trail is more like walking up a dry creek bed, until about a 100 yards or so, it becomes more trail like, winding along the West Fork of the Foss River. The trail decides to cross the river, and at this point, the river has obliterated the trail from last year’s floods. Someone has put up rock cairns as trail markers, and I follow them to a log crossing. Once safely across, I continue to follow the cairns…That is, until they mysteriously stop…Where did they go??? I stand on top of downed trees, and boulders, and cannot look ahead to find another…Well, according to the map, the trail does follow the river uphill…Sorta…And, it appears that two other people have come to the same conclusion, and are marching up the river bed, over all the obstacles. I decide to follow, looking for some sign of where the trail is…5 minutes later, and two re-crossings of the river, for it’s a jumbled mess here, I spot some bright pink surveyors ribbon, and can see farther along that it leads along the river. Looking around, I can see that many boot prints have gone this way before, so I start to follow it…Through thick scrub brush, and vine maple, that constantly tear at me, trying to impede my progress…Up over boulders covered in moss, over downed trees, and finally, across a large tree that fell across the river channel, and sits at least 15 feet off the ground. But, I can see the ribbon continuing on the other side, so I forge onward…I continue to fight my way through thick, grasping brush and tree limbs, until finally, I stagger out onto the trail, at the same time two hikers were coming down the trail. I’m not sure whose face showed more relief, mine, or hers. I know why I was relieved, but I wasn’t sure why she looked so relieved. I didn’t figure it was because she shared the same enthusiasm that I did, happy that I was no longer staggering through brush…Once triumphantly back on course, I asked them how they were doing…The woman that was so relieved, said, “Fine now…I could hear you crashing through the brush, but I couldn’t see you, so you scared the S*#@ out of me!” Ahh…Now I understand the look…I’m sure I sounded like a water buffalo trying to shed something stuck in its horns, as I came through the undergrowth..Saying our goodbyes, I continue on, and realize that I’m already tired, and I’m only about a mile into the hike! All that bushwhacking tired me out, but hey, at least I’m back on the trail! Then it hits me…I forgot to fill out a backcountry permit! Great…Just great…Are things going to continue to go south from here on?? I’m determined to try and change my luck. I continue to press on through forest to Trout Lake. At least, I’m now in the shade, but the heat is starting to crank up, and I notice that I’m already wet from sweat. After a mile and a half from the trailhead, I reach Trout Lake. A pretty lake that is pretty shallow, so it’s fairly warm, and as the name implies, it has trout within its banks. This makes it a good lake to reach for families that want to spend the day fishing, or swimming. I notice a few campsites along its banks, and a toilet. One down, three to go. From the far reaches of the lake, the climb begins in earnest…Not only is the way up persistent, but so are the biting black flies. They would harass me all the way to the upper reaches of the trail. Once out of the trees, I can see a huge waterfall cascading down over barren rock, and even though it’s a long ways off, you can tell that it is large. I remember wondering to myself then, if I would come close to it. Here the trail switch backs through a clearing that is filled with scrub brush, and offers no protection from the unrelenting sun. The backpack suddenly feels as if it weighs 500lbs, and I notice that my pace has slowed to a crawl. I keep pulling on the camelback, and before I know it, I’m out of fluids, and continuing to get cooked by the midday sun. Man, I need some water, now, and I don’t feel so good anymore. On the way up, I pass a mother with children, sitting out of the sun as much as possible, and I find out that her husband went ahead to find water. It’s amazing how quickly the heat on this kind of upward push can drain you and your reserves. Finally, I made it to a small stream in the shade towards the top of the grade, one that I’ve dubbed Salvation Creek. I sat down right in the stream, and filled my camelback and quickly downed another Nalgene bottle of fluids. Now, I feel better! What a relief to have that behind me. It was 1800ft of elevation gain, in about a mile and a half, all the while being parboiled by the sun. Soon I reach the top and my musings from earlier have been answered. The huge waterfall that you could see was actually coming out of Copper Lake, and you get right next to it! From here, though, it is not as impressive as it was further down the draw, as you can only really see the upper reaches of it as it cascades over the rock ledge. Copper Lake is large, surrounded on  three sides by steep, barren slopes, interspersed with clingy alpine firs, it’s amazing that they can grow amidst so much jumbled rock. There is still the occasional snow field present here, adding to the rugged beauty. Clear, turquoise blue waters fill the lake, and give it the appearance of deep waters. As the trail follows the banks, you can see down into the waters to the bottom, the water is so clear. Several people are here camping, and fishing. This lake is reached at around 4.4 miles, and I still have 3 to go! Sigh. Rounding the far reaches of this lake, looking back, I can see the tendrils of smoke creeping above tree line. Is that an illegal campfire, or the result of the thunderstorms that had hit this area the day before? I had stopped to ask some of the people here at the lake if that was new, or a campfire, and they too, surmised that it was probably from a lightning strike. Not good, especially seeing as how it stood between me and my way home! I wasn’t too concerned, though, as it seemed they were on top of the small fires that had been started, as a helicopter was making constant runs to Malachite Lake to scoop up water for fire fighting. The whirrs of its blades were constant this day, so I felt that they probably knew about it. Half a mile later, I pass right by Little Heart Lake, determined to reach Big Heart Lake soon, I want the pack off of my back. At this point, I still have almost two miles to go, and it’s more uphill.  I do stop to take a quick picture, and wouldn’t you know it! The camera tells me to replace the battery pack. What! It showed a full charge before I left the house, and now this?! Just one more thing that’s not gone my way. Where’s the love? I’m disappointed, as I have not even reached my destination yet! I guess now is as good a time as ever to learn how to take photo’s with the camcorder…The terrain begins to change as I continue upward, and the trees thin out. What views! On one clear ridge line, through the haze of the local fires, I can see Mt. Baker in the distance, and clear down to Trout Lake, far below me. Amazing views! I forget how tired I am, and try to coax a few more pictures out of my camera. Quick, hit the power switch, set the shot, “snap!” and then just as quickly, power off. Hmm… It seemed to work, so I’ll save it till I get to Big Heart. On occasion, from this ridgeline, I get quick glimpses of the choppers carrying their drop buckets of water, heading south. As I reach the final ridgeline, I can see smoke wafting across the trail, and you can tell that its source is close! Right at the highpoint, I see a large old growth fir that was blasted by a lightning bolt, leaving its characteristic Zorro slash down the length of the tree, incinerating it. It was burnt, and the ground around it was still smoldering, not 10 feet from the trail. Not surprisingly, it smelled like a campfire, but this one was not welcome, nor comforting. I decide to continue on to the lake, it doesn’t appear that there is that much fuel for it to ignite, pretty rocky here with large boulders, and monster old growth. Not a lot of underbrush or low-lying branches to ignite. Still, I have to stop and consider my options, as this is my way out! Decision made, it’s on down to the lake. Finally! There it is! What a gorgeous lake, it too, has that deep, dark blue that almost has the shade of a precious gem, and every time the sun sparkles off of its surface, it only re-enforces that notion. It too, is ringed by stark granite cliffs that tumble to the water’s edge, looking like fortresses of rock meant to protect this sparkling jewel from thieving eyes. Large snowfields still cling to the rock buttresses that prop up steepled pinnacles of rock. Along its borders, are alpine firs clinging to any spot they can find a foothold, looking like rows of soldiers meant to protect the castle. At its outlet, there is another large waterfall, spilling down steeply angled rock. One of the prettier alpine lakes that I’ve seen in this wilderness. Having read others accounts from guidebooks and trail reports, I know that there are several campsites along its edge, and I desire to find one that overlooks the entire lake, as this will make it easier for me to take pictures. True…I will be farther from water, but after having already walked 7.5 miles and 3300ft of elevation gain, I figure what the heck..That’s nothing compared to the day already…I find that spot, and an eagles perch it is! I even have my own viewing rock that sits over 80 feet off of the lakes surface, with sheer drops on either side. A perfect spot to admire the lake from, and satisfy my digital appetite. After setting up camp, I take advantage of the last rays of sun, and head down to the water’s edge, to fill up, and to get clean. It’s surprising, that a lake this deep, and still clearly being fed by snow melt, would be this warm! I drag my weary body onto the nearest rock after a refreshing dip in the lake, and allow the sun, (now my friend), to dry me and my clothes. So relaxing to lay here, and let the days weariness leave my bones. Back at camp, I am constantly harassed by noseeums, and mosquitoes! AAAAaarrrgggghhhh…I may throw myself off of the cliff! They are absolutely horrible! Even after lathering up with 98% Deet, they kamikaze themselves at my eyes, nose, mouth, and ears, places devoid of Deet. From my vantage point in camp, as I sit to have dinner, I can look left, and see the lake and surrounding snow draped peaks. Look right, and I can see Mt. Baker in the distance, across the deep chasm that I climbed earlier today. Also from here, I can watch the helicopter make its methodical way up the ravine, as I’m almost even with it here, and close enough to see the spray coming out of its bucket. Night falls, and I almost welcome it, as it means that I will put this tired body to rest. Before I do, though, I get to be a solitary witness to the full moon creeping up over the opposing peaks, and as it cleared the top, its reflection illuminated the surface of the lake, reminding me of the neon of Vegas that light up the night. Outstanding! Like the spotlight across a stage, the moon shines its full reflection on the lake, sparkling and reflecting off of the slight ripples created by the slight breeze, making the night more blue than black. An incredible sight, that pictures and words do no service to describe. I feel fortunate to have witnessed such an event. Having filled my memory banks, I wander off to bed.
Day 2 I get up early, wanting to get by the horrid downhill that I climbed up yesterday in the open sun, but I linger long enough to let the morning sun play across the opposite cliffs, making new shadows and highlights on the fractured rock. Beautiful! I fire up camera and camcorder, feeding my obsession to get that right picture. When you’re a rank amateur like me, I guess I keep hoping if I blast away, with different settings and angles, and sheer volume that I must wade through when I get home, (sigh), you hope for that one or two pictures that somehow catch the magic of the moment…My digital appetite now sated, I pack up to leave, and head back. As I approach the previous days burn, For some reason, the refrain, “I been cookin’, man!” enters my mind. Don’t know why, just seems fitting for some reason…There’s smoke in the air, again, and for some reason, it seems heavier…Walking through the thick wafts covering the trail, I stop to glance over at the singed area, and it doesn’t appear to be worse…Probably just my imagination. Still, I’m relieved to be leaving the area, and putting it behind me. At least, now I’m on the right side! I mark the spot with a waypoint on the GPS unit, so that I can inform the rangers of the precise location when I get back. Before I get to Little Heart Lake, I run into two guys carrying axes, and I wonder, “Trail Crew?” so I ask them. Nope. They’re a fire crew, dispatched to check out the burn. I tell them where it is, and then continue my trek home. Guess it won’t be necessary to let the rangers know, appears they’re already on top of it. My pace quickens, as I watch the time pass, and temps move upward, and dread the wide open space during the heat of the day. Now I’m past Copper Lake, and still making good time! This time, as I pass little “Salvation Creek”, I only give it a quick sideways glance, before entering the clearing. Into the full on glare from the menacing orb overhead! Drat! Still hot…At least, I’m heading down, not up, and I know that I can make good time. Every once in a while, I notice as I drag a breath in, the air seems superheated, as if I had just stuck my head into a kiln and drawn a deep breath. Okay, that may seem exaggerated, but who’s telling the story here? This only makes me more determined to get out of the direct sun, so onward! During my headlong descent down Parboil Hill, I pass others toiling to get uphill, and recognize the pained expressions on their faces. That was me yesterday! Funny how no one wants to stop to chat, instead we all just mumble something as we pass, understanding the need to get to shade quickly. I’m relieved to finally make the tree line, but why slow down now? I can still feel the humidity and heat, and want nothing more than to get to the car, and the AC unit…When I reach the part of the trail where I went horribly awry, I look around…Now, I can see why I was led astray! There is a cairn, beyond the trail head, pointing you upstream…Beautiful. Just beautiful. With reluctance, I stop, and add another GPS waypoint, indicating “TRLHD” in capital letters. I’m sure that the sarcasm and frustration of the moment cannot be correctly conveyed during my finger smashing entry, but I feel vindicated somewhat, with the large, bold, letters that I manage to bang out…Aaaaaahhhh…Back to the car, and in 3.5 hours!!! Sure, I’m drenched, my feet feel as if they just crossed the Sahara barefooted, and my back is contorted to the point I feel relatively certain it now resembles Quasimodo’s hump, but hey! I made it back to the car, and AC!!! Shedding pack and boots, I hurriedly slip behind the wheel, insert key, and crank the air up to high! Not sure what preoccupied my thoughts more on my trek home, the customary burger at the end of the trail, or the AC…
All in all, an eventful trip, and a first of sorts for me, as I ventured out alone this time. The awesome views of the alpine lakes in this area make it a worthy trip, especially if you like to pack in your fishing gear. A journey that I can heartily recommend, preferably when the heat is turned down somewhat. That, and the company of a friend, to share the adventure with. Sure, it’s beautiful there, but it has more impact if shared with someone else, to have that common memory, to help one another remember and to reminisce. It’s kind of like that old saying, “If a tree falls in the forest, and there’s no one around to hear it fall, does it make a sound”? I say, the best memories are those that two or more experience.

Trout Lake

Copper Lake Waterfall

The “Old Man” reflection on Copper Lake

Copper Lake Reflections

Little Heart Lake

Ridgeline views, towards Mt. Baker, Trout Lake below

Big Heart Lake, as seen from my “Perch”.

Big Heart Lake snowfields

Eagles Perch. My campsite for the night

Trail steps in rock and wood

Lightning strike still smoldering...

Smoke on the mountain.

Day 1

Day 2

Day 1 After a 3 hour drive to the trail head, only slightly complicated by the fact that the signage to the trail head left a little…No, ok, a lot, to be desired, it felt good to get out and stretch our feet. Seems the directions that you get from Googling it, and from the Mt. Baker-Snoqualmie Natl. forest website, tell you to turn right onto the Old Cascade Highway, west of the town of Skykomish. Funny thing, though…From the highway, there is NO “Old Cascade Highway” sign, appears that you are supposed to know which road that is…Sigh…Learned that you need to turn right at the Money Creek Campground road! The trailhead parking lot is cramped, and during the peak of the season on weekends, I’m sure that the cars line the road. Looking up, we can see that the skies are grey, but no one’s complaining, after the heat of the last week or so, it’s been very hot, almost too hot to struggle with full packs uphill, so the cooler temps are welcome, we’re just hoping it doesn’t rain…Once on the trail, we are amazed at how well maintained it is! From the trail head to Dorothy Lake, it’s almost as if we were walking a wilderness trail at Disneyland, with all the puncheon bridges made out of huge timbers, earthen filled log containers, and log steps! They are the most detailed we’ve ever seen! Even the switch backs are built up, we can’t believe how much time and effort this must have taken, and it aids your trip to Dorothy Lake, some 1.5 miles in. We’ve heard that this is a popular destination for families, probably because of the immaculate trail and relative closeness of the lake to the trail head. After we finish marveling at the trail, and reach the banks of Dorothy Lake, we are greeted by a sign that informs you that there are 32 campsites to choose from, and 4 toilets!!! Wow! Again, we’re amazed…It’s no wonder it’s such a popular spot to come to. The outlet of the lake forms the pretty stream that you’ve been following, called the Miller River. Stepping from the trees that line this side of the lake, onto its banks, you are greeted by a rather large subalpine lake, one of the biggest in the area. The other side of the lake is steep granite walls that lead right to the water’s edge, so walking over there is out, but the jagged and jumbled granite provide a beautiful backdrop that rings the lake, providing ample opportunities to indulge in squeezing wildly on your cameras shutter release…As we plan on hiking to Snoqualmie Lake, and then the following day putting on daypacks and going further up the trail to Nordrum Lake, we push on. The trail along the lake is relatively flat, and long! Its 2 miles along the shore line before we round the end of the lake, and it’s mostly lined with old growth timber, with peek-a-boo views of the lake. The further south we walk along its banks, the personality of the lake changes, as at this end, there are numerous small islands dotting this end of the lake, with trees growing on their domes. Other than looking at the changing scenery, we are also keeping our eye on the low lying clouds overhead…Above the granite lined rim of the lake; you can see the gray of a dense cloud/ fog layer settling in. Hope that isn’t what we’re going to have to contend with…Finally reaching the farthest reaches of the lake, we round the bend, and cross the inlet stream that has washed out the bridge that used to be here, and begin the switchbacks uphill. It’s the steepest portion of the trail, gaining almost 700ft in .8 miles. Once at the top, we begin descending down into Bear lake, and fog…The trail to this point, with the exception of a few downed trees, has been clear and relatively easy to negotiate, and as we’re still pretty impressed with the maintenance of the trail, we mention this to a trail crew that we pass, all dressed in raingear, which, should have been a clue that for the moment escaped us…Greg praises the trail crew for their worthy efforts as we pass, which garners the reply, “thanks, but wait till you get further down..” I don’t like the sound of that. Another clue, that for the moment, gets stored in the back of the memory banks. There was to be one final clue as to how the rest of the trip was going to go…As we neared the banks of Bear Lake, its edge was barely discernable. We were now completely engulfed in fog, totally socked in. Since there were no photo taking opportunities to take advantage of, shy of some “Gorilla’s in the mist” analogies, we head back out on the trail after a short nutrition break to fill some empty tanks. Not long into our re-start, we realize the reasons for the first and second clues…The Huckleberry brush is now crowding the trail, and as it’s now loaded with moisture from the heavy mist that surrounds us, we’re starting to get a little damp as we push through the soggy mess…Ok, wet. Drenched, actually…So, now the trail isn’t so well maintained, and suddenly the logic of wearing raingear now appears to be sound. I know I was thinking when we first passed the trail crew all covered in raingear, and we in our shorts and tee-shirts, I was thinking, “wow, what a bunch of weenies…” I take it all back now…The trail here is not only lined with sopping wet brush, but massive old growth cedars who, by the way, like it wet. In some instances, they are even growing on boulders or rock faces that seems impossible for the sheer size of some of these trees…Greg notes that they must have strong core muscles. Unfortunately, these old growth trees have collected the heavy fog in the area, and filled to overflow with moisture, they now shed it on us as we walk beneath them, and it falls like rain, huge drops smattering the ground, brush, and backs of our exposed necks. Nothing like a big fat drop of wet down your neck to further brighten your mood. The fog gets no better, and in some places it looks as if it had really rained, leaving puddles in the trail. A short climb once again, to a saddle, and then we drop down into Snoqualmie Lake. Good thing we had GPS units, as it would have been difficult to guess where the lake began, for as we approached its banks, we could not see it until we were right on top of it. Once along the shore line, we followed the trail until we could find an agreeable spot to pitch camp, and the pickings were slim. We didn’t find that spot until we got to the far end of the lake, at the outlet, where there was a nice spot partially tucked back under some trees, and elevated above the trail somewhat, and close to the outlet stream for water. Sold! After setting up camp, we head down to the stream to get water for dinner, and as Greg is pumping water, I spot a furry little creature running along the bank, keeping a wary eye on us. At first, I think it’s a weasel, but as it gets closer, I realize it’s something I’ve not seen before. It’s all one color, a deep chocolate brown, and a relatively slim black fur tail. It seems a little upset that we’ve invaded his happy hunting grounds, pacing back and forth a few times with a look of consternation, before retreating to the cover of the boulders and trees. It’s not until we get home, and look on line that we figure out that it was a mink. Dropping our water off at camp, we venture back out to the banks of the lake hoping for a clear view. But, our hopes remain unrealized, as the lake stays shrouded in mist. Back at camp, we dive into our provisions, unable to hold back our ravenous appetites no longer. Having grown tired of the same old freeze dried meals, trail fare this evening is going to be something completely different. We brought sandwiches with all the fixings: Pastrami, Salami, cheddar, and Provolone cheeses!! Outstanding! And, how did we keep them cold, you ask? Quart size freezer bags, filled about 1/3 with water, and then laid flat in the freezer to freeze. Makes a nice thin sheet of ice, and with two of them, I sandwiched the meat, cheese, and condiments (you don’t think I’d eat a meat sandwich without mustard and mayo, do you?) between the ice, and viola’! A portable reefer! There was still ice when we got to camp. Yeah, it was a little heavy, but…It was a welcome change from the usual. With our hunger now appeased, we sigh with contentment, lean back to relax, and enjoy the quiet and…Drip, drip, drip…Perfect! The dew in the trees has now formed into treedrops, and is now raining on our parade. With resignation, we heft ourselves out of our comfortable positions, and rig a tarp over our heads to shed the now constant dripping. Mission accomplished, and our site now looks like ye olde “Tarpe and Tent”, complete with living room and sleeping quarters. The fog has now firmly entrenched itself, so we remain in the living room for the rest of the evening. That is, until around 9:30pm…the daylight giving way to dark, the faint sounds of the small stream making its way over the rocks, and the gentle tapping of the droplets on the tarp that shelters us, create a lullaby that causes a slack jaw and droopy eyelids…Until the rude awaking created by something heavy crashing down through the tree limbs right behind our heads! “Crash, bang, snap, THUMP!” Yeow! I’ve been had!!! Moving faster than I’ve moved all day, I dart out from under the tarp, ready to…Ready to do what I’m not sure, but…Check my drawers maybe? Whatever the case may be, I’m now wide awake, and staring into Greg’s bemused face. “What was that?” I asked Greg wild-eyed, to which he replied with thinly veiled guffaws, “I don’t know, a branch maybe?” A branch? A branch from what, a Redwood??? The night is still once again, and since nothing seems to be moving other than my racing heart, and I’m getting wet outside of our little sanctuary, I convince myself that all is right with the world once again, and plop myself back down…Too close to our little mosquito stick that we had left burning between us. Within seconds, Greg is swatting at me, “Dave! Dave! The stick!” All my muddled brain could register was that the “stick” that had just attacked us earlier was back again for round two, so I twist my body around again to try and locate our harasser again, to defend myself if necessary. Greg practically has to push me off the glowing ember of our little mosquito smoke screen, that has now become a red hot poker…Drat! I managed to burn a perfect little hole into my brand new pants! Sigh…Oh, well, at least it’s on the pocket, and I convince myself that will be ok. If I fall into the lake, think how much faster the water will now drain from that pocket with the pre-drilled hole…Not being able to stand any more fun, we turn in, hoping for better weather tomorrow…
Day 2. No such luck. Again, we are greeted by the dreary dampness that has settled over the area. Not wanting to be outdone by this grey cloak of doom draped over us, we match it, and raise it to the next level with our own Eeyoresque mood, and proclaim, “That’s it, guess I’ll go home…” Tired of not being able to see anything, and on top of that, tired of being wet with no real way to dry out, we decide to not pursue going to Nordrum lake with the threat of another night here in the land of Pea Soup and man eating sticks…Packing away tent and tarp, we head for home, dressed appropriately in the proper attire for this area, raingear. Along the way back, we make a startling discovery! There is Deer Lake! We passed right by it yesterday, not 8 feet from the trail without ever seeing it. And, as luck would have it, we had a small clearing in the fog, so that we could actually see about half of the lake. Quickly whipping out our cameras, knowing the opportunity could fade in an instant, we manage to get some proof that we actually did see the upper lakes…Past the trail crew again, this time similarly attired, we wound down trail once again to Dorothy Lake, where we were able to shed the raingear, as it was below the gloom that we had left behind at the pass…At the lakes edge, we met a ranger and stopped and chatted with him for a few minutes. After mentioning how socked in it was at the lakes above, with a wave of his hand, he said, “Oh, yeah, that lake has a reputation of always being covered in fog..” As his voice trailed off, I thought, “brilliant! If only I had known before!” Helpful news now…I guess that this story can only add to its reputation. Further down the trail, we would talk to two more people, and they verified what the ranger had already told us, that they too, had been to the lake when it was like that…So, I would like to add here, to be sure and check the weather reports before venturing up to Snoqualmie Lake. That is, unless you are looking for a spot that is shrouded in mists, then I’ve got a hot tip for you…Back to the car; we load our wet gear, and head for home. We load all the gear, that is, except for Dave’s new trekking poles...I left them, quite by accident, in front of Greg’s truck, and didn’t realize it until I got home, and couldn’t find them anywhere…I’m sure they got wadded up when we drove off, so I would like to apologize now for littering at the trailhead…if you were the one to properly dispose of a mangled, brand new set of trekking poles, I thank you for picking up my mess…With a tear in my eye….Dorothy lake, in its own right, would be a great day hike and quite possibly is good for fishing, as we did see some telltale rings from trout jumping. And, if you picked a good weather day, going to Snoqualmie lake and beyond, may reward you with sights of four or five lakes in this part of the Alpine Lakes Wilderness…As Snoqualmie Lake remained shy for us, hiding behind its veil of mist, could you do me a favor? Please send me a picture of what the lake looks like when it decides not to hide, I’d like to see!

Stairway to Dorothy Lake

Greg finds safe passage over the marshy ground

Camp Robber Creek, as seen from the bridge

Dorothy Lake Beach, midway on the lake

Southern end of Dorothy Lake, small islands

Greg sets up camp at Snoqualmie Lake

Bashful Snoqualmie Lake

Deer lake lily pads

Deer Lake color

Greg stands among the giants

The path along Bear Lake narrows between large trees and rock .

Switchback views above Dorothy Lake

Day 1.Greg and I had already hiked in the area, so we were familiar with the long drive to get to the trailheads on this side of the Alpine Lakes Wilderness area, so we opted this time to drive over and get a campsite at Money Creek campground, so we could get an early start the following morning.
Knowing that we would need an early start on this hike, (the first day covered 10 miles), and the drive to the trailhead was 3 hours away, we decided to camp the first night at Money Creek Campground, only a few miles away from the trailhead. And, after our last foray into the area, we also knew that we would be close to the bustling burg of Skykomish, which would give us a place to eat dinner. It’s always nice to start a 3 day journey with a nice meal! This hike would cover 31.5 miles into some of the more rugged backcountry the Alpine Lakes Wilderness has to offer, so getting a good night’s sleep and a full belly ranked high on our to do list. Perfect, since we had already scouted this area from the last hike, we were able to drive right to the Money Creek campground, and secure our spot.  Starting on a Thursday, we figured it wouldn’t be a problem to find a site we could live with…After getting to the campground, we drove around on the East side first to look for a site, and it appeared that they were full, so we ventured over to the West side, to find a spot. Money Creek Campground sits tucked in a bend of the Skykomish River, and straddles the Old Cascades Highway, thus bisecting the campground into two sections. We drove around until we found a spot at the far west end of the campground, and decided this would be a good spot. A nice campsite, near a trail that led down to the river. At this point, there was a railroad trestle crossing the river, and the tracks ran by only 30 to 40 feet from our spot for the night. After setting up, and walking down to the river, we witnessed a train rolling by, and thought that it wouldn’t be too bad…Hopefully, we would only get one, or at the most, two that would pass by in the night…It was a good thought, anyway. That, and the fact that there were only a few spots left, all here on the west side, should have raised the question as to why all the empty spots were over here…After setting up camp, we headed for town, and dinner. Skykomish is a small town on the banks of the Skykomish river, and they are currently in the process of cleaning up the soil underneath the town, so right where the center of town used to be, there is this huge pit, half filled with water, and the buildings that were over this now large pit, had all been moved, and were sitting around the outskirts of the hole on blocks, looking like old abandoned hulks left to rot on the side of the road, jacked up with wooden blocks so that the tires could be removed. It appears that they still have some work to do, and may not be done until 2012, but thankfully, since we couldn’t afford to wait that long for food, we found that the Cascadia Inn was still open, and serving dinner. Their Prime Rib dinner was excellent, and we were pleased to find such good food so close to the campsite! If you’re ever in the area, be sure and stop, the food will not disappoint!
Tanks full, we return to our camp, to enjoy a fire, another treat that we don’t get often on our backcountry experiences. The roar of the fire and its glow are a welcome distraction before turning in, and it’s not long before we start to get drowsy, watching the sparks wind their way up like fireflies in the dark, before winking out, leaving your eyes to sink down, and watch a fresh batch jettison from the tips of flames. And, just like counting sheep, it brings about lethargy and yawning, so we head for the bags. Settled in, it’s not long before we’ve succumbed to sleep, and then it happens….WHOOOOOO!!!! WHOOOOOOOOWHOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!! I almost leap out of bed, rudely jerked out of sleep, to what I’m sure at that precise moment is a truck doing 90, headlights blazing, pinpointing its target so that there is no chance of missing our tent, its intended target! Sure, my rational mind tells me it’s just a train, but my body doesn’t seem inclined to want to take that chance, and it’s screaming at me to get the heck out of the way! With the light from the headlamp piercing our tent, the demonic shrill of the whistle, (which I’m convinced is being tugged on maniacally by the all too gleeful engineer), and the shuddering ground that feels as if a herd of buffalo are intent on trampling us into the dust, it’s all that I can do to keep from bolting from the tent, screaming, “Run for your lives!!!” Seems that site is right at the bend in the track, so the headlight is upon you as it comes across the trestle, and then the track veers off somewhat, but no matter. The effect that you are about to be run over, has already been felt. That would happen another 3 or 4 times during the night, so forget a restful sleep. And, the urge to bolt never leaves me the rest of the night. Just perfect…
Day 2. 9.9 miles, 3300ft elevation gain. Making an oath to never camp in front of a runaway train ever again, we pack our gear and head for the trailhead at Stevens Pass, and are disappointed to see the place totally socked in with fog! Just great! Is this going to be another of those hikes that we can’t see anything? We load up, and head up the trail, appears that we’re going to find out for ourselves if the weather is going to cooperate. This part of the trail sidehills it’s way across the Stevens Pass ski slopes, to make the highpoint at one of the chairlift terminals. Seems strange to see the ski area this way, as if it’s been abandoned, setting high off the ground, waiting for the next snowfall, chairs running down the slope and disappearing into the treeline and fog. The trail follows the hillside down, also disappearing into the gray mists. We’re currently on the PCT, and will be for awhile before our cut off that takes us down to Josephine Lake, on trail #1551. About 4 miles in, we pass our first of several lakes, Lake Susan Jane, a small lake at the base of a large talus field, consisting of large granite rocks spilling down a steep hillside. There are several areas along the slopes here that are filled with talus and huge granite boulders, but the trail crews have done an admiral job of cutting the trail through them. Not much further along the trail, we come to our trail junction for trail #1551, and follow a circuitous route along another steep slope, down into Josephine Lake basin. Finally, some of the bothersome fog has now lifted, and from up high, we can look down upon Josephine Lake, a deep midnight blue, fading to a dark turquoise blue as it nears the shallows along the edges. And, there in the middle of the lake, is a guy tooling around in a rubber raft! I have to admit, I was a little astonished by this, knowing that someone had to want that bad enough to lug one in. Very pretty lake, and there were a few campsites here along the southern shore. Most of the north and west side are all steep talus slopes, a familiar scene that will be repeated over and over on this loop hike. The trail drops off steeply over the outlet side of the lake, and becomes the headwater for Icicle Creek, and follows the stream for 2 miles, before crossing it one last time. Most of the way here is flat, through deep huckleberry brush that lines both sides of the trail, and is overgrown in spots. Still, the trail is easy to follow, and we make good time to the creek crossing before stopping to rest. Shortly after the crossing, you can see the faint trail that heads uphill to the Chain Lakes, #1569. This part of the trail starts out steep, and just keeps going steep, as it switchbacks through old growth timber up, it gains 1900ft in 2.3 miles. A little less than a 1000ft per mile, but still very steep. Also, the fact that the trail is not very well maintained, and goes straight up the hillside in places, instead of giving your foot a flat foundation to push off on, adds to the impression that this trail has such a rapid incline…I guess there is some good news, it’s all under tree cover. Doing this in the open on a hot day would make you wonder why you ever took up backpacking in the first place…Finally, we break the tree line, and are greeted by the spectacular view of the first Chain Lake. The water here is that deep azure blue that really catches your eye, and seems the unmistakable hue for the lakes in this wilderness. To our left, is a large granite cliff side, that has dropped jumbled boulders in landslide fashion right to the water’s edge, and all along the top of the sheer cliff are jagged points jutting skyward, like shards of broken glass. To our right the trail winds through small meadows, interspersed with alpine firs, on the only part of flat ground here in the lakes basin. After the long trudge so far, we are looking forward to dropping the loads off of our sagging shoulders, so it’s time to move on. The next Chain Lake is just over the rise, and it is by far, the most beautiful. It’s not a large lake, but it lies nestled among large granite outcroppings that have become small gardens, with tufts of grass and heather growing at the base of alpine trees, small meadows that drop down to the water’s edge at this end of the lake, as well as at the other. And, at the far end, the carefully maintained garden of grass and tree give way to more steep talus slopes, that continue up to the highpoint of towering Bulls Tooth, the mountain that we will circumnavigate on this hike. This side of Bulls Tooth, as viewed from the lakes edge, gives the appearance of a large, stony, amphitheater, curved around the far side of the lake. To the far left of where we stand taking in the views, is the sharks fin of the ridgeline that bordered the first lake, and it rises to a sharp triangular point, looking every bit like the foreboding fin of a circling shark. Impressive! Reminds me of Prusik Peak in the Enchantments, but the maps that we have give it no name. It is at this point, there is a flat spot next to a weathered tree, that we decide to eventually make camp, for the prime spot on the lake is already taken, a flat spot on a large granite overlook that rises about 20 feet from the surface of the lake, ringed in trees. No matter, for we are well pleased with our spot. After setting up camp, we wash up in the cold lake, and sit for awhile on the flat granite boulders next to the lake, spreading out our wet laundry and allowing the sun to dry us. The rest of the day is spent exploring the banks of the lakes here, taking pictures of all that our eyes can see, but knowing that they will not do this remarkable place justice, serving only as reminders of when we visited so grand a place. As night nears, we see our old friend reappear, as a thick blanket of fog slowly envelopes the jagged peaks, then the lower hills, and finally, completely enshrouds us, hiding the nearby lake from view. As the wind drives the heavy wisps of moisture by us in the fading daylight, it reminds me of being on a ship on calm waters, the surface hidden from view, and the only thing that you feel is the sensation of movement as the ship glides smoothly over the fog draped surface, giving you a slight case of vertigo. I almost feel as if we need to lean into it, to keep from tipping over. Finally, the day yields to night, and we put both of our Black Diamond lanterns on our trekking poles, placing them about 5 feet apart, like landing beacons to chase back the night. The effect of being near the water, or on a dock is now only enhanced, as the damp fog races by the lights, rustling the tree branches overhead, while the faint running of water over rocks reaches our ears through the ebb and flow of the wind. It’s an eerie feeling, sitting here in the wilderness, listening to the night. Occasionally, the sounds of the campsite across the lake reach us, and you can hear the conversations intermingled with laughter, even though you can’t see them. Wonder if they can see our beacons from their location? Then, we hear a startling scream, as if something has uttered its last breath in terror. What was that? Suddenly, all the conversation dried up, as each set of ears, in our campsite, and all the others, came to attention, straining to hear if there was going to be more, and from what direction it came from. It seemed the entire area was collectively holding its breath, listening for more clues as to what was going on. After finally needing to inhale, and allowing our breathing to return to normal, we waited for several more minutes, but the sound was gone as suddenly as it appeared, leaving us to wonder what had just happened. Time to turn in, and looking around at the dense fog that is now starting to dampen everything around us, we hope for clearer weather tomorrow.
Day 3 9.7 miles, 1261ft gain/3760ft loss. Another big day awaits us, and we are overjoyed to awake to no fog, even though the reminder of last night is everywhere, the spent fog having left its moisture on everything here at the lake, making the rain fly on the tent soggy. After loading our gear, we follow the trail up along the base of the Prusik Peak look alike that switchbacks steeply through talus slopes of granite to a saddle that looks into the Doelle Lake basin that we are about to enter, and the Chain Lakes area that we have just left. Great views here of mountain peaks distant in the southwest, possibly Mt. Hinman, or Mt. Daniel. To the northwest, we spy Mt. Baker, and below, the deep turquoise blue of Upper Doelle lake. We stand here for several minutes, making sure that our cameras and memory banks take in their fill. Then, we begin our downhill tromp to reach the edge of the lake. Before long we stand at its banks, and snap more pictures before moving on. It, too, is ringed with trees here on the vegetated edge, and the steep bowl that it sits in, below Bull’s tooth, is sheer scree and talus slope right into the lake itself, giving evidence to the fact that over the centuries the mountain has been slowly crumbling into the Doelle Lake Basin, just as it had in the Chain Lakes region. Seems every lake that we have seen on this trek has been the same. Further down the trail, we come to lower Doelle Lake, and are amazed to see the fish leaping out of the water. It was as if someone had electrified the water, and the fish where trying in vain to leave their watery confines to escape the torment! Reminded me of popcorn popping over an open fire, with the kernels dancing and jumping out of the frying pan. Too many to count! A regular trout feeding frenzy, as the cloud of mosquitoes that hovered just over the surface of the water provided a target rich environment for the hungry fish. It was a sight I loved to see, not only for the sheer amount of trout out of the water at any one time, but for the fact that it was good to see something feeding on the mosquitoes for a change…From the lake on, most maps do not show a trail anymore, unlike our Alpine Lakes Wilderness map, where we first got the idea to do this loop in the first place. Armed with our GPS unit, that’s been downloaded with an approximate route to follow to Frosty Pass, we are glad to see that even though many maps do not show a trail, one still exists. There is a faint trail that must have been the original one that we see on our map. It drops down into a flower filled meadow that Doughgod Creek meanders through, before disappearing on the far side. Beautiful plumage here, a patchwork of color, as each flower species has claimed its space, providing large solid colors of red, purple, and yellow scattered throughout the meadow’s tall grasses. It is at once, unique and beautiful, for usually these meadows are interspersed with all the varieties, making a rainbow effect. Across the meadow, we find the traces of trail once again, and follow it uphill for a ways through old forest, which thins to huckleberry, and vine maple, which are better suited to cling to the steep slopes that we are now traversing. The trail follows the ridgeline here, and it’s pretty easy to follow, as there is not much real estate for the pathway to deviate from. It’s along this part of the trail that we stop and have lunch, for the views stretch on endlessly. A good breeze is blowing, and helps to keep the mosquitoes at bay. Below us, in dense forest, we can see the cleft that is the Doughgod Creek drainage, running southwest of the backside of Bulls Tooth Mt, which eventually reaches Icicle creek. I’m thankful that we are staying high on the ridgeline, instead of traipsing through that! Once again, we can see the distant snow covered mountains to the southwest that must be either Hinman, or Daniel, the only prominent peaks in the region that remain snow and ice covered. Back on the trail (which is still easy to follow here), we come to an embankment above another small meadow, and lose the trail. It disappears here on the hillside, and we cannot find it. Taking bearings, and following our predetermined route on the GPS unit, we slog downhill across the meadow, and make our own way towards Frosty Pass. Good thing there isn’t much underbrush to slow us down. After about a half hour or so of route finding, we’re happy to finally cross the trail once again, and it is more visible now than it ever was, creating a deep furrow in the grassland here. If it is so well travelled here, how did we lose it at the hill? We mark where we re-joined the trail, and press on to Frosty Pass. Now, when I think of a pass, I think of an area that is above treeline, and provides views of the area, but Frosty Pass does not fit into that mold. It merely seems a trail junction to me, at a flat spot in a meadow, surrounded by alpine firs that have grown tall enough to block out any view that might once have been. We’re now back on trail #1592 that will head downhill to the junction with trail #1551 on Icicle creek, where we plan on spending another night. Having looked at the map, we know that from here on, it’s all downhill to our next campsite along the banks of Icicle creek, near a bridge crossing. Neither Greg or I prefer going downhill, as it’s hard on the knees, so we decide to take our time, hoping not to wear our already taxed knees out, like stopping every once and awhile to give the ol’ brakes a chance to cool off! We pass the junction for Lake Margaret, not wanting to backtrack, and minutes later, we stop to talk to a couple of guys that have no backpacks, are hand carrying Nalgene bottles with water, and in casual attire….Like, shorts and tennis shoes! Where in the world did they just come from, for as far as I can see on the map, to get to where we’re at is no short day hike!!! They warn us of thick underbrush to come, and not far from the Lake Margaret turn off, we realize they are right. Waist to chest high, the brush is thick, and confining, holding in the moisture on this warm day, creating thick, dense air that is harder to breathe, like a sweltering, humid jungle. For 45 minutes we battle the brush, pushing our way through, being careful where we put our feet, for the ground underneath is rocky, and unstable. It would be very easy to turn an ankle here. Sometimes, in desperation, I would find myself slashing at the unyielding brush with my trekking poles, yelling at the same time, longing for a razor sharp edge on the poles so that I could inflict greater damage on our new nemesis…It’s enough to drive one crazy, I tell you!!! Then, we reach the tree line, and with sighs of relief, the brush gives way, if only momentarily. We would have to wade through these spots 2 more times, as the forest ends and the open areas breed more of the thick greenery. The rest of the trail is unremarkable tree shrouded trail, but at least we are free from beating the underbrush. We reach the banks of Icicle creek, and there is a bridge that looks as if it could hold a truck, it’s that wide and stout. I assume it must be designed for the horse travel that sometimes occurs. During our entire trek, we passed several horse camps, but never saw their intended occupants...The first campsite on this side of the creek was already taken, so we crossed the bridge, and found several flat, needle covered tent sites under the firs, maybe a 100 yards or so from the creek crossing. Very nice spots, as well, close to the stream. We had no sooner plopped our gear down at the spot we chose for the night, when two more hikers showed up, and asked if they, too could camp here. No problem, this area looks as if it could hold 10 tents…They broke out their Green Trails map, and asked us if they could tell us where they were, because according to their map, they were in the wrong place! Breaking out my Alpine Lakes map, we compared, and there seemed to be quite a discrepancy, on which direction the trail here went to cross the creek. Then, it dawned on me, as well, why I kept wondering why the trail that we had preloaded into our GPS unit seemed so wrong…Using the TOPO software and trails, I had traced our route for the unit, and following the existing trail to the creek, it showed that we had missed the track that I had traced at home by a looong ways…You have a tendency to trust what the GPS unit is telling you, yet how were we to know that there would be such a huge difference? Turns out, it was a mile long discrepancy, a good reminder to use maps as a guideline, not as a rule…I don’t feel so bad now, knowing I was not the only one that was confused by the differences in the maps. Log on now to find the real trail!!! I must add here, though, that the Alpine Lakes map, of the three, was the closest to the actual. We run a line between trees, and because the day is sunny and warm, we get a chance to dry out our soaked tent from the night before. Peeling off our boots, and dumping them out, reveals all of the varied terrain we’ve been over today. Fir needles, forest floor duff, dirt, burrs, all manner of flora and fauna from our headlong scramble through thick brush, end up in a pile on the ground. I’m shocked to see that there isn’t more granite…A long day, and we’re glad to be able to rest weary knees. The days of up and down are starting to really take a toll on Greg’s…
Day 4 12 miles, 2351ft gain/ 1459ft loss. By far, our biggest day for mileage, so we rise early to get a good start. The day starts warm and clear, and this time, we’re able to pack a dry tent! We say good bye to Bruce and Skip, the two guys that shared the area, and we aren’t on the trail but moments, and Dave goes the wrong direction! I still suffer from the trail misdirection’s from yesterday, in my mind we had to go this way! Greg asked if I was sure this was the right way, and since I’m not sure, I go to the GPS unit, and realize…Yep! Wrong way! Good thing for the GPS! A quick turn around, and we’re back on track. The trail stays in the forest, but wherever there is an open area, there is a profusion of wet brush that jabs and tears at us, and our legs are sore and bleeding now from all the brush strikes. This part of the trail we keep Icicle Creek on our left shoulder to the Leland creek junction. According to the US TOPO maps, it’s just beyond the creek crossing that there is supposed to be a Bark Cabin??? I had noted it on the track we traced, but, seeing that it will require us to de-boot in order to get across Icicle creek to seek out the cabin, we decide against it, and continue down trail for home. Near Brush creek, and still under forest canopy, we notice blaze marks on the trees. They resemble a large “i”, obviously carved into the bark a long time ago, as a lot of them are now healed over, creating nothing more than indents or scars on the trees. It becomes a game of sorts, to occupy the mind while we trudge along, to see if we can spy the next blaze, as there is nothing else to really see as we hike through the forest. It continues like this until we reach the Chain Lakes trail junction once again. We’ve completed the loop! Still going slightly uphill and again are fighting the huckleberry brush now. Seems strange to me that it’s called Huckleberry, as they more closely resemble Blueberries to me! Their leaves turn scarlet in the fall, and the fruit looks and tastes more like blueberries…Growing up on the Oregon Coast, what we called Huckleberries was completely different! The berries were smaller, and darker, almost black, and the bush had small, dark green, almost waxy, leaves. We also had red huckleberries, that were an almost translucent pink/red and the berries were very tart. Not at all like what is called Huckleberries around here. And, so now you see the kinds of things that run through your mind, when you’re trudging along through country side you’ve already seen or there is nothing to really look at…The mind just kind of wanders, being bored with the mindless march that you kind of fall into…My reverie is broken as we happen across a couple guys out day hiking near Josephine Lake. They are out to scout out backcountry ski routes, as they have seen BullsTooth from the Stevens Pass ski area, and are curious as to how to get there…Seriously??? We reach Josephine Lake and decide to stop for a rest, and quick bite, and stop at the waters edge. It is now breezy, and cool, and being sweaty, it only serves to cool us too much, and we find shelter next to large trees that help to break the wind. As we plop down to avoid the wind, and grab a bite, we notice a strange sight. There, perched on a rock, is a lone boot. Puzzled, we look around, seeing if its owner is close by. Strange. We don’t see any other gear lying around, nor do we see any people nearby, either. Hmmm…For some reason, it seemed appropriate that I take a picture of such a strange sight, so I walk over closer to snap a photo of it, thinking to myself, “who would leave one boot here?”…As I click my picture, Greg notes, in his outside voice, “What Moron (large emphasis on the word “moron”) would leave his boot here?!” And, at that instant, as if in answer to his query, Redbeard the Bootless Backpacker just pops out of the surrounding brush, walks over to the lone boot, and says, “Wonder who added this sock to my boot?”,  with an ever so slightly accusatory glance at Greg and I…(I’m thinkin’ more at Greg than I, since he was the one that vocalized what we were both thinking…) I know I looked around in bewilderment, like Ralph in the movie, “A Christmas Story”…”Flick who?” Then down at my own boots as if to say, “Nope. Not mine. Still got both of my socks…Must be that other Moron…” Knowing that there are no other people around to which his question is asked, we ask, “Oh, is that your boot?” leaving the moron part out this time. “Yep. See? It’s broken”, and he shows us by giving the boot a quick downward jerk, and the whole boot sole flaps down, lolling around like the tongue on a happy puppy, overjoyed that his master has come back to retrieve him…We talk for a few minutes, and wish him luck as he heads up trail in his sandals….”Socks and Sandals guy, you’re one of us!” A familiar refrain from a local commercial immediately runs through my mind, but I’m not tempted to blurt it out, seems there’s already been enough blurting… I’m just wondering, but, does anybody Know Shoeless Redbeard? If they do, I have a great Christmas gift suggestion…A tube of Shoe Goo would probably rank high on the ol’ Wish List…I’m just saying…From Josephine back up around to the top, and a right at the junction, and we’re back on the PCT. From here, it’s a nice gradual incline (much easier on sore knees) along the same trail that before had the sights obscured by fog. Now, we can see the Stevens Pass ski area and the surrounding peaks. On the switchbacks uphill, right below the chair lift for this side, we stop again, and talk with a guy and his dog, and it was during this conversation, that another man walks up, a through hiker that is doing the whole PCT trail. He’s travelling light, and the dog man asks him, “So, I know that everyone that does the PCT has a handle, what’s yours?” He tells us Princess…Okay, didn’t see that one coming…I’m sure by the expressions on our faces that he feels he must explain, so he gives us this explanation…That’s what he calls everyone around him when they start to wuss out..”Come on, Princess, you can do it!” So, the moniker stuck, I guess…I’m thinkin’, though, that I would be changin’ that one real quick…He started in April on the border, and is making his way to Canada, the terminus for the trail, says he’s doing about 30-35 miles a day. Amazing…He’s in a hurry to get to the pass, so that he can hitchhike into town for something to eat, so off he goes. We won’t see him again. Knowing that our trip will soon be over, we get up over the top, down across the ski area, and back to the truck. It was nice to be able to see what we had missed the first time, because of the dense fog. We drop the tailgate on Greg’s truck to drop our gear, and shed our hiking boots, and as we’re sitting on the gate, a truck comes blazing in, and parks right in front of the trailhead. The doors open and out roll two guys dressed in camouflage, sporting side arms! They walk around to the back of the SUV, and open the back doors, so that they can prep their gear. It was then it happened…A woman got out of the truck, obviously not dressed for adventure, (she must have been just dropping them off), opened a side door, and then ends up at the other end of a rocket that comes flying out of the truck, straining at his leash, choking and gasping, as he tries to get free of the leash, and he’s heading straight for us! You can see its taking all of her might to just keep hanging on, and finally she gets him turned, and as he jets off in the other direction, well…She’s on the other end of “crack the whip!” and Blam-O!!! A perfect 180 in the air, feet up, toss shoes, and land in crumpled heap on the ground, head and shoulders leading…It’s a perfect barrel roll, too! I mean, a complete somersault in a cloud of dust. If a linebacker had just accomplished this feat, he’d be pumping his fists in the air after having delivered such a slobberknocker, all the while keeping an eye on the jumbotron for an instant replay of such a crushing hit. No sooner had the dust settled, when her compassionate husband, whose back had been to this spectacle the whole time, mutters in obvious concern, “What the #&%^ are you doing?” OH, if only there were instant replay…You know, at the time that it happened, I didn’t laugh, because I felt sorry for her, it looked like it really hurt, getting body slammed on the pavement and gravel, not to mention the emotional response she got as she pulled herself up and dusted herself off…But the replay in my mind? Well, let’s just say I won’t be forgetting that one soon…We enjoyed our trip into this part of the Alpine Lakes Wilderness, and it truly is worth the visit, for it has everything that makes the Alpine Lakes a special area. Lots of lakes, high country, big views, routefinding, and fishing, if you remembered to bring your pole.

The boot...

Tranquil? spot at Money Creek Campground

Sunset over the town of Skykomish

Greg along the trails at Stevens Pass

Snowless slopes at Stevens Pass

Along the PCT, well maintained trail through talus slopes

Looking down onto Josephine Lake, and the lone tuber.

First Chain lake you see, as you come out of treeline.

the middle Chain Lake, and most beautiful. Camp is on the far point from here

“Shark Fin” Rock overlooks all the Chain lakes from it’s throne.

Rock Garden. At the third Chain Lake.

Our camp at Chain Lakes, with Bulls Tooth Mt. in the background.

Outlet at middle Chain Lake, close to camp, fog shrouds Bulls Tooth MT.

The boys, stayin’ warm in camp.

From up on the ridgeline, looking back one last time at Chain Lakes

Looking down from the ridgeline trail at the 3rd Chain Lake

From the saddle, looking down into Doelle Lakes basin

Closer now to the Upper Doelle Lake, can see the lower to the right.

Upper Doelle Lake, with Bulls Tooth and the saddle we came over to right

Lower Doelle Lake, with fish jumping. Bulls Tooth in the background.

Greg amidst a sea of color, meadow along Doughgod Creek.

Ridgeline view of backside of Bulls Tooth Mt.

From the same ridge, peek a boo views of Mt Baker

 Crossing at Doughgod Creek, before merging with Icicle Creek trail

Chicken O’ The Woods. Bright colors that stand out under the forest canopy

Awash in foliage, Dave’s shirt appears to be the only bright thing here...

Blaze on Icicle Creek Trail...Is it an “i”???

Potholes above Josephine Lake

From the chair lift on top of saddle. The small points sticking up are Bulls Tooth in the distance.

Stevens Pass Ski area

Day 1. 7.1 miles 2517ft gain/1407ft loss. It’s nice to have a hike that’s close to home, for a change. Usually, if we wanted an early start, this required us to either leave in the dead of…Early morning, or leave the day before and find a good place close to the trailhead to make camp. However, this hike starts in the Alpental Ski resort parking lot, up on Snoqualmie Pass, so I was able to leave from home, and arrive at 10:40am, a nice reprieve from hours of driving. The parking lot is huge, and there were already several cars, so I was worried that there might be some difficulty in finding a spot tonight. The starting elevation is at 3112ft, and the final destination today at Upper Wildcat Lake, is at 4224ft. This shouldn’t be a huge day for climbing upward, so I plan on taking my time, and taking lots of pictures. Loading up, I head up the trail, and it’s a nice gradual start through forest, with an occasional clearing as you cross large talus fields. From these clearings, you are able to see some of the dominant peaks in the region, as they streak upward. The steep vertical slopes of these arrowhead shaped mountains remind one of more distant and famous peaks, perhaps even the namesake of the local ski resort, the Alps. At 1.7 miles in, you reach a trail junction that heads upward, and there are several switchbacks uphill that take you to the saddle before dropping down into the Snow Lake basin, at 2.33 miles. You are gaining about 510ft in a little over .6 miles, so it’s fairly steep, but the switchbacks are good at taking out the slope. Once you get to the saddle and start down into Snow Lake, the views from the trail in places are awesome, as the trees part in the right places to give you a birds eye view of the lake. It’s very large, and set against steep granite slopes that lead away from where the trail comes over the ridge, with open views across the lake to valleys and mountains in the distance. It truly is a beautiful lake, and I begin to appreciate why the parking lot is so huge. For here, close to Seattle and within a short hike’s distance, is a gorgeous, deep blue sub-alpine lake. On the eastern banks of the lake, are several campsites and a day use area, and I notice that there are many small children backpacking for perhaps the first time with their parents, a wonderful indoctrination into the backcountry. From a rock outcropping about mid lake, just past the majority of campsites, I pause to take in its splendor. The lake sits at the base of Chair Mountain, and at the far end of the lake, there is still a large snowfield sitting at the bottom of the bowl of granite surrounding the far shoreline that touches the water’s edge, still feeding the lake with fresh snow melt. It’s amazing to me that at this relatively low elevation of 4016ft, and this late in the year, there would still be snow fields, especially as large as this one. I can only assume, given its name, that this is an annual occurrence. After my break, I leave the Snow Lake area, and continue along its shore, until the trail begins to head up once again, through small meadows like stair steps, small pockets of green that push back all the granite that is in large abundance here. You remain in the open along this high ridge along the lake, and it allows you to see across Snow Lake to Chair Peak, and the rugged region that you are heading up into. There are no shortages of talus fields here, and the trail will cut across several of them. Once you reach Gem Lake, you’ve reached your highpoint, at 4922ft.
This seems to be the destination for most people that head out on this trail, and who could blame them? The name given this lake is fitting. It’s perfectly shaped, and with the sun glinting off of its slightly rippled surface refracting sunlight with sparkling brilliance, it truly gives one the appearance of a finely cut gem. Trails run everywhere here along the banks of Gem Lake, and there are several areas to camp in. Walking through the small meadows towards the far west end of the lake, you’ll find a spectacular viewpoint across to the peaks on the other side of a steep valley, and the most prominent of them is Kaleetan Peak, another jagged, granite point piercing the sky. Also from this vantage point, you are now well above Snow lake below, and have sightlines all the way back to the saddle that you crossed over to first drop down into Snow Lake. You will want to take this small side trip to enjoy the impressive views. There are several trails running off towards the stony peaks, so they might be climber’s trails to scale them. I keep moving around the lip of the lake and after reaching the far shore, the trail climbs slightly up over another talus field, and then you’re over the top, and you find yourself winding downward steeply, switchbacking down a rocky hillside. Before the descent, you get a good look at what you’re about to drop down into. Wow, is this place rugged! Steep granite mountainsides with bony ridges and peaks, have dropped huge quantities of granite in rock landslides everywhere, partially filling the valley floor below you with massive flows of jumbled stone. Trees have difficulty growing on their steep flanks, leaving bare granite exposed, like bones bleached white from years of exposure to the elements. Down, down, down, the steep switchbacks, and I’m already dreading the climb back up…Once at the bottom, after crossing the massive granite boulder fields that lay piled up, the trail once again enters tree line, and skirts along the shores of Lower Wildcat lake. I begin to look for a campsite, for this was my original plan, to camp here along its shores. I’m dismayed to find almost nothing…Before I even get a first view of Lower Wildcat, I cross a stream under the forest canopy, and there is a spot that looks as if it has been camped in, the ground is flat here, and beaten down, as if tents have been set up here before. I make a note of it, but really don’t want to spend the night here, as it straddles the trail. Finally, the trail seems to peter out in a small clearing, and this seems to be the only site along the banks of the lake! Everything here is overgrown with brush, and you have to wade through it for about 30 feet before reaching the edge of the lake to get a good view. The lake is pretty nondescript, and all of its banks are encroached upon by woodland. I am disappointed, for this does not look like what I had hoped it would be. I’m surrounded by forest and brush, and this small site at what seems to be the end of the trail is not even level! As I’m pondering this most unsavory turn of events, a day hiker steps out of the brush from the other side of the outlet stream, and says hi. I had planned on setting up camp here, and then hiking up to see Upper Wildcat Lake, and so I asked him what the upper lake was like, if there was any place to camp. He assured me that the upper lake was not only more scenic, but there were more places to pitch a tent. Seems that there were already some people up there, but there might be other places to camp as well. Sure sounded like better options than I had right now, so I thanked him for the info, and crossed the outlet into deep huckleberry brush, following the faint trail that led up to Upper Wildcat. The map that I had did not show a trail up to the lake, but it is a relatively easy fisherman’s trail to follow. In only 20 minutes, I make the shoreline of Upper Wildcat Lake, and am overjoyed that I continued on! The first spot you reach when getting to the lake, is by far the best, with commanding views of the lake and surrounding ridgeline, dominated by Mount Roosevelt on the far shore. This site is on a knoll next to the outlet stream, and wide enough for several tents. Its occupied by a couple of guys that lugged in small inflatable rafts so that they could get out into the middle of the lake and fish, and they planned on staying until Monday, so I edged through their campsite, (the trails here seem to join one site to the next with the lakeshore trail), and made my way around the northern shore until I found a good campsite near the water, maybe only a 100 yards from this first place to camp. Above the place that I chose, on the connecting trail, was another campsite hidden in the trees, but I liked this one much better, as it was close to the water’s edge. I set up camp, and the 3 man tent that I brought, (yeah, I know it was overkill, but it’s all I have!), and looked around. There was a nice sandy beach here, even though it was narrow, it was still welcome, and the sand looked as if it extended into the water. There was some debris here close to shore, but not bad, so I took a dip to get clean. The water was cold, but bearable, so I was able to stay in it long enough to rinse off the day’s sweat and grime. Thankfully, there was still some heat left to the day, and I find a nice rock to sun myself on, letting the sun’s rays dry me and my wet clothes. Ahhh…Another nice feature to this lake is the way that it is protected here from the wind. You can hear it roaring across the treetops behind me, and see it swirling in the farther reaches of the lake, but here it’s only a gentle breeze, which allowed the sun’s rays to have some heat... Across the surface of the lake, I can see and hear the guys fishing from their rubber rafts. Near the southern shore line, is a small rocky island with some trees growing on it, almost looks large enough to camp on, if you could get to it by wading. I never ventured over there, though, as the day began to wane, and there was a couple staying somewhere over there, I could see them when they came to the lake’s edge to get water. The boat boys finally come back to shore, as it’s starting to get late, and I wander over to filter water from the outlet stream, and to say hi. That’s when I find out they are staying until Monday to fish. I thought it pretty industrious, to haul heavy inflatables this far in. They had some luck, one of them caught a nice trout that they had planned to have for dinner. Back at my camp, I also prepare my meal, take a few more pictures of the area, and sit down to relax, and watch the last of the day disappear over the sawtooth ridgeline above, retreating quickly as dusk, and then night take over. It’s then, after settling down, that I really notice my neighbors…Loudly…I usually bring my Zune so that I can listen to music during the evening, to give me some sense of companionship, and I could hear them over the music! They start a fire (something that shouldn’t be done here), and start talking boisterously about the day, loud enough that I can hear everything they’re saying. Part of me really didn’t mind, though. The glow from their fire was enough to cast dancing shadows across the trees of my campsite, and their enthusiastic conversation about the freeze dried ice cream sandwich and how it tasted, were enough to bring a wan smile to my lips. “Dude! Look! They even wrapped it like a real ice cream sandwich! Unreal, man!” You couldn’t help but grin, listening to their banter. Funny, even here, miles from civilized life, you can’t get away from the sounds of city life, or the feeling that you are surrounded by people. And here, I thought I was hiking alone…They were still going at it around 11:00pm, glad to have my Zune to help drown them out, so I could get to sleep. During the night, I wake up to find that my Camelbak had leaked again! This is the second time now, I’ve had it leak inside the tent, and get everything drenched in Gatorade! What a mess! This time, though, it doesn’t appear to be a catastrophic failure, probably due to the fact that David failed to properly screw the lid on tight…Curses!!! Thank goodness for spare clothes, for they serve as a mop…
Day 2 7.1 miles 1407ft gain/2517ft loss. The morning light proves to be good for picture taking, highlighting Mt. Roosevelt and the sawtoothed ridge line. Stowing gear, I make my way back down the faint trail to Lower Wildcat, then back up the steep switchbacks to Gem Lake. Again, the morning light proves to be wonderful for taking pictures of the lake and surrounding mountains, so I give my cameras a good workout. It’s now Saturday, and as I head down from the heights of Gem Lake, I begin to run into people. Lots of people, and most in groups of 3 to 5 it seems like. The dayhikers you see first, since they’re travelling light, and then more and more backpackers, straining under their heavier loads. They keep asking about Gem Lake, and if there are still places to camp. It’s easy to tell the first groups that there shouldn’t be a problem, but after a while I lose count, and try to not be too disappointing, however, I’m thinking that there will be those that are going to have a difficult time finding a place to pitch a tent, especially some of the larger groups….That’s a long way to hike to get blown out, simply because there’s no where left to stay…Amazing! I’m glad that I chose to come in on Friday…By the time I reach Snow Lake again, the trails are thick with day hikers, I mean hordes of people! It’s astounding to me just how many people there are! After reaching the far side of the lake, and starting up to the saddle, I feel that I’ve passed about 200 people! One small complaint here…If you’re heading uphill, (which I was), and carrying an obviously heavier load, (which I was), it’s a common courtesy to yield to the traveler heading uphill…Seems that for the most part, the day hiker crowd fall into the mentality of travelling a city sidewalk….5 hours later, from my lakeside camp, I’ve made it back to the car and the now filled to capacity parking lot. It feels good to shed the gear, and find the nearest burger joint to satisfy that craving for a post hike burger fest. It was a great hike, filled with inspiring sights, and big views and Gem Lake in itself would be a worthy overnight hike, especially if you used it for a base camp to explore some of the trails that lead towards the peaks to the west. Just make sure you get there early, to secure a spot, and I would heartily recommend going during the week…Also, I would imagine that someday soon, they are going to have to do something about the crowds that head there, for there are trails running all over the place that will eventually meld into one, turning the area into barren dirt, instead of grassy meadows. A beautiful hike in close, that does well to represent the Alpine Lakes Wilderness area.

First views along the trail, from talus field openings

Beautiful Snow Lake, from trail near the saddle.

Views from mid lake, looking towards the snow field.

Reflections on a still pool, near Lower Wildcat Lake

Unremarkable Lower Wildcat Lake.

Mirror finish on Upper Wildcat Lake, Mt. Roosevelt in the distance.

 The views from the steep switchbacks beyond Gem Lake

More jagged peaks as seen from the trail, Kaleetan Peak to the left.

Gem Lake, with Kaleetan Peak in the middle distance.

From the viewpoint near Gem Lake, towards Kaleetan Peak.

Kaleetan Peak.

Looking over Snow Lake from trail near Gem Lake

Final Views of Snow Lake

This trip is in two pieces not because that’s how long it took me to finally reach the top, but because the first attempt was unsuccessful…You just never know until you try how the weather is going to cooperate.
Day 1. For my first attempt on the 3^rd and 4^th, I wanted to try something that I had never done before, and that was spend the night on the side of a mountain, and get up early for an alpine start. Not only would it be something different, but I also thought of it as training for future mountains. That and it would help to break up the total elevation gain for one day since the gain from the parking lot to the top is 6600 ft... So, I packed up, and prepared myself as we had for climbing Mt. Rainier, again, not knowing what to expect. It was a 3.5 hour drive over some pretty rough roads, (11 of them on gravel, over FSR 23) to get to Trout Lake, the town that sits at the base of Mt. Adams, and where the ranger station is. After stopping at the ranger station, and getting my Cascades Volcano climbing permit, a “blue bag”, and last minute maps and information, I headed for the South Summit climb trail head, at Cold Springs Camp. By the time I drove to the trailhead from Trout Lake, it was already 3:30pm, and I was concerned that I would not have enough time to get up to Lunch Counter, a flat spot on the side of Mt. Adams, around the 9000ft mark, a popular staging area for climbers that wanted to get an alpine start only 3000ft below the summit. After parking, I began the gradual switch backs on a trail that looked as if at one time it was a road, for it was wide with a dual set of ruts. It climbed gradually through the trees, and at about the 2.08 mile mark, the trees give way to volcanic rock and sand, highlighted occasionally by scrub trees hanging on tenaciously to what little ground they can root in. It’s here that the trail drops down into a wash, crosses little Morrison Creek (that only flows if there is glacier melt) and then begins its uphill in earnest, the trail connects large rock cairns with a post sticking out of the top to mark the way. The climbers trail is faint, but traceable, as it weaves its way constantly upward, and at the 2.7 mile mark, and 7400ft, you start up a ridgeline, through the last of the scrub trees, towards the snout of Crescent Glacier, which you can now see cascading down through the volcanic rock, water trickling from the very end. Once you clear the last of the trees, you begin to see little parapets of stone, in a crescent moon shape, to create a wind block for tent sites. All the time, the views are spectacular; you can see Mt Hood and Mt St. Helens in the distance, as well as miles and miles of forest and hills. On this day, there was also a forest fire burning far below me in the tree line, and it was marked by a huge plume of smoke, rising lazily into the calm air. I’m keeping an eye on my watch, for it seems that I am quickly going to run out of daylight, and with the heavy pack, I’m not making the time that I was hoping for. The late start is now starting to work against me, and I fear that I’m not going to make Lunch Counter. If only I had gotten an earlier start! I can’t worry about it now, and my biggest concern is to find a good spot with access to either snowfields, or if I’m lucky, a stream created by the melting snow. I keep passing the small stone castles that people have erected to block the wind, and hope that when it’s time for me to stop, I’ll find a good one to use. As I get higher in elevation, I notice that the wind is now blowing, and it’s getting colder. Now it’s 6:00pm, and I feel I can go no further without risking having to set up camp in the dark. I don’t want to do that, as I need to filter water for dinner. I’ve travelled about 3.15 miles up the side of the mountain, and find a good spot at the 8000ft mark, there are several stone walls with nice sandy flat areas behind them to set up camp, and I see a small stream still running from the heat of the day. By early morning, this little stream will be dried up, as the Crescent Glacier that feeds it freezes again during the night. This will be camp, and there is no one else around. The wind is now blowing steadily, and it fights me as I try to erect the tent, blowing it around like a discarded candy wrapper that the wind chases across an empty playground. I have to use rocks to secure the ground tarp, and after several minutes of struggling with the flapping shelter, I manage to get it put up. With that out of the way, I hurry to get water, enough for tonight and tomorrow, which means I have to fill the Camelbak as well. By the time I get all of that done, and cook my meal, its well after 7:00pm, and the sun is going down. From my vantage point here on the mountain, I get treated to a beautiful sunset, and a rainbow affect caused by the burning fire below. Once the night begins its turn, I can see distant lights twinkling below me; no doubt some of the pinpoints of light come from Trout Lake. I wonder if they know how lucky they are right now, to have a warm bed to go to, and I find myself strangely jealous of their cozy homes and sheltered, warm beds... The wind has now become more forceful, and I have all of my gear on to keep me warm, gloves included. At nine, I decide to get to bed, wanting an early start in the morning. I hope for better weather tomorrow…Inside the tent, the wind whips against the sidewalls, and causes the rainfly to beat against the sides like a tarp on a truck going 60 down the freeway. No matter what I did, I could not guy out the fly to keep it from its incessant flapping. This is a new tent, that I had purchased specifically for this trip, and I can tell you, once I get down from here, this is going straight back to the store. Not happy. All night, the wind beats at my little shelter, and even with my Zune planted in my ears, I never really get any sleep, because of the ruckus created by the wind.
Day 2. Why am I wet??? Oh, man…The Camelbak has leaked during the night, wetting down my sleeping bag, backpack, (which I drug into the tent), and sleeping pad. Beautiful…Just freakin’ beautiful…I sop up the mess with dirty clothes, and scramble out of the tent, not wanting to get wet to start my climb. It’s 4:00am, and still dark and windy, but I can see the top of the mountain, well, at least I can see where the top of the mountain should be, and its completely enshrouded in cloud cover…It’s relatively clear everywhere around me except for the summit…Not good. I’m a little disgusted, but determined to climb as far as I can, just in case it decides to clear later. By 5:00am, I begin up the last vestiges of trail climbing with my headlamp on. I have to pick my way up to the side of Crescent Glacier, and keep it on my right shoulder, as the map that I have shows the way up keeping left of it. It’s a tedious process in the dark, amidst shifting volcanic rock that litters the area. I want to keep a close eye on where I put my feet, otherwise, I risk turning an ankle, not something that I want to do now. As I approach the 9000ft mark, I look to my right across the glacier, and I can see other headlamps bobbing in the early morning amidst the rolls of rock, disembodied lights moving to and fro down towards my location, a flat spot here at the top of the glacier. By now, first light is beginning to play across the landscape, and it affirms my fears that the weather is not getting better, but worse. The clouds are still dense, and I can’t see the top of the mountain, and to top it off, it’s starting to rain. Lightly, but still enough to get everything wet. I wait until the owners of the headlamps reach my location, and ask them if they still plan on going up. Yes, they reply, and I tell them that I’ve decided to head back down. I don’t want to climb a mountain in white out conditions, and it doesn’t appear that the conditions are going to change, so I head downslope. Of course, I’m discouraged, but figure there will be another day. The light of day makes for easier travel back to camp, with the rain still coming down lightly; I pack wet gear into my backpack and head for the car. All along the way back, I’m noticing how everyone else is dressed for summit day. Most are not wearing mountaineering boots, and several have shorts on! I brought my parka, climbing pants, helmet, crampons, ice ax, boots, etc. to the show, and I feel grossly overdressed! I make a mental note, that when I come back again, I will be outfitted differently. The entire time these last two days that I spent on Mt. Adams, I’ve not seen any snow, only lava rock and sand. True, there are the glaciers, but if you travel to the sides, you don’t even need crampons! Back to the car, I stow my gear, and head for home. Dissapointed? Sure…But, I vow to come back again, and this time, better prepared. I’ve had my experience of camping on the side of the mountain, and….Next time, I will start from the Cold Springs Camp, in hopes of getting some sleep, not listening to the howling wind…
September 20,21, 2009
So, is this day three, or day one? I consider it day 3, but it really is a new beginning. Now, I feel a little more informed about what to expect, and I plan accordingly. This time, it will be much lighter gear, and I leave the mountaineering boots, crampons, helmet, etc. at home. And, the blasted tent that caused me so much grief last time. That went right back to REI as soon as I was able to get to the store. Anywathis trip would be different. Even the route would be different…I drove down I-5 all the way to Vancouver, and cut over on the Lewis and Clark highway…That took over 4 hours to get to Trout Lake!!! Won’t be doing that again, either. Once at Trout Lake Ranger station, I self registered, paid my climbing fee again, and took off down a now slightly familiar road to Cold Springs Camp. Since I was coming in on a Sunday, the place was jammed full with cars, so obviously there were many climbers here to take advantage of the good weather. The report calls for clear skies again tomorrow, as well, and I’m hopeful that this will be my chance to summit. I brought my car camping gear and an old tent that we’ve had for years, a nice big twin air mattress (boy, if I could only figure out how to get THAT into the backcountry without a pack mule), and my Smokey Joe. Yep! Tonight I would dine on steak! I figure, hey, if I’m going to camp out of my car the first night, I’m gonna get a good meal under my belt, for that’s a long uphill trudge to the top! After a satisfying meal, I plop myself down next to a warm fire, to fend off the night air, for its gotten cold, near 33 degrees. I’m in bed once again, by 9:00pm, wanting to get an early start in the morning. After I had finished dinner, the groups of climbers came strolling back into camp, group by group, talking and laughing about their climb. Even after dark fell, they still came in, and from my tent, I could hear their conversations, and see their headlights as the tires crunched gravel out of the parking lot. I wondered if I would be as happy when I returned. Slowly, I drift off to sleep, with some anxiety for the morning.
Day 2, (or is it day 4?) 6676ft elevation gain/loss, 12.76 miles. By 4:00am, I’m up, dressed and having a cup of joe. By 5:00am, I’m on the trail, with headlamp blazing. A group of 3 kids had started out before me, having arrived by car at around 4:30 this morning. I was the only one that had camped here last night, and most of the cars were now gone from the day before. I passed them about 30 minutes later, and did not see them again except for their headlamps through the darkness once I started climbing the ridgeline above Morrison Creek. The creek this time had no water, as the night temperatures had no doubt frozen the glacier once more.  Up, and up I went, this time with a much lighter load. It was still dark when I reached the 8000ft mark, and was able to see where I had spent the night a few weeks previously. That seemed like such a long time ago…Finally, just as the day approached, bringing with it more brilliant crimsons to paint the sky with, I reached the flat area at 9000ft, where I had turned around before. From here on, everything would be different now, and I could feel my stomach rolling, with twinges of apprehension, and nerves I suppose…Is it possible I’m also feeling the slight symptoms of altitude? It’s possible, but I try to ignore all of this, and instead concentrate on the task at hand, namely, making sure I pick the right line up the mountain. I don’t want to have to backtrack. The map I was using was a route that I had found on SummitPost.org, and then traced it as best I could into a track file for my GPS unit, and it showed a route that basically just went straight up, staying far left of Suksdorf ridge, and the glaciers on its western side. Since I don’t have crampons, I stay off of the snow/ice fields, and stay in the boulders to the left. Within an hour, as I’m struggling over the volcanic boulder fields, I begin to doubt my choice of direction. I can look up, and see the ridge line above me, and it’s obvious that I’m heading in the right direction, but this no longer seems safe. The angle has now grown steeper, it has to be around 30 degrees or more, and some of the footstool sized boulders are beginning to shift under my feet, causing me to come to a dead stop. I look up slope, and am dismayed to see a whole field of boulders perched one atop another like some jumbled orange display at the local market. Pull the wrong one out, and you’ll be pickin’ them all up off the floor, while the disgruntled shop keep calls for cleanup on isle catastrophe…Not good. My hands immediately begin to sweat, and I start looking around for a safe way to get off of this possible nightmare. I have to do some backtracking, but find a better route, and a safe way around this treacherous boulder field, and avert a cleanup crew being called out…Once on the ridge, I can see several other climbers ahead of me, they must have spent the night somewhere on the mountain, but I don’t remember seeing a campsite. Perhaps they were at Lunch counter? I can now see far below me, and no longer am able to discern the 3 that I had passed earlier in the dark. Had they given up, and turned around? Perhaps they needed to wait for daylight, to y, see the trail better. I know that might have entered my way of thinking, if I had not already been here once before, and knew what to expect…Above me the other group had ventured out onto the glacier on Suksdorf ridge, and it appeared they were moving very slowly. In places, the glacier undulates, creating a steep bank, like a frozen wave just looking to punish you, if you weren’t paying attention. I decide to stay off of the ice, and only cross it in places where I can cut across at a less severe angle. Still being cold, the surface is frozen, and the sun has not melted it yet, so it provides some “stiction”…Back and forth, you can see a weaving uphill trail worn into the much smaller sized volcanic rock, and sand. Your foot sinks in here, and its take two steps forward, and one back most of the way now to the false summit, an outcropping that by now is blocking the top of the mountain. It sits at the western edge of Piker’s Peak, a true false summit at 11,667ft. The last 30 or 40 feet to the outcropping is steep, and the ground shifts around your feet, but it is worth stopping here for a few minutes to admire the view. At this point, you are now at 11, 520ft, within striking distance from the top! You can see all the way south to Mt. Hood, and it was clear enough today to see Mt. Jefferson, peeking out from behind Mt. Hood. Mt. St. Helens is also visible here, as well as the top of Mt. Adams. By now, it’s just a little after 9:00am, and I feel that I’m making good time. Up and over Piker’s Peak, and across the frozen snowfield here in the saddle. As I approach the final ascent, I begin to smell sulfur, and it’s strong. I look around to see if there are any vents here, but I don’t see any. Above me, I still see the other group, making their way to the top. Right at 11:00am, I reach the cabin perched on the top, and see the other group there, taking their hero shots. We are the only ones here, and as I approach them, they shout hello, for it is windy and cold here, and I’m surprised that as I respond, I’m only able to croak out a few syllables that sound like hello, in return. My voice is almost completely gone, and sounds instead like that of a toad…I offer to take their pictures, and learn that they had camped near Lunch counter last night. They seemed somewhat surprised to learn that I had left from the parking lot this morning. Thankfully, they also took my picture at the top, not sure if the wind would allow me to set up my tripod without tipping the camera over. It’s only about 38 degrees up here, and with the wind whipping, it feels much colder. They say their goodbyes and head down, but I decide to stay for a bit, exploring the top here, and making sure that I walk over to the USGS elevation marker, the true summit. There is a memorial here at the cabin , a young man from Wilsonville, Oregon.  Now, I can also see Mt. Rainier from here, and am overjoyed that the weather is clear, so I take pictures till my heart’s content. A little lunch, and I leave the highpoint, and follow the other group down slope. Once I approach the first little false summit, I am able to see a different route down, a zigzag climbers trail etched into the ridgeline below me. Funny how a different perspective allows you to see something different…I decide to follow this new path way down, it looks eminently safer than the route I took up, and its here that I run into the 3 people that I first saw at camp. One of them is wearing hard plastic boots, like ski boots! I try and encourage them by pointing to the rock outcropping, and telling them that once you reach that, it’s a piece of cake! I get a frustrated look from the guy wearing the plastic boots, and when I pass him, I hear him mumble under his breath how he doesn’t think anything about this has been a cake walk…It’s at that point, that I realize I might indeed be enjoying some of the lightheartedness I noticed from the other climbers yesterday at camp. My mood does not seem nearly as dark as plastic bootie man….I am glad that I chose to come down this way, for not only is the climb less severe, (easy for me to say as I’m going down), but the views here are awesome! I am looking at the Klickitat Glacier now, and its huge, monolithic blocks of ice hanging haphazardly from the face of the glacier, as it continues its slow motion cascade down the slopes. The frozen blue water from deep ice is visible in the cracks and a stark contrast to the blacks and reds of volcanic rock. From here, I’m able to look East, down into the valley that the glacier has carved between two ridgelines, the Battlement Ridge north, and the Ridge of Wonders to the south. The trail here finally ends at the flat area known as Lunch counter, and there are several of the wind breaks made of stone here, that will shelter many tents. The heat of the day is now beginning to melt the glacier, and several rivulets of water are now cascading off of the Suksdorf ridge snow field, that must be crossed to getback to the other side, the flat where I was first stopped last time I made an attempt. Here I pass a few of the guys that were with me on top, and now that I’m on familiar ground once again, I continue my headlong plunge down the mountain to base camp. Near the 8000ft mark, near a cluster of rock windbreaks, I spy a snowboard that someone has jettisoned. Guess they decide that boarding over a volcanic flow doesn’t seem to be what they had in mind… By 3:00pm, I’m back to Cold Springs camp, overjoyed that I have made it to the top! I hurriedly pack, for now it’s Monday, and I must go to work tonight…No matter, I’m sure the euphoria of having bagged another mountain, will go a long ways towards giving me the energy necessary to get through the night.

First wide open views of Mt. Adams from the trail.

Mt. Hood, as seen from the trail to Mt. Adams.

Large Rock Cairns mark the way...

Camp at 8000ft mark, facing Mt. St. Helens in the distance...

Beautiful sunsets await those on the flanks of Mt. Adams.

Early morning reveals a storm brewing on top of Mt. Adams.

Looking back towards Mt. Hood, a rainbow is formed in the early light.

Base camp at Cold Springs Campground

First light on Mt. Adams, casts a pink glow

Looking down and back the direction I came up

The Summit. Can barely make out the cabin at the top.

Pikers Peak, and it’s glacier

The way to the top is on the ridge left of the glacier

Miner’s cabin? at the top of Mt. Adams

Made it! Mt. Rainier in the distance.

More glacier ice on the way back down, above Lunch Counter somewhere...

The Moonscape at Lunch Counter

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This is a great dayhike that will encompass some of the best the Sunrise trail system has to offer. It covers 6.2 miles, and at the halfway point, you will have gained a little over 1000ft, making it a moderate hike up to the high point at 7400ft. The parking lot at Sunrise is already at 6400ft.
You’ll start at the very southwest corner of the Sunrise Parking lot, near the Sunrise Ranger Station, which reminds one of an old cavalry fort’s blockhouses. On this weekend, it was the last weekend for the summer, and they would close the gate for Sunrise for the year, so everything was boarded up, in preparation for the coming winter... From the trailhead, you walk down to the Sunrise access road ( a gravel road for service vehicles) and follow it for about .35 miles to where the road branches in a “Y”. Stay to the left, and follow the signage to Shadow Lake. The road leads gradually downhill through alpine meadows and views southwest to Mt. Rainier, which dominates the views here at Sunrise. The road ends, and you will come to a trail junction, at .9 miles, with signs and mileage to different destinations in the park. For this loop trail, stay to the left, and follow the signs to Shadow Lake and Sunrise Camp. The camp is at about the 1 mile mark from the parking lot, and it is a large backcountry camp, with several campsites and a covered shelter, good for groups. Just past the last campsite, you’ll come to another trail junction. Stay right, and from here you will be going uphill to the first great view area, the Emmons Glacier overlook, in about a half mile. From this viewpoint, on a clear day, you will spend several minutes, taking it all in. The mountain looms large here, and you can make out all the distinguishing features, little Tahoma, the massive Emmons Glacier, the largest on the mountain, and Steamboat Prow, a triangular formation of rock that divides the Emmons and Winthrop Glacier. Somewhere, just above it, is Camp Sherman, the base camp for summiting from this side of the mountain. Below you, stretching out for miles is a small ribbon winding down from the snout of the Emmons Glacier, the headwaters of the White River. Continue up the trail that side hills along the ridge to the top of the first Burroughs Mountain, the top which is flat like a table top at 2.4 miles in. Again, the views from here are impressive, not only towards the mountain, but as you near the edge of Burroughs Mountain, you can see for miles and miles in every direction, looking north you’ll see Berkeley Park nestled between Skyscraper and Fremont mountains. Just to the left of Skyscraper, you’ll see Skyscraper Pass, which the Wonderland Trail crosses over. Beyond Skyscraper Pass, Old Desolate is visible, with long furrows leading vertically down its side, as if a large bear claw raked it from top to bottom. You’re not done yet! At the edge of the first Burroughs Mt, at 2.7 miles, you’ll come to another trail junction. Stay left, and continue uphill to the top of the second Burroughs. Now, at 7400ft, and a little over 3 miles in, you’ve come to your turnaround point at the very tip of the second Burroughs Mountain. There are several places here to stop and relax, sitting on rocks that keep you off the ground, but the best place is a round throne built out of the local rock, facing directly at the mountain. It provides some protection from the wind, which seems to be constant here on top of exposed and barren Burroughs Mt. The trail continues here to Glacier Basin, and further on, the East side climbing camp, Camp Schurman, base camp for climbing this side of Mt. Rainier. But, for this day hike, this will be the turnaround spot. Retrace your steps to the last trail junction, and instead of going back the way you came, this time stay straight on the trail, and follow it down the other side of Burroughs Mt, to a 4 way trail junction at 4.65 miles. This is where you will once again cross paths with the storied Wonderland Trail that encircles Mt. Rainier. Trails lead in every direction from here, including down into Berkeley Park, and up to the Mt. Fremont lookout atop Mt. Fremont, which you should be able to see from the trail that you just descended. At the 4 way intersection, continue straight through, following signage that says Sourdough Ridge Trail, and Frozen Lake, which you will come to in short order, if you’ve followed the right path. During the early part of the year, Frozen Lake has a nice ledge of ice and snow on its banks, but by the end of the hiking season, it’s not very impressive, just bare ground all around its edges…This is the fresh water source for all of Sunrise, so it is fenced off to keep people out. Continue along the Sourdough Ridge trail another 1.4 miles back to Sunrise, easily seen from the trail, as it leads back through the meadows surrounding the main facilities. If you don’t have a lot of time to visit, this is definitely a noteworthy hike, allowing you big views of the park, and all this area has to offer.

Sunrise Ranger station, boarded up for the winter

Glacier view vista, Mt. Rainier, Emmons Glacier, and the White River

Lenticular clouds form over Mt. Rainier

Big Views from the first Burroughs Mt., Towards Skyscraper Mt.

Sourdough Ridge Views across to Shadow Lake and surrounding meadows.

One more to go…This would make 10 hikes this year that I’ve submitted to Backpacker magazine and at the beginning of it all, it seemed like no big deal…A late season start, and midway through the 10, it seemed an insurmountable objective…But, here I am, the last one! Another day hike, but given its distance from the house, about 3.5 to 4 hours away, we decide to overnight close to the trailhead, and get an early start. I say we, because this time I don’t go alone, Sally will go with me, and we’ll spend the night at Buffalo Run Inn, at Marblemount. It’s still about an hour from the trailhead, but sure beats four!!! The room is very nice, and the food is great, I highly recommend the accommodations if you plan the same kind of trip. I know that I want to visit this area again, as the surrounding mountains are inspiring to be sure, very vertical and rugged, much different than the south Cascades closer to home.
I get an early start, wanting to be at the trailhead by 6:00am, so that I can hike the 6.5 miles, get back to the car, pick Sally up at Marblemount, and get home at a decent hour…First time I’ve ever gotten an “Alpine start” by car…I’m the first one at the parking lot at Rainy Pass, where the trailhead begins, and I note the temperature when I first get out of the car…19 degrees! Well, at least it’s not raining! The nice part about it being this cold is that instead of wringing sweat out of my shirts and hat, the hiking helps to keep me warm, and motivates you to keep moving. From all the data that I’ve been able to glean on this hike, it seems best to go counter-clockwise on this loop, up around the bowl surrounding Lake Ann, and then back down the other side, which seems steeper. You can go clockwise, of course, but that way, the beginning of the trail is constant switchbacks up to ridgeline, and not much to see to keep you entertained…I found the counterclockwise direction to be much more interesting for its constant visuals, as you escaped the tree line. Heading up from the parking lot, it begins through thick forest, and does a good job of gaining elevation on gradual switchbacks and well maintained trails, making it easy on the feet. Just over a mile in, there is a trail junction that veers left towards Lake Ann, the alpine lake that you will be circumnavigating on this loop, around the cirque that surrounds it. Another half mile later, and you leave the tree line, and get your first glimpses of the area. You are now on large talus fields, interspersed with alpine firs, all above Lake Ann below. The fall colors pop, as the red huckleberry brush at the distant edge of the bowl looks like a wildfire spreading up the slope, the high point of the opposite rim across Lake Ann is edged in golden larch, just now starting to catch the first rays of sun, causing them to blaze brilliantly against the first dustings of snow for the year. Beautiful! It urges me onward, as I desire to get to the higher rim, for the first views of distant peaks poke above the bowls edge, filling me with the desire to see what’s over the next rise…The trail continues upward at a moderate pace, not steep at all, and the whole time, you have clear sight lines to the rim and the now slowly receding Lake Ann, a perfect tear drop lake, with a small island near its center. At 2.2 miles, you come to a trail junction, near the top of the cirque, and this trail branches off across a small meadow in the gap, called Heather Pass. Stay straight past this junction, and a couple of short switchbacks bring you to an awesome viewpoint about 60 feet or so above the meadow here. Wow, is all I can say…The area is pretty worn down, from people stopping to admire the views, and who can blame them? From this vantage point, you now can see over the edge of the bowl, towards Black Peak, and the small lake that sits at its base, in another cirque, called Lewis Lake. Somewhere above it, lies another lake called Wing Lake. Larch ring the lakes edge here as well, mingled in with the alpine firs, creating golden flecks of color against the green. Black Peak is dominant and steep, no trees grow on its granite crusted flanks, and large talus fields lay around it, from centuries of erosion and gravity. Looking back the direction you came, you can see another massive ridgeline, with Whistler Mountain and Cutthroat Peak beyond Rainy Pass, where you parked your car. Also visible, near the base, is a line cut through the trees, which is the North Cascades highway, running alongside Granite Creek. It was difficult to tear my eyes away from the distant views here, but it was made easier by the fact that I knew there would be other enticing things to see once I reached the top, which now was close. The small pockets of meadows here are filled with huckleberries and speckled with Larch, which has now put on its fall show, the needles having all turned to gold. Highlighted by the suns’ rays, the needles glow as if they have an internal energy that is being radiated. I snap away with my camera, hoping desperately to be able to capture the light they seem to emit. Finally, I’m on the far edge of the bowl above Lake Ann, which looks tiny from the heights…From the top of the ridgeline here, there is another trail that leads down the other side into the Maple Creek drainage from this unnamed saddle. Again, the views are incredible! Across the valley floor below your vision is guided up, up, the steep face of Corteo Peak, looking every bit as if you were transported to the Alps, the striations in its rock face filled with snow, accentuating the lines that run horizontally across its face, like a furrowed brow. All the lines here are stark and fractured, leaving lines and edges that appeared like broken glass. In the distance to the right of Corteo Peak, you can still see the top half of Black Peak rising above the ridge that runs from this saddle to the right flank of Corteo Peak. Looking west/southwest from Corteo Peak, across the far distance, you can see several glaciated peaks all in row, part of the Glacier Peak Wilderness. I can only assume from the maps, that I’m now looking at Gunsight, Sinister, Dome, and Spire peaks. Totally amazing! Again, I find it hard to move, as I’m transfixed by what my eyes can hardly believe they’re seeing. With reluctance, I continue on. The trail  wanders everywhere here on top, as countless people have roamed about, trying to take it all in. A trail wandering here, to see over the edge down into Lake Ann, another here in an attempt to get a better view of the distant glaciated peaks, and still others that run to and fro, looking for the best place to see it all. Of course, the sheer number of little trails running everywhere leads one to the conclusion that there is no one best place. It is unfortunate, though, for the foot paths that lead everywhere/nowhere have beaten down a fair amount of the alpine tundra here, small meadows that have taken eons to grow atop the stark granite. The trail that runs the down the middle is the most heavily used, and is the main trail here. Up and over a few small rises, then climbing slightly once more to your last saddle at 6967ft, another high point at the edge of a ridgeline that leads to Frisco Mountain, to your right. Now, you can see all the way down towards Rainy Pass, and steep meadows filled with browning grass, the trail zigzagging back and forth across the slope. There is another small tarn below you, at the base of a snow field, also unnamed on the maps. Another step below that is Rainy Lake, and the waterfall that leaps off the ledge below to feed it. There is also more larch growing here, and would you believe it? I’ve given my camera such a workout that the battery has died. At least, I tell myself that, but in actuality, I’m sure it’s because it did not start with a full charge. As I head down slope towards the car, I begin to pass people, the first I’ve seen today. Usually in groups of 3 to 5, with dogs. We stop to chat every once in awhile, remarking on our good fortune to be able to see this on such a beautiful day. It’s sunny, of course, but still cold. The temperature never rises above 30 degrees the whole time, but hey, you know what? It was a dry cold, so it’s not so bad… At one point the ridgeline trail here becomes narrow, like walking on a knife’s edge, and from this place on the trail, you can see straight down into Rainy Lake below, and the waterfall above it. Although, today, because of the recent temperatures, it is now a giant icicle, frozen solid, hanging from the precipice that it runs off of. Won’t be long now, and the region will be covered in its winter blanket of snow. Back to the car, I load up, and I’m amazed that I have not ventured into this part of the state before. I’ve been missing so much! This hike has it all. 6.5 miles and only 2100ft of elevation gain. It’s a moderately easy day hike, with huge rewards. This part of the North Cascades is truly epic in spectacle, with impossibly steep granite peaks jutting into the sky at every angle. And, as you continue your upward trek, reaching ridgelines with incredible vistas, you think you’ve seen it all, until you reach the next ridge, or saddle. It’s hard to imagine that there can be so much to see, each view as spectacular as the last, all highlighted by fall foliage, sun lighting up the golden larch trees that are everywhere, surrounded by the deep purples and reds of huckleberry brush amidst white and dark granite, creating a landscape of otherworldly proportions. Then, in the midst of it all, plop a small scenic alpine lake complete with its own small island, and it makes it hard to take your eyes off of the visual feast of colors, shapes and vivid landscapes that seem to run on forever. I vow to come back, to wander again along trails that cut through the heart of such rugged beauty.

Lake Ann and her island, surrounded by granite cliffs and golden larch.

Huckleberry brush lines the bowl around Lake Ann, now scarlet red for fall.

Black Peak

Heather Pass below the Larch

From the top ridge line of the bowl, looking down into Lake Ann.

Distant glaciated peaks in the Glacier Peaks Wilderness

Corteo Peak, with Black Peak in the background.

Another view of Corteo Peak, rising above Maple Creek drainage

Trail along ridgeline, Corteo Peak and Black Peak still visible.

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