Rampart Lakes, Rachel Lake, July 16-18, 2010

Monte Cristo, Twin Lakes

Lost Lake, Echo Lake Loop

The season finally begins!!! After months of waiting, poring over maps, hoping the snow has finally melted out enough to travel into the backcountry, we set out on our first hike, which will take us once again into the Alpine Lakes Wilderness, this time to visit Rampart Lakes, sheltered at the base of Rampart Ridge.
Day 1 2361ft gain 4.6 miles. This hike begins at the trailhead to Rachel Lake, about 4 miles past the Kachess Lake campground, at a paved parking lot at the end of a dusty, bumpy, gravel road. Lots of parking here, which should be a good indication of how popular a place this is. The trailhead begins at about 2770ft elevation, and follows Box Canyon creek uphill gradually for about the first 2.6 miles. It’s an easy jaunt to begin with, a perfect way to start the season on untested legs. I’ve tried, to no avail, to reduce my pack weight, but Greg seems to have mastered it, getting his down to a svelte 35 lbs! I try not to let my jealously show, instead, I try to console myself with imagined reasons for why my pack, which I will now call Monkey, weighs so blamed much…Yeah, if only I didn’t have such gianormous shoes that weighed like boat anchors, I could get my pack weight down. And, if I didn’t have to wear such big clothes, that would make a difference, too! Yeah ! That’s right! And, if only I didn’t have to carry so much water, because I sweat so much, which would be an extra couple pounds I could shave! Amazing the excuses I could come up with…Refocusing on the trail, it was well maintained, and occasionally would wander over closer to lovely Box Canyon Creek, fresh snow melt cascading over large granite rocks, that make up 95% of the creek bottom, making for scenic little waterfalls everywhere, and the loudest of them cause the trail to make a detour, wandering closer, as if curiously wanting to see the source of the roar. It continues like this for the first 2. 6 miles, and finally crosses a creek that runs out of the Lila Lakes basin, creating another pretty waterfall, that one must stop and photograph…There are several small streams that run across the trail, feeding Box Canyon creek, but this one is more memorable than the others. The stream is larger, for one, and the gentle roar of falling water is attention getting…( can a roar be gentle? I think so!) From this point, the trail begins uphill more urgently, and the trail becomes rougher, with strategically placed roots and rocks. They are either helpful, by providing a perfect foothold to clamber up, or hurtful, when one is not looking at the trail, the roots tend to grasp your boot, and pitch you face first into the dirt. Sneaky. Watch out for them…Many times, the trail becomes more of a dry creek bed, or, if it’s still early season, they’re running with water, as we noticed. Still, it’s easy to follow, and over the next mile and a half to your high point at 5134 feet, it stays like this. Along the way, though, you’ll be greeted by Rachel Lake, a beautiful, large alpine lake, sparkling in the sun. Here, near the trail, are several campsites, and I’m sure the lake is fishable, as we can see them leaping out of the water. At just around 4 miles in, and this close to Snoqualmie Pass, you can see why it is so popular here. Close, and not a long hike in, a great way to spend a weekend, although possibly better during the week, as I’m sure this place gets crowded. Coming in on Friday, we didn’t see many people here at the lake. The trail continues uphill, needing to crest the ridge that separates this lake from the upper Rampart Lakes. Reaching the top of the ridge, the snow is more frequent, and by the time we are on top, the snow is several feet deep, covering the ground. Several footprints lead off in the direction that we need to go, so we follow them, and it’s not long before the trees thin out, and we get our first glimpses of Rampart Lakes. The snow is only patchy now, as it can no longer hide from the sun in the trees. Beautiful! The lakes here are small, but large in pure beautiful impact. The lakes are cut into solid granite, crystal blue pools of pure water, at varying heights from one another, creating steps, so only from the high point can you see them all at once. From the lowest level, looking up, all you see is rock. So, as you journey higher, you are pleasantly surprised to see one reflecting pool after the other, each one as pretty as the last. Small alpine firs grow wherever their roots can gain ground and sustenance, many times looking as if they are rooted in nothing but rock, and wizened, like little Yoda trees, full of wisdom that only their long years could achieve. The short growing season, and harsh winters have kept them stunted, like Bonsai. Those that were more fortunate, and found soil, grew to more normal heights, and also add to the serene landscape. The lakes sit at the base of Rampart Ridge, a jagged crest that rises another 700ft in the background, and this time of year, snow still is draped across the top, and down the sides. Truly spectacular country, and in the midst of it all, we find the premo camping spot! Right on the banks of the middle lake, its small outlet stream rushes by, and turns into a waterfall feeding the lower lake. Another perk for getting here before everyone else! After setting up camp, we are deafened by the roar of jet engines, as two fighter jets come screaming up the valley, and cut over the notch by Box Mountain! They are so loud you can’t hear yourself think!
By 5:30, we notice another phenomenon that seems to be as much a part of the Alpine Lakes, as the profuse water. The wind. Like clockwork, it shows up, and it’s not only blustery, it’s cold! By dinner time around 6:30, Greg and I have pretty much every stitch of clothing that we brought with us on. When the wind died down, it wasn’t too bad, but those were short intervals. We make sure that the tent is firmly attached to the ground, not wanting a dunking in the ice cold water in the middle of the night. After dinner, we find a couple of trees to shelter us from the relentless wind, and hunker down, admiring the scenery, until it’s time to turn in.
Day 2 1544ft gain/loss 4.9 miles. Ahhh…the sun in the morning after a cold night, listening to the wind screech, and bellow, is a welcome sigh. After breakfast, we take full advantage of the morning light, and wander about the place taking pictures of everything. It’s like an addiction, once you start, it seems hard to stop. Did I take a picture of this already? That, and all the other doubts that seem to creep in, because you just don’t want to miss getting that right picture. Finally satisfied, we pack light, and leave our campsite to head for Alta Mt. and Lila Lakes. Alta Mt. is a walk up, but is one of the high points in the area, so we want to get above it all, and see what there is to see. You climb its ridgeline all the way to the top and every couple hundred feet or so, reveals new things! Wow! Once we get higher than Rampart Ridge, we can see unobstructed views of Mt. Rainier, and Mt. Adams in the distance! Incredible! Then all the other surrounding mountains seem to shrink as we climb higher. Once on top, we have spectacular 360 degree views of the area. Now, we are high above the Lila Lakes basin, many of the small tarns are still snow covered, but the two largest lakes are sparkling in the sun, sitting in a bowl below HiBox mountain. To our northwest, we see Alaska Mountain, and at its base, its namesake lake. North, to Chikamin peaks, and the Four Brothers. West, lies Kendall peak, and from the west to the east, all along the faces of the surrounding peaks, we can see traces of the PCT, winding itself around. Looking south,  we can see Mt. Rainier, and Mt. Adams, and the Snoqualmie ski resort, with I-90 a gleaming ribbon winding through the landscape, and around the shores of Lake Kachess. So many features, we spend a half hour on top, marveling at the view.
Time to move on, we want to see the Lila Lakes. There are still large snow fields everywhere, and from our high perch, we spy out a possible route down into the Lila Lakes basin, that will help us avoid going back down to the trail junction, and then walk back up to the lakes. We’re able to make it, its’ steep, but with the snow strategically placed, we’re able to make it down this side of the mountain. I don’t think I would want to try it without the snow, as it is steep. We use the few trees in the steepest section as handholds, to stop us from careening out of control down the mountain side. It’s a different perspective once in the lake basin. The upper lakes are still hidden under the snow, the only indication that there is a lake underneath, is where the surface of the snow has finally succumbed to the water below, the surface cracking like a chick trying to escape it’s egg, revealing the turquoise blue of icy water beneath. HiBox Mountain rises steeply above the lake basin, looking insurmountable with its sheer walls that taper off like castle ramparts in either direction, cutting off the views to the north. The tops are jagged, and form a dramatic skyline, and in two places, there are rocks that look every bit as menacing as two large shark fins. Both menacing and beautiful at the same time, this basin is rugged eye candy. We move down to the lower lakes, Lila lakes, stomping through snow, making our own trail once more. Once we finally reach the lakes, we are again amazed at how perfectly shaped they seem to be. Is it possible that an area can boast so many treasures in such a small area? The largest of the two is azure blue, a little deeper than its sister, and on the western shore, there are two waterfalls that spill into the lake, feeding it snow melt. Its picture perfect, and hard to describe, as the water rushes down slope, hits a flat, then pours unhindered over sloping granite walls into the lake. Indescribable...We take many pictures, hoping that at least one will attempt to capture what it looks like here…We linger, not wanting to take our eyes off this place, and we find a perfect place to perch on the granite slab above the waterfall, enjoying its cool spray that blows back towards us. A perfect way to spend lunch, lazing on the shores of Lila Lake. Reluctantly, we leave, and head back towards camp at Rampart lakes.
As we approach our campsite, we are greeted by laughter, and many voices. It appears that we will have company. We round the bend, and there are three women sunbathing on the rocks. After spending the night before virtually alone here, it seems odd to come back to a place that is now teeming with folks, I’m guessing there are close to 35 people here at Rampart lakes now, and all the available campsites are full. In fact, there is a group of 4 that keep circling the lakes, looking for that right place to set up camp, free of snow. Greg and I want nothing else right now except to get clean, so we wander over to the smallest of the lakes here, only about 6 or 7 feet deep, hoping for it to be the warmest of the bunch. The water temp is a balmy 50 degrees, or so, and we take the plunge. Greg is sure that his toes froze off the instant he hit the water, and my muscles cramped so bad, I thought that I may be permanently disfigured into the incredible hulk pose, you know the one, where he stands there roaring, with his arms flexed and fists clenched, pumping up his pecs…Yeah, well, that’s how it felt after hitting the water, everything just locked up. Try getting out of a rock rimmed lake, when your body is doing its best imitation of Lou Ferrigno!!! That was some cooooooold water. Undeterred, though, we jump back in, and this time spend a little time trying to wash off the trail grime and sweat as quickly as possible, before becoming the latest ice bergs to ply the waters…After sunning ourselves dry on the rocks, we return to camp, and prepare our latest feast. Tired of standard trail fare, (I.e., freeze dried meals in a bag), we decide this year’s gonna be different. We find delectable recipes from magazines, and just wandering the local supermarkets, finding fare that is both palatable and light weight. Greg prepares a feast of noodles, with chicken and mashed potatoes!!! It’s awesome, and tastes so much better than the stuff that we’ve been eating for the last few years. I know that I now look forward to dinners, wondering what new recipe that we are going to try out on one another. Here is a sample of what our dinner is now:
Serves 2 Click here for recipe and downloadable link!

1 Knorr Pasta sides, Butter and Herb ( Fettuccini in a Delicate butter and Herb sauce. No lie! Their words, not mine…) 4.4 oz serving, serves 2 diminutive appetites…

1 foil chunk chicken 7oz, by Kroger.

1 Idahoan Roasted Garlic mashed potatoes, 4 oz. YUM!

The noodles boil in 7 minutes, per directions, and this is pretty accurate. We take two Jetboil stoves, so while the noodles are cooking, we boil 2 cups water in the other stove, and put the mashed potatoes into a gallon zip lock bag, doubled up, and after the water reaches a boil, pour the hot water into the bag and stir. Once stirred up, you can seal the bag, and it will stay hot for several minutes. Right before the noodles are done, or even during, your choice, pour the chicken chunks into the pan with the noodles, and after about 7 to 10 minutes, they’re done! If your time it right, you have hot noodles and chicken with mashed potatoes!!!
The whole meal is usually cooked in 10 minutes, or so, and you can serve it with crackers, or bread, if you brought it. It’s a delicious alternative to freeze dried meals, and we’ll never go back. True, the extra pots and pans are heavier, and there is a bit of clean up afterwards, but…After a long day on the trail, I actually look forward to meals now. There’s no going back, and if you use your imagination, I’m sure you can come up with other tasty alternatives! Look into it, Knorr has all kinds of “instant” meals, and they don’t weigh any more than the freeze dried meals. There are Asian sides, as well as rice, too!!
I may have to stop the narrative here…I’m hungry now…
Day turns to night, and true to form, the wind begins to howl right around dinner time, and I’m left to chase after whatever the wind decides to pick up and throw. After dinner, it’s time to turn in, and we hunker down in the tent from the wind, that howls relentlessly through the night. On more than one occasion, the sides of the tent get pushed down into Greg’s face, as he is on the windward side, and he gets peppered with sand and grit that the gusts blow under the rain fly and through the netting.
Day 3 2361ft loss 4.6 miles. The day is clear as we get up, and the morning sun provides us with great opportunities to get some more good pictures of the area. Packing up, we head back down to the truck, an uneventful return trip. So much beauty here to see, it’s hard to describe everything that we were able to see on this trip. My only hope is that the pictures do some small justice to the lakes and mountain views that seem so other worldly, yet so close to home. You owe it to yourself to at least take a day trip to Rampart lakes, to see for yourself that which I have so much trouble accurately describing.

Rachel Lake

Campsite at Rampart lakes

Rampart lakes

More Rampart Lakes

Looking back towards Box Ridge

Rampart Lakes “Potholes”

Greg stops to survey all...Mt. Rainier in the distance.

Mt. Rainier, Kachess Lake, and Snoqualmie Ski Resort.

Alaska Mountain, and it’s attendant, Alaska Lake

Chikamin Ridge, and the Four Brothers, as seen from the top of Alta Mt.

Jagged ridgeline along Box Ridge

Lila Lakes

Waterfalls on Lila Lake

Hibox Mt. rises above Lila Lakes

Another great weekend for weather! Forecasts call for sunny and warm, and that’s perfect for our 3 day on the Wonderland trail. This trek will be a through hike, as we’ve parked cars at either end of the route, and it will cover approximately 15.5 miles. Roughly. I say that, because that’s not counting the endless wandering that we did, and the fact that most of the trip was spent slogging through snow, which seems to take more effort and time.
Day 1. 4.3 miles, 2186ft elevation gain. Brian Sunderland will join us on this trip, so the 3 of us start at the trailhead at Fryingpan Creek, after driving around to the other side to drop off our return ride. A good start, as the trail is a gradual uphill through old growth forest along Fryingpan Creek, with an occasional waterfall to entertain us, and a quick glimpse here and there of the rugged terrain ahead. Once at the Fryingpan creek footbridge, the going gets steeper, but the pain of that is lessened by the sky filling outline of Mt. Rainier ahead of us. In the cloudless sky, the white glacier cap radiates brilliance like a beacon from a lighthouse on a dark night. You can’t stare at it for long without it hurting your eyes, even though you find your eyes wandering back towards it, such is it’s magnetic appeal…Here the meadows start to fill with snow, and by the time we start the final switchbacks up to Summerland, we are now crossing larger and larger snowfields. Once on top, the normally flower filled meadows of Summerland now look like Winterland, as the fields lay under large banks and drifts of snow, only occasionally peeking out from under the white blanket here and there. Even with the snow, the place is still gorgeous, with awe inspiring views of the Mountain. We continue to the camp, to see if we can find a spot where there is no snow and are relieved to find the best spot completely bare and dry! We set up camp, and then start wandering about, making a quick trip over to the shelter, and are amazed to find that we are the only ones here. I look at my watch and am stunned to see that it is still before noon! No wonder no one else is here…Now, what are we going to do for the next 5 or 6 hours??? I’m all for lazing around in camp, but, that amount of time on our hands, we might as well do something. As we’re looking around, it’s amazing to see the amount of snow still here. The slopes of Meany Crest that hold back the leading edges of the Fryingpan Glacier, are still draped in deep snow. In fact, the snow fields ascend from Summerland, to the base of the crest, and all along the steep slopes towards Mt. Rainier and Little Tahoma. From Summerland, looking west towards the mountain, there are several ridges that lie between us and the edges of the Emmons Glacier, the most massive of all the glaciers on Mt. Rainier, so we decide to take a little jaunt across the snow fields and small ridges to see what we can see…After all, you can see where a skier has left long graceful swoops on the untrammeled snow, after he gained a high point just shy of the leading edges of Fryingpan Glacier, so it beckons us to investigate further…packing lightly, we head uphill across the snow covered expanse, gaining one ridgeline, then another, each one allowing us greater views, till finally it seems that if we can get to that last one, we might finally be able to have a clearer, more unobstructed view of the mountain. From the ridge that we currently occupy, to the next, though, looks a bit more daunting, as the slope here is steeper than the last few. It forms a wide bowl, and the small streams of melting snow and ice have left depressions in the snow that look best to be avoided…Therefore, the best route will be to stay closer to the top of the bowl, but below where many rocks and chunks of snow and ice have skidded to a stop after falling from the crest above. At points, it seems that the incline must be 40 degrees or more, and we have to take care kick-stepping across the surface. Almost to the desired ridge, I get the chance to practice self arrest. One foothold gives way, and the next moment, I’m on my butt, sliding rapidly downhill. A quick flip over on my belly, and moments later, I come to a halt. Even though I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t have been hurt, as it was a loooong run-out here, it still puckered me up pretty good. Nothing like a quick burst of adrenaline to energize me for the last 100 yards, or so. Phew! But, what a view! We have gone from appx. 5990 feet at Summerland to just a little over 7000ft here below Fryingpan Glacier, and have a completely unobstructed view of Mt. Rainier! Little Tahoma now seems as if we could get there in an hour or less, and we can see every detail on the icy slopes before us. Across the now wide open divide, we can see the edges of the Emmons Glacier, and in the distance, the trails cut into the sides of Burroughs Mt. leading back to Sunrise. K spire is now dominant, and sticks up like a hitch hiker’s thumb, and several small waterfalls flow out of Fryingpan glacier. Impressive! We linger for awhile, and take lots of pictures, before continuing on. Even though it took me about 10 minutes before I was finally able to hold the camera steady again. Below us, at the end of this ridgeline, is a prominent rock that juts out above the beginnings of Fryingpan creek and overlooks the valley below, like a castle turret. We glissade in the snow below us, saving us some time walking, and providing some much needed cooling, as well! The views from here are also worth the effort to get here, and it’s also from this vantage point, that you can see up towards Panhandle gap. Well, at least you would have been able to, if not for the growing fog bank curdling down out of the gap, becoming thicker, and increasingly menacing as its tendrils reach further towards camp at Summerland. Time to go, we pick a slightly different route down towards camp, and all goes uneventfully. After filling water jugs, we return to camp, and there are now more people. 3 other groups have shown up, and we had a chance to watch one of the groups appear out of the fog that covered the route up to Panhandle gap. They used the shelter here, so we stopped by to ask what it was like over at Indian Bar. Lots of snow, they reported, just as we had feared, but they also told us that they had spent over an hour just this side of Panhandle Gap, for it was whiteout conditions up there, making it difficult to navigate. Luckily for them, the fog had not reached Summerland yet, so once they were below the fog line, they could see where they were. Doesn’t sound like fun. They had no GPS, only map and compass, but, without being able to see, that makes it very difficult to navigate. Hope we don’t face the same problem tomorrow! Back at camp, we set to making dinner, and just as in the last hike, we try a different recipe! This time, I attempt a meal that required bringing in several different veggies to chop up and stir in the hot rice dish, a recipe that I copied off the back of the box of 10 minute rice from “Success”. They package their rice in little plastic bags that fit perfectly into a Jetboil, and two bags make plenty for 3 or 4 people. The meal was called Greek Chicken and Rice Salad, and it was a welcome relief from the standard trail fare. Each time we try a different recipe that is successful; we’ll post it here in the trail report!! After the satisfying meal and cleanup was over, it was around 7:30pm, and the fog that had been menacing us, now completely engulfed us, we could see no further than the edges of camp. Occasionally, the wind would part it long enough for us to see the moon that was now almost full, and the fog seemed to ebb and flow in irregular patterns. Sometimes, we thought it would lift, and then it would fill back in. Perhaps tomorrow, this would burn off? A question only time would answer now, and we turn in.
Day 2 4.1 miles, 1039ft gain, 1865ft loss. Totally Awesome! After clambering out of the tent, we are greeted by a day of crystal blue skies, with no trace of the fog from last night! Perfect! Happy that we are going to have sunny skies and unhindered views, we pack up, and make for Panhandle Gap, our high point on the trail here at 6759ft. It’s a short slog through the deep snow at the base of Meany Crest, alongside a stream that you can hear thrashing against the rock underneath. On occasion, it rears its head, and the stream seems as if it is trying to escape in those brief moments it becomes unburied, water leaping skyward in spray and foam. Gravity has its way, though, and it disappears into the white void once again, the only clue that a stream is beneath you is the muffled roar of rushing water. This stream pours off the rock bluffs, and becomes a tributary to Frying pan creek later on down the hill…On the flat here, that gathers the waters of the stream, I remember standing here in 2005, and it was a desolate place, a moonscape, with small piles of glacier tailings, looking as if someone had meticulously placed them in perfect cone shaped piles. No more, as the floor here is also buried under snow, cascades of it draped on every rock face and slope. Totally amazing, hard to believe it’s almost the end of July. There in the middle, you can see a circular depression, with the blue familiar only with ice and water, that translucent light turquoise blue that signals its presence. As the snow field collapses in the middle of this icy tarn, it leaves a circular crack, outlining its outer edges, as if a small iceberg meteor has struck the ground. After circumnavigating the entombed tarn, the trail runs upwards, towards Panhandle Gap. Here, a large cornice looms over us, like a tidal wave frozen in place. Already sweating from the exertion, but also from the morning heat beating down, helping to melt us, it seems out of place. Once on top, the other side is another Winter Wonderland. It staggers my mind, as my memory of this place was one of dust and rock, around the trail down, and islands of green before reaching the slopes surrounding Indian Bar. Now, only hummocks of white snow everywhere, as far as the eye could see!!! Truly astounding. With the clear skies, you have incredible sights across the expanse to Mt. Adams, and in the far distance, Mt. Hood in Oregon. We can also see that the Goat rocks are still covered in snow, as well…It’s a good thing we’ve lathered up with sun screen, as the heat seems to intensify with each hour, and there is nothing but open ground between us and Indian Bar. With the reflective surface of the snow, and brilliant sun overhead, I get the distinct feeling it’s going to be like an ant trying to escape the taunts of a deviant child holding a magnifying lens, trying to focus the power of the sun’s rays on its fleeing backside, causing it to burst into flames… Checking the GPS to make sure that the existing footprints are following the prescribed path, we trudge out across the white expanse. Occasionally, we come across route markers, flags to show the way, but the sun has caused many of them to melt out, and they fall over. We re-plant them as we come to them. Before long, we are at the ridgeline that leads down into Indian Bar, and this vantage point gives us up close views of the many waterfalls that melt out of the Ohanapecosh Glacier, and roll down the granite walls. What they may lack in volume, the height from which they fall makes for long ribbon like waterways that course down the rock face, eventually melding together, to create the headwaters of the Ohanapecosh River, which flows through the middle of Indian Bar on its headlong way down the mountain. As we near Ohanapecosh Park, to our left, we stop and visit some Wonderlanders, and they too, tell us of the white out conditions on this side of the pass. Guess it was pretty bad here yesterday. That, and some other stories that they have heard about this part of the Wonderland. It seemed odd to us, that there weren’t that many people on this section of trail, given its popularity, and the fact this was a weekend. Appears that many people were bailing on this section, because of the snow, turning around, and re-joining the trail on the other side of Summerland. One of the unique things about the Wonderland, as it makes a complete loop around the mountain, is the fact that stories heard and experienced are spread from one set of hikers to another, and it’s not uncommon to see people again as they circumnavigate the mountain, passing one another again on their way to trails end. So, what you end up with is a kind of trailside telegraph, of sorts, for information to be spread. Because of this, we hear of people falling on the steep snowfields, leaving a garage sale scattered on the slopes, then turning back. That, and attempting the slopes, only to find it’s more than they bargained for, then turning around, or hearing from the ranger the extent of the snow, and deciding that they would rather have a summer time experience, rather than a winter one. Which, leads into what the ranger at Longmire told us as we stopped to claim our reservation for this part of the trail. “Oh, you’re going to where the big snow is!” Yep, that would be us. Since you have to plan months in advance to get a spot on the trail here, there’s no way to anticipate what the weather, or conditions will be like, so it’s a crap shoot, really. Since the weather was good, there was no way we were going to turn around; it could be a year again before getting the chance to hike through. As we left them, they told us that the trail up and over the Cowlitz Divide was not marked, and coming down through the white out, they marched in circles trying to find the way down. Once again, glad to have GPS….Nearing Indian Bar, we finally see green meadows, and flowers! The slopes here face the full onslaught of the midday sun, and it’s mostly melted out here, and remains that way until we reach the flats around Indian Bar. Feels good to walk on ground that doesn’t shift, or slide under your feet. Tired of slogging through the soft snow, we are happy to finally arrive at Indian Bar. A quick trip through the camp confirms that all the sites here are still covered in snow, so, either we snow camp, or take our chances at the shelter. The shelter here is a nice one, and originally, it was built with a fire place, that has since been blocked by the Parks dept., to deter people from trying to actually build a fire here. The floor is a nicely planked one, dry, and there are bunks attached to the sides of the building, upper and lower. There is still around two feet of snow surrounding the building, but it will be a dry place to camp, so we pick our bunks, and then set about exploring the area. The Ohanapecosh River is crystal clear from the fresh snow melt, and is beautiful, flowing in many ribbons down from the cliffs above. On the shoulders of the cliffs lay the Ohanapecosh Glacier, supplying the fresh melt, and from down here in the basin, the sheer granite walls are massive and impressive, blocking out any views one might see of the mountain from here. But, no matter, as it helps to make this place more different than any other section on the Wonderland, adding its own uniqueness to the “wonder” of this trail. From the side that we came down, there are stands of alpine firs that border open green meadows, and one of the stands of trees seems to form an arrow’s tip, that points to the heart of the river valley. The river causeway is wide, from years of angry torrents, and the bottom is all jumbled rock, most about the size of basketballs. Several different rivulets seem to find their own way down through the piled up rocks, before joining as one to crash over the Wauhaukaupauken Falls, a narrow ravine in the solid rock that gathers the water here, creating an impressive cascade of roiling water. The footbridge to cross is here, perhaps the only secure place to put a bridge, as either side of the granite walls create a perfect footing that cannot be washed away. The rest of the afternoon is spent filling our memory banks with the spectacular scenery, as well as our digital memory cards. Dinner time and we are treated to another culinary treat from Greg! This time, it’s more of the Knorr noodles, with mashed potatoes, green beans, (yep, he lugged in a can of beans!) and a loaf of bread and butter!!! At least, we found one good thing for the plentiful snow, it makes a great refrigerator. It was awesome to be able to have real buttered bread, I feel the beginnings of being spoiled starting to set in…Filling our bellies, being somewhere dry amidst all the snow, and having one in a million views staring back at us, all is right with the world…Except for our new bunkmate. A mouse (at least we only see one), keeps us occupied for awhile, as we watch him dart about the shelter, wanting to make sure he doesn’t decide that he likes our bags as well as we do. Before turning in, I make a mental note to check my sleeping bag THOROUGHLY before turning in. I don’t really need a furry foot warmer…While we play a few games of dice, and watch the sun slowly set, Brian spies out a small herd of elk on the slopes opposite us, so we watch them until they disappear from view. We turn in, a full day under our belts.
Day 3 7.1 miles, 1146ft gain/ 3231ft loss. Another beautiful sunny day! We’re packed and ready to go by 8:00am, as this is our longest day. It seems that it will also be the hottest, as we can already feel the heat starting to build. Shouldering packs, we head up the trail, and its steep here, especially on snow fields, about 800ft up until we reach a flat that gives us more stupendous views. Back towards the way we came, you now have a full view of Mt. Rainier, and the Ohanapecosh River valley seems small in comparison, dwarfed by the mountain. The Cowlitz chimneys are also visible, and we can once again see the Goat Rocks, and the Tatoosh range, also covered in snow. Mt. Adams is also visible from here, and we take a minute to catch our breath and admire the view. Then, we continue down, a nice walk along the Cowlitz divide, offering great views to the east and west. Little by little, the snow finally begins to release its tenacious grip, and we begin to see more and more of the trail, leaving meadows that now finally clear of the snow, are beginning to bud and bloom. They aren’t the only thing coming out of hibernation, as we encounter for the first time, biting insects. Then, around 10:30am, I stop dead in my tracks, and say, “bear!” There, on the trail in front of us, perhaps 25 to 30 yards away, is a black bear, looking back at us, and sniffing the air inquisitively. I move quickly to grab my camera, and get a couple of shots before he saunters off. All the years I’ve spent in the woods around here, and it’s the first time I’ve seen one in the wild. This kind of encounter, I don’t mind, as he didn’t really seem that interested in us. We reach the woods, and begin the long switchbacks down to the car, and home. All in all, an awesome hike that allowed us to see the best the Wonderland Trail has to offer. If there is any one section that you would venture to try, I would strongly suggest this part. You will never forget the massive spectacle that is Indian Bar, or the up close views of the mountain as seen from Summerland, views that cannot be seen unless you trek into this part of the Mt. Rainier Wilderness. Thanks to Brian and Greg for making this trip memorable!

Crossing Fryingpan Creek

On the trail to Summerland

Summerland Shelter

Trudging up snow field, above Summerland

Mt. Rainier, with K-spire, and Little Tahoma

Greg and Brian, at our turn around point

Butt Trails in the snow.

Brian and Greg on the way to Panhandle Gap

Panhandle Gap, cornice visible behind us.

Looking south from the gap, towards Indian Bar. Nothing but snow.

Heading into Indian Bar

Lovely Indian Bar, covered in a blanket of snow.

Ohanapecosh River, runs through the heart of Indian Bar.

Wauhaukaupauken Falls

Downtime at the Indian Bar shelter.

The boys on top of the Cowlitz Divide

Cowlitz Divide Trail...Somewhere...

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Bear on the trail along the Cowlitz divide.

Day 1

Day 2

Day 3

Day 4

The day has finally arrived, when we leave for Lake Chelan. We’ve kept our eye on the current reports for the area, as there has been all manner of weather related problems. Forest fires nearby at Stehekin, and the surrounding area, and constant thunder storms causing lightning strikes and flash floods. In fact, we find out as we get closer, one of these flash floods has caused road damage to highway 97A, forcing a detour around on 97, the opposite side of the mighty Columbia river. This will be a 4 day trip into the Glacier Peak Wilderness, and to get there, will require travel by car, ferry, and bus. Dan Ritola joins us on this adventure, and after packing backpacks, and overnight essentials, we travel to our first stop at Lake Chelan State Park. Right as we turn into the park, there is a sign that says that they’re full. What?!! On a Wednesday? You’ve got to be kidding! All of the tent sites are first come, first serve, and there are so many, that I was sure we’d have no problem getting a site, on a Wednesday! Surely, this only meant the reserve sites… We pull up to the check in station, and ask if they have any sites available for walk ups, and she said that they were full, because of a fire near the 25 mile creek campground further up the lake, which created an evacuation, and everyone came here from that campground…Aaargh! I told her our plight, and she looked again, and said that maybe one of the sites had not been filled yet, so we scurried over to look. Appears that site was full, and so I pleaded and begged…Are you sure you don’t have anything? What are we to do??? She looked again, slapped her forehead, and said, “Oh, yes, here’s one at site 38. Would you…” and before she could say anything more, I whipped out the plastic and laid it on her. “We’ll take it!!!” Relieved to get a site, we drive over to the spot, and..Wouldn’t you know it? The only place left at the inn, was a site that Greg and I had camped at our last time we came to the lake…I couldn’t believe it. We dump our gear, (it practically jumped out of the back of the stuffed to the rim Exterra), and we set camp, then drove to Lake Chelan for dinner. After a hearty meal, we found our way back to the campsite, after a quick detour for firewood, and soft ice cream cones…
Day 2 Or, is it day 1? 2350ft gain/246 loss 8.3 miles. To start this long journey, we have to ride the ferry to Lucerne, the drop off point for Holden Village, which is where our trail head begins. So, at 8:30am, we board the Lady of the Lake II, the slow boat up lake to Lucerne. It chugs along at a brisk pace of about 11 miles an hour, and takes appx. 3.5 hours to arrive at our destination, under skies that are thick and hazy, from all the smoke created from the fires raging in BC. Along the way, it stops a couple of times for new passengers to board, at Fields point, and at Prince Creek to drop off a couple of backpackers via gangplank, so they can hike the rest of the way to Stehekin via the Lakeshore trail. We arrive at the dock around 12:00, and from here, we catch the bus, (an old yellow school bus named “Pookie”, since retired from ferrying kids to school, and now employed lugging visitors back and forth to Holden), and start the steep switchback uphill towards Holden Village. It’s a gravel road that’s well maintained, but with hairpin corners that give you a bird’s eye view to the ravines below. This takes about 35 to 45 minutes, and then you finally arrive at Holden. As you pull up to the stop, you are warmly greeted by most of the inhabitants of the village, all clapping in unison, and cheering. Some people are even greeted with hugs as they leave the bus, and we’ve designated Greg as our surrogate “huggee”, although he seems rather reluctant to do so…Sidestepping the hug fest, we grab our gear and hit the trail, glad to finally be putting boot to trail. Of course, no trip would begin complete, if it were not for some gear malfunction. It appears that Dan’s pack has sprung a leak. Or, rather a leak has been sprung by a rodent of some sort; the malcontent has chewed through the bottom of his pack to get at his trail mix! After pointing this out to Dan, and the fact that some furry creature has helped himself to his snack, Dan begins plotting the death of all the local chipmunks and squirrels. They seem to instinctively know this, for they avoid him like the plague. As we head towards the trail head at the end of the road, he leaves a trail of nuts and raisins that he no longer has an appetite for. The gravel road leads you past the old township of Winston, the only remains are rock walls and concreted steps that must have led up to the homes, and a placard, with a brief history of the place. Looks as if at one time there were about 100 homes here, to house the miners and their families that worked in the copper mines at Holden, its original purpose of existence. In the hills above Holden, you can still see the old mine and the orange tailings piled high among the trees. As the trail begins, it stays relatively flat and wide, through trees that occasionally break to allow you views of the mountains that surround this creek basin. The trail follows Railroad creek all the way to Lyman Lake, as the terrain here is steep and rocky. The trail is well maintained, and easy to hike as it’s a moderate uphill most of the way to Hart Lake, the site that we had planned on spending our first night. Near the 3.5 mile mark, the trail decides it’s time to climb up out of Railroad creek, and as it does so, it begins to clear the brush and small trees that line this part of the trail. Ahead, you can see a ridge that forms a headwall between two mountains, Bonanza Peak and Dumbell Mt., which creates a natural dam that holds back the waters of Harts Lake. This creates a dramatic waterfall as the outlet for the lake rushes over the ridge, cascading over the granite. Once over the ridge, you can look down upon Hart Lake, formed here at the pinch point created by the ridge. In the distance, feeding this lake is beautiful Crown Point Falls, leapfrogging down rolling granite walls. It creates a spectacular scene, and from this lake on, it is a recipe that is repeated over and over, as melt coming out of high glaciers flows down the steep granite walls that hem you in on both sides of the trail. In fact, there are so many waterfalls, that I could not count them all. As we reach the banks of Hart’s lake, we look for the few established campsites here, and it looks as if the only one that is unoccupied is unappealing, so we move on. I had noted on the maps that there is supposed to be another camp further on called Rebel camp, and we decide to make that our destination, as it’s only another .6 miles. After crossing Railroad Creek, that feeds Hart Lake, (sometimes in a torrent, as evident by the massive piles of stones washed downstream, obliterating the trail and foliage in a wide swath), we reach a clearing, where we get awesome views of the many long waterfalls streaming out of the Isella Glacier that hugs the sides of Bonanza Peak. One path simply wasn’t enough, and the water has found at least 3 different ways down the sides here, creating a water slide show. Once at Rebel Camp, we are amazed to find it’s only 4:00pm, and Greg suggests that we press on to Lyman Lakes, especially if it’s only another 2 miles or so, and that will make tomorrow’s hike to Image lake shorter, allowing us more time to explore Miner’s Ridge, and the Fire lookout. It seems a great idea, even though we will have to climb another 1500 ft of elevation today…That, and the fact that the biting black flies here are relentless, seals the decision to press on. From Rebel Camp, looking north to the slopes, we again see water flowing in bounding waterfalls. Simply amazing. There is no shortage of water along this hike. As we near Crown Point Falls, the dominant falls and source of background noise here, you can look to the right and see  North Star Mt, and to our left, the jagged peaks of Dumbell Mt. From each of these prominent features, water is running downhill, as if the very mountains were melting. It sets a beautiful stage, with the peaks, jagged granite skylines, rushing water, and curtains of forest green set to the background music of rushing waters. Truly inspiring! We reach the switchbacks, and the steep begins in earnest. After another 1.7 miles of constant, relentless uphill, we reach the flat right before Lyman Lakes. Then, it’s a short jaunt through alpine meadows, to our camp, right across from the trail junction to Upper Lyman Lakes. Relieved to finally be here, and to have the switchbacks behind us, we drop our packs and make camp. It’s not long, and we realize the mosquitoes and biting flies are no better here, and they pelt and bombard us. It’s as if we’re being peppered with a shotgun filled with small projectiles, they try to enter our eyes, mouth, nose, and ears, and we all do the deranged looking dance of swat, sweep, and flail at the air, looking all as mad as hatters…Dousing ourselves in bug spray helps for a while, until we notice an odd side effect. Wiping our lips with the backs of hands soaked in repellant, it’s soon hard to form sentences that don’t sound like gibberish. “dosh yur lppps fllll nuuumm??” It was like getting a shot of novacaine, and botox at the same time, felt like our lips were numb, and swollen!!! Made for some interesting conversations, let me tell you…Dinner was awesome, once again! Greg brought the first night’s dinner, and we had Chicken with rice, Green beans from backpacker’s pantry, that tasted amazingly fresh!, and bread sticks. Yum! That, and straight from the cooler, (a snow bank that still lingered) nice cold Reese’s peanut butter cups for dessert. A very satisfying meal. Before long, it was time to crash, and, tired out; we drifted off to sleep, re-charging for the next day’s trip.
Day2 2142ft gain/1766ft loss 9.72 miles. More uphill awaits us, and we’re eager to get going, to see the famed Image Lake, a lake that reflects the image of Glacier Peak, for those lucky enough to capture it. I have my doubts now, as once again, the thick haze left over from the fires in BC fill the air. Not very conducive to long range photos. Packing our gear, we begin the 1.5 miles uphill to Cloudy Pass, and this time the uphill grade is moderate, beginning in the trees that line the shores of Lyman Lake, and then switchbacks uphill through alpine firs that gradually thin, and give way to impressive meadows, that undulate like folds in a rumpled blanket, carpeted in lush green and dotted with huge patches of wildflowers. A stream runs down through it all, creating tiny waterfalls at perfect intervals, once again, I’m reminded of a garden that is perfectly planned and maintained. With all the flowers in bloom, it’s hard to imagine. It’s here that we meet the trail crew that is working in the area, and we thank them for their hard work. The trail rounds the bowl here in the meadow, and as you reach above tree line, you have distant views of Lower Lyman Lake, and the reaches of Upper Lyman Lakes, and its attendant glacier. The glacier is at the base of Chiwawa Mt. and it is reminiscent of most of the dark gray granite that forms most of the peaks and mountains in this region. But, joining it is the flanks of Red Mt., aptly named for its rust red hue, which stands in stark contrast to the darker granite. Stunning, with its adornment of snow fields that only help to accentuate its ruddy hue. That, and the turquoise blue of the lakes below, held back by stands of green firs, and carpets of lush green that stop only at the piles of glacier tailings, make for a sight not normally seen here in the state. I can hardly wait to see it up close, but we’re saving that for tomorrow…I can only hope the weather holds. We reach the gap that forms Cloudy Pass, and are able to look across the other side towards Suiattle Pass, and down into the valley that separates this pass from peaks that face us to the northwest, Plummer Mt, and further north, Sitting Bull Mountain. These peaks, too, are that rust colored orange red, and the snow fields that melt from their heights help create the headwaters of Agnes Creek. A great pass to see for long distances, and the flanks of snow covered Glacier Peak are barely discernable around the unnamed foothills here. Down the pass, are several switchbacks for another .6 miles, before heading up towards Suiattle Pass, and it requires clambering over fallen granite slabs and chunks that dot the run out right below the granite walls here. Suiattle Pass is dotted with trees that cut off any sight lines you have, so it isn’t nearly as impressive as Cloudy Pass, although here it becomes the PCT, and we will stay on it for the next .7 miles.
Again, we’re heading slightly downhill through small step meadows, filled with flowers, and at one small section is a hillside bursting in the orange colors of Tiger Lilies. Right after the trail that we’re following leaves the PCT, we enter a small clearing in the woods, and see…A folding metal chair, sitting in the campsite here? Who in the world would bring one of those this far into the woods? It seems as out of place here as a water fountain. Then, looking to our right, hidden behind a couple trees, is an old miner’s cabin built out of plywood, with a tin roof, and suddenly, the chair makes more sense. There are still a couple of bunk beds inside, and all of the old metal stoves, and assorted other detritus lie in a pile outside the cabin. This whole area used to be mined as late as the 1950’s, so it shouldn’t be surprising to see it here, as odd as it seems…These must have been some hardy individuals to have lived this far out. From here, the trail hugs Miner’s Ridge, and is remarkably flat and straight for the next 1.5 miles, to the next trail junction, that begins a steep switchback uphill. It’s mostly through old growth forest, occasionally broken up by an avalanche slide here and there, providing you sweeping views of the mountainous terrain to your south, across the Miner’s creek valley below, over to the snow covered points of Glacier Peak, and its surrounding ridges. Still in tree line, you finally reach the trail junction that leads up to Image Lake, and within .7 of a mile, you open up to one of the largest hillside meadows I’ve ever seen! The scale of it is hard to imagine, here above tree line. The trail continues to side hill here through the meadows, and it disappears from sight around the second or third fold. It’s steep here, and I can’t recall a steeper or more expansive meadow. Very impressive! Marmots are everywhere, and you can hear their shrill whistle above the steady wind that blows here. Now, with all the trees below us, we have sweeping, panoramic views of the ridges, peaks, and mountains that hem in the ridgeline that we now stand on. They are awesome, and it’s hard to believe there are so many lined up, as far as the eye can see. It’s incredible that a way was found through all of them, as densely packed as they seem to be, one next to the other. We reach the final meadow, and at a 4 way intersection, head downhill a ¼ mile to Image Lake camp. Once again, we are the only souls here, so we have our pick of campsites, and choose the lower campground, which is partially sheltered by trees. The upper campground is out in the open, and with the possible threat of thundershowers, we opt for the sheltered sites. Lightening the load, we only bring the bare essentials with us, and decide on a day trip to see a Fire lookout tower at the far reaches of Miner’s Ridge. It’s only a 2.6 mile round trip, and the views from here are impossible to describe. 360 degree panoramic views of some of the most rugged and beautiful terrain I’ve ever seen. The scope is difficult to comprehend. Pictures will never do justice to the physical moment of being there, the rush of wind coming up to greet you, the smells of wildflowers, the various bird songs, and sounds of moving water, all combine with the overwhelming spectacle that assails your eyes. I simply do not have the command of the English language to adequately describe the sights and sounds that can only be experienced by being there. Truly astounding. We climb to the top of the fire station, to see what a working one looks like, and what the view is like from up here. We had met the ranger further down the trail, on his way to re-supply himself with water from the lake, and he told us it was ok to go up and have a look. Talk about a room with a view! We take our pictures, then head back to camp, only hoping that some of the pictures turn out through the constant haze of the day…Once we reach the lakeshore, we see another group of hikers that have made the plunge into Image lake, and after two days on the trail, we can’t wait to do the same, so from our side of the lake, we peel off the dirty layers, and dive in! It’s cold, creating an impossible urge to let out a few exuberant “Whoo’s!!!” which is met with laughter from the other side. Once properly cleaned, and refreshed, we lounge at the edge of the lake, glad to be clean, and enjoy the warm rays of sun as they dry us out. It’s a funny little parade on the short way back to camp…I mean, who wants to put your wet, dirty shorts back on after that? With no one around to point and laugh, we don packs and trek back to camp wearing nothing but our UnderArmor. I won’t tell, if you don’t…
Dry with clean clothes on, we set about preparing dinner, and Greg has once again brought a veritable feast! Tonight will be Salmon pasta, with mashed potatoes, and boy is it great! After a minor mishap with the noodles, we get the recipe down just right, and enjoy a great meal. Thanks again, Greg!!!
Day 3 2386ft gain/2010ft loss 11.57 miles. Our longest day. When we woke up and ventured outside, we were bummed to see the fact that…You couldn’t see. Fog had completely socked in, and visibility was down to about 100ft, so seeing the reflection of Glacier Peak in Image Lake was out. Drat! That was something that I had hoped to film for months, but it wasn’t to be…Depressed, and a little angry, I packed up my stuff. Hopefully, this grayness would lift before we got to the Upper Lyman Lakes? I could only hope for now that it would burn off in time, for it is another of the places here that I was hoping to be able to see, with Lyman Glacier at the base of Chiwawa Mt., its blue ice being the source of water for most of the Lyman Lakes. Packed up and ready to go, we leave the Image lake area, and begin the long return hike back to Lyman Lakes. By the time we reach the Suiattle/Cloudy Pass section, we notice, climbing to the top of Cloudy Pass, that the fog seems to be lifting. Enough so, that when we reach the pass, we can barely make out the upper lakes from here. Great! If we’re lucky, the weather will hold. The low cloud level creates a dramatic mood and I can only hope that it translates well in pictures…Back down through the wonderful meadow here at Cloudy Pass, into the tree line, it’s not long before we reach the shores of lower Lyman Lake, and we’re glad to see that the spot we had the first night is open. Quickly, we set camp, and head out for upper Lyman Lakes, filled with the hope that the weather will hold long enough for us to get our desired pictures…A short jaunt later, and we break out into open meadows, filled with wildflowers, and small pools of water, probably collected from snow melt and the recent rains. It’s idyllic, and impossible to resist snapping more and more pictures, in a desperate attempt to capture for a moment, the analog to digital…At the upper heights of this mystical little park, there is a small flat before descending down into the Upper lakes basin, and from this vantage point, it creates the dilemma of trying to decide which is more beautiful. Back in the direction we came, with the blue of Lower Lyman Lake surrounded by groups of trees, meadows, and stark granite walls, the park like setting below to our right, with distant views of Cloudy Peak, and its gash of stark white granite? Or, ahead of us, a green tapestry of carpeted meadows and small copses of trees growing right up to the edge of jumbled granite boulders, speckled with the red from the stones of Red mountain, the blue ice of Lyman Glacier now easily discernable, creating the ice blue waters of Lyman Lakes. If I were allowed to give monikers to the landmarks here, I would name this Decision Pass, as it aptly describes my lack of being able to make one. That would change, however, as I descended down into the upper Lakes basin. Once we reach the flat of the meadows, we can see that there are Larch trees growing here! Amazing, I’ll bet, during the fall, when they turn one of the most beautiful colors of the third season, glowing golden in the sun. It’s as if they seem to know where they are to grow, adding even more delight to the eyes in a place that is already teeming with inspiration! The pathway perfectly navigates this garden, like walkways that navigate amusement parks, this one being built for hikers. No matter where you look, everything provides treats for the eyes. As a backdrop, the granite walls here are sheer, fencing this special place off from everywhere else. Over the centuries, large chunks have sloughed off, and lie in piles at the bases.  Pieces of Chiwawa Mountain are interspersed with grey and black granite rock, creating a mix of color not often seen in the Cascades. In places, they are piled up, pushed up in waves from the glacier long ago. This left a depression, that forms the beginnings of Lyman Lakes, and the retreating glacier is now sitting at the base of Chiwawa Mt. From the piles of rocks to the base of the mountain, it looks like a Marscape, because everything here is tinged reddish-orange. From the piles northward, is where everything looks as if it is a manicured garden, creating a line between that which is fertile, and that which is not, as if the piled rock has created a garden wall. Water flows down between the piles of rocks, and it keeps its ice blue color the whole way down to the lower lake. Waterfalls are created at the outlet to each lake, and the last waterfall pouring down into lower Lyman is the most impressive, it may not be spilling its volume from a sheer height, but it rolls and undulates down bald granite, creating a rivulet that bounds and leaps downhill. This is truly one of the most spectacular places that I have ever visited on this earth and in writing this, I am already reminiscent, wanting to see this place again with my own eyes…Reluctant to leave, we decide it’s for the best, as the weather seems to be turning for the worst. Before we reach camp, it starts to turn to a steady drizzle. Boy, a fire would be nice, and after asking one of the trail crew, we find that fires are permitted at the lower lake only! Perfect, since that is where our camp is, so once we return to camp, we scrounge for firewood, before the rain dampens all the available wood. Tonight, we’ll be able to chase back the mosquito horde, and get some desired relief from the rain. Our fare tonight is simple, but tasty. We take some chicken chunks, and in a frying pan, add a chili sauce and cook the bits of chicken. Then, add that to a pot of Knorrs Chow Mein noodles, one of their Asian Sides, and a pot of garlic mashed potatoes. Stick to your ribs kind of food, but awesome compared to freeze dried meals…With full bellies, we turn in for the night after enjoying only the second campfire we’ve ever had in the backcountry…
Day 4 246ft gain/2350ft loss 8.3 miles. The return to Holden is basically uneventful, and we retrace our steps from the first day. When we break camp, everything is wet, and we don rain gear to keep from getting soaked from saturated brush on the trail down. I’m not into the trek for more than a half mile, though, and I have to shed all the raingear, as I’m unable to tell the difference between getting wet fromthe brush, or getting soaked with sweat on the inside…The weather remains gloomy, and there isn’t much conversation or picture taking on the return trip, each guy lost in his own thoughts, the soundtrack of boots on rock and dirt, an occasional grunt of labor, and the creak of backpacks the only sounds to intrude on our thoughts as we bomb down the trail, intent on not missing our only ride back out. The bus leaves Holden at 1:45pm, to catch the ferry at Lucerne at 2:30pm, so we don’t want to be late. Back in town, it’s a relief to rid ourselves of boots and backpacks, and relax, reclining in wooden chairs, waiting for the bus to arrive. It’s during this down time that we witnessed a scene that I’m sure would replay itself many times over in this young man’s lifespan…Here at the loading docks, near where we were seated, was a wooden push cart, with two bike wheels and a handle, for ferrying cargo and bags up and down the trails to bunkhouses. It had three sides, and the front side was open, so you could just lift up on the handle, and all the baggage would slide out, like the bed on a dump truck. Well, the young man in question, thought it a good idea to climb into the cart, and have his three “attendants”, (all females, of course!) push him around! Well, that was all good, until they decided they wanted a turn, and that’s when things turned sour, for him. No amount of cajoling or reasoning was going to convince him that his turn was up, and after a few, “It’s not just about you!”, and “ I’m gonna tell dad’s!”, he got summarily dumped out on the ground, and had his hand crunched between the hard pan and the cart. Naturally, this brought forth a bellow, and a “you did that on purpose!” scream….There he was, laying on the ground, holding his injured wing up for inspection, all the while complaining that they crushed his finger…At this point, it seemed obvious to the girls that the game was over, so, with a toss of their shoulders, and a flip of the pony tail, they skipped off, singing some nonsensical little whimsy, leaving our young man laying disheveled on the ground, moaning softly…Funny, how it seems a microcosm of adult life, the girls skipping off whistling, while the young lad lay in a crumpled heap in the dirt, mumbling to himself. I had to wonder, if he learned anything from this little train wreck, or if he would continue to repeat the same mistakes over and over again? After getting a chance to watch the little twerp later on, I opted for the latter, as he seemed a painfully slow learner…Finally, the bus arrived, and we got the chance to witness from this perspective, the debarking of the bus…This time, they played bongo drums, with lots of clapping and shouting, and I couldn’t help but be reminded a little of welcoming one’s dinner to camp…I know, that sounds morbid and all, and these are friendly people, but remember…It’s possible that I’ve watched too many movies…Once back at the dock, the day turned sunny and warm, just in time for our boat ride back to Chelan, and it capped off a great hike, with many memories…Almost 20 miles into the Glacier Peak Wilderness, and all it felt like was as if we had just scratched the surface of a magnificent area, a place that if it weren’t so remote, would probably be overrun with people… So, I’m thinking that perhaps it’s in the best interest of this serenely beautiful place that it continues to keep up its solid granite ramparts, to keep out all except for the hardiest of individuals… 

Lady of the Lake, with 2 not so ladylike passengers aboard...

Lucerne Landing, the drop off point to reach Holden Village

First view you see when you get off the bus at Holden Village.

Greg on the trail, with Bonanza Peak in the immediate distance.

Trail Falls, pouring out of Hart Lake, forming Railroad Creek.

Hart Lake

More waterfalls, as the melting glacial water flows from Bonanza Peak.

Jagged peaks adorn Dumbell Mt.

Dan and Greg, on the footbridge over Railroad Crk, to upper Lyman Lakes.

Lower Lyman Lake

Greg in the meadow below Cloudy Pass

Cloudy Pass, looking west towards Plummer Mt.

Dan finds respite from the trail in a...Folding metal chair???

Glacier Peak, with clouds that look as if she blew her top.

Meadows teeming with color, near Image lake

Image Lake

Fire lookout

Looking back along Miners Ridge, from the lookout

Greg and Dan stop along the way to Upper Lyman Lakes

Marmot guarding the Upper Lyman Lakes basin.

Upper Lyman Lakes basin

Lyman Glacier, at the base of Chiwawa Mt.

Idyllic site in the Upper Lyman Lake area

Cloudy Peak rises above lower Lyman Lake

Back in Holden Village

Billowy clouds over Lake Chelan

Day 1

Day 2

Greg and I journey into the hard to reach North Cascades, once again. The more we see of this rugged place, the more we want to explore it, so, poring over maps, we find an out and back that will cover a weekend, and provide some more challenge. Just how much of a challenge, we were about to find out… Knowing that an early start would be key, we decide to camp at Gold Basin on Friday, a campground outside the small town of Granite Falls, on the Mountain Loop Highway. There are many campgrounds along the way, but this is by far the biggest, and as we don’t have reservations, we decide to try there first, hoping for more options. It sits along the banks of the South Fork of the Stillaguamish River. There aren’t many sites left, so we’re happy to find one, plop our gear down to stake our claim, and then head into Granite Falls for dinner. We find a nice place to eat at Ed’s drive in, situated in the middle of town, for a burger and shake. Back at camp, we enjoy a nice fire before turning in, ready to hit the trail in the morning.
Day 1 3143ft gain/700ft loss, 9.1 miles. Up and at em! Loading our gear into the truck, we’re out of the camp by 7:15am, determined to get a jump on the day, and drive the remainder of the way to Barlow Pass, where the trail head for Monte Cristo starts. Actually, it’s more of an old gravel road than trail, and it persists all the way to the abandoned mining town of Monte Cristo, about 4 miles in. The old road here seems to have covered over old rail road tracks, probably for getting the ore out of the mountains, and from town. We notice this where the road is washed out by the river, revealing rusty old tracks suspended in air, as if the road had a skeleton. It’s an easy grade, and we’re almost bored by the time we reach Monte Cristo. There isn’t much to see, as most of the way it’s through forest, with occasional views to distant peaks when it opens to the South Fork of the Sauk River. Sometimes, the forest canopy is so dense, that it’s like walking through a tunnel, and the long straight stretches of road seem to vanish to a point in the distance. Also, adding to the oddity, are several old warning signs, telling vehicular traffic to yield to pedestrians and bicyclists. Obviously, they’ve been here a long time, as the bridges and road have been washed out for years. Still, we think it might have been nice if we had brought bikes, as the long, flat, straight road would have been eaten up in no time on two wheels…We cross the foot bridge into the last remains of the town of Monte Cristo, and there are still several old buildings left standing here, along the edges of a small clearing. They’re small buildings, and painted red, like the fading color on an old barn, and signage in several places gives you information on what it used to be, like “Power Station”, and “Railroad turntable”, an iron platform that would rotate the engine around. There are about six buildings left, and near the trailhead, is an information bulletin board, that gives you the history of Monte Cristo. Looking above the tree line, you can make out between the wisps of low clouds, Wilmans Peaks, and Columbia Peak, which is near our destination. Once on the Silver Lake trail junction, the uphill begins. And, doesn’t stop…For the next two miles, it’s a relentless uphill to Poodle Dog Pass. Yes, that name’s correct, and gives you the impression that it’s as harmless as the fuzzy little critter it’s named after, but whomever gave it this odd moniker, should have named it something more sinister, like, “Kick the Dog Snot Outta You pass”, or something equally as malevolent…By the time I reached cute little ol’ Poodle Dog pass, I was ready to pass…Out…That was a buttkicker, let me tell you! At this point, you have a choice, (besides passing out), of either going to Silver lake, a mere .25 miles down into a bowl at the base of Silver tip Peak, or continue up, along a ridge towards Twin Lakes, our destination for the day. Not wanting to hike down and then back up at this moment, we decide to save it for tomorrow. The trail now continues up along a ridge towards Twin Peaks, a set of small peaks that provide a pass down to Twin Lakes. The trail now becomes fainter, and as it follows the ridge up and down, it becomes apparent that there is no trail maintenance beyond here, and that not many people have ventured along this path. After about 1.25 miles, the trail becomes pretty sketchy, more of a scramble than anything else, and reliant on rock cairns and faint sections of trail to lead the way. Now, it’s over jumbled granite, and in a few places, you’re left to grab for handholds, to pull yourself up. We reach our high point, the pass between Twin Peaks, and get our first view of spectacular Twin Lakes below. It’s impossible to suppress a “Wow!” here, as the blue of the lakes is stunning. It’s deep dark cobalt blue, the depth of blue that words are futile to describe. Both lakes are shining in the reluctant sun, peeking out from behind the constant wave of clouds that roll by, lining up one after the other, as if waiting for their chance to gaze down at these two blue gems. The whole northeastern edge of the lakes are the massive headwalls of Columbia Peak, which forms a massive, sheer wall of granite, that still hides large snow fields in its granite folds. The walls are near vertical, and at the bases of these hulking walls, are large run outs of scree and boulders, many of the rocks are the size of small houses and cars, tumbling all the way down to the lake. It’s at this edge of the lake, dotting the grassy fields among the boulders, that we see several tents. On our way down, we hear the peal of rocks striking rocks, and I wonder to myself, “are any of those boulders are still reaching the lakeshore?” Not sure I would want the experience of feeling like a spare in a game of ten-pin…As we reach the encampment, we notice the signs for “toilet” and “campsites”, so it must not happen…Often…From high up at the ridgeline, we had a chance to survey the area, and it looked as if there were some open spots between the two lakes, on a narrow stretch of land that delineates the two. We pass through to the far side, and I can hardly wait to see a flat spot to drop my pack at, it seems that for the last 4 and a half miles or so, there’s been nothing of the sort. So, you can imagine my joy, at reaching the spot we had spied out earlier, to find that indeed, there was a flat spot to jettison my pack! I want nothing more right now, than to plop down, and get my boots off, I’m exhausted. It’s still early, so, after a little rest, we decide to wander to the far reaches of this lake, to explore. First, we set up camp, and spread our gear out, as if a disgruntled bear had wandered into camp, and scattered everything looking for something to eat…My mother would be proud, or at least reminded, of what my room used to look like when I was the adolescent resident..At the far end of the lake, in a small mud flat, someone took the time to create a message with stones, an epithet of wishful desire, to any passing plane, or helicopter. One that would perfectly cap off a long, tiring, hot day, next to the lake…”Send Beer”…A simple, but heartfelt sentiment, one that I felt I could truly identify with…We marvel at the crystal blue waters, and how deeply you can see into the lakes depths, the fish swimming near the banks look as if they are floating in a blue sky, the water is so clear…Dark, ominous clouds continue to fill the sky above us, and we decide it’s probably best to head for camp. We’ve taken all the pictures we can, and seen all that our legs feel up to carrying us to, so back we go, to our new home. Once back at camp, I can tell I’m done for the day. All I can think of now, is to get these boots off, and rest a bit more..Aahh..That feels better, except for a sore hoof. I make my way to the lake to soak it in it’s cool waters, and can barely leave it in for 10 minutes, save some wincing and complaining about how c-c-c-c-oooooold it feels…Greg sits back on the banks with a nice warm, aromatic, cup of joe, watching my self- torture with some amusement…After drying off my foot, and putting on camp shoes, we are visited by the occupants from the other site. Actually, as there are few places to camp here, the “trail” ( I use that term loosely), wanders through pretty much every campsite here, so its’ more of a “hi, how ya doin’!” type of thing as they stroll through camp back to their site. Dinner. It’s another good one, this time we use the Knorr Italian sides noodle dish, the Creamy Garlic Shells flavor. One package of that, with some chicken chunks that have been sautéed in olive oil with mushrooms, and garlic salt, creates a savory meal. That, and some Roasted Garlic mashed spuds from Idahoan. For dessert? Of course, we would only pick that which would perfectly compliment such a wondrous spread…We had another nutter butter peanut butter sandwich cookie!!! With Tootsie rolls!!! Really, I mean what else would go with that??? Our hunger abated, we sit back to admire our full bellies…What I forgot to mention, is that as we were cooking dinner, one of the guys from the other camp came back through, asking if we had seen one of his comrade’s that was late returning. Indeed, several hours earlier, on our sojourn to the far side of this lake, we were able to look down to the shores of the lower lake, and spot him, fishing from the banks. He thanked us, and moved on. Eventually, they   up again, after much shouting and some whistle blowing…After dinner, we had a chance to chat with them, Chris and Scott, as I remember, and watch Scott fish for a bit. The rainbow trout he had were an amazing color, scarlet along the belly, and their backs were blue, making them a very colorful fish indeed. These fish were hungry, and would strike at just about anything, we witnessed him catch and release about 10 in the 45 minutes or so that we stood around jawing…It was then, that Greg and I decided that perhaps, in the future, a rod and reel might be part of our repertoire…We said our goodbyes, and returned to camp, to wash dishes, and settle in to watch the night quickly spread down from the mountain peaks.
Day2 7000ft gain/3143ft loss, 9.1 miles. By 2:30am, during the night, we could hear the wind kick up, and then the unmistakable patter of raindrops striking the rainfly. Perfect! By 5:00am, it had become more persistent, so that by the time we arose around 6, there was a steady rain, and the ground was drenched. I could think of nothing I wanted to do better, than to clamber over wet granite, and smooth clay on steep hillsides, with a fresh soaking…We packed our soggy belongings, and with raingear on, we headed through the wet brush to climb back out of this bowl. By the time I started some uphill on the far side, I was already getting damp from sweat on the inside, and so, I peeled off the raingear, and hiked the rest of the way out in shorts and shirt. The way out wasn’t as bad as I had feared, for the wet granite actually provided good purchase, it was only on occasion that we slipped on the slick clay. The brush held the water well, and as we crashed through it, (for it encroached upon the trail for miles) it would produce a shower of cold rainwater, like turning a garden hose on. Within a mile or so, my boots became saturated, and started squishing with each step, oozing out water like a sponge. Nice. The remainder of the trip was a dash for the truck, we both were wet, and knew that the truck would produce heat and dry clothes. In record time, we reached the pick-up, and quickly shed our wet garments. It’s so good to get into a nice warm vehicle in dry clothes, especially after 4 or 5 hours of being soaked and cold…I didn’t take a single picture or video on the return trip, as I buried the camera deep within my pack to try and make sure it didn’t get wet. Also, on our headlong flight out of the wet, we skipped going into the Silver Lake basin, another reminder to me to be sure and take a picture while it presents itself, for you never know what the next day will bring…A great hike to be sure, very challenging, and a great hike to leave the crowds behind. On this trip, though, try not to leave the pole behind…

Straight stretch of road on the way to Monte Cristo

Monte Cristo

 Silver Lake

Greg standing in a rock garden, on the way to the top of the ridgeline

Dave, trying to catch up, going uphill...

Columbia Peak

Columbia Peak above the largest of Twin Lakes

Beautiful Twin Lakes

Final approach to Twin Lakes

The view from our campsite.

A heartfelt sentiment outlined in the mud...

Warm cup of joe to start a wet and cold day.

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Day 1

Day 2

Day 1 since this is another foray into the North Cascades, and it’s a long drive from here to the trailhead, we leave on the Friday before, to camp at a local campground, which enables us to get an early start. From past experience, we’ve learned to avoid the crowds by getting there ahead of them. We’ve been to that part of the state before, so driving along highway 2, towards Stevens Pass, we make our first stop at good ol’ Money Creek Campground, home to the whistle blowing maniac’s that drive the trains right through camp. At all hours of the day and night…Ok, maybe not right through camp, but, trust me…If you’re camped on the side next to the rails, (the campground is divided into two parts), you’ll get the surprise of your life during the night…We don’t even bother looking for a site on that side of the road, only as a last resort would we stay there again…As luck would have it, there was still one site left on the other side of the road, near the Skykomish River, and the rapids here, we hoped, would help to drown out the shrill whistle blasts from passing locomotives…It seemed to be doing a pretty good job with muffling conversations, anyway, as I noticed I had to raise my voice over the constant roar of rushing water to be heard. Securing our spot, and paying for the night, it’s not long before empty bellies start rumbling, and its’ not a secret that I’m driven by hunger. “hey, want to go to Skykomish, and get some snacks?” After all, it’s only 3:00pm, and we’re not ready yet for dinner, so it doesn’t seem to be any harm to go into town to get a quick snack, to take the edge off…2 miles away is the small, historic town of Skykomish, still undergoing the massive reconstruction of moving entire buildings, cleansing the soil, and then replacing them, as there was soil contamination from the railroad dumping oil. A monumental task, to be sure, but it seems they’ve made some headway from last year. Except that the Cascadia Inn, a great place to eat, is still undergoing renovation, so we won’t be eating there this year. At the beginning of town, is a small deli, that seems to specialize in alcohol. There’s plenty to drink here, but not much to eat, and we forage for a few small snack sized bags of chips, and a tube of Pringles potato chips. There really isn’t that much in the way of snacks here, but if you’ve got a hankering for some spirits, well…They’ve got that base covered, as the walls are racked with beer, and there’s a fully stocked liquor store at the back of the store. Goodies in hand, we return to camp, mow through the chips in short order, and find that only seemed to heighten the feeling that my stomach was sure that my throat had been cut…I hung on for 45 desperate, long minutes, before announcing that I was sure I was going to starve, so we made the short trip back to Gold Bar. During our drive from home, as we passed through town, we noticed a place that looked as if it might be a good place to eat, so that’s where we were headed, the Gold Bar Restaurant and Lounge. Inside, it was nice and clean, and looked recently remodeled. Their dinner special for Friday nights was Prime rib and mashed potatoes, and the prices were very reasonable. She served us both a plate of the dinner special, and it was definitely some good dead cow, with mashed potatoes and gravy (with the spuds indented like a little volcano, to hold all the gravy), and fresh tasting green beans. For dessert, there was pie and ice cream, and after putting all of this away, we rolled out of the fine establishment, holding our bellies, like the little piggies we were…Still, we needed to stop at the store, to pick up breakfast for tomorrow, even though the thought of food right now caused some discomfort…Why had we eaten so much??? After parking, and heading for the store, we ran into some local color, and she seemed determined to apologize for the fact that her land yacht had taken up two stalls next to us. We assured her this was not a problem, and made our way, quickly, to the store, sharing puzzled and bewildered looks between ourselves…In the store, we located breakfast, (and another little snack, just in case the bloated stomach wore off, one can never be too prepared), and waited our turn at the check out line. Since it was the check out line, a small voice next to Greg, having checked out his shirt, (Mt. Rainier Summit Climb emblazoned across the back), queried, with some amazement, I might add, “Did you climb Mt. Rainier?!” Silence. No response from Greg-O, so I leaned around to see where the voice came from, and here was a small woman, looking up at us…”Yep”, I replied, “We did”. To which she replied, “ I live in her shadow!” Oh, boy…Not wanting to be rude, I said, really? Where do you live? I found out it was Graham, so I told her we were practically neighbors, living in Puyallup, and all…The transaction of cash for our meager supplies was not going as quickly as I had hoped, and turning to look the cashier in the face, I could see she was clearly enjoying this verbal exchange…Grabbing my change, we left, but not before, “Are ya gonna climb Mt. Baker?” We were both glad to retreat to the safety of our campsite…This is the abbreviated version, the rest has been removed to protect the innocent, and incredulous…We enjoyed a fire’s company before turning in, and the train was certain to remind us, during the night, why we opted for a site further from the rails…
Day 2 3255ft gain/loss 11.7 miles Glad it didn’t rain, we load our equipment, and make our way to the trail head, and are there by 8:20am, and on the trail. It’s a large parking lot, but there are only two other cars present when we arrive. Keep that in mind for later…The trail enters forest right away, and in short order, starts switchbacking up hill through old growth forest. The trail is well maintained, and soft, fir needles blanket the dirt. Up, and up, for the first 2.83 miles, you gain most of the elevation, roughly 2700ft. Towards the top, you approach a ridgleline, that gives you great views towards the peaks that surround Blanca lake, towering, granite monoliths that rise far above the treeline, bare except for their attendant snow fields. Looking NE, you can see Glacier Peak, shining in the morning sun. It helps to spur you onward, wanting to see more. At the highest point, you cross a small meadow, before heading downhill to Blanca Lake, and along the way, you pass what appears to be a brackish pond, called Virgin Lake. Is it so named because no one has ever swum in it? Could be a reason for the odd name, given to such an ugly lake, or is it because…? Guess I’ll never know. Still, it cast’s a pretty reflection off of it’s still surface, hiding the reality of the lake. Down, and down, the trail is muddy and steep on this side, and you can see where several boots have skidded down the slick clay here, trying desperately to gain purchase. Finally, we reach the shores of Blanca lake, a light emerald, milky green from the glacial silt from the Columbia Glacier that feeds it. Blanca is a large lake, and fills the cirque created by the impressive granite walls of the surrounding mountains that tower around the bowl. The weather is perfect for taking pictures, and we stop to snap a few, high, puffy clouds dot the sky, and the blue sky against the green lake, and red tinged rocks provide a spectacular sight. Across the lake, in the distance, we can barely see a twin waterfall running downhill from the glacier, which is visible from here. It fills us with the desire to get closer, so off we go, to find a way around the edge of the lake. It’s clear it won’t be possible around the east shore, as the cliffs crowd steeply around the shoreline. Once down at the next flat, and where the trail seems to end, there is a small beach next to the outlet stream, a log jam clogging the exit. Not enough to provide a bridge across, more of a jumbled mass of floating timber. There’s a couple dads here with their children, and it must be obvious by our demeanor that we want across, so one of them comes over to offer, “there’s no way to get across except to wade”…Perfect. Off come the boots, and we wade across slick submerged rocks, wood, and debris to the other side. You can imagine how cold glacial water can be. On the opposite bank, there is a faint trail leading along the shoreline, and we follow it to the other end of the lake, where it becomes a scramble, over a large talus field, jumbled boulders of granite having fallen off of the high peaks above, creating a huge run out of rock that slopes right into the lake. From there, we pick our way up another slope created by generations of loose rock being piled into a ridgleline, that runs left of the main stream coming from the glacier above us. From there, sidehill across slick rock granite, smoothed by water and glacier ice to a saddle, that allows you easy access to the twin falls we could see from below, and the glacier itself. It was all worth it, as the views here are inspiring…You can look back across the lake, towards snow covered Glacier Peak in the far distance, then turn, and let your eyes follow back up the cirque towards Columbia Glacier, where its surrounding peaks block out the sky. Taking lots of pictures, we can only hope we capture some of the rugged beauty that defines the place. Now, to hike up on the glacier. We stay to the right, as it seems flatter, and the ice is solid, and rough on the surface, providing good footing. Water flows across the surface, and creates small streams that cut into the ice, revealing the frozen blue that can only be seen from thick, ancient ice. The crevasses are small enough that we can step or jump over them, and before long, we’re on the top of the flat section that stretches all the way to the bowls end, where the snow continues up the sides of the peaks, like a frozen wave. We’re near our turn around time, so we stow cameras, and head back down the glaciers flow, using our trekking poles to insure that we don’t exit like runaway toboggans down its slippery slope. At the waterfall, we decide to follow the water downstream, as an exit strategy. Not an entirely good one, as around the bend of the stream, the water has cut a path great for water, not so great for getting down, as it creates a slot canyon that provides no hand or foot holds. So, it requires us to leave the stream bed, and when we do, we run into a 30 foot sheer drop off. Not going down that way, either. In the end, we find a way to cling to brush, hand over hand, down to a more manageable trek back to the lakes edge. From there, it’s a return trip back along the shore, to the creek crossing. As we round the last bend, where we can see the opposite beach, we run into, on this side, about 8 or 9 people that have taken up residence. Its kind of a shock, and from here we can also see that there must be at least 20 people milling about on the opposite shore. Wow! Did this place fill up! There are also now about 4 tents filling about all of the flat area on that shore. Just another reminder of why we like to hit the trail early…Back across the other side, a voice asks if we were the guys on the glacier. Yep, that was us! Guess that orange shirt stands out a long ways away…Along the trail home, we must pass at least another 25 to 30 people on their way in, and the parking lot? It must have been jammed, as there are cars parked on both sides of the road leading to the parking lot, and down the road for another several cars! It’s just hard for us to imagine, that so many people come here. We passed people that had no packs, were carrying no water, and some of them were in deck shoes and jeans, for crying out loud!  A great day hike, and one that I’m glad we were able to make. In about 12 miles, we were able to see a lake, glacier, waterfalls, high peaks, deep forest, and a variety of terrain. We were already scouting out where we would camp if we came again, giving us more time to explore, and possibly do some peak bagging.

Near the top of ridgeline, Glacier Peak rises above the opposite mountains.

Mirror finish on little Virgin Lake

Greg at small meadow on top of ridge, with Kyes Peak in the distance.

Blanca Lake, with Columbia Peak and it’s glacier.

Blanca Lake, from shoreline.

Columbia Glacier

Blanca lake, as seen from above the twin waterfall

Waterfalls over slick rock, just below the glacier.

Blue water rivulets run off of Columbia Glacier.

Jumping over small crevasses.

Columbia Glacier, looking down towards Blanca Lake.

Greg on the ice flow.

Twin waterfalls, below the glacier.

Rock Garden.

Day 1

Day 2

Day 3

Day 4

Day 5

The long anticipated wait is over, Greg and I head for the far reaches of the North Cascades, for a 4 day loop in the North Cascades National Park, very near the Canadian Border. According to the GPS unit, it will be about 35 miles total, but at times it felt more like 55…It rises up from the trailhead to the highpoint on Copper Ridge, and snakes its way along the top of the ridge, then drops down to the Chilliwack river basin, to follow it back through old growth forest to the rejoining point of the loop at Boundary Camp, right on the park’s border. The weather was, well, not great for distant peak viewing, that I can tell you. Not so bad if you had webbed feet.
Day 1 Right after we grab a few hours sleep on Wednesday, we hit the road, heading for a campground near the trailhead. We’ve scouted them out and it looks like Silver firs is the closest to the trailhead, and not far from the town of Glacier. We’ve never been there before, and there is little information, but we did see a restaurant that had its own web presence, so we figured, “hey, if they’re on the internet…” it might be a good possibility for dinner. A little over 3 hours, and we’ve arrived at our destination, at Silver firs campground. The sites are along the banks of the North Fork Nooksack River. It’s a small campground, around 16 sites or so, and is reserveable. It’s one of the more primitive campgrounds we’ve stayed at, but it will do nicely for what we need. After securing our spot, we head for town for dinner, no longer able to ignore our grumbling stomachs. Back in town, we eat at the restaurant that we noticed on line, Grahams Restaurant, http://www.grahamsrestaurant.com/ . It’s an interesting place, with all kinds of knick-knacks to look at, and curiosities. No, I’m not talking about the people, simply the wall art and decorations. Eating our fill, we stop at the attached store, get some goodies for later, and something for breakfast, then head back to camp. It’s a good thing we’ve erected a tarp around our fire pit, for soon the rain starts, and we’re sheltered from the raindrops, while still being able to feel the effects of our cozy fire. After dark, Greg notices a furry creature darting around near our feet. He stays out of arms reach, until…The bag of chips we’ve opened and set on the bench between us becomes too much of a temptation for the little thief, and he scoots into our bag of chips to help himself. “HEY!” But it’s too late. He’s already running across the seat with his treasure firmly grasped in his mouth. The remains of the bag go in the fire, ruined. At least, we’ve still got our breakfast, and Doritos!!! Better put them in the car, or the little bugger will be in them, too. Now, Greg sits with rapt attention, an instrument of doom clutched in his hand, (small stick, just right for rapping little heads) ready to strike if the little offender returns. It’s not a long wait, for the lingering scent of potato chips must be like crack for the little rodent, and within minutes, he’s back for more. Only this time, Greg is waiting…”Thwack!” a quick swat, and the mouse is hurled from the bench, making a bee-line for the trees. That should persuade him to leave well enough alone…Soon, it’s time to retreat from the rain to the tent, and listen to the rain as it pelts the rainfly. Several times during the night, we awoke to the sound of “scritch, scritch, scritch!” as if the mouse were coming back for round two, sounded like he was trying to dig his way in from the corner of the tent. Beautiful, just freakin’ beautiful. I can only hope that we won’t discover a new mousie door in the tent floor…
Day 2 4458ft gain/2283ft loss. 11.72 miles. At least we get a bit of a break from the rain, and it stops in time for us to pack wet gear to the truck. It’s then that I realize I’ve made a bit of a mistake. Usually, I bring the clothes that I’m going to wear on the first day, in a bag, to be changed into on the morning of our hike. Well, that bag seems to be missing my clothes! In my rush to get out the door on time, I forgot to pack the first days clothes. And, these were expected to last for 2 days, so now, I’m left with two shirts and one pair of pants. On summer days, this would have been fine, but on a hike when we expected to get wet? Near tragedy, in my mind…So, I pack my jeans and socks that I wore here, not what I had in mind, but they would have to do… On my first load to the pick-up, I open the door, and mutter, “Greg, we’ve got a problem..” It seems the mice here are unrelenting! Our bag of goodies, (and breakfast!) had already been sampled by another mouse, and he was still going to town on our groceries when I opened the door. I was able to see him move from the bag to the seat, and with a smack of a trekking pole, he was rendered ready for burial. Made us wonder just how many more of the little creatures were still lurking about. I looked in our plastic bag, and all was ruined…There wasn’t a thing left unsampled, he even got into our Doritos!!! Perfect. Another bag of food headed for the dumpster, and we didn’t even get a taste! Mouse infested campsite behind us, we arrive at our trailhead at 8:30am, ready for a big day. The skies look uncooperative, gray and misty, with the threat of rain. I sure hope the weather clears enough so that we can get some pictures taken! The first mile or so is fairly flat, and it allows us to bomb along at a quick pace. As the incline increases, it’s still moderate, but now the view is towards the south, as the Nooksack Range looms large in our sight, bare glistening granite walls shine in the few rays of sunshine that reflect off the rock. The tops of the granite peaks aren’t visible, as the cloud cover is thick and low, hiding the tops from our line of view. Melting snow runs in long, ribbon cascades down the granite, creating a spectacular show of waterfalls. The roar from the falls echoes across the creek valley, to our side. The way up is a steady incline along the valley walls, and is cut through the steep talus fields created by slough-off from Granite Mt. above, overgrown with vine maple, just now starting to turn scarlet as fall rapidly approaches. You can feel its bite in the air. As we near the end of the valley, before turning steeply upward towards Hannegan Pass, we get some clear shots of Mt. Ruth, dominating the end of the valley, covered in permanent snow fields. From here, it looks fairly straight forward to summit, and from Hannegan Camp, located just below the pass, it looks readily accessible. For now, we’re content to continue our upward and onward slog. Once at Hannegan Pass, there is a confusing array of trails and signs, running everywhere! “Toilet” here, “Trail closed” signs there, and not a one pointing the way towards Copper Ridge, or Boundary Camp, the next expected campsite! Weird. So, we wander to the right, uphill, towards what looks like a way onto a ridgeline, and run into more trails running everywhere, just not the way that we had hoped…Looking at the GPS, it’s clear to see that this is not the way to Copper Ridge. The only bonus to all of it is, if we had not wandered up here, we would have missed the chance to see impressive Mt. Shuksan, and its spires and jagged peaks, looming up out of the dark cloud cover swirling around it. Back on trail, we head downhill, towards Boundary camp, and the left leg of our loop. From here, it’s a walk through old growth forest, with not much to see, the trail continuing it’s upward trend. Finally, we reach ridgeline, and through the ridge top meadows, we are able to see…Virtually nothing. Crap! I was hoping that we would be able to see more, but the clouds refuse to let us get a good peak at the mountain tops for most of the way to the Lookout. On a rare occasion, we get glimpses of icy topped Mineral Mountain, across the Chilliwack River basin. Just before we start the ascent to the Lookout, (for that is what it is, over 700ft up in a short distance), we can see a massive vertical drop off of the east side of Mineral Mt., covered impossibly in trees! It seems incredible that such a slope exists! This drop off, with the leading edge of Easy Ridge, creates the Easy creek drainage that feeds the Chilliwack River. The fog surrounds us as we zig-zag to the top of this rock pile to reach the lookout station, and the rain is now settling in. The shutters of the lookout are up around the windows, and I find great relief in huddling under their outstretched wings, providing some protection from the wet. We peer in at the dry abode of the lookout, like waifs left out in the cold, peering through store front windows at the warmth and dryness of those more fortunate than we. Where is the ranger? We can see a sleeping bag laid out on the bed, so there must be someone here. There, through the mist, comes a figure, and it’s the ranger, showing up within minutes of our arrival. We say hello, and the first thing she says to me is, “You’re wearing shorts”…As if I had absolutely no common sense at all…I find it hard to argue with that logic. She invites us in to take a look at a working lookout, and I welcome the chance to be somewhere dry, even if only for a brief moment. Once inside, we look at some of the old instruments they used to use for fire spotting, and she offers some hot tea. She also assures us that there are some incredible views from here, clear into Canada as well, but it’s hard to imagine with visibility limited to about 100ft or so…A remark, or two, is made about how steep it is up that last incline to the lookout, and she agreed, calling it, “ranger training hill”…We thank her for the hospitality, and continue downhill towards our campsite at Copper Lake. Freezing in the off and on again rain and wind, we make our way to the lakeshore, and look for a suitable campsite, one where we can pitch not only a tent, but a tarp, allowing us a dry staging and cooking area. Finding a site that will do, camp gets pitched and not a moment too soon, for the rain begins in earnest. Donning dry clothes and raingear, I feel almost human again. I’m no longer wearing shorts…A quick journey to the lakeshore to pump water for dinner, does not go unrewarded. Within minutes, it starts raining, and hailing, making loud staccato ticks on the surface of the water. Perfect! Good ol’ North Cascades…This does nothing to brighten my mood. Water bottles filled, we head back to camp. Huddling under the tarp, we prepare dinner, and have an awesome feast! (see the recipe page to be added…) I will call this one, “Summer Sausage in Parmesan Noodles, with zesty mushrooms!” How’s that for a title??? Trust me, after an 11.5 mile day in this weather, flavored cardboard would have been tasty…During the night, in the warm confines of the tent, we are assailed once again by rain and hail, pelting the outside of our little shelter. North Cascades, baby…
Day 3. 837ft gain/37118ft loss. 7.6 miles. What goes up, must come down. Down, like a meteor streaking earthward from the heavens, down. Like falling off the top of the Empire State building, down like a runaway freight train off a cliff, down…You get the picture. We awake to a crisp 38 degree day, shrouded in clouds again, and the drenching from last night has soaked all the brush here on ridgeline. It may not be raining right now, but might as well be, for walking through the wet huckleberry and heather that lines the trail, no, encroaches upon it, is the same as turning a garden hose on, and spraying yourself with it. Beating the brush with the trekking poles helps, and every time you take a whack at it, you are rewarded with a large spray of soaking water. Real nice. The likelihood that this is going to improve my outlook any at all has approached the million to one shot now. With my outlook meter pegged at “bleak”, we continue the up and down then up and down as the trail follows the top of ridgeline, me hacking at brush with every step. Thanks, North Cascades… Rounding a point on the ridge, we drop down into heather and rock filled meadows, very pretty even in the gathering fog and mist. Reminds me of pictures that I’ve seen of the Scottish Moors…. As soon as we reach it, we are rewarded with a quick break in the clouds that allows us views of Bear and Indian Mt. We continue our descent to the river bottom, and before we reach the switchbacks that will carry us to the rivers’ edge, we hear something large going through the brush in front of us. Crossing the trail about 30 yards in front , a large black bear goes crashing through the wet brush, heading pell-mell downhill like a runaway steam roller, water flying in the air as the underbrush gives way to his headlong descent. No time to take a picture, he’s gone within seconds…Well, at least we got to see him. The constant switchbacks get us to the river about as quickly as possible. Seems the only way quicker to the bottom would be a toboggan run…Knees and ankles complaining more than me, it’s a relief to see something flat for a change, even if it is river bottom. The trail ends unceremoniously at the river’s edge, and there is foot prints leading left and right from here, probably looking for a dry way across. Nope. Not to be. Freakin’ North Cascades! So, we pull off our boots, (Almost crossed with boots on, our feet were already so damp from beating the wet brush), and crossed in bare feet. It looked shallow here, and fairly narrow, but in bare feet in ice cold water, the rocks underfoot seemed sharp and pointed, intent on drawing blood and pain from our tender soles. That “short” walk seemed to go on forever, and it was a welcome relief to finally reach the opposite banks. Pulling wet socks and boots back on, we go another 100 yards or so, and…Another river crossing??!!! Are you kidding me??! North Cascades!!! This time, there is a little bit more intent on finding a way across that does not include bare feet. It’s at this point, after studying the water a little more closely, that we spot several salmon that have arrived to spawn, their sides a scarlet red. Very pretty, against the blue water. Greg and I both find ways across the river, and the log that I take has several bear claw grooves, looking every bit like one of those sliding, scratching, trying to hang on before hitting the drink type of skid marks. Safely across, it’s not long before we reach our next camp at Indian Creek, and we are the only ones here. We pick the best spot, and set about finding firewood, as it’s permissible to build small campfires in the provided fire rings. A welcome relief it will be to get warm, and dry wet boots and clothes by the fire. Within 45 minutes we have enough tinder for the evening, and set about building a nice fire. Later, we would build a drying rack for our soggy belongings. Dinner, then a relaxing time spent around a warm fire before turning in. It was so nice to be near a fire and get dry after two soaking days. The camp here along the river basin is set in old growth forest, so there’s not much to see. At least, there are no mice here to bother us…
Day 4 1890ft gain/127ft loss. 7.6 miles. You would think, spending the entire day hiking along a river basin, that the day would be relatively smooth, with little gain, or loss in elevation. But, please remember where you are…North Cascades…You should see the elevation profile. The chart looks like a wild day on the stock market, with gains and losses measured in the 100’s within minutes of each other, only this chart is measured in feet, not points. Looks like the spiky back of a Stegosaurus, A real rollercoaster, and, as we’ve discovered on this hike, there are innumerable ups and downs to keep things, well… Interesting. Yep. You guessed it…Freakin’ North Cascades…Packing camp, and hoping against all hope that we get another site that serves us so well, with an ample supply of dry wood, we begin our sojourn again, and within minutes we come to a roaring creek crossing. This time, there will be no tootsie dunking, as there is a cool suspended foot bridge over the rapids here, giving you a bird’s eye view of the source of all the noise, a very pretty waterfall churning down through a tumbled boulder field, the spray of water creating moss on the rocks. Greg ventures out first, and it’s a heart sinking first drop, as you step onto the bridge, your foot sinks almost a foot, as the bridge yields to your weight. It’s an odd feeling, let me tell you, and the bridge sways to and fro, urging you to hang on for dear life…Watching Greg cross over, it reminds me of the college years, for it looks as if he’s in a drunken stupor, careening from one side to the next, holding onto the wire railing, until he’s safely on the other bank...It’s my turn, and the bridge seems to groan under my weight, and I resist the urge to run across, fearing I’ll be pitched overboard, like a used up apple core, tossed carelessly out a car window…Feet firmly on the other side, we see the reason for the “lively” walk. One of the turnbuckles, that helps steady the footbridge is so loose it moves up and down at least six inches…Nope, not gonna say it this time….You know what I was thinking... Still, we’re happy to cross with dry feet. Having grown up in the Pacific Northwest, one thing I’m used to, is rain forest, especially since I’m a coastie, and this meander through old growth reminds me of home. And why I like being above treeline…There’s not much to see other than old growth giants, some of the biggest cedars I’ve seen in some time. It doesn’t take long until I’m bored, so I look down, instead of up, and I start looking for the illusive wild mushroom, the tasty, savory, kind. As a youngster, we spent many a rainy afternoon looking for prized delicacies, like the Hedgehog, Chanterelle, King Boletus, and several others that thinking about now make my mouth water. Sure enough, all the wet, moss covered, thick duff, create an awesome spawning ground for the magical fruit…Unfortunately, there are tons of mushrooms that aren’t good to eat, and I’ve seen few of the variety that I’m looking for, but no matter…It’s something that keeps my mind occupied, as we ride the rollercoaster trail. Occasionally, we get a clearing, and the weather is, for the moment, giving us a break, and we can look uphill towards Copper Ridge, and see the terrain we crossed over yesterday, before plunging back into the folds of forest. The sound of rushing water can be heard once again as we approach Brush Creek. There’s a nice footbridge over the creek, and we’re constantly surprised to see them, given what we’ve been over and through already. Much of the trail, as soon as it enters a clearing, is overgrown with huckleberry brush, and in some places, the trail seems almost non-existent, almost as if it were an afterthought. Brush Creek is pretty, and seems to fit this place well, as it’s boulders are large and moss covered, with fallen trees jammed between the rocks in places, like someone breaking a toothpick off between teeth. Another tree covered mile, and we come to a trail junction, and turn left to use the cable car. We have read about this, and decide we’d like to try it, instead of the river ford. It’s something neither one of us have yet seen on a trail, and it wplatforms out of large beams, create a launch and landing pad on either side of the river, and the aluminum trolley car rides on a steel cable stretched from one side to the other. To operate it, you pull yourself across with a nylon rope on a pulley system. As soon as one arrives on the other side, then you pull the empty car back and launch yourself. The cable is about 30-35 feet off the river’s surface, and we both have fun pulling ourselves across, stopping in the middle to take pictures and gawk. A nice respite from the view blocking trees. Finally!!! We see something worth having! A fresh combs tooth mushroom! It looks like a coral, but has spiny teeth on it, and it’s a beautiful white color, devoid of bugs. I can’t believe our luck! These are incredibly tasty, and we pick it to add to our dinner for later…The hours of looking and looking finally pay off! It’s not long, and we find a couple more specimens, still about the size of a childs fist, but added together, we have close to a pound of delactables! I can’t wait…Further along the trail, we come to a very ambitious, and busy Beaver. In fact, he has to be a regular lumber jack, the size of tree that he’s been working on next to the trail is over 20” in diameter! I don’t believe I’ve ever seen a beaver tackle a tree this size. It’s still standing, but there is a noticeable lean going on. We can see his lodge in the small pond he’s created here by the river. It’s amazing, because there’s no way he’s going to haul this monster tree down to his dam. If anything, when this 60 foot tree falls, it’s going to smash everything in its path on the way to the ground. We wonder what in the world he’s up to...It’s near the trailhead to US camp, on the banks of the Chilliwack river. Shortly past this camp, we reach the site that we’ve “reserved” for the night, at Copper Creek. Again, we’re the only people here, and we’ve not seen a soul now for two days. I can’t imagine why…We set about camp chores, setting up the tent and tarp, then collecting wood for another welcome fire. We arrive early enough today, to wander down the Copper Creek drainage to the Chilliwack River, but here, near it’s headwaters, it’s not much more than a small stream. We’ve brought a fishing pole with us to try out for the first time, and we make a few half-hearted attempts at some of the thigh deep holes here, but, it seems obvious that there are no fish here. Back at camp, we start our blaze, and prepare a nice meal, creamy noodles with chicken chunks, and wild mushroom. What an awesome flavor they brought to our humble little meal. Dinner is barely over, and the rains set back in, and spoil our reverie near the fire. Add a little wind to drive some of the rain in below the edge of our hastily thrown tarp, and, well…We got North Cascaded again. Drat! Reluctantly, we turn in a little earlier than planned, for another rain filled night.
Day 5 2086ft gain/1986ft loss. 7.62 miles. Today, we head out. All we have to do is hike uphill to Hannigan Pass, and then it’s all downhill from there. We pack wet belongings, and hit the trail. There is a light rain, or mist, that starts to send us off on our journey home, and at this point, I expect nothing less. In fact, I don’t even bother donning rain gear this time, just wear my shorts and shirt, resigned to the fact that I’m going to be sweaty, wet, and cold as soon as we start our climb uphill, so why fight it? It’s an uneventful hike out, as the gray cover obscures everything from view, and all we’re left with is the sound of wet boots slogging through slop, broken up only occasionally by the sniffling of a cold nose that I won’t shake until we get back to the truck. We take bets, wondering where we’ll see our first people, if any along the way, and we think it will be from Hannegan Pass onward, certainly not on this part of the trail. The rain is constant, and by the time I reach the pass, I’m completely drenched, looking every bit like a drowned rat. I have Greg take my picture, so I won’t forget how I felt that day. It’s a balmy 45 degrees out, but I don’t notice, being slightly overheated coming up hill, and probably a little acclimated to the temp, given our last few days out. It’s only one of five pictures taken on this day, since it’s so wet, we don’t want to ruin our cameras. That, and you can only take so many pictures of things obscured…#$*& North Cascades…A half hour from the car, we run into 2 couples on their way in, still fresh, to the point you can still smell shampoo, and they’re covered head to toe in raingear, warm and dry, I’m sure…We stop and talk to them, as they are the first people we’ve seen in 3 days, to find out where they’re going, where they’re from, etc..They ask us a few questions, and we find out that they are from Wisconsin and Michigan, and will be out for about a week. They also tell us that by Tuesday, the as amazing to see it out here. Massive weather is supposed to be better, so they will be able to see the things that were hidden from us…Oh, yeah…North Cascades…We make mention of the fact, that every time we come to the north, we face the same kind of weather, and it’s beginning to give us a complex. They suggest it may have something to do with us, and could we please hurry and leave, and take this foul weather with us? We say our goodbyes, wondering if they were joking, and make the remaining easy trek back to the truck. Seeing them all covered up to avoid the rain, I was wondering…They probably thought I was a complete nut job, soaked, standing around in nothing but a summer tee, and shorts. At least, I wasn’t overheated…Back at the truck, it’s a mad dash to strip out of water logged clothes and boots, and get in something dry. Oh, what a relief! 
Sitting at home, writing this in the comfort of a warm house, with all the attendant comforts of living indoors, it’s possible that I’ve lost some of the essence of what it was like on this trek, as I write from memory. It’s also likely that some of the emotion, wonder, disappointment, and just plain frustration with the weather and lost hope of not seeing all that this hike would offer on a clear day, is lost, vanishing like a puff of smoke on a windy day. It seems likely, given my memory, that I won’t recall, or have selectively blocked out a lot of what I was feeling, just ask anyone that really knows me. However, one thing that will not be forgotten, or lost to the obscurity of time, is a new epithet that is now forever added to my vocabulary. North Cascades. Let me explain why this term now has such significance in the hallowed halls of Dave’s verbiage. You see, it seems that on every hike that we’ve ever ventured into the North Cascades, we’ve dealt with rain. Thunder Creek? Check. Got rained on hard, on that one. How about our foray into Monte Cristo, and Twin Lakes. Yep. Wet again. Not to mention cloud cover that obscured some of the distant peaks. Sound familiar? And, here we are again. So, North Cascades has a new meaning, for me…Let’s say you got passed over for that promotion you had been hoping for. “Oh, man, you got North Cascaded on that one, Bob.” Or, say your parachute fails to open, and you know you are so North Cascaded, that all you can think of on the way to a sudden stop, is, “NOOOOOOOOOOORRRRRTTTTHHHHH CAAAAAAAAAAAASCAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAADEE EESSSSS!!!” And, just in case the point is missed, remember when it was Christmas, and all you wanted was that BB gun, and instead, all you got were socks, and some other forgettable tinker toys? “Dude. You got so North Cascaded!” So, I guess some of the feelings and emotions managed to make it home, perhaps stuffed into my wet clothes that were oh so gleefully jammed into my drenched pack.

Hannegan Pass Trailhead

Pyramid shaped peak on Nooksack Ridge

Solid granite dominates along the Nooksack Ridge, covered in snow fields

Dave ambles along trail that follows the Ruth Creek drainage

Ruth Mt., near Hannegan Pass camp

Mt. Shuksan barely visible through the clouds...

Greg enjoys a rare moment with sun, backside of Hannegan Pass.

Copper Ridge, above Egg Lake

Egg Lake

Between the rain showers, we get a quick peek of Mineral Mt.

Narrow point on ridge, just below the lookout tower

Copper Lake, between the hail and rain...

Shelter from the storm.

Spawning Salmon on the Chilliwack River

Greg relaxes near a much needed fire...

Profile of “walk” along the Chilliwack River...

Suspension bridge over Indian Creek

Pretty waterfall on Indian creek.

Deepwoods signpost, mileage to everywhere, near Brush Creek.

Another welcome sign, a great footbridge over Brush Creek.

Cool cable car ferries us to the opposite banks of Chilliwack River.

Fall colors start to emerge along the river, with Mineral Mt in the background.

Beaver pond, with lodge evident in middle right.

Trying our hand at fishing...Unsuccessfully, I might add...

Dave cooks up some Comb tooth mushroom...Yum!

Day 1

Day 2

Our last overnighter for the season, and it feels as if the door is being slammed shut on the hiking season…With cooler temps, rain, and fog during most of the season, it feels as if summer never really arrived. Or, if it did, it was a whirlwind affair, just breezing through between the seasons. This last hike will include Brian, his dog, Merci, and I, for an overnighter into the Norse Peak Wilderness, for a loop hike that will pass many lakes. And miles…Unbeknownst to us at the time, as I “miscalculated” the total mileage for this trip.
Day 1 3300ft gain/315ft loss. 8 miles. Since this is so close to home, we were able to leave the house around 9:00am, and still arrive at the trailhead a little after 10:00am. Nice! The weather is promising to improve, (at least according to the weatherman), even though the day is starting out cool, damp, and gray. A few showers pelt the windshield on the way to the trail, and we hope this isn’t indicative of what’s to come…The beginning of the hike is smooth, and the trail winds through old growth forest in a gradual uphill to the first lakes along this trek, Greenwater Lakes, a duo of small proportions, that are popular in the summer, for their close proximity to the trailhead, and shallow depths, easily heated by the sun. Today, however, they are vacant, and the only sound we hear is the call of songbirds. At the farthest of the two lakes, there are several log footbridges that span the Greenwater River, that feed the lakes, and beyond. It’s more of a creek, really, but after the last foot bridge before continuing up, are pretty rapids cascading down over moss covered rocks, a theme that will repeat itself all along its length. Much of the trail, until the “Y” intersection where we bear right towards Lost Lake, will follow its meandering path, and if not visual contact, then definitely within earshot. After the right turn, the way continues upwards, at a moderate pace, and there still isn’t much to see except the trees, and the occasional mushroom dotting the sides of the trail. I keep my eyes peeled for edibles, and it helps to curb the boredom. Since Brian and I are going on 2 hours sleep, it’s a challenge to keep the mind focused on what we’re doing. We trudge onward like zombies to Lost Lake. Once we reach its shores, we drop our packs, and eat something, needing a quick break. Lost Lake is calm, and its smooth surface reflects the surrounding hillsides, the image broken occasionally by a fish going airborne momentarily. Small ringlets spread out to mark the spot like a bull’s-eye where the fish made its re-entry. Looking skyward, we are glad to see that the weather seems to be clearing, and an occasional sliver of blue pokes out from under the blanket of gray sky. Hopefully, the trend will continue. Shouldering our loads once again, we follow the trail to the far end of the lake, and then begin a more challenging hike upwards, for the next 1.2 miles it continues relentlessly up, to gain the top of the ridgeline. Forest gives way to sparser alpine firs, huckleberry brush, and bear grass in abundance. The clearings provide us an opportunity to look further, towards the opposite ridge, turning golden colors to indicate the changing of the seasons. Finally, we top out on the Noble Knob ridgeline, and even under cloud cover, we can see for miles northward, towards the spiny ridgelines along the North Cascades range, snow covering many of the higher mountains still. Looking west from our location here, the dominant rock formation sticking up like a hitchhikers thumb is the namesake for this ridge, Noble Knob. We’re getting close now! Planning from home, using Google Earth, and poring over map detail, it appears there was a small lake just over a saddle at the base of the knob that looked promising for our nights’ stay, called George Lake. There is no official trail, but I had was sure that those who had gone before us, would have beaten some kind of path to its shoreline. I marked possible ways down on the GPS unit, and as soon as we neared our first “POI”, we could see that this was close to the low point of the saddle. So, up we went, and from the top of the saddle, we weren’t disappointed. Below us, was a small alpine lake, ringed by crimson berry brush, and green trees. Very beautiful. From its bowl, you could see the prominent features of northern mountains, pinnacles of sharp peaks that just seemed to brush the lower cloud level, it seemed as if the clouds were just a little lower, they would have been torn open, like a tire on a spike strip.There was a trail leading down to the water’s edge, and it was easy to follow, only it wasn’t fellow hikers that had blazed the trail, it was elk. Obviously, this was a favorite haunt of theirs, off the beaten path, the trail a series of hoof prints, beating out a dirt track through the shrubbery. Once at the water’s edge, we could see that people had camped here before, fire rings at the prime spots and logs set around them, to provide fireside seats. A small spit of rock juts out in the middle of the lake, creating a kidney shape, and it was on this point, that we made camp. Our weary feet and backs were relieved to drop the load. The lake is shallow, at its deepest it might come up to chest level, but the majority of the lake is no more than 3 feet deep. I take several pictures, wanting to capture the blazing reds and yellows of fall reflected off the surface of the lake. With no wind, it’s as smooth as glass, and creates a perfect mirror. At first, I’m delighted to see fish jumping, (since I finally brought a pole), so I wet some gear, in hopes of landing the big one…After twenty casts, and closer scrutiny of the jumpers, it’s obvious that they are so small, the lure I’m using might be as big as they are. Foiled again. We tend to bigger matters now, like securing firewood, and pitching camp. Brian has to watch Merci with an eagle eye, for she constantly wants to wade into the water. She minds well, but any unwatched opportunity, she’s looking to get wet. We’re done eating by 6:30 or so, and start a fire, as the temperatures starting to drop, and the wind’s beginning to pick up. We fight sleep until 9:00, watching the comforting flames consume our ration of firewood, (ok, more like dead sticks and branches), until we can fight it no longer, and turn in. The 3 of us are kept company by the windblown fly that rattles the tent, and the full moon. It’s like sleeping under a street light. No worries, though, we’re glad to see clear skies, and are hopeful that tomorrow will bring more of the same.
Day2 1227ft gain/4189ft loss. 15.25 miles. Yes, that’s right. 15.25 miles. I wouldn’t really realize it though, until I was home, and downloaded the GPS data. I knew it was a long day, (we spent 7 hours hiking without stopping, never once dropping our packs), for I felt hobbled once we finally arrived back at the truck. I practically threw my pack into the back of his truck, wanting nothing more than to be rid of its weight.
Blue sky! Amazing, really, I have a hard time remembering when I awoke to blue sky this year in the backcountry! There, atop the ridgeline, was the full moon, not having completely disappeared yet below the ridgeline, and I get some good pictures of the moon before it dips down out of sight. We eat breakfast, break camp, and head back the way we came. This time, we follow the game trail until it crosses the trail, making for an easier descent. The ridgeline here is resplendent in scarlet hues, mixed with gold’s, and it creates a patchwork quilt of colors, the early morning sun lighting it up as if it were on fire. Very beautiful, and it covers most of the open ground along the ridgeline here, until we reach our trail junction that takes us along the backside of the connecting ridgeline between Noble Knob, and Mutton Mt. Once again, we enter trees, but it’s a flat hike for the next mile or so. Peeking through the trees, we can see the mountain is out, fresh snow adorns its flanks and against the cloudless blue sky, it’s an impressive sight, we’re close enough to see all the crevasses in the glaciers. The trail here is well maintained, and soft dirt is welcome underfoot. We reach another trail junction, and it’s here that we get full on, unobstructed views of Mt. Rainier to our southwest. It’s a rare day to see it out like this, and I make sure to get as many shots of it as I can. The trail takes us along the backside of Mutton Mt. and we pass at least 20 or 30 people, taking full advantage of the beautiful views. It’s Saturday, and one can drive to corral pass, making this an easy day hike, for there is little elevation gain/loss from here to the pass. Again, the bright, fiery reds are stark contrast against the blue sky, and pristine white of the mountain. Once past Corral Pass, we really begin our downhill and it switchbacks down to the beginnings of Greenwater River, Lost Lake collects the tributaries that flow out of the valleys above, to help form its beginnings. The trail follows the river as it flows downstream from there, collecting steam as it continues to be fed from small streams flowing down clefts in the wooded ridgelines above us. It’s hard to see, as this part of the trail is through dense old growth. The first real clearing we see, since our descent from Corral Pass, is at Echo Lake, a large woodland lake, with grassy fields at the southern edge. Stock use this trail as well, so there is a horse camp around the middle of the lake, at the northern edge, is a small backpacker’s camp. We never once encountered bikes, or horses on this trip, and from Corral Pass, to here, not one other backpacker, either. We continue our downward trek through old growth forest, occasionally meeting up with the river, for the next 3.34 miles. By the time we reach the “Y”, and our final stretch home, I’m exhausted already, not realizing the amount of miles we’ve already travelled. Now, it’s just a mindless hump to get home, concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other. By the time we reach the truck, (as I said before), I thought my legs were going to fall off, and I could not wait to get the pack off of my back. Even Merci, who constantly ran back and forth, running out ahead, then back to Brian, looked bushed. Within minutes of climbing in the truck, she was racked out.
It was a great hike, even including the exhaustion. The fact that we got to see some pretty country along with great weather, (for a change), only helped to highlight this hike. And, it gave me some new ideas on where to go, for there are many trails and ridgelines to explore in this part of the Snoqualmie-Mt. Baker national forest.

First of the Greenwater Lakes

Waterfall on Greenwater River.

Lost Lake

From the pass below Noble Knob, looking down into George Lake

Noble Knob above George Lake

Peaceful camp on the shores of George Lake

Spectacular views of Mt. Rainier

The beautiful foreground colors of fall highlight Mt. Rainier.

Echo Lake reflections.

Forest waterfall, on Greenwater River.

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