5 days’ freedom and perfect weather amid world-class scenery and peaking wildflowers. No need to carry water; abundant everywhere. High Pass is still all snow; ice ax required, crampons too if it freezes hard; Spider Gap likewise. Much more snow than usual, rendering the landscape more beautiful and varied, and the travel easier if you are skilled at alpine snow travel. Bugs more abundant than normal. I did not treat any water. I’ll post a followup if I get sick.
Future readers: 2011 is a record-snowpack year; water, snow, flower, and insect conditions described here are more like late July-early August, and bear no resemblance to ordinary Septembers (dry, no bugs, no flowers, carry water).
My guess: weekend of Sept 10, 2011 should still be amazing for flowers.

DANGER, PLEASE NOTE: I brought crampons, not strictly necessary WHEN THE SNOW WAS SOFT, but taking them was a good call: if it freezes hard –- it soon will -- they will be necessary, and ice ax too of course. On the trail south of Buck Pass east of Pt. 7276, and on High Pass itself, I saw several people equipped with nothing more than poles and light hiking shoes crossing steep snow that I considered lethally dangerous. Yes, it was soft and easy; yes, there were steps; yes, many other people had crossed safely, but these people were oblivious to the fact that they were on deadly terrain. I watched a young couple with light shoes, single poles, and a dog, crossing several steep snow tongues on the east (Buck Creek) side of the High Pass trail that I wouldn't dream of crossing without an ice ax, alert. The runouts were 100+' onto steep scree and boulders. I broke my ankle in more forgiving ground. PLEASE! Whenever you venture out onto snow, LOOK DOWN. Where are you gonna land if you slip? How fast are you gonna be going? You think you're gonna arrest yourself with a hiking pole? Forget it! My ice ax and training didn't do me any good. I only went 20'. 20' more, and I'd be dead. It happens JUSTLIKETHAT. Whenever you venture onto snow, especially hard snow, think: Mouse. Cheese. Trap! Don't make us read about you in the paper.

Expect hunters:
The Chiwawa region is a favorite of hunters ancient and modern. Bear season starts Aug. 1 (remember the Sauk Mt. tragedy). High Buck Hunt in this area is Sept 15-25 this year, if I have it right. Be aware of this. Get yourself some safety-orange gear. Good time for a hike in a national park.
http://wdfw.wa.gov/hunting/regulations/hunter_orange/
http://wdfw.wa.gov/publications/01184/wdfw01184.pdf

Little Giant Pass:
Ford is unusually deep for Sept: almost knee-deep. Bring old shoes to throw back across (weight with rocks). A wooden stick is nice. Between Chiwawa R and Little Giant Pass, a thorough trail crew has done everything but bridge the river. Nice job, thanks. Even in much drier conditions, there is water at the bottom of the high meadows.

Little Giant Pass to Napeequa:
brushy, steep, but serviceable, easy to follow; it's been the PCT detour.

Napeequa valley:
Lovely, but I'd never want to camp here in bug season. I’ve always seen bears and/or bear hunters in this general area. Unmaintained, but not enough trees for blowdown problems.
The usual route to High Pass crosses N. Fork Napeequa and ascends to the lovely hanging valley in a steep but short, moderate bushwhack. Nice camp at the outfall.

Louis Creek High Route to High Pass:
We took the Louis Creek High Route to High Pass. The ascent to the hanging valley of upper Louis Creek is very steep meadow, ice ax all the way (yes, on steep dry meadow). Amazingly, the 25 lb. dog could do it (minor help). I would not ask a dog to go down this way; descending is much harder on their backs. Start a few hundred meters left of Louis Creek. It's almost all alder-free. Night 1 at the Berge-Buck col amid larches on a pumice dome. The whole unusual landscape is blanketed in Glacier Peak pumice.

Al claims first ascent of Buck Mt. by a tricolored Pembroke Welsh corgi on a September Saturday without supplemental oxygen. It's an easy scramble. Try to do it in conditions like this, with lots of snow – if you can still ford the Chiwawa. Or try it on 6" legs.

High route from Buck Mt. across Berge col to High Pass is fairly straightforward (in good viz; see photo) and the snow cover makes it easier (ice ax required, as always). From the col south of Berge (the summit SW of marked Pt. 7948), drop SW, then W to 6800’, then traverse N as high as possible just under the rock buttress guarding the High Pass outfall. This year only, there’s so much snow that with ice ax/crampons, it looked like one could climb this steep 6840’-to-7040’ section above the High Pass outfall on snow, a straight NW–SE line from Berge col to High Pass outfall. I did not do this.

High Pass:
Night 2, solo bivvy site on sand and rock right at the top, grand view in calm weather, Napeequa and Glacier Pk right in your lap. Also a very exposed windy tent site in the notch to the south, sand, fairly low-impact. Don’t mess this place up. No trace.
I weenied on Napeequa Peak – looked too much for the dog – that’s not all I blame on my scapedog.
High Pass is all snow this year. Triad Lake is not even fully melted out yet. I used crampons here, maybe not strictly necessary if you’re good on snow – it was getting soft – but had it been hard, crampons would have been necessary.
I saw people crossing with hiking poles, almost certainly unaware of the danger. There’s a steep spot there. I crossed it last year with mountaineering boots and a bamboo pole, and it was scary, steep runout onto rocks. Although it can sometimes be almost snow-free by September, this place is an accident waiting to happen.

Mt. Cleator 7625’:
A 10-15’ walkup from the south end of High Pass. Not to be missed.

Pt. 7276:
Also a fine view. Take it easy with your feet, don’t trash it.

High Pass to Buck Pass:
Allow lots of time for this even when meadow flowers are not peaking; world-class views east and west slow you down more than blackberry thickets. This area was one of A.H. Sylvester’s favorite places, for a reason. If you go to Buck Pass, DO NOT SKIP THIS. Go south as far as you can, but don’t cross the steep snow E of Pt. 7276 unless you know you know what you’re doing.

Middle Ridge Sheep Camp:
This place gets dry in September, so I loaded 5 L of water at Small Creek, and humped it up past stream after stream after stream until I dumped it in disgust at the sheep meadow amid rushing brooks and waterfalls. There’s a 5-star campsite at the 6400’ saddle, but the higher you go, the better it gets. Follow the fence of trees to 6480’, 6700’, 6800’. The views get better, the campsites smaller.
From the sheep camp meadow, we went gingerly straight NE up lush steep meadows to the lip of the moraine at 7400’, 2-star campsite with 5-star view and nice rock furniture (just S of an obvious huge sloping flat rock). We spurned this for a 0-star climber’s bivvy on top of the 7530’ knob (oval contour on the 7.5’ topo) with a 6-star view (5-star scale) of Berge to Shuksan, Glacier Peak right in our face. No water; melted snow <kindly restrain your laughter>. Warm, dead calm, no tent, utterly clear, early moonset, dark enough to see Andromeda Galaxy with naked eye, one of the best nights ever, higher than Helmet Butte. Hunters at the 6350’ sheep meadow had a fire on a night when I scarcely zipped up the sleeping bag at 7500’. Go figure. They were shooting in the morning.
Check this out if you like high country. Just a steep walk. Lip of the moraine in a magnificent cirquelet between two nearly 8300’ towers. This is Pt. 8297, the unnamed(?) NW spur of Fortress – the stupendous thing you see from Miners’ Ridge Trail or the PCT. West of the divide, it would be a major peak. You’ll not forget this place. It faces SW, looking right up the upper Suiattle valley to Tenpeak and the Kololos. See photo.
I didn’t look closely, but there might be a way around the knife-edge cleaver to the SE at maybe 7200, possibly ascend NE to the 8200’ ridge from there. That’s for climbers.
"East of the Divide", Chester Marler; he talks about the sheep herding and lots of other neat stuff. "Tales of a Western Mountaineer", C.E. Rusk.

Miners’ Ridge Trail:
Just above the cabin ruin, find the miners’ trail that climbs rightward. This will take you to the main adit, still open, very dangerous loose mine-dump terrain. Bright blue-green-turqouise copper minerals lying about. There are also 3 filled shafts or adits due N of the cabin ruin. See the 7.5’ USGS Suiattle Pass topo. All portable artifacts already stolen, but please take no souvenirs.

Cloudy Pass:
Night 4 at the pass, 6440'. Bugs (!) at dusk, dawn, but vanished with cool breeze at night (I had no bug net; this was our lowest camp). There is water just below the pass on either side. No significant snow, trail well-maintained, some beautiful rock work. One year, I humped water up here from Lyman Lake, only to find water flowing in the dry-looking meadow SW of Cloudy Peak (campsite there).
A better choice: climb high on the SW shoulder of Cloudy Pk, as high as you can go. There is a small bivvy site up there with jawdropping views of Glacier Peak, Dome, North Cascades, Bonanza, Chiwawas. Cloudy Pk is a walkup scramble except for a Class 3-4 dog-unfriendly chimney at the top. Remember, dogs are stupid about rockfall.

Lyman Lake:
I took a photo of the trail sign at the junction, didn’t read it, and took the wrong turn. Trail to upper Lyman looks like a social trail, compared to what you’re used to at this point.
Then I did it again.

Spider Gap:
NW side, snow from about 6500’ to top. Soft snow, might be difficult if hard, but runout seemed OK and not too steep. I used crampons for traction on the ascent, not really necessary. S side, all snow to the knob camp at the Spider Glacier terminus. NOTE: the place to hang out is not Spider Gap, but the level 6960’ ridge SE of it, less than 200’ lower than the gap, like a North Cascades version of Canyonlands overlooking the huge Phelps Ck cirque.
Somebody took a sh!t on the rocks right at the best viewpoint at Spider Gap, so I got to clean it up. C'mon, you're not gonna start a forest fire if you burn your buttwipe at 7200'. If you can't burn it (SAFELY) or pack it out, stay home, I'm tired of you. At that barren elevation, it can be best to do a "desert smear" on a south-facing rock and let the sun bake it -- but don't do this at one of the most popular spots in the sate, OK?

Phelps Creek:
At the first stream below Leroy Ck, note the concrete mining ruin, maybe the foundation for a Pelton wheel powerplant? I believe there are two adits on the other side of the river. I think the Glacier Peak Mines (on Plummer Mt) and the Red Mt Mine (Trinity) are discussed in "Discovering Washington’s Historic Mines", Oso Publishing, vol. 2 – the one I don’t have yet. Recommended.

Phelps Creek TH back to Little Giant:
A 4-6 mi. road walk, stretch those tired legs, kinda nice with a moon and a dog. One might stash a bike at Phelps Creek TH.

Beats a leash walk around the neighborhood.

Glacier Peak Loop. 8 Two-Dog nights with only one dog.
Mostly lazy days, late starts and early camps.

DAY 1 9/4 Lost Creek Ridge.
Locked in to vacation schedule. 80 deg F. in Seattle the previous day. Weather moving in, cool, overcast, good for climbing with a load. Stash pack at TH, park @ N Fk Sauk #649, car empty, unlocked, bike back. Trail in good shape. Maintenance stops at Round Lake, this shows immediately, progress slows.
Spoke 7 bear hunters; glad to have my day-glo hat and safety vest (weighs nothing) since my rain gear is all black (I found it, wouldn't have bought black clothing). The hot-pink/baby-blue anorak seemed suddenly less ugly. Orange pack. Camped on barren sand flats on divide between Camp & Byrne Lakes, 200m visibility.

DAY 2 9/5 Lost Creek Ridge to Kennedy Hot Springs, Kennedy Ridge Tr #639 to Pumice Ck on PCT.
Start delayed by rain and sticking snow. Portentous. Intermittent showers all day. Wet brush, soaked.
Trail rough below Lake Byrne for a few hundred feet; smooth after it drops into forest. Some blowdown but not a major obstacle. White Chuck crossing is straightforward (see my 9/26/09 report) although we used the barked double logs this time. Cairned. Easy big level logs but high, very serious current, no place to fall. Several choices. Naughty dog broke his stay and crossed unaided while I was getting out the belay gear. Slightly easier logs over Kennedy Ck.
Good campsite at the confluence, east side, small clean stream.
Kennedy Ridge Tr is unsigned but hard to miss; I thought it was a social trail at first. Interesting trail: it follows the crest of a sharp ridge between Glacier and Kennedy creeks. Insignificant obstacles.
PCT to Fire Ck Pass is brushy, wet. Privvy and presumably campsites at Glacier Ck. We camped at Pumice Ck.

Day 3 9/6 PCT over Fire Ck Pass, Milk Ck, to E Fk Milk Ck basin.
Snow less than 100' above us in the morning. Decided to bag it and retreat to Red Pass if rain continued, but a dry sucker-pocket morning lured us over Fire Creek Pass. Once committed, the rain began in earnest. No views at all, wind and rain.
Darrington has done magnificent, immense trail work between Fire Ck Pass and Milk Ck: blasting, rock work, logouts, retread, brushing, the works. Would've been discouraged without this. Heartbreaking elevation loss to Milk Creek. The new PCT bridge across upper Milk Creek is impressive: steel I-beams, 2 spans. Milk Ck Tr #790 is still unmaintained below the PCT; sign says "no bridge over Suiattle R". On the E side Stairmaster climb, the brushing stops at about switchback 24 (there are 44), enabling one to appreciate what they did for you. This is a long, tiring, serious climb with a load. Campsite at the ridge crest, but no water.
Camped with some tree shelter in the E Fork Milk Creek basin, soaked. First water past Milk Creek.

2-Dog-Night With Only 1 Dog Technique:
I brought a down bag. What was I THINKING?! I wasn't thinking. By Night 3, I had a wet bivvy sack full of wet feathers. But a Welsh corgi counts as 2 dogs 'cause it fits into your sleeping bag. Wear every stitch of clothing but your rain gear. Stuff the dog's foam square up inside the back of your anorak so your back has some insulation when you roll to either side. Lie on your back, dog on your chest, put the dog's blanket over the dog inside the wet bag. Bury your cold hands in the dog's pelt. Carefully rig the mummy hole so both of your snouts exhale outside the bag. Don't get the animal's whiskers in the zipper. Then undo the whole thing to get out and pee (dog, too). Reassemble, relax, and succumb to the hypnotic mantra of a sleeping animal snoozing in your ear, as humans have done since there were dogs.
It was not exactly a survival situation, but too cold and wet to sleep without the dog. We did this for the rest of the trip. Like an electric blanket. In mild weather, maybe I never need to bring a sleeping bag again...
Do not try this at home, kids, unless your dog is totally cool! Imagine being trapped in a mummy bag with a panicked carnivore! [I'm serious.]

DAY 4 9/7 PCT to Suiattle R.
Lazy day, late start, early stop. Trail is clear except for last 1-2 miles before the river, so you learn what the trail crew did for you. Weather continued false promises of clearing, wet but not oppressive.
Camped at Suiattle crossing. Kind of like the Pacific beaches: sand, deadwood, roaring water, wide open, foggy. Fine spring on W side.
Spoke perhaps 9 PCTers.

DAY 5 9/8 Suiattle R to High Pass.
Same pattern: dry morning, false promises of clearing.
The log is high but 2.5' wide and level [photo]; I shinnied but saw folks walking blithely across. I belayed the dog, maybe more dangerous than just letting him walk across alone, but a slip likely fatal. Strong current. Video of this crossing on YouTube.
Suddenly, some trip-threatening Achilles tendonitis from the high new boots, high above heel, at boot rim. 2X Ibuprofen and 1X Tylenol helped. 9 days later, still sore, edema.
PCT to Buck Ck Tr (west side) and Buck Ck Tr itself are in excellent shape, as is High Pass trail. 2 people at Buck Ck Pass. Around High Pass, world-class scenery in zero visibility, wind, and pending dark.
At High Pass, much more snow than expected. The exposure was seriously dangerous, slip likely fatal under the circumstances, even if just a sprained ankle; I like an ice ax for this stuff but had a 6.5' bamboo stick. Snow was just soft enough. Mountaineering boots, experienced.
Repeat: dangerous exposure at High Pass this season.
Descended a few hundred feet into basins S of pass and found a great established bivvy site.
The rain politely waited until I had the tent mostly up.

DAY 6 9/9 High Pass -- Napeequa -- Boulder Pass.
Weather finally breaking. Overcast, but rain stopped mostly.
Serious immersion feet. Trench Foot numbness over 2 weeks later. My awful new modern full-rand boots don't drain; the cheap fabric liners and sponge rubber padding hold a ton of water. I couldn't pour standing water out of these boots if the instructions were written on the soles. The liners soak it up. I'd have been better off with my old ones, which have holes in them. Scuppers.
The hanging valley of the N Fk is a delight. Track is intermittent, but you only really need it up above, where it's on the N & W banks, readily apparent. Still snow patches, a cool summer.
The climb down from the hanging valley is steep and brushy but not difficult, a low-grade bushwhack. The track is obvious, W side of river. Fine campsite up above at mouth of hanging valley.
Napeequa is a beautiful open walk. Sketchy in a few places. It goes to water's edge, where we rockhopped some curious whitish granite ledges and almost kept our feet dry; so upbound, try keeping to the N bank and you'll soon rejoin the track; these white ledges are pretty obvious, and the first pool is the worst. Campsite at Louis Ck. The Boulder Pass ford is simple, briefly knee deep and mostly shallower this season.
Boulder Pass Tr #1562 is lovely, wild, steep, with sometimes frail-looking tread, airy. A few Do-Not-Fall places. Brushy but well-logged (it's been the PCT detour). The SW side of the pass (possible bivvy, water) was windy, so we retreated to 6100' on the NE side and bivvied on a sand patch.
Cleaned up after some maximum-impact campers, but couldn't hide the 2' stump, which you can see from the pass. Hey, if you need to take an ax and saw to 6100', make a messy fire, leave permanent ax/saw scars on standing deadwood, and spray paint trail markers on beautiful gneiss boulders (not making this up)... maybe just stay home where you belong and watch the game instead...? Gotta go back with graffiti remover. This is bigotted, but I have a pretty good idea what kind of people do this stuff...

DAY 7 9/10 Boulder Pass to White R. to Lightning Ck.
Our first dawn, subdued but stunning due to sun deprivation. Entiats in sunshine.
Boulder Pass #1562 is excellent all the way, my favorite of the trip (I'd never been there). Clark Mt. High Route sheep trail is easily spotted if you know where to look.
Sign at White R jctn: "8/17/10... fires in Thunder Basin, Lightning Basin... Travel up White R #1507 STRONGLY DISCOURAGED". "Just the USFS keeping the liability lawyers happy", says Mr. Smartass here. Past Lightning Ck next day, I wasn't scoffing at that sign anymore.
A unique blaze marks the route to Thunder Basin. Going quite brushy but generally doable with many fast stretches to Lightning Ck. Nice camp, quit early, made fire to dry-out, sort of. Later, REALLY glad we stopped here. Lots of big bear scat; hung food carefully. Stars!

DAY 8 9/11 Lightning Ck to White Pass.
Lazy start 11 AM Lightning Ck, expected to reach PCT by 2 PM, didn't get there until 4:30 PM. Luckily, the best weather day. It was a challenge. Trail deteriorates steadily past Lightning Ck. Waist-, shoulder-, head-high brush. Dog, trail invisible at my feet. Serious blowdown from the big burns and avy debris. 3 N-side tributaries past Lightning Ck; it's worst between these, perhaps 2 mi.
Just past the next creek after Lightning, trail enters nest of jackstraw but does not emerge on other side. The blowdown treacherously obscures the left turn to river crossing. I finally spotted sawn logs on S bank, and forded. The 7.5' map photocopy was handy, altimeter too. S bank is easier to follow, but you're often following nothing but the cut logs of the Sept. 2002 trail crew who cut the last of many dozens of blowdown just in time for me, 9/02. Now, their cuts were saving my sorry ass again.
Crossing back to the N above a waterfall gorge (campsite here N side), it gets worse. Very thick brush and blowdown. Trail long abandoned. Reopening will be a huge job. Slow, careful trailfinding; sometimes visible tread, often just old log cuts. I've never had an altimeter before; useful here. In the last, worst nest of jackstraw, I spotted an unmapped switchback by pure luck, followed it into a tornado swath of huge downed trees, gave up, and resolved to escape upwards to the visible open fire-cleared slopes above and the Foam Basin sheep trail. Luck more than skill brought me across the tread again, and it was easier thereafter, above 4000' or so. Charming moss-covered tread, very brushy but easy to follow. Cross a steep rocky ravine to a bench mark (4532') on the far side, then cross back to the switchback you just missed. Did same thing last time.
Fine spring 1/4 - 1/2 mi. below the top. The PCT looked like I-5. Spoke 5 PCTers, camped at White Pass. Fine views that disappeared overnight.

DAY 9 9/12 White Pass to N Fk Sauk
More rain, low viz. Got to leave a thank-you note at the trail crew's tool stash. Horse packers bringing in a hunter (High Hunt started 9/15, be aware of this, met 2 climbers who were not). Thrilling sun breaks.

A wonderful trip despite the normal weather and trenchfoot. My ambitious high-route plans (Dolly-Gamma, Upper SUiattle, Triad Ck, Clark Mtn High Rte) were immediately discarded as embarrassingly delusional. I considered bailing at 3 of 4 escape points. Nearly all meals cooked thru the door of the tent in rain or wind. I never used any sun gear, the tele lens, the bug dope, or the water filter (took the filter for the same reason I took the down bag; I never filter or get sick). Love/hate relationship with the 6.5' bamboo hiking stick: always in the way, very handy for fords, steep descents, rough stuff, jackstraw, heavy load, doesn't dig up trails like those ski-pole things do. The jury is still out. Don't start a long trip with new gear you've not shaken-down: the critical hipbelt on my brand-new backpack proved too big, and would not ride high enough! Had my shirt off for 10 min. Never took off my inner layer. Early fall color, a goshawk, a big bear up close.

Tactfully, the weather waited a decent interval -- Granite Falls -- before pulling the veil to reveal an orange crescent moon in a deep, clear sky. Sunny in Seattle at work next day.

Just walking the dog.

Duane and I both had this area of the Glacier Peak Wilderness on our "to do" lists. So we chose a loop route and waited for the weather to cooperate.

Our intent was to start at the Phelps Creek trailhead, hike through Spider Meadow, over Spider Gap, down past the Lyman Lakes, west over Cloudy Pass to the Pacific Crest Trail, then south over Buck Creek Pass, following the Buck Creek Trail all the way to Trinity and the Phelps Creek Campground, concluding with a 3 mile road walk back to the Phelps Creek trailhead. We allowed five days, with several optional side trips: the base of Lyman Glacier, the west side of Lyman Lake, Image Lake, Middle Ridge, and Flower Dome.

Due to our personal schedules and the weather, our first day on the trail coincided with the opening day of deer hunting season. We left the trailhead shortly after a young man carrying a rifle on his pack.

At 3.4 miles is a junction to a trail heading up Leroy Creek. A paper sign was posted on a tree a short distance on that trail. I inspected and found that it warned of a wildfire in the Leroy Creek basin. Unfortunately, the sign was not dated.

We continued on another 1.5 to 2 miles to where Spider Meadow opened up. There were numerous campsites here, mostly occupied by hunters. We chatted briefly, then continued on toward our intended camp at Larch Knob, near the base of Spider Glacier.

At the end of the open meadow, the trail started climbing and we started looking for the trail junction that would lead us west up to Larch Knob. At a campsite along the left side of the trail, we saw a path leading west and took it. It broke out of forest in a jumble of rocks below a cliff, and became too faint to follow. This is NOT the trail to Larch Knob. Back on the main trail, we soon found a signed junction and the real side trail, which climbs steeply along a cliff face to Larch Knob, where there are a few gorgeous camps overlooking Spider Meadow.

We discussed our options for getting to Spider Gap. I had trekking poles but no ice axe. Duane had neither. We had read that the route over the Gap was doable without either, but we were exercising caution. We watched others traveling the glacier route, and by morning had decided to try that route.

Even though Spider Glacier was still partially shaded, it was not icy, and made for a nice ascent to Spider Gap. As the top is a small bowl, with Spider Gap straight ahead. The best route however, is to ascend the lower saddle to the right, then follow an obvious path that contours around to the Gap. (See photo.)

Through the Gap, the views opened up to the entire Lyman Lake basin, and beyond to Bonanza Peak. The north side of Spider Gap is loose rock. The trail soon divides, with one route heading north and maintaining elevation. We had read about the existence of a miner's trail and this appeared to be it. We dropped our packs and followed it a short distance with our cameras, to take advantage of the improved views.

Laden with our packs again, we dropped quickly through the rocks and gravel to a chute of ice. It was here that the trekking poles would come in handy. We were able to avoid the ice most of the way down the chute, taking care to avoid ice hidden beneath a slurry of rocks and mud. But at one point, we had to cross a 20-foot slope of ice. We each used a pole for insurance in making this traverse.

Later in the day, we heard from other hikers that the previous day a man had fallen on the ice and had to abort his trip to get stitches in his badly lacerated arm. Don't underestimate the danger of this section.

Once down in the basin, we spent a considerable amount of time exploring along the shore of the large lake and photographing ice caves at the base of Lyman Glacier. The respective sizes and shapes of the lakes in the basin looked nothing like those on my 2004 Green Trails map (Holden - #113). We had both seen photos of Lyman Lakes before our hike, but we couldn't match our memories to the reality. It was clear that this area had changed dramatically in recent years.

Our research had indicated that there was water within a half mile of Cloudy Pass, but we weren't sure where. We talked to some hikers headed the other direction and confirmed that Cloudy Pass had good camps, with water nearby. So we decided to camp there on night two. By the time we dropped from the upper basin to the north side of Lyman Lake, clouds had come in and a wind was creating a chill. While stopped for a snack, we opted to forego a side trip along the west side of the lake to Lyman Falls. Instead we continued up toward Cloudy Pass.

Approximately a half mile before Cloudy Pass, the trail opens up to a large meadow. The pass is visible in the distance. Before long, the trail passes by a creek that had a good amount of water flowing even in mid-September. We did not stop, and regretted it 15 minutes later.

There were nice camps at Cloudy Pass, but we had passed the only water source. It was only 3:30 in the afternoon, but we wanted to take a side trip to Image Lake the next day, and did not know of another camp site between Cloudy Pass and Trail 785.

Ultimately, we decided to take our chances and press on. It started sprinkling the moment we left Cloudy Pass, and we had second thoughts. But when the rain held off, we moved on. We took the Trail 1279 shortcut, with its pointless ups and downs, to a junction with the PCT south of Suiattle Pass. From there we continued to the junction with Trail 785 and the side trip to Image Lake, without seeing any place to camp.

We decided to continue on 785, and quickly came to an old miner's camp. Hikers coming from the other direction assured us that water was only an eighth of a mile west. The site was buggy, but we were tired and willing to tolerate it.

It rained overnight, and everything was damp in the morning. We lightened our packs and set out through wet bushes on our side trip to Image Lake. On the way there, the fog lifted and we got partial views of Glacier Peak. At Image Lake, two deer grazed lazily, unconcerned about our presence. We climbed above the lake. While Duane explored the ridge above, I feasted on blueberries, which were plentiful, plump, and deliciously sweet.

When we returned to camp, we decided to leave the buggy camp for (hopefully) a better one. We had met some hikers who had camped atop Middle Ridge, a one mile side trip to 6400' with good views. It was early afternoon, and the 6400' camp was 6.5 steep miles away, but we decided to go for it. We broke camp in record time and started walking.

We reconnected with the PCT and headed south, dropping down to cross Miner's Creek then starting up an increasingly steep slope. We were aware of the PCT detour from the 2003 flood damage, and were expecting to see a trail closure at the junction 2.8 miles south of Trail 785 junction. We saw no trail at all; the junction had effectively been erased.

We stopped for water along Trail 789, then continued steeply up to Middle Ridge at 6200 feet. Along the way, we feasted on the plump ripe blueberries that lined the trail, just to keep our energy levels up. A black bear on the slope of peak 6655 appeared to be doing the same.

Once on top of Middle Ridge, we turned east on an unmaintained trail. It was badly rutted at first, over a foot deep. It climbed up the ridge, then contoured around the south face, reaching a broad sloping meadow at 6400' in about a mile. We arrived near dusk to found one tent already there. We hastily set up our tent in the fading light.

In the morning we spoke to the other backpacker. She told us that water was available a few hundred yards away, to the northeast. Sure enough, there were at least two streams coming off the scenic slope of peak 8297. Not knowing this, we had brought enough and didn't bother to walk over there.

As we left 6400' camp, the meadow afforded good views of Glacier Peak, with only a few clouds around it.

As we left Middle Ridge heading south again, we finally saw a sign marking the PCT detour route. We dropped down to Small Creek, stopping for water, then climbed up past slopes of autumn colors to a junction with Trail 799 to Flower Dome. We dropped our packs and took the 0.6 mile side trip to Flower Dome. Being mid-September, there were no flowers, but the views to the north and east were nice. Partially obstructed views to Glacier Peak and the Suiattle River were also pretty impressive.

Back on the mail trail, it was a mere 0.3 mile to Buck Creek Pass, more slopes of blueberries providing autumn colors, and our last fantastic views of Glacier Peak. We left the pass at 2:15 p.m., leaving open the question of whether we would press on to the trailhead 9.6 miles away, or spend another evening on the trail.

From Buck Creek Pass, the downhill miles went quickly. We passed obvious avalanche damage in the first mile. Water was plentiful. We did not stop to see if the camp sites in this area were still usable.

Three miles ahead there was a 100-yard wide swath of downed trees. Trail crews had cleared the route through the avalanche, leaving just a very impressive sight.

We passed up a camp at the crossing of the Chiwawa River and continued to the junction with Trail 1550 (Massie Lake Trail). Finally, after 8.2 miles since Buck Creek Pass, we knew for sure where we were, and how much farther it was. That last 1.4 miles seemed like at least 2.

We arrived at the Phelps Creek Campground after 6:00 p.m., with darkness closing in. I left my pack with Duane and hiked the 3 miles to the car in just 36 minutes, capping off a long and exhausting day, and a very memorable loop hike.

As the season wore on, my body wore down ... mostly my ankles. Compliments of a motorcycle accident back in college, I can only do so much on my feet before I start to hobble. The guidelines I’ve found for myself are 10 miles on the trail or two days of full court basketball or a four day backpacking trip. I can usually go for lots and lots of short training hikes, one-day weekend outings, or cragging, but anything that puts load on my ankles over an extended period of time will eat me up. And so I was actually looking forward to a little rain. :-)

That said, the weather this past weekend was coming in as picture perfect and I still had a few peaks that were reasonably near that were on my list. Fortress Mountain was the one I targeted.

The main\basic\most direct route up Fortress involves heading up the Chiwawa River trail, navigate around some cliff bands below it and Chiwawa Mountain, and do a bit of class three (with a small class four move at the top) scrambling up from the SE to the summit. Another route, and the one I chose, is a bit longer but you have trail a large portion of the way and then it’s just a class three scramble up the SW face to the ridgeline and onto the summit. I liked that way as it allowed for minimal route finding and seemed a bit quieter. And I was in a contemplative mood.

Actually, I wasn’t really gunned up for the peak ... my body was a bit achy from a couple four-day trips I’d done, I had a bunch of unfinished projects at home, and guess I just felt tired. Still, the weekend planned to be the best we may see in a while and if I needed to suck it up, I thought it’d be just a long walk. And so I headed out.

Friday at 4 PM came and I closed up work a bit early and was on the road before a quarter after. Traffic was a bit of a knot to work through but by around 7:30 I was pulling into the Trinity parking lot. Unfortunately, it gets dark darned early these days and I was under full headlight power and my plans to scout the lot to see where the actual trailhead was had to be postponed.

For those who haven’t been to the Trinity lot, or those who know it really well, this probably seems like an odd comment. Coming in under the cloak (tarp?) of darkness and seeing private property signs, parking “stalls”, and several rows of spaces I was a bit confused. Still, that just meant I’d get to sleep in and wouldn’t be taking off as early as I thought I could.

And without much fuss, I hopped into the back of my car and tried to sleep.”Tried” being the operative word. What a mess.

I’d hoped that with the back seats down I could find enough space and comfort in the back of my modest SUV (it’s a Saturn VUE) to do the job. It was cramped, the temps too high, and I was aware the slick sleeping bag wasn’t going to stay put on the sloped deck. I tossed around for a few hours before crawling into the front seat to an equally disappointing experience.

The seat didn’t recline as much as I wanted and by now (10 PM-ish) the temps were getting low enough that my bald head and outstretched arms were getting chilly. I fumbled about and endeavored to find a position that worked, but two thirds reclined is really annoying. So, an hour or so later, I returned to the back. This time I positioned my head down, mashed myself into a wad of humanity, and let blood pooling in my brain and general fatigue usher me into sleep.

I woke a few times in the night and again before it was light out but, against all expectation, I wasn’t stiff, sore, or destroyed by the night’s contortions. It was pretty surprising.

So, with the morning chill deep in the air I dressed, checked my GPS (yup, fresh batteries, way points marked, and a better knowledge of how to use it), and had my half muffin. Then I locked the car and under heavy skies I started toward the obvious trailhead and down the path.

The Buck Creek trail is a masterful bit of work. You start heading NNW along the Chiwawa River trail but you depart to the NW roughly a mile and a half along the way. In five and a half miles you gain less than 2000’ but then you start to work a bit thereafter.

Over this section I enjoyed deep cloudy skies obscuring Buck Mountain and the surrounding ridges, the trail pops out now and then for peek-a-boo glimpses into the valley, and the nip in the air allowed me to make reasonable time and still feel at ease. The entire time the trail remained in good shape with easy creek crossings. I saw two people who had bivied within a mile of the trailhead and that was the last of the people I’d see until I returned to the parking lot at the end of the day.

About a month earlier I had been rained on an entire day as I trudged up the Chilliwack River basin and several weeks ago, while all of Seattle enjoyed high temps and beautiful weather, I was rained on again as I headed through the Henry M. Jackson Wilderness, and so I kept a wary eye on the sky. The clouds only showed potential to clear off but no real intent. Additionally, I started to see the end of the basin I was heading up and I could see clouds piling in from the north as well as from the west. Not good. But on I strode.

I was happy that my legs were equal to the challenge with no signs of flagging and my body held no aches or pains from the night’s “sleep”, but before I started up toward Pass No Pass my feet were talking to me.

I’d been holding internal conversations the entire way and often found myself on the defending side of continuing on. Now that I was realizing an actual issue, I found myself on the cajoling side of pretending my feet weren’t already at the giving up point.

On I rolled and up the switchbacks toward Helmet Butte. I stopped shy of my cut off and filled my water bottle; unsure of what a really nice summer had done to the water up high. I got up and after another quarter mile saw Fortress Mountain.

The rocky ridge sticks up like the fin on some great fish and, from the angle I was at, didn’t show immediate promise of a class three scramble up. I continued to find my eyes drawn to it, or where it would have been without the clouds, and was happy that I was able to start pulling the route together. Before long, I left the trail and headed toward Pass No Pass.

Although I said you “leave the trail’, there’s still an obvious scratch in the face of the earth that treats your boots well enough and brings you across a good-running creek and to a cove of trees in a protected basin beneath the cliffy sides of Fortress’ southwest flank. It’s a beautiful area and it was here that I rested and ended up turning back.

By this time my feet\ankles were causing me problems and I had about 2000’ and another mile and a half of work before I topped out. I knew that if I went I’d be blowing the time I told my wife I’d be done and I’d have to negotiate steep rock in a compromised state. I knew I could pull it together and make it happen, but that didn’t seem to be how I wanted to climb this, or any mountain. Maybe I don’t have the killer instincts or the drive to make it at all costs ... but I sure do enjoy the wonderful breezes you get as you crest a ridge, the smell of a high meadow under the summer sun, and the feel of rock and trail passing beneath my hands and feet as I confidently negotiate my way to a summit.

And stumbling up a steep bit of stone some eight miles from the trailhead by myself didn’t feel like any of the things I like. But neither did leaving before I was taxed.

So I sat and watched the heavy clouds. I ate my sandwich and I enjoyed the last of the wildflowers. I stretched out and found a balance between the cold coming off Pass No Pass blowing the clouds around with the sun that was poking through. I did all of this while talking to my feet and asking them what was the right call.

And so I tagged my current position on my GPS, sent an “I’m OK” signal on my SPOT, packed my small rucksack, and headed back to the trail, the long walk back, and my car.

On the way I waffled between kicking myself for being so close and not finishing it off, with applauding as the darkening clouds, for a time, massed heavier in the south. I found myself stopping often and resting and, as expected, limping as I got up from stiff feet and ankles. I spent about 4 hours on the way in, up, and at lunch. The way down took about 3 hours with lots of stops. From my pictures I could tell I was getting tapped by the many shots of the trail, stray trees, and ultimately pictures of pine cones and mosses.

I do plan on returning and bringing bivy gear for the camping spot below Pass No Pass. I’ll summit then and can’t imagine I won’t be thankful for a chance to return. It’s a gorgeous spot and one that would be marvelous to spend any amount of time at.