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.

We wanted to make the best of the Labor Day weekend, so we set off at 5:30am from north Seattle. Got to Trinity around 8am after the most disgusting breakfast ever at the Sultan McDonalds. The 30 minutes spent eating a real breakfast would have been worth it both in the taste & energy we would have got.

It was sunny & fairly windy at Trinity but we soon got our packs on & headed up the trail. Buck Creek trail is easy & flat for the first 6 miles or so. The PCT detour has been good to this trail--almost too good in some parts; it looked like it had been clearcut. About 5mi in we felt raindrops on us. Odd--it was sunny out! As we proceeded we saw a bank of fog/low cloud hugging the ridge top--the wind was blowing the drops our way. It gradually got colder and when we hit the real precipitation it was snow pellets; nice because we didn't get wet! The trail gets steeper--and more scenic once it starts climbing away from the river--about 6mi in.

We made Buck Creek Pass about 3:30 (yes we were taking our time--that McD's breakfast). Glacier Peak was shrouded in mist--just peeking through in parts. No one there but lots of nice campsites in the beautiful meadows. We decided to press on to a lower elevation so we didn't freeze that night.

A steep & quick hour down found us at Small Creek where we decided to spend the night. Chilly & misty but we were warm with out red beans & rice--and some whisky.

The next morning dawned misty & chilly. We left (still in our long johns) at 10:15. The long johns came off after about 15 minutes up the hillside. Not too steep, but enough to warm us up. 11:15 found us at Middle Ridge, pretty in the mist, but no views. Then a walk down & through the forest to the "real" PCT at 12:30.

The trail up to Suiattle Pass was fairly easy in improving conditions through lovely huckleberry meadows. Took the hikers trail (not for the faint of heart) to Cloudy Pass. We sheltered from a heavy snowstorm about 300' below the pass & then went on to the blue sky we could see at the other side of the pass (4pm).

The meadows on the SE side of Cloudy Pass are beautiful, if past their prime. A pity the ridges were all shrouded in fog. Lower Lyman lake was windy & cloudy so we made for the Upper Lyman Basin: what an incredible place.

We pulled in to an awesome campsite completely sheltered from the wind somewhere around 5.30. The weather may not have been the best this weekend (though it was completely fine for us), but it sure made less hardy souls (and bugs) stay away. It was wonderful to have the whole Upper Lyman Basin just to ourselves.

Frost on the tent in the morning. We stayed in camp (watching a bear bound across the meadows) till about 11:15 so the snow would have a chance to soften on our paths up & down Spider Gap.

The trail up the gap isn't hard to find if you keep a lookout for the cairns. The snowfield was definitely the way to go. Made the top around 12:30 and glissaded (ice axe not needed) down the Spider "glacier" to Larch Knob. Boy the trail from there down to Spider Meadow is steep!

A leisurely lunch at the big boulder by Phelps Creek at 1:30. We left the lower meadow at 3pm & got back to the trailhead at 4.30. What a shock! Where were the hoards of people leaving Spider Meadow who were supposed to pick up a hitchhiker & take me back to the car? We started down the road & after about 15 minutes were picked up by a lovely lady driving a red jeep. If you read this, thanks & I hope your trip to the Enchantments was wonderful!

All in all a great hike, probably improved by the iffy weather keeping the crowds away.

One final note: the way to do this loop is clockwise; the steeps are all downhill that way, Spider Glacier is a glacier no longer, and that 8mi out Buck Creek trail would be boring & long at the end. Okay, if you don't have a modicum of experience of snowfields maybe do it counter-clockwise, but don't be put off by the warnings that the glacier is dangerous. It isn't--at least not in late summer.