On 8/22, our group of five Boy Scouts, plus adult leaders J and I, went to Meadows Campground, near the top of Harts Pass. Our plan was an open loop trip down to River Bend Campground, and the TH of the West Fork of the Methow Trail.

Harts Pass Road (5400) is in good shape; 12.4 miles, but plan for about a 40+ minute drive time. It is one lane, and has its share of washboarding and potholes, but can be handled by cars with reasonable clearance and decent suspension. Be cautious of the blind curves, and be ready to stop and pull off into one of the many wide spots for a slow speed pass. The area around Dead Horse Point is signed as rough and hazardous, 10 mph. Obey the sign, and life will be good.

According to the calendar, it was August, but when the guys stepped out of the trucks, they were hit by a twenty-plus mph wind, and temps in the thirties. The campground (and some of the subsequent trip) is located in the region of the Needles Fire of 2002. Burned out trees were everywhere, and the howling wind through the trees sounded positively eerie. We were even greeted by a brief burst of snow. Such is summer in the North Cascades.

The wind eventually blew itself out, and Monday morning dawned calm and clear; temps would be in the mid-upper 70s for the rest of the trip. After a quick breakfast, and breaking camp, the two chauffeurs headed back down the mountain to leave a truck at River Bend Campground, where the open-loop trip would end. Finally, the troop headed to the road up to the trailhead, and after a quick picture, took off south down the Pacific Crest Trail.

The trail gradually climbs around an open basin, and makes its way along steep slopes near the ridgeline. Unfortunately, my camera was on the fritz, so I don't have pictures of the views, or the many flowers I'd never seen before (see Riri's report from 8/14 for a description and lots of great shots).

At two miles and 7000 feet of elevation, at the saddle next to Tatie Peak, the troop called a halt for lunch among the heather and the views. There were virtually no bugs, and it was utterly pleasant.

The trail descends gradually to 6500 feet, but not before traversing several boulder fields. It was awesome to see the Slate Creek valley far below us, and the huge boulders that were scattered all around; they must have rolled hundreds of feet as they crashed down the slope.

Finally, we hit the last ascent, and at five miles and 7125 feet, we reached Grasshopper Pass. Mt. Ballard and Azurite Peak almost hit us in the face, they seemed so close. Gorgeous.

And now for the water. The source we had been expecting a couple of miles back had apparently dried up. We met a couple of northbound thru-hikers, who told us that the last water they’d seen was far ahead of us. So we shouldered our packs, and headed down the far side of Grasshopper Pass. This is an extremely steep slope, with long switchbacks, and it took a while to make it down. But the trail was in fine shape, so we had no problem.

We passed Glacier Pass at 5200 feet, and headed southwest along Brush Creek, which was within earshot, but tantalizingly out of reach. At 8.6 miles, we reached the junction with the West Fork of the Methow River Trail.

The river, too, remained in earshot, as we travelled almost due east down the 8 mile trail. It would be another two miles before we reached a campsite where water was accessible.

Dusk was falling as we began to set up camp, and by the time water had been filtered, tents pitched, and dinner prepared, it was dark. Nobody minded turning in at 10:30, and I daresay everyone slept well.

Tuesday morning was a carbon copy of Monday, except a couple of thousand feet lower, and with the sound of the river in our ears. We slept in, after the late night, and hit the trail a little before eleven.

The first thing that hit us, literally, was the brush. Slide chute brush was everywhere, and I do mean everywhere. Today’s challenge was to make our way through. The trail was easy enough to follow, but as I looked up from the back of the group, all I could see was six to eight foot tall brush, and the occasional pack-top bouncing along in front of me. It made me wish for a machete, and I kept expecting to hear “Doctor Livingston, I presume?”

The going was slow, but the guys slogged on, and there were occasional thimbleberries to look for. I saw one cluster of salmonberries, but the hucks were nowhere to be found.

We called an abbreviated lunch break at 1:30. The brush gradually thinned, and at around 3:00, we found ourselves at a low-running Trout Creek, home to a great bridge, and plenty of places to splash, rinse, and filter water. It was just what the doctor ordered, and after relaxing for the better part of an hour, we headed downriver again. Two miles later, we found a great looking camp, and called it quits. J took a few of the guys further down the trail to see if they could find anything better, but they came up short. Literally. We were at Rattlesnake Camp, just a few hundred yards from the trailhead. But this was as good a place as any. Rattlesnake Creek was right there, providing easy water and a great place to soak tired feet. The campsites were level and comfortable, and the weather was beautiful. We stayed, and had a peaceful and delightful evening.

The next morning, we were up at a reasonable time, but in no hurry. Coffee was made, oatmeal was eaten, gear was stowed. We shouldered our packs for the strenuous hike down the trail, and five minutes later, we were at the truck.