Using Hart's Pass as our staging area we headed south on the PCT. Although the PCT leaves directly from the Pass we cheated and drove to "the meadows" and cut of a mile or more that we had done on another trip. The trail is never steep but rather swoops up and down between passes and across faces of hills. The views are grand and only get better once you get to GH Pass.

We headed up Tatie Peak from it's eastern most end and then descended back to the PCT at it's southern end. Neither ridge had any difficulties, just pleasant ridge hiking and a little loose scree on the way down. Of note was some composite rock that had worn river rock (igneous rocks) imbedded in more recent flows.

The fall colors were beautiful and ice crystals were pushing up through the muddy trail. GH Pass is long with the trail running across the top of it for a number of meters. As this ridge stretches off to the south (and then eventually towards the east) a faint hikers trail goes to the first bump (7125') on Handcock ridge.

Nothing like long ridge strolls at 7,000 in mid-July. Peaks abounding 360 degrees around - so abundant many unnamed. Never got above 75F (Mazama was reportedly 90F+), light breeze kept (most) bugs at bay. No obstructions on trail - two very short and easy snow patches. Abundant wildflowers although still a week or more from 'peak'. Lovely water spot about four miles in. Only two other hikers in 11 miles. Will be back in the fall for the larches.

After setting up camp at Lone Fir CG, we drove to Harts Pass to do a short "warm-up" hike. We had not been to the pass since fire scorched a large area of forest in the area about 5 years ago, I believe. The larch are just starting to turn golden, but the berry bushes are a vibrant red. Time allowed us to hike only 2 miles to a gap on Tatie Peak's shoulder, 7000 ft. The afternoon was cloudy so peaks were mostly hidden from view. The trail begins in unburned forest and climbs gradually in 3/4 mile to a ridge crest where you begin to see some of the burn area. Except for some hare bells flowers are mostly gone.

The five mile stretch on the PCT from the Meadows campground trailhead to Grasshopper Pass is almost everything a ridge walk should be: easy hiking, interesting wildlife, and expansive views. The region isn’t crowded because it’s relatively remote: five hours from Seattle, and eight hours for the likes of me. Faisel and I headed out at 2 am, got to Mazama at about 9, and took about another hour up to the trailhead. The dirt road is generally well-graded, but does include the invigorating half mile section at Deadhorse Pass, where our Subaru expressed some concern about the drop off.

Since Faisel was testing out a new knee, and given the painful cost of gas, ours was a lazy two night foray, restricted only by our sloth, our desire for a scenic campsite, and the location of water. Although predictions were for three days of sun, on Saturday we witnessed a battle between an American high and a Canadian low that resulted in significant cloud cover and blustery winds. From the trailhead at about 6500 feet, the pale green larches intimated that this place will be absolutely stunning in a month, but it was very pretty even still. We packed up the sparsely vegetated trail with views East and North, crossed the first scree slide, rounded the bend at about a mile and a half, and the horizon opened out to the West. Ballard, Azurite, and the Needles held the clouds on their heads. The next mile and a half sometimes edges and sometimes runs along the ridgeline. Views are constant to the South and West, and occasional to the North and East. Fireweed, blue bell flowers, yarrow, thistle, multiple species of saxifrage, and cereal box red paint brush decorate the way. We stopped at the pass below Tatie Peak at about three miles to reconnoiter. Faisel counted a few backpacking pairs and small groups of day hikers while I took an hour and a half to loop up to Grasshopper Pass and locate water. As others have noted, there’s a little stream with a few pools in a charming bouldery basin below Tatie, about four miles from the trailhead. It’s visible from the trail, about 100-200 yards down.

Back at the three mile pass, Faisel and I ate a late lunch and opted to camp on a patch of grass at the rim of the North-facing basin under increasingly threatening skies. We ambled down to collect water and back up to our tent at sunset. By then the wind was blowing, so we donned all our clothes, cooked, ate dinner, drank cocktails, and composed new constellations in a sheltered spot. Faisel saved the evening’s only shooting star to accompany a devoted cat into the afterlife, and the wind blew through the night.

Sunday’s skies were clear, and we loitered over breakfast before rambling to Grasshopper Pass. Rounding one switchback below our camp, I startled a cougar who quickly bounded uphill and out of sight. I was relieved that he didn’t stick around to pose. Up at Grasshopper Pass, a family group of ptarmigans meandered about, and a raven and sparrow hawk took turns playing with the air currents. We lunched with Ballard and Azurite, trekked carefully up 7125 peak, and returned to our camp after drawing more water and visiting with sociable pikas. We celebrated again on Sunday night, revised our constellations, went to bed, and awoke to mostly clear skies. We saw numerous chipmunks and ground squirrels along the trail, but missed the wolverine two incoming day-hikers spied on the hillside a mile or so from our car. We decided to drive past Deadhorse Pass before our traditional trail’s end beer and lunch. The Subaru seemed pleased at our decision, and happily conveyed its unexpectedly sensible cargo eight hours home.