On the road by 2 and through Seattle by 5, I was the first one at the Marblemount Ranger Station by 7 and scored Friday Sahale Arm and Saturday Boston Basin camping permits. I was so pleased that I nearly hugged the surprised on-duty park ranger. My vague notion was to take three days to travel up the Cascade Pass Trail and onto Sahale Arm, cross-country to Boston Basin, head down the climber's trail to Cascade River Road, and foot it 3/4 mile on the road to connect with my car.

After the 22 miles on the Cascade River Road from Marblemount to the Cascade Pass Trailhead, I ate breakfast, took pictures, puttered around and packed, so I didn't hit the trail till near ten. Despite the late departure hour, and time spent taking zillions of photos, I didn't see many hikers. I passed three groups who were taking even more pictures than I was, and seemed to be the first to arrive at marvelous Cascade Pass, with spectacular views of the Cascade Peak-Johannesberg Ridge, and acres of flowers and purple heather in bloom. Perhaps the only thing to match the panorama was the absence of almost all bugs. There was a quorum of large green-headed flies, but they were so big and slow that bumping them off was more of a pastime than a pain.

A few snow patches encroached on the trail at the pass, but it was easy to find the switchbacks up to Sahale Arm and another stunner: the swan dive down to Doubtful Lake and range upon range of peaks south. This may be as close as it gets to heaven before it's too late. The splendor on the arm continues with views and now pink and white heather, and lupine, bistort, purple thistles, penstemon, glacier lilies and more. Eventually it's the rocky, steep uphill to the rock encircled sentry posts at Sahale Arm Camp. I took the most incredible one at the very edge of the thousand foot drop to Doubtful Lake. Over the course of the afternoon I set up camp, at lunch, played in the snow-covered basin, watched a few more groups arrive, and generally lounged. It was my camera shutter that was working overtime. Just before cocktail hour, a pair of park rangers dropped by to check permits, and they confirmed the feasibility of cross-country travel to Boston Basin. After that it was iced lime daiquiris, sunset, dinner and stars.

Following a leisurely Saturday breakfast and packing up, I embarked on my off-trail excursion to Boston Basin at about 10:30, giving me at least 10 daylight hours in near perfect weather to travel about 1 mile as the crow flies. The first matter of business was to head down the rocky part of the regular trail to the highest grassy area of Sahale Arm. At that point, about 6600 feet, my route took me due north above the steep snowfield that feeds into Soldier Boy Creek. After that, one option would have been to proceed upwards and along the crests of the two nearest scree mounds below the southern part of Quien Sabe Glacier. Instead, I aimed for a track beneath the scree mounds across two small snow fields as they flattened out, perhaps at about 6200 feet. My plan was to contour near the upper edge of the vegetation line at about 6000 feet, and to connect up near the lower part of the third, smaller (and more northern) scree mound that I though might be on the southern side of Boston Basin's lower edge, below the high meadows where I thought I saw the trail. On the whole, the plan worked reasonably well, but remarkably slowly. Crossing Midas Creek soaked my boots, and crossing Morning Star Creek did likewise, and also required a scramble to get up its northern bank. There were a few brushy areas, particularly for about 100 yards on each side of each creek. Also, the seemingly inviting grassy slope just south of the third scree/rock pile didn't offer pleasant footing. Nevertheless, once I finally got to the scree/rock mound it was home free, and it was comforting to arrive at an overlook down to Boston Creek's south fork, about 200 feet above the two or three tents already there. One last descent, another river crossing and I was there at Boston Basin lower camp, a mere five hours after my start. I suppose that's what comes of cross-country travel with a full pack and past-warranty knees.

Being too lazy to press on to the upper camp, I spent the last few hours before dinner scoping out tent sites, setting up camp, wandering up the rock along the cascades and water falls, and recording images of the fabulous views up to Eldorado, Mount Torment, and Forbidden Peak. At cocktail hour, park rangers passed by, checking camp permits, and commenting on the archaic look of all my equipment. Since it was overcast, I didn't stay up late to confer with the stars, but slept to the voices of Boston Creek.

Sunday morning, I got the opportunity to see why the National Park Service makes few claims concerning the Boston Basin climber's trail. From the junction of the lower camp side trail with the main trail, everything goes pleasantly for about a quarter mile, then there's a river crossing and things start to change. After a bit, there's a 100-200 yard wide avalanche track that requires negotiation: for the most part, the correct direction is obvious, but the timber-strewn course demands a degree of backpacker gymnastics. Shortly thereafter there's a steep stretch, and a leveling off. Then, perhaps a little less than a mile from the trailhead, the way dives down chutes where low slung cedars and alders press heavily on heads and packs. You might be inclined to speculate as to what misanthrope charted this path, and what it must be like in rotten weather. Eventually, the trail flattened, and the final half mile to the road is fine. Once I hit the road, it was 3/4 mile and about 500 feet up to my trusty car, which greeted my arrival with equanimity. We drove home with me replaying images of the gorgeous North Cascades in my mind, and my car humming to itself.