Trip Statistics
- Total backcountry days: 5
- Total backcountry miles: 42
- Total vertical gain: 12,200 feet (2.3 vertical miles)
- Average Pack weight: 45+ lbs
This is going to be a long, photo-laden post. Read it. More great photos here (the one with 67 images in it).
Day one: I shall be telling this with a sigh
Tuesday I picked up Sarah from work at The Nature Conservancy at 11-ish and rushed to pick up her truck from the mechanic. We were off for a big alpine trip that we’d had planned for a month or so. The goals were to climb Shale and stay night one on the glacier, then bag Buckner, Mix-up, Magic and Johannesburg over the following few days using Pelton Basin as a basecamp. She had a Nature Conservancy meeting in Seattle at 2pm that we were rushing to meet, during which time I would wander around the Market and encounter other strange happenings for the hour and a half she was engaged. I learned during that time that if you pass a bum on the street more than once, it gives him the right to verbally accost you. Dude, just don’t – I own a can of bear spray.
After she was out of her meeting, we booked it out of Seattle for the Marblemount ranger station on Hwy 2 in the North Cascades, hoping desperately that they’d still be open. Unfortunately, we encountered a little bit of traffic on the way. This put us at Marblemount at 6:15 pm, 15 minutes after they’d closed. Damn! No early permits for us, we’d have to find somewhere to bivy for the night and get our permits at 7am when they opened the next morning. No big, we’ll just be a few hours behind, a sense of adventure and the unknown pervaded everything we did – such a sexy feeling. We hit a camp spot where we lit a raging fire under an impressive thunderstorm next to the raging Skagit River. Dinner was prepared by my finest trail companion to date; Couscous with all the trimmings, cooked under stars as brilliant as an acid trip then accompanied by some jungle juice I snuck in my pack for just such a desperate occasion. The juice we drank ensured a fun and interesting evening of inebriation and laughter all night long, providing us with fodder for jabs throughout the rest of the trip. An impromptu u-turn in plans and a great kick-off to a fabulous trip.
At the first bivy after we realized we couldn't get permits until the next day. It was a good night.
Breakfast, day 2. Off to get permits!
Day two: Somewhere ages and ages hence:
The next morning we got up, prepared some food because we knew we had thousands of feet to climb before we even got to glacier camp. We packed up dry bags and tent for the last time this trip and it was off to the ranger station for permits! We made our way back down the road in Sarah’s 4×4 pickup in gleaming morning splendor, fully expecting to be on the trail for our destination in a few hours. Once at the ranger station we asked for permits for Sahale and Pelton. The ranger’s reply was “Cascade River Road is closed as of yesterday”. What the HECK!!! He said that it would open up at 7pm that night, but it would close at 6am the next morning for washout repair, and we could go for a quick climb for the day and get into the Cascade Pass trailhead (our only access point) after 7pm. We got our permits, though tardy by 2 days, and hit up Hidden Peak as a good 4,000 ft climb for the day. The climb to Hidden Peak was pretty superb. Sarah, a veteran of the Sierra and Colorado, Wyoming and Montana Rockies was in for a treat as we surpassed treeline and rose above the mess of sub-alpine tundra into the realm of lichen and stone for as far as the eye can see. I was happy, as I was able to introduce her to the jaw-dropping splendor of the North Cascades. Her awe was impossible to hide. We approached through massive chalk-white boulderfields that I drooled over for quite some time (thank god we brought our rock shoes!) until we saw the peak and the lake. It was time for climbing in the alpine finally and we got some good jamming, stemming and 4th and 5th class free-solo face climbing in getting to the summit of Hidden Peak (around 8,000+ ft). The views of the North Cascades were, like always, not disappointing. I remember being here. I remember the alpine. I love this place. The simultaneous feeling of freedom and insecurity is a joyful feeling. It is the city and a million people that I fear.
Sarah makes her way up to the pass, then onto the ridge traverse to Hidden Peak.
A little free solo for your pleasure! Getting to the summit of Hidden.
Sarah on the summit.
Thousands of bullet-hard boulders with laser-cut splitters EVERYWHERE!!!
We thought ahead and brought our rock shoes and bouldered a bunch. God, it was great to crush such beatiful granite - better than L-town by a mile!
Sarah highsteps her way to victory. The boulders up here were clean and filled with the most beautiful splitters and flakes I've ever seen.
The descent into alpenglow and green meadows filled with wildflowers. Sarah glows for the camera under low crags.
We downclimbed after the summit under a rose-red sunset sinking through shattered clouds on the horizon into the deep blue and then star-speckled blackness overhead. We knew that the Sahale trailhead and our grand adventure awaited with dew-covered firs and wildflowers just for us to discover like Lewis or Clark. We gained Cascade River Road and began the trudge up to the pass in her 4×4 but encountered a roadblock; the road was still closed! We had no option; the universe was telling us that Sahale and friends were not for us to bag this year. Begrudgingly, we made our way back to the Cascade River where there was another bivy on the river that we could chill at until the next morning when we would choke our permit-issuing ranger to death for the bullshit and wasted time. We built a fire in darkness, drank a bottle of wine I had smuggled in for high camp while humming bluegrass and talked of old climbing stories over a smokey fire and headlamps. It doesn’t matter what encumbrances faced us, we saw the beauty in each pinecone, fungus, raindrop and discouraging roadblock. There were still rewards to be earned. Sleeping bags were warm and sleep came swiftly that night; almost as swiftly as the torrential downpours that woke us up at 6 am the next day.
Gearing up at the TH in the Sawtooth Wilderness - trying to dry waterlogged gear out. A cold, cold night awaits.
Day 3: Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, and I,
We made it back to the Marblemount ranger station to kick some ass when a nice girl told us that the road contractor had run into some difficulty and couldn’t re-open the road for the holiday weekend (holiday weekend? What holiday? Labor Day? That’s THIS weekend??? How did we miss that??). All morning I had been devising alternate plans on account of our lack of access to our coveted peaks and for the rain. I thought we should head east where there is no rain – and so we did. We stopped at the Winthrop ranger station after making the drive through mist and cloud. We couldn’t see anything more than the pull-on for the Beckey Route on Liberty Bell, but we got good beta for an out-of-the-way climb up into the Sawtooth Wilderness. Sounded good, sounded like solitude and sounded like it was our new plan! On our way up to the trailhead, we spotted a new lightning-spawned fire that we called into the fire district – our good deed for the day – then we were off, four-byin’ up the old road to the 6 mile approach to Libby Lake and HooDoo peak towering above it. It turned out to be the longest 6 mile approach either of us had ever hiked. Direct as hell, steeper than you’d ever like to hike; the trail was wicked, but we made it! We ascended through four distinct ecosystems: shrubsteppe, montaine, subalpine and alpine; in each place we noticed distinct variations on the same theme – we both love being here. Once we got to the bivy site, the weather was unstable, the temps in the low-40’s and the wind howling through the cirque we would call home for the night. Still, Sarah stripped down and went for a swim in the glacier water that was Libby Lake. All I have to say is that girl is more hard-core than any person I’ve ever, ever met. I managed to do a little low 5th class solo up into the Sawtooth massif for the views and a little adrenalin on fresh screefall and the most mobile talus I’ve ever seen. Once down, I built a fire to dry the girl’s beautiful, soggy blond ringlets and she worked on a fine dinner menu. We sat up watching the full moon rise over the Sawtooth Range and their reciprocal shadows being thrown against the talus slopes of the snarled peaks behind us, then we retired to our bags for some good conversation followed by deep, well earned sleep for the night.
We wre kicking ourselves for not bringing the shoes with us this time. Sarah still gets the beta on this 50 foot slab.
So, the air temps were in the low-40's, the wind was vortexing through the cirque around 20 mph and the water was just above freezing (literally). That didn't stop Sarah from going for a swim. That sexy Norwegian blood of hers.
I did a little exploring. Unroped on choss. Fun! (click the picture to enlarge if you dont actually believe I am there)
Dinner time and time to relax in the cold. We bundled-up, layed out under the stars and watched the full moon rise over the impressive ridge towering above us. Amazing night.
Day 4: I took the one less traveled by
The next morning, after the howling winds and sleet showers of the night before subsided, we ate breakfast bundled in winter snowgear and packed our thangs lazily. We headed down, but not before Sarah took one last dip in the absolutely frigid crystal clear-blue water of Libby Lake. This girl amazes me. The hike down was quick but torturous. I pulled a tendon in my knee and was hurting something fierce. There’s something about a 50 lb pack that will put the hurt on ya if you’re not careful. We finally got to her truck and headed down in a relaxed mood wondering what the next fabulous component to our adventure would be. “What’s next?” she asked? “Let’s hit the Enchantments” I said. We drove south through the desert to Pateros and then through Wenatchee and into Leavenworth where we stopped by the ranger station to inquire about permits. I say “inquire” because by now we both knew that it was Friday before Labor Day and permits would be scarce. The only let five heartbeats into any section of the Enchantments; most spaces are reserved years in advance. There were no spaces for us. Damn.
A little bit of a party at low camp, Day 4. Who's for a good game of cards with dinner?
Sarah sacrificed an old map to make cards. A good game. She won, of course.
Hows about a great big, steaming hot cup of "up"? It got wet all 4000 vertical feet day 5.
We ended up deciding to hump into Edna Lake, underneath the Chiwaukum Range, north of the Enchantment Lakes Basin. The first night we spent at an old spot way up the washed-out road as an advanced camp on our approach. We’d stopped at Leavenworth Safeway and bought another bottle of wine and some goodies since our outing was suddenly getting extended. That night we ate well, dank well, and played rummy using cards Sarah made from a map we’d gotten two days before. Many times this trip I wondered if I’d ever had a better friend in life; we seemed to be a mated pair in every aspect. We slept in the rain, awaiting the sweet splendor of the long, steep 16 miles that lay ahead. It was a wet, fun night.
Putting in contacts in the ice cold rain. The antithesis of a fun Saturday morning. Big climb coming, be prepared!
Day 5: And that has made all the difference
We woke into a downpour of liquid cold, strapped on wet boots, packs and raingear. We’d heard that there was a 90% chance of snow above 6,000 ft for this evening, and we were headed for thousands of feet above that – so we knew it was on – the adventure continues! We were going to get snowed on! We were headed for Edna Lake, under some peak that I forget the name of as of this writing, but that doesn’t matter. I only sort of climbed it (call it diorite choss!).We spent the good part of the morning routefinding using a Green Trails map that was absolutely wrong – making our way up old roads, switchbacks and some good old cross-country work until we found a sort-of established trail after about two hours. We followed it, guessing it was the right one and decided to go in the ‘up’ direction since that seemed to be the most logical choice. Reviewing the map, it didn’t seem to be the right trail! We decided that wherever this trail went was where we were going, so we went with it. It turns out that it was the right trail and after about 8 hours we made the pass into the alpine paradise that is Alpine Lakes Wilderness. The trip up was long and soggy; long because we spent a great deal of time gorging ourselves on blueberries and realizing that some bushes had been freshly chewed on by bears, and soggy because it poured and poured rain on us. We barked and complained and grunted our way up and over pass after pass after pass and through meadow after meadow and finally to Edna Lake under some fabulous craggy peaks that were veiled with swirling clouds. The temps were in the 30’s and we were soaking wet from the day-long downpours. We stripped clothes off, dried out and explored around 5pm after one of Sarah’s fabulous mountain dinners. Sarah and I ended up climbing up a cliff and spending the evening perched hundreds of feet up examining the mile-wide glacial valley below us for bear and elk for about two hours as 50 mile per hour winds swept wispy clouds through the valley at eye-level. About dusk we decided to retreat to our bivy and call it a night, and all I could think about was Sarah’s terrific dinner: couscous with chorizo, mushrooms, kalamata olives, green pepper and all-around exhaustion goodness. We ate together out of the same pot perched on stones placed by some other good people. It was truly a feast of kings and queens. It was now in the 20’s and we could tell snow was coming. We undertook some emergency heat-saving measures and zipped the sleeping bags together and huddled in the cold to share necessary warmth throughout the night. It was a long, warm, rewarding night, but sleep was fleeting for the howling wind.
Did I mention that it was wet? Sarah wrings her socks out below the first ridge on the approach.
At the first pass. Still wet after about six hours of up. We still had a few hours to go, but the rain died off since we were above most of it by now.
We gorged ourselved on blueberries for hours on the way up. Made the pain a little more bearable.
Prepping the evening feast next to our improvised prayer flags. A little exploring was on order after dinner.
Dinner!!!!
Some after dinner soloing on a rotten diorite chosspile. Sketchy!
Sarah and I perched up on a cliff and scanned the mile-wide valley for bears for hours.
Some foot maintenance required.
Day 6: Two roads diverged in a yellow wood (and you know which one we chose)
We awoke at 6am to a fresh inch of snow covering the tent and landscape – the sun desperately crawling it’s way through the clouds. Curled up in soggy sleeping bags we dreaded putting on wet boots with wet socks and trudging through the 20 degree weather to pack up camp, but we mustered the strength to do so. We packed so quickly, we forgot to brush our teeth, but we did eat a cold breakfast under breaking sunshine and fierce winds. The hike down proved difficult as route finding at elevation in the snow was slippery and treacherous, but the lower elevations graced us with simple navigation and the only problem was my newly blown-out knees. We hiked into the lower layer of clouds where it started raining fiercely, drenching us to the bone. This didn’t matter as her truck was only hours away, and an hour away from the truck was some of the hardest-earned Mexican food and beer in the world at South in Leavenworth.
That night the temps were in the teens and twenties. Emergency heat-saving techniques were necessary. It was a long, cold night.
The year's first snow hit us witha few inches of powdery white. A beautiful morning!
The first few steps of the 8 miles back to the truck and civilization. 4000 feet down on busted knees.
The drive home was full of future plans and sleeping, dreaming of the next adventure and dreading tomorrow’s responsibilities. I think I’ve found a partner for life, the entire duration of it, on the trail for sure and perhaps even off. Sarah can kick my ass on just about any terrain; she has more experience, fortitude and balls than I’ll ever hope to have. This trip has reminded me what I’d forgotten about the alpine; the suffering, pain, punishment and torture are not for the light-hearted fair-weather pseudo adventurer; and it always reminds you how small, fragile and insignificant you are. Just rewards for those willing to look deep enough into their souls to see who they really are, who they want to be and where they want to go.
Home.
The Road Not Taken
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that, the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I marked the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I,
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
-Robert Frost
A trillium. The leaves you see are about 1.5 inches only.
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