I’ve wanted to go to the Canadian Rockies since I first laid eyes on them. Via photography. With steady jobs and paid vacation time accruing, we circled a week on the calendar this Spring, set about planning and purchasing, and crossed our fingers.

I monitored the weather anxiously, but in the end, we were blessed with beautiful conditions for the majority of our trip. This won’t be my normal trip report, just basics and photos. We had an amazing time!

Day 1, Saturday, 09/12/09:

~9 hour drive from Seattle to Mt. Robson Provincial Park, via Kamloops (where we stopped to change money and buy groceries). I’d planned on camping that night at either Robson River Campground or Robson Meadows Campground. The river campground was closed for the season, so we set up camp at Robson Meadows after not-quite-visiting the Visitor Centre, which closed at 17:00, just before we arrived. The view of Mt. Robson from the highway was Wow!-inducing. I ran over again to the Visitor Centre to catch the sun set on Mt. Robson’s West Face.

Mt. Robson's summit at sunset.

Day 2, Sunday, 09/13/09:

Up early–but not that early since the earliest we could get our permits at the Visitor Centre was 08:00. After permits for two for two nights ($20) and watching most of an informational video, we were off.

We had 13 miles to go that day in order to make camp at Berg Lake. By far Nicole’s longest backpack (and rivaling our longest dayhikes) and just as long as my final day out of Lower Ice Lake. Our bags were relatively heavy, but the elevation gain (~2800′) was spread over such a distance that it wasn’t too terrible. Except on our climb from Whitehorn Campground past the waterfalls until Emperor Campground…

Once at Berg Lake, we found a secluded site and relaxed.

Nicole surveying upper Robson River as we approach Berg Lake.

Day 3, Monday, 09/14/09:

I woke up early to take advantage of the clear skies, taking a dozen too many photos of Mt. Robson in the morning light. Our original plan was to hike to Snowbird Pass (~13 more miles) on this day. We toyed with the idea of doing a different, shorter loop, but decided on going up the trail to Snowbird Pass as far as we felt like it. Which ended up being about 8-9 miles, round trip. We didn’t make the pass, but the views of Robson and the Robson Glacier were outstanding.

Sunrise lights up the top of Mt. Robson, reflected.

Robson Glacier lake, en route to Snowbird Pass.

Nicole, at bottom left, overlooks the massive Robson Glacier.

Day 4, Tuesday, 09/15/09:

Not looking especially forward to 13 long miles out, but we made it, relishing every descending kilometer marker along the way. We’d thought about camping again after we made it out, but opted to check into the first hotel we found in Jasper. We did laundry, filled up our cooler with the hotel’s ice, and ate the best burgers ever.

A path of stones leads to Berg Lake.

Following upper Robson River.

Nicole, at right, descends into the Valley of a Thousand Falls.

Day 5, Wednesday, 09/16/09:

Jasper to Lake Louise, via the Icefields Parkway, with photo stops. By far the most beautiful stretch of road I’ve driven.  We’d planned to hike Wilcox Pass, but it was closed due to blasting that also had us sitting still on the highway for an hour or more. Instead we hiked Parker Ridge, just south of the overflowing-with-Japanese-tourists Icefield Centre. A nice, easy hike, perhaps 4 miles.  Quite beautiful.  After the hike, we drove down to Lake Louise where we did some expensive car camping and I borrowed someone’s axe to chop our firewood while the bull elk bugled.

Atop Parker Ridge, looking down at the Saskatchewan Glacier.

Dork on cliff.

Waterfowl Lake, on the side of the road.

The beautiful Peyto Lake.

Day 6, Thursday, 09/17/09:

Woke up to raindrops on the tent, packed up the car before it turned to full-strength rain. Rest day it was! We drove to Banff and checked in early at our hotel, bummed around Banff. Expensive!

Day 7, Friday, 09/18/09:

Better weather, but after checking the Park Visitor Centre in town and verifying that Sentinel Pass was restricted to groups of 4 or more, and really not wanting to wait for/hike with someone, we decided to head back up to Lake Louise and climb up Fairview Mountain. Larches were in transition, and we reached the summit of 9000′, just below the cloud ceiling. Just over 6 miles round-trip. Then, back to Banff again via Highway 1A. Wildlife sightings in total: 1 bull elk, 3 deer, 1 porcupine, and, finally, a group of bighorn sheep.

Larch, mountains, and clouds.

Above Saddleback.

Lake Louise as viewed from the summit of Fairview Mountain.

Smile!

Dork at 9000'.

Us.

Day 8, Saturday, 09/19/09:

An even longer drive back to Seattle via Yoho and Highway 1 instead of Highway 5/16. But we returned! We had a great time…

As always, plenty more photos at Flickr.

We hadn’t yet combined car camping and day hiking this summer, and Cousin Bobby’s number of free weekends before his internship ends can be counted on one finger, so it was decided that we’d head out and camp somewhere Saturday and then hike on Sunday. Blanca Lake has been high on my to-do list for several years—basically since I picked up my first 100 Hikes… book. While researching the hike, I found out that the shorter approach to the trailhead via FS63 (Index-Galena Rd) was inaccessible due to a road closure, but the trailhead was still reachable via FS65 (AKA Beckler River Rd). I thought this might deter some people and keep the trail slightly less busy. So it was decided that we’d head up FS65 seeking a suitable and free camping site and hike up to Blanca Lake the next day.

North Fork Skykomish River near our campsite.

Roommate David loaded up the cooler, the back of the Forester was full, and we stopped off in Mill Creek to pick up Cousin Bobby around 09:45 on Saturday morning. After an easy cruise on US-2 through Skykomish, we turned left on Beckler River Rd, which is also a pretty smooth ride, until it first turned to gravel and then intersected with FS63. Along the way there were several choice campsites along the water, but all were taken. Once we turned up FS63, the road became smaller and we were slightly worried we wouldn’t find a nice place to camp. We passed by the trailhead to Blanca lake and came a little closer to the North Fork Skykomish River, eventually finding a decent little grassy campsite with a fire pit and easy access to the water. By noon we were setting up our tents and settling in.

The weather was initially perfect, and three of us dunked ourselves in the cold, clear water of the river. We walked up and down the road and found that we were camped just several minutes before the end of the road and trailheads to Quartz Creek and West Cady Ridge. Clouds were rolling in and the sky was darkening, so we headed back to camp and prepped the area for imminent rainfall. Once it began, we retreated into our guest tent, a $20 ten-year-old Walmart special that David and Bobby would be sleeping in. It’s far from the most waterproof of tents, but it kept us dry enough to play UNO, The Dice Game, and drink a few beers while listening to the thunder. After perhaps an hour, the rain let up and we went to gather a bit of firewood to supplement the stuff we had. Bugs, flies in particular, were an annoyance. We wanted to smoke them out. After the storm the river was swollen and turned from clear to brown. We put off filtering water until the morning and spent the rest of the evening around the fire…

North Fork Skykomish, after the afternoon thunderstorm.

The next morning we broke camp a bit later than we would’ve liked to, but were still at the trailhead and hiking by 08:15. There were several cars in the lot, but we only saw a few people on the way up. Speaking of the way up: it goes up—constantly. The trail starts off and enters the newly established Wild Sky Wilderness, then starts switchbacking for nearly three miles as it gains ~2700′ of elevation. Though we weren’t hiking in the heat of the day and the trail was shaded by giant cedars and firs, it was still quite warm and our progress was slow and sweaty. Aside from the trees, there isn’t much to look at for a while.

Trees along the Blanca Lake trail.

At 09:45 I could make out some snow-topped mountains way off in the south; I speculated it was Mt. Daniel and friends down the Beckler River drainage and up the Foss River way. Around 10:05 the trees started to thin and the underbrush became berry bushes. At this point you get your first view of Glacier Peak to the northeast. If the views of Glacier Peak aren’t reward enough, now the switchbacks stop and the trail climbs a ridgeline until you break into several small meadows.

Glacier Peak.

It’s here that the trail reaches its high point (~4600′) and enters the second Wilderness Area of the hike, Henry M. Jackson Wilderness. Columbia Peak is visible in the distance. We stood—stooped—stopped—to catch our breath once again at 10:25. Now the trail descends, passing by a small pond someone named Virgin Lake. No, this is not Blanca Lake, and even I couldn’t find the energy to lie and say it was. Once past the pond the trail turns into a steep, muddy, rocky route down toward the still-hidden lake. Take your time here, or you’ll end up on your rear, like a couple of members of our party did.

No, Nicole was not one of those that fell. Maybe I was.

And then it appeared! That beautiful turquoise body of water, cliffs, peaks, and waterfalls on all sides: Blanca Lake.

Blanca Lake.

We sat down above the lake at 11:00. I’ve been saying we, but our party would separate and coalesce with the terrain. Cousin Bobby, of course, had been sitting at the lake for more than several minutes when Nicole and I arrived, and David pulled in several minutes after that. Bobby said it was one of the most beautiful places he’d ever seen. I agreed. David said it was nice. We snacked and relaxed. I took photos and admired Columbia Peak, Monte Cristo Peak, and Kyes Peak. Several people were visible along the edges of the lake. A naked man jumped off of a log; so did his poodle.

Bobby scrambled down the rocks to test the water, but the rest of us were content to experience it visually. Had we reached the lake in the heat and exertion of our climb, we would’ve jumped in immediately. But the slow descent had cooled us off comfortably already.

At 11:45, we left the lake and began the climb up to Virgin Lake, which we reached at 12:15. It was [almost] all downhill from there, which was easier than the ascent but a little harder on our now-tired knees. There were the same number of switchbacks on the way down, believe it or not. We stepped off of the trail and onto the parking lot at 13:50.

Blanca Lake must be earned. It’s a beautiful destination that takes a bit of work to get to. It’s not the hardest hike we’ve done, but it’s far from the easiest. Cooler temperatures could’ve made the way up a little easier. Maybe. It was worth it! A great morning in the mountains.

Stats: ~8 miles round-trip from the trailhead (1900′) to Blanca Lake (3972′) and back—Green Trails Map #143 thinks it’s 7 miles, 100 Hikes… says 8 miles, and I have to say it feels like the latter. We gained and lost a total of ~3300′ of elevation, topping out at around 4600′ above Virgin Lake. It took us 2:45 to get to Blanca Lake and 2:05 to get back to the Forester. Hike time: 5:35. Active time: 4:50. Flies successfully swatted: ~100 among the four of us.

As always, a few more photos at Flickr.

On this weekend, we decided to take it easy on ourselves–and I apologize if that attitude trespasses into the following trip report as well.  The plan was to head up to Mt. Baker on Sunday morning after listening to a bit of the Packers game, set up the tent somewhere, and then head out for an easy afternoon hike.  If we were feeling up to it, we’d do a little something on Monday morning, too.

We had a couple of bundles of firewood in the back of the Explorer and marshmallows and graham crackers in the cupboard.  We got ourselves some gasoline and two chocolate bars and headed north on I-5.  The only campground still open on SR-542 (Mt. Baker Highway) is Douglas Fir Campground, which is close to the trailhead we’d decided upon for our Sunday afternoon hike, Skyline Divide.

Mt. Baker from a knoll on the Skyline Divide trail.

After checking in with the campground hosts (who said they’d had to turn away over 100 people on Saturday), setting up camp, and wasting a bit of time, we left for the trailhead.  I suppose I should say that–since I’d mentally deemed this hike too easy–I decided to complicate things by hitting the trail late in the afternoon so that we could catch the sunset, take some photographs, and then hike back down afterward, using our headlamps.  This would be our first time hiking in the dark.

So, sometime after 16:00 (you can see already I’ve let my specificity slide), we left for the trailhead, which is quite easy to get to.  Or, at least, easy to find.  If you’re heading east, it’s a right turn off of Mt. Baker Highway onto Glacier Creek Road, just past the town of Glacier, and an immediate (and signed) left onto Road #37.  Prepare yourself for 12 long miles.  For a while the road is wide and level, following the river to the left, but then it narrows and begins climbing switchbacks all the way to the end of the road.  If, like us, you’re heading up to the trailhead while everyone else is coming down from the trailhead, you’ll be treading near the edge of the road many times, which has the added effect of increasing the drive time.

From the cars on the road, and the cars at the trailhead, we could tell it was a popular trail.  We parked the Explorer at 4300’ and headed up the trailhead at ~17:00.  Fortunately, we’d met more traffic on the road than we would on the trail, and most of the foot traffic passed us in the opposite direction within the first mile of the trail.  Speaking of the trail: when I’d assessed this as an “easy” hike, I glanced at the elevation gain (~2000’) and the mileage (~6) and made note of them.  I did so, though, independently; I failed to note that the trail gains ~1500’ in the first 2 miles, making it a pretty good workout.  Nicole had been led to believe that this weekend would consist of walks-in-the-park, so we took our time on that first two miles, which are entirely and moderately uphill, and in the trees.  At 18:00, we walked out of the trees and into the large ridge-top meadows of Skyline Divide, 5800’.  Views of Mt. Baker and Mt. Shuksan are immediate, but the sun wasn’t yet setting and Spring & Manning said the best views were yet to come, so we continued on.  But the camera was out, and was out to stay.

The Skyline Divide with the knoll and Mt. Baker in the distance.

Looking back at the trail along the divide.

I was looking to set up shop on top of a knoll, which I assumed was directly in front of us, the first bit of prominence along the trail toward Mt. Baker.  Once we reached it, we noticed a small side path climbing to its top.  Here we had to use our hands a bit, and, once we reached the top, we noticed that the main trail was just steps away from where we’d worked ourselves up to, and yet another knoll stood in the distance.  If you’re heading up this way, please avoid making our mistake.  Hopefully that small path will grow in, as it really serves no purpose.  Onward again we went to the next knoll, which was a pretty steep climb.  Views here were excellent, although there was nowhere to set a tripod for unobstructed views of Mt. Baker.  We decided to drop back down to near the first knoll, since views were excellent there and it’d be less territory to cover in the darkness.

Mt. Shuksan and shadows.

Panorama East: Shuksan and Baker.

On the way back, I glanced over my shoulder toward Shuksan, and was stunned by the moon rising right over the top of it.  Now, I knew that it would be a full moon that evening, but I wasn’t sure when it would rise or where it would rise, so I was surprised beyond pleasantries.  Superlatives started and continued for nearly an hour.  Mostly it was just me saying, “Wow!”

Full Moon above Mt. Shuksan.

Let's see that again–this time, vertically.

Include that in a panorama, please.

Take advantage of that remote shutter release!

Not to be outdone, the sun was setting in the West, and it had me spinning like a top.  Mt. Baker, as beautiful as it was, just could not compare to the beauty above Mt. Shuksan and over the San Juan Islands.  Nicole insists I was getting bit by mosquitoes at this time, but I couldn’t feel them.  It was, however, noticeably cooler, so we put on our fleeces and took pictures until 19:45, at which point I agreed it would be best if we got going.

Look west, young man!

Behold! The sun, just setting.

The sky, silhouettes...

...and shadowy ridges.

Goodnight.

I snapped a few of the above pictures on our way down, in near darkness.  As I mentioned earlier, this was our first time hiking after dark.  Nicole was a bit more nervous about this than I, but we both talked without hushed voices the whole way down.  No deadly bear encounters.  At 20:45 we were back in the parking lot, which sat almost entirely empty.  Distance: ~6 miles, round-trip.  Elevation gain: ~2000’, with the high point being ~6200’.  Total time, with many, many pictures taken: ~4:00.

Back in the Explorer, alive.

Once in the truck we made our way quickly down the traffic-free road and headed back to our campsite, where we started a fire and enjoyed s’mores for dinner.  Once the fire was extinguished the moonlight lit up the ground beneath the trees.  We stayed awake late since we weren’t quite exhausted, as we tend to be on our backpacking trips.

The next morning we woke up, broke camp, and drove to the end of the Mt. Baker Highway: Artist Point.  We considered lacing up our boots, but decided that it was high time we were the ones walking around in flip-flops.  The bright sun just above Mt. Shuksan meant that Picture Lake wasn’t cooperative, but we walked around it anyway, and then spent some time walking along the Artist Ridge trail.  We walked maybe a mile or so, and took plenty of pictures:

Trees reflected in Picture Lake. Mt. Shuksan uncooperative.

Wonderful rock formations near Picture Lake.

Table Mountain reflected in a tarn.

Nicole, inspecting the glaciers of Mt. Baker's NE side.

A volcano.

A picturesque volcano.

The view of the North from Artist Point, Nicole reflected.

This area seems like a great place for doing just what we did.  After an hour or so, we got back in the Explorer and headed back to West Seattle.

An enjoyable weekend: great photo opportunities, gained experience, and it was all easy on the feet!  As I write this, the weather has turned.  It’s not making it to 60° today.  If we’re lucky we’ll get out for a day hike on Monday…

As always, more photos at Flickr.

Emboldened by the Explorer’s surprising 20mpg Seattle-to-Aix-and-back performance, and having thoroughly enjoyed WA-410–a road we’d not driven on before–we decided to find a hike in North Cascades National Park for the weekend. This would alleviate the dual shames of having never taken WA-20 (aka North Cascades Highway) past Baker Lake and–the greater sin–having never even entered North Cascades National Park. Hey, we’ve been close…and we’re, you know…and it’s… Gas be damned! We were off early Sunday morning (07:00) after letting our friends’ dogs outside.

Our plan was to pull into the Colonial Creek Campground on Diablo Lake on Sunday morning and set up camp, then head up to Fourth of July Pass and back. We’re currently of the mind that if we’re gonna drive over three hours one-way to hike, we’re gonna turn it into at least a car-camp/day-hike combo, if not a backpack. We even thought–before our first hike, of course–that we might squeeze in two hikes: one Sunday, and one Monday. That didn’t happen.

The drive from Seattle to North Cascades National Park (hereafter, NOCA) via WA-530 (through Darrington) and WA-20 took less than three hours. WA-530 is another road we’ve somehow managed to avoid. Anyone who knows Washington State hiking and is reading this is probably wondering where we have been. Answer: I don’t know, and that’s something we’re working on rectifying. (To further display my ignorance, I’ll say here that I assumed that WA-530 was also the Mountain Loop highway. I started to suspect differently when I saw a sign in Darrington that seemed to contradict me. More on this later.) So: after stopping off for firewood, a corkscrew, two breakfast sandwiches, and an underwhelming stop at the Gorge Lake viewpoint, we were registered at Colonial Creek Campground and setting up our tent at 10:18. Definitely drivable in under three hours; I drive slowly.

Colonial Creek Campground sits right on Diablo Lake, which is a beautiful aquamarine color, on account of its glacial waters. Privacy in the campground ain’t the best–at least if you want to be on the water–but you get flush toilets, fire pits w/ grates, and easy access to the trailhead we planned on using. Definitely a good place for families, and since it was a Sunday, many people were headed out while we were headed in.

We left most of our gear behind, or in the truck, but I insisted on carrying a pack that still had some weight to it–much of it water, we left with 5 liters–ostensibly for training purposes. Nicole had the camera bag and her trekking poles. A few minutes after leaving our campsite, we arrived at the Thunder Creek trailhead at 11:19. We’d be taking the Thunder Creek trail for 2.1 miles, and then turning off and picking up the Fourth of July Pass trail, which would take us up another 2.5 miles to Fourth of July Camp, and perhaps further.

For the first ~1.5 miles, the trail takes you south, along the Thunder Arm of Diablo Lake until it shrinks down to the still formidable Thunder Creek. This portion of the trail is in beautiful condition: wide, level, earthen. You’ll walk among very large trees, the largest of which I’ll hypothesize are cedars. Tree identification: yet another area for improvement. A very pleasurable walk.

Trees along Thunder Creek.

At 12:00 we crossed over the creek and stopped to take a few pictures. Here we saw two other hikers on their way out; we were surprised at the level of solitude on a Sunday in a National Park on a trail so accessible. We’d see more, of course.

Thunder Creek and the view north from the bridge.

Minutes after crossing the bridge, you reach the well-signed intersection of Thunder Creek Trail and Fourth of July Pass Trail. It’s here that the trail starts to gain elevation via a series of moderately steep switchbacks. Views are few at this point, but some do open up within ~30 minutes. We stopped at a spot with good views across to Snowfield Peak at around 12:30 to eat our lunch and apply some sunscreen.

Just a few minutes uphill from there, views open to the north up Thunder Creek and across a just-visible Diablo Lake to a couple snowy peaks that I’m not sure I can identify. We stopped again so I could take a few pictures–time, once again, is not a prioirity–and behind me I hear Nicole say, somewhat surprised, “My nose is bleeding.” I forget what to do and tell her to pinch and put her head back, but then we both agree that one should not put their head back. I’ve got the camera around my neck and the backpack on and Nicole’s fingers are covered in blood, so it takes me a moment to get her some Kleenex. Her nose stops bleeding, but she spits up a little blood every so often as we wonder as to its cause. Dryness? (I should say, once we crossed the creek and began going uphill, the trail became significantly drier.) Altitude? (Less than 2000’ at this point, with maybe 500’ gain.) At 13:10 she gives the go-ahead. We’re off.

Nosebleed point: view north across Thunder Creek and Diablo Lake.

Shortly, the switchbacks cease and instead of working your way away from the creek you run parallel to it, gaining elevation gradually from 2000’ to 2500’ before a second set of switchbacks begin. In between, glimpses of Snowfield Peak’s namesake feature and Colonial Peak to your right. There’s also ~3 streams that cross the trail in this section should you need water. We still had a fair amount, though we were going through it pretty quickly. Earlier, we saw a couple coming down through the switchbacks; the man was carrying one Nalgene bottle, the woman was carrying her purse. What!? Anyway, we didn’t filter water, but the third stream had some lovely little waterfalls, so I took out the camera and set up the tripod. We spent perhaps 20 minutes there, and somehow I only ended up with like four pictures. Strange. We were hiking again at 14:00.

Portion of a small waterfall along the trail.

Just after the above waterfall, the trail starts heading up through switchbacks again, and they don’t let up until you gain ~900’ of elevation (to 3400’) and arrive at Fourth of July Camp. It took us about an hour; we were pretty hot and going through the water we had with no reservations, but we’d arrived to very nice views across to Snowfield Peak’s Neve Glacier (and the waterfalls tumbling from it) and to the south we could now see Tricouni and Primus Peaks, which had been partially obscured by the trees while we made our way up the trail. As hot as it was, it would’ve been a hotter hike if it weren’t for the trees–though they do get in the way of the views. Up top we met a group of hikers and I shared my map with them to help them identify the peaks. Essentials can be fun, people!

Tricouni and Primus Peaks, as viewed from Fourth of July Camp.

And then: catastrophe. The picture above is not notable so much for its quality or artistic merit (though it does give ya’ll an idea of what the payoff for this hike is–a payoff most of the other hikers seemed disappointed with) as it is for its status as one of the last photos taken with my Nikon 55-200mm VR Zoom lens. It hurts me to talk about it, but for the sake of completeness and accuracy, I must. I was setting up the camera and tripod to take some shots across the way, and I apparently didn’t have it properly stabilized, because as I turned to take my notebook back from Nicole, I heard her gasp and the camera crash to the dirt and rock downhill.

When I turned around I could see the lens bouncing down a dozen feet or more away from the camera, which was still attached to the tripod. I stood in a mixture of disbelief and complete masochistic acceptance for a moment before I walked down to retrieve the pieces. I was certain all was lost. Earlier this year I dropped my iPhone weeks after buying it; now, it seemed, the camera was destroyed. As tight as money is, I still seem to find some [credit] to spend on expensive toys. And God punishes me by allowing me to break nothing except from the most expensive of them. The glass on the lens was still intact, but it wouldn’t zoom and it wouldn’t attach to the camera body anymore. I pulled out the kit lens to test the camera. The lens attached, the camera powered on, and I snapped a few pictures. It seemed to be working. So I put it away.

Sadness and the remains of the 55-200mm VR.

The group of hikers that were exploring Fourth of July Pass around us, and others as well, had agreed earlier that continuing on wasn’t exciting. And we both very, very depressed about the camera incident, so we headed downhill with heavy hearts and a pint of water between us. The time was 15:45.

The going was slow but steady through the switchbacks, on account of the descent being hard on Nicole’s knees, but by 18:30 we were back at camp with our boots off and hot dogs on the brain. The total distance, according to the Green Trails Map #48, was 9.2 miles round-trip, with 2200’ of elevation gain (and corresponding loss). The trip took us ~7 hours, including lunch, a nosebleed, photography, and mourning. It was more exhausting physically and emotionally than we’d planned on, so as the S’mores put us to sleep early, it was probably already decided that a second-day day-hike was probably not going to happen.

Early to bed, late to rise. Somehow we slept past 07:00. I got up and took some more pictures with my remaining lens. I’m still planning on taking the camera in for a check-up tomorrow, but it seemed to take fine photographs for the remainder of the trip, as you’ll see below. There’s a family of geese that have become a little too accustomed to handouts, from shore, and we saw a Stellar’s Jay investigating our neighbors’ campsite, but wildlife sightings on the entire trip consisted mostly of Douglas Squirrels. After fending off the geese and spitting our toothpaste into sinks, we packed up the Explorer and pulled out of the Colonial Creek Campground at 08:55.

Reflections in Diablo Lake from Colonial Creek Campground.

Since we weren’t going on another hike, and we’d only driven a small portion of WA-20 into NOCA, we headed east and checked out a few viewpoints (with views better than the hike we’d been on!), Ross Lake, Diablo Dam, and the NOCA Environmental Learning Center. More pictures, and we were back on the road.

Nicole at North Cascades Highway viewpoint, and Colonial Peak.

Us at the viewpoint, with Pyramid Peak and Paul Bunyan's Stump.

Nicole says I look like Ray Charles in this picture. Really?

As we approached Darrington, I remembered the sign that marked the Mountain Loop Highway, and, after pulling off to verify the information, we continued our quest to drive down the unseen roadways of Washington State. Out of Darrington, the highway shrank to a one-lane gravel road that followed the beautiful Sauk River, which has a plethora of great campsites alongside it. We also got to see many trailheads that I’ve read about–most are damaged, and most are access points to the Glacier Peak Wilderness Area. We’ll be going back to this area many times in the future, I hope. Eventually you end up back on blacktop, but there’s still tons of National Forest campsites, great views, and good trails.

We pulled into West Seattle sometime around 15:00 and sank into showers and pizza. We’ve got to stop eating pizza every time we come back–we can’t afford it!

It was a long day-and-a-half, but we got a lot of exercise and saw a lot of new territory. We probably won’t return to Fourth of July Pass, but we probably will return to the Thunder Creek Trail, and we’ll definitely explore NOCA and the Mountain Loop Highway in the weeks, months, and years to come.

Only a few more pictures at Flickr.

After a good week or so of searching guidebooks and websites for a high-altitude trail that maybe–just maybe–wasn’t completely covered in snow, I finally came across a few different references¹ of the Mt Aix trail. Most were at least a year old, and therefore the conditions they described weren’t really applicable to this Spring’s stubborn snows and late melt; but there was a trip report from the end of May at NWHikers.net that was quite detailed. I decided that a month’s worth of southwestern exposure–including the three or four 80-90° days leading up to the day(s) of our hike–would’ve had a significant impact on the snow level, and that if we were lucky, we’d be able to make it prett’ near to the top. With the weather clear and hot, we’d also be able to fully appreciate the views that everyone assured would be there if it weren’t for those darn clouds. So: good weather, good views, and a hike with a difficulty rating I’d have to hide from Nicole. I stopped at REI and bought myself the Bumping Lake #271 Green Trails Map.

Since this weekend was our first wedding anniversary, we decided to elongate the trip by car-camping somewhere near Bumping Lake on Saturday night.

I have to take time out here to mention that this was our first time driving along WA-410, and it definitely will not be the last. It’s a great drive with amazing views. At one point, just after entering Mount Rainier National Park, I believe, there’s a great reveal of The Mountain, which led Nicole to exclaim: “Mother of God!” I don’t think she was very far off.

Mt Rainier from WA-410.

Once off of Highway 410, there seemed to be dozens of side-of-the-road sites along Bumping River, but since it was a beautiful Saturday, almost all were occupied, and we didn’t even bother turning into the Forest Service pay-sites. Just before Bumping Lake there’s a no-fee Forest Service campground called Bumping River Crossing, and that’s where we pulled in for the evening. It had an outhouse and we brought two bottles of Cristalino that we weren’t going to carry up Mt Aix the next day, so it was more than adequate. The campground was populated, but still nearly half-empty, and we settled into a quiet site away from the river and collected twigs and branches for a small but necessary campfire–for the S’mores, of course.

The next morning we leisurely prepared our food and set off for the trailhead. There had been signs posted perpendicular to Bumping Lake Road that stated that roads 1800 & 1808 were closed at the junction, but we found them both open and the few miles up to the trailhead were snow-free and easily handled by the Explorer, and had we driven the Focus, I’m certain that we wouldn’t have had a problem either; our alley in West Seattle has worse potholes.

I forgot my watch at home in a drawer so we had to check our iPhones periodically to get the time. (After we got home and I imported my photos, I realized that the time signatures of my Nikon D40 would give me enough info to make reasonable estimates on travel times, etc.)

I snapped a photo of the trail marker at 09:04, and we were off.

For the first 30 minutes or so, the trail was pretty much a small gravel road, with a very gentle incline. In fact, I did notice some tire tracks, even though this trail is within the William O. Douglas Wilderness. They couldn’t have gone too far, though, because shortly after you enter the Wilderness, the trail narrows and enters the woods. Almost immediately there’s a creek crossing, and at 10 feet wide and only inches deep, even at this time of year, I’d recommend letting your boots get slightly wet instead of trying to maintain your balance with a 20-40 pound backpack across the downed log bridge. Nicole didn’t quite make it across, and on the return trip we both decided it’d be best if we tiptoed through it.

Then the trail begins in earnest, and there’s a few blow-downs to step over. From here on, it’s all switchbacks, some longer than others, and some steeper than others. At the southern end of some of these switchbacks, you’ll come within earshot of rushing water, and there are a few side trails that promise a glimpse of a waterfall, but don’t really deliver unless you feel like going a bit off trail. I could make out a bit of it through the trees, and it was running pretty strong, but I’m sure later in the season it’ll be considerably weaker–and quieter.

More switchbacks–many of which have noticeably been cut again and again by boots–please, stay on the trail! An hour or two in, we were passed by a group of three day hikers headed up to the summit. In maybe another 30 minutes, at 11:27, we ran into the first snow, a small amount alongside a stream that seemed like a great candidate to refill our water supply. We were making slow progress with our full packs, but those packs also meant we weren’t in any particular hurry. We’d been stopping pretty often for breathers and water, and though the trees weren’t completely thinned out yet, it was starting to get pretty warm.

Nicole at the first snow.

For the next 30-45 minutes, parts of the trail were covered with up to a few feet of snow, but in every case but one the trail was visible on the other side of the snow, and easily picked up. In one case, the snow covered the southern end of a switchback, so you started up snow in one direction, and then came back in the other. All were pretty easy, and there was less of this snow on the way back down the next day. It should all be gone in no time.

Jeremy, feeling the heat.

By noon the tree-cover was considerably less and we were well past starting to feel the heat and the weight of our packs. We hiked for another hour or so and came to a very nice campsite with great views of Mt Rainier and a water source. Corroborative reports indicate that this site is probably about 3.5 miles in and over 6000’ up. The boots were off, the tent was up, and Nicole was “resting” by 14:00. That’s ~5 hours since we’d left the trailhead, but we’d stopped for lunch, filtered water, and generally took as much time as we needed to get there. While I was snapping some photos, another day hiker passed us going up, and going up quickly. This hike is hard, but I’m sure it’s a lot less hard if you’re not carrying a full backpack.

Nicole, managing to rest in our oven–or tent.

You can ask Nicole more about that, because sometime between 15:00 and 16:00 we set off toward the top, me with a slightly less heavy pack and her entirely without one.

For most of this time, I’d incorrectly assumed that the highest peak I could see was our destination, Mt Aix. Yes, I had a map. (Later, I assumed that that same highest peak I could see was Bismark Peak; wrong again, it was only an unnamed high point that hid Bismark Peak from view.) Speaking of views, the views of Mt Rainier only got better, and Mt St. Helens and Mt Adams were easily recognizable in the distance, too. While looking at a snowfield on Fake Bismark Peak, I could make out the small speck of a mountain goat, and I got out the 200mm zoom lens for magnification and validation. This was pretty exciting because it’s the first mountain goat we’ve seen, even if it was quite far away.

Our very first Mountain Goat. Awww!

All this time we were making our way up towards Nelson Ridge, and there was much more snow here than at lower elevations. Luckily we had footsteps (though they’d faded from the heat of the sun) to follow, and the going was a little easier with our reduced weight. Still, we kept coming to more snow and at around 17:00 we crossed the most difficult stretch, a small but tall and sharply sloped bank that required kicking in some snow-stairs and more than a bit of balance. At this point, I said, “If there’s another one like that, we can turn around.” That was the last snow we came across until we we had the summit in sight, which actually wasn’t much longer.

Nicole eating snow. The snow would have its revenge.

Within 15 minutes of that last troublesome (for us) snow, we reached the intersection of the Nelson Ridge and Mt Aix trails. At 17:15, and 7200’ elevation, according to the map, it was a great place to stop and snap a few pictures, and maybe even set up a tent. The view to the north was Nelson Ridge, Eastern Washington descended in its logical direction, and to the south I could finally make out the true Bismark Peak and Mt Adams in the distance. West, of course, remained Rainier.

Jeremy at the ridge, with Mt. Rainier behind him.

For most average hikers, I’d say this is as good as it gets. Or as good as one really needs it to get. I’ll elaborate on this momentarily. After 15 minutes of taking it in, we set off along the Mt Aix trail–with Mt Aix still hidden by the high point to your left as you make your way south.

Mt Aix remains hidden behind this point for a few minutes more.

It’s at about this point that the trail becomes very narrow and rocky to the point of questionable footing, and since I still had a pretty large pack on, I wasn’t entirely confident that I wouldn’t slip, trip, or stumble off to the right, which is completely exposed and offers none of the false security of at least a tree to stop your fall. A long-dormant fear of heights took me by surprise, and I dropped to my knees for a few moments to pull myself together. If there’s one thing I’ve learned on this hike, it’s where my limitations currently are! This portion of the trail is pretty short, and after a few minutes of watching myself place one foot in front of the other, we rounded the high point that obscured Mt Aix, which was now directly to the east.

The summit in view, and snow before us.

Here there was a nice patch of of snow, which thankfully didn’t slope too steeply to the edge of the Hindoo Creek basin. Still, the distance to the summit looked quite considerable, and the path visible directly on the opposite side of the snow didn’t look especially comforting, especially after my minor panic attack. To make our decision easier, Mt Adams was now covered by dark clouds, and we agreed that even though we gave up on the summit, we were satisfied with how far we’d come. Maybe we’ll come back some time with a bit more experience and make it to the top. This was actually our first attempt at any summit!

The retreat toward Nelson Ridge.

At 17:45 we started back down, with clouds slowly but steadily working their way north. While looking back at Fake Bismark Peak, I noticed a group of at least six mountain goats along its North-South ridge. I figured pulling out my camera wouldn’t result in anything near a super shot, so we just enjoyed the reward for a moment and continued down to camp, listening to the thunder get closer and closer. The snowbank that I mentioned earlier sent both Nicole and I down to its base on our backsides, one after another, which was definitely not our intention, and we were lucky to stop ourselves with our feet before we went into the trees. It was fun, once we knew we weren’t going to break any limbs.

By 19:30 we’d put on the rainfly and I took some decent pictures of the storm clouds rolling in over Rainier with the sun low in the sky. Then I had to retreat into the tent as the winds increased and the lightning approached. Thunder in the mountains seems to go on forever. For all the noise, the clouds didn’t drop a very large amount of rain–though it certainly did rain.

The storm around Rainier, as viewed from our camp.

Monday morning I was up at 05:15, intent on getting some use out of the tripod I’d carried in. I sat on a nice rock steps from our tent and took photos of Mt Rainier for about an hour. Then I saw a deer on the open slope to the north, but didn’t get any good pictures because I’d had the camera set up with a low ISO and, therefore, longer shutter speeds. By the time I realized what I was doing, the deer disappeared into the trees. Still, another good reason to get out of bed bright and early.

Mt Rainier, up close in A.M.

At 07:30 we were on our way downhill, and by 10:00 we had our boots off and the keys in the ignition.

Check out the full Flickr set here.

¹Mt Aix around the web, with stats and directions:

@SummitPost.
@Peakbagger.
@WTA.
@Attrition.
@NW Hikers.