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.

After seeing friends’ photos from an overnight trip up Sahale Arm via Cascade Pass several years ago—even before we began hiking seriously—the trip has sat almost constantly atop our queue, waiting for the perfect window of time and weather to savor the experience.

This wouldn’t be that.

South and west from near Cascade Pass.

But it wasn’t half-bad, either.

After reading that the Cascade River Road would close September 1st and remain closed through much of October, I set aside the hope that this would be the year that we’d backpack up Sahale Arm and spend the night under starry skies and, instead, settled for a dayhike up to Cascade Pass, or perhaps a bit beyond.  If all I’d read was to be believed—i.e., that I’d run out of superlatives before reaching the pass—we’d be returning for that idealized evening on the Arm, anyway.

Knowing that the trail would be busy no matter what the time, and doing our best to get all of six hours of sleep after watching Inglourious Basterds the night before, we left West Seattle at 06:20.  After stopping in Marblemount in a thwarted attempt at a warm breakfast sandwich, we headed up the 23-mile Cascade River Road stuffing a quarter-pound of Costco muffin into each of our mouths.  Signs along the way warn that the road is primitive, but it’s actually an excellent road, with glimpses up and across the valley all along the way.  At 09:10, just less than three hours after leaving home, we pulled into a large, mostly-full parking lot.  I’d expected views at the parking lot, but I was impressed nevertheless by the dominating face of Johannesburg Mountain, even as seen through our cracked windshield.  Its upper reaches were shrouded in clouds.

Views from the parking lot.

Once booted up, we left the trailhead (3600′) behind us and set ourselves a speedy pace, putting space between us and a party of ~ten that seemed like it was almost ready to hit the trail as well.  The trail ascends numerous—but gentle—switchbacks, and though we heard voices below us from time-to-time, we were treated to a surprising quietness as we climbed.  Our pace stayed quick, slowing only as we glanced over our shoulders down the Cascade River valley (which came into view about forty minutes into the hike) or across to Johannesburg again.

Around 10:30, the trail—no longer switchbacking, now traversing—crosses a large rockfield; pika sounds abound.  Cascade Pass is in sight.

Nicole nearing Cascade Pass.

As we rose to the pass, so too did the voices of those who had stopped at the pass: admirers of the Stehekin Valley and the peaks on either side, climbers off to Eldorado, et al., and those content to take a seat on rock benches and eat their early lunches.  We sat down briefly among the eight—nine—ten there and added our quiet voices to the chorus.  It was 10:55; it had taken us just over an hour-and-a-half to make it the ~3.7 miles and 1800′ of gain to the pass (5400′).

East over Cascade Pass.

Though the views were nice when we reached the pass, in all honesty, the views toward the direction we’d come from (West) were better than those over the pass (East).  Since we’d made such good time, we set off again, toward Sahale Arm, intending to climb only as far as we felt like it, hoping to see Sahale Peak itself and Doubtful Lake below it.

The beginnings of Sahale Arm.

Your friendly neighborhood marmot.

The climb from Cascade Pass to Sahale Arm is by far steeper than the trail beforehand, but not overly difficult.  It is, however, quite rocky, and after ~thirty minutes and an encounter with a relaxed marmot, Nicole decided to turn around and wait for me at the pass.  Her ankle had been bothering her since the weekend before, when we’d backpacked up to and down from Gothic Basin.  Giving the ankle a rest was probably a good idea, as we have a lot of hiking to do in the next few weeks…

I continued up alone, reaching the ridge crest (6200′) and an intersection with a trail down to Doubtful Lake at 11:35.  Here, Sahale Peak and its Arm are visible, though the summit itself remained hidden in the clouds.  I continued several steps further.  Then the beautiful blue Doubtful Lake appeared below me.  I took pictures for a few minutes, turning often to look up the Arm, trying to see just where we’ll camp when we do do this as a backpack…

Sahale Peak in clouds.

Doubtful Lake below Sahale Peak.

Stehekin, or, The Way Through.

I met Nicole back at the pass at 12:10.  She’d been eating Combos, watching marmots, and layering up.  There was a cold wind at the pass.  I added a layer and we headed down at 12:20, stopping briefly to take someone’s photo, and again to take off a layer once out of the wind.

We coasted down the semi-busy trail, coming to a halt finally in the parking lot at 13:45 to use the restroom and take off our boots.  Shortly thereafter, we were off.  A fine day, aside from the parking lot known as southbound I-5.

Heading down from Cascade Pass.

Indeed, this is a wonderful hike with beauty straightaway.  I can see why it is one of the most popular trails in Washington, and I’m looking forward to spending the night up Sahale Arm, hopefully on a quiet, fall, non-weekend day.

Stats: ~9 miles round-trip from the trailhead (3600′) to Sahale Arm (6200′) and back—it’s ~7.2 round-trip to Cascade Pass.  There’s 1800′ of elevation gain en route to the pass, and another ~800′ up to my turnaround point, for a total gain/loss of 2600′—a few hundred feet less for Nicole.  It took us 1:35 to make the pass, it took me 1:10 to climb up the Arm and back, and it took us 1:25 to descend from Cascade Pass to the parking lot.  Hike time: 3:00 round-trip to the pass, 4:25 total.

As always, a few 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.

After “losing” the first weekend in July to my grandmother’s 80th birthday party and the second to a Saturday spent soaking at Breitenbush Hot Springs, we were well overdue for a hike. Sunday was the only day available to us, so we settled on a dayhike at Mt. Rainier National Park.  I’d seen some stunning photographs taken from the Burroughs trail near Sunrise, and yearned for some in-your-face views of The Mountain—on prior trips to Mt. Rainier National Park (Spray Park, Summerland) the eponymous mountain remained frustratingly hidden in cloudcover.  If the weather forecast was to be believed, this day would be different.  It was.

Mt. Rainier and wildflowers from just above Sunrise.

On top of our hike starting at the always-busy Sunrise Visitor Center, we learned during the week that it was Get Into Your National Park Free Day, or some such thing.  So I set my alarm early, had no trouble getting Nicole out of bed, and we were on the road at 04:40.  I love early starts, but even as we cruised through Enumclaw and the tip of The Mountain lit up, I wished we’d started even earlier.  At 06:40, just two hours later, we pulled into Sunrise with our pick of the parking lot.  Ten minutes later, we were on wide empty trails through lupine with outstanding views of Mt. Rainier.  Of course, the views of Mt. Rainier are outstanding from the parking lot.

Nicole above Sunrise.

The trip reports which inspired us to take this trail talked of the Third Burroughs, but various other sources (Green Trails Map #270, 50 Hikes in Mount Rainier National Park, and the signage at the visitor center itself) make no mention of any Burrough beyond the Second Burroughs.  That said, we were set on the Third Burroughs as our ultimate destination, as the ~six-mile-round-trip to the Second Burroughs didn’t sound like quite enough.  The trails are all well-signed, and it’s easy to simply follow the arrows.  After several junctions and a mile/mile-and-a-half of easy walking, we reached Frozen Lake at 07:40.  Along the way we’d seen only two people—a 1:1 people to marmot ratio!

After skirting south of the roped-off Frozen Lake, the trail reaches the First Burroughs and climbs upward for the next ~twenty minutes until you reach the top with sweeping views of Mt. Rainier and the Second Burroughs in the distance and vistas as far as Mt. Baker, Glacier Peak, and Mt. Stuart to the north.

Mt. Rainier from the First Burroughs.

From the First Burroughs, which sits at ~7300′, the trail climbs another ~100′ over the next ~twenty minutes until you reach the Second Burroughs.  Along the way, there is still a small patch of snow to traverse, and since it was still early in the morning—I believe we were the first to cross it—the snow was still a bit hard and we had to tread carefully.  We were glad to have our trekking poles.  At 08:35 we sat down in the stone shelter atop the Second Burroughs for a small snack.  The wind was quite cold atop both the First and Second Burroughs, and we each had a few layers, including our rain jackets with hood up.  Views were amazing in every direction.  At the First Burroughs, we’d met and passed a couple who’d come up via the lower portion of the Burroughs Loop Trail.  After our brief snack, they approached the shelter.  As we were eager to get moving again and warm up, we left the shelter to them and started toward the Third Burroughs.

A fine perch for a marmot.

Me in the shelter atop the Second Burroughs.

From the Second Burroughs, the trail drops a few hundred feet before gaining it all back and then some to the Third Burroughs.  Just after leaving the shelter (and the only people we’d see until our way back up the Second Burroughs on our return) we saw a small group of eight or nine mountain goats, including a big old Billy and four small kids.  After snapping several photos, we moved onward, as the Third Burroughs looked to be a bit of a workout.

Goats on the Burroughs.

Nicole takes in The Mountain and the Third Burroughs.

We climbed through the tundra-like landscape and up the Third Burroughs, several times losing the trail under snow, but always finding it again at the upper end easily.  Again and again we congratulated ourselves on getting up early.  We felt like we had the entire Mountain to ourselves.

Looking back at the Second Burroughs.

Climbing the snowfield on the Third Burroughs.

At 09:40 we reached the top of the Third Burroughs (7828′) and were treated to an entirely new view.  Now much of the lower north side of Mt. Rainier, which had remained hidden, was visible.  Particularly impressive was the entirety of the Winthrop Glacier.  The views to the West, Northwest, and Northeast weren’t to be ignored either.  We sat and lunched (taking care to keep crumbs from the chipmunk), took photos, and relished the solitude for a half-an-hour before we decided it was time to turn around.  It was 10:10.

The Mountain.

Me. And The Mountain.

Winthrop Glacier detail.

I took several steps down the largest snowfield before I dropped to my behind to glissade and Nicole dropped in behind me.  Since I was leading the way, she gained quickly on me, picking up speed with cries of glee and finishing with a 360° spin as we reached the bottom.  It was her first glissade, and only my second (after Spider Gap).  By 10:55 we were atop the Second Burroughs, our pants nearly dry, and the population went from zero to ten, twenty, thirty.  I estimate we saw ~150 people on the way out, with all levels of preparedness and civility—or lack thereof.

Even with all the foot traffic, we reached our car by 12:10 and left the overflowing parking lot ten minutes later.

Nicole on the way out.

Down the First Burroughs to Frozen Lake.

I cannot recommend this trail highly enough.  I also must reiterate my belief that it is imperative you start early.  For the first two-thirds of this hike, we felt like we had the place to ourselves: the vast, barren tundra landscape of The Burroughs, the panormaic views in every direction, and, of course, The Mountain itself, filling the frame for nearly every step of the hike.  The views are there no matter how many people are on the trail, but the atmosphere isn’t.

Stats: ~8 miles round-trip from the Sunrise Visitor Center (6400′) to the Third Burroughs (7828′) and back, with maybe ~2500′ of elevation gain and loss, taking into account the loss and gain between the Second and Third Burroughs.  We at our lunch at a higher elevation than we’d ever hiked to previously.  It took us 2:50 to get to the Third Burroughs, and 2:00 to get back.  Total time on the trail: 5:20.  We saw every Washington State volcano—except for Mt. St. Helens—from the side of the largest.

As always, a few more photos at Flickr.

Somehow, Nicole and I had yet to truly reach a summit. It’s probably because we’d never picked a hike with the summit of a mountain as our destination. On Mt. Aix, we came close, only to be turned back by fear and thunderclouds. At Marmot Pass earlier this year, summiting Buckhorn Mtn. had been a thought until full backpacks and bum knees made us think otherwise. So reaching a summit was overdue, and Nicole in particular really wanted to accomplish that goal.

Mt. Stuart and The Enchantments Range from Navaho Peak.

Cousin Bobby, who accompanied us on our hike to Goat Lake two weekends ago and didn’t break a sweat the entire time, wanted to go out again. We wanted to take him somewhere impressive, as we only have a few more free weekends until his internship ends. We also wanted to make him sweat.

Our friend David, who just returned from teaching English in Mexico for ~1.75 years and is staying with us at the moment, insisted that he had boundless energy and didn’t want to be left behind. He may have been exaggerating, and he might be regretting his decision at this very moment.

Our destination was chosen earlier in the week: Navaho Peak, in the Teanaway area. Like last week, we were unpleasantly surprised to find that Navaho Pass was declared WTA’s Hike of the Week. Undeterred by this obvious and repetitive display of telepathic plagiarism, we kept the plans in place as they were.

So it was that our party of four left West Seattle at 06:00, an accomplishment in itself as far as I’m concerned. Now that I know I can get everyone out of bed at 05:30, it’s just another small step to get them up at 05:00, or even 04:30.

Getting to the Teanaway area is quite easy—it’s barely off I-90 just east of Cle Elum, where we stopped for Safeway deli sandwiches and David ran into the Cle Elum Bakery for some of his favorite cookies. Up WA-970 and the Teanaway River Road we went. Out in the river we saw three beautiful bucks—I jumped out of the car, opened the trunk, attached my telephoto and shot a few frames. It was a great sight.

Deer in the Teanaway River.

With deer on the brain, we started back up the Teanway River Road, expecting to see our trail’s number—#1359—on a sign near a right turn. After driving for ten or fifteen minutes, it became clear that we missed the turnoff, and had to turn around and backtrack. We were looking for Stafford Creek Road, but it is actually signed Road 9703, and while there is a trail number on a sign there, it wasn’t ours.

After that small setback, we pulled into the trailhead parking lot around 08:40 and were on the trail at 08:50.

The trail starts off along the river with several ups and downs, with more ups than downs. There is evidence that an older trail stayed closer to Stafford Creek, but it has been washed out and the trail re-routed above it. There are a couple forks of the older and younger trail. Branches are helpfully laid across the older trail—just stay right and go uphill. You’ll be going uphill the whole way anyway! Tiger Lilies are plentiful along this lower portion of the trail, and give way to Columbines shortly after. This portion of the hike isn’t terribly exciting, offering little views and a steady but gentle uphill grade. Thankfully, the sun still hadn’t risen above the ridge to the east, so we hiked in the shade.

Red rock formation across Stafford Creek.

After a few miles, interesting red formations appear across the river, and the trail begins climbing a bit more earnestly. At 10:40 and 4.8 miles in, we reached the intersection with the Standup Creek Trail #1369. We all were doing quite well, though some expressed doubts about summiting what I’d erroneously pointed out as our destination earlier. Little did we know, we’d be going even higher. We continued on, our party separating by several minutes from time to time, with Bobby often well out in the lead and David bringing up the back. The red rocks across the river first were above us, then across from us, and then below us.

The trail to Navaho Pass, aka Stafford Creek Trail, aka Trail #1359

At 11:30 we came to a beautiful little meadow with purple flowers and a few steadfast glacier lilies. There were a few nice campsites, most occupied. At the meadow, the trail hugs the right side of the meadow—don’t walk straight across it!

After the meadow, the trail crosses a picturesque stream lined with what I’m for now calling Purple Rocket Flowers and then sends you out across a barren moonscape on your final push to Navaho Pass. The rocks here are fascinating, and the scenery entirely different from what came before and what was to come after. At some point below, we’d left the safety of the shade and for the rest of the day we’d be hiking underneath a full sun. I wore long pants and a long-sleeved shirt and escaped with only minor sunburn on my right hand, others weren’t so protected and applied sunscreen, but too late.

From flowers...

...to moonscape.

We took the last several steps and reached the pass at 11:55. The views across to the peaks of The Enchantments were excellent. We snapped a few photos (including some of a couple we’d been playing hiking hopscotch with on the way up) and sat down to eat our lunch. There was a very cool breeze that was refreshing momentarily, but we took shelter behind a few small trees to rest. We looked to the east of the pass at Navaho Peak, which still stood ~1200′ higher. For much of our ~thirty-minute rest, it appeared that we’d be leaving David behind and heading up to the summit ourselves. Then, after food and rest, he stood up to test his knee and pronounced himself fit to continue. We left for the summit at 12:30.

The view north from Navaho Pass.

There’s a trail all the way to the top of Navaho Peak, easily followed. Like the rest of the trail, it’s quite dusty and dry, and small gravel and dust on a steep incline made for slow, slippery progress both up and down. Once again we each set our own pace, though Nicole did end up staying close to David and offering him support. While walking along the ridge, Mt. Adams comes into view off to the south, and then, Mt. Rainier in its glory. To the north, Mt. Stuart, which is mostly hidden at the pass, stands above The Enchantments. The climb was hot and slow. I stopped from time to time to look up toward Bobby—while I could still see him—and/or down to Nicole and David—when I could still see them. I put my bandanna underneath my hat and over my ears. For a while it felt like it was just me and the mountain. Near what I assumed to be the top, there were still two small patches of snow. I’d seen them from below and immediately placed a snowball under my hat. In just another minute or two I saw Bobby sitting atop the rocky summit. Even then I stopped a time or two to catch my breath and take in the view.

Weathered trees and Mt. Stuart.

I reached the summit at 13:20. It felt amazing to be standing at the very top, with unobstructed views in every direction. I showed Bobby the summit register, which we pulled out and signed, an act each of us did for the first time. For fifteen minutes the two of us sat at the summit. Two young women were just below the summit, where they’d been when Bobby arrived. They left as Nicole and David arrived. I was very happy to see Nicole, I knew she really wanted to do it, knew she could do it, and was proud to see her standing on Navaho Peak and smiling. David surprised me beyond words—more cervezas and mole than mountains in middle Mexico, and here he was, up at the top of a mountain with us after just a week in the country! On our hardest hike to date!

Northern panorama from the summit of Navaho Peak.

Bobby cracks open the summit register.

David, pretending to enjoy the summit.

Proof that we were there as well.

We’d come ~7 miles and gained ~4100′ to be at the top of Navaho Peak. We stayed on the top, just the four of us, for the next ~thirty minutes. It was time well spent, and we knew we had a long way to down and out yet.

At 14:00, we left the summit. I gave David one of my trekking poles for the way out, which he accepted gladly after shunning trekking poles on the way up. The way out was long and slow. We stopped to filter a bit of water from below the pass. The group spread out wide as we continued down what felt like a very, very long final several miles. I knew we were getting close when the Tiger Lilies stood at the sides of the trail again.

Going down.

Around 17:30, we all convened at the Forester, used the facilities, and gingerly set ourselves into our designated seats. After we’d set out from the pass to the summit, David had asked if he could drive home. “That depends on if you make it to the top,” I said. So David’s reward for summiting was driving us all home, including sitting in bumper-to-bumper traffic from Cle Elum to Keechelus Lake. And we really wanted to get home…

Which we did, at 20:20, some fourteen hours after leaving the house that morning.

We all pushed ourselves hard on this hike. It was worth it.

Stats: ~14 miles from trailhead to summit and back, with ~4100′ of elevation gain and loss. Our high point was the summit of Navaho Peak, 7223′. It took us 3:15 to get from the trailhead to the pass, and another 0:50 to make it to the summit. Return times were similar. Hike time: ~seven hours.

 This hike took us to a higher elevation than we’ve ever been, with more elevation gained than any other hike.

As always, a few more photos at Flickr.

[Editor's note: Nicole surprised me this morning by having written her first trip report the night before.  Very cool!  Any additions by myself will be noted.]

So, Jeremy has been nagging me to write a trip report or at least a part of one since he started this website. He is so good at it that I never have. And I am lazy. But this is the longest he has waited to do one, so I thought I better help. Here it goes…I have none of the details like the times or mileage so Jeremy can add that stuff in.

We left about 6:30am and picked up my cousin Bobby in Mill Creek (he is interning out here for the summer). I believe we got to the trailhead about 1 ½ hours later, so a total of 2 hours-ish from West Seattle. As we got on our boots, the sky was clear and it was looking like a beautiful day. We started out and just a little ways in came upon a junction, where we chose the lower trail. The two options are supposed to be the same distance, with the lower being a little more challenging.  [The lower trail also stays closer to Elliott Creek.  —Ed.]

The trail was very nice and well maintained. We were walking along the river for much of the hike. I am having a hard time continuing with this part of my report. If only Jeremy were awake, he could assist. It was pleasant and the scenery nice. There were some pretty big trees. I guess that is all I have to say. Maybe a nice little picture would be good here, hon.

The author and her cousin along the lower trail.

Eventually (maybe 5 miles in) we started going up to the lake, so the pleasant walking was no more. There were even switchbacks, but it really wasn’t that bad. Bobby, who by the way is 21 and in very good shape, didn’t even break a sweat or lose his breath. But us older folk did just a little bit. Shortly before we reached the lake, the dudes went off to the right to see a waterfall.  I missed it because I was feeling like finishing up the uphill part.

Once we arrived at the lake, we sat on a log and ate our lunch. All of a sudden, people were surrounding us. On the way up, we had only seen a couple of other hikers. From then on, they were everywhere. Like we have never seen before. But back to the lake… It was beautiful with snowy mountains across the way. After eating we continued on to see the waterfall Jeremy had heard about.  [The waterfall is actually visible from the northern end of the lake.  —Ed.]  That was really pretty too. We saw there were people actually at the waterfall so started out to join them. I gave up due to the muddy steepness, but Jeremy and Bobby went on and got more pics. This entire part of the trail past the lake is unmaintained and a little wild, but worth it to see the waterfall.  [Indeed.  There are several sections with no horizontal tread, sidehills w/ exposure to the lake below, a vegetable belay, and, finally, one crosses over the base of the waterfall itself.  —Ed.]

Goat Lake from Lunch Log. Cadet Peak in the distance.

Below the waterfall on the eastern edge of Goat Lake.

Brushy peninsula en route to waterfall. Foggy Peak at upper right.

Most of our way back down was uneventful. Until the thunder. And then the downpour. Because of that blue sky I saw when starting out on the hike, I left my raincoat in the trunk. I was the only stupid one and therefore the wettest one. We took the upper trail on the way down and it felt like the longest 5 miles (or how ever long it was) ever. It just kept going and going. We all kept thinking we were done and then weren’t. And that was even before the rain.  [After consulting the map, it definitely appears that the upper trail is a bit longer, since it switchbacks on itself to maintain its historical wagon-friendly grade.  —Ed.]

Small waterfall along Upper Elliott Creek trail.

All in all, it was a nice hike. I believe it was 10.5 miles round trip. Plus another mile or so for the extra part to the waterfall. It was very busy at the lake and for the first couple of miles on our way down. If we would ever go back, it would not be on a Saturday. Sorry for the [not] crappy trip report, it was my first time. Jeremy will be back next time!

[Top-notch work by reporter/wife Nicole.  I know we're all looking forward to more of her work in the future.  I'll just wrap up with stats:  ~11.5 miles round-trip, ~1400' of elevation gain/loss.  As always, a photo or two more at Flickr.]

We both wanted to get out of the house and take advantage of the [accurately] forecasted weather. With Spring just beginning in earnest and Nicole feeling less than one-hundred percent, we needed something both low and easy. I’d read of Boulder River in multiple sources, where it’d been referred to as, alternately, an early-season hike and a rainy day hike, and so we decided to make it our first “official” hike of the year.

I let Nicole sleep a little later than I normally would’ve, but we were out the door a little before 08:45 and on the road shortly after filling up the Forester. Directions were easy: I-5 North to WA-530 and a right on French Creek Road. Blink and you’ll miss French Creek Road, though–we nearly did. It’s just past a few newly developed homes; that’s probably very little help.

Nicole on the Boulder River Trail.

In any case, we reached the trailhead at the end of the road at 10:25, ten minutes after turning off WA-530. There were only four or five other cars in the parking lot. After booting up, we were off.

The trail starts off flat and wide and stays that way for around twenty minutes, when you enter the Boulder River Wilderness. The left edge of the trail butts up to mossy vertical rock and the river is off to the right. The trail then narrows a bit, and climbs briefly. Just a few minutes after that, we reached the first falls. I snapped a few pictures, and then we moved on to the larger falls (which I’ve seen referred to as Feature Show Falls) a few yards further, where a group of ~10 people were just moving on.

Feature Show Falls and Boulder River.

River, rocks, and waterfall.

Tributary.

Nicole sat on a perfectly placed bench while I took the small, steep side trail down to the base of the falls and set up my tripod. My widest wide-angle just fit everything in. Conscious that I’d left Nicole waiting, I only spent ~twenty minutes taking photos. At 11:20, we continued.

What Nicole looked like while I took pictures.

After the falls, the trees get a bit bigger and the trail gets rockier and ruttier, and gains minimal elevation. Here we started to see some snow on the side of the trail, but very little on the trail itself. After ~twenty minutes, a gradual decline, and the opening of trees to the sky, we arrived at a third falls, where the large group of hikers occupied themselves. We decided not to stop, planning only to do so for a quick photo on the way back out.

Patches McSnow.

More mud and patches of snow, like the above, followed. We hadn’t planned on going very far, and I had no real sense of the distance that we had gone, so when we came to a moderate blowdown at about 12:00, it was as good as any excuse to call it an early day. The blowdown isn’t really an issue–the trail obviously skirts around the uphill side–but from what I’d read the trail just sort of peters out at an old ford of the river, so we weren’t driven onward to any particular goal.

Blowdown beyond the third waterfall turns away the lazy.

We turned around and began the walk back. We moved over for the group that I believe was some sort of guided tour and let them pass. I took a snapshot of the third falls and the way out was uneventful aside from the multitude of families and dogs. We’d seen almost no one on the way in, but the way out was constant foot-and-paw-traffic.

What I like to call The Third Falls.

Just after 13:00, we were back to the Forester, boots off and glad that we weren’t parked in–there were now cars parked at the side of the road quite far from the trailhead. All-in-all, it was a pleasant Sunday hike, with some good waterworks requiring minimal effort. It was nice to get some mud on our boots (and our car) and check one off the list. I definitely recommend it for an easy, family hike, and encourage you to get there early, or on a weekday, or both, if you want anything resembling solitude.

An hour-and-a-half to get there, ~2:30 on the trail and taking pictures, maybe ~4 or ~5 miles round-trip and ~500’ of elevation gain. I would like to go back and find the end of the trail. Maybe next Spring.

As always, a few more photos at Flickr.

Nicole and I rolled out of bed Saturday morning and drove down near Olympia to visit Nisqually National Wildlife Refuge (hereafter, NNWR). I hesitate to call this a hike, as we passed several baby strollers along the 5.5 miles that make up the large loop of the main trail, but at the very least it was a nice long walk. We arrived around 10:45, after about an hour on I-5, dropped $3 in the registration receptacle, and headed off counter-clockwise on the Brown Farm Dike Trail.

Nisqually National Wildlife Refuge.

The first quarter-mile is somewhat slick boardwalk that comprises a portion of a smaller 1-mile loop. Almost immediately, there are bird sounds around you. Plenty of geese, cranes at the side of the trail, etc. The weather was cool, but comfortable, and the sky was lined with low clouds.

Unfortunately, ever since the ill-fated Fourth of July Pass hike last summer, I’ve been without a telephoto lens of any sort, so for this whole hike, I walked around with an old 35mm manual focus lens on my D40. Not exactly the best lens for wildlife photography. To make matters worse, I saw several photographers hauling around 70-200mm and even 300 or 400mm lenses. Envy! I selected a hike that rubbed salt in an open wound, but early on, we decided we’d be coming back in the future, with a new lens in hand.

Along the Twin Barns Loop.

Not ten minutes down the trail, there’s a fork in the boardwalk to the left that takes one over to the Twin Barns, and back to the Visitor Center, should one want to take a shorter walk. It was at this fork that we saw several photographers shooting up into the trees at lumps we eventually determined were owls. Two or three, in fact. This was exciting, but we couldn’t really make much out. If you don’t have a telephoto lens, I highly recommend bringing binoculars. In fact, I thought that they could be rented or borrowed from the Visitor Center, but I’m not certain of it. In any case, we craned our neck (pun intended) for a while and then walked down to the Twin Barns before deciding to head back to the main trail and continue on.

Nicole on the raised trail North along the Nisqually.

We walked along at a slow pace, stopping for photos, looking into trees or out into the marshes and ponds. The trail comes alongside the Nisqually River briefly, and there’s a destroyed building with a view of I-5 in the distance. The refuge is right off the freeway, and very near a railroad, so from time to time the sounds intrude on your meditations. The birds don’t seem to mind.

No telephoto = all landscapes, no wildlife.

After ~two miles, the trail turns away from the Nisqually River and the larger trees of the NNWR. At this point, Puget Sound is to your right and many ponds and a lot of marshland is to your left. It has a different feel than the first portion of the trail. There were often big birds in the distance that we wished we could identify–hawks or eagles, perhaps. And a weasel bounded across the trail in front of us and down into the water where it swam into the brush and out of sight. Benches are placed along the trail every so often, and we stopped and sat down on one three or four miles in, along the western waterway of the refuge: McAllister Creek.

The view out to Puget Sound.

By 13:30 we were back in our car, eating cheese sandwiches, yogurt, and fruit. The Nisqually National Wildlife Refuge is a great way to spend several hours walking, observing wildlife, and conversing with family or friends. An hour there, an hour back, and ~2:30 on the trail at a very leisurely pace. ~6 miles including small spurs and backtracking. 0’ elevation gain. Only the geese let me get close enough for a decent photograph, and geese are both common and mean.

Cattails.

It was a good day-trip, and we mean to go back. As always, a few more photos at Flickr.

Woke up on a Wednesday with an itch to get out for a hike and take some photos.  Since it was a last-minute decision, and it is February, I wanted to find something close.  Since I haven’t hiked in over three months, I wanted to find something easy.  A visit to Twin Falls seemed to fit the criteria.

The Twin Falls.

Twin Falls State Park is just off of I-90 near North Bend, under an hour from Seattle.  I figured I’d take advantage of the morning’s overcast sky and take some long-exposure waterfall photos.  After packing my bag and making a sandwich, I left West Seattle at 09:00.  Forty-five minutes later I was in the parking lot, along with only four other cars–a great sight, made possible only by my midweek day off.  I was on the trail at 09:50.

For the first fifteen minutes or so, the trail follows the river, which is rocky and clear with its promise of waterfalls in the distance.  The trail then turns away from the river and works its way up a hundred feet or so through three or four moderate switchbacks.  I confess: I was surprised!  I imagined a walk in the park, but ended up getting a little bit of a workout.  At the top of the switchbacks there’s a set of benches and your first view of Twin Falls in the distance.  This spot is apparently ~.75 miles in, and reached fairly quickly.  Up to this point I’d seen two or three people (and their dogs) on the way out.  It was fairly quiet.

The trail drops down again immediately, losing much of the elevation just gained, but it’s only several minutes before you’re climbing again, up several more switchbacks that bring you within earshot of I-90 above.  At 10:20 there’s a large spur to the right, which drops down via a good number of steps to a wooden lookout with views of the falls.  Alone, I set up my tripod and busied myself taking photos for a good 20 minutes, then headed back up the stairs.

As viewed from the lookout.

Up the stairs and a few minutes further, you’ll cross a small creek and find yourself on a large bridge right over the river, with views upstream toward what I suppose are the middle falls.  There’s three distinct falls: the lower falls, seen from the viewpoint; the middle falls, seen from the bridge; and the upper falls, which I’d yet to see, and which you can’t really get a great look at from the trail.  After a few minutes on the bridge, I continued on.

Middle falls from the bridge; upper falls visible in the distance.

After the bridge, which is ~1.5 miles from the parking lot, the trail climbs a bit more, past partial views of the upper falls (which I didn’t even bother taking a picture of).  I climbed for several minutes, wondering if there’d be anything interesting, and cursing myself for not taking a photo of the map at the trailhead.  At 11:00, I reached a level patch and decided I may as well turn around.  I knew that the Twin Falls trail eventually met up with the Iron Horse trail, but I had no intention of making a long hike out of it.  I figured I’d head back and try to find another viewpoint of the large lower falls further downstream than the provided overlook.

Back down river, I worked my way along the hillside and dropped down onto a rock outcropping with a different perspective of the falls.  This spot was 20-30 feet down on three sides, so I cautiously dropped to my knees and spent several minutes taking photos.  You can how the view is different; but for the most part, the provided, safe overlook is plenty good.

From off-trail. I was able to include the bridge in the shot.

At 11:45, I was back on the trail proper and on my way to the parking lot.  At noon, I was sitting in the car eating my sandwich.  And I was back in Seattle before 13:00.  Four hours door-to-door, and I managed to get in ~four miles of hiking and spent a bunch of time taking long-exposure photographs.  It was a good morning.  As always, an extra photo or two 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.