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.

A Monday commitment meant that we were left searching for a Sunday day hike, and this time Nicole made the call: Nason Ridge, right between US-2 and Lake Wenatchee. Actually, she’s supposed to be writing up this trip report, but it seems we’ll have to settle for some of her comments and impressions on this hike toward the end of this entry. Or look for a separate post from her on this topic. So: based on the trip reports, we expected a moderately difficult hike with no snow, decent views, an alpine lookout, and the high possibility of a mountain goat encounter. We weren’t disappointed.

Like many, we approached Nason Ridge via Round Mountain Trail #1529. Green Trails Map #145 (Wenatchee Lake) shows three ways up to Nason Ridge from US-2, but the route up Round Mountain has the advantage of having the highest starting elevation, at 3900’. The trailhead sits at the end of Road 6910, which is maybe 1/4 mile east of the Nason Creek Rest Area–we knew it was coming, and we still ended up missing it and turning around (look for a driveway with mailboxes and a small 6910 sign) . The road up to the trailhead is in suitable shape for most anyone–we took the Focus this time, and had no problem making it the ~4 miles to the trailhead.

We arrived at the trailhead at 09:55 to find five other cars and an outhouse, which we didn’t use because we’d stopped at the rest area just minutes before. We’d left West Seattle at 07:35, and run into minimal traffic, so that’s a little over two hours of driving time. We stepped out of the car to put on our boots and were immediately greeted by hungry mosquitoes. After applying sunscreen and bug dope, we set off. 10:10.

The trail starts off west-northwest through the forest and quickly begins to gain elevation at a moderate-to-steep grade. Maybe 10 minutes in there is a small stream–at least at this time of year. It didn’t look very refreshing, but if you didn’t bring enough water this is the only place to get some. The trail is dry, dry, dry. I was carrying 7 liters of water for the both of us, and we drank nearly all of it–most on the way up. In case you’re wondering, as I was, how much 7 liters of water weighs, the answer is ~15 pounds. So I estimate I was carrying 30+ pounds in my bag from the start; I really need to buy a scale to weigh my bag at home…

Anyway: after about 20 minutes of uphill and evergreen needles we came upon the consequences of a not-too-recent wildfire. Here the trees were scorched silver and skeletal, but time had passed and there was plenty of new growth in the area. Actually, the trail was overgrown in places, and so we found ourselves rubbing shoulders with greenery and doing our best to avoid scratches on our shins. There’s also one or two small blow-downs along the trail, but they’re easily avoided. The trail works itself through the wildfire burn for another 20 minutes or so, turning rocky underfoot in the process. We left the wildfire burn behind us at 10:50 and continued through direct sun and sparse shade–which should’ve been a respite from the heat, but only encouraged the mosquitoes.

Old burn, new life.

At 11:15, we reached the Nason Ridge Trail/Round Mountain Trail intersection. Here #1529 ended, after taking us up to 5200’ elevation in 1.6 miles, with a gain of 1300’. Our destination, the Alpine Lookout, was still another 1000’ higher, but we had 3.6 miles to gain the rest of the elevation, so we felt good knowing that the worst was behind us. We took a left at the junction, and headed west around the southern side of Round Mountain.

Just minutes up from the junction, views open up to the north over Lake Wenatchee and the White River valley, all the way up to Glacier Peak itself. Up until this point, we’d been moving constantly, and so the bugs had only been a nuisance; but here, as we stopped for a few photos and I removed my backpack, they began a full-force attack. They seemed particularly attracted to my sweat-drenched back. I’m normally the lucky one–Nicole seems to have the sweeter blood for attracting bugs. But the bugs on this hike were the worst we’ve experienced this year, and perhaps ever. We quickly decided that the ~20% DEET we’d applied at the trailhead just wasn’t cutting it, and pulled out the 100% DEET Jungle Juice. Mmmm. Delicious, delicious DEET. The stronger stuff seemed to work pretty well, so we finished up admiring the view and started moving again by 11:30.

Nicole looks out to Glacier Peak across the White River valley.

In 15 minutes we realized we were hungry, and sat down for a snack in the sun with views to the south across US-2 to the Chiwaukum Mountains and southwest across the wildfire burn we’d come through. For the next hour or so the trail gains elevation overall at a very pleasant rate–and loses some here-and-there–while you work your way westward along Nason Ridge proper. There are some wonderful wildflower meadows to walk through, but it seems like they’d peaked at least a week or two prior. We saw purples and some reds where there had once been many purples and reds and yellows; I don’t know the names of them yet, except for the red Indian Paintbrushes. We were making such good time through this section that we didn’t even stop for pictures–though I’m sure we would’ve if we’d been here a few weeks earlier.

At around 13:00 we started descending the again-rocky trail to Ninemile Saddle. By this point, we were nearly 4.5 miles in, and so losing a couple hundred feet in elevation that we knew we’d be regaining on the way out wasn’t especially enjoyable. But it wasn’t very difficult. The saddle itself opens to the north again, with views of the surrounding rocky cliffs and slopes. We scanned for mountain goats for a few moments and then continued on. I should’ve taken out the camera at this point.

Minutes later we came around a curve in the trail and met a mountain goat head-to-head. I quickly called to Nicole to close the few steps between us. This goat had a small kid with it, and Nicole caught up just in time to get a good view of the adult–I assume it was a nanny, since it was with a baby–though the kid was only a blur of white into the rocks. We stood on the trail for a few minutes, looking up into the rocks where we could see the goat standing over us. It kept an eye on us as we turned and headed onward, completely satisfied with the hike now that we’d had our first up-close mountain goat sighting.

Our first close mountain goat sighting; he was closer.

In just another few minutes we came to sign indicating the spur trail up to the Alpine Lookout. The trail up is rocky and slightly exposed, but far from scary. At this point, however, we were exhausted, and ready for a relaxing break at the top. We met a pair of hikers coming down from the top who kindly assured us that we were almost there, and then told us that they’d seen several families of goats up at the top, after we’d excitedly stated that we’d just seen some of our own. (We’d also passed–yes, passed–a group of three hikers perhaps two miles earlier–two of whom were wearing bug nets.)

At 13:25 we reached the lookout, where the mosquitoes were the absolute worst they’d been. We’d been hoping for a strong breeze and a break from the bugs, but it wasn’t to be. I snapped a few photos around the area just to keep moving–Mt Stuart and Mt Rainier are both just visible to the south–and then the ranger manning the lookout came outside to say hello and offer us shelter from the mosquitoes.

The Alpine Lookout, Nicole, and Glacier Peak.

From the Alpine Lookout to Glacier Peak Wilderness.

We gladly accepted, and ate our peanut butter and jelly sandwiches in silence while he made calls on his radio to other lookouts in the area. We talked for a little while about his job, recent conditions, the Dirtyface fire of a few years ago (which he’d seen start from this very lookout and we’d seen smoking from Lake Wenatchee), mountain goats, F-18s, et cetera. I think a ring-tone on his cell phone was the theme song to Sugarfoot, which had something to do with Sugarloaf Lookout and reminded me of Arrested Development. While we were talking, the trio of hikers we’d passed arrived to find a mountain goat only feet away from them. We watched them out the window while we talked; having seen a goat already, we weren’t in too large of a hurry to rush outside into the bugs and forsake safety, food, and conversation. Eventually we felt like we should leave him to his work, and thanked him for the hospitality. I grabbed my camera and set off to find the goat, but it’d apparently wandered out of sight after posing for pictures. I gave Nicole back the camera and took one last look around.

Jeremy climbs some rocks for a better view.

It’s a good thing that I did, because I spotted the goat below me that’d been hanging around the lookout before. Normally I don’t stalk wild animals, but since all the goats that hang around the lookout seem pretty familiar with humans, I stepped down from the rock, grabbed the camera, and walked a dozen feet or so down toward the goat. It walked down in front of me–not far away–and worked its way around to my right. I took a few steps up onto a rock to get a better view, and the goat started getting closer and closer. I was amazed. Then, when he was within about five feet of me and looking right at me, I got a little scared. It’s got horns, after all. I backed off; I’m not sure if the goat was just curious, or curious with the intent to kill.

The mountain goat: friend, or foe?

That picture wasn’t even taken with my 55-200mm VR Zoom lens–which, alas, is still broken–it was taken with my 18-55mm Zoom lens. This was definitely a close encounter. I hope we get to see many more mountain goats in the future, but I hope we’ll see them in an environment where they’re not so accustomed to human beings, and so I hope I’ll need a bigger lens…

It was 14:15 by the time we left the Alpine Lookout–we’d spent nearly an hour at the top. The breeze picked up a little bit on the way down, and I was carrying a lot less water, but bad knees kept us from making truly amazing speed on the way out. Still, we were back at the car with our boots off by 16:45. So much of the middle section of this trail is nearly flat that you won’t make significantly better time on the way out.

The total distance, from the Round Mountain trailhead to the Alpine Lookout and back, was 10.4 miles. I believe the lookout sits above 6200’, so the total elevation gain (and loss) was 2300’+. As for the time, it took us ~3:15 on the way up, and ~2:30 on the way down; total hiking time: ~5:45, trailhead to trailhead time, with bugs, lunch, lookouts, and goats: ~6:35. Overall, it’s a great hike. There are excellent views up toward Glacier Peak, and you’re nearly guaranteed to see at least one mountain goat. Most of the hard work is near the trailhead or the lookout. There were a lot of bugs this time, but that won’t last forever. And there’s no water to speak of, so make sure you bring enough of your own–it gets hot and dry. And with those trail conditions, you can count on some dirty legs.

Nicole's legs weren't this dirty, or I'd have pictured hers.

Don’t worry, you can remedy this by driving a few miles to the beach at Lake Wenatchee and wading in to your knees, if not further. That’s what we did, and it’s a great way to cool off and clean off after a good long hike.

As always, there’s a few 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.