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.

The final weekend in September beckoned.  The weather looked to be fantastic.  Unfortunately, Nicole and one of her toenails were at odds with one another, so if anything were to be done, it would have to be done solo.  Somehow I decided that a mere dayhike wouldn’t suffice; this meant I’d be going on my very first all-alone backpack: two nights in Glacier Peak Wilderness.  I actually didn’t give it much thought at the time (that is, before I set up camp the first night in near-darkness and questioned every sound I thought I heard).  It just seemed like the natural progression of things, something that I knew I’d do eventually.

As I may have mentioned in the past, Glacier Peak Wilderness (hereafter, GPW) has held near-mythical status in my novice hiker mind.  Maybe it’s because Spring & Manning called it the last wild volcano.  I suppose that has something to do with it: unlike Mt. Baker or Mt. Rainier, you ain’t parking your Subaru on the side of Glacier Peak.  You gotta hike to get anywhere near it, man.  So when, a week or two prior, I saw a post on NWHikers about Sloan Creek Road re-opening, it stuck with me.  Sloan Creek Road (aka Road #49) had been closed for some time (forever, as far as it concerns me, since I wasn’t going anywhere near it before this summer) and it’s one of the nearest access points to GPW.  So it seemed predetermined that this trip would utilize the opportunity.

Old-growth along the Sauk River.

I decided I’d hike the North Fork Sauk River Trail (#649) on Sunday and spend the evening at or near Mackinaw Shelter, then get up Monday morning and hike until I reached the Pacific Crest Trail (#2000) and take that to Red Pass.  If I could, I’d investigate White Chuck Glacier or climb Portal Peak, spending the second night in the area.  Tuesday morning I’d hike all the way back out and get home sometime in the afternoon.  Since I was leaving the where-and-when with Nicole, I figured it best to stick as close to the plan as possible, and act conservatively.

Sunday morning’s departure was slightly postponed due to an uncooperative Green Bay Packers game.  Instead of putting it away early (or imploding immediately) they stretched the game out for nearly the entire four quarters.  At 13:15, I finally pulled out of West Seattle.  The drive went by quickly and I reached the trailhead two hours and thirty minutes later, the final ~20 minutes of which were spent on the Sloan Creek Road, which is in pretty great shape–pretty much any car should be able to make it.

At 15:55, I was on the trail, which starts out at 2100’.  The trailhead signs noted sites washed out at Mackinaw Shelter, but some spots open.  The register seemed to reinforce my hypothesis of solitude–it didn’t seem like anyone was going to be around for two nights, aside from a summit pair.  15:55 is a pretty late start for our short autumn days, so I was a bit anxious to make good time and get camp set up for the night.  I should note that my pack was heavy!  I was carrying everything that Nicole and I normally shared, 4 liters of water (even though I was hiking next to a river!) and more than enough food, as I found out later.  The trail parallels the North Fork Sauk River, through plenty of old growth forest.  This part of the trail is all trees and mushrooms, folks.  Some of those trees are in the way: there’s at least 6-7-8 blowdowns on the way to Mackinaw Shelter–some quite sizable, but none incredibly difficult.

Typical blowdown along the North Fork Sauk Trail.

After only a few minutes on the trail, I met some nice women picking mushrooms, and I have a suspicion now that they’re fellow posters on NWHikers.  They said they envied my trip, but I envied their ability to identify non-poisonous mushrooms.  I kept onward, forgoing photography for the sake of timeliness, but I did give some of the many mushrooms names in my mind: trumpet mushroom, sesame seed mushroom, and red bliss mushroom.  At 16:40, I was startled by what sounded like a large explosion.  Maybe it was a gun (but it sounded more like a canon) or perhaps it was an avalanche or a single, giant tree falling.  Whatever it was, it freaked me out.

At ~18:00, I came across that friendliest of trail signs, the one for a toilet.  I thought at first that this was been Mackinaw Shelter, but I hadn’t gone far enough and there was no shelter in sight…plenty of decent campsites, though…  After consulting my map I decided to push on, as the campsites at Mackinaw Shelter were probably only another mile or so away.  At about this time, I realized I lost my sunglasses.  I’d had a hate/hate relationship with those sunglasses.  I’d been really good at dropping them, and it finally happened for the last time.  Just after the campsites, the trail comes to a sizable creek.  This, and my Green Trails Map #112, gave a name to the campsites: Red Creek.  There was no immediately obvious place to ford for those unwilling to take off their boots, like me–there was a good amount of water, and the rocks were spaced and slippery.  I walked along the edge and took a picture or two of the water spilling over a log.  My lens cap fell from my fingers and began to roll toward the water.  I took a stab at it with my trekking pole, but missed.  Now I’d hike the entire time with my camera around my neck, sans lens cap.  Great.  And the pictures were blurry anyway, unsurprisingly.  With that, I set off from rock to rock, just downstream from the trail.  It took a bit of balance, and I decided that on the way back, I’d check upstream as well.

Shortly after Red Creek, the trail works its way down near the North Fork Sauk again, and there’s a small amount of storm damage.  The trail is easy enough to stay with, though.  At ~19:05, as it was just starting to get dark, I came upon Mackinaw Shelter, ~5.4 miles from the trailhead.  It’s an eerie little building in a spooky grove of trees.  At least, that was my immediate impression.  I walked around the area and looked for a campsite.  Apparently there had been some really nice campsites here, but I didn’t see ‘em.  I picked the flattest, noisiest spot I saw and quickly set up the tent with headlamp on.  Being alone was really starting to work on me.  I was hearing noises.  There was no way I was cooking at this point, so I settled for a quickly-eaten peanut butter and jelly sandwich, clapping my hands intermittently and a shouting a few times for good measure.  By 19:40, I was in the tent taking deep, calming breaths.  I hadn’t worked hard enough to exhaust myself to sleep, however, and I ended up turning and tossing all night.  I wondered if solo backpacking was really for me.

I looked at my watch for the first time at 05:00 the next morning–I’d stubbornly refused to look at it any sooner, for fear that it’d tell me I had to stay hiding in my tent for another 4-5-6 hours.  At 06:10 the stars had faded from the sky above me, but I wasn’t up for good until 06:50.  I was in no hurry today, so I made myself mashed potatoes for breakfast and treated myself to hot chocolate.  At 08:45, I broke camp.

Site near Mackinaw Shelter in the morning.

Before and after Mackinaw Shelter, there are some pretty brushy sections, and if you’re going through them in the morning like I was, you’ll get some damp pants.  Once leaving the shelter, the trail turns away from the river and finally begins to gain some serious elevation through the trees for the next ~hour.  The trees start to thin out, providing views across the Sauk and it isn’t long before Sloan Peak is visible in the West.  At 10:00, you break out of the trees into a large avalanche swath.  With that, there’s a bunch of blowdown over the trail, which actually switchbacks through it, so you have to cross two sections of it, not just one.  While it is a bit tedious, it still only took me ~10 minutes to make it past, and you’re able to look uphill at vast meadows that, at this point, are pleasingly near.

Sloan Peak visible in the West.

The avalanche debris, and soon-to-be-visited meadows above it.

After crossing the avalanche debris, the trail continues up through sparser trees, with several blowdowns and increasing views.   It isn’t long before the grade lessens and the trail is out in the big open spaces that are typical of the rest of the trail.  Across the valley, the Monte Cristo peaks rise into sight.  The fall colors were beautiful, and the trail was pleasant.  I stopped at 11:00 to snack and enjoy the views for ~20 minutes or so.  It was around this time that the breeze really picked up.  It was quite gusty from here on up, until the sun started to go down.  Otherwise, the weather was perfect.

Once higher, the Monte Cristo complex comes into view.

Big autumnal colors in the meadows up high.

After my brief break, I reached the junction with the PCT at 11:35, 6000’.  To the right: White Pass and Indian Head Peak.  To the left: an out-of-sight Red Pass.  The White Pass area looked quite inviting, but since I’d gained ~3000’ in the ~3 miles since Mackinaw Shelter, at that moment I didn’t feel like walking a another mile or two to check it out.  I continued northwest on the PCT, picked a blueberry or two, met some wind-resistant marmots, and took pictures en route to Red Pass.

The Pacific Crest Trail.

Sloan Peak.

Looking back toward White Pass, with Indian Head Peak behind.

At 12:30, I reached the pass.  Just below it, there looked to be a pretty pleasant campsite, with some trees for some shelter from the wind.  I wandered around Red Pass and tried to figure out what to do.  I climbed up the small point opposite Portal Peak, which is 6636’ and has an easy trail to the top.  I couldn’t decide if I wanted to continue down over the pass and try to find a space to camp near White Chuck Cinder Cone or over toward the White Chuck Glacier.  It was plenty early in the day, but I was pretty exhausted from carrying the load and the elevation gain.  I also knew that whatever distance I covered today, I’d have to cover again on the way out tomorrow, when I’d have to go from camp to car.  Just returning from Red Pass would be ~10 miles, and I wasn’t sure how much I wanted to add on to that.

White Pass to Red Pass panorama.

Panorama north from Red Pass.

Closest I've been to Glacier Peak.

Glacier Peak and White Chuck from Red Pass.

So I dropped down on the south side of Red Pass to investigate the campsite.  There was one small snow patch, but water was scarce–actually, it had been nearly dry since leaving Mackinaw Shelter, so I’d carried up water.  The site sat quite a bit above what looked to be an upper branch of the Red Creek basin, and several side paths looked like they’d descend, but faded away not far from the campsite.  I finally decided that I’d set up camp, and possibly explore something later that afternoon.  By 13:20, the tent was up, staked in all over the place, and all of my gear (sans food) was in place to hold the tent down.  The wind was blowing.  I took off my boots and took a rest.  The boots would end up being off for the rest of the day.

I spent the afternoon snapping photos, wandering up to Red Pass to look at Portal Peak and Glacier Peak in my flip-flops, filling up pots with snow, and staring at my maps.  I didn’t bring a book because the book I started weights about four pounds.  I was a bit bored.

Wandering around the campsite.

The campsite, in its element.

Colors on the southwest slope of Portal Peak.

So they call this Red Pass, huh?

I made dinner early (~18:00) using a bit of the melted snow water for cooking, but it didn’t look good enough to drink.  I sat around waiting for the sun to set, which it did, right behind Sloan Peak.  Since I was carrying enough weight already (how much, I’d like to know), I left the tripod at home.  But it was beautiful to be up there all alone.

Sunset (1).

Sunset (2).

Sunset (3).

After seeing three people the first day, at the beginning of the trail, I’d seen three people the second day–two on their way down through the avalanche swath, and one person on the PCT above me as I was lying in my tent.  I went to bed much more comfortably then I did the night before.  It may only be in my mind, but camping in open, alpine spaces seems safer (re: bears) than camping amongst trees next to a river.  The stars came out and the Milky Way appeared above me as I drifted off to sleep.

Tuesday morning I was up at 06:15 and broke camp ~07:00.  On my way up the path to Red Pass, I spooked a Ptarmigan.  I’d had my head down, so I only saw it fly away, but it was still the first Ptarmigan I’ve seen.  At Red Pass, I watched the sun rise over the White Chuck, and then started back along the PCT the way I came.  By 07:40 I was back on the North Fork Sauk Trail; at 08:05 I left the meadows and the views of Monte Cristo behind; at 08:40 I passed through the avalanche swath, staying on the downhill side and stopping to finish the sandwich I’d started in the morning; at 09:25 I was back at the Mackinaw Shelter; at 10:05, I forded Red Creek via a small log upstream; at 11:20, I reached the Pilot Ridge junction, and shortly thereafter I spent ~10 minutes talking to a backpacker heading up for a White Pass/Pilot Ridge loop; at 12:20, about 5.5 hours after leaving Red Pass, I was back in the parking lot.

I made pretty good time, but I definitely had an eye out for the final hour or so for my lost sunglasses.  My memory card was filling up, but since I wasn’t stopping for pictures of mushrooms on the way in, I stopped for a few on the way out:

There were many mushrooms more exciting than these.

Like this one, for example.

This trip was a great experience for me, since it was my first time out solo.  Sure, I had a bit of the fear in me the first night, but that’s something that will just take some getting used to.  I was a bit bummed that I didn’t get closer to Glacier Peak, or scramble up Portal Peak, but I wanted to make sure I would make it back alive for Nicole.  I think I will be able to handle future solo trips, but when we can, we should keep it the two of us.  And Glacier Peak Wilderness is an area we need to get into deeper.

Leaving, for now.

Stats: ~20+ miles round-trip from Sloan Creek Campground to Red Pass and back, spread over 3 days, with ~4500’ of elevation gain (and loss).
Day 1: 5.4 miles to Mackinaw Shelter, ~3:00 hiking time, ~900’ gain.
Day 2: 4.5 miles to Red Pass, plus, ~4:00 hiking time, ~3600’ gain.
Day 3: 9.9 miles out, ~5:00 hiking time, ~4400’ loss.

As always, more photos at Flickr.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Looking back at the trail along the divide.

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

Mt. Shuksan and shadows.

Panorama East: Shuksan and Baker.

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

Full Moon above Mt. Shuksan.

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

Include that in a panorama, please.

Take advantage of that remote shutter release!

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

Look west, young man!

Behold! The sun, just setting.

The sky, silhouettes...

...and shadowy ridges.

Goodnight.

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

Back in the Explorer, alive.

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

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

Trees reflected in Picture Lake. Mt. Shuksan uncooperative.

Wonderful rock formations near Picture Lake.

Table Mountain reflected in a tarn.

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

A volcano.

A picturesque volcano.

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

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

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

As always, more photos at Flickr.

When the weekend neared and Nicole brought home a recommendation of Spider Meadow, I immediately and enthusiastically agreed, having seen a number of trip reports earlier this summer about that very location.  A Sunday-night backpack it was.

Spider Meadow panorama.

Spider Meadow sits in the Phelps Creek basin some 25 miles north of Lake Wenatchee, within Glacier Peak Wilderness.  We planned on camping at the far end of the meadow, setting up a base camp, and–if energy permitted–exploring the area up to and including Spider Glacier and Spider Gap.  We took our time rolling out of bed on Sunday morning, and pulled out of West Seattle at 06:18.  Driving over to and along US-2 is approaching autopilot status, and before we knew it we were turning north towards Lake Wenatchee.  It’s just a few more miles before the turnoff up Chiwawa River Road, and then a long ~25 miles to the trailhead.  (We timed this portion of the drive on the way out, and it took ~45 minutes.)

On the way in, only a few miles down the road, we saw two backpackers on the side of the road, and picked up our first hitchhikers.  They were completing the Washington portion of the Pacific Crest Trail, which they’d had to abandon earlier due to injury.  We took them up to Trinity and the Buck Creek Pass trailhead, saving them a whole lot of road-walking.  (Though with the popularity of the trails in the area, they probably wouldn’t have had to wait long for another ride.)  After dropping them off, we turned around and drove up to our trailhead, which sits at the end of Road #6211.  It was 09:30 by that time, putting the drive time just over three hours (including a stop for gasoline and the hitchers).

There were quite a few cars in the parking lot, and some scattered along the road, but a perusal of the registration sheet seemed to indicate that most people would either be camping beyond Spider Gap, or on their way out that very day.  At 09:45, we headed past trailhead #1511: elevation: 3500’.

View west from the trailhead.

The trail starts off gently, undulating through forest interspersed with brushy bits, all the while with Phelps Creek off to your left, and below you.  The trail is in excellent condition, which is a pleasant surprise considering the amount of horse traffic it seems to receive.  That’s a veiled and polite way to say there’s a lot of horse poop on the trail.  We didn’t see any of the offending horses, however.  At 10:45, we entered Glacier Peak Wilderness, ~2.5 miles from the trailhead.  This was exciting, since it was our first time in this particular Wilderness–an area I’m especially enamored with, even if it’s only on paper (and the internet) so far.  At this point, and a few minutes further up the trail, there are several campsites off of the trail, which might be a good option for those who hit the trail late (very late) and are looking for somewhere to camp for an early, earnest start the following morning.

After a break for a snack, we continued on our way, covering another ~mile and crossing a rocky Leroy Creek at around 11:25.  The trail in this area seems like it’s been rerouted in recent years, probably due to flood damage; and just after the [easy] creek crossing, it looks like an avalanche has hit recently as well.  No matter, the trail is in excellent shape; and at 12:15, ~2.5 hours and ~5 miles into our hike, we came out of the trees (which had only provided obscured views west to Phelps Ridge) and were presented with a wonderful wide view of Spider Meadow.  At the height of wildflower season, I’m sure it’s incredible, but I found the September shades of yellow and orange pretty pleasing as well.  It’s here that my camera finally came out of its hiding place–permanently.  We took a quick look at a posted map, which noted all of the approved campsites–and the meadow has quite a few, all of which seemed deserted by the time we got there.  We spent fifteen minutes admiring the view, and while I was looking to the west, across the creek and over the horse-friendly campsites, I spotted movement in the rocks.  Turned out to be a pretty large coyote–probably on the prowl for the many squeaking pika in the area.  We were excited to see it, and after it disappeared into the trees at the south end of the meadow, we set off in the opposite direction.

Spider Meadow, with Red Mountain in the distance.

Beautiful meadow; poor choice for someone's campsite.

By 13:00, we’d crossed the meadow, and came to the crossing of Phelps Creek.  By this point we were hungry, and I was feeling the effects of ill-fated attempt to preempt blister formation with duct tape, so we stopped to eat and I removed my boots, socks, and duct tape.  We ate, filtered some water, and spent a good amount of time enjoying the beautiful day–I forgot to mention that the weather forecast promised a 75° Sunday and Monday!  Some ~40 minutes later we left lunch rock behind us and entered small section of forest with the first significant elevation gain of the day.  In ~10 minutes, we reached the Spider Gap/Phelps basin junction (6.5 miles & 5300’).

Lunch rock at Phelps Creek and the end of Spider Meadow.

We’d planned on camping either somewhere near the junction, or up near Spider Glacier, and since we were feeling pretty well, and it was still early (13:50), we decided to push on and work our way up to what I assumed were spectacular campsites, if they were unoccupied.  This meant that we had a lot of hard work ahead of us.  I knew that we’d be gaining elevation, since Spider Gap sits at 7100’, but I didn’t realize just how much we’d be gaining just to reach our campsite.  The map (Green Trails #113, Holden) goaded me on: a paltry 0.4 miles to go!  After leaving the junction, the trail turns rocky, dry, and steep.  And the sun was right above us, it being mid-afternoon by this point.  Progress was slow; footing was poor.  You know you’re in for it when you see this:

The wall looms large and the workout begins.

We worked our way up to the wall, stopping to listen to rattlesnakes that turned out to be grasshoppers.  If there’s one good thing about this portion of the trail, it’s the views out over Spider Meadow, and the entire U-shaped Phelps valley below.  The trail contours around the wall and keeps gaining through switchback after switchback, each one taking you higher and bringing more of the Entiat Mountains into view.  It isn’t long before Mt. Maude and Seven Fingered Jack are visible to the southeast.  By this time, I’m thinking, Yeah, 0.4 miles–as the crow flies!

Along the wall, north to Dumbell Mountain.

Seven Fingered Jack, Mt. Maude, and Spider Meadow far below.

The trail with September color on each side.

And just when all hope was nearly lost, the trail came around corner and revealed beautiful [empty] campsites, rushing water, and a sign that said “toilet”–all nestled on and around two large rock outcroppings below Red Mountain.  This was the “larch knob” I’d read about!  I yelled back to Nicole, “We did it!”  It took us over an hour to make the climb up, but it was worth it.  The sites were beautiful, and we had our pick of them.  Of course, our pick ended up being the very first one we came to.  At 15:00, we’d found our home for the evening.

West of camp: Red Mountain.

Quite the perch for a campsite.

The view's good from inside, too.

Now, let me just run some numbers.  The elevation at camp is ~6400’–a gain of 1100’ from the junction below.  If, indeed, the last portion of the trail is 0.4 miles, it gains something that works out to 2750’/mile.  That seems awfully steep.  It’s not a friendly grade.  But, as I said, don’t let it put you off!  It’s over soon enough.  Just soon enough.

After a brief rest, and a short argument, I set off solo for Spider Gap, sans water bottle, at 17:05.  Nicole was pretty beat, but I couldn’t be that close without making the climb up to the Gap to look down at Lyman Glacier, Lyman Lakes, and whatever else there was to see.  That, and I wanted the experience of traveling up Spider Glacier, which many these days are diminutively calling Spider Snowfield or Spider “Glacier.”  Hey, whatever: I wanted to climb up it, and I’m going to call it a glacier.  The base of the glacier is just a minute or two away from the camps.  I looked up, and it didn’t look too bad, so I started up the snow.  It was a bit slippery, but it wasn’t steep, and there were some tracks to follow–I was happy, again, to finally have trekking poles.

View up Spider Glacier–only the lower 2/3 is visible.

All along the way, I could see that more than one person had chosen to glissade almost the entire way down, and so I decided that I, too, would attempt my first-ever seated glissade on my return.  The picture above actually shows only the first 2/3 of the glacier.  Once you reach that crest, you’re treated to a short level portion, and then the final and steepest bit that takes you right up to Spider Gap.  Up the entire glacier, I was able to walk straight ahead, but at the top I chose to (that is, had to) follow some tracks that traversed it.

View from Spider Gap south over the top 1/3 of Spider Glacier.

At 17:45, I made the Gap:

First views north over Spider Gap.

Just over Spider Gap, with Lyman Lakes below.

Dome Peak and Cloudy Pass in the distance. Among others.

Looking down on Lyman Glacier. Hope to get closer someday.

I continued on the quite visible trail to the north so that I could see more of Lyman Glacier and enjoy the views.  Just up the trail I met a solo hiker setting up his tripod and settling in to spend the night and capture the sunset.  Turns out he was professional–something about putting pictures on mugs and the like.  We talked a little bit and I tried to have him confirm my guesses at distant peaks.  No such luck, but I had a good idea of them anyway.  I envied his ability to set up and await what would surely be a beautiful sunset on a beautiful location, but I had to get back to camp, apologize to Nicole, and help cook dinner.  By 18:15, I was back at the top of Spider Gap, collapsing my trekking poles, and trying to figure out the best way to slide down a Spider Glacier on my butt.  I figured collapsing my trekking poles would be a good thing to do.  I wondered if I should take off my backpack and hold it in front of me.  I wasn’t worried about stopping (“self-arrest”) at this point, since I’d naturally slow down and stop in the large flat area below the Gap.  Up here the glissade trail was nearly a glissade half-tube, so I settled in and pushed off.  In several exhilarating seconds I was at the bottom!  My first glissade was a success.  I kept my feet out of my way and managed to stay straight on the way down.  I got up and walked to the next downhill section and tried again.  Here, there wasn’t a nice half-tube to keep me on track–it was bumpy and meandering and the slope was gentle to the point that I’d peter out after only a short distance.  I stayed seated, used my poles to push off again, with similar results.  I kept at it, often spinning around and ending up with my head below my feet.  Eventually I got tired of trying and stood up and worked my way down the glacier on my feet, half-sliding and half-jogging.  I still made great time, and was back at camp at 18:35, just ~20 minutes from the point of my first half-assed (pun intended) glissade.

After dinner, the sun started to set behind Red Mountain and Seven Fingered Jack and Mt. Maude lit up across the meadow.  It was difficult to capture, but beautiful to watch.  I imagine the photographer above Lyman Lake was quite happy with the way the evening turned out.

Sundown over Spider Meadow.

Alpenglow on Seven Fingered Jack and Mt. Maude.

We stayed awake until the stars came out–the brightest thing in the southwest sky had us convinced it was a UFO, but it was just the mesh of the tent playing tricks with light.  No doubt, it was a planet.  Which one, I’ll have to investigate.  The night was pleasurably cold; we slept well.

The next morning we overslept dawn, but I managed to open my eyes a few times and see some beautiful color in the direction of Seven Fingered Jack.  Unfortunately, I couldn’t pull myself out of my sleeping bag.  At 08:25, we left camp.  Though we were dreading the descent, we made our way down the steep section and to the Spider Gap/Phelps Basin junction in ~25 minutes.  Huh: I guess maybe it really is only 0.4 miles!  Nicole’s knees held up like gangbusters down it, too.  An hour after leaving camp, Spider Meadow disappeared behind us, and we had ~5 miles of morning forest walk ahead of us.  As we neared the end, we slowed down considerably, since we were both pretty sore and Nicole’s knees reestablished themselves as forces of evil.  Still, we reached the trailhead again at 11:35, just over three hours after breaking camp.  By 15:00 we were back home, ready for food and Monday Night Football.

Great hike.  Could be an easy but rewarding if one sticks to Spider Meadow.  Great campsites all around.  Great views.  Great start or end to a trip of a few nights.

Distance: ~15+ miles round-trip to Spider Gap and back.  The gap was the high point for Jeremy, at ~7100’; Nicole hung out at ~6400’.  Our starting elevation was ~3500’, so we gained ~3600’ and ~2900’, respectively.  It took us ~2:30 to reach Spider Meadow, ~0:30 to cross the meadow, and another ~1:20 to reach the campsites at Larch Knob.  We took plenty of breaks, so our total time from trailhead to tent was ~5:15.  Jeremy’s side-trip from tent to Spider Gap and back: ~1:20.  The way out the following day: ~3:10.

As always, more photos at Flickr.