An Unplanned Plan B

Early October, the good weather season was drawing to a close. Soon we’d be entering the dreary, gray, drizzling soppiness of the end of the year when the hiking is rarely as satisfying. Diane wasn’t interested so I drove solo, having told her that Lake Ingalls was my chosen destination. It’s always good to let someone know where you are going as many hikers go missing every year, and for reasons that we seldom know. I was filled with eager anticipation as I drove up through the Teanaway. The day was bright with sky and possibilities and then…as I approached the unpaved North Fork Teanaway Road I saw a sign. ‘Warning, Road Closed’. There had been a road washout and the route to the trailhead was not to be. Damn it! I turned around, dispirited, and wondered, what now.

As I drove back towards Cle Elem, I thought perhaps there would be another worthy trail nearby. I felt compelled to get in one more hike but surprisingly had no firm Plan B. Why did I not? That’s one thing you should always have, after the 10 essentials anyway. In the Cascades you never know when a forest road is going to be impassible or if trailhead lot is full. As I drove west towards home, I neared the cut off for Roslyn and remembered a hike that I’d heard of, Thorp Mountain Lookout. Yes, I now had a Plan B. Suddenly re-inspired, I turned north onto Bullfrog Road. You may recall that Roslyn has a small café, with a large outside wall mural with a camel that was featured in the TV series ‘Northern Exposure’. The show chronicled the fictional adventures of a doctor who moves to the remote and eccentric town of Cicely, Alaska. After stopping at a gas station for directions, I drove into Cicely, I mean Roslyn, and past the café camel, and then up the Salmon La Sac Road that ran north along Cle Elum Lake. It was new country for me and I wondered what lay ahead.

Crossing the river that fed the lake, I headed up the rough unpaved forest road. It branched off in several directions. Where was I? A green ranger vehicle approached from a distance. Pulling over, I jumped out and waved it down. The ranger was happy to provide directions and I continued up a narrow rocky winding forest road, eyes peeled for the right turn off. Each section of road was less maintained and more remote. I kept going, past a small pullout with a yellow painted road gate. I thought I was on the right road but doubt crept in. The single lane road got even narrower and I knew I’d gone too far. After several small turns, back and forth, I got the car turned around without getting stuck and made my way to the pullout. There was room for three cars. I parked, shouldered my pack and headed past the gate and crossed a rocky stream. A decrepit abandoned road headed left and I hiked on, thinking that I could always turn back if things didn’t work out. Some distance up the road there was a small sign post and a scant trail that headed into the brush along Thorp Creek. I took it.

I was filled with both an exuberant sense of adventure and the dull apprehension that precedes an event when everything somehow goes horribly wrong. Nevertheless, it was too soon to tell and I kept hiking up the sketchy little trail. It felt like a trail to nowhere and to probably getting lost. I was relieved when it finally joined a better trail, a steeper trail that switchbacked up the mountain. The ascent was fatiguing work but accompanied with an increasing sense of purpose and ever-expanding views. It was a hot and thirsty effort and I was overjoyed when the lookout came into sight and I quickened my pace. It was a well-maintained structure, festooned with antennas and solar panels, but shuttered for the season. No one home. Only wispy clouds drifted through the sky and the colors of the quiet scene were richly saturated. I saw one other hiker, another soloist, a fireman from Cle Elum. We talked and admired the panorama of peaks before us, the magnificent Mt. Stuart clearly visible on the eastern horizon. This was a marvelous plan B!

There was only one problem. No one knew where I was. I thought more of that as I descended and finally made my way back into the brushy trail. It seemed even more endless on the way out and at times I wondered if I’d passed a turn off and had become completely lost, destined to wander for countless hours before finding my way out, if at all. Yes, if I got lost, no one would know where to look. Not a smart plan. Luckily the trail made a little dog leg back up to the abandoned road and my worries fell away. Later, when driving down the circuitous rutted forest road I thought Diane would love the hike but hate the road, as it was marginal and carried the potential for real damage to a regular car. The hike had been very satisfying but my efforts in the Plan B department had been totally slipshod and needed work.

Curious, I soon called the Ranger Station to inquire about the status of the washed-out forest road that led to the Lake Ingalls trailhead. When I told them about the warning sign the ranger replied, “Oh, that road was repaired. Someone must have forgotten to take the sign down.”

I did carry my tripod and camera gear to capture some spherical panoramas at Thorp Mountain. They well convey the sense of place. The 360s are hosted at 360cities.net For best viewing click on the ‘Toggle Fullscreen’ icon in the panel in the upper right of the onscreen image. Then scroll to experience the immersive image.

Thorp Mountain Fire Lookout, Final Approach: https://www.360cities.net/image/thorp-mountain-fire-lookout-final-approach-wenatchee-national-forest-washington-state

Thorp Mountain Fire Lookout, The Summit: https://www.360cities.net/image/thorp-mountain-fire-lookout-the-summit-wenatchee-national-forest-washington-state-usa