Trappers Peak

After last week’s ignominious defeat on our attempt to summit Luna Peak (we didn’t even get close), we had to come back. If we couldn’t gaze in wonderment at the spiky spires of the Southern Pickets from the north side, perhaps we could view them from the south side. Our solution, summit Trappers Peak and look north. Visions of granite peaks enveloped us as we planned to not only see the Southern Pickets, but also Mt. Triumph and Mt. Despair, and the three Thornton Lakes, all tiered in ascending rocky alpine bowls.

The trailhead to Trappers is a long drive from the Seattle area for a day hike. I have done it before but didn’t look forward to that solution. Perhaps we could camp at Thornton Lakes and summit on day two? We couldn’t get a Thornton camp permit which led to a better solution. We scored the single remaining available reservation for a walk-in camp at Newhalem Campground. It was perfect! Easy car camping and Thornton Lake Road was only minutes away. And we wouldn’t have to haul our heavy overnight packs up and down to Thornton Lake. Why didn’t we think of that before?

We settled in at the campsite picnic table and carbo-loaded with spaghetti with meatballs and a tasty Argentine Malbec. And, wonder of wonders, very few bugs! After dinner, we pulled out various maps and planned future trips. Our mood was auspicious. The route tomorrow would require no bushwhacking. We slept that night with summit dreams. Arising at 6:00 am we planned to be at the trailhead by 7:30 am. Reality? Closer to 8:00 am. The graveled road to the trailhead is exactly five miles and is steep and furrowed with washboards and potholes. I figured 15 to 20 minutes. It took closer to 24 minutes because we didn’t want to wreck the car. I recommend high-clearance AWD. To provide some perspective, the elevation at the campground was 650 ft. The elevation at the trailhead was 2,641 ft. (as measured by my Suunto sport watch). That is a fair amount of gain in 5 miles. The trailhead parking lot is small with a capacity of 10 to 12 cars, not counting road parking. We were the sixth car.

The air was cool and the hike along the decommissioned road was often a single trail. We crossed several good water sources, two in succession just past the one-mile point, the second having a classic single log bridge with a handrail. While some may describe this section as flat, it gains about 550 feet in the 2.2 miles before the end of the road. Then the trail gets down to business, ascending about 1,850 feet in the roughly 2.35 additional miles to the trail split post for Thornton Lake and Trappers Peak. Just looking at the stats does not adequately convey the difficulty. The woodland terrain is a veritable rock and root fest. The kind of trail where you spend a lot of time looking down, both ascending and descending. 

There is another picturesque creek crossing at about 3.75 miles, just prior to the National Park signpost, and an opportunity to filter more water as the trail up Trappers soon emerges into full sun and can get hot. You’ll want to stay hydrated. Another signpost announces the trail split to either Trappers Peak or Thornton Lake (the lower of the three) at 4.55 miles and 5,050 ft. elevation.

Ascending Trappers takes another roughly .8 mile from that signpost and 900 plus feet of additional elevation gain (according to my Suunto sport watch). Some of it on an easy-to-follow trail and intermittent sections with steep scrambling. The crux scrambling section comes at about 5,350 ft. The steep rock pitches upward against a granite wall on the left. The route narrows into a chimney-like formation. Fortunately, there are several sturdy tree limbs on the right, available to grab onto. Once past the crux, there are still a couple of steep sections and some exposure. One is a short traverse along a narrow granite rib with exposure on both sides. It’s easily doable as long as you’re paying attention. For those of us without exceptional abilities, it simply means that we’ll be taking it a bit slower. The route is actually easier to follow on the way down, as is the descent of the crux chimney section.

So, what about the summit? Once arriving at the top, it was an exhilarating surprise to see such a magnificent panorama of spiky peaks surrounding Trappers. Think of your favorite superlatives. They all apply here. Simply jaw-droppingly beautiful! And, the summit is spacious, with room to roam. As I set up my tripod to shoot frames for my planned spherical panoramas, I noticed the weather was changing. I wanted some clouds for visual structure but there were far more than I had envisioned, the sun at moments peeking through and at other times obscured by the enveloping clouds. The summit peaks of the Southern Pickets were shrouded by the drifting white stuff, but the east face of Mt. Triumph jutted proudly before us. The upper Thornton Lake, ensconced in a steep granite bowl, still had ice on the surface. Completely entranced, we stayed, snacking, exploring, and photographing for an hour and a half before heading down. None of us wanted to leave.

As we descended the clouds continued to accumulate. We did not hike down to the lake on our way out. Although the summit is only 5,966 ft., the mountain views are some of the finest in the state. The hike is more physically challenging than the stats suggest (10.6 miles RT, 3,500 ft. cumulative elevation gain). Little elevation is gained in the first two-plus miles and the balance ascends with a purpose, the terrain often rough and sometimes steep and in places, exposed. That being said, it’s a very accessible summit for the experienced hiker and scrambler. We all loved it. Laissez les bon temps rouler!

 

Luna Peak Dreams

“Let’s do the Pickets.” Mark’s enthusiasm was so infectious that I replied without pause, “Luna Peak!” And, that was that. After a week of quick planning, securing an overnight permit for Luna Camp, and making Ross Lake water taxi reservations, we packed up and headed north.

Our mission was to summit Luna Peak, the highest peak in the Picket range area, to experience the dramatic views of the spiky peaks of the Northern and Southern Pickets. Instead of a quick trip, we decided to take five days. I chuckled to myself that instead of attempting an FKT, the fastest known time, we were going for an SKT, the slowest known time. We would surely be contenders.

The plan was to take the water taxi up Ross Lake to the Big Beaver Camp for drop-off at the dock. Then hike 10 miles up the Big Beaver Trail to make Luna Camp on day one (August 17^th). Our day 2 goal was to backpack cross country up 1,700 feet of elevation gain to establish our Access Creek Camp in a basin near the headwaters of Access Creek. On day 3 we’d ascend 4,100 feet to the summit of Luna, with light day packs, and return to our camp for another night. On the morning of day 4, we’d descend from Access Creek Camp back to Luna Camp for the night, and hike out to the dock for water taxi pick-up on day 5. It was a good plan that parceled out the challenging journey into bite-sized chunks. It seemed easy and doable from my home in the greater Seattle area. But like so many mountain adventures in the North Cascades, the plan blew up.

We left at the crack of dawn and drove to the Marblemount Ranger Station to pick up our pre-reserved Luna Camp permit. We arrived around 8:00 am to find a host of hikers milling about, waiting for walkup permits. It was a ‘please take a number’ situation, literally. So, I took a number and waited. The time cushion from our early start was evaporating. We had a 9:45 am water taxi reservation at Ross Lake. The guy said we needed to be on time or we’d have to wait until 12:30 pm for the next opportunity.

When I got to the Marblemount Ranger Station permit desk the ranger asked if we had ice axes and helmets. We did not. The ranger frowned. GPS and/or locator beacons? No. Another frown. Bear cans or bags? Yes. A smile. Had we bushwhacked before? Why yes, we had. Another smile. Did we bring blue bags? No. Another frown. So, the ranger gave us enough for our party of four for two nights at Access Creek Camp. I assured the ranger that we had long mountaineering experience and wouldn’t do anything stupid. The process was impressively thorough but chewed up more time than I had anticipated.

On the road from Marblemount to the Ross Lake parking lot, at mile 134, we encountered three separate road crews working on repaving. Three stop-and-wait situations occurred, all with a slow drive following the lead truck through each of the one-lane sections. More time evaporating. A nail-biter. We finally got to the parking lot and found what looked like the last space. We shouldered our packs and hauled ass down the trail to the dock. The trail was actually quite beautiful but everything went by in a blur as we hustled to meet our water taxi.

We made the hike to the dock in 21 minutes, arriving at 9:41 am, with 4-minutes to spare. No water taxi at the dock. Huh? We waited. The boat showed up at 10:00 am. We loaded our packs and climbed in. With 250 horsepower, the water taxis really haul. A feeling of exuberance enveloped us all as we sped towards the Big Beaver dock. The trip to Big Beaver Camp and the start of the Big Beaver Trail took only 10 minutes. We began hiking a few minutes later.

That Wednesday and Thursday were forecast to be around 90 degrees so we wanted to make time in the morning before the day really heated up. Fortunately, the early part of the day was reasonable. The plan was to continuously hydrate and eat snacks during a single push on the 10 miles to Luna Camp. My Suunto Ambit Vertical 3 read the elevation of the lake at 1,588 ft. So, close the 1,600 ft. as advertised. As we progressed towards Luna Camp, the day grew ever hotter and the last miles to camp were absolutely brutal, even with relatively light 35 lb. packs. We perspired mightily as the bugs swirled around us. Luna Camp at 2,500 feet suggested 900 feet of gain on the hike in. However, the trail periodically gains and loses elevation so my recorded gain for the day was 1,485 ft. Luna camp read at 2,510 ft.

The trail itself has enough plant diversity to please any biologist, complete with gigantic Western Red Cedars and a good variety of fern species. At times Big Beaver Creek is in the view from the trail, and sometimes not. At one section, a few miles in, the water slows into a marshy section, complete with lily pads and horsetail growing alongside the trail. Near that section, we were astonished to witness hundreds of tiny creatures darting about on the trail. At first, I thought they we cricket-like bugs. On closer inspection, we found they were very tiny frogs, between 10 and 15 mm. They did not pause long enough for any decent photos.

There are numerous cold-water sources along the way, as feeder creeks cross the trail. They increase in number as one approaches Luna Camp. I counted six in the last two miles before the trailside Luna Camp signpost. Once there, one descends about 0.3 miles and 60 feet to two tent campsites, and a single campsite for horse campers, all spread far apart from each other. We picked one, pitched our tents, and settled in. The bugs arrived on cue and tormented us as we tried to relax and get ready to make dinner. Although hot and buggy, we were mindful of our good fortune. The bugs could have been way worse, and the air was still and without rain. The camp toilet location was well signed. A fairly new open-topped wood box looked out over a forested area thick with fallen timber, truly a room with a view. The nearby water source was a creek with a shallow pool which we also used to wash and cool our sweaty bodies.

We agreed to rise early and be on the trail to find the brushy backcountry route that leaves the Big Beaver Trail, descending to the water crossing and the intermittent climber’s trail on the north side of Access Creek which would lead us up to the open basin near the headwaters of Access Creek, an area from which we would finally see the cathedral-like silhouette of Luna Peak. That objective would be Access Creek Camp at about 4,100 ft., our base camp for our summit day. Day 2 looked like about 4 miles and 1,600 ft. of elevation difference. We expected to travel slowly as there is no established, well-signed departure route from the Big Beaver Trail, through the brush, and an obstacle course of fallen trees, to the shoreline of Big Beaver Creek. And once there we might find a friendly log to cross, or not, and have to wade. A successful crossing depended on the right log and/or a wadable section. We didn’t know, but we did regard it as the crux of the trip.

The plan was to arise at 6:00 am and be on the trail by 7:00 am. Reality? 8:20 am. We headed up the trail, somewhat confident that we’d be successful. After all, we had many years of mountaineering experience and had read all the beta that we could find from Peakbagger.com, SummitPost.com, and WTA.org. Most reports suggested heading 1.5 miles up the camp marker and then plunging into the brush (small confers, devil’s club, etc.) and a continuous thicket of fallen trees (many quite large), and making way down to the water. Then a shoreside search for a crossing would occur. Some travelers reported finding convenient logs or wading reasonable sections, while others searched for hours for a way to cross. On day 1, we met a couple of departing climbers who had successfully completed their ascent of Luna Peak. As we suspected, they confirmed the presence of negligible snow and no need for an ice axe. They suggested leaving the trail at 1.1 miles up from Luna Camp. They also mentioned a faint trail near a fallen tree. I noted later that I should have asked them to describe the fallen tree so that I might distinguish it from the hundreds of others. What could we expect to find?

Well, we went way further than 1.5 miles and yet found no indication of any trail. So, we backtracked and tried crossing through the brush at the 1.5-mile mark. It was an arduous undertaking and so distant from the creek that we turned around and went back to the Big Beaver Trail. We hiked down and tried again at 1.1 miles, without success. We headed back to a point where we could actually see the distant creek at about 0.95 miles from Luna Camp. To make an easy recon, we left our packs by the trail and made it down to the creek. A steep bluff led us to the shore and there was a crossable log and another two upstream that were higher above the water and narrower in diameter. The creek was flowing fast and deep enough in this section to negate wading. Now what?

We had burned up more miles and time than reasonable to get to the water. But worse, the experience had eroded our confidence. My companion said, “So, we get to the other side. Then what?” Our failure to navigate this one short section had germinated significant seeds of doubt that we’d do any better on the other side. After some consideration, we found that none of us wanted to hike back up to get our packs, hike back down through the brush, cross the log and hike into more brush and get completely fouled up, and lost. I had a map and compass, but there wasn’t a GPS among us, so, we were a bit light on precision tools for navigating the brush with any confidence. Since there was no universal agreement to proceed, we bagged it.

Were we disappointed? Yes! And, we were completely dumbfounded that we hadn’t easily found the right path and crossed the creek. That had never happened to us before. What the F? We settled in back at camp and had dinner with the mosquitos and black flies. At least we had plenty of wine. We grumbled about the day as we ate, yet we looked forward. Always resilient, we conjured up a consolation plan. We’d hike out, catch a water taxi, and head to the Thornton Lakes Trailhead, hike in, and summit Trappers Peak. We so needed to seize some victory from the jaws of defeat. Yes, that would help us feel better. Absolutely!

The next day we hiked out, just missing a drop-off water taxi by 20 minutes. Later, some friendly campers who had rental boats heard our story and suggested that since they were headed to the resort for Wi-Fi, they’d tell them we needed a water taxi. It was a gift to have them do that as we had no way to communicate with the resort. After waiting for 3 hrs., the taxi finally showed up at 4:00 pm and we sped back, a light rain splattering on the windshield. After 10 miles on the Big Beaver Trail, we were not looking forward to that last uphill mile from the dock to the parking lot. We trudged up, loaded the car, and drove away to search the nearby campgrounds for an overnight tent camp. All were full. It was Friday after all. Nuts! We returned to the Seattle area, after a burger stop in Darrington, and resolved to come back, not for Luna Peak, but to summit Trapper’s, for its unique and sensational views of the Southern Pickets.

Dreams and defeat, the never-ending story of so many mountain adventures. Visions of Picket views from Luna Peak were torn to bits during our cross-country bushwhack. The seemingly impenetrable traverse through thick brush, devil’s club, and fallen trees strewn like matchsticks, thwarted our attempt to successfully navigate the route beyond the Big Beaver Creek. Add baking heat, dive bombing mosquitos, and biting black flies. Type 2 Fun. Ha, ha, ha! Another character-building event. We loved it!

Postscript: The physical suffering on this trip was relatively minor, as it could have been way worse. And, no one got hurt. What stung was our humiliation (we’re better than this) and frustration (the impedance of a goal seeking motive). However, the best cure for a compromised mission is that glorious vision of the next.