Shoulder Season

The promise of fall color and a dramatic view of a spiky mountain summit towering over a pristine alpine lake drew me to hike to the top of Mount McCausland this last Thursday. The Smithbrook trail gains elevation through a series of switchbacks up the junction with the Pacific Crest Trail (after about 1.25 miles and 650 feet gain). After turning left, the PCT ambles south through the woodland and finally breaks open near Lake Valhalla.

The trail up to Mount McCausland is the first obvious right just after a first glimpse of the lake. There is no longer any cairn. Just go right and go up. The trail soon steepens and gains elevation rapidly. In the lower sections, there are braids of trails, all of which converge as you get higher. Some areas have big steps and the rock is loose but most of it is good trail. Poles help. After the ascent, the trail runs north along the ridgeline. About midway, the views are to the east and west and not panoramic due to the trees along the ridge.

The true summit hosts a metal summit register box that sits on a north-facing granite prow that drops off on three sides. Access is somewhat circuitous. One way is to stay to the right, on the east side, carefully crossing a section of steep rocks. Stay high and drop down to the trail and hike back up through the trees and skirt toward the summit blocks on a down-sloping dirt trail on the west side. Others may choose to go through the trees which is not as easy. The view to the north is crowned by an alarmingly snow-free Glacier Peak. And also, I could see wildfire smoke from the nearby Nason Ridge Fire.

Fall color and bourbon. Right? Yes! One small surprise was meeting up with a couple of young women and their dogs as I departed the summit. We talked about the circuitous route and I noticed one was carrying a full bottle of bourbon in her outside mesh pocket on her pack. Soon we were talking bourbon and she offered me some. I did not decline. She splashed a generous amount into an empty soft flask that I had in my pack. I took a pull once back at the trailhead and split the rest with my wife after dinner on the couch. Chattanooga Whiskey, a Tennessee bourbon made by her cousin. Very good! Another fine day in the mountains.

The big show was to the to the south, featuring the spiky peak of Lichtenberg Mountain and the azure blue Lake Valhalla. Mountain ash and huckleberries providing the dramatic, breathtaking fall color. The descent back to the PCT was spectacular.

I did take a 360 panorama at the southern flank of Mount McCausland, a view that captures the fall color arrayed before a vista with Lichtenberg Mountain and Lake Valhalla. And also, one at Lake Valhalla on a soggy day in 2016. 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 images.

Mount McCausland, Fall Color Vista: https://www.360cities.net/image/mount-mccausland-fall-color-vista-wenatchee-national-forest-wa-state

Lake Valhalla in the Mist: https://www.360cities.net/image/lake-valhalla-and-lichtenberg-mountain-central-cascades-wa-state

Sky Walking Granite

I have frequently hiked to the Kendall Katwalk via the Commonwealth Creek Trail. This last spring a journey of roots, rocks, snowfields, stream crossings, deadfall, brush, mud, and bugs. And yet, the air was fresh, the streams were talking, the trees were fragrant, the flowers out, and the views sublime. Simply some kind of wonderful! I love this hike!

     The famed Kendall Katwalk is a stunning, jaw-dropping sky walk, probably the most arduous and expensive 450-foot section of path ever constructed. At only 4-feet wide, it traverses across a steep 50-degree rock cliff, with granite walls on the west side and a sheer unimpeded drop of 800 feet on the east. Surrounded by jagged Snoqualmie area peaks, the place demands your attention and begs you to stay.

     The Snoqualmie area section of the Pacific Crest Trail was created to be more “horse friendly” than the old Cascade Crest Trail that snakes up the Commonwealth Creek basin and precipitously drops over Red Pass as it travels north towards Canada. lmo Warren, the Idaho-based lead contractor for the PCT project, called it “the hardest piece of trail ever built.”

     Warren and his crew built a trail up to the ridge and set up camp at Gravel Lake in 1976, just north of the cliff face they would carve. Mules packed in 1,000 feet of steel cables and the 80-pound gas-powered drills that the workers would use as they rappelled down the cliff and bored holes for the dynamite to blast away large sections of the granite. It took them all summer. The result of their work is masterful, a perfect path that cuts straight across the cliff face. The exposure is unprotected as the crossing has no guard rail and yet it is less dangerous than sections of the narrow trail that lead up to it.

     Like Washington State fire lookout towers, the man-made Kendall Katwalk is a destination of distinction and many make the popular day 5.5-mile, 2,700 vertical foot hike to traverse the cliff, admire the views, have lunch, take photos, and return to the trailhead at Snoqualmie Pass. Some ascend Kendall Peak on their way to the Katwalk and others go further to Gravel Lake, to camp, and Alaska Mountain to summit. In the spring, sections of the trail, named Kendall gardens, are resplendent with wildflowers. The more I hike it, the more I enjoy the beauty of the experience. Best savored early in the day and mid-week.

I have taken several spherical panoramas along the Kendall Katwalk. You can experience being there on a clear day without the long hike in. You can even see the drill marks in the central section. 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.

Kendall Katwalk, South Shoulder: www.360cities.net/image/kendall-katwalk-south-shoulder-snoqualmie-national-forest-wa-state

Kendall Katwalk, Midway: www.360cities.net/image/kendall-katwalk-midway-snoqualmie-national-forest-wa-state

Kendall Katwalk, North Shoulder: https://www.360cities.net/image/kendall-katwalk-north-shoulder-snoqualmie-national-forest-wa-state

Unfinished Business

It’s more common than we’d like to admit, not reaching a coveted alpine objective, mostly summits. For one reason or another, we turn back, driven by time, conditions, weather, or the fun meter pegging zero. And then, from the comfort of home, we think about it all over again. What if, and why not, we ask ourselves. And if we’re smart, some of those objectives are left behind as we pursue new, bright and shiny adventures. And sometimes not.

Last week I solo hiked the Rachel Lakes Trail up to the Lila Lakes – Alta Mountain trail split before turning back. I wanted to summit Alta but had run out the clock if I wanted to get home at a reasonable hour. Not happy with the time-consuming, sustained steep roots and rocks in the last mile of the trail before Rachel Lake I doubted I would return anytime soon. I was wrong. My unfinished business gnawed at me and I knew I had to resume my mountain quest.

Just nine days later, on Friday, joined with two friends who were up for an early start, we hit the tail at 6:50 am. The early miles were chilly but we warmed up and shed layers as the steep section started just past the trailside waterfall, about 2.85 miles. We paused at Rachel Lake to enjoy the view and continued up the rocky switchbacks up into the subalpine zone towards Alta Mountain. At about 0.4 miles from Rachel Lake, and 450 feet higher, we passed the Rampart Lakes – Lila Lake trail split taking the right towards Lila Lake. After another 0.3 miles and 100 feet of gain we encountered the Alta Mountain - Lila Lake trail split that is marked only with a small cairn.

We headed left up the steep loose dirt and rocks in the first section of the Alta Mountain trail. The trail continues up the ridgeline towards the summit of Alta Mountain through some alpine meadows that make one want to burst into song. And there are also rocky traverses around several false summits with some exposure that won’t be comfortable for everyone. After a bit more than a mile and another thousand feet of elevation gain, we finally reached the summit cairn. The views from the top were stupendous, probably some of the most spectacular in the Alpine Lakes Wilderness. Some wildfire haze but otherwise perfect, warm, and wind-free. We didn’t want to leave.

The descent from the rocky summit was fun, all the way to Rachel Lake. And then it turned into a tedious slog back to the trailhead. We finished suitably bushed but happy with the accomplishment. Sometimes it’s good to go back. We named the sensational hike: Roots, Rock, Reggae.

 

Trail Abandoned

If you seek solitude in the mountains, sooner or later you’re going to end up on trails less traveled, sometimes one step up from a complete bushwhack, and sometimes in surprisingly good condition. They’re often described as unmaintained trails, abandoned trails, climbers’ trails, boot tracks, and such. So, what does it mean? Are abandoned trails really abandoned? Are unmaintained trails really unmaintained?

No. The official designations mean that they are crossed off the list for those that receive some sort of sanctioned trail maintenance. They’re left to suffer deterioration, overgrowth, and forest deadfall. But some were well constructed in the first place and despite the annual incremental encroachment of nature are still very worthy of hiking. And local hikers and climbers who choose these trails often engage in unsanctioned and informal trail maintenance.

One good example is a section of what used to be the old Cascade Crest Trail that departs from the Pacific Crest Trailhead near Exit 52 off I-90 at Snoqualmie Pass. The new PCT, Pacific Crest Trail, Section J: from Snoqualmie Pass to Stevens Pass was built in 1978 and the old CCT was subsequently designated as abandoned. I have hiked the CCT several times as a way of accessing Kendall Peak and the famed Kendall Katwalk. It’s a shortcut that cuts around 8 tenths of a mile off the first section of the PCT from the trailhead parking lot at Snoqualmie Pass. After crossing Commonwealth Creek twice, the trail ascends switchbacks and at 1.6 miles it encounters a weathered wood sign that says ‘Abandoned.’ It once said ‘Trail Abandoned’ before the left half was broken off. You can either hook right, ascend a switchback and connect with the PCT to hike to the Katwalk, or continue up the old trail to Red Mountain and Red Pass.

This last Thursday we continued up the old Cascade Crest Trail along Commonwealth Creek and up towards Red Mountain. Once at the junction of the CCT with the spur that heads to the PCT the trail to Red Mountain crosses some boggy areas and another stream crossing with a large log. Not long after that, the hike ascends up some steep switchbacks and we gained elevation rapidly. Although the trail is unmaintained it is in great shape. Heading past the Red Mountain cutoff, we ascended narrow switchbacks and crossed a talus field as the trail ran towards a ridge crest to Red Pass.

We chose the hike because we wanted to look at Mt. Thomson. The vistas from the ridge crest near Red Pass far exceeded my expectations and we lingered for photos and lunch. Only two small things marred the day: one was the smoky haze that obscured the longer views and muted all the colors and the bugs that were persistent at the pass. We used Picaridin with some success. After the pass, steep switchbacks descend to the north and the continuation of the old CCT. While we did not expect to encounter anyone, we did see four other solo hikers. Our stats: Around 7.6 miles round trip with roughly 2,300 feet of elevation gain. A very satisfying short hike without the crowds of the more popular hikes and with vistas no less impressive.

I took two spherical panoramas along the ridge crest near the pass and one at a stream crossing through Commonwealth Creek. The 360s are hosted at 360cities.net 

Red Pass Ridge Vista with Trees: https://www.360cities.net/image/red-pass-vista-with-trees-alpine-lakes-wilderness-wa-state

Red Pass Ridge Vista with Peaks: https://www.360cities.net/image/red-pass-vista-with-peaks-alpine-lakes-wilderness-wa-state

Commonwealth Creek Crossing: https://www.360cities.net/image/commonwealth-creek-crossing-alpine-lakes-wilderness-wa-state

It'll Burn Off

The rain continued to drizzle through the cold, damp air, and visibility was closing into near white-out conditions. So far, we’d been traversing and climbing a combination of rock and sun-cupped snowfields and hadn’t needed either crampons or the rope. That was the good news. And then things changed.

We were in the process of descending another immense snowfield, this time looking for White Rocks Lakes, our designated camp 3. As we continued to descend the slope, it became painfully clear that we were off route. We had lost too much elevation and not found the lakes. We were now in a steep section. The surface was icy, it was starting to get dark, and we were lost. Serious doubt crept into my psyche.

We finally stopped, knowing that to descend further would only compound our mistake. It was too late in the day to turn around and climb back up. We had run out of time in our search for the lakes. We determined that this stopping point was going to be our camp 3. We started chopping out a platform for our tent on the icy slope. We worked furiously, hacking away with the adzes of our ice axes.

It took a while. The adze on an ice axe isn’t very big. Memo to self: When we get back, create an ice axe with a bigger adze. When we had cleared just enough space, we hastily pitched the tent on the barely adequate platform and crawled inside. We would sleep on ice that night. The first on the agenda was to get warm. We fired up our trusty gas-fueled MSR Model 9 stove, our little friend, who would keep us company that night.

The MSR stove was a godsend for mountaineers and backpackers alike. The ingenious design used the fuel bottle as an outrigger to stabilize the burner assembly and support your cooking pot. The best feature was the fuel pump, which allowed you to pressurize the white gas in the tank and keep the fuel flowing even in freezing conditions.

Stoves that relied on canisters of butane fuel were almost useless in a deep cold environment, where you needed them most. They lost their fuel pressure, and the flames were pitiful. They were only a fair-weather device. By contrast, the MSR stove was a true mountaineer’s tool. Its other outstanding feature was its burner head. It was a freaking blow torch that made a lot of noise and cranked out a lot of heat, which you needed if you were melting snow to get water.

We huddled around the little stove as it roared away. We weren’t melting snow. We were trying to get warm, leaning over towards the stove, hands cupped and yearning like two small children.

“Please sir, may we have another bowl of warmth?”

This activity would become our ongoing routine that night. We called it taking a warmth break. That night at camp 3, our down bags were each a sodden mess of wet down clumps sandwiched between two sheets of nylon. Beginning loft: 9” Current loft: 1” But at this point, you really couldn’t call it loft because that implied a fluffy mix of down and air.

Our bags were completely useless, and we slept on top of them that night, fully clothed in our wet wool. Sleep is a euphemism because we didn’t sleep much at all. We passed the night in brief snatches of that nether world that exists in the fuzzy border between sleep and consciousness. We punctuated our stupors that night with frequent warmth breaks, crouched over our little gas-fueled friend as it roared away.

Try as it might, the little stove provided only enough warmth to keep us engaged with getting through the night. I was shivering, freezing, certain that I’d get through this night, but I was feeling really ragged and seriously questioned how much more of this I could take. I wondered if Nicolai was concerned as well. I asked him,

“So, if the conditions don’t change, how many more days can we do this until we die?”

Nicolai was among the smartest people that I had ever met, and nothing if not self-assured. If you wanted the perfect model for a t-shirt emblazoned with the words, “I might be wrong. But I doubt it.” Nicolai would be your first choice. Hunched over the stove, he paused as if making a few mental calculations and then turned his head towards me.

“Three days.”

This is a brief excerpt from ‘It’ll Burn Off,’ a mountaineering adventure story from my recently released memoir. Banquet of the Infinite is now available as an eBook on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and Kobo.

Classic Crack

Classic Crack just sounded so cool you had to do it. The short practice route on Eight Mile Rock, just up the Icicle Creek Road, was not many miles from Castle Rock. Easily top-roped, a popular hangout for climbers who wanted to practice hand jamming. The fundamental technique involved inserting your hand into the crack and wedging it tight by some combination of twisting or contortion so that you could put weight on it as you climbed up. Classic Crack angled up to the left from the ground before straightening up. That introduced additional difficulty with balancing issues added to the equation. We practice climbed the awkward crack with both hand and foot jams.

The best way to do it was not by drawing on physical strength but with technique and finesse, and that’s why the practice was so valuable. If you were able to make several consecutive ascents and feel in control and rhythmically flowing upward, you had then added another technique skill to your quiver. And would soon be ready to handle such cracks on longer, more committed routes with confidence.

Both a test piece and a milestone with a meaningful rite of passage, Classic Crack challenged us all. The scene was much like you might expect of a small gathering at any demonstration of skill. Each climber, in turn, would approach the crack, hands taped, pause for a moment, and enter the crack looking to solve the puzzle. Waiting climbers would observe and evaluate, noting both skilled and fumbling moves. A gathering place to meet other members of the climbing community, we took turns belaying each other. It felt like family.

This is a brief excerpt from ‘To Climb a Rock,’ an early story in my recently released memoir. Banquet of the Infinite is now available as an eBook on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and Kobo.

Adventure Girls

Judy proposed a hike to Kennedy Hot Springs in the Mountain Loop area of Washington’s Cascades. The trail was snow-covered and the day overcast, damp, and cold. Despite the conditions, Judy was in good spirits, urging her doubtful companion forward. We saw no one until we arrived at the springs. Simply a small, square liquid hole in the ground, about six feet across, battened on the inside with wood timbers with an entry facilitated by a rustic wood pole ladder. Flatwood slats wrapped around the perimeter of the pool, which was not clear or inviting.

     The whole thing was an untidy, messy affair that would have disappointed most expectations. The water appeared a murky muddy brown color, but it was hot, and we were chilled. We encountered another couple already in the water and quickly shed our clothes and joined them. The relaxing liquid heat revived our spirits. After a long and slightly muddy soak, we emerged and gingerly walked, stark naked over to the nearby stream, and stepping carefully over the river rocks, entered it and splashed ourselves clean.

     After our experience at Kennedy, Judy was excited about another hot springs destination and proposed a night hike to Goldmyer Hot Springs. Sited on a privately owned property in the Alpine Lakes Wilderness, it featured natural, clear, hot water pools both inside and outside a cave in the middle of a dense forest. It sounded much more enticing than Kennedy.

     I don’t remember much about the route we took as it was a covert operation, just the two of us sneaking mile after mile towards our goal under a cold luminescent night sky. We hiked stealthily with only intermittent moonlight as flakes of snow drifted lazily around us, covering the miles in semi-dark, and making one dicey river crossing before arriving at the hot springs.

     We removed our clothes and waded alone into the water inside the cave. Arriving at the back end of the cave and settling into the soothing warmth of the water, we were astonished and delighted to discover more than a half dozen fat candles, already flickering, providing a magical light, as soft as fireflies, dancing across the walls and ceiling of that quiet chamber. We stayed for quite a while, speaking softly and laughing contentedly with our good fortune. And surprisingly, we did not encounter anyone else. Reluctantly, leaving the fat candles burning, we emerged and hiked back out through the snowy night.

This is an excerpt from ‘Adventure Girls,’ an early story from my recently released memoir, Banquet of the Infinite, which is now available as an eBook on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and Kobo.