[pct-l] Stevens to Snoqualmie...

[Jeffrey Olson]

At the end of August, 1998, and again in 2005, I hiked the PCT from 
Stevens Pass to Snoqualmie Pass.  The first time I hiked it in 75 miles, 
in four days. The second time my friend and I took six days.  The first 
time, it was the second trip that summer where I aimed to average 20 
miles or so a day. I'd finally gotten my base pack weight down to about 
17 pounds, not including food and water.  The second time I was hiking 
south from Manning and even at Stevens Pass was immensely out of shape. 

Tom drove me to the pass and as I fitted the pack after futzing a bit, 
watched him drive away. I was alone in the wilderness again, after a 
three week hiatus (I'd hiked from White to Snoqualmie Pass then). I had 
a nervous stomach and a hyperawareness of being back in the woods.

I headed up through the Stevens Pass Ski area, winding through the trees 
at 8 in the morning, slowly getting my hiking legs back. I topped the 
rise at the top of the ski area and peered down into the basin with a 
big power line traversing across to a small lake and a notch. I hiked 
down past Lake Susan Jane and by lake Josephine. I definitely had my 
hiking legs on. 

The trail traversed along a ridge with views down to Trapper Creek and a 
final steep switchback up to Trap Pass. I was starting to feel beat, and 
it was a real effort hike the last couple hundred yards or so. The pass 
is really a notch in the trees, and once on the other side, it's back in 
the trees.  This little pass really was my first test on this trip.  It 
was a really steep grunt to the top.  Lots of winding around and 
through, gorse and bracken, big views from viewpoints on this very clear 
and warm day, mostly forest though, opening into high alpine basins tiny 
in comparison to the high Sierra - narrowing my intent and focusing my 
spirit - just keep hiking... 

The trail stays above Surprise and Glacier Lakes, switchbacks up 
Surprise Mountain, and then there is a long forest traverse to the 
Deception Lakes, where I'd decided I was going to spend the night. The 
forest is really thick there, and a woman was setting up camp in one of 
the clear spots, and not wanting to intrude, I continued on. The 
campsites were all dirt anyway, and in the trees with no views.  I've 
hiked this again, and Deception Lakes are definitely not a place to head 
for. 

Within a half mile, I came to a creek that had a flat spot a hundred 
yards away and I gratefully set up camp. My body ached, even after 1000 
ml. of ibuprofen after lunch that had dimmed the muscle aches and foot 
pain.

I lay back in the quiet of the forest and read until dark, very much 
aware of all the sounds, the jays, the deer later I mistook for a bear. 
There was no threat of rain so I didn't set up the old North Face tent 
fly I was using as a tarp <http://www.cooltrails.com/pctstevens2.htm#>, 
and watched the moon settle over Mt. Daniel off in the distance.  Once 
again I found myself sinking into the wilderness.  I was in the bear and 
deer and elk environments.  This was their world. 

And lying there on my ground cloth and blue foam pad I was very much, 
almost hyperly aware that I was in their world.  All the sounds were 
shots to my nervous system.  I found myself riding a nervous edge that 
was keeping me awake.  I realized I was "fearful" and trying to account 
for every little sound in the woods.  My realization led me to 
acceptance I was in "their" world and from "their" perspective just a 
little blip on the screen of their needing to eat.  I imagined myself on 
the hillside above me, smelling the wind blowing up the mountain, 
knowing there was a human lying down.  I felt no threat, only 
curiousity, but not enough to go explore.  There was no food smell (I'd 
eaten earlier on the trail) and I connected human smell with gunshots 
and danger.  

The next morning I was up at 6AM and hiking by 6:15. Those who have 
hiked day after day know the warm feeling that comes from breaking camp 
in a quarter hour.  Get up, take a dump, pack up and hit the trail.  No 
coffee, food, dawdling or working through more efficient ways to put 
gear in the pack.  Get up and go.  Just hike. 

The long traverse through forest continued and I hiked "down" to 
Deception Pass, which is no more than a forested swale it seemed to me. 
Hinman and Daniel were the major view the previous afternoon and that 
morning. But after crossing the headwaters of the cle elum river it was 
more gentle climbing/traversing with views across the canyon to the 
Robin Lake area and the peaks above it. Quite a spectacular way to spend 
a morning.  I had a distinct feeling of crossing from one side of a 
ridge - facing west, to another - facing east.  Hinman and Daniel were 
totally spectacular.  I say that having lived in SEattle for ten years 
and always wanting to head up into their drainage basins and do more 
intense exploring of their majesty.  Once I was on the east facing 
ridge, I remember hiking up to Tuck and Robin Lakes for a long weekend, 
and the view across the glacier scoured 3000' deep valley burned 
themselves into my memory, and perhaps soul.  We hiked to the top of the 
ridge for a dayhike, and traversed for miles along its spine, before 
heading down and back to Robin Lake. 

The trail crossed a bunch of creeks with no bridges, and it was rock 
<http://www.cooltrails.com/pctstevens2.htm#> hopping for me. I couldn't 
imagine crossing a couple of them earlier in the season when they would 
have been roaring and life would have been in danger. As it was, I took 
off my shoes and hiked across in yesterday's socks, washing them...  I 
wasn't smart enough then to carry hiking poles, so every step was an 
exercise in balance on the edge of going down into a roaring creek - no 
danger of floating away, just the ignonimy (sp) of getting dunked and 
probably scraped on the sharp edged granite boulders. 

Hyas Lake below and the granite ridge/peaks above became ever more the 
focus as I traversed through forest and boulder/avalanch fields.  I 
remembered my weekend up at Tuck and Robin Lakes and felt a kind of 
satisfaction that comes from having different experiences/views of a 
wilderness area that somehow made it my own, although the conceit in 
that statement makes me grin with a bit of irony...

The trail steepens under Cathedral Rock, and tops out at Cathedral Pass. 
What a view. And then down a treeless ridge to the outlet of Deep Lake 
where I had lunch, washed clothes and myself, and spent three hours, 
napping and reading in the grassy meadow, naked, soaking up the sun.  
Sometimes hiking all the elements coalesce to work together, a "perfect 
storm" of being-satisfied that burns itself into the memory for its 
perfection.  Squatting in the river and washing my nether regions, 
splashing my body and whooping with the shock of the cold water, dipping 
my head in the stream as I got down on my knees and whipping my long 
hair back to spray myself - whooping again...  Lying down on my blue 
foam pad and drying in the soft breeze and warm sun...  Hearing a couple 
guys negotiatie the creek crossing, heading up, never to be seen again.  
I wandered into torpitude and a deep nap that had primordial dreams. 

Waking up I slowly gathered my clothes, put them on, stopping to 
experience the beating sun, the burbling creek, the views up to the 
snowbanks sending their cascades down to the lake.  No hurry.  No hurry... 

Refreshed I walked in the heat of the afternoon above Spinola Creek, 
always out of sight, but not hearing. Lots of little ups and downs, 
until a big traversing turn around the ridge base and there was Waptus 
Lake below, way big and inaccessible, or so it seemed. I didn't want to 
take time to hike down the couple hundred feet of vertical to visit what 
looked like a big reservoir, although I don't think it is.  It was hot, 
and my cooling lunch stop had morphed into sweaty traversing around the 
big bend - no water now.  I had lost the "I"m in balance and harmony in 
the wilderness" and was feeling hot and tired.  Just get me to camp.  I 
knew that there was an established number of campsites where the trail 
crosses the Waptus River.  I figured I'd find a spot there. 

Just before the bridge that crosses the inlet creek to Waptus Lake is a 
big, 40' high rock/dirt dome. I layed out my sleeping bag 
<http://www.cooltrails.com/pctstevens2.htm#> under a tree on its top, 
and watched the sun go down behind some absolutely spectacular mountains 
to the northwest. I think dutch miller gap was up there, but I'm not 
sure. I spent four hours watching the sun change this view.  I was 
bushed.  I was relaxed.  I was so appreciative I was where I was.  The 
view was primo.  That means it was among the top 10% of views I've ever 
experienced in my life.  I lay back against the lone tree on the top of 
the dirt dome and watched the view change... 

The morning sun was breathtaking, and so rather than eating my granola 
and rehydrated milk with raisins on the trail, I ate breakfast and 
watched the sun go from pink to golden on the 3000' granite escarpment 
to the west of me.  Just a continuation of the previous nights experience. 

The hike up from Waptus Lake to the ridgetop is exposed, and even that 
time of the morning was hot. I can't imagine doing this in the afternoon 
when it is hot. 2200' or so to the top, with few trees and a number of 
blowdowns. I didn't see how a horse could get through there...  In 1998 
it wouldn't have been able to.  The grade was typical PCT, so I was able 
to maintain my regular 2.5 mph pace, and reached the top of the ridge in 
just a couple hours. 

As I traversed Escondido Ridge I could hear a packer down near Escondido 
Lake setting up camp in preparation for his paying guests that would 
begin arriving when hunting season began. I met one party of hikers that 
said they talked with a packer who had a mule carrying nothing but hard 
liquor, and another with nothing but beer.

The hike along Escondido Ridge is stunning. I took a break in a little 
meadow and munched down some trailmmix, thinking if I ever wanted to 
come somewhere close but pristinely beautiful, this was it, with its 
three foot wide stream meandering through it, backdropped with a 300' 
cliff.  This was one of those places that are seared in memory.  I 
returned in 2005 and ate lunch there and my memory was true.  Pristinely 
beautiful - pristene... 

But the most spectacular part of the trip was yet to come. I contined to 
traverse along the ridge and topped out in the middle of an old fire. 
There across the way was a picket fence of stark and beautiful peaks 
that made my eyes water and my heart ache. It was so beautiful I stopped 
and just stood there for ten minutes or so. I've hiked throughout the 
Cascades, Sierra from Lassen to Whitney, Wyoming and Colorado's 
mountains. But the view from the top of Escondido Ridge across the Lemah 
Creek Valley to the peaks rising 3000-4000 across the way is unparalleled. 

The hike down jumps from bench to bench for a while, and then into 
forest with the views now being tree filtered. I met a couple just 
getting up after having hiked til 11 the night before in the moonlight. 
They were in a weird kind of ecstacy, gentle and marvelling. I felt 
touched by a different force.  They exuded a gentleness that was either 
tendered by hallucinogens or total awe and comfort at being in the 
wilderness.  I think it was the former. 

Hiking down the ridge I met some climbers coming back from a climb of 
one of the peaks. They were almost marching, their big packs covered 
with ropes and caribiners.  They exuded an arrogance that was so 
testosterone laden I just stood back and after a couple words, let them 
by.  "Guys" are a funny kind of people. That's all I can say about that.

I also met a couple who are hiking the Washington 
<http://www.cooltrails.com/pctstevens2.htm#> PCT, but in ten day, 50 
mile chunks. They hike five miles a day. Both were very overweight and 
very jolly, and very sweaty! I met very few people on this trip, but 
these three parties, all in a row, within an hour of each other, were 
such great contrasts. Such different views of life, the wilderness and 
the world...

I hit the valley bottom and was surrounded with trees. There were lots 
of campsites in here, but I wasn't ready. I wanted big views this, my 
last night. the map promised them up around Park lakes.

So, I hiked at the base of Lemah Mountain, heading for the Three Queens. 
Views were pretty nonexistent. I ate lunch at the Lemah Creek Crossing, 
where there was an decent campsite, mostlly dirt, but nothing special.

I hadn't taken a stove on this, or the last trip. I had planned 
fat/carbs/protein and calories pretty well. I ate constantly - about 
5000 calories a day. I lost seven pounds over the four days, and gained 
three of it back the following week. That's not very good for the system 
I've been told.

Dinner was a bag of eastern hand food from one of the bins at the 
Ballard Market in Seattle. I highly recommend stoveless hiking, for five 
days or less at least. I found I didn't miss coffee after the first day, 
and hot food not at all. On the trip from White to Snoqualmie Pass it 
rained for a couple of the days, but even then, eating constantly made 
up for the lack of hot food. I never felt in danger. And this trip, with 
clear skies and warm temperatures, was heaven.

I started climbing <http://www.cooltrails.com/pctstevens2.htm#> up 
toward the Pass between Chikamin Peak and the Three queens, and was very 
weary. it was a nearly 3000' climb, and at the end of the day. I'd 
already climbed nearly 3000', and I could feel my thighs beginning to 
quiver.

But miraculously, and not for the first time in my life, getting higher 
got me higher. The pain lessened, and I found myself getting a fourth or 
fifth wind. I reached the trail to Spectacle Lake, but eschewed it for 
the top of the ridge. The higher I climbed the more spectacular the view 
became, and the harder it was to just keep hiking. It's switchback after 
switchback, but the whole lemah creek valley is unfolding, and all the 
peaks around get more and more visible.

Finally, in a really herculean effort, I gained the top of the ridge and 
looked over toward Park lakes, and decided i wanted to watch the sun go 
down from the top.

I walked a hundred yards south of the trail along the ridge top and 
found a fairly level spot where I threw my bag down in the grass and got 
into it. I was a hurtin puppy, but marvelling at what lay below me. I 
could see Spectacle lake of course, and Glacier Lake in its cirque, and 
all the mountains marching north. I thought that this was a day of days 
for views - opposite ends of the same valley, blown away all day long.

I had a tee shirt for years I wore hiking that said, "The best part 
about getting high is the view." it was a Grateful Dead tee shirt, and I 
chuckled to myself as I thought of it. No drugs or alcohol, coffee or 
any other stimulant other than the wonder at being so high and so 
privileged to be where I was.

A young couple was camped at a spot across the saddle from me, the 
"official wonderful campspot" and I watched them hang out on an outcrop 
overlooking the whole wonderous world. They added a different kind of 
texture to the view.

I woke up the next morning and headed west past the Park Lakes, glad I 
hadn't stayed there in the basin, with no views, lots of mosquitos. The 
hike up to Chikamin Pass was pretty, and then to cross over into the 
Gold Creek Basin, another breathtaking experience that went on and on 
and on. At what I guess is a place called Huckleberry Saddle you can 
stare through a gap in the ridge to the north into a basin with 
Burntboot Creek at its bottom, and it looked wild. No trail down there, 
but a sense that it would be a spectacular place to hike

There were people camped down at Joe lake, and again at Alaska Lake. It 
looked like a good place to go snowshoeing 
<http://www.cooltrails.com/pctstevens2.htm#> to for a winter wonderland 
experience. I ate lunch at Ridge Lake and watched the dayhikers stream 
by, dogs on leashes, clothes fresh and startlingly white.

On the Snoqualmie Pass side of Kendall Ridge I met a Japanese woman who 
I hung out with for a while because she was terrified that a bear was 
going to come out of the trees and get her. her husband and his friends 
had gone ahead to the top of the ridge, and she was almost paralyzed 
with fear. I hung with her for 30 minutes until another woman came and 
they hugged and the first woman thanked me, tearfully. Back in the world...

I had a bus to catch at Snoqualmie Summit and made it by an hour. Three 
or four busses a day stop at the Summit in 1998.

I was down to the pass by about three, and feeling pretty good. I really 
liked this ultra-light backpacking 
<http://www.cooltrails.com/pctstevens2.htm#> style. I really liked trail 
centered, versus camp centered hiking. All I did in camp was sleep. I 
usually took a couple three hours in the middle of the day to 
recuperate, wash, and watch the wilderness. Hiking til seven or 
seven-thirty - it got dark at eight on labor day, and light at 
six-thirty - made for a full day. I think i see more hiking that way. 
I'm light on my feet, take lots of breaks, and stop and marvel 
constantly. I don't feel like a beast of burden.  1998 understandings...

Jeff, just Jeff...