Month: August 2022

I made my way off the forest road very early in the morning, using my 2×8 boards to try to avoid too much scraping from getting high-centered. I drove up to the Lake Ann trailhead, where I’d have preferred to overnight, but it was prohibited. Judging by the number of vehicles, i am sure I could have gotten away with it and saved myself an hour of driving. Sadly there is no toilet there, and, knowing i would soon need one, i went back to the visitors center for coffee, a bagel and… That.

Back at the trailhead i did my final preparations for what will be a long day. It’s an out and back trail, and one of the few within striking distance of a glacier. There are some slightly shorter hikes to glaciers, but they’re not actually in the National Park, and, strangely after three days I’ve yet to actually cross that boundary. There are lots of beautiful places, recreation areas, wildernesses, national forests, etc. but the Park itself isn’t easily accessed.

I descended steep wooded switchbacks with big Douglas Firs, and occasional views of Artist Point, the place I walked around in my sandals yesterday. Today I’m wearing hiking boots, long pants and carrying about everything i can. I regret forgetting to put my actual backpacking pack in the RV, but i should be ok with what I have. I brought my poncho tarp and hooded jacket, as well as my emergency kit and handheld ham radio. I don’t expect to need any of that but it’s nice insurance.

Out of the trees now and overlooking the narrow valley, filled with low vegetation and scattered cedars. The stream is audible, as are some birds and also something making a low “whoop whoop whoop”. I’m not sure what that is. I wonder if there’s a book on sounds of the forest i could buy and not read.

I scared a family of ground birds, maybe pheasants, the babies flying away, and the fat momma walking quickly up a fallen tree before disappearing into the brush before I could grab my camera. After i passed i could hear her calling to them, and turned to see her fly up to a stump with a good view a bit off the trail.

I crossed into the bottom of the valley, following a narrow but well maintained rocky trail, clapping as i went past the scrubby trees in hopes of not needing to use my new bear spray. Then into the sun and through an area of boulders hinting at the violence of ten thousand winters.

Between the rocks and boulders the earth here is rich and black and wet. The plentiful spider threads crossing the trail inform me that I’m the only human here today, and those at bear height provide some comfort.

I pass a couple of hikers heading the other direction, and they confirmed they had not been eaten by a bear, which is in the whole a welcome development, but ruins my spider assisted warning system. They had camped only partway to the lake and were heading back to their vehicle.

I would be less concerned about the whole getting -eaten scenario if i hadn’t just been in Glacier NP last weekend. The only bear signs here are about food storage, so maybe they’re not very common.

I’m back on the east side of the valley now, climbing back up the same ridge I’d gone down earlier. The shade is welcome but i can tell it will be baking on the way back.

Back and forth i weave on the narrow trail, each right turn bringing a fresh babbling stream on my left. Some have small corrugated metal culverts and others make me glad my boots are waterproof. The woods here are peaceful and i occasionally startle a bird or squirrel at short range.

I’m a little over an hour in, and i made it to the fork where the supposedly unlabeled Swift Creek trail diverges. It is in fact marked with a carved wooden post. A tent shows this is a good place to stop, but that’s not my plan. I crossed said aptly named creek and continued on, as a tiny shew scuttled across my path.

I trudge up again, still keeping to the shaded east side of the valley. I may need to put in more bug spray, or stop less often to talk to you.

And now very much up, getting in my cardio now, though I stop for a photo of the Wilderness’s titular Mt Baker , towering behind me, covered in snow. It is not my destination, since it is not in the NP proper. I’ve yet to knowingly spot my destination mountain, Shuksan, which means “go away white people”, probably.

I pass two more hikers, and shortly thereafter add a useful length of cordage to my MOOP collection, a step up from shredded bits of blue dog poop bags. I try not to think too much about that.

I stop to enjoy the view from a large scree field, which will be inhospitably exposed on the way back. The view of Mount Baker is the best so far and alone is worth the trip. I have some water, finally, and apply some DEET, which I keep in a Ziploc bag. It’s harmful to synthetic clothing, which I wear a lot of while hiking. I applied some less offensive stuff in the RV but clearly missed some spots. Mosquitoes can go right through my wool t-shirt.

Overhanging ice makes staying on the trail difficult but other paths work just as well. The edges of the curving masses have a line of grey dirt. These are not glacial, but all of this valley was carved by ancient ice. I continue on, upward, switching back across the same scree field. I think i see the pass I’m meant to, uh, pass. Far below i spot another hiker heading in my direction. I expect they will pass me before too long.

I make short work of an ice field , with only a couple of slips. I’m glad the slushy surface provides a little traction, while the ice underneath prevents postholing. I didn’t bring the crampons from the RV and my show shoes are in Massachusetts. Clomping feet down at an angle mountainward of horizontal helps a lot to build impromptu steps for myself and others.

I pass some waterfalls, streams and another couple of campers and their fluffy excited dog. I’m close to the pass now.

I lose the trail in a snowfield so i head directly and sweatly uphill until i find it again.

A difficult climb up more slushy snow, and I remind myself that there is less air here. When I get to some shade near the top i rest a bit, and check for cell service. The bugs are enjoying the fresh meat.

Down now, with a view over the alpine lake. It’s still mostly frozen, looking like an iceberg with blue seams, like the kind of place a polar bear would hunt seals. I plod down, mindful of the friction of my toes, and soon spot a glacier!

A couple of campers are on the next ridge, and i begin to doubt my ability to reach said glacier. It’s damned high up. But there is a path so i will continue on. Two and a half hours to make it to the end of Lake Ann trail. It’s ten AM and not oppressively hot yet.

I pass a tent, and a couple flat spots for others. Exposed but acceptable in this weather. The trail continues but i wonder whether it is taking me to where the glacier is or where it was. I expect i will outlive it. I hear the roar of former glacier now as it huh huh huh… Cascades.

I pass a couple of dudes heading in the other direction, them with crampons, rope and ice axes. I hope I won’t need those. The trail here is narrow with a steep fall for those who stumble. I don’t.

The greens and greys are punctuated with yellow, blue, purple and pink, if you look closely enough at the small flowers being visited by the bees.

There’s a little service here, so I send check in messages. I can see Baker lake from here, about seven miles away.

Bugs keep finding me when i stop so again i climb.

The pines here have a clinging moss that looks like the beards of old men

The flies are relentless.

If i encounter a bear here, one of us is going to fall off the mountain. I’m betting it’s the bear, only since I can’t collect if it’s me.

Tom Petty says “the waiting” is the hardest part, and i can now say with certainty he has never climbed this mountain.

I am traveling slowly, not due to tired legs (mostly) rather to the dangerousness of the trail. The path is a mere suggestion for where most people probably didn’t die.

I passed just under a snowfield and the wind and melt has carved a tunnel under it. I am sitting under the world’s largest air conditioner and it’s delightful. It’s also managing to keep the flies at bay. I’m above part of the glacier, so i expect I’m going to be making it there soon. Resting a bit while i can do so cool and relatively bug free. Eating a peanut butter Cliff bar for elevensies. The view is stunning.

I made it all the way to the glacier, with considerable scrambling and rock hopping, fighting sliding ground the whole way, and doing my part to make the mountain shorter. Another hiker accompanied me for the last bits and we kept an eye on each other. I licked the glacier, which was my main goal this morning. The ice looks clear but there is a lot of dust and rocks so it was gritty, but I regret nothing.

I sat and ate the lunch i brought, a pea salad thing, made less healthy by the liberal addition of cheese, bacon and white goo, probably a mayonnaise based sauce. As i was finishing up Curtis made sounds like my mom’s 1970s Dodge Aspen station wagon doors being slammed, and I decided to move a bit to the side in case Curtis wanted to go for a Sunday drive. I call him Curtis now because I’m on a first name basis with everyone I’ve licked.

On the way back i found the tail and bones of a rodent of some sort, with unusually long red fur with black tips. I was thinking it was a red fox before i found the skull. Judging by the placement and dimensions i expect it was a hearty meal for an eagle.

I’ve got a “healthy” tan on my forearms, but i have a long way back to the vehicle so I’m going to try to make better time and hopefully avoid a burn. I didn’t bring more sunscreen. It’s 1pm now and I’m almost back to fly headquarters, resting first in my new favorite air conditioner.

I passed the last of the snow, but not before stuffing some in my hat and down my back. It’s hot now, a ridge away from the glacier.

Less shade, more hikers, more water, more white butterflies and blue hop-flying beetles.

If you’re not dunking your hat in mountain streams at every opportunity, do you even head? Seriously, hats are amazing. Shade is becoming increasingly valuable; you should bring some with you.

The first mountain got three times as tall as it was this morning, but i made it out, turned on the generator and AC in the RV and had Gatorade and a shower. I feel mostly human again.

Random thoughts while i had my phone off to conserve battery: Why isn’t the Earth’s mantle thoroughly mixed by now? Do insects have a concept of humans as other entities, or is it just like “oh, Bob is flat today. Sometimes spiders get flat.” Why is Evernote shitty with low service but works fine in airplane mode? Why are SO MANY apps dependent on internet, especially ones people might rely on in emergencies? Do all glaciers taste as crunchy as Curtis?

End to end time , eight and a half hours, including at least an hour visiting Curtis. Only about three and a half to get back, despite my increasing exhaustion and decreasing speed on the last mountain. About nine and a half rocky miles.

Now to figure out where I’m staying tonight.

H