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| Glacier Peak Wilderness, one of the many reasons to love Washington. |
I spent about as much time in
Baring with the Dinsmores as I had in Cascade Locks. I knew I had overdone my pace in Oregon and
had been trying to slow down with a number of zero days spread out between
Cascade Locks, Packwood from White Pass, Seattle from Snoqualmie Pass, and Baring
from Steven’s Pass. It was not enough
time for Copernicus to catch up but it was at least enough time to meet a date
that was incredibly hard to accurately set—meeting up with someone who wanted
to hike the final week with me but needed an exact date while I was
still in northern California. I was
more than a week ahead of schedule to meet that date when I finished Oregon but
I timed it right here. So for the final
stretch from Stevens Pass to Canada I was joined by Brian Mockenhaupt. Brian and I served together in the army and
had deployed together during my first two tours to Iraq. After Brian got out of the army he resumed
his old career path as a journalist and specialized his post-army journalism by writing about soldier’s
perspectives in the Iraq and Afghanistan wars.
I had asked awhile back if he would be interested in writing something
about this hike and Brian surprised me not only by accepting the offer, but by
also stating he could not write the story without joining me on the trail.
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| Camping with fellow 10th Mountain infantrymen and Iraq War veterans, Lloyd Hensrude and Brian Mockenhaupt |
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Rockfall-lined trail in the
Henry M. Jackson Wilderness |
That first day would be the only
easy day for Brian. To keep our packs
light and take advantage of the great weather we were going to continue the 25
mile per day pace I had set in Washington, but Brian would not have the benefit
of being in shape from five previous months of hiking, much less hardened
feet. True to an infantryman’s character
though, Brian just dealt with the discomfort and enjoyed these brutal days anyway. Leaving the camp we entered Henry M.
Jackson Wilderness, a nice little prelude to the majesty of Glacier Peak. The trail traveled casually through lush
forests with great views of very scenic lakes, like Lake Valhalla. When
it was not in forest, it traveled over meadows thick with lupine and other
colorful alpine flowers or through rugged sections of beautiful large rockfall-lined
trail. Hiking with Brian offered a nice
change to my normal hiking habits. I
never zoned out, I did not listen to my iPod, and my radio was always off. Brian and I just talked. Our topics were varied but generally were
army related like—IEDs, old sergeant majors and colonels, the absurdities that
arise during wartime deployments, anecdotes about fellow soldiers we both used to know,
adjusting to civilian life, and so on and so forth. Other times Brian bombarded me with questions
about the trail as well as those about life itself on the trail.
Having someone other than a hiker ask those questions and in such a
great volume really made me realize—I was very much having the time of my life on
the PCT, even if there were some truly remember moments of misery. After going up and over a visually stunning
Vimy Ridge and around a beautiful Skykomish Peak, we camped at the petite and mirror-like Sally Ann Lake.
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| Sitkum, Scimitar, Kennedy, and Ptarmigan glaciers in Glacier Peak Wilderness |
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Silver-colored marmot (Hoary Marmot) |
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| Bird for brains (Blue Grouse) |
The following day we entered
Glacier Peak Wilderness. The name did
not disappoint. Most of the ridges were lined with giant glaciers that seemingly
had my pace set slower and my neck constantly twisted over a shoulder to take
in a new view. Even if I had already had
a great view of a particular glacier just a few moments before—if the angle was
different, if there were fewer trees obstructing the view, or whatever—I had to
stop for another look. When we were not
being treated to challenging climbs and great views of these numerous glaciers,
the wildlife was busy offering something new, even for me. I have an affinity for the comical-like
Golden Marmot of the high Sierra. There are many marmots in
this area of Washington, but these ones possessed a silver-like coat instead. Although, they still
maintained their hilarious leisurely poses atop large rocks and ran away with
the most uncoordinated feet nature has to offer. Another funny animal that graced this section
of the PCT was the blue grouse. They
reminded me of wild game hens and are funny not for the demeanor, but for their sheer stupidity. They just do not know how to
properly run away from a perceived threat.
I would imagine that if one were starving out here, it would not take
much effort to kill a handful of these birds with a few stone throws. One of these grouses even ran away from me by
running towards me, past me, and then right between Brian’s feet. This section also had a number of impressive
gorges, especially the one that lined the White Chuck River and its many
tributaries. I really loved this area. A great vista can always cause enjoyment but
there is also something to be said about being deep in a cool and green valley
with a raging white river. The sights
and sounds can be very relaxing. After a
long day filled with comical animals and glaciers with unusual names like
Sitkum, Scimitar, and Ptarmigan, we called it a day on top of Fire Creek
Pass. A large chunk of melting ice
provided crisp drinking water and the prominence of the pass gave us views of
distant snow-capped mountains and a nearby Milk Lake Glacier, all set among a
rich twilight produced violet sky.
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| Mica Lake, Glacier Peak Wilderness |
One of the more interesting days
on the PCT turned out to be one where I was lost. Leaving Sally Ann Lake the following day
Brian and I descended down to a frozen Mica Lake before descending further into
a very deep forested valley, from which we crossed a swollen glacier
melt creek and then up and over a tall ridge.
Over that ridge we found ourselves back below glaciers, like Vista Glacier, which was almost directly above us. After traversing around Vista we eventually hiked
down a creek fed by it. “Creek”
is quite an understatement though; Vista Creek was practically a river. The creek can become so swollen at times that
several years ago it managed to destroy a large swath of the PCT and more importantly the
bridge that crosses the creek. A few miles
north of Vista Creek is the Suiattle River, which also succeed in destroying a
large section of the PCT that same year, including a bridge. For several
years there were a series of detours that allowed thru-hikers to still pass
through this flood-damaged area. 2011
was the first year that the trail was officially reopened in its entirety in
this area, it also included five miles of a reroute that brought the trail to a
location where a bridge could be more securely placed. Brian and I thought we could cleverly avoid
these five extra miles by taking the original trail and crossing the creek and
river on downed trees. This worked perfectly for
Vista Creek. We found a suitable three-log
crossing after creatively finding a way down the growth-choked hillside. Once we crossed the creek we dead-reckoned
our way to the old PCT and had little trouble following it, albeit both of us
felt uneasy because the terrain was not quite exactly matching the contours on my
maps. Coming down into the Suiattle
River valley though, we found the trail and much of the adjacent hillside
completely destroyed. Here, we at least found several cairns that guided us to a reasonable log crossing. I must applaud Brian on his crossing of the
Suiattle. The log was covered in loose
bark and hovered about five feet over the river. The river itself was thick with silt and
denied any hiker of even the slightest view of its bottom, and even though the
river’s volume was far from what it must have been when it flooded the valley, it
was obvious that it could easily toss and carry an unlucky hiker through its
waters until a large rock or collection of dead trees could stop him. Brian climbed on top, balanced himself, and
walked right across. This far into my
thru-hike my conscious dictated a more cautious approach and I just couldn't bring myself to crossing the same way. I straddled the large log and scooted along
until I was across. The other side of
the Suiattle was where we got lost. The
trail and the cairns both disappeared.
Brian and I found ourselves trying our best to dead reckon our way
through mud and huge downed trees that made movement faster than a
quarter-mile per hour impossible.
Eventually we agreed that if we could not find the trail after a
specific time, we would turn around and return to reroute. That was exactly what we ended up doing after we failed to find the trail at our specified time. So we re-crossed the Suiattle and quickly went back
the way we came. Just as the last minute
of daylight faded and just as rain began to fall, we returned to Vista Creek
and decided to re-cross it the following day. Instead of complaining we both exchanged warm comments about the day and laughter through our tent walls before falling asleep. As frustrating as the experience should have been, it was actually quite
a rather invigorating and mentally refreshing day. The creek and river crossings were
challenging and being lost presented a problem for us to have to resolve and
overcome—we did.
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| Fires on a ridge above Five Mile Camp (south of Stehekin) create a spectacular sunset |
The next morning we recrossed
Vista Creek after breakfast and then hopped on the five-mile reroute we had
attempted to bypass the previous day. It
actually turned out to be a very nice and very well built five-mile stretch of
trail that brought us safely (and easily) across the Suiattle and to a series of very nice
campsites near Miner’s Creek. Following
the reroute miles we climbed up and over what seemed like a never-ending ascent
to Suiattle Pass where we met the first bunch of thru-hikers since leaving the Dinsmores. The views were nice
but a combination of yesterday’s miles and our proximity to our resupply (and beer) in Stehekin made this day feel somewhat long and drawn out. When the trail finally began its real
descent, the trail went straight down into a beautiful river valley. Towards the end of the day it slowly turned into impressively deep gorges that would offer us a
small taste of North Cascades National Park just ahead of us. It was
sprinkling towards the end of the day too and we also caught sight of a fire on the
top of the main ridge above us. The fire
made me nervous, the thought of a fire closure when I was this close to
completing the Pacific Crest Trail filled me with more anxiety than I had
imaging a possible injury when Brian and I cross and then re-crossed the
Suiattle. The previous day’s bonus miles
meant that I had run out of food this evening and bless Brian’s soul—he had
packed too much. I got a fire going
while he took some time to soak his feet in a nearby ice-cold creek. We enjoyed a comfortable fire, his delicious and
complex assembly-required dinner entrees, and discussed what we wanted to eat
in Stehekin. Neither of us actually knew
what the local restaurant had, much less its hours, but we were fantasying
about omelets and beer that night.
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