A Summer Vacation with Llamas
in the Pasayten Wilderness and North Cascades
Tom & Janet Boyhan
It was Labor Day weekend, and we were driving across the North
Cascades highway on our way to the far northeast end of the Pasayten
Wilderness. Just before the Canadian border we turned west to
wind way up and into the wilderness headed for the trail head
at Iron Gate. While we were camped just short of the trail head,
our hand scale broke. Not wanting to spend an entire month balancing
eight panniers on guesses, we drove all the way back down the
mountain in hopes of finding a new scale on Labor Day in the
small town of Oroville.
Starting out once more, and after a latte for everyone, we wound
our way back up into the interior. While we were unloading our
four llamas and one rottweiler, several hikers and horse parties
came off the trail. We were going into new terrain for us. The
Boundary Trail runs across the entire Pasayten Wilderness, hugging
the Canadian border. We would head west for several days, taking
many side trips exploring special places recommended to us. Near
the western edge of the wilderness, we would hit the Pacific
Crest Trail and turn south on the PCT down to Rainy Pass on the
North Cascades Highway, covering about 200 miles along the way,
traveling almost entirely between 6,000 and 7500 feet of elevation.
That meant getting ourselves dropped off at Iron Gate and picked-up
at the end of September. Tom's niece from Vermont, Tammy, had
come for a visit in July and decided to stay, so lucky for us,
we had a house sitter and trucking service. There would be no
resupply points along this journey.
Off we went up the trail, five miles to Horse Shoe Basin with
each of our four llamas at 80 pounds or less, nearly empty packs
on ourselves, a dog carrying all of his own food, and four weeks
of mountain roaming before us. This was also a sentimental journey:
Tom and I had met each other ten years before while hiking north
on the PCT, 70 miles into Canada.
Just three miles up the trail a passing pack horse bolted and
knocked me and our dog Gusto to the ground, then turned on his
heels and ran right over us with his two horsewomen in hot pursuit.
Watching all of this well off trail with four llamas in tow,
Tom thought we'd been pulverized. Gusto had broken my fall and
we remained prone and still until the rodeo passed overhead.
I ended up with a nasty skinned knee to show for it.
We met our one and only back country ranger soon after, as we
crested Sunny Pass. Horseshoe Basin came into view - big, open
rolling slopes covered with trees, meadows and plenty of grass
for the llamas. Late afternoon brought us to a secluded campsite
tucked under some trees. As we finished dinner, it began to rain.
At 7,000', it was quite cold that first night, and more sleeping
layers would be needed on this trip. With old and very well worn
sleeping bags, we regretted not getting new ones for last Christmas
as we had intended (note: three holidays have now passed with
that sentiment). Facing inclement weather the next day, we decided
to stay put and explore the basin day hiking. How novel for us,
a rest day at the very beginning of our trip. The second night
out it snowed.
We pushed on for Tungsten Mine the third day. 2,000 head of sheep
in the basin fascinated Gusto, but he behaved. Gus remained on
leash almost the entire trip for both safety and courtesy reasons.
Dogs take off after wildlife and often don't find their way back.
A rottweiler's guarding bark can be intimidating to an unsuspecting
hiker or startling to a horse. Gus barked only twice during the
entire trip. What a beautiful hike it was - high and open. Even
with intermittent rain and hail, we could see the rich green
expanse below. Cruising through trees and in the rain, we broke
out into a clearing where two rustic cabins stood. Smoke was
curling up and out one chimney. Alice and Edlyn had come in the
day before. Beginning at Cathedral Lakes Provincial Park in Canada,
they had bushwhacked south, across the border and up onto the
Boundary Trail. The larger cabin had a kitchen room with running
water in the sink and two bunk rooms. We set up our tent in one
bunk room, out of the elements and away from the mice. A cozy
respite it was.
Sitting outside was an old cast iron bathtub. Edlyn filled it
with water and lit a fire underneath. They planned an exhilarating
hot soak come dusk, rain or shine. We shared an enjoyable evening
together by candlelight, and they took off the next morning.
We lingered on with the rain, rinsing clothes, studying maps,
and exploring the old mining ruins.
Before World War I, Germans had quietly sent the processed ore
back to Germany for armament build-up. Once their weapon strength
and material source was discovered, the mining continued for
American use only. Road building to the mine was an ever-changing
challenge, and getting ore to market seems to be the greatest
handicap in Washington state mining ventures. Active mining petered
off in the early 1950s, and the cabins are now maintained by
a local "Friends of Tungsten Mine" group.
We learned much of this Tungsten history the next night when
Jerry rode in with his two pack horses. Jerry had been in the
mountains since June 23 and only recently picked-up his first
resupply, so hunting and fishing had kept him going. What an
evening and next day we had hearing his histories of the Pasayten
people and places.
The next night, two backpacking couples arrived in the rain.
Theirs was a two week journey and all were over 60 years old.
Lifetime hikers, they were models for the vitality and vigor
that Tom and I hope to have as we approach their ages.
Two days and three nights at Tungsten Mine and we were less than
30 miles into our adventure. This was a first - we'd never sat
so still for so long on the trail. This place was quite the hub
of social activity (and it turned out to be the most people we
would meet on the trail at one time). We agreed to push on the
next day, rain or shine.