Pasayten Trip, summer 97, part 2
Off
we went into the clouds and rain, climbing our way effortlessly to Cathedral
Peak and down to the upper lake. With full drama, the clouds parted and rain
stopped to reveal the full impact of this spectacular spot. The lake sits
in a rock bowl amid ice polished slabs beneath the leaping cliffs of 8601'
Cathedral Peak. This area experienced both local alpine and continental glaciation.
These peaks were not rounded off by the glacial ice sheets. We heard rocks
fall through out the night. Located along the U.S. border, the Cathedral Lakes
Provincial Park in Canada has been referred to by some of our well traveled
friends as the most beautiful lake country they had ever visited. Sad for
us, that park is not open to stock.
A short cut the next day took us through a true tundra area,
a feature for which the Cathedral Lakes area is famous. The wind
swept landscape of rock tarns and grasses qualify for such status
and are similar to the tundra in the far Arctic north. We took
in dramatic views of Remmel Mountain, then dropped down to Spanish
Creek and a locked up ranger's cabin. Horsemen told us there
was a 20 year old military plane wreck just half a mile away.
The pilot had walked out. Maybe next time we'll look for it.
Up
and over Bald Mountain we hiked, regretting we did not have enough water with
us to spend the night on top. The trail over Bald Mountain climbed to 7,000'
and revealed a vast grassland expanse across the top with wonderful views
in all directions, both east where we had been and where we were going, farther
west into the rugged North Cascades. Our weather that day had been excellent
and promised a star-studded night sky. Instead, we camped in the woods next
to a shelter along the Ashnola River and made a large dinner with a double
dessert, rewarding ourselves for such a long and beautiful day.
In the morning, we crossed the Ashnola with dry boots thanks
to Gusto's assistance. The river was wide and shallow, so I used
the footbridge and then called Gusto to come through the water
to me. Tom had tied a lead to Gusto, so all four llamas followed
easily crossing behind him. As we worked our way up Sheep Mountain,
we moved off the Boundary Trail and climbed up to 7,000' Ramon
Lake by horse trail. Horse trails are usually direct routes with
few switch backs, not made with hikers in mind and not maintained
by trail crews. This trail climbed over rocks, through mud, and
gained 2,000' in two miles. It was worth it to find glorious
views east, west, and north into Canada, less than a mile away.
The actual border line was visible as a 50' swath running straight
through the trees and over each ridge and mountain. A postcard
lake set in a rugged mountain basin with brilliant larch trees
clustered about - this was what backcountry hiking was all about:
finding such a spot and having it to ourselves. We splashed,
washed, ate our finest meals, and enjoyed large portions of homemade
kaluha. The llamas had plenty of grass as well. Almost every
place we stayed in the Pasayten had bountiful feed for the llamas.
We were won over by the open terrain, endless views, and big
skies of the Pasayten.
Around Sheep Mountain we traversed, staying high and long on
views, and came within a quarter mile of the border. We met two
hikers, the first people in four days. They had just observed
a wolverine working a nearby ridge- and our next destination.
What a thrill that must have been, and a rare observation. We
circled Sheep Mountain and went south of the Boundary Trail,
along the east side of Sand Ridge, the trail staying high and
rolling, constantly reinforced by the open meadow and mountain
landscapes. Climbing back up to 7,200' with wind and snow fields,
we swung above McCall Gulch and through a notch to the west side
of the ridge. Below us the alpine meadow grasses were brilliant
blends of autumn color broken by tiny trickling springs, and
our obvious trail disappeared into it all. Once we descended,
we scouted and found small cairns to guide us across to the north
and not west to a descent. This was the magnificent Whistler
Basin. Camped on a shelf at the edge of the trees, our tent faced
west to the North Cascades, a crown of peaks across the western
horizon. What a sunset. Our llamas had performed well through
another demanding day, and they were loving the rich grass found
here. Just as dusk turned dark, Tom saw a bull elk lead six more
across our meadow.
Around Quartz Mountain, we enjoyed a gloriously beautiful day
with stunning views of the North Cascades. We continued onto
Bunker Hill, a 7,500' grass-covered mountain that once housed
a fire lookout. After climbing up and just below the ridge, we
saw a very dark storm cloud rapidly approaching us from the south
west. With fear for lightning at the top and no water nearby
in any direction, we beat feet for the summit. Rain began, then
hail, and on we marched. Finally the trail turned to move off
the ridge and down to tree line, but the hail was now the size
of popcorn and driven by a wicked wind that stung everybody's
ears, even irritating the llamas. We jumped behind one bush and
out of the driving wind to throw on rain flies and rain gear.
Gusto dove deep into the bush. Nasty- but no lightning near us.
As we ran down the trail to tree line, Spyder started acting
up. Our four-year-old with 600 miles experience still had a lot
to learn. Running caboose, he broke rank and tried to push past
Merlin. This was a bad place and time to have a problem. With
these distractions and in our haste, we missed the Boundary Trail
turn off at tree line and headed down another unmaintained trail.
"Down" being the operative word, we kept moving until
we found a campsite and water a few more miles below.
Our error was not apparent in these woods until the next morning
when the terrain did not match the map. Knowing that we were
going down and basically west, we knew we would hit a river and
could regroup then. We came out north of Hidden Lakes. Two miles
further and we rejoined the Boundary Trail. Our next destination
was Border Marker 83, where the U.S. had built two lookout towers
along the border, the first one mistakenly on Canadian soil.
The east trail up was labeled "unmaintained," so we
hiked down through the thick woods of the Pasayten River and
up Soda Creek toward the western trail approach. There we met
a commercial packer coming down our trail having just dropped
off a hunting party up at Frosty Lake, in time for the first
day of high hunt. He told us the western approach had not been
cleared in over six years. That was disappointing, for although
we could get around a lot of blow down and had brought our collapsible
Sven saw, the last two miles up had a steep ascent, and that's
not the terrain for meeting blow down with livestock. We stayed
on Boundary Trail. (Note: These towers can be accessed from the
Canadian side and we plan to get there this summer.)
After Bunker Hill, rain fell on and off throughout the days and
nights, becoming our daily pattern, but happily it never rained
during setting up and breaking down camp. Our gear was always
dry. Our next decision was where to spend this night. Frosty
Lake was too small for a horse camp, and llamas and two more
hunters had taken a spot in the upper basin. The map showed a
trail going up and near Heather Lake on the way to "The
Parks." Gwen Ingram had written about The Parks some time
ago in the BCL, and I remembered her saying the trail turn-off
was not obvious. Bob Schimpf had told me Heather Lake was the
best fishing in the Pasayten, and many horsemen had concurred.
We don't fish but we did want water. So off we went. Indeed,
we needed to bushwhack to get up there. Once in the saddle, we
looked for a horsetrail that should have gone down to the lake.
Not so. Horse tracks climbed up the ridge and up again, all through
blow down. It was now late in the day, cold, raining, and we
were still climbing, knowing well that the lake was getting farther
below us. Tom hung onto a tree and leaned way out to see that
indeed there was a lake below. Why such a route? Just as we agreed
to go up one more time and turn back down if the trail did not
descend then and there to the lake, two horsemen come through
and assured us the lake was half a mile ahead. So tight and vertical
a drop, they must have walked their horses in and out. We made
it to a breezy campsite by dark. Not a particularly pleasant
place in the cold and rain, but we were dry, alone, and not an
intrusion to any horsemen in the area.
On our way out the next morning, we found our best trail trash
ever - a New Zealand wool man's kneelength coat in camouflage
motif - it must belong to the hunters from Frosty Lake. In the
snow and at 6,500', we chose not to visit The Parks the next
day but went down to Frosty to return the coat. Maybe they would
invite us in for coffee! Surely hunters would not go out in such
weather. Grateful they were, but no invite came our way. We continued
up to Frosty Pass, just before and above the PCT. The weather
cleared. As we approached the high basin, we met two hunters
camped by the trail and lingering by their campfire. Just 300
yards past them and right before our eyes, a grand black bear
flew down the slope, across our trail and raced toward the trees
far below us. Such a sight. Oh, if those hunters had only known.
Frosty Pass sits 1,000' above the PCT's Castle Pass and offers
one of the great North Cascade vistas. All mountains in every
direction had received a good dusting of snow, and that enhanced
their rugged majesty. We kept spinning around to take it all
in.
Imposing Castle Peak was most powerful. Originally I had wanted
to continue west of the PCT a few miles on the Boundary Trail
in order to see this mountain up close. So I was pleased to see
it from such a lofty spot.