Pasayten Trip, summer 97, part 3
As we dropped down to the PCT, we contemplated our itinerary. Our original plan was to have Tammy join us at Harts Pass and finish the last 30 miles of the journey with us. We now had 27 miles to Harts Pass and eight days before we were to scheduled to meet up with Tammy. Did we want to introduce her to such on-and-off cold and wet weather on her first big mountain hike and llama trek? We clearly were in a streak of less than perfect weather - and did we want to poke our way down the trail, 57 miles in 12 days, in such conditions? Tom agreed that the best plan was to accelerate the trip doing the 57 miles to Rainy Pass in four days. We would send a telephone message regarding our new plans to Tammy by the next available northbound hiker we met. We were only 14 miles from the wonderful Manning Provincial Park lodge in Canada and the northbound terminus of the PCT.
Now that we were on the PCT, we would roll along a true crest
line most of the way south to the highway. This section is truly
one of the grandest on the PCT, ranking for beauty with Kings
Canyon National Park in California and Glacier Peak Wilderness
in Washington.
Hopkins Lake had the largest group and most aggressive deer we
had ever seen. We had to push them away from our gear. Gusto
went ballistic with them, breaking away with his leash and bolting
off after them into the woods, yelping in a most unnatural way.
Visions of disaster ran through our minds as his noise grew faint
moving down toward the river valley below. Fear not for the deer,
they were safe. But would the dog find his way back? Of course
we were also thinking, Why did we bring this dog? This is how
most dogs end up abandoned in the mountains. They take off, get
lost and never find their way back to their owners who are both
searching and moving down a trail. Domestic dogs generally have
not developed their hunting instincts. Maybe Gusto got lucky
and followed the deer back up to us. This was his only trip indiscretion.
The deer stayed in our faces as we made camp and dinner. During
the night they ate the sweat bands and leather straps off our
sun hats, pulled the rain flies off the saddles, and gnawed on
the Sopris saddle's leather straps.
As we climbed up above Hopkins Lake on Devil's Staircase, the
fresh snow enhanced the severe rock our trail had been cut unto.
This is not a faint-of-heart mile. Then we walked the ridge's
razorback. From the ridge, we could see the very recent damage
of fire burn between the PCT and Ross Lake to the west. The natural
fire had started in early August and burned itself out by mid-September.
This portion of the PCT had been closed until the day before
we arrived and just in time for high hunt. We met a father with
very young sons hiking north. Of course they would call Tammy
for us. We insisted they take a generous reimbursement in appreciation
and informed them there were full services at the lodge, including
a sauna and ice cream. They didn't even know there was a lodge.
On
we walked, past Woody Pass, where the raw rock walls lean over the trail reminding
you they could give way and crush you. Then a drop to Holman Pass and down
a side trail to camp in the woods. Tom had to walk another half mile down
to find water. Our kaluha hit the spot that night. What views we had taken
in that day. To the west were rugged and up close snow capped mountains of
the North Cascades, the Pickett Range deep with in them, and their steep river
valleys far below. Looking east from our view ridge we could still see our
distant Cathedral Peaks mountains, the endless high wooded ridges and many
rugged mountains dusted in snow. On the very far west side of the range we
had even seen MT Baker, just one hour from our house. The PCT marks the far
east border of our Whatcom county, the western edge of which is saltwater.
More than half of our county contains national park and national forest. Had
there been a pay phone, it would have been a local call to Tammy.
A
very long day's walk took us over Devil's Backbone, Jim Pass, Foggy Pass,
the lovely Windy Pass, Buffalo Pass around Slate Peak and into Hart's Pass,
with the highest unpaved road in Washington state at 6,200'. This day had
the most brilliant afternoon light for photographs, and I asked Tom to walk
the llamas back and forth again and again. He is very patient with me if I
don't ask too often. Those are the best pictures I took on the entire trip.
We believe the 15 miles running north and eight south are the most spectacular
23 miles in Washington.
Hart's Pass has a very hairy single lane dirt road coming up
the east side - not for the faint of heart. Horse trailers are
not allowed up it. The road goes way down the east side into
the core of Washington's biggest gold strike area from the turn
of the century. Some properties are still privately held in the
heart of this wilderness and actively mined. We could see their
road net work and some buildings as we traversed high above them
on the ridge. The west side of the pass is strictly four-wheel
drive. Our county parks department leads exciting hiking tours
into this gold mining area with access to properties you otherwise
would not see.
We crashed in the campground, and even had ourselves a table
and outhouse. In the morning we met a PCT through-hiker. These
are the folks who attempt to cover the entire 2,600 miles of
the PCT in one continuous hike, averaging 20-30 miles each and
every day, and they carry everything they need on their backs.
Len had only 40 miles to go. He told us he was physically strong
but mentally exhausted. He also told us how thankful he was to
his parents for taking him camping as a child, showing him the
magnificence of the great outdoors, and that he would always
be grateful. Len would be meeting his father on the Manning Provincial
Park highway the very next day and was glad to know there was
a lodge, restaurant, and sauna.
Tom and I were now moving like well oiled machinery along the
high trail. Even though the weather was gray and cool, the views
were still endless, rugged peaks, many with eternal glaciers.
As always, the llamas were excellent partners. Once we had hit
the PCT, they had slim pickings for eats. All the llama feed
they had been carrying and not needing was now very necessary.
Tatie Peak, Grasshopper Pass and Glacier Pass, then we dropped
down to the Methow River. The PCT grade has a maximum of 15%,
so ups and downs are not killer, although that can make them
tedious at times.
Down along the Methow River we found a yearling black bear about
two weeks dead, lying across our trail. Trail chats had alerted
us, although exact location was never clearly remembered. We
had even met a National Forest Biologist volunteer looking in
the wrong direction for the bear. We were glad to see that no
one had disturbed the bear in any way and that his death appeared
to be natural. Without probing, we could see torn skin. Possibly
it had been a territorial fight with another bear, something
they must do after they leave their mother. After spending a
few moments with good thoughts for the bear's spirit, we moved
on.
Up we climbed for our final ridge walk, around the Golden Horn,
through Methow Pass and below the striking Snowy Lakes. Had the
sun been out, we would have climbed up to enjoy them. On we walked
toward Granite Pass. The trail through here was dynamited in
cliffs and gouged out of steep unstable slopes. Around a bend
we came, only eight miles from our truck, and there in the middle
of the trail was a boulder the size of a Volkswagen Bug. How
to get around it? OK, that was not good. Not at all. What to
do? Drop the panniers, crawl through the inside and pass them
through? Take the llamas one at a time around the outside? There
was barely a lip to stand on the outside, and that shoulder was
not even soft, it was small loose rock. The drop was vertical
and absolute. No stopping anyone that slipped off.
Facing
the boulder and hugging it close, Tom carefully worked his way around. I had
kept the llamas back away from the boulder. Of course Panda was the first
llama to attempt the walk around, panniers in place. I leaned around and passed
the lead line to Tom and backed away making sure the other llamas were watching.
Panda assessed the situation, looked at Tom and picked his way around the
boulder, leaning out, way out. Tom walked him down the trail, secured him
and returned for the next llama. Each animal moved as calmly and carefully
as Panda. We double lead Gusto from both sides. I took several photos of the
entire effort and was the last to cross. Easy to say no problem now. (Note:
The boulder is still sitting there and scheduled to be removed this summer.
But they've said that every year since).
We stayed high, traversing the lower slopes of Tower Mountain.
From a small saddle, we zigzagged up to Granite Pass. Several
short, tight switch backs up the rugged north ridge, around a
precipice and we reached a crest. Arcing across steep scree slopes
beneath precipitous cliffs around two bowls and we reached Cutthroat
Pass, our last high point. All day long we had been treated to
magnificent mountain vistas, every view a post card. Pausing
at the pass, we looked south to more North Cascades glaciers
and below through the endless dark green trees hiding the highway
below.
A
last sip of water and down we went, quickly and quietly. Passing wooded camp
sites along babbling streams, we ground down to civilization. Time went quickly,
and we found ourselves in the parking lot next to our pick-up truck. Tammy
had gotten the message and found a cohort to shuttle the vehicle up there
just in time for us. Once again, the llamas saw the sign that meant they were
finally going back to the barn and fairly flew up and into the truck. After
a quick sponge bath with our left over water, and donning the clean clothes
tucked behind the seats, we headed west down the North Cascades highway following
the setting sun. We wound our way across the National Park, marveling as always
at their grandeur. A spectacular drive it is, any day it is open.
Once again we had been able to take an entire month off and make
the most out of it. We had explored all new terrain for ourselves
as well as combining a sentimental journey. Gusto had been wonderful
company, the llamas had enjoyed their most bountiful salad bar
journey ever. Even though our weather had not always been ideal,
we never were robbed of views. And we never ran out of cocoa.
We are returning to the Pasayten Wilderness again this September.
With 790 square miles, there are a lot of trails and mountain
ridges yet to explore.