Last Morning in Stehekin

The boat leaves at 1:30, with me on it. It is a beautiful sunny day, no wind: it should be a very pleasant ride downlake. I hope that I will be back, some time.

This has been a wonderful experience for me--exactly what a sabbatical should be: a chance to escape all of the stresses and pressures and just work and recharge. Now all I need to do is bring some of the calm that I feel here back home with me to the "real world."

Postscript to Park Creek Pass hike

This is kindof cool: there is a book out by Peter Potterfield called Classic Hikes of the World: 23 Breathtaking Treks. And Park Creek Pass is in there! More specifically, the complete trip up Park Creek and down Thunder Creek to Diablo Lake. (Hmm...any early Christmas shoppers can consider this entry number one on my list!)

Des pas sur la neige

Two-day hike to Park Creek Pass, 28 miles, 4,200 feet gained and lost.

The forecast said that yesterday and today were the time if there was to be one last hike. It had snowed in the mountains Monday, so I wasn't sure if this would work, but I took off for Park Creek Pass, not knowing if actually reaching the pass (6,000 feet) would be in the cards.

This place has sentimental value for me. In August 1993, Tracey and I backpacked up Thunder Creek, over Park Creek Pass, and down to Stehekin. It was the one and only time she ever backpacked with me. (She likes dayhikes but backpacking isn't her thing.) We had a fantastic time. (In fact, Chloe was born exactly nine months later.) It turned out to be our last major hike together during our Seattle years--the next summer was consumed by having a newborn and a two-year-old, and then we moved to Iowa at the end of the summer.

See 81 photos from this trip here.

Day one: Tuesday 10/21/08. 17 miles, 4,200 feet gained, 2,000 feet lost.

I hit the trail at Carwash Falls at about 7:30, hiking the easy 6 miles up the old Stehekin Road to Park Creek in 2 hours. It was a funny day—you could feel the moisture in the air, and while the high country was beautifully clear, a blanket of fog covered the Stehekin Valley. (No pictures of this part of the hike: the camera was acting up.)

I remembered the Park Creek Trail being steep in places from 15 years ago, and it was. The first mile and a half climbs steeply, high above roaring Park Creek in its gorge. The next half mile traverses the gorge rim more moderately, gaining the hanging valley and meeting the creek at two-mile camp.

One important thing has changed since 1993—the sturdy bridge over Park Creek at two-mile camp is gone! There is a huge footlog to cross on, but it was snow-covered and slick, providing the only real sphincter-tightening moment of the trip. Safely across, the next three miles to five-mile camp are more moderate. The snow began below two-mile camp, and got steadily deeper and more beautiful as I went along. I was working up a pretty good sweat in the damp air, but the trees were dropping snow-bombs left and right, so I had to leave my hat and rain shell on.

I pulled into five-mile camp, 11 miles from the car, at dead-on noon. I ate my lunch, took my time making camp, fetching water, and setting some possible firewood up to dry. There is an awesome view of Buckner from my tent. My plan was to attempt the pass tomorrow, but it was shady and cold at camp, and it seemed stupid to lay around on a perfect afternoon when I could be warm hiking. It was 1:30—I figured the five remaining hours of daylight should be enough to climb the three miles and 2,000 feet to the pass and back if the snow conditions allow it.

So I hit the trail, and in no time I was in the sun, getting much warmer in the open country above my camp. The views of Booker, Buckner, Goode, and Storm King draped in yesterday's fresh snow were amazing.

The snow deepened a bit—4 to 6 inches—during the first mile. At that point, the trail leaves the main valley of Park Creek and switchbacks steeply up the flanks of Storm King. The snow was getting deeper and the views more spectacular. I never had any serious trouble following the trail through this wooded section.

As the country opened up, the snow became deeper, now approaching a foot of fresh powder. I lost the trail in the flat basin below the pass, but no trail was needed in this beautiful open country. After crossing several small creeks, I rediscovered the trail for the final drag to the pass.

This is just gorgeous country. Some people consider Park Creek Pass the scenic climax of trail hikes in the North Cascades. That's a big claim, but today I am certainly not going to argue. As I neared the pass, I was still mostly in sun and comfortable in spite of the cool breeze and now being in knee-deep snow. It was arduous travel but not as bad as postholing through spring slush at 11,000 feet like we do in New Mexico every Memorial Day week!

As I reached the pass (a 200-yard-long slot—the trail traverses above it), the spectacular views down Thunder Creek began. What a place! The snow grew deeper—thigh-deep in places—as I moved to the Thunder Creek side of the pass. No direct sun over here: it is cold! I took some photos and headed back to the sun on the Park Creek side. I found a dry rock to perch on and ate and drank. It was now almost 4:00.

At 4:20 I started down, wanting to be sure I could get back to camp by dark. I was in sun about half way back to camp, which I reached at about 6:00. It sure was easier coming down, with gravity on my side and a fresh set of footprints to follow. I used the last bits of light to fetch water and change into tomorrows undies and socks and bundle up for the cold evening. There were high clouds rolling in, just as forecasted, so the low should be moderate tonight (30-ish is the forecast.)

I was too whipped to fuss with fire: I cooked dinner (Thai noodle soup, apple, cookie) by headlamp and got cleaned up. I actually had some trouble finding the bear-bag rope I had rigged earlier in the dark—it was a ways from my camp.

I hit the tent around 7:30 to write in my log. What a fantastic day spent in a fantastic place that also has great sentimental value to me.

Day 2: Wednesday, 10/22/08. 11 miles, 2,200 feet lost.

I woke up at what felt like the middle of the night—it was actually 10:30. I crawled out of the tent to see something I didn't expect: a giant show of stars, and Buckner glowing in star and moon light. It already felt much colder than 30, and with this clear sky, I knew I was in for a cold night. One of the disadvantages of hiking until dark in the cold fall is that I never had a chance to air and dry my clothes, so it was a chilly night. I was glad I wasn't attempting the pass as planned, because I would have to have gotten an early start. I crawled out to take care of business at 6:30, crawled back in and surprisingly fell back asleep. I didn't get out again until almost nine, when the first bits of sun were starting to reach through the trees. It was still only 20 degrees.

I took my sweet time cooking breakfast and breaking camp, hoisting pack for what is surely the last backpacking day of 2008 at 10:30. I ate lunch at a sunny spot by the Park Creek trailhead, and was back to the truck at 3:30. I hadn't driven more than 150 yards when I saw a bear coming up the road. I stopped at Buckner Orchard on the way back to see if the deer were there. They sure were—there were probably close to 40 deer in the orchard.

This was simply a spectacular hike and a perfect ending to my Stehekin hike-fest. The area around the pass was unbelievable draped in fresh snow.

My totals for the last month: 183 miles of trail, 34,000 feet of elevation gain.

(By the way, "Des pas sur la neige" is "Footprints in the snow" in French. Don't be too impressed: I only know this because it is the title of a Debussy piano piece.)

Unique Light Conditions After the Storm

It was stormy this morning: rain here, snow above about 3,200 feet. There was a window of sun this afternoon: I went out briefly on my bike. The area where Stehekin is (at the head of the lake) was clearly the only place where it was sunny. There was a strange mix of clouds, fresh snow, and blue skies. I snapped a few photos but that didn't capture the strange light conditions very well.

Near the head of the lake, I saw several kinds of ducks, plus geese and herons. I saw one pair of birds further out in the lake that may have been loons—it was hard to tell because they were in shadow. Look closely at the last picture: there is a heron in flight right in front of the nearest cabin.

One of These Geese Is Showing Its Business End

The next couple days are supposed to be clear: I'm probably going to go on an overnight hike tomorrow, as my last hiking hurrah.

Buckner Orchard

I took a little break this morning to bike upvalley to the Buckner Orchard, which was an early Stehekin homestead and a commercial apple orchard in the 1920s-60s—it was purchased by the Park Service in 1970 and is maintained as a historic site (It is still a producing orchard—I had an apple while I was there.)

The orchard is in a beautiful spot (what isn't, around here?) near the river. There were several groups of does and fawns hanging around under the apple trees. I didn't take the camera—maybe I'll go back later this week some time when the weather is good and I need a break.

I stopped at Rainbow falls on the way back and just hung out at the base of the falls for a while.

The fall colors are just about at their peak on the valley floor now.

Saturday Stroll

I hiked about 4 miles down the lakeshore trail this morning, through pleasant open forest to the Flick Creek shelter. You can see that almost all of the snow is melted off of McGregor Mountain--the weather has been beautiful this week.

Tonight I give a presentation about my music at the Golden West visitor's center--should be fun.

Avalanche Fan at Mouth of Canyon Creek

Great Friday (is it Friday?)

What a great day today...

1. I finished the clarinet sonata. It's always a great day when you finish a piece. A 12-minute, 3-movement piece in 16 days. I'm sure that is a record for me.

2. Just literally as I was writing the last notes, Mark from the NPS came to my door with a package that had arrived on the boat today. (I was there, picking up groceries, but I wasn't looking for a package.) It was a care package from home. That always makes one feel loved. Funny--they included a book: Peter Gomes, The Scandalous Gospel of Jesus: What's So Good About the Good News? My family knows me well. So well, in fact, that this is the book I bought at the airport on my way here and read on my backpacking trips over the last 3 weeks! (It's a good book. Gomes is a name dropper, which is irksome. But if you can get past that, his books are excellent.)

3. The boat was late today, so while waiting to pick up my groceries, I met several local folks. It just seems like there are good people here. Nobody ever locks anything, people leave their keys in their cars...

4. It was a beautiful day today, contrary to what was forecasted. I got out on my bike late this afternoon, on a loon hunt. I saw ducks and geese galore, but no loons. (They like deeper water to fish in, so they probably hang out more in the middle of the lake where they're harder to see.)

The Call of the Loon

I heard the unmistakeable call of the loon on the lake today—I've not seen them since I've been here (lots of ducks and geese and gulls), but now that I know they're here, I may poke around the head of the lake tomorrow and see if I can spot any.

Today was a great work (and rest the legs) day: I should easily be able to finish the first movement of the clarinet sonata (the last to be composed) tomorrow. 

I'm becoming increasingly aware of the impending end of my sojourn here—10 more days. I'm eager to be back with my family, of course, but not eager to leave this place.

Big-ole Dayhike to Boulder Butte (7,400 ft)

Purple Pass/Boulder Butte
16 miles, 6,200 feet elevation gain and loss

Mountain Goat on Boulder Butte Summit

View all of the photos from this hike here.

I had kindof told myself all along on this trip that I would not subject myself to this kind of punishment, but some encouragement from a ranger and news that there were lots of Larch and fantastic 360-degree views changed my mind. This was a very arduous hike, but it was worth it. Fall is probably the best time to do this hike: I imagine the sun can be pretty scorching on the steep, dry slopes of Purple Creek in the summer.

I hit the trail at 6:30 by headlamp, although the full moon was supplying enough light that I could have gotten by without it. This trail gets right down to business—it basically doesn’t go anywhere but straight up out of Stehekin, switchbacking the whole way to Purple Pass. In about an hour I was at the Purple Creek crossing (2 miles), which is the last water on the route. I carried 3 liters: 2 would have been enough. (I’d take 4 in the summer.) There had been plenty of great views, a scenic moonset, and I was making a good pace for uphill: things were going pretty well. The trail is pretty gently graded, although the terrain is super steep.

Above Purple Creek, the views steadily grow, but so does the awareness that you’re on a very arduous climb with a long way to go. This is the part of the trail where you really need to hunker down. Almost the whole route is through forests affected by the Flick Creek fire a couple years ago.

A couple miles below the pass, I hit snow, larch and fantastic rocky parkland. Unfortunately, it was also very cold: the slope is so steep here that it receives no morning sun. The snow was only an inch deep, with the tracks of every kind of critter around (except humans). I never even put my gaiters on.

I reached the pass a little before 11:00, where I took a well deserved break for a few minutes. The views are spectacular: down to Lake Chelan, up to the wild peaks of the North Cascades, over to the larch and snow parkland of upper Fourmile Creek Basin and Lake Juanita.

As I took off for the last half mile to Boulder Butte, the scenery steadily dazzled and the snow grew a little deeper, but never more than about 3-4 inches. The trail was steep and there was just enough snow that a couple places were a little ticklish.

I pulled up onto Boulder Butte at 11:30 and parked for photos and lunch. It was quite brisk but the breeze was still and the sun was welcome, so it was a pretty comfortable summit. I lingered for about 45 minutes, until a breeze started to blow and it got a little chilly. The views were amazing: sweeping panoramas in every direction: west to Castle Rock and Tupshin, North to an ocean of rugged ice-clad peaks, east down War Creek toward the Columbia Valley, Southeast down the chelan/sawtooth summit, south to Mt. Rainier in the distance, southwest to Lake Chelan and the peaks of the Chelan crest.

I had been here quite some time before I noticed the sheer cliff north face of boulder butte. Of course, I did what most any guy would do: stood really close to the precipice and peed off it.

The descent was uneventful and long.

5 hours up, 3.5 hours down, 45 minutes on the summit.

Incredible Hike up North Fork Bridge Creek

North Fork Bridge Creek Hike
October 10-12 2008

See all of the photos from this trip here.

Day 1: 10 miles, 1,600 feet gain, 400 feet lost
I woke up insanely early this morning (a little before 5) and couldn’t get back to sleep, so eventually I just went with it—I jotted down some ideas I had had during the night, packed up my backpack, cooked a big breakfast, and fetched the NPS truck that I can use at about 6:30. I headed upvalley and parked at Carwash Falls, where the Stehekin River Road now ends due to washouts in the big floods of spring 2002. I was on the trail at about 7:30, and it was beautiful, clear, and cold. The Old Wagon Trail is a beautiful trail that follows within earshot but never sight of the Stehekin River, 3 miles up to Bridge Creek, with lovely forests, fall colors, and some peeks through trees at Mt. Booker. Another 3 miles along Bridge Creek, with increasing views, brought me to the North Fork Trail. (The Old Wagon Road and Bridge Creek Trails are also the Pacific Crest Trail.)

At the bridge over Bridge Creek, I met an NPS ranger. Of course she asked me where I was headed—she raved on and on about how beautiful the North Fork is. And it did not disappoint: the next four miles to Grizzly Creek were spectacular, through beautiful parkland and forest frozen with the snow from the last several days. It is a spectacular day: hardly a cloud in the sky and possibly as warm as 50.

One drawback to hiking in a frozen forest on a sunny day is that it’s a little like walking through a sleet storm!

I forded Grizzly Creek to my camp at about 12:30. The ford is not completely trivial: especially at this late date, where a fall could mean injury but also risking hypothermia. So I studied several possible fords carefully before choosing one, which went without a hitch. The water was near the top of my boots on a couple steps—this ford could definitely be challenging in summer when the creek is higher, although I’d just wear sandals in the summer. After fording, I had a little fun with the camera timer and the “Grizzly Hiker” marker. (I bet everyone who comes here takes this picture.)

I deliberately slowed my pace after leaving the Bridge Creek trail, since the scenery was gorgeous and I had all the time in the world, thanks to my early start. There is a bear wire here at Grizzly Camp, which means there’s obviously a history of bear activity in the area, so with any luck I’ll see one.

From my camp at 3,200 feet, I have views of the awesome summits of Goode (the “e” is not silent), Storm King, and Logan: giant peaks almost 6,000 feet straight above me. After making camp, I spread my pad and sleeping bag out in the sun and took a little nap. Unfortunately, when I woke up, I wasn’t in the sun anymore and it was cold. (Looks like I picked a bad trip to forget my longjohns, but I have nylon zip-offs and rain pants, so I should be fine.) I moved into the tent for bit, and came out bundled up at 4:00 to collect firewood (always a challenge in the soggy Cascades) and fetch water (brr).

I enjoyed a dinner of three-bean chili and an apple, and got to work on my fire, as it grew dark, around 7:00. The moon is almost full tonight: you can see the moonlight streaking through the trees. There is not a cloud in the sky. It is cold but I am comfy by the fire.
I only burned about half of my wood, so I should be good to go for another fire tomorrow night. It has been a fantastic day!

Day 2: 10 miles, 1,500 feet gained and lost
I got out of the tent at about 7:15 to take care of some very cold business. I checked the thermometer on my pack, which had been insulated under the pack cover, and it said 19. (The low was probably 15 or less.) I took a couple pictures of Goode and Storm King bathed in morning sun, and crawled bag into my bag. It was too cold to be up this early if you didn’t have to be. I read a chapter of the book I brought and just chilled until about 8:30.

The trail to the head of the North Fork cirque certainly ranks among the most beautiful trails I’ve been on, passing under the staggering north walls of Goode and Storm King and to the base of Mt. Logan. You can understand here why the North Cascades are sometimes called “the American Alps.” The summits are incredibly rugged and steep.

Much of the trail above Grizzly Camp is at least a little brushy, including one particularly trying section about a mile above Grizzly Camp where there was shoulder-high brush (wet and cold), berry thorns, and parts of the trail were washed out. This section required some perseverance. (I don’t think very many people come up here, actually.)

It was a little before noon (I was long past the official end of the trail) when the path fizzled out in meadows below Mt. Logan at the head of the cirque, and I was thinking about finding a lunch and turnaround spot. I crested a little knoll, and there was a bear on the path ahead! It was the perfect distance: close enough to get a good look (and pictures), but not so close that I’d wet myself. He casually rambled up the gentle slope about 100 yards and parked: apparently not very intimidated by my presence and not interested in retreating any further. It was a large black bear—definitely a fully-grown adult. I watched and got some pictures, then waited for him to retreat. I even walked about another 10-15 yards, thinking that would get him moving, but he did not budge. So I did: I was close to where I needed to turn around anyway, and who knows when the next human will be up here (spring?), so I didn’t want to take any chances.



I walked about ¼ mile downstream, looking back to see that he never moved. I parked in a pleasant sunny meadow just above the creek and enjoyed my lunch. I walked down to the creek, thinking I might ford and scramble the brushy slopes up to the base of the cliffs of Storm King, but the ford was not completely trivial, and in this cold weather it didn’t seem prudent to risk a fall and hypothermia when I didn’t need to get across. So I packed up and headed down. By now, the shadow of Goode and Storm King was reaching across the upper valley and it became much cooler, so I was happy to be heading down to where the sun was still shining.

This is a spectacular hike, although the fall colors are subdued: there are no larch here, and much of the huckleberry and other deciduous plants are dried up now. (The snow earlier this week may have finished them off.) This would be a spectacular trip to introduce someone to backpacking: three fairly easy 10-mile days (minimal elevation gain), an exciting but not life-threatening ford of Grizzly Creek, and a 2-night basecamp with light packs on day 2. What more could you want?

I got back to camp about 2:15—just in time to wash up a little, change socks and skivvies, and get clothes aired out, all in the last few minutes of warm sun.

A thin layer of benign-looking high clouds started rolling into the valley. This was a welcome development, since it will keep the temperature a little higher tonight if it holds. I read a chapter, then fixed my dinner of Pinnacle Pasta, trail mix, and a raspberry/lemon dark chocolate bar, with my constant chipmunk companion. I had a much easier time coaxing fire tonight, and it burned hotter, faster, and more completely. What a difference a day of sun makes for firewood. All in all, it has been a fantastic day, as I nurse my fire to the bitter end and call it a night at about 8:30, retiring to the tent to write in my trip log.

Day 3: 10 miles, 400 feet gained, 1,600 feet lost (+ 8 bonus miles)
At 7:15, it was very lightly raining or snowing, as it had been for some time. But it was the lightest possible precipitation: no worries. I finished my book in the tent. It was warmer last night (maybe 25-30?) and I slept pretty well. I cooked breakfast (something I haven’t done much recently) and hit the trail about 9:15. I was at Bridge Creek camp at about 11:45. There was little sun and it was kindof chilly. I had lots of time, so I did something I never do: got out the stove and cooked Thai noodle soup mix for lunch. It really hit the spot.

I took the old river road the next mile down to Shady Camp, since I had taken the PCT route on the way up. I saw the impressive washout at Shady Camp, and at about 1:30, was back at the truck at Carwash Falls, where the road is also washed out. I headed down, reaching the bakery at about 2:30. I was keen to get here, because it is the last day they are open for the season, and I wasn’t sure how late they’d stay open. I snagged an ice cream cone, some bread, and some gingerbread cookies and headed back up to the Harlequin Bridge and over to the Stehekin airstrip, where the Stehekin River Trail begins.

I hiked about a mile to Blackberry Creek, where I had seen the kokanee spawning a few days ago (armed with a camera this time), but there were far fewer fish. I continued a little further to a spot where you can see Rainbow Falls, and I bushwacked down to the river, because I had heard that this was the prime place to see the kokanee spawn. Alas, no fish: I think they have all made it further upstream or have died at this point. For some reason, I decided to continue the rest of the way to Weaver Point (the head of Lake Chelan, the mouth of the Stehekin River). I didn’t have a map with me now, but I was sure it was 3 total miles. (It was actually 4). I walked biskly, wanting to get home in time to shower and eat at a reasonable hour, so the 8-mile round trip took a little less than 2.5 hours. Just as I arrived at Weaver Point, a golden eagle took off very close to me and headed out over the lake. (I didn’t get a good picture.) As I was returning to the airstrip, I saw a funny sight: there were deer on the runway, and a pilot about to take off had to chase them off. (I took a picture, but it’s very blurry.)

No Cool Pictures or Stories Today

Here's the story. I got up at 6:30, I ate breakfast, I sat down to work. It's now 10:30 at night, and I am going to stop working. I almost pounded out the whole third movement of the clarinet sonata today--that's astonishing, compared to the rate at which I usually work. Of course I'm somewhat mentally exhausted, but it's perfect timing: I'm going on a 3-day hike tomorrow morning up the North Fork of Bridge Creek. (So I can work my body and rest my mind.) It's the only drainage in the south section of NCNP that I've never been in, and I'm hoping for some great fall colors in the meadows below Goode and Logan (both 9,000+ peaks). And hopefully a bear or two.

So, no updates until Sunday night or Monday morning.

Spawning Kokanee

I needed a little break this afternoon, and the sun was shining, so I hopped on my bike and headed upvalley for points unknown. I crossed the river on the Harlequin Bridge (about 5 miles upvalley), rode by a couple homes to the Stehekin airstrip, where I parked at the trailhead for the Stehekin River trail, which runs from that point to the mouth of the river at Weaver Point. I wasn't clothed or equipped for a real hike, but I walked about a mile down the trail, where I saw the Kokanee (freshwater sockeye salmon) spawning in the clear pools of Blackberry Creek. I didn't take the camera, but here's what they look like.

Morning Stroll down Lakeshore Trail

It was mostly sunny this morning (it's supposed to cloud up again later today), so I took a little stroll a few miles down the lakeshore trail. Maybe some time while I'm here I'll take the boat downlake a ways and hike back to Stehekin on the lakeshore trail.

I'm going on a 3-day trip to the North Fork Bridge Creek meadows Friday morning: I'm hoping to finish the third movement of the clarinet sonata between now and then.

Castle Rock with Snags

Peaks of the Chelan Crest Downlake

More Sunlight and Snow Pictures

Imus House with Fall Colors

Castle Rock Sun and Snow

Fresh Snow Upvalley

Uplake Panorama

Early Winter

Snow Level is Falling

Castle Rock in Clouds

It has been stormy the last couple days--hard and steady rain, blustery, cold. There was a little window of sun this afternoon and I could see that a lot of snow has fallen in the mountains, with the snow level much lower than it's been up until now--maybe down around 3,500 feet. (For comparison, Stehekin is at 1,200 feet, the ridge straight across the lake from my window is at about 6,000 feet. The high peaks at the head of the Stehekin Valley top 9,000.

I am getting so much composing done--I accomplish in a day what it takes me a week or more to get done in regular life. There is supposed to be a little break in the weather tomorrow--I may hike up toward the high country (east, up the Purple Pass trail) and check out the snow.

Looking up to the ridge above my house, in first light.

Monday Morning Hike

There was a slight break in the weather this morning, so I took the 8:00 shuttle bus up to High Bridge to get a half day of hiking in. (Tomorrow is the last day the shuttle bus runs, so getting upvalley will be a little less convenient after that.)

I started with the Agnes Gorge trail. This trail goes for 2.5 miles, on the opposite side of Agnes Creek as the Agnes Creek trail (the one I came into the Stehekin Valley on at the end of my backpacking trip). Unlike that trail which climbs high above Agnes Gorge, the gorge trail contours just above the creek for a couple miles and then drops into the Agnes Gorge. It is a pleasant, nearly level low-elevation forest walk ending at the beautiful gorge. The fall colors are probably a week away from their peak at this lower elevation. There were a few drops of drizzle and a few small sunbreaks.

Agnes Gorge took exactly two hours, which gave me just enough time to go to Coon Lake and still catch the 12:15 shuttle home. It is 1.3 miles and maybe 500 feet of elevation gain, through more open forest with some views across the Stehekin Valley and up to McGregor Mountain. I watched a duck feeding in the lake for a few minutes, but never got any decent pictures.

Critter notes: Agnes Gorge is considered one of the best places to see bears (I have seen them there before). And the trail to Coon Lake is considered one of the best places to see a rattler. Unfortunately, I saw neither. (This is my third time hiking the Stehekin area, and I have never seen a rattlesnake, although they are by no means rare around here.)

This afternoon I finished the slow movement of the clarinet sonata, while the rain started up again. The locals seem pretty surprised by the amount of rainy weather this past week. The forecast calls for sunny weather Friday-Sunday: I will probably backpack up to North Fork Bridge Creek then—my last backpack trip while I’m here.

View 15 photos from these hikes. 

Sunday Stroll

The sky is cloudy but clearing this morning. There is fresh snow on the high peaks. There was a great blue heron on the shore right in front of my house as I stepped out the door. I went for a little walk after breakfast, about a mile down the lakeshore trail and back, then settled in for work: I'm hoping to finish the slow movement of the clarinet sonata today.

Fresh Snow, First Light

Burnt Forest

Castle Rock

Uplake View

Fresh Snow On McGregor

Sunlight, Snow, Clouds

This and that...

The complete 34-photo set of yesterday's hike to Rainbow Lake is available now, here. (Again, I recommend the slide show option with "info on.") I think there are some terrific photos in this set.

For my Michigan friends: I learned today that there is a small confirmed population of wolverines in the north cascades. Just thought you'd want to know.

I had a productive work day today, getting the ending set for one of the pieces I'm working on. (I generally start with the ending.) It was rainy and cool and really felt like Fall today. I made a big pot of jambalaya for dinner which will feed me for a few days.

Speaking of feeling like Fall, it feels like things are winding down here in Stehekin. The bakery is only open Thur-Sun now, and the few other businesses in the valley have also scaled back. The shuttle bus upvalley only runs for a few more days. I have a feeling things are about to get very quiet here!

Supersized Dayhike to Rainbow Lake

I had planned to do a hike this weekend, but the forecast calls for increasing chance of rain through Sunday, so I decided to take my weekend today and work over the weekend. The forecast was iffy, but I took off for what turned out to be a monster hike: a 3-mile bike to the Rainbow Trailhead, then 11 miles and 4,800 feet up to Rainbow Lake (and then back). It’s been a long time since I hiked 20+ miles in a day (plus 6 bonus bike miles.) I beasted it, as my son would say, but I’m sure my feet will be protesting in the morning.

View all 34 photos of Rainbow Lake Hike. (I recommend opening them in a new window, choosing the “slideshow” link, and clicking the “info on” button to see the titles.)

Here's a teaser (click to see the full-sized image):

Larch With Reflections

Smoke On The Water

Fall Colors

I left my door at 7:00, getting to the trailhead at 7:15. The Rainbow Creek trail starts off the Rainbow Loop, which climbs the initial headwall of the Stehekin Valley above Rainbow Falls. Then you climb (fairly steeply) a spur ridge high above Rainbow Creek and contour to meet the creek at the Rainbow Ford crossing, about 4.5 miles from the trailhead. Here is a groovy little suspension bridge. You’ve got to give it to the NPS: I heart the Forest Service, too, but NPS trails are beautifully built, maintained, and signed. You can tell that they have more resources to devote to this than the NFS. On a long hike like this, it’s nice knowing there will be no worries finding the trail. Another mile takes you to the junction with the Rainbow Lake trail, which crosses Rainbow again, then climbs steep switchbacks into the hanging valley of the N. Fork Rainbow Cr. After reaching the top of the hanging valley, it moderates and travels almost straight north along the N. fork to Rainbow Lake (and another mile to Bowan Pass.).

I saw fresh-looking “liquid cub” Bear scats by the dozens on the trail, but never saw the bears. (Looks like they’ve been eating salal.) It drizzled ever so briefly on the way up a couple times, but no big deal. The colors became increasingly spectacular as I headed into the higher country, as well as the views downlake to the big peaks of the Milham Pass area. One final talus to switchback up brought me to Rainbow Lake, which was just gorgeous with fall colors, including larch trees that had started to turn gold. (In about a week it will be unbelievable up there.) I plopped down for lunch a little after 12:30, enjoying my PBJ, apple, and the fruit and berry trail mix that two wonderful women had sent along with me from home. By 1:00 the skies were looking more threatening, so I thought it’d be wise to get down to a little warmer place before the rain started. Sure enough, by 1:25 it was raining, and it never really stopped the rest of the trip, although it was mostly just a steady drizzle. I got back to the trailhead at 5:00, back home at 5:15, and in a hot shower at 5:16.

First work day

(Non music geeks--there is non music geek content below...scroll down.) 

It was a productive day today--I got down to work and devised the scale system for the two pieces I'm going to be working on here. It has some interesting properties: you music people might want to poke around with it and see what they are:

C-Db-Eb-E-F#-G#-A-B-C-D-E-F-G-Ab-Bb-C

This is an "octave non-repeating" scale, which is typical for me. It actually repeats its pattern every 8 semitones (in other words, the pattern starting from G# is the same as it was starting from C.) So three cycles of 8 = 24, or two octaves. It includes all 12 pitch classes, but over two octaves. You can figure out the rest.

This evening I rode bike (the NPS has one for me) up to Rainbow Falls, which is about 3 miles upvalley from Stehekin Landing, getting there right around sunset. I didn't take the camera, but here is a picture of rainbow falls:

The only problem with bike riding back (it was all downhill) was the million bugs I ate. Dessert!  

I also got some good news by email today: some good friends from Seattle might be able to come and visit while I'm here. All in all, a great day. The only downside is that my watch stopped, and of course, there is nowhere here to get a new battery, or buy a new watch for that matter. And there's no cellphone service, so my phone won't know what time it is either for long. Oh well.

Update

The photo links for all six days are up now in the long hike-log post below.

Settling in in Stehekin

Today was the day for getting unpacked and settled in. There was a small snafu that caused my groceries to arrive a day late, but they got here and everything was fine. All of these pictures were taken either in Imus House (my home here for four weeks) or a few feet away from it.

My workplace

The view from the desk

View from my front porch

View uplake

View downlake

If I can't get inspired here...

The big adventure

I'm in Stehekin! Here is the log I kept of my backpacking trip to get here, along with links to a whole bunch of photos.

Technical note: the photo links are to Flickr sets, one for each day. I recommend opening them in new windows and viewing them as a slide show. Click the "Info On" button to see the titles and descriptions.

Day 1: Wed., Sept. 24

4.5 miles, 1,700 ft. gained

Link to Day 1 Photos

I met my ride at the Wenatchee airport without a hitch and got to the trailhead at about 4:30 in the afternoon. It was cloudy but not raining, although it had rained some on the drive. The 3.5 miles to Leroy Creek (minimal elevation gain) only took about an hour, with a bit of drizzle off and on.

The Leroy Creek Trail was a different story--brutally steep! But Leroy Creek Falls was spectacular, and there were some great views through the clouds, up and down Phelps Creek and (way) up to Seven Fingered Jack and Maude. (Mt. Maude is tomorrow's destination.) It took a little over an hour to climb the first mile to the Leroy Creek Crossing, where I made camp in the rain at 6:45, at about 5,320 feet. (I was hesitant to continue to the basin, not wanting to hike such steep terrain by headlamp in the rain. "Make conservative decisions" was the very last thing Tracey told me on the phone on the way to the trailhead, after all.)

I cooked corn and potato chowder by headlamp and hit the tent--wet, but undaunted.

Day 2: Thur, Sept. 25

est. 7.5 miles (mostly off-trail); 3,000 ft. gained; 2,200 ft. lost

Link to day 2 photos

It rained off and on (mostly on) all night, and is still raining at 7:00 am. I slept fairly warm--I'm guessing the low was around 40. I'm biding my time in the tent: I will abort the trip to Ice Lakes and Mt Maude if it rains all day, but the forecast says it might taper off later this morning.

The rain stopped around 9:00, so I quickly broke camp and hiked the steep mile up to Leroy Creek Basin in about 45 minutes, where I was greeted by a group of does. There was even a little sun as I made camp, allowing the tent and fly to dry a little--things were looking up! At about 10:45, I took off for Ice Lakes. By now, it was drizzling off and on. It is about 3 miles and 2,000 ft cross country (there is boot-built trail some of the way) to the saddle on the Entiat crest which leads to Upper Ice Lake. I didn't have much trouble route-finding on the way: the traverse through Leroy Basin beneath the cliffs of Mt. Maude alternates wooded sections and scree/rocklide traverses, on very steep terrain. There is pretty good trail in the wooded sections, but you have to watch very closely for a few cairns in the rocky areas. There was fresh snow on the peaks of the Entiat crest above.

I reached the infamous gully (the pictures don't do it justice: it is a deep gash in the mountainside) and didn't have too much trouble crossing it, although it is formidable. It was now lightly snowing, as I completed the rest of the climb to the saddle between the Leroy and Chipmunk Creek drainages. I ate lunch  at about 12:45, in increasing snow, at this beautiful spot with its yellow pumice soil and some Larch trees just starting to turn gold. (In a week or two, they'll be spectacular.) Elevation 6,820.

After lunch, I headed off to the Entiat crest at 7,800. There is a beautiful boot path through the pumice slopes--as good as any official trail. But the pumice soil is especially slippery when wet, and it was now snowing harder and harder. This last drag is steep: gaining 1,000 ft in not much more than 1/2 a mile. I reached the crest, the gateway to Ice Lakes, the place above any other place in the Cascades that I've so wanted to visit for so long, in a full-on blizzard. I couldn't even see the lakes, and the snow was starting to accumulate. I was especially worried about getting through the gully on the way back, since I figured it was raining down there. If that loose dirt were any wetter, it would really be treacherous. So, within a 1/2 mile of Upper Ice Lake, I made another one of those conservative (but painful) decisions, and turned around. I will get to Ice Lakes another time. (Here's a picture of what I missed.)

This turned out to be a good decision. For one thing, it took me longer to get back to camp then it did to get here, even though it's mostly downhill. I had routefinding problems 3 times. (In my hurry to beat the weather, I had committed the classic blunder of not turning around often enough to see what the route would look like on the way back.) The first two problems were between the Chipmunk Creek saddle and the gully: both times I ended up below the correct route and had to climb on very steep and rough terrain to regain it.

Then, the gully: I tried to cross in the same place I had on the way, but the dirt was much wetter and looser and I had some trouble. About halfway down (it is maybe 25 feet deep), my feet slipped out from under me, and I slid the rest of the way, tearing my pants, my knee, and abrading my hands in several places. It was also very difficult climbing out.

Now I was home free, if bloody. Well, sort-of: Having lost the route below twice already, I had clearly learned my lesson, because now I lost it above between the gully and the main basin (where my camp was). The terrain was steep and wooded and slippery when wet, so this slowed me down considerably.

I finally got back to camp a little before 4:00. It rained on and off the rest of the day. I did some first aid and got into the driest clothes I had, then I collected water from a branch of Leroy Creek a few steps outside my tent and fixed 3-bean chili for dinner. It was excellent (but it gave me heartburn--or maybe that was the gully exacting it's revenge). I hit the tent with my trip log and a book around 6:00. Even though the weather was bad, I still got some beautiful views of the Entiat crest poking through the clouds. This is truly a spectacular and rugged area. Today was my most extreme travel of the trip, and hopefully my most extreme weather as well, if the forecast holds.

About 7:00 pm, I got up to get a Zantac down from the bear bag, and it was clearer than it had been all day: a good sign. Just as I settled into the tent, what sounded like a huge rockfall came crashing down from Seven Fingered Jack above me. (Scary!)

Day 3: Friday, Sept. 26

11.5 miles; 3,300 ft. gained; 3,800 ft. lost

Link to day 3 photos

I got up to pee at about 3:15, and was greeted with a good news/bad news situation. The good news was that spectacular star display meaning the sky is clear. The bad news was that it was no more than 20 degrees and nothing I had was really very dry yet. Brrr. I got up about 6:30, finding everything that was wet last night (that would be everything) frozen this morning. The temp had climbed all the way up to 24.  I hit the trail around 8:00. The Leroy Creek trail is steep enough that it's almost as slow going down it as up it, especially when it's wet. I reached the  Phelps Creek trail and hit it hard the couple miles through unremarkable forest to Spider Meadow, which is just a gorgeous place. I had the first installment of lunch at the Phelps Creek crossing, at the far end of Spider Meadow, where I was able to sit on something dry (a rock), which was something of a novelty. Then the real climbing begins: up a mile to Larch Knob (what a beautiful place!) and course 2 of lunch. Then on to Spider Glacier. (It's not really a glacier anymore: just a permanent snowfield.) The snow was fairly hard (there hasn't been much sun lately), so the ascent would probably not have been possible without trekking poles (or an ice axe and/or crampons). I reached Spider Gap at about 2:00, but didn't linger long because a cold breeze was funneling up Spider Glacier.

The snowfields on the Lyman side were also fairly hard (and steep)--it was slow going down. The third installment of lunch was above the snout of the Lyman Glacier ( a real glacier) at about 3:00. I had a little trouble finding the route down toward Lyman Lakes: the area below the glacier is just a rocky wasteland. Once the trail is found, it is absolutely gorgeous parkland from here to Lower Lyman Lake and Railroad Creek, where I made camp a little after 5:00 in a fairly unappealing woods camp.

I have never seen as much spectacular scenery in one day as I did today--simply amazing. I briefly pondered continuing on with extra water to a possibly dry camp below Cloudy Pass, but I was pretty tired and wanted to dry my gear in the last bits of sun. I managed to get everything fairly dry, and I'm a little ahead of schedule, so tomorrow can include a climb of Cloudy Peak and/or some rest and recuperation time at Image Lake.

It's hard to believe my trip is half over. In spite of the poor weather (no complaints today, though--partly sunny and warmer), this is just absolutely fantastic so far. I've not seen another human, and I'm enjoying the solitude of an extended solo hike more than I thought I might.

Day 4: Saturday, Sept. 27

8 miles; 3,300 ft. gained; 2,800 ft. lost

Link to day 4 photos

It was cloudier and not so cold last night. I slept alright, although there was a lot of animal activity near me all night: mostly deer and small animals, I think. I thought there were supposed to be bear cables at this camp (there weren't), but I got a pretty good bear bag hung, and banged a pot during the night a couple times when it sounded like something larger was around. I hit the trail a little after 8 and was at Cloudy Pass about 9. It was still pretty overcast. I packed my fanny pack and headed up good boot-built trail toward Cloudy Peak. I got to about the 7,500 ft. level and decided that was enough--every route I could calculate up the last 400 ft to the summit looked fairly exposed, it was cold, and the clouds were being stubborn anyway. I hung around a while in a little grotto in the talus, had a chat with a pika, and took some pictures. (I never got a picture of the pika, because he never stood still long enough. Some have said that pikas are the cutest animals in the world. Here is a picture of a pika.) 

I headed back down to my pack at the pass and started the steep trail (down and up) to Suiattle Pass. Then I had the somewhat tedious traverse toward Miners Ridge. The forest is very dense and brushy here on the west side of the Cascade Crest--you can tell that it rains more here than where I've been so far.

The clouds were gradually disappearing, and more and more views opened up as I traversed miners ridge: Glacier Peak, Fortress, Chiwawa, The Dakobed Range (Mt. Clark), Tenpeak, etc. The last couple miles of miners ridge are beautiful grassy slopes. I had a chat with a marmot here (marmots might rival pikas in cuteness, and I did get a picture this time). I arrived at Image Lake about 3:00, getting the pick of the designated campsites at 6,200 ft., about 1/4 mile below the lake. The view of Glacier Peak was spectacular.

I walked up to the lake to fetch water from the little trickle of an inlet stream, and since swimming is allowed until the inlet dries up, I went for it. Yes, it was very cold. But it was sunny, and warmer than it'd been the whole trip (maybe 55?), so it was tolerable, and it sure felt good to be a little cleaner.

I had ramen noodles and dehydrated blueberry cheesecake for dinner, cleaned up, and did a little maintenance work on my feet. Then I walked back to the lake to get some of those classic photos of Glacier Peak over Image Lake in the day's last light, which means I'll be hiking back to camp by headlamp. What a fantastic end to a fantastic day. Image Lake is almost too beautiful to be real: it is as if God set out to create the perfect place from which to view Glacier Peak.

Day 5: Sunday, Sept. 28

11.5 miles; 1,700 ft. gained; 4,100 ft. lost

Link to day 5 photos

It was clear and very cold again last night: I think the low was around 25. I opened the tent to the spectacular sight of Glacier Peak in first light--what a way to start a Sunday in the presence of God's awesome work in nature. I cooked breakfast for the first time this trip--it was tasty and warmed me up inside. I hit the trail about 8:30. I took a little side trip up the steep, grassy slope to the crest of Miners Ridge, where I found great views that were definitely worth the effort, including a view down to Image Lake. I hit Suiattle pass mid-morning and started the long (20 miles) descent down Agnes Creek. The parkland below Suiattle pass was especially beautiful. I was starting to drag a little, looking for a good lunch spot for what seemed like forever. The forest here is very wet, and you can go a long time without a decent place to sit down. Finally, I hit the crossing of Agnes Creek, a bit below some falls. I had a nice liesurely lunch here, knowing it was only about 4 more miles down to Hemlock Camp. I'm glad I'm going down Agnes Creek: I can see where 20 miles uphill in mostly dark forest could get a little tedious.

The first couple miles after lunch were brushy, wet, and muddy--this was a little demoralizing. But the trail got better, and about 3:00 I arrived at Hemlock Camp, which features (duh) giant hemlock trees somehow surviving in an area of flood devastation from some flood long ago. I had direct sun until about 4:15, giving me a chance to set some creek water in the sun to bathe with and soak my feet in the warm sun and very cold creek. Some hikers passed through: they were hiking the Pacific Crest Trail (which I was now on) from Mexico to Canada--they only have about 5 days to go. I gathered up some firewood, but it's a challenge: everything is either green or rotted.

Dinner was most excellent Mac Patch Mac & Cheese and a dark chocolate bar with blueberries. But the evening did end with two somewhat disconcerting events:

1. A solo through-hiker arrived well after dark, just as I was enjoying the last bit of my fire and reading by headlamp. He kindof startled me. He was a little strange and socially awkward. As I lay in my tent later, I remembered the rumors about a rapist hiding out on the PCT heading north. This made for a less than relaxing night. (He was gone without incident when I got up at 6:15, before dawn. So, whoever you were, sorry for thinking you might be a psycho.)

2. Hemlock Camp has mice. They got into some of my food when I was not looking, and even chewed through my bear bag during the night--right through the odor-proof plastic sack inside. They have good taste, at least: they chewed the Larribars (which are my favorite) and left the Cliff Bars (which I have found I can barely choke down. It's like eating the Sahara Desert). Good thing it was the last day and I had packed plenty of extra food.

Day 6: Monday, Sept. 29

13 miles; 1,000 ft. gained; 3,900 ft. lost

Link to day 6 photos

I got up about 6:15 and broke camp by headlamp. Damn mice! I hit it pretty hard today, hoping to catch the 3:00 bus from High Bridge down to Stehekin, rather than have to wait for the 6:00 bus. I had a nice rest at Swamp Creek, and another little one by the spectacular falls just above where the West Fork of Agnes Creek meets the main creek. (It's a little strange to call Agnes Creek a "creek" now--it is a mighty river at this point.) I had to inch out onto a scary little balcony to get the photos of the falls. The forest is now becoming drier--smaller trees, and it is getting warmer.

I stopped for lunch just short of the Glacier Peak Wilderness boundary (I've been in the GP Wilderness this whole time), and peeled off layers, making it all the way down to just shorts and a silkweight shirt, for the first time. As I traversed the last miles high above Agnes Gorge, I could recall why Stehekin is such a spectacular place--it was warm, and the forest was sunny and pleasant and didn't smell like decaying plant matter. I got my first views across the Stehekin Valley to McGregor Mt., and upvalley to Goode. There is smoke in the air, which I later learned is from a controlled burn at Weaver Point (the very head of Lake Chelan, across from Stehekin Landing). 

I crossed Agnes Creek as it exited the gorge on a beautiful new bridge, crossed into North Cascades National Park, and was at High Bridge in a few minutes, right at 2:00.

There I found a pleasant sunny balcony over the Stehekin River and finished this log while I waited for the bus. It was in the 80s. Stehekin is a fantastic place. This backpacking trip has been beyond all expectations spectacular. I'm so fortunate that I am physically able to do this, that my family supported me being away for a month, and that I can have a sabbatical to make this kind of thing possible. I would do it again in a heartbeat!

The grand totals: 56 miles; 14,000 ft. gained; 16,800 ft. lost; one amazing adventure never to be forgotten.

Lazing in Chelan

Looking up Lake Chelan from near the town of Chelan

Yesterday was my travel day: today I am "laying up" in Chelan. I pushed the start of my backpacking trip back a day (from today to tomorrow afternoon) due to rain/snow in the forecast.

Chelan is a more appealing town than I remembered. I guess that's because I lived in Seattle the last couple times I was here, and Seattleites scoff at all things Eastern Washington.

I walked about 3-4 miles this morning, snapping this "first light" photo looking uplake. It was about 40 degrees. (I specifically wanted to test out how warm my new Patgonia Capilene 3 baselayer was: I'm relieved--it was quite warm!)

Chelan River (lake is beyond bridge) at first light

Today I set up charge accounts at the supermarkets (for ordering groceries from Stehekin) and buy non-perishable groceries to send up by boat tomorrow morning. Then the real adventure begins tomorrow afternoon. The forecast looks really bad for Wed and Thur. (Cold, rainy, possibly snow in the high country.) But once I endure that mostly clear skies are expected from Saturday on.

Photo Preview

Here is a photo preview of places I'll be visiting on my backpacking trip into Stehekin. You can click on individual photos to see the larger image, or view them as a slideshow. (If you view the slideshow, click "info on" to see the labels and descriptions of the photos.)

Introduction

OK, so there's really nothing of any interest here now. I'm going to use this blog to keep people back home (and wherever) up to date on my Stehekin getaway, beginning in late September, 2008, while I'm on sabbatical from Kansas State University.