Weekend Photos: Goat Rocks Concluded

Back in August, I spent 12 days walking an 80-mile segment of the Washington PCT (Pacific Crest Trail). So far I've featured the 1st three days and a bit, from our start near Crystal Mountain Ski Area to Chinook Pass, and a couple of days continuing south into the William O. Douglas wilderness. Last weekend we started into the Goat Rocks, and today we'll conclude the trip (so I can move on to the next one, and the one after that, and the one I'm about to do... I'm spending a lot of time in the wilderness and not so much working on that novel...).

I left Hidden Springs, my 8th camp of the trip, fairly late. I didn't have a long hike planned for the day, so enjoyed my morning, taking time to contemplate the terrain I was about to hike through.

The heart of the Goat Rocks.

The trail promptly descended several hundred feet to Teiton Pass, deep in the forest (how wrong is that?), before climbing to a much more dramatic saddle with no name, but fantastic views. This wasn't far from where I meant to stop, so I enjoyed a bit of sunshine and the views with my second lunch.

Approaching the no-name saddle, with Old Snowy poking up from behind the ridge on the left.

 My intention, once I'd eaten enough and sat enough, was to camp as high as I could without being beyond the last water, which would have committed me to crossing the Spine and the peak--more than I wanted to tackle in the afternoon with the clouds moving in. I am always leery of getting caught by thunderstorms on high ridges. (As it turns out, it cleared up and I could have done it, and had fantastic views, but it would have been pushing it).

Naturally, from the saddle the trail drops before climbing back into the high cirque where I camped. There were scenic rewards.

Mountain streams were still supporting rich wildflower gardens.

I found an okay camp, though a bit exposed to the wind, and thought it was as high as I could go. But having some time to kill, I wandered higher up for photos of the flowers and in search of a view of Rainier--and found a camp so much better that I was actually willing to dismantle and move my camp.

Anemones, with hints of Mt. Rainier beyond the nearer ridge.

The sun came back out after I'd gotten the new camp set up. This was farther off the trail and much less worn-out, as well as having views and far better shelter from the wind, which was pretty stiff.

I chose to call this otherwise nameless camp the Last Homely House. Stats: 6.8 miles (not including extra explorations). 2000' up, 1425' down. By this time, my pack weight was nicely down to the low 20s, with only 3 days of food, which I appreciated as I climbed nearly to the summit of Old Snowy the next day.

Just around the corner from my tent, a fantastic view when The Mountain (i.e., Rainier) came out for a while.

Sunrise from my perch.

Breakfast with a view. Moved away from camp both for the view and the sun!

Sadly, the sun soon disappeared into the clouds, and I left camp just before 8 without getting the condensation dried off my tent.

Rainier disappears into the clouds even as the sun rises.

 The trail climbed steeply right from camp, and despite my relatively light pack, I was not moving fast. At Elk Pass I began to get new and inspiring views, and still had hopes the morning clouds would burn off for me.

Continuing up from Elk Pass, onto the Spine, an at times quite narrow ridge leading to the peak itself. I never found it unnerving, but I guess some do?

Before the clouds moved in I got a passing hiker to shoot a few heroic shots of me. I was definitely dressed to blend in with the landscape--one reason I always have my bright orange pack cover with me. I like to hide a bit, but not if I ever needed rescue!

Sadly, as I neared the mountain itself, the clouds grew thicker, not thinner.

The PCT actually runs across the west face of Old Snowy, but steep snowfields linger there all summer, and as I had neither microspikes nor an ice axe, nor boots that were terribly good on snow, I did as most hikers do, and took the by-pass route, which climbs to a point 300' below the summit before dropping steeply back to the PCT.

A blooming clump of (I think) buckwheat, high on the mountain. Flowers may bloom in the most unlikely places.

Nearing the high point. I was able to find a sheltered spot at the saddle for a bit of lunch. To the east, the clouds dissipated quickly and there were actually some views.

Over the peak and heading down, I soon reached the flower-strewn meadows of Snowgrass Flats. It would have been cool to camp there, but there is no water, and the fragile environment makes it a sketchy place to stop in any case. On a better day, I'd have been looking from here at a fairly close-up view of Mt. Adams. In my case, I could see the lower slopes angling up to hint at what was up there. I never did see more than a glimpse of Adams.

Paintbrush.

Snowgrass Flats, looking off toward where I'll stop.

Along the way in Snowgrass Flats I met Dan, a digital nomad doing a night or so on the trail in hopes of climbing Old Snowy for the famous views. We chatted for a while, and I gave him the scoop on the trail.

It was a good day for hanging out in the high country, but not for the high peaks.

 

Another cooperative Pika.

 
Eventually (sometime after 3) I reached my targeted campsite in the Cispus Basin. To my surprise, no one else shared the area, where there were good tent sites and accessible water, though people were camped in some more marginal sites along the trail farther on.

Hard to see here, but I had a wildflower meadow keeping me company in camp.

Stats for the day: 7.4 miles, 2200' up and 2100' down.

In the morning, I was sorry to find that it was completely socked in with clouds, and was feeling a little bummed about the views I'd missed on the trip, thanks to all the not-so-typical weather (not typical for August, anyway). Then the clouds parted for a moment, and I looked up to see a whole herd of mountain goats grazing on the slope above me. It was a little gift to remind me why I was out there.

I don't carry a long telephoto, so that's about as good as it gets. That was also about as clear as it got for many hours.

At this point, I was scheduled for one more night on the trail. But when I woke up in the clouds, wet from a rain shower, and having had to re-inflate my sleeping pad several times in the night, I found myself thinking that I might like to head for the trailhead, though it would be a long day. I didn't decide right then, but once admitted to one's mind, the idea is hard to shake.

From camp I climbed to Cispus Pass, which was scenic and would have offered some impressive views if there were fewer clouds. Conditions were not inspiring me

Hoary marmot, apparently enjoying the misty day.

After a few hours of hiking, I could see Waptus Lake below me--my meet-up point for my ride out of there. Once I spotted that, it was hard not to continue, especially when I found my intended campsite about 1:30 p.m., and saw nothing about it to make me want to hang out for hours. I still thought I might camp a little farther along, but found no water until I reached the lake.

In the end, I hiked 12 1/4 miles, mostly downhill (nearly 3000' down), to reach the campground at the lake. My feet and knees have a lot to say about days like that, but I told them to shut up and kept my thoughts on the salads Zeke was bringing for me to pig out on when I finished hiking. That was way more appealing than another dehydrated dinner, and tipped the balance to not stopping anywhere short of the trailhead! I still camped that night, but had a good dip in the lake and a change of clothes, and the salad.

Despite the weather, it was a great trip, but I would be happy to go back sometime and see the big volcanoes that so thoroughly eluded me!

 

 

 

Next week: Mt. Hood's Timberline Trail!

 

©Rebecca M. Douglass, 2024
 As always, please ask permission to use any photos or text. Link-backs appreciated. 


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