Weekend Photos: On to the Goat Rocks!

 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. Today we're on across White Pass and approaching the Goat Rocks--the scenic highlight of the trip.

The fog that settled on my camp in the late afternoon turned overnight to a wet mizzle, maybe even a drizzle. I wasn't keen to get up, but it has to be done, and breakfast cooked and eaten, regardless of the weather. Happily, it wasn't really that wet, though the trees dripped on my tent something fierce.

Starting out on a misty hike, but the sun is making a valiant effort/

The day began with a 1400' descent to cross the Bumping River, at this point little more than a creek and easily spanned by a log.

This was a 7-mile day, with modest climbing and descending, but limited opportunities for photography. When I reached my camp at Snow Lake, the mist was still covering things, but before long the sun came out.

Snow Lake reflections.

I'm a sucker for the fun you can have with reflections.

I shared my camp that night with a pair of sisters-in-law hiking the segment the other direction, and much faster than I, and enjoyed company and conversation again. I was able to get my tent dried in the afternoon sun, and even my boots, mostly. They had been soaked at least twice during the day by wet grass and brush.

The next morning there was dew, but more or less sunny skies most of the day.

Wild blueberries or huckleberries were a highlight of the trip for me--fresh fruit to add to my oatmeal most mornings.

An unnamed trailside pond, in transition to meadow from the looks of it.

A little under 8 miles with very modest climbing and descending brought me to Sand Lake (once again having abandoned my original camp plans due to a crowd of people being there). I found as sheltered a camp as I could--though the afternoon was perfectly sunny and pleasant, the forecast was for a serious thunderstorm lasting from 7 p.m. to 2 a.m. It hardly seemed possible, but I prepared as best I could.

The challenge: trees to shelter me from high winds, but without dead branches or entire trees that could drop on my tent. I got that part right. I messed up in at least one other area.

Petey found a hole in a dead tree that seemed very homey to him, but I convinced him to come into the tent with me.

The storm hit right on schedule, and did, in fact, last hours. That, and the fact that it apparently sat for much of that time over most of western Washington, made it an odd t-storm, and I never did find out just what that was all about.

I survived the night with nothing falling on me, but had failed to consider one thing in siting my tent: drainage. As it turned out, there was nowhere for the rain running off my tent to go except under my tent. It did so--and came through the floor, which after 3 or 4 years of use must have a lot of pin-holes. I soon realized that most of the tent was seriously wet, and spent the night making sure that everything that mattered stayed either entirely atop my sleeping pad or atop my pack.

In the morning I hung around camp drying gear in the sun that obligingly came out in a rare sunny morning. I though this might represent a shift in the general weather pattern, but not really--I continued to have clouds and mist most days.

Puddles filled the trail and reflected the morning--or another world.

At White Pass I had a cell signal, so spent a little time letting the family know I survived, which is also how I found out how widespread the storm had been. I also was finally able to get some concrete info on the rumored trail closure due to a fire "somewhere to the south."

This sign sent me scrambling to my map, where I found to my relief the closure was ten miles south of my planned exit from the trail. Fires, either causing trail closures or smoke, have become a normal part of hiking in the last few years, and you always need to have a plan.

Starting on from White Pass I had a large climb but also, finally, some views of Mt. Rainier in all her glory.

Pretty sure that storm put a fresh layer of the white stuff on the mountain.

The climb was alongside the ski area, though most of the time the trail stayed out of sight of the infrastructure.

Now inside the Goat Rocks Wilderness Area, I began to get the scenery I'd been missing the last several days as the trail climbed among the rugged peaks. It was a long day and a lot of climbing, but fortunately by now I'd eaten enough to have my back weight back down to the mid-20s, which I carry pretty easily.

On the trail.

 
The clouds began to move in as the day went on, and it never got all that warm. I appreciate cool weather while hiking, though it cost me some views as "The Mountain" (Rainier, to us Seattle folk) veiled herself once again. I kept my eyes ahead as the high country began to come into sight instead.

Shoe Lake is a pretty mountain lake, and I'd originally thought to detour down there--there's no camping, but a swim and a closer look would have been good. But the day was a long one, and I was feeling a week of hiking with no rest days. I admired it from the ridge, and wished there were water up there so I could have a camp with a view.

When I topped a pass and saw Shoe Lake, I also got my first look at the heart of the Goat Rocks, and at Old Snowy (the higher peak on the far right of the photo below). I knew the trail would be going more or less over that.

A camp on the ridge would be fantastic, but I don't haul water any more than I have to.

 

The camp at the end of this 11-mile day (with nearly 2400' up and 2300' down) was at Hidden Springs, and a long way down. Only the next morning did I learn that there was a campsite 1/3 mile beyond the spring with some amazing views. I'd have hauled water for that, though I enjoyed the company at the springs. As the only campsite in quite a ways either direction, it was a fairly popular spot.

One thing about a camp in the forest--there is much less dew, and this was a rare morning when I awoke without condensation in my tent (the constant problem with single-wall tents).

I could have camped with this view, and more sun morning and afternoon.

It was a pretty chilly evening and morning, making me wonder if I'd misread the calendar. Was I off by a month, hiking in late September instead of mid-August?

Petey didn't want to get up. Neither did I.

Next up: the stunning conclusion!

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


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