9/28/2024
Section: Milepost 2466.9 to 2485.3
Total Trail Miles: 2533.9 Miles
Distance: 18.67 Miles
Moving Time: 07:57 Hrs
Elevation Gain: 4098 ft
Note: Strava says Day 164 because it is counting a failed attempt at this section in June. I didn’t want to write about that so i am picking up where we left off in Fall of last year, on day 161. Just FYI.
Ahh, back at it again. It’s been almost a year since my last post, since we skipped up to Washington Pass to walk to the northern terminus of the PCT and finish our 2023 efforts on the trail and a lot has happened since then. We bought a house in March in our hometown of Bellingham and we attempted this last section 3 months ago, at the end of June. That’s right, a first attempt of the Glacier Peak wilderness in June resulted in a bail-out by Amanda’s Aunt and Uncle after 2 days traversing endless snowfields in the area. On the second day we were averaging a mile an hour again, which was just a little too reminiscent of the Sierra in 2023, so we called it quits and decided to come back after the fires were out. We thought we might not even get a chance to do this this year but, in late September, the Forest Service re-opened some key sections of the Glacier Peak Wilderness and we scrambled to get things together to close this last section out.
Our friend, Keith, picked us up early on this Saturday morning at our house in the Lettered Streets neighborhood of Bellingham. He had said he didn’t have much planned today and wanted to see the pass, and we gladly took him up on it. I smiled and wished him a good morning as I slung my new Hyperlight backpack into the back of his Toyota - that’s right, I'm part of the cool kids club now, with my Jet Black Southwest dyneema backpack. No Smart Water bottle yet, but… baby steps. We cruised down I-5 and eventually reached the turn-off to head east on Highway 2. We stopped in Monroe at a family favorite coffee shop for some caffeine before continuing up the pass. It was clear this morning, not a lot of people going into or coming out of the mountains. The day was gorgeous as we neared the top, arguing about whether SAP was a good program or not.
We reached the crest just before 10 am. The day was beautiful as we unloaded our gear onto the parking lot. We peered across the road to the south side of the pass where we had come down on weary legs, in the dark, almost a year ago, to be whisked further down to Leavenworth by Amanda’s parents. “We’ve walked that whole distance back to Canada from here,” Amanda commented, following my gaze. “Indeed we have, that’s an amazing thought,” I responded “let’s hope we can get the line completed this time.” Keith chimed in with assurances that he would come save us if we needed it. We laughed and thanked him. This section is not a fun one to bail on, and we know first hand that fact, so we both hoped that no saving would be necessary. We did our classic warm-ups and each gave Keith a hug, despite the fact that he is not a hugger. Then we snapped a picture in front of the Trail #2000 PCT sign, wrote our names down on the log and sprinted into the trees.
The stage today is a similar one to what we began with earlier this summer. It begins by paralleling the highway east for a mile and a half, heading slightly downhill before turning north and heading up the Nason Creek valley then committing to a 2 mile, thousand foot climb to lake Valhalla, nestled below Mount McCausland. The trail rises over a small pass above the Lake before plunging 1000 feet to the head of the Rapid River Valley, which it circumvents, heading Northwest as it climbs past lake Janus. Past the lake, the trail commits to a second climb, 2 miles and another thousand feet to a small plateau. Here it traverses past the banks of Glass Lake, which should be called Butterfly Lake, and eases into its final, short climb of the day, to Grizzly Peak. At the peak, the trail makes a final descent, down the arm of Grizzly Ridge, to Wenatchee Pass, coming to a rest at Pear Lake, where things end for the day.
The day was bright and full of hope as we took-off east, enjoying the momentary bliss of hiking at a slight decline next to the highway. The roar of cars could still be heard but we eventually turned north and began our first climb of the day. It was quiet today, only an occasional person coming down from the very popular Valhalla Lake as we dropped into our climbing gear and began gaining altitude. Around 2.5 miles in, we heard our first Pika and both responded with our own interpretation of their hilarious, high-pitched squeak. We stopped for a quick snack and then continued on up. I am LOADED with potato chips on this trip. They are my favorite - truly the MVP of trail snacks.
Eventually we reached the lake, and the groups became more numerous. There is a more popular approach from the north, via the Smithbrook Trailhead, that gets a lot of travel and today was no exception. At around 1 pm we reached the small saddle above the lake and stopped, just as we had 2 months before, to have another snack. It had been even more busy in June, like masses of people coming up to the lake, despite spots of snow, so it was nice to have a bit more peace later in the summer. A couple with a bunch of dogs that we had been hoscotching with caught up and continued on past the saddle. I’m guessing this section is a good one for car shuttling.
After our snack, we continued on, this time heading downhill on the first major descent of the day. The crowds disappeared at the turnoff for the Smithbrook Trailhead and we descended further into old growth forest, massive trees rising all around us as we zoomed down the curated switchbacks. We reached the bottom, near Janus Lake, and I turned to Amanda joking “Okay, don’t fall in this time.” 2 months earlier, we had reached this part which, at the time, was in a much “muckier” state and Amanda had slipped attempting to cross the outflow from Janus Lake, falling in. She crossed it without issue this time.
From Janus Lake, we continued upwards. There were tons of rotting mushrooms beside the path from which emanate a constant underlying scent of decay. We commented on it several times as we climbed higher. They were everywhere. An hour of climbing brought us to Glass Lake, which we stopped briefly at to admire and discuss our options. It had been a bit of a late start today and we hadn’t been sure how fast we were going to be able to move after a year off, but we were cruising and feeling good. We decided to check in after the next climb up to Grizzly Peak, where we had ended our first day on the attempt earlier in the summer. We dawdled along a bit further before committing to the final climb of the day up to the peak. The light was starting to fade a bit as we overcame the last few switchbacks and arrived at the top. We took a look at where we had crash landed in June. A sad little outcropping on the north side of the peak where we had been able to find a small patch of snow-free space to haphazardly pitch our tent. Conditions were a whole lot better now. We stopped and discussed for a bit before choosing to go a little further on, to Pear Lake, where there would be good water and some excellent camping spots, if FarOut could be believed.
From Grizzly Peak we descended. It continued to be crowdless. We hadn’t seen anyone since the trailrunners we had encountered just beyond the turnoff for the Smithbrook Trailhead. We likely wouldn’t see many people the deeper we got into this incredibly remote section of the PCT. We made the long descent to Wenatchee Pass in just under an hour, remembering how we had done much of it on snow just a few months before. It was much nicer now to be able to fly on a clear and defined trail. At the pass we turned back-up hill, now starting to feel the full gravity of the 18 miles we had committed to. None-the-less, we climbed quickly as the sun began the final stages of its retreat. We cleared out a few small switchbacks and our lake came into view in the dim light. Just beyond we took a small side trail to get us down to some wonderfully flat and open pads beside a classic Cascades lake. The sky was overcast, contributing to the acceleration of darkness.
Despite being out of practice, Amanda and I split into our typical camp duties. I went and collected water while she set-up the tent. I came back and she went off to use the restroom. At this point a silent shape made her first swoop about 10 feet above my head. A very friendly owl came out to say hello in what was probably the first hours of her morning. She swooped low several more times, completely silent, before choosing a lone tree-top right above us to roost and watch. “She must know we bring the mice out,” I said to Amanda. “In that case, she can stay there all night, because I am not looking forward to their antics this evening.” We ate, discussing how much better things were this time of year before deciding to turn in. It was at this point I realized something pretty terrible. Just ahead of this trip, I had invested in a new, larger battery pack to support us through the 8-9 day stretch. This was the first time I was going to attempt to charge something and it was at this point I found the pack to be completely dead, despite having sat plugged into the wall the night before and despite displaying a full charge status earlier today. “This piece of shit!” I exclaimed, explaining to Amanda what I had found. “Do we have to go back?” she asked. We both thought about it and agreed that, no, we wouldn’t have to go back. We wouldn’t need our headlamps like we had in the latter days of the PCT last year and we could nurse our phones along well enough to get through, no we wouldn’t have to turn back but I was going to miss recording some days, which I wasn’t happy about.
We turned in, listening to the soft patter of rain-drops on our fly. That part sucked but the weather had looked like it was going to be a bit of everything. Amanda wrote in her diary and I added some things before we committed to some light reading and called it a day. Our first day back on the PCT!
