#granite pass

[twoseparatecoursesmeet]

A Highway through Wyoming, 1980

Mickey Crisp

[millesaniclaim]

arthur morgan and hungarian half-bred. granite pass views

[coldmorte]

Tears that soak a callous heart.

[red-dead-scribbles-ff]

GRIZZLIES WEST 🌲

Some sunrise pictures up near Granite Pass

Feel free to use but please credit if you do

[rdr2album]

“Who the Hell is Leviticus Cornwall?”

Granite Pass, Ambarino.

[pcttrailsidereader]

The Best of the Washington PCT

This is an excerpt of a longer article published in The Seattle Times a while back. Sometimes Washington gets overshadowed by the excitement of the first weeks on the trail in the desert south and the majesty of the High Sierra, but some of the most stunning mileage along the trail comes in the final 500 miles. It can be cold and wet in late September and October but glorious in July and August … a great time to hike in Washington.

The truth is that this assessment of the highlights does not leave out much . . . nothing north of Snoqualmie Pass.  There is some beautiful trail near Mt. Rainier that some might argue belongs on the list.  What would you add or delete from this list?

By Terry Wood, Seattle Times

So what sections are the trail’s best in Washington? I’ve hiked more than two-thirds of the state’s PCT miles, making repeat visits to prime sections, and my “best-of” list is a four-way tie (details in a moment).

Others offer tips on least-favorite stretches. Lorain considers two sections marginal: from the Oregon border north to Mount Adams (where first power lines, then heavy forest, diminish views, though the Indian Heaven Wilderness west of Trout Lake rates applause), and a long stretch of miles south of Snoqualmie Pass.

“A lot of checkerboards,” McCarty says of Snoqualmie Pass south, referring to patches of intermittently harvested forest. His threesome walked the 22 miles between Stampede Pass and Interstate 90 as a long, call-of-duty day hike. A ray of hope: A land sale announced in March could lead to a rerouting of part of that trail. Good news, says McCarty. “For about five miles south of Snoqualmie Pass, it’s crappy trail,” he says.

Now my idea of the good stuff:

• Mount Adams (Forest Service Road 23) north to White Pass (U.S. Highway 12), 66 miles.

The westside portion of Mount Adams’ Highline Trail also doubles as the PCT and is, as McCarty correctly points out, a gorgeous area. Bonus: This portion of trail is relatively level for miles.

The section’s showstopper, though, is the Goat Rocks Wilderness and the rocky, barren, narrow path the PCT follows over the shoulder of 7,880-foot Old Snowy. Though harrowing to people uncomfortable with heights and steep drop-offs, this section’s sky-high views northwest to Rainier and south to Adams are memory-makers.

In “Trekking Washington” Woodmansee outlines a good game plan for catching three of the region’s major highlights (Cispus Basin, the climb to Old Snowy and Shoe Lake): a 30-mile, one-way push from remote Walupt Lake to White Pass. The downside: A required 50-mile car shuttle that runs through Packwood, with more than a third of the drive on dirt road.

• Snoqualmie Pass (I-90) to Stevens Pass (U.S. Highway 2), 71 miles.

Due to the almost legendary appeal of the Kendall Katwalk — a narrow stretch of trail that was dynamited into existence along a steep granite slope six miles north of Snoqualmie Pass — a bazillion curious urban day hikers have been able to claim they have experienced at least a taste of the Pacific Crest Trail.

With its big views, not-so-easy approach (2,600-foot elevation gain) and hint of danger, a hike to the Katwalk (starting at the PCT trailhead just north of Exit 52 on I-90) is a worthwhile teaser to what makes the PCT so appealing.

More treasures lie farther north: the rugged Chikamin Ridge and Park Lakes; bedazzling Spectacle Lake (often approached by overnight backpackers from Cle Elum); Cathedral Rock; Deception Pass, the knockout view of Glacier Lake (with Glacier Peak looming far to the north) from Pieper Pass.

A one-way, pass-to-pass jaunt is great fun for low-weight, high-speed backpackers searching for a challenge. I once covered the 71 miles in three days, another time in four. Even if you take the customary seven days, it’s a rewarding way to get an in-depth look at Seattle’s next-door mountains.

• Stevens Pass (U.S. 2) to Rainy Pass (Highway 20), 127 miles.

The longest and toughest section of the PCT, with multiple lung-busting climbs and sharp descents, may also be its prettiest. As Romano says, the meadows (and berry patches) along this stretch are uncommonly lovely. From Kodak Peak north to White Pass and Red Pass, the PCT sends hikers soaring along a towering ridgeline.

And the hits just keep coming. “When you start at Stevens, Glacier Peak is constantly up ahead, like a beacon, luring you in the entire way,” Romano says. “It’s the wildest of the Washington Cascade volcanoes. After miles of meadows, you come to Red Pass, and Glacier is suddenly right in your face.

Beyond Red Pass, now you go through alpine tundra and past a cinder cone (White Chuck Cinder Cone) that’s one of the coolest cinder cones outside of Lassen Volcanic National Park. Then you swing around Glacier Peak and head up to Fire Creek Pass and eventually Miners Ridge and Suiattle Pass. It’s just a great area.”

The 2014 reopening of the Suiattle River Road (Forest Service Road 26) north of Darrington has restored easier westside trail access for shorter trips to the region.

For fit, ambitious hikers, a smart approach for nearly seeing it all is to park a vehicle at Stevens Pass, shuttle a second car to Chelan, then ride a boat to Stehekin. Next, take a national park bus to the High Bridge junction on the PCT and hike 108 miles south. (Whoa.) Plan for eight or more mind-blowing days.

• Rainy Pass (Highway 20) to Canadian border, 61 miles.

The most common introduction to this area is the day hike from Rainy Pass to gorgeous, 6,800-foot Cutthroat Pass (10 miles round-trip, 2,000-foot elevation gain). Tip: Venture even farther north, to Granite Pass, and take in the long-distance view of Golden Horn and mighty Tower Mountain.

Or drive the primitive, winding, not-for-the-timid Harts Pass Road (built in 1893; recently reopened after a rockfall was cleared) to Harts Pass and either walk south to expansive Grasshopper Pass, or north 3.5 miles to Windy Pass while gawking at the high-density cluster of peaks to the west, including imposing Azurite Peak and Mount Ballard.

[pcttrailsidereader]

Attitude and Layers (Part 1)

It is early November and you are just leaving Stehekin with 88 miles remaining to finish your PCT thru-hike.  This is Dances with Lizards and Brr's story as they make the final push north.  Winter is well underway in the high country of Washington's Pasayten.  Dances' journal captures the humor, the spirit, and the attitude necessary to complete the journey in these difficult circumstances.  This is the second of several accounts from late season survivors (see also Ian Sarmento's story posted in early December).

By Natalie 'Dances with Lizards' Fisher

88 miles to go.  We leave Stehekin with our pockets loaded with cinnamon rolls and sticky buns from the bakery that’s been closed since mid October (it’s good to have connections in high places). It’s hard to leave a warm house one more time.  We each have about ten days worth of food.  6 days of good stuff.  4 days of boring stuff.  Lots of layers.  Lots of attitude (Positive Mental Attitude, with a little bit of the other kind).  A whole village is now sending good thoughts our way, as well as the whole PCT community.  We aren’t just two people out for a walk to see what we can do anymore.  We’re being watched.  Bets are being made. People are being inspired.

Never thought we’d actually be the last two striving for the goal.  Running joke this whole season.  The last to Canada wins.

Leaving Stehekin. Brr finally weighed his pack for the first time the whole trip. 80 lbs. Probably always weighed that much.

‘Ready to go for a walk, Dances?’

‘Ready as I’ll ever be.’

We’re walking into a snowstorm, and we know it.  It’s going to be cold, but we want to try to get as far as we can while the hiking is easy.  Of course, with loaded down packs, I only make it a quarter mile before I break down and eat a sticky bun.

As promised, it starts to snow by late afternoon.  We make it partway up and out of the valley, cross creeks that are starting to freeze over, and make camp at a place called Hideaway.

74 miles to go.  Middle of the night. Wake up to a tent that’s too warm.  Realize we’re in a snowcave.  Nothing is venting anymore, and it’s all dripping on Brr’s poor down sleeping bag.  He eventually musters courage to go outside and uses a snowshoe to clear off the tent.  There’s at least 8 inches on the ground.  So much for the promised 3-5 inches.

While all this excitement is happening, I see a cinnamon roll sticking out of my jacket pocket.  We’ve recently had problems with mice, and the only thought in my sleepy head is: I don’t want the mouse to eat my cinnamon roll! Brr jumps back into the tent to find me mawing down on the sticky treat without a care for snow or anything else.

64.5 miles to go.  It’s a slow day to get up to Rainy Pass and beyond.  We make burritos and a hiker mocha at the pass, and consider how easy it would be just to hitch out to Bellingham and be warm.  Instead, we march on.  Past civilization.  On to camp above 6,000 ft and tuck in for another snowy night.

Surprised in the morning to hear voices as we’re packing up camp.  Flatlander and Bouncer arrive on scene.  Snowshoes on, GPS in hand.  Making one more attempt at the goal.

I have to admit there was some trepidation on our part at meeting them.  We had heard that Flatlander was going to try to meet up with us, we were glad he arrived with a hiking partner.

At this point in the game, joining up to hike with someone is no casual contract.  That’s for summer business.  Brr and I have been practicing in this kind of weather for the last month.  We’ve got a system down that works for us.  We know each other’s skills well.  As Brr puts it “She doesn’t freak out. Ever.”  On an expedition like this, the last week out is not the time to meet someone new and try to fit them into your system.  We were happy to say hello.  Short conversation.  Have to move to keep warm.

They continued.  We finished packing and followed their tracks up to the top of Cutthroat Pass (scary name, easy pass), where we sat down to have second breakfast and watched as two figures traversed the ridge and rounded the corner.  Then we watched in surprise as one figure, and then another, were coming speedily back across the ridge.

Huh?  We wondered with mild curiosity as we slowly packed up and continued on our way.  We chatted again as they passed us.  The ridge got steep and the snow was a bit icy around the corner.  Too much for them.  The fun stopped.

I have the utmost respect for Bouncer and Flatlander that they recognized when something was too much.  They knew when to call it.  That is an important skill.  One most people ignore.  I also respect that they didn’t try to turn us around.  In our heads we were wondering if they would be saying ‘these kids can’t make it, it’s dangerous… etc…’  But they didn’t.  They simply said it was too much for them, and wished us well. Thank you.

We continued on.

Traversed the ridge and made the steep descent in a couple feet of snow to Granite Pass.  Then across the next ridge.  The going was slow.  We didn’t have snowshoes on yet.  The snow was at the point where it really wouldn’t be any easier in snowshoes.  We’d posthole one way or another.  The trail following the contour on the ridge had perhaps six inches of snow.  Passable enough.

55 miles to go.  Setting up the tent. Exhausted.  Bummed that we couldn’t make it any further.  At this rate, we might not make our rendezvous.

There’s a crack.  We pause.  Stock still.  Assess the damage.  One of the tent poles broke.  Shattered on one end due to cold.  Nothing to do but wrap it with Tenacious tape, and hope it holds.

48 miles to go.  Get to the top of Glacier Pass.  Another steep ascent just ahead of us.  Time for another hiker mocha as the sun sets.  Bodies are complaining.  Nothing to do but tape what hurts, hope it holds, and don’t look again.  Pep talk to the body.  Come on, just need you to get me thru a few more days.

We begin the next ascent.  Switchbacks across a meadow.  Why couldn’t they put them in the trees?!  Wading across snow drifts at each turn.  Brr gets fed up.  We’re about four switchbacks from the top.  Pull out the GPS to double check our location.  We can just go straight up.  The trail stays on top of the mountain for a while.  We’ll hit it.

Switch to the microspikes.  Glorious microspikes.  Time for some mountain climbing.  Brr pulls out his ice axe, I put my trekking poles in my pack and use his very sturdy hiking sticks.  Up we go.

I climbed up a mountain on a starry night with microspikes and broomsticks.

I didn’t exactly like where I was.  It was icy, extremely steep, the alternative was no easier.  At that point, the only way to get out of a sketchy spot is to move.  One way or another, you have to move.  I chose to move up.

Up the mountain.

It was worth it.

Hit the top.  Absolutely stunning. Make another hot drink.

We are the only people out in this wilderness.  Two small people on top of a snow covered mountain gazing at the stars.  One of those nights where I felt like the stars were watching us.

I get this feeling that Mother Nature has finally decided we are worthy to pass.  That all the gods have us in their favor.  And they are watching.  It won’t be easy.  She will never let us off the hook, but she will let us pass.

All the stars gazing down at us.  Watching our progress as we finally donned our snowshoes and crossed the ridge to Grasshopper Pass and continued to traverse the next ridge.  Our slogan becomes ‘When in doubt, follow kitty.’  We know the right direction to go, can’t see the trail, but there are lynx or bobcat prints that seem to know where the trail goes. We follow.

No matter what else happens, I have this moment.  This moment in time.  This moment on top of a starry snow covered mountaintop.  Everything that has happened before, is worth it. Anything that happens after, doesn’t matter.

I have this.

This one’s for the memory books.

Editor's Note:  Because of the length of Dances and Brr's story, it was broken into two parts.  The remainder of their story will be posted on December 17th.