#methow pass

[pcttrailsidereader]

Larch Madness

Howard Shapiro

The title above may not accurately describe what the North Cascades are showing off at the moment but it is something close to that. In ‘madness’ there is elation, grandeur, beyond comprehension reality, and all of that is present right now. Last weekend I ventured back to Cutthroat Pass after not having visited there in a long time. My wife and I along with two other friends spent two nights in what felt like some of the best the North Cascades have to offer. The views are stunning, the weather was cooly near perfect, and the landscape was showing off for all to see. I hesitate to highlight this area too much as it is getting ‘loved to death’ like so many other of the prime spots found all along the PCT. Sadly but rightly, the time will likely come when this area will require special permitting to gain access. 

For now, if you have the chance, is the prime time to see the coming of fall in this corner of the North Cascades. The Larch are doing their annual switch from blending in with the other conifers to stepping out and saying, “ Hey, I am different, look at me!”. They are pretty hard to miss in their yellow seasonal dress. In fact the whole landscape is a technicolor, Kodachrome, artist’s palette, moment in nature. Here are a few pictures from around Cutthroat Pass and heading north along the PCT toward Methow Pass. 

Golden Horn guards the way to Methow Pass and Canada not too far beyond.

[pcttrailsidereader]

Tyson Fisher is responsible for one of my favorite PCT photos of all time.  He captured the wonderful color of fall in the North Cascades.

In 2003, Tyson set out to thru-hike and photograph the PCT. He started in Southern California and made it as far as Glacier Peak in northern Washington before a foot injury forced an early exit. Although disappointed, he knew he would be back - he just didn’t realize it would take 10 years to return. You can view his complete, wonderful portfolio at www.tysonfisher.com

Here are two other images of Tyson’s . . . to whet your appetite for more:

Crater Lake

Methow Pass, North Cascades

[pcttrailsidereader]

The PCT in the north is empty now.  The building snow absorbs any noise that the wind may make and the long dark nights reinforce the penetrating cold and wet.  It will be months before hikers return to the Pasayten.

Tyson Fisher has captured some of the moods of the Pasayten. Although the top photo, Methow Pass (6600’), and the second photo (below), Rock Pass (6491’), are beautiful scenes, you can imagine wearing all of your clothes and still being cold in the damp air and piercing wind. Take it a step further and imagine desperately scanning this hostile landscape for a sheltered camping spot as the sun wanes and temperature begins to drop further.

I’m glad to be home in my warm and pleasant bed for the winter.

[pcttrailsidereader]

Just Do It

I have posted updates from Manny before and thought that it would be fitting to report on his completion of the trail. Manny was propelled by the mantra, "Don't let your dreams be dreams. Yesterday you said tomorrow, so just do it!" His arrival at the Canadian border at the end of October, puts him among the last (if not the last, as he surmises) of the NOBO thru-hikers to finish this year.

You can follow Manny’s continuing adventures at www.notwaitingtolive.com

Manny near the beginning and at the end of his journey

When I reached the U.S. border of Canada on Monday October 24, I had been walking for six months. The walk that started at the U.S. border of Mexico (April 24) was so vast an experience I cannot even recount the major events in a continuous stream of memory.

If you're familiar with the Pacific Crest Trail you'll notice that I did not finish at the official trail monument. Instead I finished at the US/Canada border 15 miles east of the monument, 32 trail miles north of the nearest US road. After Methow Pass, at PCT Mile 2606.9, I took an alternate route to reduce my distance above the heavy snow line by about 20 miles. In the end I walked just over that PCT magic number of trail miles to the border (2,650). The detour at the very end was made with my ultimate goal and ultimate safety in mind.

I believe I was the last continuous set of footsteps to reach Canada. The last two weeks of bad weather emptied the trail, encouraging the hikers ahead and behind me to either quit, skip ahead to the border via any means possible, or take an alternate route below the snow line.

Faced with a choice to finish, I approached the final miles to the Canadian border the same way I approached the initial miles to the Mexican border, "Just do it!"

This journey was made possible by countless Americans who either indirectly or directly helped me along the way. For those that plan, negotiate, and maintain the Pacific Crest Trail I express the same gratitude as for those that picked up this bearded white guy with a big bag along side this country's roads, and the same for those who provided me food and shelter.

Sincerely I hope that someday, someone, will read about my take on this adventure and be inspired to just do it, whatever "it" is to them.

Before reaching San Diego to head off to the Pacific Crest Trail, I drove the Ford Escape I purchased after graduating from college (with money I earned) on one last epic road trip. Even though this car had leather seats, 18" rims, and less than 60,000 miles on the engine, I came to the realization this (delightful) vehicle was not helping me reach my personal goals. Every penny I got in exchange for this vehicle was spent on the pursuit of the Pacific Crest Trail. As someone with limited resources, typical of the average American, I'm sharing this with you, not to condemn consumerism or luxury, but as an example of letting go for a purpose. If your resources are limited, take an inventory of your assets and liabilities. Relate them to your goals. And be brutally honest with yourself about what is bringing you closer to your own goals, and what is simply a luxury that may or may not be limiting your potential to reach your own goals. Almost all of us have the ability to answer this question for ourselves, "How is this specifically bringing me quantifiably closer to my own goal?"

What are you waiting for?

Stay tuned. The next adventure starts within a week.

[pcttrailsidereader]

Summer on the PCT north of Rainy Pass can be very brief.  The long, dry summers in the Sierra are very different from that experience in the North Cascades.  It is easy for hikers who have crested the high passes of the Sierra to underestimate the much lower passes in Washington and the severe weather that can last for days any month of the year.

Once again, Tyson Fisher has captured some of the moods of the Pasayten. Although the top photo, Methow Pass (6600'), and the second photo, Rock Pass (6491'), are beautiful scenes, you can imagine wearing all of your clothes and still being cold in the damp air and penetrating wind. Take it a step further and imagine desperately scanning this hostile landscape for a sheltered camping spot as the sun wanes and temperature begins to drop further.

Now return to the comforts of your armchair and appreciate that you are viewing this on your computer.

[pcttrailsidereader]

Early August in the Pasayten

Looking up the Methow (before the storm)

Unlike summer in the Sierra and much of the Cascades, the weather in the North Cascades is notoriously unreliable.  Even early August there is little guarantee that you won't experience rain, hail, and/or snow.  Just ask Willow Payne. 

By Willow Payne

I was in my Hexamid Solo Plus tent at 6600 ft on top of Methow Pass during the horrendous thunder and lightning storm of August 10 . . . a storm that ultimately closed Highway 20 and temporarily trapped more than 50 in the Cascade Pass area.  It started around 6 or 7 pm I'm guessing.  The first round, if you could call it that, brought thumbnail size hail.  It pummeled my tent, hitting the ground so hard it splashed water inside getting me, my down bag and everything soaked.  It moved on just long enough for me to contemplate leaving, then the next round started.  Relentless thunder and lightning and then the rain....I could hear it flowing past me all around me and under me.  So incredible.  I did not sleep all night, it was just so loud and so close.  I spent the entire night praying for my life.  

At 4 am, still dark, I bolted out of my tent ran for my stashed pack and bear vault.  Ripped my tent down in seconds, crammed everything in my pack and started for the trail.  Even with my headlamp, I couldn't see anything through the dense fog, I wondered around about ten minutes looking for the trail.  When I finally found it I hiked faster than I'd ever hiked in my life to the bottom where there were four other tents set up.  I stopped long enough to make a cup of coffee, eat some jerky, and made the 11 miles back to my car in less than three hours.  Luckily I have friends in Twisp, so I did not have to make the long drive back to Camano Island until the next day.  

Willow Payne