Two weekends ago, Dad, Justin, Lilu the Schipperke and I took off for four days, three nights of backpacking in the Alpine Lakes/Wenatchee Wilderness areas. It was a great getaway and much needed, even though our Glacier Trip is close on its heels (we're leaving Saturday morning, woo!). It's amazing how relaxing (almost zen) it can be to haul 35 lb packs up steep, overgrown inclines in clouds of bugs and insufferable heat!
We started our trip on Saturday at 2pm from the Whitepine Creek trailhead, just past Steven's Pass. It wasn't too hot, nor was the trail crowded. There were only two other cars in the lot and one belonged to a ranger doing trail work while his wife knitted in the truck cab.
We reached the Whitepine/Wildhorse junction at 2.5 miles in a little over an hour. The Whitepine trail was well maintained for about a mile, and then became increasingly brushy. The bugs were so thick we grabbed blackfly from the air and tossed them into a spider's web. From the junction we followed the Wildhorse trail toward Frosty Pass. The Wildhorse trail was notably more overgrown and less trafficked than the Whitepine trail. It was obvious that there had been some horse and foot traffic, but not enough to really make a dent in the thick brush (much of it Devil's Club) that swallowed the path. The trail can be hard to see in spots because it's so well covered, but it's impossible to lose. We beat our way slowly through the underbrush and up the hillside, gaining another 1500 feet over 2 miles of switchback and side-hill hiking. The most unfortunate aspect of this trail is that most of the bushwhacking takes place here, at low elevations during steep elevation gains, meaning more heat and more work with no rewarding view. It was rather discouraging.
( Keep reading... )
However, after you think it can't get much worse, the trail levels off and crosses the first of three streams with camps beside them. We intended to continue past these and camp near a fourth stream outlet closer to the pass, but the elevation gain had eaten up much of our short day and we were exhausted. The first camp is small, but suitable. The second camp is larger, better maintained, and most scenic. The third, and only camp uphill from the trail, is hidden in the brush, minuscule, and overrun by bugs.
We'd decided to stop at the third camp but overshot it by about a half mile. We then scouted ahead before we decided to go back to the second camp and stay the night. The Forest Service has posted signs between the first and second camp advising that you are crossing above 5,000 feet of elevation and forbidding forest fires. I suppose their word is law, except that according to the topo maps you don't cross 5,000 feet until the beginning of the next set of switchbacks after the third camp. Whoops. We made good use of the well established fire pit and enjoyed the bug-repelling properties of our illicit fire.
I think all of us slept poorly the first night. Lilu decided to be our sentry and growled endlessly at the deer that grazed near camp. I awoke at 8am to see her peering out the high tent window from a perch on top of my sleeping dad, staring straight at me and completely oblivious to the deer ten feet to her left. Not a moment later, two hikers passed our camp on the trail and exchanged "good mornings" with me. It was weird to see them considering that we'd met one person only the previous day, and he had been jogging well before the trail junction. These folks, hiking at twice our rate, would have had to have left the trailhead at 5am. Hardcore.
The second morning was overcast and cool, which made for a perfect day to finish our climb and bushwhack to Frosty Pass. Some of the most overgrown sections of trail are between the camps and the pass, but at least they aren't on an incline. The trail opens up a bit before the pass, and goes through some pretty alpine meadows, but the views are still relatively static and not nearly as exciting as what follows.
At the pass, the bugs vanished and the sky cleared to reveal a mountainous horizon and stunning views of alpine lakes. We ate lunch and took a detour to serene (but mosquitoey) Lake Mary before continuing up the wonderfully beautiful mountainside to Mary's Pass. The terrain above the lake is gorgeous, with many large boulders, cliffs, streams, and alpine meadows that were filled with wildflowers. Unfortunately I lost all my second-day photos between the lake inlet stream and Ladies' Pass/Lake Edna. I'm sure there were some pretty ones.
Atop Mary's Pass, we got our first jaw-dropping glimpse of Grindstone Mountain under a cloudless evening sky with Upper Florence Lake glittering invitingly below. We were tempted, but had decided to camp at Lake Edna, so hiked on, over another unnamed pass, down into the valley beyond, up to Ladies' Pass, over the steep shoulder of Cape Horn and to the lake. Well, we almost got to the lake.
As we hiked, it became progressively more windy. Though Lake Edna had been described as the most beautiful of the "Mormon Lakes," its camps were also notably the most exposed. By the time we reached the lake we were exhausted and wind-battered. Imagine our disappointment to find that it paled in beauty compared to Upper Florence lake two valleys beyond. Feeling we'd been had, we snapped a few pictures (which I later lost) and hiked the tedious mile-and-a-half up-and-down back to more-scenic Upper Florence Lake. (Florence Lake also had the Most Scenic Group Campsite Evar.)
I think this is about when the dog decided she'd had it too. After hiking ahead of and then doubling back to check on her charges for two days, she'd probably clocked twice the distance. Every time we stopped to rest, she'd curl up and sleep, hesitant to move on. When we finally made camp, she wedged herself under a pine tree and didn't come out until dad put her in the tent.
Upper Florence Lake made a beautiful camp. It's still more than a little exposed and was therefore quite windy, but we didn't mind. We crawled into bed around 8pm to shelter from the wind and cold, but despite it, we left off the tent fly to enjoy the sky. The result was that we were woken by the glare of the full moon sometime past midnight and ended up taking a walk without headlamps before sleeping again. In the morning, everything in the tent was covered with a fine layer of dust.
We swam in the lake (which was freezing) when the wind died down, and when the mosquitoes became unbearable, we took a quick hike down the lake outlet to see if we could reach Lower Florence Lake. The dog decided that she'd still had enough and followed us for only a short distance before she sat down and wouldn't budge. Justin carried her for a bit before we gave up on the climb and went back to pack up camp and move for the third night.
We hiked through the breathtaking lake basin back to Mary's Pass, where Justin and Lilu napped, and dad and I scrambled up the nameless 7700-foot summit next to Snowgrass Mt. The day was quite clear, with wonderful air quality. I took some panoramas from various spots on the mountain and we headed back down after a quick stop on the top.
That night, we camped at a site perched above Lake Mary-- the lakeside sites were choked with mosquitos-- and enjoyed a silent, almost wind-free sleep. We didn't see a single person all day. The day previous, we'd seen only the two morning hikers and one other day hiker past Florence Lake. There were none of the fabled "hordes" and "crowds of dreamers" that the guide book had warned of. Rustling through the brush beneath our camp was a 6-point buck, who stopped and looked at us for a few long moments, as if to ask what we were doing.
The next day we hiked all the way out. Thankfully, the dog's vim and vigor had returned after a day of napping. Ours had too, and we definitely needed it for the 10+ mile hike down. We started hiking at 10:45 and reached the car by 4:30, but despite that I wouldn't recommend making the trip down in one day. It was hot, sticky, and buggy. That, combined with downhill knee pain and completely overgrown trail made it an unpleasant trudge. We saw one other person backpacking to Frosty Pass, and two people at the junction of Whitepine Creek and Wildhorse-- a man who looked like Sting and his teenaged son, who was hiking barefoot.
Baffling.
Anyhow, that wraps up the trip. It was overall quite lovely, though I definitely enjoyed the high-country more than the long haul into it. I wish I'd had a helicopter to air-drop me on Frosty Pass so I could have spent more time up there. This trip didn't really compare to the 4-day trip we took in the Glacier Peak Wilderness Area 3 summers ago (off limits this summer due to storm damage), but I think everything will fall a bit short of that one. Except maybe backpacking in GNP-- but I'll have to report on that later.
Posted on August 09, 2007 @ 3:44 PM | 4 comments
Comments:
Hey, I was wondering what type of protective gear you use for your camera when you are hiking? I just have a standard square bulky padded Nikon one strap camera bag for mine, and it is definately NOT suited for camping and hiking. I'm going to the Bruce Peninsula next week, and just thought that I should try to find something for my camera before I go. Any suggestions?
By 
sometrouble, at
8:43 PM, August 10, 2007
Hey Emi,
I use two simple methods of protection that keep my camera completely accessible. First, I have a hood on the lens that protects it from dings and bumps direct to the glass/filters. Standard Canon, pretty cheap (like this). The second thing I use is an extra camera strap (sort of like the one that goes around your neck but simpler) that I fasten to the original strap near the camera body.
One side I fasten on with the original metal clip, the other with a small carabiner. This means that I can hike (and even climb) with the camera around my neck because the strap prevents it from swinging. It doesn't bump repeatedly against my stomach or swing into rocks. And if it does bump into something, the lens hood keeps it protected.
Because I have a carabiner on one end of the second strap, I can quick-release the camera from the setup and raise it to my eye for a shot. Or I can shoot from the hip if I feel confident. I don't have to worry about taking it from a bag.
I created this setup because I couldnt find a camera bag that wasn't bulky or hard to get into. I wanted something I could carry on my front that allowed for quick access, and none of the front-carrying camera bags fit me, or they were just awkward. I've used this for several seasons of hiking (even climbing in Glacier) with no ill effect except a few scratches to the lens hood. Originally I had one extra method of protection that I deemed unnecessary-- I put a neoprene lens case over my lens and secured it in place when I was climbing. It didn't seem necessary so I haven't used it since.
The lens case and the strap I both found in a bargain bin for less than $5. The lens hood is relatively affordable. So basically when I wear this setup, it just looks like I have my camera on my neck, except that I have an extra strap around my waist. Make sense? I will try to post a picture after I get back from Glacier. :)
By Kat, at
10:24 PM, August 10, 2007
It should be noted that with the camera out in the open all the time it has accumulated some dust buildup. At least with Canon, the non-L lenses (and non-1Ds bodies) aren't environmentally sealed. If you focus with the lens you can tell that over the last several years some dust has worked its way into the pivots. While it hasn't made its way into the optics the setup that Kat uses shouldn't remotely be considered environmental protection...just bump, bang, fall, etc protection.
By Justin, at
10:50 PM, August 10, 2007
Thanks Kat and Justin! That is great advice. I already have hoods for both my lenses, and I can probably find a suitable strap pretty easily in the next two days. That is a much better solution than being pressured into buying a camera bag on short notice that I'm not sure I want. Have a great time in Glacier! I am really looking forward to seeing it when you get married! :o)
By sometrouble, at
10:14 AM, August 11, 2007
