Snoqualmie Mountain

Posted on November 22, 2014 by evejakubowski

This one was a pain (albeit a beautiful pain). It took me two days! What the hell, Snoqualmie! I first went on Sunday, 11/16. I even had someone cover the first half of my shift at work so I could sneak in a hike, thinking if I didn’t have to be in Seattle until 11:30 I’d have plenty of time to get out into the mountains. Unfortunately, I had to turn around before reaching the top, so naturally I went back the next day to make it all the way.

Distance: 6 miles round trip (~3.5 hours)
Elevation: 3100ft gain (6200ft highest point)
Weather: 30’s and sunny
Commute from Seattle: 50 minutes
Did I Trip: ~~…I don’t think so, shockingly~~ Yep I did

I crack myself up

The trailhead is about 50 ft to the right of the Snow Lake trail. I’ve hiked Snow Lake before (pre-blogging era) and never noticed this path, probably because it’s unmarked and goes straight up. Honestly, it felt more like a stair workout or climb than a hike. Relentless uphill, no flat stretches, no switchbacks, no nothing. Lots of ice near the bottom in shady stretches, which was tough to navigate, and tons of boulders and branches to step over. There is a junction to Guye Peak (a scramble) about a mile in – I was told it was “several hundred feet in” and kept thinking I must have missed it, but I finally found it after about half an hour of hiking.

Frozen waterfall along the trail

Views take a while to open up, but there was a neat frozen waterfall along the way. It was one of the few distractions from the burning in my legs. One hiker said he saw a pheasant somewhere near the bottom of the trail. I must have missed it, which is too bad because I don’t think I’ve ever seen a pheasant aside from running around a farm. Anyway, crossing this frozen creek was one of the few flat parts of the hike, and after this, it continues straight up. Clambering over roots and rocks again. Eventually you break out above the trees, which is where the views finally become real (as opposed to glimpses) and the snow starts.

Ridiculous views. Looking out past Guye Peak

There were only a few inches of snow, and most of it was pretty packed down by the time I got there. We had a streak of such sunny clear cold days. I didn’t take out the microspikes until I fell (ha, let me go edit the “did I trip” section) and slid a few feet and figured maybe traction would be a good thing to have. I sat on a rock, figured out how to get the spikes on, and admired the view of Guye Peak (front and center) for a few minutes before continuing on.

This was the first time I had used microspikes, and they were great. A little crunchy on the rocks (parts of the trail were clear) but very helpful in the snow. I was following another pair of tracks that turned from a boot pattern to something I hadn’t seen since climbing Rainier – crampons! Someone ahead of me was using crampons. Okay, first of all it was 10am on a Monday, who could possibly be climbing? And second, why the hell were they using crampons? Should I be using crampons? Am I inadequately prepared? No, there’s barely any snow, microspikes are definitely better. I continued on, to the spot I had turned around at the day before.

Mt. Adams

Here’s a very zoomed-in picture of Mt. Adams! That’s right, it was a four-volcano-day. Adams, Rainier, Baker, and Glacier, all visible from one point. Incredibly clear. Don’t worry, I have a picture of Rainier, too, looking out behind a cairn. Here you go.

Mt. Rainier

Glacier is in the background of the fake-falling photo up at the top of this post. I somehow think I managed to miss Baker in every single picture I took, which is unfortunate. I ran into a hiker at the top who knew almost every peak around us, which was incredible. I’ve got to get maps and just sit there and study. There’s a great peak finder app for smartphones as well, if you’re interested – the camera on my phone has never worked, so unfortunately it is useless on my droid. Essentially you use the camera to look at the peaks, and the app will identify the outline and tell you which peaks are on the horizon. Every range is unique enough for it to be pretty accurate, which is cool.

There was a summit register on top of Snoqualmie Mountain. One of the recent signatures was someone who had just completed their third round (I think) of chemo. Incredible. And there I was, whining about the steepness. Seriously, that’s just amazing. Anyway, views were completely worth it, and I’m glad I decided to go back and retry the summit. As it turned out, I had been like 5 minutes away when I turned around the day before… if only I had known.

View looking west

The return trip was tedious. I love trails with snow, I just think the fresh white coverings are so beautiful, but once you’re past the snow, it’s just dirt and rocks and trees and ice. Straight downhill, lots of footwork and some wear and tear on the knees. Luckily I kept pace with the hiker I had met at the top, and having company made a big difference. I had been miserable hiking down on Sunday. It felt like the trail never ended. But on Monday, it was quicker (could be a side effect of now being familiar with it as well), and more painless. The microspikes were especially helpful going downhill, and I’m thrilled I bought them. Pricey, but worth it.

Definitely check this hike out if you only have a few hours and it’s a clear day. Topping out at 6200ft, it’s the highest point in the Snoqualmie region, and you can see so many popular peaks in the area. Even i90 didn’t bother me, which is unusual. I bet it’ll be even more beautiful with a bit more snow.

Park Butte

Posted on November 18, 2014 by evejakubowski

I know I haven’t updated in a while, but I hiked this last Wednesday, 11/12/2014. From the desert of Utah to the freezing snow of the Cascades!

Distance: 7.5 miles round trip
Elevation: 2200ft gain (5450 highest point)
Weather: high 20’s and sunny
Commute from Seattle: 2:30
Did I Trip: Yes.. slipped on ice

Beginning of the hike, Baker peeking out

Beginning of the hike – is that really Baker?!

So I consider this my first real snow hike. Silver Peak a few weeks ago was fresh snow, nothing compacted, nothing icy since it was the first snow of the season. Park Butte started out on a dirt trail that was already half covered in ice once you reached the forest, and it was freezing. I didn’t have a puffy layer yet, but at least I had microspikes and poles. I wanted to test out my new boots though ($5 at the REI garage sale, score!) so I left the microspikes in my bag until I needed them. I hadn’t used my own poles yet either, so those were put through some trials as well.

It is Baker!

There were a few other cars in the parking lot, so I figured there had to be some hikers ahead of me. Park Butte is pretty popular, even on a weekday. I didn’t run into anyone until about halfway up the hike in the meadow. Once you break out of the forest, you’re in a meadow (or a snow field at this time of year) with Baker smack dab in front of you. I almost didn’t believe it was Baker at first since it was so close. Anyway, one of the first hikers I ran into briefly convinced me that there were cougar prints (dog prints) since he was such a good tracker. He was pointing out fresh tracks and who he thought had made them and I was standing there just happy I could recognize fresh prints. Looking at Baker from the meadow felt like you could just walk up to it, it was so close and blended in with the snow.

Just rescue copter things

There was a navy(?) helicopter doing rescue drills for several hours! On one hand, that meant it was noisy, but on the other, it was pretty cool watching it hover, people rappelling down, climbing back up, and whatever they were doing. Sometimes it disappeared to the other side of Baker, but you could still hear it. When I first saw it, someone was dropping down on a rope, and I thought they were making a legitimate rescue. Turned out it was just drills, but still neat to watch. Just a helicopter doing copter things.

The lookout!

Another thing once you’re at the meadow: you catch a glimpse of the lookout for the first time. Don’t worry, it’s still a mile or so away. So don’t get too excited, because you still have to hike quite a bit to get there. But the views get better and better as you go.

Trail heading back with Glacier Peak in the background

Here’s the trail (this is on the way back down techically, unless you turn around on your way up) heading along a slope with Glacier Peak in the background. Baker might be the star of this hike, but there are plenty of other peaks to check out as well. Panoramas don’t do it justice because Baker is massive and makes everything else look tiny.

Lookout selfie

When I was a few minutes from the lookout, three hikers were on their way down bundled up in puffy jackets. Why!? I was overheated climbing up there, how could they possibly need the puffy layer? Well, when I stepped onto the deck of the lookout, I got it. Blasts of wind in my face. God dammit, I couldn’t feel my fingers after a minute. But I knew I had to suffer through taking a few photos, so I sucked it up and snapped some shots, including the selfie to the right. You know what’s stupid? I didn’t go in the lookout. I repeat: I did not go into the lookout. Why? I don’t have a good reason. I regretted it ten minutes later when I left.

Neat light in the valley

Looking west from the lookout, it’s hard to believe there’s a huge mountain behind you. Just a valley with neat shadows and mostly green trees, and some smaller peaks. This side was out of the wind, thank god. On the way back down I ran into the guy who was good at tracking, who asked if I had passed three hikers. He hadn’t seen them yet, but he had seen their tracks! I could never tell if there were three versus two or four. We saw them a few minutes later. They had hiked off to the side of the trail to get some views (or use the bathroom, who knows).

Frozen sap

After maybe an hour of hiking, I realized I was freezing. Fingers, mostly, but I was chilled. That’s frozen pine sap on the right. Ice also freezes into really cool grass-like crystals, which I had never seen before.

Frost crystals

Turns out they’re all over every frozen trail here, so nothing too exciting. I’m still wondering how they form. Besides the neat ice, the hike back down was boring and tedious, and I was eager to get back to the car. Oh, and like usual, I had forgotten to put out my parking pass. And not only that, but I had passed a ranger on the way up as well. I almost asked him what the fine was for not putting it up. So I started to hurry, which meant lots of slipping on the ice patches. But I didn’t want to take the ten minutes to put on microspikes, so I kept on moving. Finally got back to the parking lot after only three and a half hours of hiking, which was surprising. But I haven’t had a shower feel that good in a long time.

Woo!

Edit: You can see Shuksan! I think it’s the tiny peak jutting out just over the right ridge of Baker in the following picture:

You can juuust barely make out the tip of Shuksan

Moab Trail Marathon (and Arches National Park)

Posted on November 12, 2014 by evejakubowski

Aaand here we go! It’s going to be a long post guys, get ready. I’ll start us off with a pic of my beautiful-mile-16-just-climbed-1500-ft face at the highest point of the course. Race day was 11/8/2014.

Distance: 26.2 miles
Elevation: ~3500 gain (topo map)
Weather: 60’s and sunny
Commute from Seattle: ha!
Did I Trip: No, but I kicked a rock into my ankle which sucked

I don’t even know where to begin with this. It was my first marathon last year, and of course I had to come back this year for round two. I was dying the beginning, with swollen calves and a foot that decided to fall asleep for a few miles. I’m blaming the sand. But the scenery is just amazing the whole way through. A few of the trees were bright yellow, which I don’t remember from last year. But I don’t remember much from last year besides pain and misery. Being my first marathon, I was way too focused on time, whether I could finish, etc to just enjoy the scenery. This year was the opposite. Expecting to be severely undertrained, I was only there to have fun.

This was the best arch along the way. There were a few windows that might be arches someday, but this one I remembered from last year, and regretted not getting a picture. I refused to take pictures last year, and ended up regretting it, so this year I made sure I took plenty.

Along with arches and windows and cliffs were enormous canyons. The one to the left is actually one that we ended up running through after descending down the wall at a (slightly) less steep grade than what you see.

Unfortunately, it was still steep enough that it turned into a bottleneck, and runners were backed up for over 30 minutes waiting for people to hop down the rocks. One of the few drawbacks of single track running. If anyone is hesitant, it affects the entire line behind them. It was cold, I was bored, muscles tightened up. Oh and this was just after I hit myself with a rock, so my ankle was bleeding and quite painful and getting stiffer every minute. Also I’m very impatient. What was there to do to kill time? I ate and took pictures. Pictures of the people standing in line, and also this cool little cave formation below.

After we finally got through the scramble (I should have taken a picture, it’s really not that bad) we loosened up a bit, and the half marathon split off from the full marathon. They headed back towards the finish, and we headed farther out into the desert.

Soon there was an out-and-back, about two miles total, maybe not even. I remember hating it last year. It felt like it never ended, and you had to duck under trees, rocks, brambles, running through sand, bleh.

This year I was much more excited, and since I wished I had taken a pic of this rock last year, I knew I had to snag one this year. So below is my father and another runner about to duck under a massive rock. Last year some people went around it, but it’s a trail marathon, come on. Might as well go through.

After the out-and-back and some running down a gravel road (a relief from sand and footwork) comes the hard part. My own personal hell. At least until I climbed Rainier. Now Dissapointment Cleaver is my personal hell. Aptly named, right? But until then, it was miles 14-16 of this marathon. Straight up, gaining around 1500ft of altitude in just over a mile. When I ran it last year, I had been training in Chicago. The flatlands. I drove for an hour and a half to find a hill, and the hill probably only gained 30 feet in elevation. This was the neverending mid-marathon climb. I was ready to curl up and be helicoptered home last year. Maybe it’s the hiking, maybe it was the change in attitude, but this year, it was a million times better. More like a stroll in the park. Okay, not a park, but still. It went by much more quickly, and before I knew it, we were at the top. It’s the pic at the top of this post – me by that rock overlooking a huge ass canyon.

Anyway, after climbing what was basically a cliff wall, we were headed back into the desert. The marathon gets very spread out since there are so few runners. Only 400 participants last year, I think 700 this year since it was the national trail marathon championship race. So here’s me, all alone, with no one in front of me. But at least the trail was easy to follow here.

Here’s another fun part, squeezing between two walls. I took this from above, but you’re about ten feet down in that crevice. I had to turn sideways to fit through, so you can’t exactly run through it. It’s the real-desert-canyon feel. 127 hours, no thanks.

Don’t worry, the fun stuff just keeps coming. I’m not sure how people ran this – the flat part you can see is just a few inches wide, so you have to either have really good footwork or jog/walk along it making sure you’re putting one foot in front of the other. The slope keeps going down, so if you trip with a little too much momentum, you won’t be too happy when/if you stop tumbling. But again, it wouldn’t be a trail marathon without stuff like this.

Okay, there were some normal (ish) parts too. Like to the left, a picture of a runner coming up some slickrock, which was what miles 19-22ish were. With Colorado snow-capped peaks in the background. The mountain bikers were having a great time, but most of the runners around me were dying. Whatever. I was too happy. Poor guys, I kept passing them, stopping to take pictures, passing them again, etc. I’m obnoxious. In the beginning of the race, everyone was taking pictures! Either the touristy runners were all half marathoners, or the distance folks like myself were too exhausted to stop and take photos.

Also, what the hell is the tree doing? It used to be alive. How long ago did it die? There were branches everywhere on the ground that made me wonder where the hell they came from. Looked like driftwood. Maybe they’re from old trees that died and got rearranged in floods.

And another break along a gravel road! Jeez, finally. Slickrock is tough to run along since it’s up and down every few feet. And hey, this road still had great views. “Gravel” is a little generous, I think the road was intended only for those extreme 4×4 jeeps. But I knew this meant we were headed towards the finish.

Unfortunately, this race makes you run past the finish line at mile 23, and head back out into the desert. Ugh. You get so close, hear all the cheering and bells and announcements and celebrations, only to keep running back into the distance, away from the sounds.

Oh did I mention it’s an obstacle course? Yeah, the last three miles are an obstacle course. I unfortunately didn’t take pictures of the obstacles that were the craziest. Like using a rope to kind of rappel up a wall. See, if you stop to take a pic of that, then everyone behind you gets backed up and has to wait (one at a time on the rope, guys) so I couldn’t risk it.

I did get a picture of the mouth of a cave we ran through. It was pitch black inside, which was tricky because you couldn’t see any of the rocks on the ground. Luckily there weren’t many. We also had to climb a ladder, run through a drainage pipe, cross a river, crawl under a road through a smaller drainage pipe (my glutes weren’t too happy about that), rappel down the other side of the cliff/rock/plateau we climbed, and.. did I miss anything? Well it might not technically be an obstacle, but mile 24.5-25 is basically up a sand dune. God. Damn. Dunes. I hate them.

Coming out of the smaller drainage pipe onto a flat field, I knew we were headed back to the finish line. Between the sun, the brilliantly yellow trees, and the flat ground, I was ecstatic. The guy in this pic was less than pleased, as were almost everyone I passed between miles 18 and 26. Except me. Must have been the coca cola I had at mile 23. Or the cheez-its I grabbed at every rest stop. I ran with hands full of cheez-its for a solid few minutes after every aid station. Anyway, you get the point. I felt great.

Unfortunately, a few feet from the finish line, I got lost. I know, I know, so close. But you overlap with the runners who are heading back out for the last 3 miles, and I could see the FINISH banner. I thought I had missed the final turn to go to the finish line, so I turned around and ran back until I realized we were coming across the finish line from the opposite direction, which meant I had to run a little further than I thought. Also, we were in a ditch-like path about 15 feet below the finish line, so I had to scramble up a quite steep (but mini) sand dune. Fortunately someone told me to turn left, because I just didn’t have the energy to lift my head and look at where the trail went. I stumbled onto the flat ground, and ran across the finish line to a very determined announcer trying to figure out how to pronounce my last name. He tried three or four times, was quiet for a minute, and then questioned himself one last time. “Eve…. Jabokowski! Jackooookobowski! Jakoobooski!” [silence] “Jabuski?” He got close, but never quite there. Didn’t matter, finished a marathon.

I grabbed my finisher mug, chugged powerade, took off my shoes, and we headed back to our hotel. Which we chose specifically for the hot tub. Hot tubs after marathons are the best hot tubs. Except I was totally dehydrated, the vending machine was broken, the sinks had non-potable water (too heavy), and all I wanted was an instantaneous glass of water. But that was the only issue. And the steak dinner was mediocre. But I got lots of andes mints for dessert, so I can’t complain. Also, my Saucony Peregrines survived! They’re my favorite trail running shoes. Last year this race destroyed them. Shredded the upper, ripped part of the outsole from the midsole, stiffened up both shoes when I crossed the river, ugh. But the new model held up pretty well, and I’ll get to use them for another few months.

And what did we do the next morning? Hike, duh. No worries about the marathon. Well it wasn’t even really a hike, more like a walk since it was barely 2 miles and pretty flat and full of tourists. But you know what? Sometimes it’s nice to just walk slowly and take pictures. And that’s exactly what we did.

Arches National Park is pretty small, and I bet if we had time, we could have seen most of it in just a day or two. But we stopped by the ranger station to ask for recommendations, and they gave us this one, which was supposed to be the biggest “bang for your buck.” They were right. Something like five arches and three windows? Six if you count the double arch? The photo to the right isn’t a double arch, it just happens to be two arches viewed through a third arch because I’m awesome.

We spent a little over an hour exploring and climbing all of the arches we could. There’s one out there that you can actually run across. As in run up the top of an arch. I didn’t know that until yesterday, though, so we missed out on that. You know what’s not awesome? Waiting for someone who’s texting from beneath an arch. He spent a solid ten minutes texting. Look where we are! Text later!

Last but not least, the double arch! If you look really closely, I’m standing in the middle of it on top of a rock. That’s how unbelievably massive it is. It was humbling to stand right below it. We almost didn’t go to that one, but I saw the trailhead right near ours and we had a few extra minutes (it was something like .5 miles round trip) so we figured we could check it out.

All in all, it was an incredible weekend. 10/10, will repeat next year. Even as we were leaving, it was already established that we’d be coming back in 2015. Except we’ll be better prepared for the marathon. Oh, I’ll still take pictures. I’ll be the lone tourist marathoner, no problem. I already can’t wait. Oh, and also? I met the guy who finished 7th overall when I was waiting for my flight. I asked the question that had been burning since last year: does he run the 1500ft climb over that mile in the middle? The answer? Yes. Holy. Shit.

Blanca Lake

Posted on November 10, 2014 by evejakubowski

Okay, pictures of this lake have been all over the internet the past few weeks, and of course when I choose to hike it, the “partly sunny” forecast turns into “heavy, intensely thick fog.” Still beautiful, but I’m definitely going back on a sunny day.

Distance: 7.5 miles round trip (but took us about 5 hours between lots of breaks and a shoe casualty)
Elevation: 3300ft gain
Weather: FOG
Commute from Seattle: 2 hours
Did I Trip: My hiking buddy did! Ha! (hi Pattra)

Steep, but not too steep. I hiked this one with my roommate Pattra, promising a beautiful turquoise lake after a sunny, moderate hike that wouldn’t be as hard as what we did on our road trip this past summer. Okay, so that was partially a lie. I expected sun and turquoise lake, but the hike was just as steep as the toughest one we did back in July. Which I didn’t mention until the way back down. Despite the latest trip report saying it was snowy, we just took our running shoes (I brought my trusty goretex wildhorses again) since we knew snow along i90 had melted, and the elevation of Blanca was lower than most of those peaks. What we failed to consider was that melting snow and rain means water, and water means mud!

Starting out, it was mostly dry. Steep right from the beginning, but there were lots of neat mushrooms to distract us from the incline. Seriously, I must have like 20 pictures of mushrooms from this hike. I’m one of those obnoxious(?) hikers who just goes fast and doesn’t pay much attention to anything besides views, so it was refreshing having a day to slow down a bit and someone to point out all of the cool things that I usually go right past.

We got some brief glances of the sun straining to come through the fog, and I had faith that it would clear up by the time we reached the top. There were a few points where it looked like there could be good views, but you couldn’t even see as far as the ridge next to you, just a wall of white. But the combo of sun and fog made for some cool forest pictures along the way since you could see all of the rays streaming through the trees. Here’s my roommate testing out my new Black Diamond poles that I got after Silver Peak. Yes, they’re skiing poles, but you can use ski poles for trekking (just not the other way around) and they’re obviously better for snowshoeing and the like, which I’m definitely planning on trying.

Once you get up to the ridge, it briefly flattens out just before dropping another 600ft in .6 miles down to the lake. We ran into a hiker who turned around because she didn’t get to the lake soon enough and was worried that she was on the wrong trail since it was going downhill. Anyway, this flat part is were is where it starts getting muddy. Unbelievably muddy. Nothing unreasonable at first, just your average oversaturated marshy sections of trail.

Reflection in Virgin Lake

Virgin lake is the first lake you see, and thank god we knew it wasn’t Blanca lake! We were warned by a few hikers on their way down to keep going past it. Virgin lake is more of a puddle than a lake, but it was so still that the reflections were very crisp. In fact, partly due to the fog, I didn’t even know it was there until I noticed that I was looking at upside-down trees (not pictured) and realized it had to be a reflection.

Skirting to the right of Virgin Lake, the mud continues, so be careful and hopefully you brought waterproof shoes. Just past it, there was a huge mud pit that I got through okay, but I heard a gasp and turned around to see Pattra balancing elegantly on a wet log shouting “MY SHOE!” with her sock-clad foot in the air. I asked if she accidentally kicked it off the trail, and she said no, it was stuck in the mud. But it had disappeared. Nowhere to be seen. Devoured by the muddy abyss. She started poking around with the trekking poles, I threw on my snow gloves and grabbed a stick and started digging.

How deep could it sink? This was the quicksand of mud. What if it was already like three feet down there and we’d never reach it? There were three options. Best case scenario a) we find the shoe. If not, I had extra socks, so she could either b) wear three socks and the spare ace bandage on her foot on the way down, or c) hang out there while I ran back to the car, grabbed the hiking boots, and came back up, which would be a long wait. Luckily, after 15 minutes of digging around, I found the shoe about 8 inches deep, full of mud. Yuck. We poured it out, took out the sock liner, and wiped off as much as we could with the ace bandage. Plus, at this point we were so close to the lake we figured it would be silly to turn around. So we continued! Pattra’s a trooper. Who needs dry feet anyway when you have good synthetic socks and shoes.?

Luckily the rest of the hike went pretty smoothly, besides a few minor slips. When we came around the corner to the lake (which was like 10 minutes post-mud-pit), the turquoise color was astounding. Due to the clouds we couldn’t see ridges, peaks, or the Columbia Glacier, which I had been desperately hoping to see. That’s the glacier that gives Blanca Lake its unworldly color that makes it so popular. But we still dropped down to the shore line to see what it was like, take a break, and have a beef jerky snack.

After about ten minutes, the clouds dropped even lower, to about maybe ten feet above the lake. We couldn’t see the other side any more, and it was a little chilly, so we decided it was time to get moving. When we were back at the spot that the above picture was taken, all we could see was white! On the way back down, we had a few glimpses of blue sky and sun, but none that looked big enough to mean the lake was sunny.

Reading other trip reports, I realized that the lake is usually not this full, and most of the driftwood is usually dry. There are campgrounds across a log jam that was completely flooded by a running stream, and I suppose you could get there if you’re tough enough to lose the shoes and pants and wade through some frigid waters (aka not me on that day). Even more of a reason to come back on a sunny day!

Pratt Lake Basin

Posted on November 6, 2014 by evejakubowski

Finally, an honest-to-goodness trail run! Many of my hikes have been too steep or slippery to run, but Pratt Lake was almost entirely runnable. Which is good, because if it wasn’t, I’d probably have turned back out of misery.

Distance: 11 miles round trip
Elevation: 2300ft gain
Weather: 40’s and rainy (and windy!)
Commute from Seattle: 45 minutes
Did I Trip: Ugh. Awkwardly stumbled and twisted my ankle. See below for details.

Probably due to the weather, it was kind of a miserable hike. The type you do because you know you’ll be glad when you’re done with it. I had been sitting in my apartment for the past four days (okay, I went to work some of those days but the wanderlust was kicking in) so I figured I’d go anyway. Plus, it was a lake, so it couldn’t be that bad right? Lakes are pretty in crappy weather. Starting off it wasn’t that bad. The trail was in good shape, drained very efficiently so no muddy patches or swampy areas or rivers coming down the trail, and the mist was pretty cool at some points. I can definitely see why trail runners like this one, since the path is a wide, soft dirt path without many roots or rocks to navigate. There were a couple pretty waterfalls coming towards the trail as well.

There were a couple bridges that were a little slippery, but that was it until the trail splits and gives you the option of continuing to lake Talapus (.2 miles away) or Pratt Lake, another 3 miles away. After that junction, it got progressively worse. There were more muddy patches and more sections of the trail covered by small rivers. Two miles past that, along a ridge, there was another junction, this time with the left path heading to Island Lake and the right continuing on to Pratt. After this junction, the trail became nearly unrunnable. You lose a bunch of altitude heading down to Pratt Lake and the trail is steep, lots of big rocks and roots, crossing talus fields, and eventually winding its way though the basin, where everything was a swamp. The talus fields are pretty exposed – the wta description says bring sunscreen, I say bring a damn hat and gloves and windproof jacket. At this point, you can see the lake, so there’s no point in turning around. You skirt the slope above the lake for a while (runnable, thank god) and eventually drop down to the basin.

This is where my misery kicked in. It was pouring rain, windy, cold, my gloves were soaked through, and I was six miles from the trailhead. And the lake was just a lake. No amazingly clear glacial water, no turquoise color, just a blue lake. I’m spoiled. Ugh. So I snapped just a few pictures to document it, turned around, and ran back. For a brief moment I had contemplated going to Island Lake, but after reaching Pratt, hell no. I was cold, impatient, and it wasn’t as much “yay running!” as it was a “just let me teleport to my car/apartment/shower/hawaii” type of run.

I made it back in good time, with only one situation: my shoe came untied. Great. I tied it, and with my first step back on the trail (not even running) I twisted my ankle. Stepped weirdly on a rock I guess, I don’t even know. All I know is it hurt. But I was two miles from the trailhead and not about to walk through the pouring rain, so I kept running. The pain faded until I got home, which is when it decided to come back twice as bad. Luckily it only lasted a few days. To be fair I’ve been laying off it lately, so we’ll see this weekend how much better it actually is. When I got back to the trailhead, there were four other cars, but I hadn’t seen anyone besides one person. The rest must have gone up to Granite Mountain, which is a steep (1000ft/mile ish) hike with great views that shares a parking area with the Pratt Lake trail. Well, great views on a sunny day. Not sure they saw anything this time around.

As much as I disliked this run, it’s probably a pretty cool summer backpacking trip if you’re into lakes. From this trail you can also reach Lakes Talapus and Ollalie, Island Lake, Rainbow Lake, Melakwa Lake, and Lake Tuscohatchie. In the summer, on sunny days, it’d be pretty nice to hit all those lakes and go for a couple swims. So I’ll give it a chance to redeem itself in a few months.

Silver Peak

Posted on November 2, 2014 by evejakubowski

Ladies and gentlemen, it has snowed in the Cascades! I can’t rave enough about this hike. My first hike in snow (okay, besides summiting Rainier), and damn was it incredible.

Distance: Listed as 5.6, I definitely went off trail and probably did about 7 miles
Elevation: 2100ft gain
Weather: 50’s and SUNNY
Commute from Seattle: Just under an hour
Did I Trip: The planets aligned and no, somehow I did not

Seriously, this was incredible. For a hike that could have been an absolute disaster, I completely lucked out. For starters, the road was brutal. I’ve been pushing the limits of my poor Accord, and this was one of the worst I’ve been on. Nevermind potholes, there are just sections with rocks sticking up everywhere where the dirt has been washed away. But we made it without bottoming out, so it couldn’t have been that bad.

Upon reaching the trailhead, I realized I had no idea which direction was south, and I had forgotten my compass. You start out on the PCT, which heads north and south. The sun was too low, there was snow everywhere, you can’t see i90 from the trailhead, and I’m new here so still relatively unfamiliar with pass names. I took an educated guess and headed away from Snoqualmie Pass (there was a sign pointing towards it). I was correct. So for any other idiots out there, take the trail that heads left as you reach the trailhead from the road.

Starting out, there were patches of snow on the ground, so I took my heavy winter gloves with me just in case. I had goretex trail running shoes, no gaiters, no traction, no poles, no compass, I was a mess. I hadn’t expected snow. Anyway, the PCT was mostly a combination of mud and ice at first. Eventually that turned into a slight dusting of snow. The turn off to Silver Peak (and Tinkham Peak, which I was originally planning to do as well) is about 1.7 miles in, marked by a cairn on the opposite side of a trail. The PCT section is pretty flat, but as soon as you head off towards the peaks, it starts to climb. What was originally ice and mud became two inches of snow, then three.

Luckily, there was a perfect, recent trail of fresh footprints heading towards the saddle between Tinkham and Silver. Stupidity runs in my veins, so I thought okay, I’ll keep going until either a) these footprints stop or turn around, or b) I can imagine someone telling me how unprepared and stupid I’m being. But it was beautiful outside, so I threw on my heavy gloves, scouted out a sturdy walking stick in place of ski poles and carried on.

Once you reach the ridge/saddle, the path splits in two. Left goes to Tinkham Peak, right goes to Silver. And look at that, the prints were going to the right. The footprints definitely left the original trail, which was completely covered in snow. At points I realized I was following them over low bushes and through clusters of conifers, but the views of Rainier were amazing, seeing snow on the trees was refreshing, and I had already committed to following the path left by my fellow hikers, so I had to trust them. From the saddle I looked right and could see their path zig zagging up the slope to Silver, so I knew I’d get there eventually. Couldn’t turn back then!

Hiking up the slope I finally ran into the hikers who set the path. There were three, and I thanked them for leaving a path since I wouldn’t have made it that far without them. I probably looked ridiculous standing there with my walking stick and Nike shoes. The Nikes (wildhorse GTX, for those who are curious) get some snap judgements from fellow hikers, but come on, they’re goretex with trail lugs so they aren’t all that bad. But in shin deep snow… you win, they aren’t ideal. I asked the hikers if they had left such a perfect trail to the top, and they said yes! Great! Up I went.

The top was breathtaking. I was originally bummed to be doing Silver Peak because I thought the pictures looked mediocre, i90 is right there, it’s not that high (the list goes on) but when everything is covered in snow yet the sun is shining, it’s beyond words. I was well dressed in terms of layers, and spent some time taking pictures at the top. I forgot to take a falling-off-the-mountain selfie. Seriously, this was the perfect opportunity. God. Dammit.

I had to leave my trusty walking stick a few dozen feet below the summit, because it turned into a bit of a scramble. I’m sure when there’s no snow it’s easy to walk up, but with all the snow and ice I felt better using my hands. But I don’t think I’ve ever been so happy in snow. There was a great view of Annette Lake down below, which I hiked a few weeks ago. I bet it looks better with snow capped peaks in the background. Also, I need to stop taking crooked pictures. I know it’s a fatal flaw with a point-and-shoot, but I mean, I can try a little harder. I get too excited to focus unless I have lots of time to hang out looking for good pictures.

As usual, it killed me to leave. But I had taken so long getting up there, I had to get back down in time for work. Tinkham was clearly not an option since I took so long, and I didn’t know if I’d have such a beautiful boot trail to follow to the top of Tinkham like I did for Silver. Plus, on my way back down, I finally got snow in my Nikes (I’m amazed it took that long). I followed the same boot path back even though I knew it wasn’t the fastest way. Since it had warmed up, the snow was melting off the trees, and with the sun shining so brightly and reflecting off the droplets, it looked like it was raining gold. Of course no picture will capture that, but I at least got one of the sun shining through some snowy trees. When I picture “winter wonderland,” it’s gray, cloudy snow with jingle bells and Santa, but this hike redefined it for me. This was a winter wonderland. Time to get some snowshoes and ski poles so I can chase it all over the Cascades on the few sunny days we’ll have between now and May.

Back on the PCT, I ran into some even less prepared day hikers. Some had boots which puts them a step above me, but they weren’t expecting snow either. No poles, no extra layers, and one kid was in regular trail running shoes that weren’t even waterproof. I wonder if they made it. I told them to be ready for snow and that there was a great boot path they could follow to the top, but with everything melting, feet would get cold and wet pretty quickly. I like to think they made it though. All I know is I’m going back next time it snows to try and bag Tinkham, except I’ll be more prepared. Can’t rely on having such beautiful footprints to follow every time I go snow hiking. Someday I’m going to have to be the one to blaze the trail.

Lake Serene/Bridal Veil Falls

Posted on October 30, 2014 by evejakubowski

It had to happen eventually. Lake Serene is a hugely popular hike out here, which is probably why I avoided it for so long. I’m more of a remote hike type apparently, which was surprising to learn given that I work retail and generally love people. Maybe it’s the break that adds to the experience, who knows. Anyway, here we go. Lake Serene, hiked 10/25/2014.

Distance: 8.2 miles if you take the side trail to the falls as well
Elevation: 2000ft gain
Weather: 50’s and rainy
Commute from Seattle: 1 hour
Did I trip: Hell no. Get at me.

I had been in my apartment for too long, and decided to go on a rainy day hike up to Serene, which was supposed to be great even on overcast days. Since it was lousy weather and pretty late in the season, the hike was relatively empty, and I only ran into five or so other hiking parties. Here’s my favorite picture of the lake. Nice and clear and turquoise.

Such clear water

Not Bridal Veil Falls, but still cool

The first part of the trail is a wide, pretty flat gravel path for about a mile. Not too exciting, but hey, there’s a destination to look forward to. You’ll pass this neat little waterfall pictured on the left, which isn’t the big falls, but I thought the rocks were too cool to pass up. At 1.7 miles, the trail splits to either Bridal Veil Falls (another half mile) or Lake Serene, which is another 2.9 miles. Honestly, do the falls first. I (and another hiker) both did it second, and agreed that while it was totally worth it, we almost didn’t do it since when you’re so close to the end it’s tempting to head straight back to the cars especially on a rainy day. Seriously, it’s such a quick side trip, just do it!

After the junction that leads to the falls, the trail to Serene starts to get serious. At first it’s just dirt with a few glimpses of views. I was lucky enough to see a rainbow! I yelled to the group behind me but I don’t think they were as excited as I was. Sorry guys, that was like my fifth rainbow in two days which is just ridiculous.

Rainbow!

Anyway, the trail is very well taken care of, and most of the steep parts have been converted into stairs, so it’s more of a stair workout than a hike. But if you haven’t been doing much vertical, it might be a bit of a thigh burner. I met a mother hiking with her son and their dog who wasn’t sure how far she had gone, and she was exhausted. She asked how far we were from the lake, and I figured we couldn’t be more than half a mile, which she wasn’t too happy to hear. Half a mile of stairs in the rain is a long half mile. Turned out, we were like 5 minute away! I ran into them on my way back down (I spent longer at the lake than they did) and was glad to hear they made it.

Stairs everywhere

After all of the stairs and steep parts, you pop out onto a talus slope (kind of) and the lake is right around the corner. Definitely go to the look out rock, which is a big sloping rock that I imagine people picnic on when it’s not raining. The rock has far better views than anything else I saw. There were a couple ice caves on the other side of the lake, one of which I saw collapse! Damn! I know they’re cool to go in but make sure they’re stable first!

You can barely see it, but ice caves in the background

It started to rain shortly after I got to the lake, so I turned around to head back down. This is where I started losing the motivation to check out the waterfall, but so many hikers on the way down told me it would be worth it.

Mediocre picture of Bridal Veil Falls (didn’t want the camera to get wet!)

I chose this moment to realize I hadn’t put my parking pass up on my dashboard ([resulting in a string of expletives]), and could be returning to a hefty fine when I got back to the car. Race against time and hope I beat the park rangers, or assume I already blew it and go to the falls? I chose the latter, and like I said, totally worth it. It’s an extra 15 minutes to see an awesome waterfall, which soaked me more than the rain did. You’re already there, it would be silly to not go. I swear it’s far more impressive than the picture makes it look. I couldn’t find an angle where the camera could capture all of it and not get absolutely drenched.

Overall, pretty good rainy day hike, and definitely a hike I’d recommend for families. Maybe runnable on a more dry day. The first two miles or so were runnable, but the stairs were a little slippery, and I’m clumsy. As a parting picture, here’s an awesome log precariously balanced over the trail. I should have stood next to it for scale, because it’s easily three or four feet in diameter, which you can’t tell by looking at the picture.

Falling log!

Oh, one thing I forgot to add. Someone had left a “missed connection” note on the trailhead sign. A romantic letter to the “ginger he thought about for hours” signed with his name and number. Wonder if she ever saw it. Worth a try I guess? Or maybe he’s just getting texts from random people who saw the note. Ha.

Yellow Aster Butte

Posted on October 28, 2014 by evejakubowski

Look guys, I have friends! First blog post centered around a hike that actually involves other people. I’m way overdue (this was hiked 10/18/2014, over a week ago) but since I didn’t hike much last week I didn’t want to use up all of my content in two days.

Distance: 7.5 miles round trip
Elevation: 2550ft gain
Weather: 50’s and mostly cloudy, effing freezing at the top
Commute from Seattle: 2 and a half hours
Did I Trip: No. Maybe uphill once.

Shuksan over Picture Lake

So I thought we’d be driving out Saturday, hiking out to a campsite, and camping somewhere beautiful, but I was wrong. We didn’t arrive until after dark, so we set up camp in a lovely parking lot (Bagley Lakes/Chain Lakes trailhead) next to an outhouse. How luxurious. We were near Picture Lake and had a great view of Shuksan at least, so that was nice. And we could make a bonfire without concern, which we did to cook dinner. The next morning, I woke up to the entire side of the tent glowing pink, and assuming there was a beautiful sunrise, I leapt out of my sleeping bag and ran out of the tent to see Shuksan lighting up in the sun. But classic northwest, it was just a weird hold in the clouds that lasted about 45 seconds before being covered up again. Shuksan was still looking majestic, but I have yet to see its peak.

Huckleberries!

It was another half hour or so to the Yellow Aster trailhead, which had the worst outhouse I have ever seen. You could smell it from 50 feet away. Hold your breath past that, and the rest of the hike is gorgeous. It starts switchbacking up the meadow, then the woods, and as soon as you pop out of the woods, huckleberries everywhere! The biggest, sweetest juiciest huckleberries I have ever had in my life. I was surprised they were still there in October. The trail was open to hunting (we did meet a few hunters) but I saw nothing even resembling wildlife, and apparently the bears are missing out on the berries.

Views of Shuksan were beautiful, even if we couldn’t see the peak through the clouds. Fall foliage was still everywhere, despite it being late October, and we lucked out because apparently the end of the road is already closed because of snow. From the top you could see Mt. Baker as well, and I imagine the views are insane on a clear day. The trail was well maintained, no tricky crossings or anything like that, and not too steep until the very end. The first summit is a false summit, and you have to hike down a bit and along a ridge to get to the real summit, which unfortunately my friends weren’t too keen on pursuing. One was wearing a t shirt and jeans (I don’t know how he wasn’t freezing), and it was freezing cold at the top with wind around 30mph (gusts up to 40mph) according to a few trip reports. I had on four jackets, one of which was windproof, thank god. Next time, when I go on a clear day, we’ll be getting across to the real summit.

Sun and berries

On the way back down, we had some patchy sun and more berries! I do think most of the trail would be runnable if you don’t mind heights and ridge lines, because it was pretty gradual and scenic besides that last push to the top.I’m actually not sure where we would have camped. I wasn’t looking very hard, but there weren’t any obvious sites, and we would have had to find somewhere out of the biting wind. There’s a lake on the other side of a pass that you can reach from the same trailhead, so that might have made for a good campsite and extra hike. I didn’t get as many pictures as I wanted to (friends are distracting, who knew) but at least I’ve got the most important pieces, which are berries and views.

Mt. Shuksan got all of my attention (sorry Baker) because I’m dying to climb it next summer. I don’t know why it appeals to me over Baker. It’s pretty short (only 9131ft) but is supposed to be incredibly scenic. Looking back, I didn’t even get Baker in a panorama. It wasn’t as visible as Shuksan either, but again, on a clear day… I bet it’s amazing. Anyway, the sun came out for brief periods of time, but those damn blue patches never centered over Shuksan or Baker. Next time!

Panorama from the false summit (Shuksan on the right, Baker off to the right outside the frame)

Gothic Basin

Posted on October 24, 2014 by evejakubowski

Recommended to me for its fall foliage by one of my customers after I hiked Ingalls, I had to get this one out of the way before the snow hit (which happened yesterday!). I hadn’t been up to the Mountain Loop Highway since hiking Pilchuk with a few friends, so it was nice to get some fresh new views.Hiked 10/16/2014. The fall foliage was past its peak, and I was totally spoiled by the larches at Ingalls, but this was still beautiful. I’m slowly learning that I’m the peak-bagger type. Basins are nice, lakes are nice, but I really just want to be at the highest point possible.

Distance: 9 miles (including the old road I think, or I could be a damn fast hiker)
Elevation: 2840ft gain
Weather: Sunny! 50’s, probably low 40’s at the top and bottom by the time I got down
Commute from Seattle: 1:45, unless you get stuck in the parking lot that is I5 during rush hour
Did I Trip: No, but to be fair I went down some rocks on my butt

Even from the road, you get pretty good views of the Monte Cristo peaks. That pic is from higher up the trail, but the sneak peak on the road just whets your appetite for views. Someone had written “trail run!” in the registry towards the beginning of the trail and I got all excited to run it, but the last few miles are un runnable. If they ran this… damn. Lots of muddy patches, rivers running down the trail, slick rocks to scramble over, obstacles on the trail, things like that. I’m impressed if they were serious.

You actually have to park on the side of the highway, near the Barlow Pass trailhead, and hike about a mile down an old road (blocked off by a sign covered in bullet holes) to reach the old trailhead. I’m impatient, so I ran that part plus everything to Sauk River, which is about half a mile past the toilet at the old trailhead. Crossing Sauk River was an experience. I couldn’t figure out a good way to rock/log hop, but being a Polack I took off my shoes and socks, rolled up my pants, and waded across. From there, it starts gaining elevation steadily. Oh, did I mention that October is apparently orb spider season? Yeah. Eeuuuuugh. Bastards made webs all over the trails. As one hiker put it, if you aren’t careful, you’ll wear them like jewelery. I should add that yes, I ran the first mile and a half, but I did so while waving a long stick ahead of me to destroy their sticky ass webs before they reached my face.

There are plenty of waterfalls along the way to distract you, some tougher to cross than others. I got absolutely soaked at one, but hey, I was committed. Bring waterproof shoes! I have never been so thankful for my goretex Wildhorses. When I first got seeded for them last year I was unimpressed, but they’ve been beyond useful out here. Turns out Chicago just doesn’t have the right terrain to use them. The mud, the streams running down the trail, everything was soaking wet. It’s nice knowing you can submerge your foot and not suffer from it afterwards. Speaking of which, I need a fresh pair. They’re looking pretty nasty right about now. Still waterproof after a year of use, though!

Coming into the basin was a surprise. I thought I was still another mile or so away since I wasn’t sure whether the trail’s distance included the old road or not. The basin was still covered in green, with huge rock outcroppings and small lakes (more like ponds) everywhere. Social trails leading everywhere. I have no idea if I found foggy lake or another lake before it or what since there were so many. I would have loved to scramble up to the ridge behind the basin, but it’s a class 2 scramble with a section that’s class 4 due to a washout(?) right now, not to mention I was alone and had to figure out just how stupid I wanted to be. So I stuck with the lower levels of the basin.

Here’s a pic of what I think is Foggy Lake. Small lake, surrounded by rocks and small plants. What’s crazy is that most of this basin is covered in snow all the way into late July. I was looking at pictures on wta.org and it looks like a completely different place. I’ll have to try it again next spring/early summer when I’ve got a little more avy experience.

Views were great, there were four snow capped peaks that I noticed. The only one I know for sure is the Monte Cristo bunch. There were two more to the left, one of which was mostly shrouded in clouds. Someone told me the one to the far left might be Sloan, but I don’t think so. No one I asked knew for sure. There was another one to the far right that you could only see if you were high up in the basin, so I imagine views from that ridge I couldn’t get to are amazing on a clear day.

The best self-timer pic I could get. Monte Cristos to the right, cloud-shrouded peak just to my left. I’ve got a few panoramas as well, but I never really like how they turn out, so you’re stuck with normal pictures. For once I had around half an hour to explore the basin in order to be back down by sunset. I hopped around some rocks, took some pics, found two ladies walking a dog, explored some old snow fields, and looked for lakes. I was way above the two ladies, and followed their voices to get down from where I was. So basically, they were having a great time with their dog, and I was following them from a distance like a creepy mountain goat. The were the ones who called me out for wearing trail running shoes. To be fair, my shoes were Nikes so they look very unimpressive and not technical at all, but at least they were waterproof trail runners. Anyway, they were the ones who inspired me to grab a pair of real hiking boots, which I did yesterday at REI’s garage sale. For $5. As in “five dollars.” Even if it turns out they’re flawed, they were five dollars.

Who made that cairn? That’s a sweet cairn with a sweet view. I tried building my own elsewhere in the basin but it didn’t work out as well. There might be some level of actual artistic talent involved. I’ll work on it. Anyway, the trail was a knee destroyer on the way down. Big steps, navigating those slippery rocks, decent amount of elevation lost in a short way down. When I got back to the Sauk River, I had caught up to another hiker, who had found a way across without wading. Guess I didn’t try hard enough the first time. But I followed his example (hands and feet across some logs and rocks) and it was easy enough. From there, it was just a matter of jogging through the surprisingly cold air back to my car. Glad to be back on flat ground for once. My knees weren’t prepared to deal with a full week of hiking.

In other news, it looks like rainy season has begun. The Olympics are covered in snow (I can see them from my apartment building) and word on the street is that Mt. Baker is supposed to get several feet of snow this weekend with snow levels dropping to around 4500ft. Mt. Baker actually holds the world record for most snow in one season, 95 feet exactly in the winter of 1998-1999. So it looks like any hikes that get even remotely high are about to have snow. I’ve got the goretex hiking boots, now I need some snowshoes and a good mountain winter education.

One last pic. Cute little stream coming out of a rock. Like a natural water fountain. No idea how that type of thing forms or how common it is, all I know is I’ve never seen one before. Maybe in a year when I’m more seasoned I’ll look back and laugh at some of the things I was excited about on my first few hikes.

Melakwa Lake

Posted on October 21, 2014 by evejakubowski

Looking over the lake

This was the ideal cloudy day hike. Since I’m spoiled by amazing views already (I’ve only been out here for two months, seriously) I have trouble getting motivated on days with mediocre weather. I can’t even call it lousy weather because temperatures were normal and it wasn’t raining! I left the apartment convinced I would do Mirror Lake, which is like 2 miles round trip. Unfortunately I spent half an hour doing awkward U-turns on crappy rutted gravel roads, completely incapable of finding Mirror Lake. While it was sunny. What a waste of sunny hours. I’ll be back though, after asking around I know exactly where I went wrong. The WTA claims the last half mile of the road is suitable only for high clearance vehicles, but it didn’t look like it was suitable for any vehicle. So overgrown I wasn’t even sure if it was a trail for hikers or an abandoned logging road leading to nowhere.

Anyway, I left the alleged road to Mirror Lake in sheer defeat, swearing to myself I’d hike Melakwa (back up plan) because I didn’t drive two hours (if you include my stupid mountain loops) just to turn around and drive home. Luckily, Melakwa was one of the easiest trailheads to find since it’s just past a big campground.

Distance: 8.5 miles round trip
Elevation: 2500ft gain
Weather: 50’s and cloudy
Commute from Seattle: just over an hour
Did I Trip: Nope

The trail starts off along Denny Creek. It crosses underneath I-90 (yes you read that right, you hike beneath a highway) about a half mile in, which was bizarre but you start between the two directions of I-90 so I suppose you had to cross at some point. About a mile in you cross Denny Creek, which is coming down slick rocks and creating a waterslide. Apparently you can actually slide down it when it’s warm out. I didn’t test it, but it looked like little kids would have a blast playing around it. That first mile of the trail is very well taken care of, probably because it’s so popular.

Waterfall along the trail

The last bits of fall foliage were still hanging out on the way up. I passed a couple nice waterfalls as well. The first mile of the trail was runnable, but eventually you come to some boulder fields, and while there’s still a path, the footwork was a little tricky for me. Not too steep though, and you get a decent view of the valley you’re hiking through the farther you go.

Lingering fall foliage

Since it was cloudy, I’m sure the views were not at their best, but you could still see some of the lesser peaks.

I passed another hiker on the way up, who was the only person I saw. No cars in the parking lot, so I was pretty surprised. I told him I was planning another hike but when the weather wasn’t cooperating I chose Melakwa, and he had the same issue. But he reassured me it was the perfect cloudy/rainy day hike, and damn, he was completely right. Once I got to the lake, it was completely worth it. I’m very goal oriented, I seem to need an actual destination. I can’t just hike though woods and enjoy it without something to attain.

Foliage

First, some more fall foliage. Then we’ll talk lake. The trail wasn’t half bad – as soon as it was out of the forest, I had fields, boulders, and views. And the knowledge that I had a goal to obtain:e lake. And I had to make it to the lake within a certain time or else I’d be hiking back in the dark, so I had to be quick. Once you reach the top of hte pass, you lose about a hundred feet in altitude to get down to Melakwa, which I didn’t expect. Coming around a bend in the trail, I saw a lake down below (WAY down below) and thought damn, that’s gotta be another mile or two. Luckiy it was another lake (something starting with an H) and not Melakwa! Melakwa was on the other side of the pass, hidden from the trail.

Damn, Melakwa, you pretty

Melakwa was beautifully clear, another turquoise alpine lake. Man, now I’m even getting spoiled with lakes. The other hiker was totally right, it was a great cloudy day hike, because the color still stood out, and with some fall colors along the bank for contrast, it was a great destination. What I didn’t realize is that there are actually two lakes! This is the lower lake. I didn’t make it to the upper lake, since I didn’t know it existed. There’s also a pass to a ridge behind them that you can climb easily (so they say), so next time I go back, I’ll have to make it up to the ridge. The views are probably wonderful. And it’ll look even better if those peaks in the back are capped in snow.

The only downside to this hike was the hike back. I’ve never been a fan of the return hike, but obviously it’s a necessity. Since I can’t paraglide back to the trailhead like these guys did from Mt. Everest. The closest I’ve ever been was glissading down Mt. Rainier (between Camp Muir and Paradise Inn) on my way down from the summit. That was way more exciting than the hike back from Melakwa. I was totally bored. Bored out of my mind. Usually I can occupy myself with my thoughts or the trail or the views, but none of the above were working. Luckily it wasn’t too long of a hike, and I was back to the trail head quickly, and I beat sunset, which was most important. Anyway, would definitely recommend this as a cloudy/rainy day hike. It won’t disappoint. Today I tried to go on a rainy day hike that didn’t have lakes or waterfalls or views, and it was… let’s just say I’m not even going to blog about it. Stick with the lakes for rainy days, or even views if you know you’ll be back someday.

One more!

Have Tent, Will Travel

Trail running, mountaineering, and the occasional wipeout

Author Archives: evejakubowski