Thursday night around 10pm I get a message from Alejandro. “I don’t know what you’re doing this weekend but you should probably cancel it and come do Seven Fingered Jack with me and Stephen.” Uh… actually… hold my beer, gonna I cancel my plans. Jk I didn’t have any plans, for once. See you tomorrow afternoon! I hadn’t done SFJ or Maude before, and it was an area I had wanted to go to for ages! I just never tried to rally people to go because I assumed everyone I knew had already done them, so I’d wait for an opportunity to do them solo, except I lack motivation for solo trips more often than not. I like company, and now I’d have GREAT company. Alejandro and Stephen might be two of the funniest people I know, and their sarcasm and wit is just perfect for enduro-suffering sports like backpacking, scrambling, and mountaineering.

• Distance: I don’t know. 5mi approach, maybe 3mi for both peaks.
• Elevation gain: Saturday was ~6k, Friday was.. something less than that
• Weather: 60’s and sunny
• Commute from Seattle: Well it was SUPPOSED to be 3hrs
• Did I Trip: No but both my climbing partners did

The crux of the trip was the drive. It took almost 6 hours to get from Seattle to the trailhead, despite leaving at 12:30. Midday. To beat traffic. Highway 2 had multiple accidents that had shut down both directions of travel. Alejandro, Stephen, and I texted sporadically when we passed bits of cell service. Alejandro left around noon. I left around 12:30. Stephen… well he left West Seattle Island at a reasonable time, got lost in the Bellevue REI for an unreasonable time, and then went through a space time warp while we wondered if we should order him a milkshake at the 59er diner or not. “By the way Eve, you should probably just do Maude while we sleep.” “I figured.” My circadian rhythms are offset from Alejandro and Stephen’s by like 6 hours. I’m in bed at 9pm. I wake up at 5am. One time Stephen replied to a message at like 8:30am on a Saturday and I wondered if I should be worried.

Quick side note: The 59er Diner, before I forget, is totally worth a stop. The diner burned down in a fire in 2016 and reopened in I think 2018 with the same old vibe they used to have. Great milkshakes, good burgers, don’t get the onion rings though they taste more like pancakes than onion rings. Curly fries were also great but I have yet to face a bad curly fry.

Stephen made it in time for a milkshake, and we drove the final 70ish minutes to the trailhead. Stephen immediately bashed his head on the trunk door, drawing blood. Good start. We started hiking around 6:30 or 7, and I was hoping to be at camp by dark. It should have been an easy approach, 3mi on flat trail and then about 2mi on steep “unmaintained” trail to Leroy Basin where we’d spend the night. We loaded up on bug spray, and the first 3mi of trail were SO nice, especially after the brush bashes I had had the past few weekends. I hadn’t seen Alejandro and Stephen in months and was so stoked to catch up. “Oh, Eve” Stephen said. “Alejandro and I were thinking you should just climb Maude tomorrow morning while we sleep.” I laughed. We had independently all reached the same conclusion. Sounds good to me.

The chatter dried up around the turnoff to Leroy Basin. “Unmaintained” is a stretch, because there has definitely been vigilante maintenance. But vigilante maintenance can’t clear the huge tree that fell whose root ball ripped up the path below it, or widen the trail where it’s overgrown with stiff tree branches. But at least there was a trail, which was an improvement over the freaking Bird Creek Bushwhack. But I swear you think you’re about to crest a knoll and get views and no, the trail goes left into the trees. Another knoll to crest, almost there, and no, the trail goes left into the trees. And again, and again.

“Turns out mountain biking is not the only exercise you need” Stephen lamented after a year of swearing mountain biking is the only exercise you need. “It flattens out ahead” I told Stephen, by which I meant “caltopo doesn’t have it shaded so it’s at least less than… 27 degrees.” Yeah we never found flat. Until we were at the campsite. “That trail is penance for whatever you did in your past life.” Some dummies were camping with a bonfire next to us but don’t worry they didn’t burn the forest down. Alejandro was still nowhere to be seen, and it was officially dark. Our campsite was right next to the trail, so we figured he’d walk up eventually. Soon enough we saw his headlamp. He dropped his pack on the ground. “Those campsites down low… those campsites were like sexy sirens on rocks.”

I went to bed and Alejandro and Stephen crossed the entirety of Leroy Basin on a 30min one way trip to get freshly flowing water from the opposite side of the meadow rather than the stream like 200ft up the trail from us. Only the finest, freshest, cleanest of water for them. I went to sleep, had weird anxiety dreams about sleeping over a hole and trying to cover the hole with dental floss to hold up my torso (idk), and woke up at 4:30 to go for Maude. And hit snooze. Like 6 times. I finally got moving around 6am.

The trail traverses up and east for seemingly forever. The larches are underwhelming, I was relieved I hadn’t saved this for larch season. You finally get above treeline into sparse wildflowers and sandy choss, and up to a saddle south of Maude where you head almost directly north through slopes of snow or talus depending on the season. The snow was icy, spikes would have been nice, but I didn’t bring any so… step carefully. Icy Lakes looked GORGEOUS. Really want to camp there someday. South Spectacle Butte looked far more imposing than I had ever imagined. There are so many more peaks to be bagged in this area (and larches!). And I saw more small wildlife than I had seen all summer!

The final stretch to the summit was brutally windy and freezing cold despite being mid August. I was driven only by stubbornness and a flock of small birds flying in circles tweeting around me like Snow White except grouchier. To add disappointment to discomfort, there was no register on the summit, so I ate my PB&J sandwich and quickly turned around wearing every layer I had. I made quick time back to the saddle where a chipmunk threw pebbles at me and I was happy to duck out of the wind, thanks to the ridge in the way. I was back at camp around 9:30, and ready to go 15min later. Alejandro and Stephen were still having breakfast. “We thought you’d want like, a break, or something.” I was mostly basing my timing around highway 2 traffic. I either needed to be back on i5 by 1pm, or not until 8pm. So.. ok, I’ll aim for 8pm. Let me know when you’re ready.

We started up to Seven Fingered Jack around 10:30. It looks very cool from Leroy Basin. The trail is an obvious, well traveled left turn off the trail that heads towards Maude. You quickly gain elevation into an upper basin, this one chock full of larches. THIS is where you want to come in larch season. There were some campsites tucked away on a larchy knoll to our left, teasing me for a return a decade from now. We schlepped up grassy slopes to the left, then ascended a loose rocky talus field to a short little gully on the right that took us up through a break in the ridge system where there were some hints of a trail. The trail was more like heather steps, which we followed up to a second basin, with bits of pumice,* lingering snow patches, and a crazy neat mushroom boulder.

From the rocky basin, you take a talus fan up to your left that traverses below some sheer rock walls. Put on a helmet, this is where it gets loose. And stays loose. All the way to the top. It was a neverending slope of talus. Part of me is still up there side slipping around wobbly rocks. But the views just got better and better. Alejandro turned around after getting sick of the loose shit at the top of that narrow talus fan. I couldn’t blame him at all, and it didn’t get better from there. From there it’s a long time sidehilling on talus or kitty litter on sloped rock. Stephen and I continued, choosing our own paths up through the rocks. He went high in search of 3rd-4th class scrambling on more secure rocks, I stayed low taking my changes surfing uphill on scree. I occasionally turned around to see him poke his head above the rocks and then disappear again. We finally curved to the right again to gain “a ridge” (not a ridge, despite what the topo map says) and made it up the final (also extremely loose) gulley to the summit, where we texted sappy things to our SOs back in town and I crushed a second PB&J sandwich. Fortunately we both had downloaded GPX tracks, because I swear every gully looked the same to me on the way down and I would have been in for a lot of trial and error without them.

I was losing my mind going down the endless talus again. I am sure Stephen was too. At once point he said “I’m playing that game of -” [my brain autofilled the rest: “gambling whether a rock will hold my weight or not”] but his thought was cut short by the sound of falling talus and crumbling rocks and I turned around to see Stephen tumble head over toe, a literal full somersault like something out of a cartoon. My brain froze, paused at the first step of the “do I panic” flow chart. His fall concluded and he jumped up right away. I shouted something like “Stephen! Holy shit! All in one piece? Sit down and take inventory” though he had already found a place to sit and was almost doing the Atlas Thinking pose. We waited a few minutes for adrenaline to subside. “Ok, scratch here, deeper scratch there, got a band aid for this one… man, my elbow hurts.” “How bad? How’s your range of motion?” “Motion is okay and.. well I’ve broken it twice before so I think I’d know if it was broken.”

Context: Months prior, our friend broke his ankle on a mountain bike ride, only for Stephen to announce and everyone to agree “yeah you’d totally know if it was broken.” To be fair, I did a brief patient assessment and also didn’t find any signs of a break, but my mistake was not firmly palping the ankle bone itself! Fast forward 48hrs, our friend’s ankle was definitely broken, and I’ll never miss a cracked ankle bone again because the shame of missing it still hasn’t subsided.

So, in response, I laughed. Of course that’s your answer. But hopefully you’re right. We got moving again. “This is my trip for scrapes” he sighed. “Starting at the car.”

We made decent time getting back down to Alejandro back at camp. Stephen insisted on hiking down climber’s left, meaning I couldn’t get a dope photo of him in his bright orange shirt among the greenery. We watched the wildfire by Lake Wenatchee grow in size, or at least the cloud it was creating became huge throughout the day. Stephen and Alejandro were spending Saturday night at camp too, while I was headed out, but I took another break back at the tents before leaving. No rush now that I had to wait out the Stevens Pass traffic thanks to that stupid traffic light everyone knows sucks.

I was jealous they had another day there and also sad to leave such hilarious company behind. The slog back to the car was going to feel long. The Leroy Basin trail went by quickly, but the 3mi of flat trail.. oh boy. I swear I had been hiking the flat section only for 2+ hours when I decided that it had somehow extended to 7 miles. Or I had died on SFJ and this was purgatory, forever hiking a forest trail that looks the same for ever and ever. Time warped in my brain. Was this a contest with the universe? Was I in some simulation loop and the only way to break out of it would be to check the map and that would snap things back to reality? Or was checking the map considered defeat, my poor human psyche collapsing under the weight of infinite flat redundant hiking? I was determined not to check. Maybe those thoughts broke the spiral, I don’t know. I finally saw a landmark near the beginning of the trail and knew I was close. I broke out of the trees into the parking lot at 6:15pm, less than 2hrs from when I left camp. The time warp was entirely in my brain.

A few miles down the dirt road, I came across a very out of place character standing on the side of the forest road waving me down. Soaking wet. Small day pack. Top hat in hand. Uhh, okay. Situations that ran through my mind:

1. Ghost. Because who is dripping wet out here? It doesn’t add up. It’s a sunny beautiful dry day. Maybe you aren’t real.

2. Scam. You’ve all heard those horror stories about people who pretend to be dead in the road or like they need to hitchhike somewhere and then their buddies emerge from the trees to do whatever terrible things to you

3. Hitchhiker from another trailhead?? But the only loop that could conceivably connect my trailhead with the next one down the road is absurdly long and why is he soaking wet?!

I rolled down my window and said something extremely not smooth, like “…what are you doing here?” Poor guy was still in good spirits and calm and collected. “Well i got lost, but I knew there was a road here, so I just aimed for this. How far is the Little Giant Pass trailhead from here? Is this the right direction?” “You got lost…from Little Giant Pass? How long ago?” “yeah.. well, what time is it?” “7pm almost” “Then about 4 hours ago, but not entirely sure, I dropped my phone in the river. And my map.” “Well, hop in, happy to give you a lift to the trailhead, save you 20min of walking.” “No don’t worry about it, I’m soaking wet.”

This guy had been bushwhacking down from the Little Giant Pass trail, forded the freaking river at the bottom of the valley, and then shwacked back up the opposite hillside to find the road. I do that shit voluntarily and it sucks, I can’t imagine it being involuntary. “Does this car look like it was built for luxury? It’ll survive some water. Plus it sounds like you have a good story.” I dropped him at his car a few minutes later, only to be passed on the highway by him an hour later because I drive like a grandma.

Now what do I need to do to get more last minute invites on Stephen & Alejandro’s trips? 🙂

*can confirm, pumice floats. At least for a while until it’s all waterlogged, then it sinks.

Image dump of the rest of the pics since narrative got ahead of everything I wanted to share. The views really are just absurd.

On to days 4 and 5! Here’s the trip header with links to the other reports. Felt like too much for one post so I’m breaking it into bite sized chunks because you know I’m a storyteller.

Day 1: Drive to Field’s Point Landing, express ferry to Stehekin, hike to Bird Creek Bivvy. ~10mi, 5000ft gain, 5hrs.
Day 2: Bird Creek Bivvy to Tupshin summit and back. ~3mi, 3300ft gain, 10hrs.
Day 3: Bird Creek Bivvy to Devore summit, Bird Lakes, and back, then move camp to Bird Creek. ~7mi, 3500ft gain, ~13hrs
Day 4 (this post): Pack up Bird Creek camp, stash ovenight gear at turnoff for Flora, Flora summit and back to Devore Creek, move camp to Ten Mile Pass. 13mi, 7800ft gain, ~12hrs
Day 5 (this post): Ten Mile Pass to Holden, ferry back to Field’s Point Landing. ~7mi, 200ft gain, ~2.5

PLOWING AHEAD with sparknotes:

• Flora is a walk, a really long walk
• Consider doing Flora during larch season if you’re into views, wow
• Tenmile Pass from the Devore Creek side is 85% cruiser 15% blowdowns
• Tenmile Pass to Holden is… decidedly not cruiser. 100+ blowdowns. PARKOUR
• There is no water at Tenmile Pass, but there is water if you’re willing to hike ~5min down the trail towards Holden

This was going to be a big day. There were a lot of unknowns ahead of us and we just had to trust things were going to work out and that moving slow and steady would eventually get us to where we needed to be. Most people who climb Flora do it from Bird Creek camp as an out and back, but we wanted to carry up and over Tenmile Pass and exit via Holden instead of hiking all the way back down the Devore Creek Trail to the Stehekin River trail, backtracking those stupid 3 miles to the shuttle, and taking the shuttle to the ferry. So our goal was to pack up camp, stash gear at the turnoff for Flora, climb Flora, repack our overnight packs, and hump all of our gear up to Tenmile Pass. Through trails that may or may not have received maintenance yet this year in the worst year of blowdowns/deadfall in recent memory. We had heard reports of 250+ blowdowns, 450+ blowdowns, and two brave volunteers going out to battle the brush a few days before we’d be there. Who knew how far they’d gotten.

We were moving by 5:30am with no idea what to expect. The volunteer crew seemed to have stopped at Bird Creek Camp, because we immediately started running into blowdowns, but nothing awful. We were able to refind the trail fairly quickly and I don’t think they made us much slower than 2mi/hr. Soon enough we were at the flat ish spot to cross Devore Creek and start the bushwhack up to Flora. We emptied our packs of overnight gear, tied up spare food, and shared horror stories of people stealing cached/stashed gear. Taking food to eat. Taking snowshoes thinking they were lost/forgotten. Straight up stealing nice gear because why not? Fortunately we were SO far out there I couldn’t imagine anyone would take extra overnight gear to hump out 8 miles over blowdowns and ferries. I tied my food in some leggings (still don’t have a bear bag… shh) and tied those to a tree. Usually I use my sleeping bag stuff sack, but it was holding my sleeping bag, so I had to get creative.

We crossed Devore Creek easily on some logs and began the bushwhack, aiming for the saddle south of Enigma Peak. It wasn’t as bad as the bushwhack up to Bird Creek high camp, but it wasn’t exactly open forest. Lots of spiderwebs, neck/head high blueberries and teenage pine trees. 50/50 hip high brush and annoying blowdown pickup sticks. We got a streak of like five walkable logs connected to each other and I announced it was the gift that kept on giving, letting us walk high above the brush. “We’re logging some serious elevation gain on these” “Ooh make sure to put that in the bLOG” the tree puns carried me for a hundred vertical feet. We broke out into a small treed basin with running water and cute flowers and took a short break. I kept thinking we were about to be above treeline and it just never came. The sun was lighting up the trees, the ground was getting flatter, but the trees continued. Until finally, we found a beautiful meadow (part marsh) around 7200ft, and finally, FINALLY we were in the alpine Stupid east side with their stupid high tree line. Our next break was brief as the bugs wreaked havoc on our bodies.

Beyond the marsh, we continued up an increasingly steep and unstable talus slope to an obvious saddle to climber’s left, starting out with large solid boulders and progressing into classic softball/football sized rocks ready to tumble around your feet any minute. I had the Grocery Outlet jingle stuck in my head, which sucked, because it’s literally four words long. Gro-cer-y Ouuut. Leeeet. Bar-gain Maaaar-ket. I asked the group what songs you could get stuck in someone’s head just by saying a few words. Examples are:

– Bye bye bye
– Shout (options)
– The final countdown
– What is Love
– Take on me
– Stop (hammertime? collaborate and listen? In the name of love? Too many options)
– 867-5309 (no one knows the other lyrics though)

This and pockets of wildflowers carried me up to the Enigma-Riddle(?) saddle, where we had maybe the most annoying part of the day: dropping like 800ft of elevation to the meadows below on steep, also loose dirt and scree. Fortunately the loose stuff only comprised like 200ft of that, and the rest was on heather through larches until we got to the ridiculously beautiful Castle Creek surrounded by wildflowers and larches and I just couldn’t believe no one comes up here to camp in larch season. I know, I know, lugging all your overnight shit up there is unpleasant, but this had to be one of the most larchy spots I have ever seen in my life. Numerous and DENSE. We picked our way through them until we gained the rib that would take us up to a final basin below Flora. The rib was step (you can traverse further north to make it less steep) but we found game trails here and there to help, and finally got above trees once again.

The final stretch to Flora’s summit was a talus walk. Also annoying, but easy, and the views were amazing. I really underestimated the scenery on Flora. Adorable patches of wildflowers, rock ranging from red to black to white, views of Lake Chelan and Domke Lake to Maude to Tupshin and Devore, glaciers may be missing but it’s a very cool viewpoint. At the summit we found some metal wire scraps, no idea what those are from. “I thought they might be holding the place together” a climbing acquaintance commented on Facebook a few days later. We did the normal summit routine again, I finally finished my cheez its and cheddar cheese, and we made quick work getting back to the first basin and then to Castle Creek.

Getting back up to the saddle south of Enigma was about as painful as expected. Baking in the hot sun, dust kicked up by someone in front of you just sticks to your face, sometimes you take a step up and your foot just slides down to where it used to be. But we found the ramp we had used on the way down, took another quick break at the saddle, and soon enough we were back at beautiful bug marsh meadow where our break was equally brief because the bugs were somehow worse than they had been that morning. We got back onto the topic of music because my head had been liked a jukebox all day. Do you ever think about song lyrics like a decade later and realize how terrible they are? The song in question was Smack That by Akon. Smack that, out on the floor, smack that, til you get sore, smack that – wait, what?! til you get sore!? Akon, get out of my vanilla life, I’m trying to enjoy the scenery.

My brain glazed over for the bushwhack down. It actually went decently, or maybe I was in a trance and just didn’t process anything we did. We were back at our overnight gear around 4pm and moving towards Tenmile pass by 4:30. Amelia and I started moving slowly thinking the others would catch up on the trail. We ran into a section of avy debris which was surprising. The slide must have been HUGE. Trees all down across the trail in the same direction, snow still frozen solid underneath them. Someone had cut all the branches off the logs which was very much appreciated. We went around both sections and refound the trail, wondering where the boys were until we heard their voices on the other side of the avy debris.

Crossing Devore Creek is your last convenient chance to get water before Tenmile Pass. We skipped it and grabbed water off a switchback, but that took 20ft of schwhacking to get to. I grabbed one of Jon’s spare nalgenes to fill up. I only need like 1-1.5L of water to get through a night but everyone else seemed super thirsty, so I figured carrying 3.5L meant others could use mine. And it was a good call, because it was all consumed by the next morning. Tim I think carried 5 freaking liters up to the pass! Tim’s tiny but that’s why he’s the gecko. Sticks to any slope angle and moves so freaking fast you look up and you’re like I saw him out of the corner of my eye but where’d he go?!

The trail from Devore Creek Crossing to Tenmile Pass was blowdown free. You don’t see the pass until you’re right below it. I saw Jon on switchbacks above me and was determined to catch him. I pushed the pace for a few switchbacks before remembering he’s a fucking machine and I had no chance. Cresting Tenmile Pass, there were no clear established campsites, but there was a huge open clearing with minimal vegetation where we felt okay pitching tents given the circumstances. There are supposedly campsites a mile below the pass, but we never found them. Tim was next to arrive at the pass. “Are we camping here?!” he asked. “Yes, if that’s okay!” His face stretched into a huge smile and he threw his arms up. “THANK YOU!!!” I just started laughing. “I’m old and happy!” was one of my favorites from Tim.

We set up tents, everyone checked on each other to make sure we had enough water and food and see if anyone needed help with tents or cooking. Everyone. Was. Wiped. I think we had the full spectrum of emotions between the six of us, from “don’t talk to me i’m exhausted” to “i’m pissed i’m exhausted” to “i’m happy but also exhausted” to “i’m relieved and exhausted” to just “i’m stoked to be here and exhausted.” Amelia trotted to my tent and dumped a bunch of electrolyte mixes in front of me. “I’m sick of my energy gels what food do you have that you’ll trade for these?” We bartered some stroop waffles and chia seed mixes for electrolytes. I think Andrew was on day 2 of his mashed potato diet. Tim had leftover vegan noodles he couldn’t convince anyone to eat. “Andrew, I can carry the rope tomorrow morning” I offered. “No! That’s CHEATING!” Hahaha! “You can’t carry the rope into Holden after not carrying it the past few days!” I had been carrying the trad rack (3lbs vs 7lbs for the rope) since he took the rope from me when I was dying Thursday night. Well. Fair point. Enjoy carrying the rope another day then!

We made do with the water that we had, and the next morning we found water a five minute walk from the pass, maybe not even. So if you camp up there, there IS running water, you just have to look for it a bit. Not sure if it was a spring or snow, but there wasn’t much snow that we saw, so I’m thinking it’s a natural spring. There was also a LOT of wildlife up there. We were clearly encroaching on a deer’s favorite spot, he came around and snorted and clomped and sniffed out all of our gear. I had hazy dreams of a dear shredding my sleeping-bag-stuff-sack-turned-food-bag. Oh, and you’ll be camping on like 2″ of ash, so be careful what you touch and where you dig. Your tent’s going to be duuuusty.

We got moving at 5am to make sure we got to Holden in time for the 10:45am shuttle to the ferry. This was the stretch of trail we thought would have the worst blowdowns. The tenmile trail drops into the valley and connects to the Company Creek trail officially, but there’s also a connector trail to the Tenmile Falls trail out of Holden. It’s not on most maps for some reason. It does receive annual maintenance according to the rangers, but.. not much. The first ~2 miles down from the pass were cruiser: beautiful trail, beautiful switchbacks, beautiful burn zone scenery.

And then we hit the junction with the Company Creek trail and the connector to Holden. And it turned into miles of parkour. Over logs. Under logs. Around logs. We crawled. We jumped. We scrambled. Amazingly, a volunteer crew had trimmed branches off all of the logs, which is an INSANE amount of work given what we saw. Hilariously, Jon had ripped his pants about an inch at some point, and with every log shenanigan, the rip grew longer, and longer, and longer until he had a 16″ rip from waistband to where the pants zipped off into shorts. RIP his pants (get it). But eventually, there’s a view to skiier’s left of a huge waterfall coming down from Tenmile Pass, and finally, FINALLY we started seeing fresh sawdust. Boom. We were where the volunteers had ended. Deer prints abounded. Guess we aren’t the only beings who appreciate a beautifully cleared trail. From there, it was a long but quick cruise to Tenmile Falls (pretty, but underwhelming after everything we had seen) and down into Holden Village.

Holden Village was more welcoming than the last time I was there, but THERE WAS STILL NO ICE CREAM. I don’t understand the economics of this. The tourists all have to leave at 10:45am to catch the ferry. Why. Does the ice cream. Not open. Until 1pm. That’s so stupid. Are you just making money off your volunteers? That’s cruel. Milk the tourists, guys, come on. TAKE MY MONEY. Getting breakfast was an event too, because breakfast ends at 8:30 but the Hiker Haus and Registration (necessary for any hikers to get access to buildings, like the building that has breakfast) don’t open until 9am. ONCE AGAIN. HOLDEN. DO YOU WANT. MY MONEY. OR NOT.

We split into two groups, I found someone willing to sneak us oatmeal but the others found someone who actually worked Registration and was willing to get us registered in time for breakfast. Breakfast was $10 for mostly oatmeal and toast and canned fruit. And apples! I ran over to Andrew, who was still wearing his headlamp despite being indoors at 8:30am. Andrew they have apples!!! You’ve been talking about them for days! I made toast and loaded it up with cream cheese. Except a few minutes later the cream cheese was melting and sliding down the bread… because it was actually butter. I had just taken like a half cup of whipped butter and everyone just watched and never said anything. In their defense, I still ate all of it. After adding salt, because it was unsalted. $10 for toast with unsalted butter. Holden. Come. On. No eggs no cheese no protein and NO ICE CREAM.

Holden had one redeeming factor for a nerd like me: the library. We couldn’t go in it last year, but it was open this year. Amelia and I darted inside. One of my favorite children’s books was front and center – Officer Buckle and Gloria! An adorable story about a policeman and his dog educating their community on safety. We read that and then started picking up reference books, reading about mining history, local native art, newspaper clippings from the early 1900’s, reading random trivia to each other from whatever we were reading. A guy who found a ton of gold by Mt. Stuart, only to have it buried literally that night in an earthquake. Two guys who escaped the Wellington avalanche that killled nearly 100 people back in 1910. Origins of lake and peak names from native languages. Pictures of miners 1500ft underground before the mines were shut down. Enough to easily keep me entertained for the hours we had to kill until the shuttle arrived.

The shuttle took us to Lucerne (where the ferry picks you up/drops you off for Holden) where we had over an hour to relax and swim before the ferry arrived. We all jumped into the fucking freezing water, which was amazing. The forecast had said 109 degrees but it certainly didn’t feel that hot. Either way, jumping in a cold clear lake after five days of layering sweat/sunscreen/bug spray felt phenomenal.

On the ferry, we ran into Matt and Anita, who had just hiked from Cascade Pass to Stehekin, and picked us up some surprise bakery treats from the Stehekin Bakery! Jon ran into an old college friend, and we chatted with Selena, Max, and Steven Song (his amazing blog here) who had just done Bonanza, Martin, and Copper out of Holden too. Small world. Party on the Monday morning ferry. We whooped at a jet skiier who was cris-crossing the ferry’s wake getting air cresting every wave. Looked like a total blast.

I can see why no one through hikes Stehekin to Holden or vice versa via Tenmile Pass and Devore Creek. Even aside from the 150 blowdowns in like a two mile stretch, the Tenmile Pass trail only has views thanks for the forest fire, and the Devore Creek trail doesn’t have much in terms of views at all. It seems to primarily be an access point for the three Bulgers we had climbed and not much more. But i’m a nerd, and it’s cool to get a glimpse of these less frequented trails, and it makes me appreciate that they’re still being maintained, even if minimal. Seems more and more trails get abandoned every year, and it’s not like we’re gaining new trails. Always makes me wonder how a certain trail comes into existence and what its use case was when it was first built. Recreation? Hunting? Transportation? Mining? Logging? I have no idea why Devore Creek or Tenmile Pass trails exist.

This was an incredible multiday trip with a really great group. Thursday solidified it, I can be a mess with that group and they’ll come together to support me. Hopefully me floundering like that is a rare occasion, but it’s really amazing being able to trust a crew like that. Good company, great views, awesome experience. There are still some peaks in that area I need to get but I think it’ll be a while before I feel like revisiting some of those bushwhacks.

To read prior days, check here for days 1 & 2 (approach/Tupshin) and here for day 3 (Devore).

On to day 3! Here’s the trip header with links to the other reports. Felt like too much for one post so I’m breaking it into bite sized chunks because you know I’m a storyteller.

Day 1: Drive to Field’s Point Landing, express ferry to Stehekin, hike to Bird Creek Bivvy. ~10mi, 5000ft gain, 5hrs.
Day 2: Bird Creek Bivvy to Tupshin summit and back. ~3mi, 3300ft gain, 10hrs.
Day 3 (this post): Bird Creek Bivvy to Devore summit, Bird Lakes, and back, then move camp to Bird Creek. ~7mi, 3500ft gain, ~13hrs
Day 4: Pack up Bird Creek camp, stash ovenight gear at turnoff for Flora, Flora summit and back to Devore Creek, move camp to Ten Mile Pass. 13mi, 7800ft gain, ~12hrs
Day 5: Ten Mile Pass to Holden, ferry back to Field’s Point Landing. ~7mi, 200ft gain, ~2.5

Here we go with day 3. Sparknotes:

• Ignore the GPX tracks on peakbagger, go back up the brushy slopes to Tupshin and sidehill to the valley to cross the creek. Trust me. 1000x better.
• The gully isn’t nearly as bad as it looks from Tupshin
• Bird Lakes are worth the detour
• The 4th class rap is essential and summit rap is preferred, but make sure the person off rappel is also clear of the gulley before you set up your rap
• Camp to camp: ~11hrs (5am to 9:30am summit, long break at Bird Lakes, 4pm back at camp), then moved camp to 4200ft Devore/Bird Creek junction arriving around 6pm

We woke up a bit earlier this day, knowing it would be longer. We were originally aiming for two peaks this day, Devore plus a bonus, but unfortunately things weren’t lining up the way we needed them to.

Oh boy. Ignore the GPX tracks you probably pulled off peakbagger for this one. We followed them and cut straight up the gut of the valley and it was a mess of annoying slide alder and thick brush. I’d recommend what we did on the way down: follow your track up Tupshin for a hundred vertical feet until you’re in manageable brush/blueberry bushes, and then sidehill connecting animal trails (hopefully they’re still there) until you’re in the meadow below the gully to Devore. The creek crossing is easy, and the gully is a heather and talus staircase.

The gully drops you off at.. oh, a second gully. A fake minor basin of larches (beautiful) and loose talus, scree, and dirt (not beautiful) to gain the real Bird Lakes basin (SPECTACULARLY BEAUTIFUL). Wildflowers were sprinkled among the scree which made it more tolerable. Gaining the moraine above Bird Lakes Basin was sad because I was so excited to the see the lakes, but turns out they’re a slight side trip to the northwest. Suddenly I heard “BEAR! BIG BEAR!” and I picked my head up with wide eyes scanning the basin. “WHERE” “here!! Look!” My eyes darted, my heart raced. Wait. They’re pointing to our feet. Tracks. Not a live bear. Relax. But damn the tracks were huge!

We put on crampons and booted up the snow to the far east ridge, following a sandy boot path up the mellow ridge to some steep snow below the Bottles. At the cool col next to the bottles we packed up the snow gear and dropped down the first of a loooong stretch of steep slopes with everything from solid scrambleable rock to kitty litter covered ledges to unstable talus and scree.

The going through this section was tedious. We divided and conquered, trying to stay out of each others’ line of fall in case someone knocked down rocks. We had figured out by now who in the group was most prone to kicking things loose: Andrew. I kicked something down and we all shouted ROOOOOCK followed by Andrew slightly more quietly “it wasn’t me!” only minutes later to hear ROOOOOCK followed by Andrew “Okay that one was me!” This section felt like choose your own adventure, we traversed until a minor ridge we could follow almost up to the main ridge, where we sidehilled more on the west side until the unavoidable 4th class step.

Now 4th class is interesting. Sometimes it means just “extremely exposed 3rd class.” I like Jon’s definition, which is “I can get up it just fine but don’t love downclimbing it.” And sometimes I swear it means “5th class but there’s no pro so we’re going to call it 4th class.” This honestly felt like the third option. there were big ledges for feet but it was vertical and exposed. Some of us scrambled it and then tossed down a rope to the others since there’s a conveniently located rap station at the top.

From the top of that rappel, we traversed almost straight to the left (same elevation) to an extremely exposed 3rd class (4th?) move. There may be a better move higher up, not sure. Someone knocked a rock loose and we all looked at each other waiting for it to hit the ground below. We finally heard it strike. Yikes, that’s a lot of time to think about falling if you slip here. I evicted the thought from my mind and made the move. It was extremely awkward, at least for my reach/flexibility/height. Had to trust there was a hand hold there, couldn’t reach both holds at once. From there, another traverse left to the base of the obvious gully (actually obvious! basically a short boot path right to it) and a quick scramble up the gully to the top. The gully isn’t technically hard, but just like the rest of these crumbling choss piles it’s full of softball to microwave sized rocks just waiting to hurtle down on your friends below you, so I tried to be as dainty with my foot placements as possible.

The summit routine was the usual, admire views, snap pictures, look for summit register (no register!), shit no one brought whiskey wait no that’s fine packs are already heavy enough. Okay okay we have a lot to get done today, time to get moving. Jon led the first rap down and hustled to set up the second rap down the unavoidable 4th class step. Two others went, and I heard someone at the bottom shout “wait, where did you guys go? GUYS?!” and I rapped down next only to find no one at the bottom. Someone above kicked rocks down the gully on me, unsurprisingly given the condition of the gully. A football size rock bounced off the calf I was relying on to push the rest of me under a slight overhang on the wall. I was pissed. If I had legitimately been injured by the rockfall, no one would have been there to see it and help.

Unfortunately I let my adrenaline get the better of me and did exactly the same thing to the person behind me, leaving them behind as I angrily went around the corner trying to work off my frustration. Stupid and hypocritical of me, but fortunately those behind me were fine, no more rock fall.

The rap down the 4th class step went smoothly, and we made quick work of the traversey descent and climb back to Cool Col and then to Bird Lakes. Tim decided to skip our bonus peak and head back to camp, so we parted ways just before the lakes. At the lakes, we stopped for water, and I realized it was 12:30. I pulled Jon aside. Here’s what I’m worried about.

1. Bonus peak is 2 pitches of technical rock. For a party of 2, a good rule of thumb is 1 hour per pitch. So 1 hour to the base of the climb, 2 hours to the summit, 1 hour to rap down, 1 hour back to the lakes, 2 hours back to camp. 7 hours total, then we needed to move camp down 1000ft.

2. We had 5 people. That meant we could pretty much guarantee it would take more than one hour per pitch.

3. We had a really big day with Flora the next day.

We called the others over to discuss. Do we want to go for it but not get to lower camp until well after dark, or did we want to make it a comfortable day and be at camp around dinnertime? Everyone agreed on the latter. 2016-2018 me would have gone for it but 2022 me is so much lazier. This was a really hard decision though, because the bonus peak was the whole reason I was there. I’ve been admiring it from afar for like seven years. But I’ve had a good streak of goal peaks this summer, it’s okay to let one go. Just need to convince someone to do that approach again with me in a few years.

We hung out at Bird Lakes for over an hour. We hiked an infinity loop around the two lakes, found a few campsites, and sat in the shade having snacks and hydrating. It’s such an unbelievable area. I simultaneously can’t believe no one camps here (it’s gorgeous pristine wilderness with a lake unlike most you’ll ever see) and also completely understand why (getting overnight gear up there would be a BITCH unless you’re bivvying). It’d be a DREAM to get up there in larch season.

We headed back to camp around 1:30pm, shouting to Tim we were coming for him. Much of the scree slope was plunge steppable, but the lower gully (heather and talus) was a bit of a knee banger. Towards the base of the gully we realized we could avoid all the brush by sidehilling through the meadow until we intersected with our Tupshin descent path, which at its worst had some downed logs and blueberries, a walk in the park compared to the bushwhack up the middle of the valley that morning. We followed game trails that had been recently used by something big. I thanked the bear and deer for making such great trails and hoped we didn’t run into whatever had clearly trampled the plants recently. The game trail carried us perfectly back to our Tupshin descent track, and we rolled into camp to Tim’s laughs. “I followed game trails over here instead of coming back through the brush!” he announced. It wasn’t a bear or a deer that had trampled the brush recently, it was the gecko!

We packed up camp and headed down the bushwhack. We ignored GPX tracks again, following our noses down the path of least resistance, and it was bad but not as bad as the way up. “Is this better because we’re finding a better route, or because I’m in a better mental place?” I asked. Behind me I heard Jon mention we had dropped ~100ft of elevation. “We’ve only lost 100ft of elevation? That’s fucked up” Andrew said with an almost perplexed voice. I cracked up. Okay, yeah, it’s still shitty.

We found the trail, recently brushed out and cleared by the volunteers we had met! They strategically left a log down across the river to make it easier to cross, but camp I swear was larger than it had been two days prior. They must have cleared some deadfall out of camp too. The general consensus has been that the downed tree situation this year is far worse than prior years. I was insanely thankful the volunteers had beat us to most of the trail so we didn’t have to parkour our way through hundreds of dead trees.

We debated trying to camp further up the trail, but since there was no guarantee that campsites existed, we decided to play it safe and stay where we were. We managed to fit five tents into the camp thanks to some gardening work by Tim, who found out he had lost his utensils at some point and quickly improvised chopsticks with his tent stakes. I was in the tent by 7pm just listening to the others talk including a hilarious mini rant by Andrew about the Fred Meyer experience at 7pm and how there’s always only one checker-outer available despite all the customers trying to get like two weeks worth of groceries at one time. Jon quickly agreed. I’m not sure what came of it, because I definitely drifted off to sleep mid conversation.

Links to Days 1 & 2 (approach & Tupshin) here and Days 4 & 5 (Flora and exit) here.