Can I have a Christmas Tree?

View toward Granite Mountain

I cannot believe I set out for a hike in early December.  I intended to try the Ida Springs trail, which leads to Mason Lake, knowing that I wasn't going to make it all the way because of snow.  I didn't expect to get turned back at the beginning of road but it was unplowed and folks were heading strapping on their snowshoes a good three miles short of the trailhead.  Since I had neither snowshoes nor interest in walking on a road, I got back on I-90, with the intention of going to Annette Lake.  As I approached a tee in the road, planning to turn left I came upon a cluster of cars and trucks in various states of disarray. One car was stopped in the middle of the road to install chains and it seemed fruitless to wait.  I turned right instead, but why? It was uncharted territory and didn't go anywhere that I wanted to go.  Argh! There were cars and trucks stuck all over the place and while I wasn't concerned about getting stuck by losing traction, I was worried about getting high-centered or stuck without an easy way out.  After a mile or two on a narrow, slippery, heavily rutted road I came to a tee in the road where I turned around to look for a better alternative. 

I found it on the north side of I-90 at the Granite Mountain trailhead.  This is a tough slog any time of year.

Near the end of the trail

Looking south, across the valley

Self portraits are tricky!

The first mile of the trail heads toward  Pratt Lake up to a sign pointing right, and up to Granite Mountain. The next mile of the trail was quite a bit steeper but still in the forest.  Finally, the trail reaches a steep clearing, commonly known as an avalanche chute.  I had checked the snow conditions on the Northwest Avalanche Center (NWAC) web site before I left home and the conditions were moderate at all elevations and aspects.  The snow was crusted over and settled confirming the online report.  Half way across the first chute a boot trail headed straight up the fall line, which has to be nearly 40 degrees.  I wasn't up for that level of exertion so I continued on the normal trail, noticing that fewer hikers had traveled before me and the trail was narrower with more "postholes" left by hikers who stepped off the beaten path.

The trail switches up through the trees before entering another avalanche chute.  Again a set of tracks veered straight up the slope and the "primary trail turned to two sets of tracks, one up and one down.  After another 100 feet or so, the person who had been breaking trail turned back, as did I.

All in all it was a great day to be in the mountains. It was sunny, cool,and plenty windy, but it beat lying on the couch.

Kendall's Katwalk- The snowy approach

Thirty three degrees Fahrenheit and a light rain, is it any wonder the parking lot was deserted?  A family showed up and played in the slush for a bit while I gathered my gear: leaky boots? check.  corroded rain shell? check. inoperative satellite tracker? check.  The last one deserves a little explanation. After months (years?) of hassling me for hiking alone, my wife got me a SPOT for my birthday. I opened the box and discovered a small orange device that sends a signal to satellites that can be used to provide one's location in case of an emergency. I don't know what the SPOT cost but it is $100/year to activate the minimal service and it goes up from there.  I programmed the device online (after firing up my credit card) and checked in on my patio. It worked as advertised and sent an email with my latitude and longitude. The following week I tried it at the trail and it was dead. I figured I had left the power on and drained the batteries, so yesterday I purchased two extra packs of lithium AAA batteries. It's still dead!  I hope their customer service is good because they owe me a new one.

Back to the trail.  Once I was in the woods, the canopy blocked most of the rain and the trail was in decent shape.  The snow was only a couple of inches deep until I popped into the first clearing where it was probably 6 inches deep.  Guye Peak poked through the foggy gloom to the southwest.

There were two sets of boot tracks going up as far as the Commonwealth Basin cutoff, and then there were none.  It was quiet in the snow and fog and just a little spooky as I got a mile or so past the last sign of anyone else.  Soon enough, a younger fitter hiker came up behind me. We chatted for a bit and he told me he was scouting locations for AT skiing in the winter.  I cranked up my speed a bit but I was no match and soon he was out of sight.

I made it another mile or so before deciding to turn back. I figured I was at about 4,800 feet and the snow in clearings was about a foot deep.  My legs were beat and my energy level was low because I've been fighting a cold.  In any case, it wasn't long before my erstwhile companion passed me on the way down.  Again I tried to stay with him, which was a little easier going down. Still he pulled away.  A few minutes went by and I noticed he was stopped in his tracks looking at something on the trail.  Do you know what kind of tracks these are he asked?  I was pretty sure they were dog tracks but he stuck with me until we came across two other hikers, and their dog.  We passed them together and hit a slight upgrade, which hit me like a log.  I suggested he go ahead, and I slogged back to the car wet and weary, ready for the ski season to hit.

Rock with interesting patterns.

Commonwealth Basin

Sunday September 12th


I was listening to NPR while driving to Snoqualmie Pass as they debated whether to raise taxes for the highest income group.  The Ds say the rich folks are getting off too easy: millionaires and billionaires are paying at low rates while the Rs claim that many of those "rich" folks are small business owners, whose businesses would be harmed by higher taxes.  It occurs to me they are both right and both wrong.  I'm sure there are plenty of people that are very rich by most people's standards who are not small business owners.  Surely there is a way to tax them without taxing the small business owners who are creating jobs.  But enough fiscal policy, it is time to head to the hills.

The Pacific Crest Trail (PCT) crosses Snoqualmie Pass at the summit.  The trailhead for the PCT northbound is right at the beginning of the Alpetal access road at an elevation of 3,000 feet.  The primary day hike destination is Kendall's Katwalk, a rocky ledge about 5.5 miles from the car with 2,700 feet of elevation gain.  It was a soggy morning about 9 a.m. when I booted up and hit the trail.  The first mile or so rises gently through mixed aged trees with a salal underbrush.  The trail leaves the forest to cross a flat area of rockfall, or should it be called boulder-fall?  There is one monster that may weigh up to 100 tons, surely a headache of massive proportions if another of those comes tumbling down.  The trail loses about 100 feet of elevation as it winds along the easiest  path through the rocks and crosses a couple of small streams cascading off high cliffs to the right. A short while later there is a sign indicating a trail dropping into Commonwealth Basin.  After walking along the PCT another few hundred yards the opportunity to try a new route proved too strong so I doubled back and hung a sharp right.

After an easy mile to a creek crossing the trail turned sharply upward along a ridge. Along this reach the roar of I-90 finally subsided and was replaced with a very similar sound, water burbling over rocks in a small stream.  I pondered that the main difference was the lack of the low frequency drone of trucks downshifting as the prepared for the grade in either direction down the pass.

The trail gains about 1,000 feet on short, steep switchbacks before it reaches a small basin with a shallow pond that forms the headwaters of the creek.  This was the end of my day since I had no idea how much further the trail continuted.  As it turns out the trail only went another 1/2 mile to a point between Red Mountain and Kendall Peak. I'll have to try it again when the weather is clear and I have a map in hand.

Source Lake in the clouds

Berries on a bush

Looking down on Source Lake in the fall.

Fall is settling in. After a bit of a grueling hike to Island Lake on Saturday, I needed something easy, so it was off to the Alpental parking lot for a quick trip to Source Lake.  Surprisingly, there were only about 30 cars in the lot at 10:30 on Labor Day. Maybe it was the 50 degree temperature and clouds looming over the head of the valley. I had originally planned on going to Snow Lake from the same trail head but my left knee needed a break, especially on the return trip.  The trail to the junction is quite a gentle grade but scattered angular rock fallen in years past from the cliffs looming high to the right make the footing tricky in spots.  The weather was dry but threatening at the start and soon the threat began reality as the trail met the clouds.  It was a bit mystical walking through the gloomy mist and before long I was dripping wet.  I stopped to photograph fall colors along the way and made it to the end of the trail after about 45 minutes.  The destination was a little disappointing, as Source Lake is less than 100 feet across and several hundred yards below the trail.  I continued a couple of hundred yards further where the trail petered out into a vague rocky path heading steeply, but indefinitely into the shrubs. Is this the climber's access trail to The Tooth? The answer will have to wait for another day.