Day 2.
9.9 miles, 3300ft elevation gain. Making an oath to never camp in front of a runaway train ever again, we pack our gear and head for the trailhead at Stevens Pass, and are disappointed to see the place totally socked in with fog! Just great! Is this going to be another of those hikes that we can’t see anything? We load up, and head up the trail, appears that we’re going to find out for ourselves if the weather is going to cooperate.
This part of the trail sidehills it’s way across the Stevens Pass ski slopes, to make the highpoint at one of the chairlift terminals. Seems strange to see the ski area this way, as if it’s been abandoned, setting high off the ground, waiting for the next snowfall, chairs running down the slope and disappearing into the treeline and fog. The trail follows the hillside down, also disappearing into the gray mists.
We’re currently on the PCT, and will be for awhile before our cut off that takes us down to Josephine Lake, on trail #1551. About 4 miles in, we pass our first of several lakes, Lake Susan Jane, a small lake at the base of a large talus field, consisting of large granite rocks spilling down a steep hillside. There are several areas along the slopes here that are filled with talus and huge granite boulders, but the trail crews have done an admiral job of cutting the trail through them.
…we can look down upon Josephine Lake, a deep midnight blue, fading to a dark turquoise blue as it nears the shallows along the edges…
Not much further along the trail, we come to our trail junction for trail #1551, and follow a circuitous route along another steep slope, down into Josephine Lake basin. Finally, some of the bothersome fog has now lifted, and from up high, we can look down upon Josephine Lake, a deep midnight blue, fading to a dark turquoise blue as it nears the shallows along the edges. And, there in the middle of the lake, is a guy tooling around in a rubber raft! I have to admit, I was a little astonished by this, knowing that someone had to want that bad enough to lug one in.
Very pretty lake, and there were a few campsites here along the southern shore. Most of the north and west side are all steep talus slopes, a familiar scene that will be repeated over and over on this loop hike. The trail drops off steeply over the outlet side of the lake, and becomes the headwater for Icicle Creek, and follows the stream for 2 miles, before crossing it one last time. Most of the way here is flat, through deep huckleberry brush that lines both sides of the trail, and is overgrown in spots.
Still, the trail is easy to follow, and we make good time to the creek crossing before stopping to rest. Shortly after the crossing, you can see the faint trail that heads uphill to the Chain Lakes, #1569. This part of the trail starts out steep, and just keeps going steep, as it switchbacks through old growth timber up, it gains 1900ft in 2.3 miles. A little less than a 1000ft per mile, but still very steep. Also, the fact that the trail is not very well maintained, and goes straight up the hillside in places, instead of giving your foot a flat foundation to push off on, adds to the impression that this trail has such a rapid incline…
…Doing this in the open on a hot day would make you wonder why you ever took up backpacking in the first place…
I guess there is some good news, it’s all under tree cover. Doing this in the open on a hot day would make you wonder why you ever took up backpacking in the first place…Finally, we break the tree line, and are greeted by the spectacular view of the first Chain Lake. The water here is that deep azure blue that really catches your eye, and seems the unmistakable hue for the lakes in this wilderness.
To our left, is a large granite cliff side, that has dropped jumbled boulders in landslide fashion right to the water’s edge, and all along the top of the sheer cliff are jagged points jutting skyward, like shards of broken glass. To our right the trail winds through small meadows, interspersed with alpine firs, on the only part of flat ground here in the lakes basin. After the long trudge so far, we are looking forward to dropping the loads off of our sagging shoulders, so it’s time to move on.
The next Chain Lake is just over the rise, and it is by far, the most beautiful. It’s not a large lake, but it lies nestled among large granite outcroppings that have become small gardens, with tufts of grass and heather growing at the base of alpine trees, small meadows that drop down to the water’s edge at this end of the lake, as well as at the other. And, at the far end, the carefully maintained garden of grass and tree give way to more steep talus slopes, that continue up to the highpoint of towering Bulls Tooth, the mountain that we will circumnavigate on this hike.
This side of Bulls Tooth, as viewed from the lakes edge, gives the appearance of a large, stony, amphitheater, curved around the far side of the lake. To the far left of where we stand taking in the views, is the sharks fin of the ridgeline that bordered the first lake, and it rises to a sharp triangular point, looking every bit like the foreboding fin of a circling shark. Impressive! Reminds me of Prusik Peak in the Enchantments, but the maps that we have give it no name.
However, once we arrived at home, I learned from Google Earth that its name is Sasha Peak. It is at this point, there is a flat spot next to a weathered tree, that we decide to eventually make camp, for the prime spot on the lake is already taken, a flat spot on a large granite overlook that rises about 20 feet from the surface of the lake, ringed in trees. No matter, for we are well pleased with our spot.
…taking pictures of all that our eyes can see, but knowing that they will not do this remarkable place justice, serving only as reminders of when we visited so grand a place…
After setting up camp, we wash up in the cold lake, and sit for awhile on the flat granite boulders next to the lake, spreading out our wet laundry and allowing the sun to dry us. The rest of the day is spent exploring the banks of the lakes here, taking pictures of all that our eyes can see, but knowing that they will not do this remarkable place justice, serving only as reminders of when we visited so grand a place.
As night nears, we see our old friend reappear, as a thick blanket of fog slowly envelopes the jagged peaks, then the lower hills, and finally, completely enshrouds us, hiding the nearby lake from view. As the wind drives the heavy wisps of moisture by us in the fading daylight, it reminds me of being on a ship on calm waters, the surface hidden from view, and the only thing that you feel is the sensation of movement as the ship glides smoothly over the fog draped surface, giving you a slight case of vertigo. I almost feel as if we need to lean into it, to keep from tipping over.
…It’s an eerie feeling, sitting here in the wilderness, listening to the night…
Finally, the day yields to night, and we put both of our Black Diamond lanterns on our trekking poles, placing them about 5 feet apart, like landing beacons to chase back the night. The effect of being near the water, or on a dock is now only enhanced, as the damp fog races by the lights, rustling the tree branches overhead, while the faint running of water over rocks reaches our ears through the ebb and flow of the wind. It’s an eerie feeling, sitting here in the wilderness, listening to the night.
Then, we hear a startling scream, as if something has uttered its last breath in terror.
What was that?
Occasionally, the sounds of the campsite across the lake reach us, and you can hear the conversations intermingled with laughter, even though you can’t see them. Wonder if they can see our beacons from their location? Then, we hear a startling scream, as if something has uttered its last breath in terror. What was that? Suddenly, all the conversation dried up, as each set of ears, in our campsite, and all the others, came to attention, straining to hear if there was going to be more, and from what direction it came from.
It seemed the entire area was collectively holding its breath, listening for more clues as to what was going on. After finally needing to inhale, and allowing our breathing to return to normal, we waited for several more minutes, but the sound was gone as suddenly as it appeared, leaving us to wonder what had just happened. Time to turn in, and looking around at the dense fog that is now starting to dampen everything around us, we hope for clearer weather tomorrow.