The Elusive Glacier Peak

I just completed the amazing and challenging Glacier Peak Wilderness section of the PCT. In six days, I covered 127-miles from Stevens Pass to Rainy Pass with 38K feet of climbing. There is a lot to unpack from my past and current attempt to enjoy the elusive Glacier Peak.

The first attempt was back in college organized by my brother, Bill. The three-day trip was to enter from the west then climb up one of the ridges to enjoy a view of Glacier Peak in all its splendor. We entered via a lush forest trail on the first day before climbing the ridge. We were caught in a torrent so heavy that it flooded our tent. It was so bad that the mice decided to shelter in our tent and raid our food. I remember six people covered in mud trying to dig drainage ditches, fend off mice, and stay warm. Defeated but not dejected, we exited and found other ways to spend our 3-day weekend. I wrote that trip off to inexperience, bad gear, and bad luck.

The second attempt was on my shoulders, leading my family into a similar hike to view the magnificent Glacier Peak from a ridge to the west. The results were the same; we climbed, were destroyed by a rainstorm, and exited with never a glimpse of the mythical peak. This disaster was entirely on me as I chose to ignore the weather report and advice from the ranger at Darrington.

It is only reasonable that my third attempt to hike near Glacier Peak made me nervous. Upon leaving Stevens Pass and climbing the ridges from the south, I was amazed to take pictures of what I thought might just be a legend. However, after climbing Red’s Pass and dropping into a river valley, Glacier Peak disappeared once again, shrouded in smoke from a fire. That set the tone for six days of massive climbs up and down the river valleys surrounding Glacier Peak with glimpsing views through the smoke. Early on, I committed to returning to this magnificent area a fourth time to explore without the threat of fires.

I now have a much clearer picture of both the beauty and the difficulty of the North Cascades. The glacial peaks (Washington has 186 named glaciers versus Oregon 35 and California 20) remind me of the Sierra and the Alps. The 3,500-foot descents and climbs traverse thickly forested river valleys, dense underbrush, and open scree fields. I swam in two glacier-tinted lakes and felt every cell shout, hell yes. I saw plenty of bear scat and heard elk bugle at sunset. I have not backpacked in Alaska, but one thru-hiker made that comparison. The challenges mainly came from the relentless climbs, the bugs, and staying cool during another heatwave. Hikers don’t mention the mosquitos in these parts because they are hardly noticed amongst the swarming small biting flies and the Imperial-Trooper-sized deer flies. Within two days, I was at my wit’s end.

On the third morning, I sent Pleasure-Way a message on my Garmin saying I felt like stopping. She wrote back, “hang in there; you got this.” I met Endless and QB, two triple crown hikers from Boston, who provided some much-needed support. “We are being tested; you got this.” I can’t tell you how much the phrase “you got this” helps from family, friends, and fellow hikers. It may sound like a two-bit cheer, but it sure does the job. “You” is speaking to the many layers of self that have walked this journey with me. “got this” is an affirmation that I have developed the body, mind, and practices to finish this hike. It is hard to put into words how important your support is.

I have 61 miles and 16.3 K feet of climbing to reach the border. I will then turn around and hike 30 miles back to Hart’s Pass. See you on the other side.