Glaciers – Walking-Heart

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.

I have visited many wilderness areas on this hike. This sign sent a shiver down my spine.

I had to pull out my map to confirm that this was the elusive Glacier Peak.

The climb up Red’s Pass gave me the first glimpse of the four additional passes ahead.

You can barely make out Glacier Peak in this photo. Depending on the ever-changing smoke and light, it would fade in and out over the next four days.

I faced a dangerous river crossing early on my third day when I felt like quitting. I wrote the following Haiku, and this river crossing brought me back to the present moment.

The log is the way
My feet lead me through chaos
There is nothing else

The layers and layers of underbrush were beautiful and sometimes claustrophobic.

Swimming in Mica Lake, pure joy and brought my core temperature down instantly.

The view from my campsite on day four; I didn’t even know these mountains were there when I hiked in through the smoke and fading light.

Navigating around blow-down trees is hard enough. In Washington, they can be the size of a house.

Cooler weather and even some showers came in on day six; what a relief.

In 2008, my son Mitchell and I started PCT section hiking with a 45-mile hike through the Sisters Wilderness Area. Retracing those steps, I recalled many funny stories and truly appreciate how fortunate I am that this is my backyard. It is more accurate to say that this is our backyard. These public lands are preserved for generations to come. These lands were the ancestral homes of the native peoples who lived here sustainably over many centuries before colonization.

It is natural and appropriate to have pride in the place we live. That was on full display during the hike in 2008 when I would ask the thru-hikers what their favorite section was so far. I was waiting for the correct answer; “it’s here in the Sisters”. The only response we heard was the Sierra, which did pique my interest to hike there. Over the years, I have doubted whether the Sisters Wilderness was, in fact, as special as I believed it to be. I will let you be the judge as you look at my photos from the last two days. I re-discovered the uniqueness of this combination of volcanic peaks, deep forests, and open plains. I have not seen anything like it.

One of my favorite stories from 2008 was our packs, which we felt were lightweight because they were less than 40 pounds. We were amazed to see thru-hikers zip by with what we would consider day packs. I remember Dragon Ant; he had a tiny pack and was logging 40 miles a day. I can still see him almost skipping over the ground. We got lost in the snow for at least 3 hours, developed an amazing array of blisters from hiking in wet boots, and did not carry enough water to cross the lava flow section. Despite all our troubles, Mitchell went on to section hike 800 miles in 2015, and I crossed the 2000-mile mark today.

The lesson that I share with hikers that I meet along the way is to be patient with yourself. Whether this is your first backpacking trip or you’ve been doing it for decades, you always make mistakes. You must learn and be adaptable whether your body is not performing as you’d hoped, or your gear is not working, or external factors change unexpectedly. The critical thing is that we develop our ability to accept, adapt, and learn from all that we experience. And that’s why every day, every step is a new adventure.

This week I’ve met folks from Oklahoma, Texas, Idaho, and Pennsylvania who have come to hike the Sisters Loop Trail. I welcomed them all to play in our backyard.