Northwest Hiking

The view of Kaleetan Peak from the Granite Mountain Trail stirred my imagination.  It looked so steep and inaccessible, a pinnacle standing alone.  (It is just a little left of center in this panorama).  When I discovered that it was only a second class scramble, I had to go.  The only difficulty was waiting for a clear day, because I wanted to be able to enjoy the views.

Since I had not seriously ventured off trail since I moved to Washington, I did some Google research on the best route.  Some people headed directly up the ridge from Melakwa Lake, while others went up past the lakes and climbed up the ridge farther along.

Melakwa Lake

When I got to the lake, I started up the ridge, but the trails all seemed to peter out into thickets of brush.  So I headed back down, skirted around the lake, and made my way up the valley.  I was looking for a route up to the ridge when I spotted someone coming down, trying to get my attention.  So I figured this was the right place to ascend, and started heading up.

We met part way up, and stopped for a little chat.  He had come up the ridge, and was now headed back down.  He warned me that the slope would get steeper and steeper, but that I could probably make it.  I thanked him and pressed on upwards.  There was loose talus in various sizes, steep rock gullies, slippery grassy slopes, and impenetrable brush.  I don’t know which one was hardest, but after 1000 feet I was grateful to finally reach the ridge and find an actual footpath.

The ridgetop was delightful walking: suddenly I had views in all directions.  Before long I reached a low spot, where the path dropped a few hundred feet around some cliffs.  All this time I was getting closer and closer to Kaleetan Peak, and it did not appear to be getting any more climbable.  I spotted a party ahead, and I could see they were on a trail of sorts, so I pressed on.  I just figured I would keep going until I could go no further.

Kaleetan Peak

The path kept getting steeper and steeper, until I finally found myself at the bottom of the summit block.  It is steep, but there is a gully with lots of hand and footholds.  I just kept climbing up and up, unable to tell how close to the top I was.  As I was hoisting myself up another ledge, I heard some saying hello just a foot away.  I was on the top!.  There was barely room to sit down, and steep cliffs on all sides, making me feel pretty uneasy.  I crawled over the the edge and peered down, then crawled back to a safer spot to nibble on some lunch.  I was a little clumsy getting the lens cap off, and dropped it.  Off it sailed, a thousand feet down.

Ascent Gully to Kaleetan Peak

The other party on top was occupying the only flat spot, and seemed in no hurry to move on, so I took a few quick pictures and headed back down.  Unfortunately the clouds were moving in so there was no view or Rainier or any other of the distant peaks.  I could see the lookout on Granite Mountain, and over Snoqualmie Pass to the lakes beyond.

On Kaleetan Peak

On the way back I met several other parties coming up, which surprised me because this seemed to me a pretty strenuous hike.  I stayed on the ridge path the whole way back, a far less strenuous way to go.

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PS: Here’s a view from Google Earth.

Kaleetan Peak with GPS Track

Charmed by Rampart Lakes, and fascinated by the heights above, I wanted to go back and climb the ridge to see the view.   Although the weather report said “partly cloudy, 30% chance of rain” I figured that gave me 70% chance of dry weather, so up I went.

My plan was to ascend to the ridge above Rachel Lake, then turn right and ascend the ridge to Alta Peak.  Then I would descend to Lila Lake, camp there, and perhaps climb Rampart Ridge the next day.

As I passed Rachel Lake it started to rain lightly, and as I neared Lila Lake it was coming down pretty hard.  So I decided to set up camp and wait for a break in the weather.  Learning from the previous trip, I brought my tent rather than my hammock, so I could at least set it up and jump inside quickly.  Unfortunately it is not much roomier than the hammock: there was just enough room for my sleeping pad, and I could not really sit up.

Waiting for rain to stop

So I sat in my tent all afternoon, then went out in the rain for a while to make dinner, then went back inside.  It rained all night, and was still raining lightly in the morning.  I had about a pint of water in the tent (I guess it was coming through the walls).  The mountain above was still shrouded in thick clouds, so I decided to just head on home.

Lila Lake

As I descended, the trail got dry in spots, then completely dry.  I wonder if it even rained down at the trailhead.  But I did have a pack full of wet tent, clothing, sleeping bag — everything.

I will have to come back when there is a forecast for clear weather.

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The trailhead parking lot was hot and dusty, almost full of cars, with many parties perparing to hit the trail.  But once I got onto the right trail, it did not seem particularly crowded.  Or maybe I am just getting used to seeing other people on the trail.

Falls at Box Creek

The first part of the trail is really pleasant: cool and green, along the creek, almost flat.  But you can see the end of the flat part approaching.  After a couple of miles the steep climb to Rachel Lake begins, switchbacking up and up.  Finally, and unexpectedly, Rachel Lake appears.  There were already a number of parties camped at the lake, as well as parties stopped there for lunch.  As soon as I sat down to rest, a cool wind sprang up, prompting me to push on.

Rachel Lake

The wall beyond, to Rampart Lakes, looks intimidating, but the climb went surprisingly quickly.  It certainly helps to pass frequent viewpoints, where you can see the shrinking lake below.  Suddenly you are on the ridge above.  The trail divides, one going to Lila Lake and the other to Rampart Lakes.  I got confused and took a third path along the ridge, leading to thick swarms of mosquitos.  It only took me a few minutes to realize this was wrong, and when I got back to the main trail I noticed the sign point to the two lake trails.  Thankfully, the mosquitos were gone.

Rampart Lakes

The hike along the ridge is delightful, passing frequent viewpoints, small meadows, and finally reaching the numerous beautiful lakes and islands of Rampart Lakes.  There were several parties here too, and I faced the additional challenge of finding a place for my hammock because the trees were getting pretty thin and many of them were stunted.  After searching for an hour I set up my hammock, but it was so windy I gave up and kept looking.  Finally I found a place that was a little more sheltered that would do.

Campsite

I had a pleasant dinner, then went to bed.  A few hours later I felt light rain on my face.  I had been hoping to avoid setting up the fly, since it was still pretty windy, but I got up and set up the fly as best I could in the dark.  A while later the rain came in earnest, and I remained dry in my cocoon.  It must have lasted only an hour or two, because by morning the wind had dried my fly.

In the morning, I ate breakfast and packed up, but before heading back I wanted to see how much farther the trail went.  I followed what I took to be the main trail (it is a little hard to tell) past the last lake, and then up the side of the mountain further.  Before long, the trail either disappears, or else heads directly up the steep mountainside, under increasing snow cover.  From this vantage point all I could see was steep slopes, heading up and up, so I turned around and descended.  Later on I looked at the terrain more closely using Google Earth, and I was traces of a trail higher up, near the top of the ridge.  And what a ridge it is: sheer cliffs drop steeply off, with fantastic views.

Rampart Ridge

Next time I must go up to the ridge for the view.  I tell myself, even if I had gone on up to the top there would have been nothing to see, because everything was shrouded in clouds.  But I am determined to return when there is clear weather to see the view from the top.

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I wanted to climb McClellan Butte, but at the last minute I read that the trail was impassible because there is still snow in one of the chutes.  So Granite Mountain was the next best choice.  I am really glad I picked it: the view was fantastic, not only toward Mt Rainier, but in all directions.

I left the trailhead at 8:00 AM, surprised that the parking lot was already half full.  I was prepared for steep, and this was indeed steep.  I was moving along up the trail pretty well, passing parties, but there were a few that passed me.  By 10:30 I met the first of the parties descending: they had left the parking lot at 5:30.

It was a great pleasure to see the first glimpse of Mt Rainier peeking above the opposite valley wall.  It was surprising how quickly it rose higher and higher.  Getting out of the forst into the high meadows felt good, partly because the steepness of the trail moderated and the lookout tower came into view (high above).

I had a choice of going up the unofficial trail up the ridge, or sticking to the main trail to the east.  I kept on the main trail, and I am glad I did so because the meadows and tarns were so beautiful.

High Meadow

I was getting seriously fatigued by the time I got to the final steep slopes, but I kept slogging on.  I finally broke down and sat down to take a sip of water, but when I glanced up I saw I was only 50 yards away from the top.  The tower was open, the ranger was welcoming, and the shade and the breeze made the stay pleasant.  I took the panorama from the tower, then walked over to the true peak for lunch.

In addition to Mt Rainier, I could see another snowy peak in the distance to the south (Mt Adams) and another to the north (Glacier Peak).  I could see the familiar peaks nearby: McClellan Butte, Mt Defiance, Bandera Peak, as well as the unmistakable Kaleetan Peak.

Summit Lookout

The descent was long and dusty, and I was surprised by how many people ware on their way up.  The parking lot was overflowing — cars were parked along the side of the road almost back to the freeway.  It was a good day to be early.

Panorama

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The last time I hiked Fifteenmile Creek, I was stopped at a falls by steep and slippery rocks.  The pictures I made at the time made me feel like a wimp — it did not look that difficult!  And I am noticing that the streams that last month were full and flowing are now dry or mere trickles, so I wanted to give it one more try.

After two weeks without rain, the creek level was a little down.  And this time I was prepared to get wet: I would wade up the streambed if necessary.  I made quick progress up to the “trail junction” where the pink ribbons lead up and out.  My previous efforts at chopping down the jungle of brush definitely paid off, although it was growing back rapidly.

I made good progress up the wild portion of the canyon as well because the slick yellow bedrock was mostly dry: if I am careful I can walk on it.  Wet, it is more slippery than ice, and I cannot even stand up on it.  One waterfall that almost stopped me last time was easy to ascend.  When I finally made it to the big waterfall I climbed to the top cascade, but that one was still impassible.  It is not that it is so steep, it is just soooo slippery.  Besides that, my dogs were not able to get up even the lower cascades, so it looked like even if I could get up, I would have to turn back on their account.

But up near the top I spied what looked like a little trail on the other wall of the canyon, up and around the falls.  So I descended and climbed up the far side.  I did not really find the trail I thought I saw, but nevertheless I pulled myself up the canyon wall by hanging on to ferns and tree roots, getting up to the top of a ridge, where I could descend back to the stream above the falls.

The stream above the falls is more open and less steep, making for easier travel.  I sensed that the railroad trail might be close by, but continued up the streambed.  Eventually I came to a fork: off to the left the canyon was filled with foxglove in bloom: pictures don’t capture the true beauty of the sight.

Up above this fork, the main branch narrows and becomes choked with vegetation, so the only way up is over the moss-covered rocks on the middle of the stream.  I decided this was enough, and headed over to the trail.  It was only a short distance, but in between were the most nasty thorn bushes I have ever hiked through.

I wanted to continue up the trail to see the junction and the actual stream crossing.  I would have missed the junction if not for the dogs: one ran up each trail.  In other words, the trail across the stream was pretty obscure.  After crossing the stream, it ascends the far wall through open forest.  I looked at my map and decided I would make this a loop by following the railroad trail on the other side of the creek.

When I intersected the railbed, I would have missed it if I were not looking at the GPS.  Theis trail, the “15 Mile Railroad Grade” was completely overgrown in many places, with thick brush (including stinging nettles and thorny berry bushes) up to waist level.  In between these spots there were stands of trees, where the trail was quite distinct.  But mostly I was just wading through greenery, trying to stay on the faint remnants of an old rail grade.

By and by the grade intersected with the “foxglove” side canyon.  There must have been a bridge here at one time, but now it was long gone, necessitating a long detour looking for a place to cross the steep ravine.  After I had crossed, I was cautiously making my way along a narrow pathway, engulfed in vegetation, feeling my way along because I could not see my feet.  I put my foot down, tentatively at first, then put my weight on it, when the ground gave way.  I grabbed at the brush, but it all just pulled out and I went tumbling down head over heels, fifteen or twenty feet, into the stream below.  The dogs came down on top of me to see what was the matter: luckily nothing but a few scrapes.  Unfortunately there was no other way out, so I had to repeat the process, this time even more carefully.

The rest of the way back was increasingly more and more of an exercise in thrashing through overgrown nettles and thorn bushes.  I hurried along after noting several large piles of bear scat.  The bear has apparently been feasting on berries.  At one point I followed a faint trail through berry pushes over my head.  It didn’t take long to conclude this was not the right trail.  Now I suspect the bear trampled down that path.  It was a big relief to get back on the road.

Although I am now covered with scratches and sitting is painful (because of a spill I took on the slippery rocks), the journey was worth it all to see the wild part of Fifteenmile creek, and especially the foxglove in bloom.

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Although it can easily be done as a day hike, I wanted to explore the territory around Pratt Lake and spend the night.

I was planning to go Saturday afternoon and return Sunday, but the weather Saturday morning was cloudy and cool.  Since it was a three day weekend, I decided to go Sunday instead, returning Monday.  Saturday afternoon turned out lovely, but it was too late.  Sunday was more promising, but by the time I got on the trail it began to rain, and the rain continued all night and into the next day, so I definitely mis-called this one.

On the way up to Talalapus and Olallie I saw only people retreating to their cars.  The miles passed quickly, even though I was wrapped in fog and could not see anything.  I crossed the ridge into Pratt Basin, and descended toward the lake.  As I caught sight of the lake it started raining much harder, so I decided to set my hammock up in a flat spot off a ways off the trail.  I found two suitable trees, covered up my pack, and slipped in to the hammock at 9:00.

Pratt Lake

I had no trouble dozing off, but I kept being awakened by giant drops of water hitting my face.  For some reason the tent fly left a little corner uncovered, depending on how I was perched in the hammock.  The rain made quite a racket all night, and I never really escaped the dripping.  And the hammock catches everything that drips into it, pooling it at the low spot.  So by the morning, the sleeping bag was pretty wet underneath.

I kept waking up every hour, observing the first glimmer of dawn at 5:00 AM, then real light at 6:00.  I thought of getting up and moving out, but by now the rain was stopping, so I dozed off again.  I awoke again at 8:00 to see two runners flash by on the trail.  Still unmotivated to get up, I dozed off again until 10:00.  The best parts of using a hammock are:

1. it is quick and easy to find a place to stay, anywhere, and
2. it is so comfortable to sleep in.

Pratt Lake Basin

For some reason I was not motivated to return to see Pratt Lake, so I returned up the trail, and then over to Rainbow Lake.  The last half mile to the lake was mostly across snow, but I found a nice place by the lake to set up my stove and cook lunch.  The clouds still enveloped the surrounding peaks, so no views.  I considered exploring Island Lake, but left that for another trip.

Rainbow Lake

The return from Rainbow Lake was pretty muddy, after a night of rain.  There were more parties headed up than I could count.  When I got back to the parking lot, cars were parked a long ways down the side of the road.  Popular day hike, but secluded at night.

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I returned to Fifteenmile creek in the sunlight, so that I could more fully enjoy it (see previous trip).  I had two objectives: to use a pair of clippers to clear away some of the thorns and brush from the overgrown section of the trail, and to explore beyond the turnoff point I had reached last time.

I started early, and had the trail to myself.  I made slow progress since there was a lot to chop down.  I tried to do as thorough a job as I had the patience for.  I could see that most of the brush had previously been trimmed about where I was cutting it: I wonder how many years it took the trail to grow in?  Although it was not raining, everything was wet anyway.  I think the canyon is so steep it rarely gets enough sun to dry out.

Giant Lump of Coal

The trail is washed out, having cut into the side wall forming a cliff.  The only way is down, across the creek, across again, and back up.  The stream follows a yellow band of very slippery, smooth rock, making it hard to get any traction.  I managed to fall step in over my ankle at the first crossing, soaking one shoe and sock.  Oh well, press on.

Slowly I progressed up the trail, until suddenly I was at the turnoff.  The way forward, after the immediate narrow V was passed, was along the stream bottom.  I was able to put away the clippers — good thing since I had developed a painful blister on my ring finger.  At first I tried to cross on the rocks, but after falling in a few times and getting thoroughly wet up to the knees I stopped trying and just stepped in the water when I needed to.  The stream continued to flow over very slippery , very smoothly polished rock, and footing was often best in the stream bed itself.

Canyon Floor

We came to a series of waterfalls and narrow sections, what required a little scrambling.  Danny needed help a few times, but overall he was very skilled at getting himself up the stream.  Eventually we came to a waterfall that just looked impossible.   Looking at the picture now it doesn’t look at all head, and it wouldn’t be if there was any traction on the smooth stone.  I was able to backtrack a little ways and find a way up the hillside.  I was tempted to try to descend back down to the stream bed above the falls, but time was running short and I needed to get back.  So I continued on up the hill until I met the railroad bed trail.  About half way up to the trail I ran across a little section that had been marked with orange flags.  I could not figure out where it was heading, and did not succeed in following it very far.  Maybe it was heading back the creek.  Something to check out next time.

Upper Falls

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