Northward

by Eric Schumacher

Three hours north-east of Seattle lies a backpacking gem for those who want to tap into gorgeous peaks and rugged wilderness.

When our friends from Seattle invited us to Washington's Cascade Mountains for a July backpacking weekend, my wife and I jumped at the chance. Natives of Los Angeles, we were eager to swap the chaos of our city for the solitude of mountains. Besides, we had backpacked through California's Sierra, Sequoias and San Bernardino mountains many times, but had never backpacked in the Pacific Northwest. The prospect of visiting new territory thrilled us.

Our destination lay three hours from downtown Seattle: a one-hour drive north on Interstate 5 followed by a two-hour drive east on State Route 20 through the North Cascades National Park. It was here, in the rugged surroundings of the North Cascades, that we began to get a sense of what we were in for.

The Cascade Mountains stretch 500 miles from Mount Shasta in California to Frasier River in British Columbia. The range is distinguished by glacial peaks that are as awesome in sight as they are intimidating in name (Mount Fury, Forbidden Peak, Mount Torment to name a few.). At the heart of the Cascade Mountains is the North Cascades National Park. This is no bus-tour park. There are no interpretive plaques here, or well-known attractions that draw busloads of camera-clad tourists. There is only the natural beauty of towering mountains, deep gorges, glacial lakes, snaking rivers, majestic cedars and a host of other breathtaking wonders. This is still a place where one could get away from it all and connect with something unspoiled, breathtaking and fresh.

A short drive along Granite Creek took us beyond the national park and landed us at Rainy Pass trailhead (4,860 ft.). While the trail (which is part of the Pacific Crest Trail) is officially in the neighboring Okanogan National Forest, it climbs into mountains that are all part of the Cascade range.

Jagged peaks towered above us as we donned our packs and began our ascent through lowland forests populated by red-cedar, hemlock and Douglas fir. The tree line fell away at about 6,000 feet. Here, granite and multi-colored heather offered a diverse, if not equally enchanting, hike toward our destination at Cutthroat Pass (6,800 ft.). Once reached, Cutthroat Pass provided a 360-degree view of the Cascade Mountain's snow-capped peaks. Unlike the more rounded mountains of the Sierra, these young mountains jutted toward the sky in row after row of sharp, saw teeth. It was here, in view of this mountainous sea, that I began to understand why people called this the "American Alps".

Backpacking here is safe, but due to the rugged features of this terrain, it is not easy. Trails were well-marked, wide and often shaded by heavily timbered slopes. While beautiful, these trails were not without their challenges. The 5.5 mile trail to Cutthroat Pass was not particularly steep, but it did offer elements that beginning backpackers might find trying, such as three wide, fast-flowing streams that required balancing acts on logs and rocks to cross.

In the higher regions of these mountains, I found the Pacific Crest Trail more treacherous, often reminding me of something out of The Hobbit. Wide enough for one person only, it barely clung to the steep ridges. Sun-exposed, loosely packed and sometimes shale-covered, we were forced to pay more heed than normal.

The vistas that we enjoyed along the way, and the rugged beauty of the landscape, made the hikes well worth the challenge. Below every trail, pine-carpeted valleys snaked away from us in the ancient design of glacial movement. Pools and lakes shimmered in the breeze, inviting us to cool ourselves in their chilly waters. All around us, sheer granite cliffs fell hundreds of feet to high, mountain meadows and mantles of snow.

As enticing as the terrain can be, the weather in this region can often be foul. Thankfully, we were blessed with sunshine for our entire trip. The mid-July days provided enough warmth to hike in light clothing. The evenings were chilly, but not unbearably cold. That said, check the weather reports before you go, and pack a tent and foul-weather gear just in case. Rain has been known to fall in this area from September through early July. The western edge of these mountains can receive up to 110 inches of rain, and as much as 46 feet of snow!

When we were there, the snow was still melting in certain places. While it rewarded us with flowing streams and beautiful blue-green lakes, we did find spots where the ground was still wet and the mosquitoes plentiful. I found the mosquitoes here particularly aggressive, and more than capable of penetrating my thick fleece. So be sure to bring your repellant - you will not be sorry you did so.

Weather is not the only reason to venture here in mid-July. The sun doesn't set until 9pm. This allowed us to make a leisurely drive from Seattle to the trailhead, climb the trail, pitch our tents, cook our dinner and relax to a gorgeous sunset with time to spare.

Solitude was another attribute that struck me about this region. Whether born of its sheer vastness or the volume of options it offers, there was a quietude here that I thoroughly enjoyed. Over 360 miles of maintained trails line the peaks and valleys of these mountains. To the east, west and south, other national forests offer winter sports, hunting, fishing, camping, horseback riding and a host of other activities. It is no wonder that even in the area's busiest season we saw only 3 other backpackers and 2 bikers on our 3-day journey.

Sadly, the third day brought an end to our trip. Well-rested and rejuvenated, we hiked back to the car, said our good-byes to the wondrous scenery and headed back down the highway toward Seattle. As we did, we vowed that some day soon we would return to the wonder of the North Cascades.

About the Author

Eric Schumacher is an avid backpacker and skier with a passion for writing. He resides in Los Angeles with his wife and dog.