By Kelly Sanderbeck, Donor Development Manager
Three days before our 30-mile backpack off Ross Lake, we arrived at North Cascades Institute with the idea to tackle some tough day hikes in preparation. But the heat and the haze brought out our lazy bones, so we spent time relaxing in the library, playing Bananagrams, and taking dips in 50-degree Diablo Lake. With the vertical cliffs masked from 100+ fires raging in BC, visitors were pounding the rangers for answers: “When will it clear? What’s the prediction? Where can we go to get views?” Shrugs and smiles.
Let me start by saying that I’m not a diehard backpacker. MY idea of perfection is a good hard day hike, followed by a bath and a bed. But, I’m up for adventure and exploring new options, especially as empty nestdom looms. We started by hiking one mile down to Ross Lake, and catching the ferry that took us 15 miles uplake. After passing some boy scouts on their kayaks and a few rangers, we saw NO ONE for four days. What strikes me most about backpacking – aside from the obvious quiet and solitude – is the mystery that’s missing from most of our google-able lives. I could read trip reports in advance and know that several streams needed to be crossed via logs. What I couldn’t know until I got there was how wide they were, how high they were, how slippery they were. We ended up fording a few creeks, wavering with our packs and wobbling with the fast current, as it just felt more safe. Sometimes we’d crawl under a fallen tree to find – nothing; no trail. Only after bushwhacking a bit or walking 10 feet to the end of the log would we find it.
And BUGS! I’m not a DEETster, and my citronella-based lotion did nothing for the creatures. Mosquitoes and black flies forced me to attempt a Zen practice of walking into the pain, or heed Dr. Beth’s recommendation not to scratch for 20 minutes. I’m obviously nowhere near enlightenment, as the bites kept coming and I kept scratching — with deep satisfaction. I did manage to forget the critters after immersion in an icy creek. Joy, joy to my throbbing feet and gritty body! The itching was gone. Or maybe I was just numb.
Our food was great, as nearly anything tastes good after a hike. The best was fresh huckleberries in our oatmeal for breakfast, and peanut M&Ms before dinner. I did make a huge mistake, though. Wouldn’t it be a great treat to have some smoked salmon on crackers for lunch one day? The lox I imagined turned out to be greasy, messy and SMELLY! We immediately went into bear-panic mode, washing everything within reach, and transferred the reeking bag to our odor-proof container. Still, I couldn’t get the smell out of my nose for the rest of the day…
How satisfied and proud we were, limping into our last camp spot (with private beach) after four days. Despite aching hips and throbbing knees, I became 12 again jumping into the turquoise of Ross Lake, ravens circling. I didn’t climb Mount Rainier, or scale a 5,000 foot rock face, but this was a challenge for me. It pushed my limits of discomfort, stretched my idea of a good time, and held up a mirror to my first-world whining. The 10-foot diameter cedars, Douglas firs and hemlocks whispered an almost unbearable beauty. The silence, intermingled with chaos and decay, posed an odd symmetry. The jaunt was absolutely exquisite. Next year we’ll explore Olympic, but now I’m looking to burgers, beers and a bath…
Itinerary:
Day 1: Perry Creek Camp, 4.5 mile
Day 2: Stillwell Camp, 6.5 miles
Day 3: 39 Mile Creek Camp, 10.5 miles
Day 4: Pumpkin Mountain Camp, 5.5 miles