Going Full Circle
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Blueberries on the way to Upper Anderson Tarn
In 2006, I made a crossing of the Ptarmigan Traverse – over 100 miles of ridges, rivers, glaciers, and roads – with a self-propelled return. Since then, this type of adventure has appealed to me. It combines several of the sports I love, and when you are transported at more humanly paces – not by auto, train or plane – you get to ‘smell the roses’. It’s like eating cake and ice cream, too!
The North Cascade traverse from Mount Watson to Blum appeared perfect for this sort of outing. With my kayak, bike and hiking gear crammed into my car and my last few dollars into its gas tank, I headed into the mountains.
My little brother, Jessy, joined me and we let gear at the end of Baker Lake Road and Baker Lake before arriving at our final destination, the Watson Lake Trailhead. Josh and Christy joined us for the day. Except for the bike ride back up to Watson, Jessy would keep me company for the next 9 days.
Day One and Two: Watson Trailhead to Diobsud Lakes
Mt. Baker from our camp below Watson's summit.
A nice trail for the first 2 miles was the last we’d see for a week. We explored the area heading to Upper Anderson Lakes and the lower slopes of Mount Watson. The way forward captivated us. Since we couldn’t imagine leaving the high country for Diobsud Lakes, we soon found camp. That night we watched as bright stars tumbled out from behind dark mountains.
Morning sun and clouds rose long before we did. With curious glances ahead, our eyes met sloping heather fields nestled below cliffs and sights of Diobsud Lakes.
We dropped into a huge meadow of Fireweed, Daisy’s, Salmon Berries and Cow Parsnip’s. After a rest, we proceeded up the wrong side of a waterfall toward a ramp on the south side of Bacon Peak. For several hours we struggled through grizzled, arthritic hunks of trees more dead than alive and masqueraded ourselves as tree huggers between cliffs before submitting defeat. Scratched and bruised we arrived below the waterfall once more.
After camp was set, Jessy and I left split up to find a way up Bacon Peak. Just before dark Jessy burst out from the brush. He had found a way. Two smiles were shared before it began to rain. The tap, tap on the tent at bedtime left me ill-at-ease. As good luck eventually follows bad, I dreamt of blue skies.
Day Three and Four: Diobsud Lakes, Bacon and Green lakes to Nert Lake
Coming down Bacon Peak
My dreams weren’t ignored. Under blue skies, over huge logs and small cliffs, beyond steep, slick heather, up further we climbed to the top of Bacon. At the summit, views of the Pickets and all the mountains between hoisted our desire to see what was around the next corner. We wound our way through a few glaciers and ridges before finally descending hard ice to smooth rock slabs.
First sights of Bacon Laken set above Green Lake kept us moving fast. We ran down the last rock fields to the outlet falls of the lake. Fording the falls was easy enough, although more water would be challenging.
Camp was set as light eased into a peaceful slumber. Under the moon’s scope, the waterfall and lake were inebriated, moving in slow motion like the stars.
The next morning rain came again. The cerulean outlines of Green Lake pleaded with us to come explore and to our dismay, we packed camp and set off. We went along the lake shore thinking it would be easier than the ridge. Easy ground morphed into a waterfall, the climbing of which was fast becoming a forte of ours, and traversed mid-falls on a ledge to enter slide alder.
Green Lake with lumbering clouds overhead.
We climbed steep then gentle slopes to Nert Lake. Our progress was subverted by never ending fields of the biggest blueberries I’ve ever seen. Blue fingers and faces brought us to camp.
Day Five through Seven: Nert Lake, Berdeen and Blum Lakes to Baker River
The way to Berdeen Lake either goes high or low. We went low entering a beautiful valley just as a black bear crossed boulders in the midst of a waterfall.
From the meadow we climbed up a steep gully to Berdeen Lake. With our exploring done, we we struck camp with time to relax. For Jessy this meant a swim to an island and fishing. For me, a nap and photos.
In the morning, we regretted having to leave. We traversed rock and then glacier up to a narrow pass between Skitzo and Hagan Peaks. A quick jaunt to Hagan was much enjoyed. Nearly all that we had crossed in the days previous could be sighted.
A heck of a place to take a nap. Berdeen Lake
Steep boulder fields were carefully crossed on our downward hike to Blum Lakes. We made camp in a grassy field and spent the remaining hours watching the fire and smoke from blazes to the Northeast.
I’ve been up and down from Mount Blum twice and the experience was less than enticing. Over 5000-ft of forest and bushes split by cliffs. The descent can reward excessive amounts of suck. It’s best to stay on the ridge. If you descend off of it, you become blocked by steep ravines full of slide alder and rocks. Jessy and I spent 7 hours descending less than 2 miles.
More steep forest led to vague boot paths. Bashing our way through the last remaining Devil’s Club, we arrived at Baker River. Feeling like warriors, we marched to the car, eyes sparkling in the late day’s sun with satisfaction over completing what we had set out to do.
Day Eight and Nine: Baker River, Baker Lake to Watson Road and Trailhead
Chilled waters high from the mountains all meet in Baker Lake. Once a natural lake, the river was dammed twice in 1925 and 1959 to create Lake Shannon and Baker. As promised, my twin brother Josh joined us. Cramming our gear into boats and dry packs was a challenge as we were sparing no comforts.
Though the river isn’t long, there were plenty of massive trees to slow us down. Over and under we went until we arrived at the lake. Far above Shuksan and Baker’s glaciers shined in the sun.
Jessy and Josh kayaking past a massive tarn. Mt. Baker in the distance.
Halfway to camp we stopped for several seal launches. Jessy and Josh couldn’t get enough and found another spot a few more miles down the shore.
The last few hours to Maple Grove Camp were spent battling the wind of whose presence I’d earlier said, “At least we don’t have a headwind.” Now that we did, the brothers could only blame me. We were relieved to pull our boats onto the shore.
The last day was both sad and happy for me. With so much adventure this year, it was hard to see this one come to pass and be finished. What else was there? No more big trips were planned. This was it. Parting ways, Jessy and Josh jumped in their car and I was on my own now, at least no human companions. The mosquitoes were ruthless as I climbed into the bushes to retrieve my bike.
Around 3700-ft of vertical gain was ahead of me and 10 miles of road. Far below me the blue waters of Baker Lake appeared small.
At the car, heart pounding, I sat not wanting to leave. Could I do it again? Could I throw my pack on and put foot to trail, paddle to lake, and cleat to peddle? Would it be the same? You only live through these days once and they are gone. As my mind raced over every moment I knew I’d certainly smelled the roses along the way. I’d gone full circle and isn’t it the best of journey’s that bring you back to their beginning?
Read more stories by Jason on Cascade Crusades and check out more of his incredible photos at Alpine State of Mind.
