Nothing like having miles and miles of trail to yourselves! Hubby and I decided to take our packs out for a test drive this weekend. Snow levels are still somewhat limiting so we headed for North Cascades Nat'l Park. The trail was in great condition and there was a trail crew making it even better throughout the weekend. We headed out Saturday morning from trailhead and hiked 12.4 miles up to Devils Creek campground. Our permit was for two nights in the hiker camp which is up on a rock outcrop a hundred feet or so above the lake and we were the only ones around. Weather was cloudy and humid with the occasional shower. The clouds kissed the peaks all weekend and just teased us with the occasional view. On Sunday we day-hiked 4 miles up to Lightning Creek. We met another Canadian couple who had hiked in from the North entrance. They said it was a bit creepy going through the valley on the East side of Desolation Peak and that there were lots of signs of bears. They also warned us about finding ticks on themselves so we made sure to do some regular tick checks. Besides the trail crew, we only met 7 other people overnighting along the lake. I expect it will be a fair bit busier next weekend!

This trail is also known as Ruby Creek Trail. Which goes along Ruby Creek until you reach Ross Lake. It was a nice day out, a little windy when we reached the lake. Saw wildflowers and deer along the trail. This trail use to be an old road way before SR 20 was ever built and back when there were mines. Lots of history up here. There were about half dozen small steam crossings, but very easy to get across. Although waterproof boots are very helpful.

We hiked from the East Bank TH to our reserved camp at Rainbow Point and out the same route the next day. Trail is in excellent condition and appears to be freshly logged-out and repaired. The biggest obstacles are the stream crossings, however, these typically weren't more than a foot wetter which would result in wet feet if you don't have waterproof boots. Roland Creek in particular required a knee deep ford that was not technically difficult besides being cold. May Creek's footlog is missing a big part of the handrail. There is low brush much of the trail, below knee-- oregon grape, nookta rose, sword ferns... sharper leaves...we ended up keeping our pants rolled down because of the brush poking us. We'd wear gaiters if it was wet because your pants would get soaked. We checked out all the camp areas along the trail. Roland Creek was buggy with big mosquitoes ready to pounce on us. May Creek area was pleasant with lovely green moss in the forest-- other than the dirty outhouse seat at the boat camp. Views were lovely from May Creek and Rainbow Point. The water level is low so not all the docks we could see were in the water yet. Rainbow Point had a stiff breeze that kept us bug free the whole time we camped. The deer weren't shy at Rainbow Point and were less than 10 feet from us.

With Fridays reopening of the North Cascades Highway, we wanted some of that areas fresh wilderness air and a trail to refresh our hiking legs, but was below the snow line. East Bank Trail fit the bill. This trail has several minor creek crossings. After dropping 200 ft from the parking lot located between mileposts 138 and 139 on Highway 20, it crosses Ruby Creek, where you come to a junction. Turning left the trail gains 900 feet in 6.8 RT to Hidden Hand, with its beautiful vistas of Ross Lake and Sourdough Mountain. It was our turn around point but the trail does continue on to Desolation Peak. The trail was mostly duff with some blow downs. We saw no others.

This four day romp into the high country of the Pasayaten turned into a bigger adventure that we initially anticipated. The plan was to hike the Jackita Ridge-Devil's Dome Loop over the course of four days, starting at the Canyon Creek TH, and camping at Devil's Park, the summit of Devil's Dome, and Rainbow Point on Ross Lake. The high country views, the starry nights at the height of the Perseid shower, a relaxing day by the lake....what could go wrong? Things started out pretty much as per plan. My hiking buddy and I made the drive up to the North Cascades WIC in Marblemount to secure the required permit for Rainbow Point. Though still relatively early in the morning, it was already feeling toasty. Thence to the trailhead, where we hoisted packs and set forth in high spirits. A thick, smoky haze from the wildfires pervaded, and firebombers regularly flew up and down the valley, apparently tanking up at Ross Lake. The extent to which Lucifer occupied the minds of whomever named the geographical and geological features of this area has been noted by many. Suffice it to say, though, you don't really appreciate why until you start up the steep climb out of Canyon Creek with full multi-night packs on a blisteringly hot day. The trail is truly diabolical; whenever it changes elevation, which it does often, it has a predilection for doing so in a truly brutal way. The trail and the heat sapped our energy rapidly as we climbed. By the time we hit three miles, it felt like we had traveled three times that. Eventually, the trail moderated and led us into the delightful McMillan Park. The views of Crater Mountain were slightly obfuscated in the smoky haze, but still nice. This would be a really nice place to camp. But we had lofiter goals, so after a brief rest, we continued toward Devil's Park. Our energy and water began to run low, and we found ourselves longing for the comforts of McMillan Park. Encountering a campsite, we stopped for another rest. I search a bit for a water course, but found none....if I had we probably would have stopped there. We were tired enough at that point that we agreed to camp at the first site we came to after finding water. To our astonishment, another five minutes or less up the trail and we suddenly happened upon Devil's Park shelter. We had reached our goal for the night! We found a site, set up camp, and pumped water, water, water. Oh, how nice. As my one "luxury" item for the trip, I had packed my Eno Sub7 hammock, with the intent of relaxing in it at camp at night. Well, I was so zapped at that point that I did not want to invest the minimal energy require to set it up that night! We turned in early that night. We both noted the sounds of a large mammal outside the tent in the middle of the night, which we decided was a deer. We decided it was a deer, not because of any compelling evidence, but because the thought of it having been a bear was discomforting. Also, some heavy rain fell at some point during the night, though the parched ground must have soaked it up, because it was still bone dry when I clambered out of the tent in the morning. On exiting the tent, I found the haze still remained and that a slight change in wind brought a slight smoky smell to camp. I also took note of thunderclouds passing to the east, though it looked like they would leave us alone. I thought. We had breakfast, broke camp, and struck out under sunny, albeit filtered through smoke, skies. A good night's rest had reinvigorated both us us substantially, though this time we moved slower as we made the climb up to Jackita Ridge. Jack Mountain came into view, enlivening the scene. It was a little shocking to see the vegetation, already drying up, taking on fall colours, dying. The reds and the golds would have lead me to think it was mid-September! This was to be a roller coaster day, up and down and up and down, as we worked our way towards Devil's Pass. We had done at least two ups and a down when we came around the prow of a ridge and began the final major descent of the day into the North Fork Devil's Creek drainage. This is when things changed, and quickly. The thunderclouds, which had dissipated early in the morning, reappeared to the east, but the skies overhead and everywhere else were still clear, so there wasn't much cause for worry. But the clouds closed in as we descended, and before we had covered a half mile, light rain started. About 5 minutes later, the first thunderclaps. Then the drenching rain. We were switchbacking down some open slopes, and thus pushed on fast and hard until we reached some decent tree cover just before the N. Fork crossing. Here we hunkered down as the valley resounded with booming thunder and buckets of water were loosed from the sky. Ever now and then, the fury of the storm would subside, and we would think about getting going again, only have our minds changed by another deafening rumble being unleashed from above, echoing all around, encompassing us as the sound repeatedly bounced off the canyon walls. It was at least an hour before the electrical storm moved off, leaving consistent rain in its path. We hoisted packs again, crossed the crreek, and started the climb up the opposite side. Knowing that water might not be available again until past Devil's Dome, we climbed a bit, found a good point to access the creek, and pumped water. The rain was fairly light when I started to pump, but quickly intensified. I filled my companion's water, and got mine about half filled before the rain became so hard, and I was so wet and miserable that I knocked it off. We sheltered under a tree for a few minutes and then kept climbing. We were pretty thoroughly dispirited when we reached the campsite were the trail pulls away from the creek. We debated the relative merit of setting up camp there (meaning that we would have to turn around the next day, since we were well short of the halfway point), or to keep going. After much debate, we decided to push on to Devil's Pass and camp there. This would leave our options open for the rest of the trip. Completing the loop would require a 15 mile day to recover schedule, but would be do-able. We would re-evaluate in the morning whether to push on or turn back. Wet and miserable isn't the right description of the figures who arrived at Devil's Pass that night. Waterlogged and numb is probably more apt. Rain was still dripping as we employed a fly-first tent setup procedure. Tent up and gear stowed where it could stay as dry as possible, we turned our attention to dinner. The rain finally took a break as we ate. Subsequently, nourished, and longing to be warm and dry, I immediatey dove into my sleeping bag, not to reemerge until morning. Rain fell on and off during the night, but the morning was dry, though still cloudy. After lengthy consultation, we decided to continue on the 15 or so miles to Rainbow Point. We also agreed attempt to lop off some miles by seeking out water transportation on reaching Devil's Junction Camp, if there was any to be had (begged, borrowed, or stolen...well, not stolen). Clouds prevailed and views were obscured as we hiked the long ridge up to Devil's Dome. Though not raining, the rain-soaked foilage drenched us just as sure. What as to have been the high point of the trip, the summit of Devil's Dome, turned out to be a non-event as there was nothing to see. Thence we went down. Down. Down. Recent trailwork had cleared a massive number of down trees, making the way easily passable. At some point we ran out of water, and stopped to refill. Just like the previous day, the skies began to precipitate wildly as I pumped! Ugh. Full of water, in every concievable sense of the phrase, we continued. Fortunately, we soon entered deep forest canopy, which provide protection from the rain. The descent was actually fairly interesting, at least from a local scenery point-of-view. Alpine meadows gave way to subapline forests, then to thick lowland forests. Each change in ecosystem was startlingly abrupt. Plant species would abound, and then vanish completely and be totally replaced by another, all over the course of just a few step. The change was as complete and definite as if you stepped from one exhibit in a museum to another. The rain and the mileage weren't so delightful, though, and neither of us savored the prospect of spending another night completely soaked. Our water transportation hopes evolved...instead of shortcutting a few miles, we'd try to get as close to the trailhead as possible...maybe Hidden Hand, and get out of the woods that very day, if possible. It wasn't to be, though (whether that is good or bad depends on how close to the actual event you place yourself). No boats were to found stopped at Devil's Junction, no parties waiting for the water taxi, and only one boat visible on the lake, already far north and getting farther away. The rain had finally stopped as we girded ourselves for another four (mercifully flat) miles to Rainbow Point. Finally, things started going better. The rain was done. The skies were clearing. The sun poked through. We arrived at came quicker than we ever expected. It was still early afternoon, so we had time to set up camp and clotheslines to dry clothes, pump water, and sack out on the dock or shore. And I finally got to set up my hammock, where I laid in deep repose for a good, long time. Memories of the wet night, the slog on the ridge, the miles, every toil and hardship subsided and the good life returned. It was almost too civilized. The camp had a picnic table and tent pad and bear bins...such luxury! What's this? Sunshine! Warmth. It turned into a great evening. Sun abounded on our final day. Our gear had dried. The vegetation surrounding the trail had shed its water and no long increased our misery as we passed. The smoky haze had been washed away (though fires still burnt, including one directly across the lake from Rainbow Point). Our packs, now largely empty of comsumables, were light. All was right. Statistically, the climb over Hidden Hand Pass and the ups and downs along Canyon Creek were nothing compared to what we had already down, though to our tired legs, they presented a larger than normal challenge. Didn't matter, we were headed home. Miles passed. Soon the lakeshore was left behind. The sound of the highway across the valley filled the air. The glimmer of car windshields. The bridge across the creek. The car. The drive home. Done. I want to go back.