This excursion had three goals: test out some new gear, dry out my waterlogged bones, and see if the dog would be amenable to ‘roughing’ it, leaving her myriad of plush city beds behind for a night.
Ancient Lakes is purported to be one of the driest spots in all of Washington. Sounds like just what I’m looking for. We pack up and head out early Sunday afternoon, leaving the wife an evening of utter peace.
It’s partly sunny at the trailhead when we arrive. Part of the sun is better than nothing. There is a severe lack of signage, like none, so we just follow in reverse the hikers returning to their cars. The trail is wide and flat, very different from the steep and rocky trails I usually frequent in the Cascades. A nice change of pace. As paths are aplenty in this desert environment, we follow the one that hugs the toe of the slope; basalt cliffs towering above us.
It’s not long before we reach the trail’s namesake lakes. We pass a couple other campers who’ve claimed their territory. Our destination was just up the hill. With crumbling basalt cliffs in front of us and a lake on either side, we had found our spot. Oh, and did I mention the fabulous waterfall roaring down the cliff? In a rare instance of genius, I arranged the tent window with a perfect view of this cascading beauty.
With camp all set up, it happens. The winds whip up and the rain begins falling. Doh!! I grab the dog and make for the shelter of the tent. Though the dog is not enthused about coming inside, she reluctantly concedes it’s better than staying outside. Because of that genius foresight previously mentioned, I am quite content waiting out the storm as I watch and listen to the tumbling falls.
Calls of red-winged blackbirds signal the end of the storm. 15 minutes later, everything is as dry as if the rain was but a dream. Ah, an unseen benefit of dry, desert air. We eat dinner and explore until darkness prevails. It’s not as restful a night as I would have liked, as the dog isn’t completely happy with her sleeping arrangements, but her tired eyes eventually concede to gravity and we sleep.
The morning is quiet and still, until the big honkers fly in. Did I mention the big surprise? A couple Canada geese have found their way to these ancient lakes and apparently have chosen to stick around. Surprised me at least. They fly around, chase each other from lake to lake, and generally chill out on the cliffs. Fun to watch, but need to be taught about the idea of morning quiet hours.
All packed up and fed, we head out, proceeding forward toward Dusty Lake and beyond. Truth is, I’m not sure exactly where we’re headed and the map I have is of minimal use in this terrain of spider-webbing trails. Fortunately, it’s almost impossible to get lost as you can usually see where you eventually need to be simply by looking across the valley.
The sagebrush is green with new leaves. The grasses are lush. Wildflowers pop up here and there. I even spot mushrooms now and then. The only brown to be seen are the rising cliffs and the trail ahead. This winter has been so wet that the desert is alive with color. It’s a different beauty from the verdant forests of the west, but beautiful it is. Disclaimer: being from the Sonoran Desert of AZ, I’ve always appreciated the beauty of the desert. It’s not for everyone, but for me, it’s my second home.
We hike all morning, taking in the sights and sounds. Birds flittering down low and soaring high above. I know the ravens, eagles and magpies, but most of the smaller birds I’m unfamiliar with. I will remedy that one day. The basalt cliffs, created by the contrasting forces of volcanoes and ice sheets loom high all around. Millions of years of geology in front of our eyes.
We find our way to Dusty Lake and beyond, just enjoying the solitude this place has afforded us on this day. It’s not exactly the sunniest of days today, but it’s not raining either. We’re just happy to be here.
Amateur photo tip: When choosing which camera to take with you on any adventure, be sure not to leave the SD card in your other camera.
The end.

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