Kendall KatwalkThis is a 12-mile hike that I took in October 1999 shortly after my shoulder injury, to a couple of very picturesque mountain lakes. The morning arrived cool, crisp and clear for the first time in several weeks. As I drove east along I-90, viewing the familiar peaks bordering the highway, my anticipation for this hike grew like the mountains stretched out before me. Since I injured myself several months ago, venturing out again alone, I was a bit nervous. The leg muscles still felt tight and I wondered if I would begin to feel the pain intensify as I went further into the forest. I've been on the trail before, hiking up to and including the scramble to the Kendall Peak summit. However, I've never ventured past this to see the famous Kendall Katwalk, which crosses a ridge leading further into the Alpine Lakes Wilderness, heading north toward Stevens Pass, some 70 miles away. Within an hour after the sunrise, I was at a main parking lot of the Pacific Crest Trail (PCT), a hiking path that winds from the U.S./Canadian border in the north, to the U.S./Mexican border to the south. Since this is a Monday, I didn't expect many cars at the trailhead, and was not surprised to see only two. I park my truck, put on my boots, fill out the trail pass and I'm on my way. The elevation at the beginning of this hike is near 2500 feet, with a high point of 5400 feet, totaling a round trip distance of about 10-1/2 miles trip to the Katwalk. My plan is to hike for about 3 to 4 hours before turning around and heading back, regardless of where I am on the trail. In doing so, I can be assured of returning while still daylight. The PCT starts off in a nice alpine forest, cool and moist. The path gently rises and winds through many types of evergreen and deciduous trees amid few switchbacks, and across several small creeks. The temperature hovers just above freezing, creating clouds of vapor float by with each breath. I love this time of year and varying unpredictability of the weather. I'd much rather hike in cool to cold weather than in the heat, and this day was beginning with the perfect blend. The sun, being low on the horizon, doesn't quite warm the air or the ground. Dew covers the bushes and the low shrubs, highlighting the handiwork of the spiders from the night before. The well-traveled path, usually dry and dusty in the summer months, now is damp and reveals the frozen imprints of other hikers days ago. A rich earthy, musty aroma permeates the air, smelling clean and fresh. This combination of crisp, cool air and smooth trail invigorates me and I find that my pace is quickened. As I move through the basin, slowly gaining altitude, shadows still fill the forest with the sun straining to find the ground. Once I start hiking, I don't often stop unless absolutely necessary. But I do try to notice the things around me. I'm aware of the changes in vegetation zones and the forest sounds competing with the highway sounds as I gradually move further into the woods. At one point, I notice a single mushroom uprooted and lying on the side of the trail. I stop, pick it up and replant it in the softer soil along the creek I just crossed. Eventually I am rewarded with my first glimpse of the surrounding mountains when, off to my left, the steep rise of Guye Peak's 'South Rib' emerges above the tree line and into the sky. Guye is and interesting peak because its appearance is very different, depending on the perspective from which it is viewed. From this angle, Guye appears as a steep, narrow promontory, sparsely decorated with trees fighting for purchase amid the cracks and fissures. The opposite side, the West Face, is quite different. On this side, a large, wide rock face dominates the entrance to Snoqualmie Pass. Only a few lines of stubby trees live along the narrow ledges, leading to the summit. This is the rock face that climbers choose when attempting to scale Guye Peak. The forest continues like this for some time, and views of the mountains are sparse. The last view before rising above the forest line is of Red Mountain as the morning sun illuminates and slowly moves down and into the valley below. I almost always stop momentarily at this spot and look out at Red, which dominates the far end of the valley. The red color and triangular shape, accented by the deep shadows of the morning sun, contrast nicely against the many green hued trees. Moving on, the trail soon passes a favorite spot. In the summer months a steady flow of water cascades from high above and falls directly onto this rocky segment of trail. The water splashes all about and onto the trail, making the footing slippery. In the winter, this waterfall becomes a beautiful moving ice sculpture. The water on the bushes freeze and hang over the trail creating a tunnel through which to travel, while attempting to keep from slipping on the icy rocks. After the falls, and 2.5 miles into the hike, the trail splits offering two choices. The lower leads into the Commonwealth Basin and eventually to Red Mountain. The upper trail leads to the PCT, and to Kendall Peak - the direction I'm heading. One of the games I play while traveling alone is to watch the footprints I find in the trail and attempt to guess who, if anyone is ahead of me - or who traveled before. In this case, though the trail is still crusty from the frost the night before, I see some footprints that appear relatively fresh, along with some animal (a large dog, I surmise). These prints appear and disappear as the trail texture and hardness change. The trail continues rising through the forest until, at last, it opens up and reveals the rocky cliffs of Kendall Peak. The clearing is the result of two things. The first shows the remnants of an earlier logging activity, with the decomposing stumps serving as nutrients for the new plants growing in and around them. The second reason stems from the first, because the lack of trees causes erosion, especially from the spring melt-water and the winter snows avalanching from the peaks above. I almost elected to deviate from the trail and head straight into the clearing because I knew the trail traverses above me and beneath the peaks, but I don't and decide to stay on the trail. |
|
| Pages: 1 2 3 |