Every growing crowds, extended wildfire seasons, and persisent drought have created new challenges when planning a farewell to summer Labor Day adventure. Certain areas of the state are considered no-go for me just because of the sheer number of people recreating in the mountains and wilderness these days. Increasingly, I'm finding myself opting for less dramatic scenery in favor of lesser traveled albeit less aesthetic trails. That ethos is more crucial the first weekend of September, the last hoorah for many. We chose a destination in the South Cascades, that despite its proximity to the PCT, doesn't get much overnight traffic. We intended to do a lollipop loop that included two nights at two different lakes, one of which was known to have larger cutthroat and the other which was a bit of a wild card. That last part turned out to be extremely accurate.
Arriving at the trailhead with a meager parking lot that leaves from a popular campground, we were relegated to parking alongside the major highway, stepping into the ditch to don my boots. After assuring a massive group of 6 adults and countless kids were going a different way, we hit the trail and quickly made it to the first lake landmark on our hike, then to another where we were enveloped by a chilly fog, obscuring the next lake where we had lunch. This was just past where I saw a guy pooping right off trail. We made eye contact, and it was awkward. I just kept telling myself he properly handled his business, but somehow, I doubt it. Snacking on blueberries, we passed a few more lakes and tarns, all the while assuming the fog would break as warmer temperatures moved in as the sun rose higher in the sky.
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| A mile in, a decision has to be made |
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| Foggy snacktime |
We arrived to our destination lake to find it completely socked in, spitting rain, windy, and cold. Nevertheless, we traversed around the lake on a primitive trail to get further off the main trail, increasing our odds of solitude an reducing the amount of trail traffic that would pass our tent. Around the lake, the fog was less dense, and eventually, it all burned off and took the wind with it, revealing a tranquil setting complete with a perfect reflection. After setting up our tent, we strung up our rods and set out to find some fish. Thus far, we had seen no rising fish and very few bugs. We moved around the lake some and traversed through the chilly water to a small rocky outcropping with a sloping edge dropping into a deep pool. We tried every fly we had, including streamers. Nothing. As it got later, we saw a few isolated rises but again, no action for us. Frustrated, we decided to have an earlier dinner and then fish until it was dark or we were too cold to stand in the water anymore. We went to bed fishless but slept well and satisfied there were only two other groups at the lake, both far across on the other shore.
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| Waiting for his dinner |
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| Perfect reflection after a windy start |
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| Serene morning |
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| Getting an early start |
We awoke the next morning to a thick blanket of fog and cold temperatures. As the sun began to rise, it penetrated through the moisture creating a dreamy sunrise effect and providing much needed warm to our cold fingers and toes. We decided to fish early morning before having lunch and moving on to the next lake. After some oatmeal, we braved the frigid walk to the outcropping because we just knew that's where the fish would be. Finally, finally I had a strong tug on my streamer and was able to land a beautifully colored up cutthroat. We snapped a quick pic and then sent it back to the depths. Shortly after, Shaun connected with another beauty. Feeling validated, we headed back, packed up camp, had lunch, and headed out to our next destination, only about two miles northeast. We made quick work of the distance and would have made even better time, but the blueberries were just incredible. We ate our fill and left the rest for the bears and other hikers.
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| Waiting for Shaun |
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| Not quite a frost but almost |
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| Sunny but still cold |
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| Finally. The colors on this fish were incredible. |
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| Shaun also on the board |
When we arrived at the spur trail to take us to our next lake and campsite, we noticed an American flag hanging from a tree. We thought it a little strange but not altogether out of the ordinary. People can be oddly patriotic, or maybe it was tribute to a fallen friend who served. Shaun and Birch, lead the way, when suddenly, Shaun made an aggressive 180 pivot and said with some urgency, "Go. Now." I can be a bit slow on the uptake, and in my mind there was probably a bear, so I was excited and didn't want to turn around. When I met his gaze, he was pressed, so I did a quick pivot myself and hauled out to the main trail. The campsite at the lake was occupied by people who had Gadsen flags and the like as well as creepy tents made from tarps, like some kind of pathetic backcountry militia. It then dawned on me the one guy we passed on the trail the day before decked out in tactical gear and tight lipped about where he was camping must have been one of them. I have seen hunting camps, and this was not one of those. These were people who wanted to be left alone and wanted to intimidate. We traveled down the trail to the distant point of the lake where there was another camping area, about 10 minutes from the Jan 6th crew. The lake access there was less than desirable for fishing, and truthfully, we still didn't feel comfortable being even that close to them. Our other camping options from here were bound to be crowded based on the info gleaned from the permit box at the trailhead and the fact we encountered people who could not find a place to camp at one of the said lakes. Instead of tarnishing our night of solitude with cramped camping, we just decided to hike all the way out and enjoy a day of rest on Labor Day. We were disappointed, but sometimes you just have to know when to cut your losses and savor the part of the experience that exceeded your expectations.
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| We're out |
