My First Overnight Solo Hike-- Cholchuck Lake, The Enchantments, WA.
A birthday is always a good time to do something crazy. Right?
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All photos are mine :)
I had been scheming about a hike through The Enchantments for months now. If you've never heard of them, here's a quick summary:
"An alpine paradise of granite worn smooth by glaciers, larches manicured by wind and cold, and crystal blue lakes strung together by a creek that tumbles and thunders between them...."
Getting there is harder than it sounds. For most of the year, the Enchantments are nearly impassable with snow, and for the other six months (May-October) there is a strict permit-only enforcement in place to help preserve the wilderness character. Permit access begins on May 15th. This was the last weekend of public access to the area. And also my birthday. I had to go for it.
My aim was set at Colchuck Lake. Being alone, and a little worrisome about camping overnight alone, I knew I needed an option for something out-and-back in under 12 hours. I creeped on as many online posts as I could find about the trail conditions over the course of a month, to get a feel for what I was getting myself in to. I looked up the area forecast the week leading to my birthday: Sunny, 75 degrees, still some snow on the trail, but doable. This was it.
12:00 PM
I followed Icicle Creek Road and arrived at the Eightmile Road gate. It was still closed for the season. Meaning I had an extra 4 miles on foot to get to the actual trailhead. I parked the car and started filling up my pack with supplies. Snowshoes, my tent, sleeping bag, protein bars, wine-- I still hadn't even decided whether or not I would be camping out there or hiking back down for the night. Day hiking alone is one thing, camping overnight in a tissue-paper-thick tent, in possible snow, was another. "I guess I'd rather be over prepared," I thought to myself. I would later realize that I had actually under-packed, and missed a few very important items...
I was a dummy and had overslept that morning, so I was starting out pretty late for a long hike. I made myself a promise: I'll hike until 4 pm, and if by then I haven't found anybody to camp with, I'll turn around and hike back out while I still have the daylight.
12:30 PM
I set out down Eightmile Road. AH fresh air, sunshine, total silence! This would be my first-ever solo hike. I was in my element and the views were already rewarding.
Stuart Range at Eightmile Rd.
It was a tame gravel road the whole way, winding right alongside Icicle Creek. In hindsight, a mountain bike would have been perfect and shaving off the extra two hours of walking, but it was a good primer for the actual trail to come.
Icicle Creek at Eightmile Rd.
2:00 PM
I reached the trailhead! I stopped to eat lunch and rehydrate.
I still had not seen another hiker, but I was feeling way too good to turn back. With just two hours to decide where I would be camping that night, I started up the trailhead. Hiking alone was shaping up to be very freeing. Your only limit is yourself. All of your mental energy is free from worrying about what a travel companion needs or wants. I felt so much focus about my goal to make it to the lake. My pace was faster and steadier than ever.
Warm cedar and fresh pine, the smells of the forest filled my lungs. My eyes took in the wildflowers dotting the forest floor and the fungi clinging on mossy rock faces.
Waterfalls were my soundtrack for the day. I was present. Calm. Without headphones. Unplugged from the rest of the world. If zen is a thing, this is mine.
3:00 PM
Three hours into my hike, I still had not passed another person. At this point, I was a little worried. My experience with alpine hiking is..well, I'd only done it once, and it was with a big group of people.
Camping in back country has a way of making you feel like a bear/mountain lion is going to eat you in a way a reservation campground with fees and toilets does not. The Colchuck Trail is really popular and heavily trafficked most of the year, but this was the opening of the season. All the 'what if's' started playing in my head. What if I'm going to be the one to wake something out of hibernation out here? However, as much as I didn't want to sleep by myself in the woods, I could not bring myself to turn around. I still had an hour until my promise to myself kicked in. I kept going.
3:30 PM
I had just crossed the first bridge over Mountaineer Creek when I saw something bright red flicker through the trees ahead of me. I almost couldn't believe my eyes. A girl in a red Bavarian-style dress (obviously from Leavenworth) and hiking boots was heading down the trail toward me. I had only been alone for three hours..I shouldn't be hallucinating yet, right? She was real.
"Hi there!" I called out. "Have you passed anyone? Do you know if anyone will be up at the lake camping tonight?" I asked.
"Yes!" she replied. "There is a group of seven that are heading up now and camping at Colchuck for the night." She added, "Good to see you brought snow shoes. You're about to gain some elevation."
Instant relief. I could keep going with plenty of daylight left to reach the lake. I just had to find and meet up with that group of seven. I thanked her for the information.
"Oh and be careful," she said as I started forward again. "The snow up there is..complete trash."
Ten minutes later, I found out what she meant.
4:00 PM
There is a reason why you only need a permit to access The Enchantments in the summer months. Hiking in the area during other parts of the year is a combination of dangerous and/or downright difficult. The final 1.6 miles and 1,100 feet of elevation gain was both. I crossed the creek for the second time, the final landmark you hit before the ascent.
The snow started off as just patches here and there, deep drifts clinging to the shadows where the sun hasn't quite reached. You could still see the definitions of the trail at this point, where trees had been trimmed back over the years and stones carefully lined the switchbacks. The views were getting more and more breathtaking.
Up, and up, higher with every step. My thighs on fire, one foot in front of the other, into deeper and deeper snow. The girl in the dress would turn out to be the only person I passed on my journey up.
5:00 PM
It was getting harder and harder to keep track of the trail. Almost everything was under huge drifts of snow, some almost as tall as the trees. My only guide was the footprints of earlier hikers and the occasional saw-trimmed log. When you hit sections where the snow has all melted, your brain starts making sense of things like broken twigs and bent branches for direction. I could tell by the tree line that I was almost to the lake, but the footsteps I had been following were getting harder and harder to interpret, splitting off to different directions, turning sharply up the snow drifts and around the pines. This couldn't be right. I had lost actual the trail.
5:30 PM
Frustration was setting in. I could see the peaks that encircle Colchuck Lake, but they were on the other side of a snow-covered wall of huge boulders. I had to stop going in circles. If I couldn't find the real lake entrance, I would just have to follow someone else's. I picked a set of bootprints to follow up over the huge rocks, careful to sidestep the deep holes in the snow made by the person before me. Thank god for snowshoes. I climbed. Suddenly, the trees opened up.
Colchuck Lake, The Enchantments, WA.
I made it! I didn't die! Woohoo!
I had found the lake! Now...where are the other hikers?
6:00 PM
My legs were now jello. I needed food. I wanted to sit down. But more than any of those things, I wanted to find other people. Having the six hours alone on my hike was a really amazing experience, but I knew it would be a long night of little sleep and paranoia unless I found other humans. Call me a wimp all you want, but I feel like every noise is something carnivorous when I'm camping. I looked out across the water. I knew I was further to the left of the iconic peak than most pictures I had seen of Colchuck Lake. I picked another set of footprints to follow around the lake and pressed on.
6:30 PM
More huge drifts of snow. No sign of a logical trail to follow. The sun was setting and I still saw no sign of other people. I called out across the lake.
"HELLO? ANYBODY ELSE HERE?"
I waited for a response. Nothing.
I kept making my way to the western edge of the lake. Suddenly, I found a path of newer footprints, several of them. I was instantly relieved. I had to be on the right track. The further I followed them, the more confidant I became. This had to be tracks from the group of seven. It started to feel like I was on a real trail again. Around another bend, over more rocks and I lifted my head to the beautiful sight of four staked tents. A smile spread wide across my face, relief washed over me, and I called down to them.
"Hey, mind of I camp with you?"
Camping at Colchuck Lake, WA.
My Birthday dinner of wine & Cliff bars.
This trip taught me so much about the power of self confidence. The next day, hiking back down, I passed a number of hikers who couldn't believe I had done the hike alone. It takes bravery, focus and determination, but ultimately, it comes down to not being afraid to just go for it. I wanted to include the parts where I was frustrated, worried and intimidated when creating this piece, because it's important to show that being brave and confidant doesn't mean you aren't going to have bumps along the way.
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Being brave doesn't mean you can't rely on other people, or get worried about your own safety. Bravery is about taking a leap even when you know the outcome may not be perfect, comfortable, or unflawed. So cheers to being 25, being more confident, and being really sore today.
Other lessons learned:
- Don't forget extra socks.
- Get a camping mat.
- No, this tent isn't made for snow camping.
- Pack double the trail mix.
- Waterproof shoes next time.
- Start earlier, sleepyhead.