And so it is the third night. I write to you again from inside a tent, in order to avoid the bugs, after a game of Farkle.

Bird Watching in the Morning

The morning began leisurely again, some time around eight. Breakfast ensued, in a somewhat piecemeal manner amongst the five of us, but it was accomplished yummily, and with a plethora of birds to entertain us. (My breakfast was lentils an eggs, with chipotle seasoning. Yum!)

'Ware the Gills! Bad Mushroom!

The tents had to dried a bit after the night on the meadow, but we eventually dried everything off, packed up, and started down the brook that we had camped along. I got to take the lead down the meadow, as I was part of the team that wen exploring yesterday. It felt like a quiz; Steve said it was. Fortunately, there was only one spot where I was distinctly uncertain which way we had gone. But there were mushrooms to explore on the path (we learned about amanitas), and a lot of wildflowers to “ahhh” over.

A Bee, Getting Loaded on an Aster

And so we eventually made the main trail again.  It wasn’t a very long distance to our turnoff, but as there were so many things to examine along the trail, it certainly took some time to traverse.  Fortunately, we didn’t have far to go until Angel’s Staircase – 1000ft in 1.6 miles, with most of the elevation gain being in the last mile.

Starting up Towards Angel's Staircase

The ascent started through wide open meadows, showing us yet more blooming flowers, and began heading up hill, up switchbacks, up some distinctly steeper terrain. It was a lot of switchbacks, along the side of a mountain, with trees (and flowers amongst the trees), which left the visibility to the goal a little lacking. I found that particular climb a bit sloggish, though the views were great over the valley we were ascending above, and I could see Jeanne and Bill below me on some of the switchbakcs. About two thirds of the way up, I could finally see Sue ahead of me (Steve already long gone, doing his best “mountain goat climb” impression). Once I could see her, and start to see the end of the climb, it felt a little faster. I wasn’t any easier terrain – it was still steep and was now all somewhat unstable rock – but the goal was in sight.

Trying to Identify the Mountains - So Many Mountains!

It wasn’t too long until all five of us stood atop a little plateau, over a pass, looking down at the meadow of our campsite, the path we followed skirting the valley, and the base of the mountain we had just climbed. And looking up at the length of the rugged North Cascades, and the comparatively rolling Central Cascades. The view from 8000ft enabled Sue and Steve to definitively identify Rainier and Glacier Peak in the distance, and speculatively identify Mount Stewart and the range sheltering the Enchantments, where we all backpacked two years ago.

Savasana on the Pass

The updraft off the valley was chilly (to me, anyway), but the sun came out to warm us. A leisurely lunch and rest followed the wonder of the views, and we took the time to take a number of pictures, including ones of me doing yoga poses at the top of the pass.

Eventually, we carried on, skirting just below the ridge from the pass we came over, affording us views to another valley we were not heading into, which held a cirque with a lake surprisingly high up the valley walls. It wasn’t very far to another pass into the valley we were descending to, overlooking Eastern Washington. We had a vey steep descent here, which felt surprisingly stable, given I had left my trekking poles at home. Most of the way down the valley, we had views of our first (and potentially day’s) stop, Cooney Lake.

Surprise! A Lake Half Way Up the Mountain's Side

Cooney Lake

While there had been discussion over where to go for the evening’s camp, all we had agreed on was making a decision at Cooney Lake. We walked over to the far side of the lake, to a rocky outcropping that Bill had camped on previously. Before making any decisions, Steve tested out the temperature of the water, and Bill joined him. As Jeanne let me borrow her pack towel, I jumped in too, or at least had planned to, before stepping in to the lake to find out it was rather quite chilly indeed. Of course, the bright purple Crocs, bright pink kinesio tape on the knees, and matching green underwear/swimsuit was a hit for the “trail fashion” fans.

Cooney Lake Swimming Hole

After coming out if the water, though, we really did have to figure out where we were going to camp. Much discussion ensued. Much indecision ensued. Much weighing of one factor and another ensued. Many opinions ensued; more opinions than we had people, or choices. Fortunately, Bill made an executive decision, echoing the prevailing sentiment at the moment (as I recall it) to continue on to Martin Lakes. After all, the locals raved about Upper Martin Lake.

So we carried on, losing a fair amount of elevation gain, traveling a fairly nice path under to loosely canopied forest. There were occasional streams to cross, and gentle breeze to cool us off. Once we made the intersection to head up to Martin Lakes, however, the ascent began again.

Martin Lake, the Second

About a half mile of steady uphill later, we found ourselves at the first Martin Lake. I had been in the lead and was oblivious to missing a fork in the trail, heading to a horse camp – a very large, spacious horse camp with a large fire place. But I was able to find the group again, retracing my steps and heading down the other path. And so we found the highly recommended Martin Lake. It was under-inspiring, to say the least. But we had heard that the second Martin Lake (there appears to be a chain of four of them) was better. And so we continued. The second lake was not an improvement. So where to camp?

Heading to Martin Lake, the Third

Out of curiosity, a few of us wanted to explore the slightly higher lake, to see if maybe there was something worth while. As Sue was not interested in more elevation gain, and was interested in the many birds around the lake edge, she stayed behind with our packs as the rest of us headed farther ahead – along a tiny trail, having mislaid the larger one, until Bill bushwhacked his way back up to it. Eventually, we came out onto a large meadow, with slight valleys off to either side, and a suspicious rise just off to the left of the trail. Bill crossed overland to it and let out an exclamation. I headed over, and here right in front of us, surrounded by steep walls of wildflowers, was a crater of a lake, dark water shadowed by the mountain rising up from the banks.

Reflection in the Third Martin Lake

The Crater Like Martin Lake, the Third

Unfortunately, the ground all around this gorgeous, and – in my limited experience – unique lake was a rocky, lumpy, gangly meadow, with no real good place to pitch a tent. And though I could hear the outlet to the lake, we had not found any good source of water. Steve asked a few questions about the horse camp I had seen earlier, and we cane to a partial group consensus to head back down that way. We picked up Sue and our packs on the way down, but found an even nicer camp before getting all the way to the end of the lake, and stopped right there.

Dinner at the Last Camp

We unloaded, bug blocked since the mosquitoes were making their best showing of the trip, and pumped a whole bunch of water before preemptively putting up the tents and then making dinner. Much discussion over the quantity and preparation of dinner followed, and I’ll bet that never before had the preparation of a Mountain High meal required a cook and two sous chefs. It was apparently quite tasty and cooked just right, however. (I had lentils, chicken, and a veggie spice mix that was awesome!)

After dinner was put away, and the evening ablutions completely, all five of us squeezed into my tent to play Farkle(tm – apparently). It’s a fun, dice based game that is something of a cross between poker and Yahtzee. The game kept us up later than any other night so far. Bringing me to – an hour later, the end of this trip report, on more visit to the trees, and then some shuteye.