Shuksan
The air was cold and moist when I woke up. The condensation had thickened on my tent walls and pooled into freezing-cold puddles on the nylong floor. I ate a quick breakfast on Hannegan Peak in a cluster of ragged cumulus clouds. Mount Shuksan was now intermittently visible to the south.
I packed up as the clouds started to condense and bounded down the trail toward Hannegan Pass in hopes of finding Moose and Bugs there. About a tenth of a mile from the campsite, I took an unofficial side path that led to the campsite privy. I made it there just as I saw a familiar face coming up from the other side: Sure enough, it was Bugs! We caught up for a minute and I stepped down the hill to let her do her thing.
I found Moose there too and we talked for a while. He told me about the Thai hiker he’d met who talked to them for a few minutes and then exclaimed, “You’re the guy with stars on his knees!!”
Because Bugs and Moose had a lot of experience hiking in the Cascades, they were both a bit disappointed by the lack of views along the main PNT route – the PNT mostly followed river valleys through this whole section, and most of the views were on side trails. Apparently, the PNT used to take a high route through the Cascades, but it was switched to the river valleys to avoid some treacherous snow crossings.
The three of us set off together down toward the trailhead (C781P). The trail was mostly open and brushy with a view of Nooksack Ridge to the left and a few forested stretches. We all planned to hike to the Route 542 “highway of death”, hitch through the treacherous roadwalk to the next trailhead, and find a spot to camp somewhere near Baker Lake.
I went on ahead of Bugs and Moose when they stopped to use an NFS pit toilet at the start of the forest road. The road wound through a dark, beautiful cedar and fir forest, and I followed it with my mind wandering for 8 miles out to highway 542. The trail guide described the highway as a treacherous roadwalk with hairpin turns and no shoulders, so I didn’t feel guilty about hitching it.
I stood next to the highway and stuck out my thumb, and it only took about 15 minutes to get a hitch. A 90s VW Vanagon pulled up and the woman in the passenger seat hopped out and slid open the door, commanding me in a thick French accent to pile into the back in the seat behind her son. I did, and we were off. And so I became a part of this French family’s American road trip. They were incredibly friendly and didn’t act even a little bit weird about picking up a random hitchhiker. We made small talk for the windy drive up toward the next trailhead. On the way, we passed Teddy, who had apparently decided to brave the roadwalk.
The French family dropped me off at a tourist-trap ski area with a lot of short well-developed trails and a restaurant / gift shop ordeal. I saw a sign advertising ice cream at the restaurant and followed it with no further thought or deliberation. When I walked in, a familiar laugh told me that Bugs and Moose had done the same.
I joined Bugs and Moose at their table and we sat eating our ice cream sandwiches. I took the opportunity to plug my battery pack into a power outlet, something I hadn’t seen since I left Oroville 11 days before. We didn’t stay at the restaurant long; we were hoping to make it 17 more miles or so to Baker Lake before nightfall. We did take a quick detour up to Artist Point, where car tourists crawled over the lookout area to try to get pictures with Mount Shuksan in the background. Moose and I played on a patch of snow that still hadn’t melted from the previous winter.
After a little bit, we made our way to the Lake Ann trailhead. I think I told Moose and Bugs to go ahead of me while I used the pit toilet. I found the trail on my own after a bit of back and forth, then started the long descent. I listened to Prokofiev’s second piano concerto on my way down to get in the mood.
I caught up to Bugs and Moose again sometime after the junction with the Swift Creek Trail (0798P). The trail was rough and slippery, and we were hiking at a breakneck speed. Or a breakpole speed, as it were – On one sharp switchback, I slipped on some roots and jammed my hiking pole into the ground, breaking the bottom segment in two as I fell onto my tailbone. Damn. I used that as a tent pole every night and I didn’t really have anything to replace it. I got up and brushed myself off, and Bugs and Moose made sure I was okay before we continued careening down the trail.
About five miles and a few treacherous waterfall crossings later, we made it down to Swift Creek. The creek was at least thigh-deep with a fairly strong current, making it a very tough ford. I went first, stringing my shoes on my pack and trying to grip the smooth rock bed with my bare feet. Bugs and Moose came soon after, and we took a short break to put our socks and shoes back on. The next creek crossing thankfully had a new log bridge, saving us from another shoe removal.
It was almost 7 PM and the light was fading fast. The trail was now an old Jeep road, and we pushed on at a grueling pace – partly because we wanted to make it to the lake so we could get to town the next day, and partly because the mosquitos were now swarming and biting us with ferocity. At an old trailhead (0806P), we found a note that Shepherd had left behind, a short poem in rhyming verse encouraging us to turn the other way on the road to visit the Baker Hot Spring. Unfortunately, stopping to read the note was already too much of a concession to the mosquito hordes. Bugs and I were yelping and slapping at ourselves. It didn’t seem likely that we’d want to stop and sit in a pool of stagnant water.
The mosquitos reached an unbearable level a few miles down the road near Park Creek Camp (0809P). A section of the forest had been recently logged, and the mosquitos swarmed me in a way I’ve never been swarmed before. I frantically dropped my pack to deploy the nuclear option: 100% DEET bug spray. I’d only used it once or twice before on the trail, and I sprayed it liberally until my skin stung.
The three of us eventually found a spot to camp at a small boat launch off of Baker Lake Road. It was almost dark by the time we got there. Moose let me use his hiking pole to set up my tent, and we ate dinner around a little firepit. I was more than 5000 feet below where I’d camped the previous night, and I found the air uncomfortably hot and humid.
I looked forward to having a break in town. The hike from Oroville had been long, beautiful, and exciting, but I was ready to stop walking and take a zero day.