The final leg of the Northwest Peak alternate route is a challenging off-trail rock scramble along a ridge in order to re-join the primary route on Trail 440.

I groggily opened the door of the now-windowless lookout tower to this view.

After a slow breakfast and a dump in the old outhouse, I set off, now with no trail to guide me. The direction I had to go was pretty obvious:

My first goal was to scramble to the summit of Davis Mountain.

The first leg of the rock scramble was slow-going, but still fun. I was enjoying myself and in good spirits, but I still couldn’t wait to be back on a trail. After I made it to the first summit (0215A), I had a choice – dip down below the tree line and follow the bowl contour to rejoin the primary route (0213P) or continue scrambling along the ridge to rejoin the primary route later (0215P). I chose the latter, but made the poor choice of following 100 feet or so below the ridge instead of climbing up to it.

The rocks here were pretty unstable, with little vegetation to hold them in place. I felt like each step could cause a rockslide. It would have been much safer to scramble along the top of the ridge, to avoid the hazard of rocks falling from above me. I got more and more psyched out – this became as much of a mental challenge as a physical one. I wanted to bail out, but I didn’t have the option. I think it took at least an hour for me to get back up the top of the ridge at the 7580’ peak southeast of Lake Florence.

The way down from that peak was a slow bushwhack through thicker and thicker vegetation, and there were a lot of abrupt rock ledges to scramble down or find a way around. It took me way too long to actually find the trail – at one point I realized I must be walking parallel just northeast of it, so I bushwhacked southwest about 30 paces and immediately found it, a feeling of relief washing over me.

There was a trail register somewhere before the Montana-Idaho border and I was surprised that my four friends hadn’t signed in – I didnt see how they could be behind me. I think not seeing their names in the book put me in kind of a bad, lonely mood for a lot of the day. But I was excited to come down from the mountains into the next valley, as I heard there was a restaurant that lets hikers camp out back. The prospect of real food gave me more energy into the evening.

Coming down the mountain on the Ruby Ridge Trail, I ran into my first fresh huckleberries! I’m not sure if I can articulate how good it feels to be provided with fresh berries after such a long, tiring day of hiking. It felt like magic.

I ended up eating at the salad bar at Feist Creek Falls restaurant (0230A). I didn’t meet the legendary owner, Cliff, but they were very hiker-friendly. They had a PNT trail register there going back quite a few years, so I signed in and took a look at who had been there before me. I camped behind the restaurant that night, full of fresh vegetables and happy to be near people, even though they weren’t hikers.