On Saturday August 2, 2003 The Pasayten Wilderness expedition team set off to explore an isolated corner of the North Cascades in Washington State.
The team consisted of five members: Professor Gary Gillespie (instructor and team leader), and Northwest College students Brant Bosserman, John Quick, Jak Moroshan, and myself Jeff Theorell.
That morning we met at the Lake Steven’s home of Brant Bosserman to quickly go over gear before our departure. We had already met twice at Northwest College to ensure that we all had the proper gear and shared the same philosophy for the challenging excursion into the wild. We used the check list found on page 24 of Chris Townsend’s book The Backpacker’s Handbook, to develop our list of essential equipment.
We arrived at Brant’s place, checked then packed our gear into two cars and proceeded to make the four hour drive over Highway 20 to our first night’s destination -- the Methow Valley and the Mazama Country Inn. On the way we stopped at Ross Dam for an exhilarating view of the spill way and then took a two hour day hike to Lake Anne near the top of Washington Pass. We arrived at the Inn about dinner time, but instead of eating at the Inn’s restaurant, we drove to the Town of Winthrop for Mexican fajitas at the Duck’s Café. In town we bought last minute items -- things that we forgot to buy before -- at a sporting good’s store. That night at the Inn, we studied topo maps, discussed the dangers of a growing forest fire about fifty miles away, organized our gear and settled in for one last comfortable night before beginning our six day expedition into the heart of the Pasayten Wilderness.
![[Mazama Country Inn]](../images/Inn1_02_main.jpg)
Mazama Country Inn
We had a great night’s sleep, a large buffet breakfast and a warm shower -- which I savored because it was the last one for a few days -- and strategically packed the gear to ensure proper weight displacement which optimized the comfort of the our packs and reduced fatigue. Since I was unsure of the terrain ahead of us, I packed in such a way to optimize my balance. I did this by placing heavy, low-bulk items lower in the back pack. Chris Townsend in his book The Backpacker’s Handbook suggests that “For any activity where balance is important, such as scrambling, bushwhacking, cross-country hiking on steep, rough ground, or skiing, the heavy, low-bulk items should be packed lower for better stability, though still as close to your back as possible.” Also we made sure to pack items that we would use wile on the hike such as water, snacks, lunch food and cameras in easily accessible places.
We then departed Mazama lodge and drove off into the wilderness, following the same one way, dirt road that gold miners used one hundred and twenty years ago. Our destination was Hart’s Pass in the corner of the 1000 square mile Pasayten wilderness reserve. The one hour long drive to the trail head provided some of the best views of the trip. We often stopped the cars for pictures.
I remember one of the places that we stopped was a view point high on the side of a mountain overlooking the valley to the north. Smoke for a large forest fire on the opposite side of the wilderness left a distant haziness in the air which made the setting look more like an impressionist painting than real life. That moment reinforced my faith in the existence of a creative God – this beauty was hardly the result of accidental physical processes. I felt sure that the scene shown before our awe-filled eyes and clicking cameras was the design of a wise and mysterious creator. Here is a picture from that very view point.
After the view stop, we drove about twenty minutes, gaining a couple of hundred of feet in elevation to the next stop on the bend of the road – if you can call this sliver of flat space on the side of a rock that. This was the legendary Dead Horse Bend, named after an incident during the mining days when a horse startled and caused the wagon to fall over the 600 feet drop off. The fifty yard stretch is extremely narrow, high up on the side of the mountain with only a few short feet separating us from the edge of a cliff. There is no other road like it in the state, dangerous and thrilling. One car of tourists approached to curse us for stopping here, but we left them enough room a the widest section to drive around us. We were amused.
Finally we reached
the trail head which was at the top of a ridge near an observation tower at
Slate Peak. The parking lot provided a panoramic
view of the Pasayten Wilderness. We parked the cars, threw on our
packs with eager anticipation. The suspense of not knowing what our
expedition had in store for us charged me with an energy that I had not felt
in some time.
This is a picture of the Pasayten Wilderness team at he trail head just
before we began our expedition.
From left: Gary Gillespie, Jeff Theorell, Brant Bosserman, John Quick, Jac Moroshan.
At 11:00 a.m. on Sunday August 3, with our backpacks on and our boots tied tight, we took our first steps down the trail. Our expedition had begun. We hiked for just over an hour and then stopped to eat lunch at a perfect grassy patch near a large bolder. There we partook of turkey sandwiches purchased at a deli in Mazama that morning. We ate and basked in the warm sunlight for about twenty minutes before continuing the hike.
From there it was
about a seven mile trek to the Lake where we would set up base camp. The 7,000 foot altitude made those
seven miles a challenge to say the least. We went up hill, down hill, over
rocks, and through five streams, and then up a final steep hill again.
After about two miles my pack felt like it had gained about fifty pounds.
Periodically we would stop to re-hydrate or take a picture, try to identify
wild flowers and kept trucking along. With each step I took my pack seemed
to get heavier and heavier. At about four miles in all I could think about
was setting up camp, and making hot coco. We kept moving and after another
mile or so we arrived at the bottom of a steep hill.
There I heard Prof. Gillespie tell us that this would be the hardest part of
the hike. Right then and there I thought I could feel my immune system
shutting down as the thought of going up hill was worse than death itself.
But instead of passing away we grit our teeth and pressed onward towards the
top of the hill. The only thing keeping me alive at that point was the
motivation of knowing that camp was just on the other side of the hill.
Finally we reached the summit. We took off our packs and rested for about fifteen minutes as we caught our breath and replaced the water that we had lost while exerting ourselves climbing the final hill. We then began the decent down the other side of the hill towards the area which we would make our base camp. After going down hill only about two hundred feet, we could see our destination point near the lake. All of the sudden I was revived with new energy because I could see that we were almost there. A few minutes later we arrive at the lake. We took off our packs and began to explore the area that would be our base camp for the next few days.
As I looked around the incredible beauty of the area began to sink in. Our campsite was about one hundred yards up hill from the lake on a large, flat rock. The spot was at the foot of an avalanche path surrounded on all sides by mountains that seemed to spring up from the ground like massive pillars. This was truly one of the most beautiful places I have ever seen. That evening, I took this picture from our base camp.
After we explored the area for a few minutes we came together to set up camp. Instead of setting up camp an ordinary camp, we build a wilderness fortress – inspired by a caveman spirit that Conan the Barbarian would admire. Jak and I constructed a comfortable log seat toilet, John and Brant moved a couple of rocks together in the tiny stream nearby to make collecting water easier, and Gary -- our designated cook -- built a fully functional barbeque area by strategically stacking rocks. We gathered wood for the small fire. Indeed this was no simple campsite; it was an expedition compound and our home away from home.
That night our cook prepared a gourmet meal of grilled steaks and flat bread, along with coffee and coco. As we ate our steaks with fishing knives and forks in hand, we reclined on the flat twenty foot rock next to the fire and talked about life, theology, women and our dreams -- it was memorable time of bounding that more deeply enriched our friendships.
After a late night of star gazing, drinking coffee and hot coco and laughter we hit the sack to recover from our long day. I quickly fell asleep only to be awoken a few minutes later by something brushing up against the outside of our tent. I sprang from my humble abode to defend the nylon tent against the intruder, but instead of a large beast there sat a small, fluffy marmot -- a small dog sized rodent like creature that looked like a toy stuffed animal -- which proceeded to make the strangest noise I have ever heard. I stared him down for a moment then retreated to my tent, for I was far to tired to do battle with a marmot. For the rest of the trip, the marmot became our mascot, fearlessly walking under our feet like a pet.
We awoke the next morning to crisp, cool fresh air and a beautiful blue sky. With a breakfast of real scrambled eggs and bacon eaten, the team split up for a little rest and relaxation. Brant, Jak, and John took a four hour day hike up to the top of the ridge and back down and around Pasayten Peak. Gary and I decided to read. Later that morning we decided to go fishing for that night’s dinner. We gathered our fishing gear and set off for a hidden pond on the side of the hill that only a few people know of. Professor Gillespie insisted that we all purchase fishing license even thought we were far in the wilderness. We were happy to fulfill the ethical code of our Mountaineering Club.
The Pond looks like a large swimming pool at the base of a cliff and surrounded by alpine fir trees. There we cast our lines into the cool clear water where the cutthroat trout were plentiful. Every other cast we had another fish on the line. This was no fishing hole, but rather a slice of heaven nestled in the corner of the Pasayten Wilderness, and for that time it was ours. Catching the food we were to eat that night, for some reason, filled me with a deep satisfaction that I had never felt before. I felt primitive and somehow more alive.
We enjoyed few hours at the pond, then returned to base camp with a multitude of 7 to 10 inch fish slung over our shoulders. I felt like a Native American hunter returning to his tribe after a successful hunt. That night we pan fried those fish that we had caught, and they were the best tasting fish that I have ever had. The thin alpine air and the fact that I was eating what I had caught made it taste that much better.
After dinner we put our food in a sack to hang it from a tree. Then we gathered around the camp fire for another evening of discussion and laughter. As we were enjoying each others company, we heard the sound of rustling bushes just a few short yards from the fire. My first thought was that it was a bear and we are going to die. But fortunately it turned out to be a small dear, who surprising came to within only a few short feet of us. She also became our camp pet – or vise a versa.
That night the marmot also paid us a visit. I shined the flashlight his direction and followed him back to his hole. This animal was amazing; it had created not just one hole but a plethora of holes and intricate, interconnected tunnel systems throughout the area. Apparently we had placed our tents directly above his home. After gazing at the stars and talking for a while longer, we retired to our tents to rest for the next day’s adventure.
The next morning I awoke to the sound of our furry little marmot friend who made a nasty little habit out of waking up at the crack of dawn and making noise. Although he was cute, there were a few times, particularly in the mourning, when I had dark thoughts of a rotisserie over hot fire and barbeque sauce. For the most part he was pleasant – he was just a bit annoying in the morning.
Breakfast of pancakes and eggs over, we again went our separate ways to rest, read, and explore. While the rest of the team rested, Jak and I spent the greater part of the day exploring a stream near the camp. It was full of tiny waterfalls and was lined with beds of wild flowers. The stream came trickling down through the avalanche shoot that filled a broad, rocky bowl topped by the jagged crags of Pasayten Peak high above.
We then returned to our favorite sport – trout fishing at the pond. Jak and I grabbed our poles and set off for the pond, careful not to reveal our secret destination to a family from California who arrived the day before to occupy the camp sites near the main lake. Making fun of the Californians was a common joke of the trip. They asked us where to go and we made sure to direct them in the opposite direction of our secret fishing pond.
When we got there we cast our lines in and almost as soon as my fly hit the water I hooked a fish. After about an hour the sky became filled with dark clouds and it began to pour down rain – one of the thunder storm that we were warned occur often in the Pasayten. So we grabbed our gear and ran back to camp. In less than an hour, we had caught enough fish to feed the entire team. The vision of cutthroat trout curling in the fry pan filled our minds as we ran back to camp victorious from the evenings hunt.
That night we again savored the flavor of fish that we had caught, cleaned, and cooked ourselves. As we sat and ate I was invigorated by the thought of our self sufficiency. Here we were, in the middle of no where, filling our bellies with food that we had caught and prepared ourselves, cooking over a grill that we had constructed out of rocks, drinking water from an aqua duct that we had built, and sitting by a fire that we had started. It was primal, it was pure and I loved every minute. We had seized the day and tasted the sweet marrow of an authentic life.
Being out there with my best friends surrounded by some of God’s best work truly put me at peace. I could not help but feel pity for all the people back home in the city who had to work, plodding through another day’s existence while we were out in the wilderness on an unforgettable adventure. I could never understand those urbanites who never venture past the edge of their familiar world of brick, steel, asphalt and wires to experience the pristine, natural playground that God has made for our enjoyment.
After dinner we gathered as usual around the fire for our nightly ritual of deep discussion, laughter, coffee and hot coco. That evening the sky was particularly clear and we could see the stars perfectly. Before going to bed we laid back for a long while and watched as shooting stars and satellites periodically streaked across the Milky Way.
The next morning was Wednesday and we awoke to day five of or expedition -- which was the last full day that we would spend at base camp. We spent the day relaxing, fishing, reading, and exploring. Later in the day, as we started a fire to cook dinner we heard a metallic noise booming in the distance that kept getting louder, and louder. Just then a huge k-max helicopter appeared just over the top of the ridge and swooped down towards the lake about thirty feet off the ground. At first I thought that we were being attacked by the Canadians. But then realized that it was forest fire fighting chopper.
At that point we thought we were in big trouble. The helicopter flew over the middle of the lake and scooped up hundreds of gallons of water in a large container that was hanging from a large cable attached to the bottom of the chopper. The k- max then proceeded towards our campsite where we thought for sure the Pilot was going to release the water to extinguish our small cooking fire – perhaps thinking that smoke from our small fire was caused by a lightening strike. But to our relief the chopper flew over us to fight a much larger fire that we later found out was just a few ridges over from where we were. The chopper came back to our lake five times that hour to refill. On the next page is a picture of the k-max helicopter flying over our camp site.
Later research showed that there was a large forest fire in the Pasayten near Farewell Creek that had already consumed 75,555 acres. More than 1000 fire fighters were involved in fighting the blaze and it had already cost 31 million dollars.
The helicopter incident over, we cooked dinner and went to bed to sleep in our fortress for the last night.
The next morning we ate an oatmeal breakfast and reluctantly prepared ourselves for the journey home. After we had cleaned up camp and packed our gear we paid our last respects to our fortress. Making sure to leave the camp site as we found it, we carefully doused the fire five times with five gallon buckets, disassembled the fire pit and covered the area with dusty dirt. We desired to leave no trace of our presence so that when we took our last look at our beloved camp, it appeared as if no one had lived there for the last week. See our wilderness covenant.
It was a beautiful day, the sky was blue and the air was cool, it was perfect weather for the long hike ahead of us. Unlike the hike in, however, we could smell a noticeable amount of smoke in the air and the horizon was hazier. On the way back we returned by a different rout, choosing “the road less traveled by” and ventured cross country by deer trail along the top of Gold Ridge.
The first 2 miles of the trek home was hard on me. The deer trail looked like a steep escalator leading 1000 feet to the sky line. Up hill, up hill, and more up hill. My back was bothering me from a weight lifting injury so climbing up hill with a heavy pack was a bit unpleasant. On our accent to the ridge we saw a porcupine which was quite interesting. I had never seen one before.
Here is list of all animals that we saw that week: porcupine, grouse, marmot, mule deer, eagle, falcon, gray jay, rabbit, squirrel, chipmunk, and pica. A flock of Gray Jay birds, also known as camp robbers often showed up at dinner time for some handouts, literally taking treats from our hands.
One hour later we had
reached the top of Gold Ridge for the best views of the trip. The final
miles were smooth sailing on a sea of high alpine air. There were only a few
points of elevation gain, so for the most part it was a straight shot across
the ridge back to the trail head. The view from the top looked like you are
in an airplane looking down at the u shaped valley and far off peaks on the
horizon. We could see for hundreds of miles in every direction from our top
of the world perch.
The cold breeze off the ridge helped keep us cool as we hiked towards our
destination. As we got closer we were able to see the lookout tower near
the trail head. I began to have thoughts of the Mazama lodge. Images of
the hot tub, a steak dinner, a bed, and a shower began to consume my
thoughts. As we were finishing the last few hundred yards of our journey, I
turned around to look at the rest of the team and I somehow knew that my
companions were thinking the exact same thing.
More than a year in planning this trip, the effort and exertion was worth it. We had survived five nights in the heart of the wilderness, miles from any other human, living like ancient tribal people or perhaps mountain men or miners of a former era. We watched the sun set, experience the darkness of wilderness nights and saw the stars.
We knew the company of wild animals, caught cut throat trout from a heavenly pond, hiked isolated trails, climbed steep peaks and explored alpine streams and meadows full of wild flowers alive with birds and insects. We shared meals and drank hot drinks around a fire long into the night. We talked and dreamed and laughed together. We lived.
As we took the last few steps of our journey near the end of the trail I looked back, far back, along the ridge from were we had just come, and it reminded me that life is journey, an adventure, and that to be fully human we somehow must get away from the pressure of humanity, return to our primal roots and come to appreciate the wilderness in all its splendor.
A high school teacher once asked a question that made a strong impression on me: “If someone wrote a book about your life, would anyone want to read it?” There on that ridge at the end of the trail, surround by friends, looking out at the panorama of God’s creation, and remembering the times we shared, I knew that my week in the wilderness will always be a passage worth reading.