Day 10, July 5, 2020. Suiattle River to Milk Creek.
Once again, we strted out by climbing up through a dark deep forest of huge trees and moss. We overcame the now expected blowdowns, stream crossings, and switchbacks.
We hit snow around 4,800′ at the top of the last switchback. We got lucky on this day because the clouds disappeared and we had perfect temperatures. Cole had been struggling a bit this day. Josh, Bradley, and I trudged up ahead. We knew the drill by now: walk 200 feet, check Guthooks, course correct and go another 200 feet, repeat. I was struggling to keep up with them at the altitude and slope. They could’ve kept cruising knowing that I could follow their steps, but they kept letting me catch up.
We were very near the peak. We stopped at a dry spot for lunch. The views were amazing. It was a nice reward for the hard work.
Going over the pass was not too steep. However, once we got to the other side, we were in for a doozy of a day. Our first challenge was a steep slope that went in and out of trees. Cole missed a step and quickly flew down about 20′ luckily catching a big log safely. Next, we had to go around a huge “bowl” at the head of a valley that was pure snow. The bowl got steeper towards the end.
We had some slow, dicey snowfields. Cole was often scouting out ahead. Again, he paid the price by slipping and taking a fall. It is such a helpless feeling to watch 100 feet away as a friend goes shooting down a snowy slope straight into trees. I really thought there was going to be some broken bones. He was OK, stopped by trees before he shot off a 75′ drop-off. I think trees are looking out for Cole.
Eventually, we cleared the woods and peered down in to a steep canyon. The maps indicated a steep decline with a huge number of switchbacks. We were down a little bit because we were not even close to one mile per hour in the snow. Now, in addition to the physical challenges and risks of snow, there was a risk of running out of food.
Glad to be out of snow, we trudged down the switchbacks. There was a ton of fresh black bear scat. The plants were chest high. A bear would not see us coming. Gladly, no bears. However, when we got close to the stream in the valley (Milk Creek) it was clearly a raging torrent. I could not see a way for us to ford it safely…we were tired, the water level was at its highest after the sun was melting snow all day, and it was moving. I hoped there was a bridge.
It seemed like for the first time we lucked out. There was a wooden footbridge across the stream. There were no campsites…the valley was too steep and the brush too thick. The only flat spot was the bridge. We cowboy camped on the wooden bridge, hoping the bear(s) did not have a pressing need to cross the bridge at night.
Like the night before, I went to the bed with the sound of a powerful stream as background. This night, however, I did not sleep well, tossing and turning and watching the sky cloud up slowly.
backpacking over the hill 