[gratenate]

Malachite - Chetwoot - Emerald Lakes on the Foss River Loop Hike Stats: Days: sometime in late August 2005, three nights Miles: roughly 28 Elevation Gain: ~6000 feet Rating: Challenging Day 1 As I sit in my cube and gaze at my computer’s wallpaper picture of Tank Lakes at dusk, my mind wanders back to our four-day loop hike last summer. Our plan was to tour the west and east drainages of the Foss River, just a few miles southwest of Skykomish in Washington’s Cascade mountain range. I’d visited the area several times in the past, but this time we were adding a twist; we were going to link the two river drainages with approximately one and half days of off-trail hiking. We started the hike in our usual fashion, getting out of town much later than we hoped, running into county fair traffic around Monroe, stopping just one more time at the liquor store, and, finally, stopping at the nearby Ranger Station after becoming unsure of exactly where we were supposed to leave Highway 2. Yes, we were a pack of men, without a map, loose in a mini-van (a surprisingly comfortable vehicle for this sort of trip). Eventually, we reached the trailhead at the end of USFS Road 68 and piled out of the vehicle to the hissing of crickets, or was it the nearby river? No, it was our right rear tire that had been punctured by glass in the parking area just before we halted. So, after further delay mounting the baby-spare onto the van, we finally headed out on the trail. It was past 1pm but, knowing our group’s tendencies for slow starts fairly well, we had only planned on a short 3.75 miles to our first night camp on the shores of Lake Malachite. That was the good news, the bad news was that the trailhead lay at a mere 1600’ above sea level whereas Lake Malachite rests at an elevation of nearly 4100’. While we would only be hiking 3.75 miles with our fully loaded packs that afternoon, we would be climbing nearly 2500’. Almost immediately after setting out, we crossed the wilderness boundary. Now we were really getting someplace. A third of a mile later we came to a crossing of the West Fork of the Foss River. Last year’s anemic snowfall in the Cascade had reduced the river to a dry streambed with a small trickle of water moving among and under the river rocks between pools. Sure, it was August, but the low water levels couldn’t be good for the fish. After crossing what was left of the river on a log bridge, the trail continued to meander peacefully through the forest for another half-mile. We were feeling good, but knew the easy part was just about over. Signaled by a small rockslide and an immense old growth douglas fir, the uphill began.

3 Amigos at Big Tree

Big Tree

We had traveled a little over half of the 1.5 miles to our first break point, Trout Lake, but had gained only 150’. In the next three-quarters of a mile we gained the remaining 350’ and breasted the forested hill that rimmed the reedy shores of Trout Lake. The elevation gain wasn’t taxing and was a good warm-up for what lay ahead. After a quick break for snacks and water, we hoisted our packs and tried to put some distance between us and Trout Lake. After traversing south along and above the western shore of Trout Lake for about a half mile and climbing to an elevation of approximately 2400’, the trail turns westward and begins a series of traveling switch-backs up the drainage to Lake Malachite. Suddenly, the pleasant shade of the forest was gone and the afternoon sun blazed down upon the dry trail as we slowly plodded upward. Back and forth we trod the switchbacks that will eventually climb 1700’ in a mile and a half. Our gang of four becomes two groups of two and we begin to leapfrog another party of hikers who are also struggling mightily up the unrelenting trail. War and I know that we must reach the top first to get the pick of the lakeside camps. War and I press on, distancing ourselves from Pea and Gee and the other party of hikers. This stretch of trail isn’t only about the struggle of the climb and the heat of the sun; as we climb, we gain views of the valley below and the waterfall that feeds the drainage. Finally, at 3900’, we reached a junction where the short spur trail to Lake Malachite joins the main trail. As I waited for Pea and Gee just to make sure they don’t miss the turn (we have had those sort of things happen before), War headed up the trail to Lake Malachite to stake a campsite claim. Soon, the other party of hikers approaches but indicate they are continuing on to Copper Lake just a half mile up the trail. I wish them luck and am secretly relieved that we won’t have to share the limited camping at Lake Malachite with them. Finally, Pea and a weary Gee arrive and after a quick water break, we all push on up the final climb to the lake. While the map shows a nearly 200’ elevation gain, it doesn’t seem like that much. Perhaps, it was the plethora of blueberries on either side of the trail that distracts me from the climb, and before I know it we are listening to the gentle lap of the lake against the grassy shore. We drop our packs and begin to scout for the best camp. It doesn’t take us long to notice that we are the only ones at the lake so we turn our attention to getting in a swim before the sun dips behind the steep ridge that encircles the lake on three sides. We find a nice swimming rock with mud-free access across the logjam at the lake’s outlet. The lake is cool and the sun is dropping fast, so a couple dips will do and its time to set-up camp. Soon the tents are up and dinner is coming up. Lamb, for me tonight. Before you know it the beers start popping open. Gee has decided to lighten his load. Well, not to be outdone, War offers up some of his cognac, and Pea his Yeagermeister, and I my Crown Royal and Guiness. Gee had the last laugh as he unloaded his wine. With our loads significantly lighter, we settled down for the evening. Soon cursing erupts from Gee’s tent as he believes he punctured his airbed mattress. I kid you not, not only had Gee been packing beers and wine, he was carrying an inflatable bed as well. Now that’s what I call camping in style.

Lake Malachite

Blue Berries at MYSTy Lake Malachite

We awoke the next morning to a clear and promising sunrise, but by 9am a thick fog had crept up the valley across the lake, and up over the ridges beyond. We set out back to the main trail and soon were headed for Copper Lake; a large lake with steep cliffs along the west shore while the trail hugs the steep banked east shore. Camps exist at the lake’s outlet, but they aren’t the most attractive campsites and we were pleased that we opted for Lake Malachite yesterday. We wound our way along the lake edge, absorbing the misty views, and as we neared the end of the lake we broke away from the shore, angling up the outfall from Little Heart Lake. At 4200’ we reach the bank of Little Heart Lake for a touch-n-go. Knowing that the day’s hike has just begun, we turn from the lake and ascend a bench that provides an overlook of Trout Lake and yesterday’s path. We turn south and follow War towards a 4900’ shoulder pass of the mountain between Little Heart Lake and Big Heart Lake. War outclimbs Pea and I to the pass and is gone by the time we break to take in the views of the lake basin to the east. Gee toils forth, air mattress and all, and together we descend 350’ on a curving traverse to Big Heart Lake. At Big Heart we encounter yesterdays hiking leapfrog party and another party of one who warns of the eminent arrival of a large group of his friends. We assure him that we are merely passing through and ply them for information regarding the trail from Big Heart Lake onward; for this was the end of the trail, at least the maintained trails. You see, trails in the Cascades are so well established, that even though no longer maintained, remenants of old trails or fisherman trails exist at the end of many maintained trails. Big Heart Lake is no exception, as the end of the maintained trail is barely noticeable as we mount the humpback ridge that separates the 4545’ Big Heart Lake from the 4600’ Angeline Lake to the east. About half way up the ridge the trail levels and then descends east toward Angeline Lake, as War and I drop, Pea hails us. He and Gee are heading over the ridge rather than dropping elevation. This, I can’t recommend, because the trail’s drop is soon curtailed by cliffs surrounding Angeline Lake turning the trail south again. The trail slowly climbs along the dramatic cliff edge, traversing and winding between rock outcrops until ultimately regaining the spine of the ridge on the south side of its peak. War and I stopped and called Pea on the walkie-talkie.

Nate over Angeline Lake

Big Heart Lake

After a short wait, Pea and Gee joined us. Their path over the hump hadn’t taken too much longer, but they also hadn’t had the spectacular cliff walk above Angeline Lake. We all followed the path downward to a saddle between the southern tip of Big Heart Lake and Angeline Lake. Here the path bore a bit west moving decidedly into the Big Heart Lake drainage and we began to climb up to a low pass due south of Big Heart Lake. We anticipated this, as while we were scouting out possible routes from the north end of Big Heart Lake, this drainage appeared a logical entry point to Chetwoot Lake. The path wound back and forth up the well-landscaped drainage and culminated in a pleasant plateau with a small reflection pond. Our packs had grown heavy and the idillyc rock tarn spot would have made a great campsite, but we knew it would leave too much work tomorrow so we soldiered on toward Chetwoot Lake.

Pass to Chetwoot Lake

Chetwoot Lake

Downward now we plodded, eagerly anticipating our arrival at the cheery shores of Chetwoot Lake. We should be there any minute now…shouldn’t we? We had only traveled ~3.5 miles on trail and another 2 miles off it at this point, but the ascents and descents of the day’s hike made it seem like we had traveled much further. After one last steep descent, we skirted the shore of Little Chetwoot Lake and settled at an established campsite on the east shore of Chetwoot Lake. Our late arrival coupled with ever-increasing coolness and clouds precluded a dip in the lake before dinner, so we immediately submerged the beers in the lake, fortified ourselves with shots of whiskey and set about setting up camp. Chetwoot Lake, while off the maintained trail system, is still frequented by many a backcountry traveler. We had a number of good tent sites to choose from and since we were the only people at the lake, we each quickly staked claim to the tent site we deemed best and used the central campsite as a cooking area. After drinks and dinner we strategized around our camp stove, fires are not allowed, regarding tomorrow’s offtrail exploration. Realizing the hour had grown late and we had a full day ahead of us, we retired for the night. Day 3 Day 3 brought a cool and gloomy dawn and we wolfed a quick breakfast while reviewing our maps one last time before breaking camp. Gee, leery of lugging his large pack across the rock strewn, off-trail route, decided that he would day hike with us for part of the day and return to Chetwoot Lake for another night before hiking out and bringing the mini-van around to meet us on Day 4. War, Pea, and I shouldered our packs that were noticeable lighter now that we had put a significant dent in our provisions, turned our backs on Chetwoot Lake, and climbed eastward up a large rockslide. Soon we reached a plateau in the rockslide that offered excellent views of Chetwoot Lake to the west, Azure and Angeline Lakes to the north, and still more rockslides at the base of steep cliffs to the south and east. So we continued to trudge east, onward and slowly upward until we reached the base of the cliffs that were part of a finger ridge that separated Chetwoot Lake from a small unnamed lake at the base of Iron Cap Mountain.

Ascending the Rockslide over Chetwoot

Angeline Lake

Hiking in the Danger Zone

Upon reaching the cliffs we worked our way north along their base. Soon we had rounded the horn of the finger and began pushing south up a boulder strewn gully between the finger and lone knob that lay due north of the lake at the base of Iron Cap Mountain. As we walked upward through the rocks and only rocks, for no plants grew here, the walls of the knob and the finger closed in upon us, looming ever nearer creating a canyon-like passage. We pressed ahead through the eerie quiet as a cool wind greeted our approach, toward the lip of a small glacial circ. Cresting the rim of the circ we gazed down upon the oddity of the small, unnamed lake at the foot of Iron Cap and then up to its spiny ridge. A tiny, soiled remnant of a glacier clung to the sheer slope above the surface of the lake, while the lake’s murky water instantly earned it the nickname of Pea Soup Pond. It was unnamed, at least for this party, no more.

Gap to Pea Soup Pond

Pea Soup Pond

Ascending from Pea Soup Pond

After working our way beneath the knob to the lakes outfall, we stopped for a quick break to evaluate our route again. So far, we had followed the route that I had traced onto a scanned Green Trails map using MS Paint to a tee. But at this point I had been unsure which would be the best way to go; low or high, so a bit of route scouting on the scene was called for. It soon became evident that the low route was impossibly steep and cliffy, unless one traveled quite low, back down below tree line, much lower than we cared for, so we bade farewell to Gee, crossed the small stream trickling from Pea Soup Pond, and head up the north shoulder of Iron Cap Mountain. It was a pleasant stretch of climbing with solid rock ledges and small grassy shelves stepping up the mountainside. The footing was sure and square, which was a bit of relief after the boulder hopping and sidehill staggering we had done earlier that morning. Months ago, when mapping the route at my computer, I figured we’d have to gain ~400’ of elevation to clear a steep cliffy area, before quickly doubling back down the east side of the shoulder. It’s an amazing and infrequent thing when plans work out just as you’d anticipated, but this is just one of those occasions. After 20 minutes or so of climbing, we reached a point where it leveled a bit and we were able to cross over to the east side of the shoulder. We began following the contour in a somewhat southerly direction for a bit, thinking that possibly, just maybe, we’d be able to keep the elevation we’d just gained and work our way across the east side of Iron Cap. As the side slope became steeper and we gained a better vantage of our desired route, it became clear that the contours on the map did not lie and we’d have to retrace our steeps back to the level spine of the shoulder. It was here that we discovered a small grove of scrubby evergreens, a couple even bearing the orange marking tape of previous trekkers, clinging to the steep slope. It was through this scrubby glade of prickly alpine spruce that our path lay.

Scouting the Route

From Whenst we Came

Sneaky Trail thru Scrubby Trees on Iron Cap Mtn

The steep descent was aided and hindered by the scrubby trees as they provided valuable hand and foot holds during the descent but conversely tugged at our packs and often obscured the rocky route underfoot. Spurred on by the orange route markers and the steep pitch of the slope, we made quick work of the awkward descent and were soon resting on a grassy shelf gazing at the rocky mountainside traverse that awaited us. We decided that this was as good a place as any to take a lunch break, so we dropped our packs and within minutes War had some coffee brewing and the surrounding picnic rocks were litter with our foodstuffs. As we munched, consulted the map, and inspected the terrain that lay ahead we basked in the realization that what had looked to be the trickiest part of our passage now lay behind us. After lunch, we opted for the high road across the double dipped rubble slope. As usual, War played geologist and found several varieties of interesting rocks. I reviewed a number and selected a small one for my trip rock, whereas War soon began stuffing rocks into his pockets and any empty crevice he could find in his pack. Soon we reached the high empty granite plateau at the opposite side of the first swale. This area was an easy target because its lack of rubble made it stand out from the rest of the hillside. So far we had made the right route choice, but I believe we may have wronged as we continue into the second swale. Instead of following the slight dividing ridge down from the granite slab to a lower elevation, we opted to stay high and soon found ourselves pushing through tree thickets and trying not to twist our ankles on the steepening side slope. However, once committed to the route we stuck to it and soon saw it through to the ridge between Foss and Snoqualmie watersheds.

Our Path Ahead

Traverse Below Iron Cap Mtn

Upon reaching the ridge our hike began to take ethereal quality as the overcast sky lowered, the air cooled, and breeze chilled the sweat on our necks. The light smoothed and Summit Chief Mountain, Chimney Rock and Overcoat Peak commanded our attention, their rocky spires vanquished by afternoon clouds. We meandered in a northeasterly direction down along the ridge until reaching the saddle where we ascended the rock and grass slopes of the ridge’s opposite flank. Here our routes varied as we each picked our own course through the maze of rocks, twisting and turning our way upwards toward Tank Lakes and the surrounding plateau. This is what off-trail hiking is all about.

Resting with Summit Chief Mtn

Rock Garden and Otter Lake

Pushing up the Saddle to Tank Lakes

Before we knew it we came across a shallow dish of snowmelt that we suspected to be the central lake of the Tank Lakes. However, due to the speed of our arrival and the low water levels we were unsure. We had planned to camp at the lake but the unyielding rocky surroundings, the cold rising wind, and the ever-lowering clouds drove us on. We still had daylight and energy left so we pushed through the gap on the north side of the lake and curled in an easterly direction behind the abutment the loomed above the lake. As War and Pea wandered further east to check out a moraine, I held a more northerly course that eventually led me across rolling granite rises to the shrunken Foehn Lake. Cold and inhospitable and without a comfortable campsite, I followed the lake’s drainage toward the valley below in hopes of intercepting War and Pea.

Tank Lakes Plain

Tank Lake

Tank Lake looking South

By the time we reunited, they had discovered a fairly established, dusty trail that snaked along the rocky drainage into the valley below. We made short work of the small, direct switchbacks and soon reached tree line, where the trail split. He we had to make a choice between continuing east on the bank of the rocky drainage or taking the more northerly route into the forest. Pea opted for the straight shot that he could see down the rocky drainage to the brushy flats above Opal Lake. War and I succumbed to the lure of the unknown forest trail that appeared to be heading more directly toward Opal and the other lake jewels of the Necklace Valley. Well, we hadn’t been in the words more than a few minutes when our promising short cut evaporated into the vegetation. As we staggered through underbrush, over downed logs, and across mossy gullies, I was more than a little disgusted with myself. Finally, War and I staggered out of the forest, forged through the brushy flats and reunited with Pea who had, in his spare time, scouted the area for potential campsites. The evening was upon us and by this time we were all ready to drop our packs, cobbled together a quick dinner, and drink a toast to our adventure. Unfortunately, it wasn’t to be so easy. The first campsite was too rocky, the next too swampy, the third too small and hilly. We spent the better part of an hour zig-zagging our way down the Necklace Valley looking for a suitable campsite. It wasn’t that there are not a vast quantity of campsite in the Necklace Valley, but we soon realized that at 6pm on a Saturday evening most of the campsites are already spoken for. This became increasing evident as we staggered down the valley toward Emerald Lake. After hiking all day and not seeing another soul, it didn’t occurred to us that the Necklace Valley would be crawling with other campers…it didn’t but it should have. After talking with several groups of campers and following some poor campsite leads, we eventually arrived at the beginning of Trail 1062 where we found a dilapidated wood shelter and several informal trail crossings along side Emerald Lake. While right on the main trail, at this point this was as good as place as any and we set up camp.

Empty Clowdy Lake

Emerald Lake

Day 4 We packed up quickly before the threatening skies opened up and bolted down the trail. Being back on the trail was quite a change from yesterday’s wanderings and the descent seemed anticlimactic by comparison. The walk out seemed to drag on (sort of like this trip report) so we just grinned and bore it. Happily, we reached the trailhead and not a moment too soon as a light rain began to fall. We stood under the shelter of a tree and within 10 minutes, Gee chauffered up in the mini-van grinning broadly. We piled into the van and hit the road as the skies opened up.

[Matt]

Okay, I'm definitely going to have to do that loop sometime. Thanks for the report.

[Slide Alder Slayer]

Very nice trail report.

[Backpacker Joe]

Guys, your pea soup pond is Iron Cap lake... Nice report and trip.

[gratenate]

Pea Soup Pond seems more appropriate but Iron Cap Lake makes sense as well

[Phil]

Very nice. I especially like the detailed route description. I read of a group once doing the loop as a dayhike and have aspired to that.

[Dayhike Mike]

Beautiful area! Glad you guys had a good time on the Alpine Lakes High Traverse.