[achildinthesehills]

Holden Village has always been difficult to explain to the uninitiated. Not quite a church camp, more than a retreat center, only some elements of a commune, at times a pseudo-municipality. Someone wrote a master's thesis trying to define it. Fortunately for me, I was initiated in my childhood—my grandparents made their first trip in the mid-1960s and it’s been a family-vacation destination ever since. Briefly, Holden’s physical plant largely comprises the remnants of a company mining town high above Lake Chelan in the Railroad Creek valley. The Holden Mine was one of the most prolific producers of copper in the country during the 20 years it operated, and was abandoned somewhat intact when it closed in 1957. Through some vision and persistence, the town (as well as all the mining claims and mineral rights) was gifted to the Lutherans and began operation as an independent nonprofit in the early '60s. In the last ten years, an enormous project has been undertaken to finally clean up the mine site, while the Wolverine Fire burned much of the lower valley and immediate surroundings of the village. For hiking purposes, it’s tough to think of a better setup. By day you can explore some of the most wild and remote scenery on the continent (or some fascinating human history in the wilderness), then return to a hot meal, shower, ice cream, music, pool (in two senses), community, and a real mattress. This year is a little different with COVID protocols necessitating reduced services for hikers passing through, but as a volunteer or paying guest the day-to-day is similar to how it's been for a while. Having gone close to two years without taking a real vacation, I jumped at the chance to head up for two weeks with some family. Here’s how that went. Get your maps and satellite imagery out and enjoy! (This is a really long post, so here’s a list of the sections. Looks like I can’t do anchors on this site to make a linked table of contents, but you can copy and Ctrl+F from here.) 2021-07-23: Domke Lake and Domke Mountain 2021-07-24: Lucerne to Tenmile Pass 2021-07-25: Tenmile Point and Tenmile Peak 2021-07-26: Tenmile Pass to Holden 2021-07-28: Foreskin 2021-07-30: Honeymoon Heights and upper mine 2021-08-01: Various minor trails and explorations 2021-08-02: Monkey Bear Falls and Winston Camp 2021-08-03: Martin Ridge 2021-08-05: More minor trails 2021-08-07: Holden to Lyman Lake 2021-08-08: Lyman Lake to Image Lake 2021-08-09: Image Lake to the Green Mountain turnoff (The final day is a reply. Looks like I found the post-length limit!) 2021-07-23: Domke Lake and Domke Mountain Of course, I couldn’t just be the “normal” paying guest so I devised a way to extend my trip while freeloading off my parents. Volunteers all go up on Friday this year but guests not until Monday, so I tagged along with my dad (who would be working on lodge porches) on the boat to Lucerne. Once there, I fended off the hiker-transport driver trying to take me up the valley and stashed my overnight gear in the Holden A-frame. Domke Mountain thwarted me a couple years ago due to injury (long story) so I wasn’t going to leave that peak unbagged this year. What I wanted to do was hike the trail to Domke Lake, traverse to Domke Falls, then head up the SE ridge, whose line looks awesome from the boat on the way in. Like someone took Little Si and inflated it. I set off at 2:20pm to do just that, making a brief excursion to a spot elevation along the way that I’m calling Refrigerator Point. The trail to the lake has excellent tread but lots of undergrowth encroachment and due to fire damage very little shade. Past what’s left of the resort things get a bit more choked, but still passable. I arrived at the Domke Lake Campground (day use only, like everything else at Domke) an hour after leaving Lucerne. Digital maps show the trail continuing to Stuart Campground from the there but I instead found an impenetrable thicket of fireweed and raspberries. Had I bothered to look at my Green Trails map I would have known something about this impasse (not doing so will be a theme, just wait). Realizing the time penalty of a long traverse in such conditions, I bailed on my plan (which will be another theme) and decided to just go for the summit.

Domke Lake Campground.

Emphatically the end of the trail.

Lake from the campground.

Not wanting to walk all the way back to the junction with the summit trail, I instead headed up a broad gully directly from the campground. This turned out to be a fun route, with minimal bushwhacking and options for friction climbing, talus scrambling on various sizes and stability levels, and decent views. Before reaching the crest, I followed animal trails to the human trail and headed for the top. The trail is pretty easy to follow along the ridge, with cairns in spots and a few blowdowns to negotiate. But with its lack of use and having only been rebuilt recently (2019), I’m not sure if these conditions will persist for long. I tagged Point 4010 and at the old lookout site I poked around for a benchmark but couldn’t find one. Not much is left of the infrastructure other than some foundations and bits of metal. It’s worth reading a bit about this unique lookout, I think. The true summit is just slightly farther along (no trail but easy). Not much in the way of views from the summit area other than hummingbirds and flowers.

Looking up the gully from about the halfway point.

Looking up the Railroad Creek valley from the top of the gully.

Lake Chelan from Point 4010.

Lookout remnants.

Possible lookout remnants.

Domke Mountain summit block.

It was about 6pm that I began to head down the trail back to Lucerne. I found it more difficult to follow in this direction, but mostly not too bad. However, the current USGS/USFS maps do not correctly indicate the location of the trail as it makes its final descent, showing a large jog to the south when in fact the route sticks to the ridge. Interestingly, older USGS maps have something much closer to the current routing. So does the Green Trails map, helpfully burning a hole in my pack. As it happened, I kept trying to look for where I thought the trail should be rather than just following it, descending directly towards the swamp before heading north to get back on track. (I will be making an effort in the coming weeks to correct the OpenStreetMap data for a lot of the roads and trails around Holden, which should then get pushed to Gaia, CalTopo, etc., eventually.)

Funky burned tree thing. Anyone have a more scientific explanation?

Tree tunnel over the trail.

Lake Chelan.

Domke swamp.

Finding this old telephone line where the map shows the trail did not help me realize I was looking in the wrong place.

Evening on Lake Chelan.

I returned to the A-frame at 8:30pm and considered my options. I decided I was enough of a Holden guest to just sleep there for the night rather than camping at Lucerne or Refrigerator Harbor. Note that the A-frame’s primary purpose is for Holden affiliates waiting for the boat in the winter, and it’s not intended as a lodge for anyone who happens to be passing through. So if you do use it, thoroughly clean up after yourself and keep quiet. Mosquitoes were bad at the lake (and an IMCO [mine remediation] employee was blasting music from a truck on the dock—it’s a shared space now) so I retired to the building for dinner and my first existential crisis of the trip. For the first time in years, I had nothing substantial to distract me and had to face solely own little self. A bit of an adjustment there.

From the dock at Lucerne near sunset.

2021-07-24: Lucerne to Tenmile Pass After an absolutely awful night’s sleep (unrelated to the crisis—just couldn’t get comfortable) I was stirring by 4:45am with a big day planned. The idea was to go find the long-abandoned Lightning Ridge trail, which led up over Lucerne Mountain and down to Riddle Creek. Then I could bag some of the peaks along the divide before heading down to make camp for a run at Flora the next day. The trail shows up on some older USGS maps as originating approximately where there is now an abandoned road and quarry originally established for minor mine-remediation efforts from 1989 to 1991, and can be seen unambiguously in places near the ridge crest on satellite imagery. However, with the recent fire damage I was unsure whether this route would go, especially given my experience the day before at Domke Lake and having done some scouting from Domke Mountain. I hoofed it up most of the switchbacks on NF 8301 before the sun crested Skookum Puss Mountain, but it was already clear that the day would be a hot one. I carried 5 liters of water in anticipation of not finding any sources for most of the day. Much like the other side of the valley, the torched trees offer little shade and give a feeling of desolation. I reached the intersection with NF 8301-129 to find it blocked by a huge slash pile, something I don’t recall seeing before but I’m sure has been there for years. Navigating around it, I worked my way north through a horrible mess of the same stuff as yesterday: 8-foot fireweed, thorny raspberries, alder, etc. With the addition of charred blowdowns every 30 feet or so, I quickly realized this was not the day I had planned. Although the roadbed could be followed, it had taken me 20 minutes to get 700 feet and I was already bleeding. It looked to be no better going alongside the road. I stopped to consider the implications. Even if things opened up higher (which per the previous day’s scouting seemed unlikely) I was not going to make it nearly as far as I’d hoped, which could leave me without a reasonable exit. But most importantly, I wanted to enjoy myself on vacation and type-II fun is by definition only fun if it ends.

Approaching switchback 3 with Domke Mountain in view.

I've always loved both of these signs at the top of the switchbacks, each for a different reason. The original "switchback sign" recently fetched $1700 at auction.

Possibly the clearest section of abandoned road.

More typical conditions. For reference, the camera is about 6' off the ground here.

So I decided instead to continue up the road and take the trail from near Holden to Tenmile Pass. Then I could have a shot at the ridge from the other direction. Plus for all the times I’ve ridden up and down NF 8301 in a bus I’ve never walked it, so I’d have an opportunity to check out a few things I’d always seen but couldn’t explore. The first of these was Dan’s Camp, a borrow area south of the road that’s been used for all sorts of storage and housing in addition to its role as a gravel mine. I summited Point 2209 just for fun while I was at it. Then I remembered that my Garmin map showed a slightly different spur road to the north than the 8301-129, so I walked back down to where it might have been only to find that the map was clearly in error.(*) While I was doing so, the Holden luggage truck, headed for Lucerne, came upon me. I’d stashed my pack off the side, so it must have been a bit of a shock to encounter a solo guy with no gear, munching on some trail mix, just kinda wandering around the road near the top of the switchbacks. The driver seemed genuinely concerned for my safety and/or mental state, but I briefly explained the situation and that while I may be insane, at least I know that I am. I think she radioed back to the buses because later when they passed me (both directions) it was all friendly waves. (Actually, even after a week or more of being in the village, I still had staff members come up to me with “Wait, you were the random guy walking up the road last weekend, right?” Apparently word had gotten around rather quickly.)

Dan's Camp overview.

Dan's Memorial Scrap Heap. (For all my Holden-area history I actually don't know who Dan was. But I know that a lot of people think the place is called "Dance Camp".)

Helpful sign atop Point 2209.

Anyone lose their dry flocculent mixing system? I hate it when that happens.

Walking up the road sucked. There is almost no shade or water access, it was quite a hot day, and the desolate scenery is a sad vestige of what the valley looked like 15 years ago. At least the grade is almost nonexistent—1000 feet up over 7 miles from the top of the switchbacks. The highlight was being able to explore an old car (mining era) that’s some distance down a bank halfway along the journey.

Domke Mountain above the Railroad Creek canyon.

Desolation at a turnout.

Mirror Mountain with Pinnacle peeking up behind.

Abandoned car (48.1883,-120.6884). Couldn't get any read on the make and model, but if I have more pics if anyone wants to give it a shot.

Lucerne Mountain.

Neat spot where the creek has carved channels into the rock. The discoloration is due to contamination from the mine and tailings.

One of the few shady spots. Greenwood Mountain framed in the distance.

Eventually I reached the connector trail from the road to the Monkey Bear Falls trail, which I took so as not to have to walk on a road anymore. There is no shade here, either, and more dust. Heading further west, I aimed for the trail along Tenmile Creek that connects with the falls-observation platform and then on up into the Tenmile valley. Unfortunately, this connector trail no longer exists in that location, so I bushwhacked the route to the only flat and shady spot along the creek below the platform. (It looked a lot different before the fire, and I still had that image in my head instead of the new reality.) I considered just heading into Holden for a break but decided I wanted to keep the spirit of the original trip somewhat alive. By then it was 3:30pm and the impending elevation gain with a heavy pack did not excite, but soon enough I was headed up.

Break spot looking up at the Tenmile Falls viewing platform.

Reverse view. This used to be a lovely, shady grove.

As it happens, the PCT was temporarily re-routed up this way a few years ago due to a fire, so what used to be a rough user route is now constructed and semi-regularly maintained. It’s still a primitive trail that’s often dusty and in sections overgrown, and being in a severe burn area means lots of logs. After leaving the falls, the trail switchbacks extensively up the side of Martin Ridge before traversing along above the creek. Maps indicate camping along here, but the fire obliterated most chances of that. I continued up the trail, encountering numerous blowdowns and still very little shade. Eventually the creek must be crossed, which is at a ford with the opportunity for some creative log-hopping. The blowdowns became more numerous, and I wondered if I was even still on the right trail, given that the maps (even Green Trails) show something different than reality. The trails in the area were all rebuilt and rerouted after the fires. After backtracking and poking around, I determined that I was at least on some trail and that worst case I’d end up at Hilgard Pass instead. But soon I found a lone sign directing me to turn right and hit more switchbacks towards Tenmile Pass.

View back down the Railroad Creek valley from above the switchbacks.

View up the Tenmile Creek valley.

Tenmile Creek crossing.

At this point I was exhausted and a bit frazzled. I had gone nearly 14 miles and 5000’ up in full sun with a heavy pack on little sleep, and my maps had been of minimal help for the past couple hours. It never seemed like I could drink enough water. I resolved to aim for another camping area indicated on the topo map somewhat below the pass but as I continued I became increasingly worried that this camp, too, had been obliterated by fire, and additionally I didn’t seem to be encountering running water where expected. But somehow a little oasis had been spared, and I walked into a lush green setting with a babbling creek and plenty of shade. It was 6:30pm and I sat down somewhat emotionally to face the evening. I was surprised to be feeling lonely given my introverted tendencies, but I guess I’m used to seeing at least a couple other people out there, especially on a weekend. I considered that the pass was only 500 more vertical feet above me and that I had nothing else to do, so I took off towards it in hope that there would still be water and shade higher up. Thirty minutes later I reached the cusp of the col and had a spectacular view down Devore Creek. There was running water and shade about 100 feet below the pass the way I came up, so I backtracked and found a reasonably decent place to set up camp. The mosquitoes instantly formed a thick cloud around me so I hurriedly dove into my tent and decided to just eat in there. Going stoveless has its benefits, but I still craved Holden bread more than the tortillas I had. Sleep didn't come as easily as I had hoped, as I was still adjusting mentally to the situation, but eventually I settled in enough.

Tenmile Pass pano.

Looking back the other direction. Copper and Fernow in the distance.

(*) The presence or absence of a trail/road on this ridge is confounding. Some maps, including Green Trails, show a road switchbacking up the ridge to almost 4000 feet. The path of this road does not match where the Lightning Ridge trail shows up on the old USGS maps, nor does it follow the abandoned road to the old quarry. Some satellite imagery shows faint features on the ridge that could be associated with a road or trail, but these features don’t line up well with the maps for either. Historical aerial photos don’t reveal anything resembling a road. I tracked the source data for the road to the Census Bureau’s TIGER database, but its name there is just “Usfs”; meanwhile, the USFS roads database doesn’t include this road at all. Best guess: the trail was built slightly more road-like lower down and in a slightly different place than any of the maps indicate, and the road/quarry establishment in 1989 obliterated the bottommost portion. It will take discovery of more documentation plus a couple days of hacking around on the ridge to resolve this mystery to my satisfaction. I may be a big enough nerd to actually do that, eventually. 2021-07-25: Tenmile Point and Tenmile Peak I woke up pretty late the next day, which I didn’t mind because I needed the sleep, even if it was somewhat fitful. In the morning a two-man Forest Service trail crew came down and stopped to chat for a bit. They’d cleared logs up Devore all the way from Stehekin and were headed to the wilderness boundary on Tenmile Creek. It was exciting to know my trip back to Holden might be a bit easier. What wasn’t exciting was how physically and mentally sluggish I felt. The previous day had taken more out of me than I thought. I wanted to try for Riddle, but since my original plan involved approaching it from the other side, I didn’t have any beta for the route from Tenmile Pass. It looked from the map that the best way to start would be to head east directly up the ridge from the pass, so I did so. But I was moving ridiculously slowly and couldn’t seem to find any rhythm even on this easy terrain. At Point 7155 (which I’m calling “Tenmile Point”) I stopped and stared at the remaining route. It stared back. I looked away and looked again, hoping it would seem easier. It did not. I could see a couple possible ways up (loose class 3), and it was only about another thousand feet of vertical, but I just didn’t like it. The idea of being on rock in direct sun for more hours was unpleasant. Handling any exposure seemed like an overwhelming chore rather than a fun romp. I decided that my strength and confidence were not in the right place to continue, so I didn’t.

Headed up the ridge from the pass. One of the Riddle false summits at top left.

From Tenmile Point: Maude, Copper, Fernow, Genius, Dumbbell, Greenwood, Glacier Peak, probably more. Martin Ridge in the foreground.

The remaining route on Riddle.

But looking across the pass, I saw a relatively straightforward way up to Point 7409 (which I’m calling “Tenmile Peak” just for fun; don't think it’s been named). I knew it would take me forever on this particular day, but I still had little else to do. As I descended back to the pass I heard the Forest Service crew at work in the valley below and a thousand flies buzzing all around. I dropped some gear at camp and headed directly from there up a drainage on the east aspect of the peak, sticking to slabby outcrops when possible and walking an extensive log system over the undergrowth. The drainage had a bit more of a headwall than I’d recognized, but it was easily surmounted by a fun section of solid class 3 scrambling. Yes, I was starting to have fun again. Being in the shade helped.

The headwall.

Fun scramble section.

From there, it was into a talus-and-choss gully with a small snowfield. Ascending, I found easier access to the south ridge than I’d been able to see from elsewhere. Then it was a bit more class 2 along the ridge to the third-class summit block, which turned out to have two distinct summits. Getting to the northern (and I believe higher) one required a couple slightly exposed moves. The view from the top was outstanding in all directions, with a good look at some huge, billowing plumes of smoke coming off the fires near Mazama. On descent, I took a slightly different route down the headwall (mostly mossy benches) and was back to camp at 6:30. This peak turned out to be an enjoyable scramble that would make for a great introduction to the activity if it didn’t have such a long approach. I still wasn’t feeling back to normal, but it helped to have accomplished something.

Loose but manageable gully.

South ridge.

From the summit: Johnson's Jonah, Black Tower (what a striking peak!), Wy'East.

Martin and Bonanza.

Martin Ridge and beyond.

Tinpan, Buckskin, Copper, etc.

Riddles.

Devore Creek valley. Wildfire smoke in the distance.

Fourth of July Basin.

I ate dinner at the pass where the wind helped keep the mosquitoes somewhat at bay, but not completely. The time came to engage in an activity that involved digging a hole, so I found a good candidate location and stuck the trowel in the ground directly into a bee nest. Guess nature had been saving all the day’s excitement for 30 seconds near the end. At least I noticed! I decided that the next day I would just head straight back to Holden so I could get cleaned up and have a decent lunch before the rest of my family arrived.

Puzzle, Enigma, smoke, cloud.

2021-07-26: Tenmile Pass to Holden I was awoken in the morning by the unmistakable sounds of a bear crashing through the woods near my tent. I’m not really bothered by black bears, as they tend not to bother anyone, but I figured I’d sit tight until it moved on. It stopped right outside my tent for a while and made some noises, then basically walked right over my bear can and was on its way. When I opened the tent I found that I’d been gifted an enormous pile of crap right on my doorstep. I figured that was as good a cue as any that my stay at Tenmile Pass had outworn its welcome. The trip down was largely uneventful. The USFS crew had cleared logs down from the pass to the switchbacks above the creek. I stopped to chat a bit more with them and they mentioned that they’d already logged the route out once this season, which means that trees are falling in the area at a tremendous rate. I took the new connector trail from the Tenmile Falls Trail to the road so I’d have a map of it. When I got to Holden, the first person I spotted happened to be my dad. “Hey, you made it!” “Yeah, how were things in the village over the weekend?” “Pretty good! Also your mom broke her leg yesterday.” “What.” Yes, my dear mother decided to spend the weekend exploring back in civilization before coming up as a guest, and had slipped on a popular trail. She’d gotten out via the grace of strangers, and had decided Holden was still a better alternative to convalescing at home with no one around and lots of stairs. So she arrived in a boot and a lot of pain and we all adjusted as best we could.

Freshly cleared logs, yay!

Still had to go over/under/around these, yay!

Heading down Tenmile Creek.

"Buckskin" from the switchbacks. That cut and diversion up the flank was not in the original remediation plans, and I still haven't gotten a good answer for why it was deemed necessary.

Copper and more remediation activities.

2021-07-28: Foreskin In Holden parlance, the three primary summits visible on the south side of Railroad Creek are Buckskin, Copper, and Dumbbell. However, none of those true summits is actually visible from the village. The north ridge of Buckskin has two additional summits, which are locally known as Second Skin and Foreskin to those steeped in the underground Holden humor or have just looked at Peakbagger. More politely, “second peak of Buckskin” and “first peak of Buckskin” are the respective local nomenclatures. The first peak has always struck me as extremely aesthetically pleasing when viewed from the village, and it sees occasional ascents from there. Although I mentioned to a few folks that I’d be going for it, I actively avoided getting any beta just to see how my own map-based research would play out.

Foreskin and Second Skin from the village.

I was out of the village and headed up around 5:40am, hoping to avoid most of the heat of the day. The first part of the route follows the trail to Copper Basin, which is one of the steeper maintained trails around here and in great shape. I was worried about having to bushwhack through the same type of fire damage as lower in the valley, but fortunately things were a lot more open as I left the trail to ascend the NW ridge. Just a little dusty and ashy. Animal trails were excellent in a lot of places and I took my time going up to enjoy the views. There are a couple sections of loose schist to navigate, but the ridge mostly goes steep class 1/2. I was surprised at how few logs or other obstacles there were. Staying on the west side of the ridge kept me in shade most of the time.

Morning light on Copper Peak.

And on Bonanza.

Village through the fire damage. The orange-colored spot in the gravel pit is what the water-treatment plant is pulling out of the runoff from the tailings. About one dump-truck load per day is delivered back up and deposited in this sealed area.

Objective in sight.

A slabby area.

Looking down the Railroad Creek valley.

Higher up, the ridge turns to an almost north-south axis before reaching the base of the summit block. The crux is here, as getting off the ridge involves traversing an extremely loose and dirty gully with very little natural protection and a long way down in case of a slip. But exiting the gully I was pleased to find some excellently solid and fun third-class terrain without too much exposure. Lots of route variations here. Just below the summit there is a 20-foot step that goes nearly vertical but is still solidly class 3. At the base of this step is a huge flat rock that would make a tremendous bivy site for stargazing or watching the village. The “true summit” of Foreskin requires a quick ridge traverse (very narrow in one place) and a couple steps to reach, and does not have a view of the village, but does seem to be an active black-fly nest. I eyed the traverse to Second Skin, which looked pretty gnarly, but it wasn’t in the plan anyway. Since it was only 10:30, I figured if I slid back down as fast as I could I might be able to make it in time to catch lunch, which ended at 1:15.

Cliffs of the summit area.

Fun, easy, and shaded scramble terrain.

Cloudy, North Star, Bonanza, Martin from the summit area.

Final major obstacle.

Village from the top.

Maude, 7FJ, Fernow, Copper.

Foreskin true summit, Second Skin, Buckskin.

Tinpan.

From the true summit to the point visible from the village.

Ridge to Buckskin proper.

I took roughly the same route down as up, with minor variations based on whatever animal trail I happened to be following. The crux gully felt even more exposed going down, as did a couple of the looser sections on the ridge. At one point a section of game trail blew out from under me and I took about a 10-foot tumble but escaped with just a cut on one finger. A special treat was having two EA-18Gs scream through the valley right at my eye level about two-thirds of the way down. When I hit the Copper Basin trail I broke into a run that had me in the dining hall at 1pm, just in time. Stats from the village were 2.5 miles and 4200’ of elevation each way.

Looking down the scramble section.

Crux area. Pretty significant lack of ground to either side.

Tenmile Pass and surrounds.

2021-07-30: Honeymoon Heights and upper mine The current mine-remediation efforts have so far not touched the mine adits, prospects, and waste-rock piles located above the primary portal. (Some of the cleanup proposals did involve treating these, but the final decision excluded any such work. It remains to be seen whether another phase of construction, which might involve this area, is necessary.) These piles are still clearly visible from the valley and the air as orange areas on the north flank of Copper Peak high above the village. Below the lowest one lie the remnants of an area called Honeymoon Heights, which derived its name from being the location where newlywed employees and some families took up residence in the early days of the mine. In fact, the entire mining operation was largely based here prior to the primary development of the mine beginning in the late 1930s. There was once even an electric cable-car system to transport people up and down from here. All that remains—especially after the fires—are some foundations, metal and glass artifacts, and a rusted-out vehicle. Access is via a rough but navigable road leading up from near the main portal. I decided to make a run of it, so was up from the village to Honeymoon Heights in about 10 minutes. The road continues from there along the base of the lowest rockpile (with a short spur to an adit), crosses a scree gully, then switchbacks more steeply upward to the second pile. It’s been recently logged out to this point and can still be driven by rugged vehicles. Before it crosses the gully again, it narrows to a trail and a new sign states MINE HAZARD / TRAIL CLOZED / BEYOND / THIS POINT. It should be noted that this entire area is actually on private property owned by Holden Village, so it’s up to them what conditions to impose here. That said, there really isn’t much of a mine hazard if you don’t actively seek out trying to get inside the mountain. Legends have been passed down of people falling into mine shafts up here, but the fact is that surface-reaching tunnels were dug horizontally into the mountain, not vertically. Anyway, the trail continues through a loose gully crossing, traverses the largest rockpile (which can be scrambled up to another adit), then enters the forest again for another switchback. In here it gets pretty rough and overgrown, with lots of downed trees. One more gully crossing (a bit easier) and you’re deposited on the “uppermost” pile. The adits here have collapsed but there are excellent views of the valley.

Lowest of the upper portals. Someone at Holden has the key to that padlock.

Someone moved the HONEYMOON HEIGHTS sign up here to near the portal, which is not really accurate. It should be on a wooden post (which is still there) a bit farther down.

CLOZED

Second waste-rock pile.

I put “uppermost” in quotation marks because it’s actually possible to continue higher on a relatively good trail to view some of the earliest mine prospects. A quick scramble in an obvious opening at the top of the pile leads to this trail, which switchbacks a couple more times. (Well, the opening is obvious, but that it leads to a continuation of the trail is lesser known.) The prospects aren’t much to look at by themselves, but for someone who soaks up Holden history it’s almost exhilarating to be in their presence. I know, I’m a huge nerd. Anyhow, I followed a deer trail a bit farther just to see what was there, which wasn’t much. Someday I’ll go try to find the actual outcrop of ore that J. H. Holden observed, which should be about 300 feet higher.

Access to the upper adits.

Early prospect, the highest one I've been able to find.

2021-08-01: Various minor trails and explorations I took advantage of some cooler weather (and a bit of rain the night before to keep the dust down) to poke around on some of the trails and abandoned roads near the village. Part of the intent was to gather GPS data for my mapping project, and most of the rest was to document current conditions and see what had changed as the remediation construction wound down. First was the Holden Nature Trail, which transits the woods between the village and Railroad Creek. Half a mile of well built trail in the shade.

Smoke and mist on Copper Peak.

Next was Copper Falls. The trail crosses Railroad Creek on a new bridge east of the village before heading up the west side of Copper Creek. There’s a brief section of road before a log bridge leads over a drainage ditch and to a short series of well-maintained switchbacks that end at a viewing area for the falls. The trail used to continue up to the old diversion dam on Copper Creek (from the mining days), but that connection is signed as closed for restoration. However, it’s just a few yards of scrambling to reach the old diversion-dam road, which is still followable to near the dam site. Getting to the structures is a bit trickier than it used to be, as the creek has cut new channels that have placed them on what’s essentially a brushy island in the summer.

Old diversion structure.

As I headed down via the old road (which seems to have been logged out recently, not sure why) a siren began to ring out in the valley. This is Holden’s unmistakable “wail”, which alerts everyone to a fire alarm and musters the staff. The mists and wildfire smoke below coupled with a view of the village through dead trees made for an apocalyptic scene. Statistically it’s a false alarm, so I didn’t pay too much mind until a voice came over Gertrude, the PA system: “Searchers check Chalet 2”. Well sh##. That’s where my family and I were staying, and where my mom possibly was alone with a broken leg. I took off at a dead run all the way back down, but by the time I got there the alarm had been cleared and everyone accounted for. We later learned it was just a failed smoke detector. I headed back up after catching my breath to scout out the Lower Railroad Creek Trail. This route used to be a semi-popular hike for those in the village, who would leave in the morning and be at Lucerne in time to catch a bus ride back up. The Forest Service is still keeping it on the books, but it was largely destroyed by fire. Here again I could have learned the current status by just looking at my Green Trails map, but instead I saw for myself exactly what the map indicates: good, cleared trail about three-quarters of the way to Wilson Creek, then a rough flagged route to the creek itself, then no discernable trail. It’s basically just gone.

Marmot at the start of the Lower RR creek trail.

Wilson Creek crossing.

On the return I made a couple side excursions. One to the current diversion dam and one out to the mine ventilator portal. The former is accessed by a steep 4WD track with a few trees across it, and the latter by a much better road. The diversion dam on Copper Creek collects flow for Holden’s hydroelectric plant, municipal water, and fire-suppression systems. The ventilator portal was used as exhaust for an enormous fan that kept air circulating in the mine. It’s said that when the fan was occasionally shut down for maintenance everyone in the valley would wake up from the silence. Descending from there, I poked around some new roads and trails along Railroad Creek that were constructed as a result of the mine remediation.

View from the capped and re-graded tailings.

Diversion-dam road and Foreskin.

Diversion dam and penstock.

Art.

A short, abandoned spur road leads to an overlook view of the dam. Some people climb Copper Peak from here.

"Tonehenge" at its new home just across from the main portal. My dad built this windchime near this spot in 2011 out of the old scraps that used to cover the area, managed to disassemble and hide it in the village when everything was hauled away for remediation, and finally after 10 years secured permission to rebuild it.

The ventilator portal.

2021-08-02: Monkey Bear Falls and Winston Camp Monkey Bear Falls is a classic Holden hike two miles down the valley to a waterfall on Ninemile Creek. (Note: The “mile”-based names in the were bestowed based on road mileage from Lucerne. That mileage was recalculated when the road was improved for remediation, and by the time one reaches the village the difference is almost a full mile.) It begins on the Tenmile Falls trail, but quickly branches off to take a lower route closer to the road. Along the way, it skirts the quarry that was blasted out of the hillside to generate riprap for the current remediation efforts. I took a brief side trip to explore the quarry and the road that led to it, both of which have been decommissioned.

Quarry.

The trail is structurally in good shape with a lot of vegetation encroachment in places. It leads gently along the hillside before turning upward near the end into a series of short switchbacks with stairs and a viewing platform constructed of stone. Old maps show the Lightning Ridge trail coming back down the hillside in this area after passing the Edil Mine, a prospect that J. H. Holden eventually sold to help finance the main mine. I didn’t see any evidence of the trail, but where it should be looks much more passable than what I found lower down. Definitely a target for next time.

Monkey Bear Falls.

Taking the connector trail and walking back along the road, I startled and was startled by a mama bear and two cubs lounging in a swale alongside. None of us saw each other until we were just a couple yards distant. The cubs took for a tree, while mama made some dissatisfied noises as I smoothly crossed to the other side and complimented her children.

Monkey bears.

I returned to Holden in time to greet some old friends getting off the bus, then after lunch struck out to explore the old Winston townsite west of the village. While the village itself was primarily constructed to house single miners and engineers/executives with families, it was soon recognized that miners with families would need a more suitable location than Honeymoon Heights, which was abandoned 11 years before the mine closed. Employees were given the option to lease a plot and either build their own house (which many did) or pay to have one built for them (by Winston Brothers Construction Co., hence the name). The town was part of the deed to Holden Village, but it was decided early on that the structures could not be practically maintained, and not long after the Forest Service bulldozed the entire place and burned everything one winter. (Note: While Holden owns some land associated with the mine, the village itself and the former townsite are on Forest Service property. Holden leases the land from the USFS, as did the Howe Sound Co., but owns the buildings. Plus there’s a historic district involved, and a bunch of other fascinating legal mechanisms by which the place can exist at all.)

One of the larger remaining structures at Winston.

Especially after the most recent fires, there’s not much left of Winston, but much of the old street grid can still be traveled and various more robust structures and artifacts can be seen. I wanted to map out this grid, so I walked in circles a bunch and made sure I went down every passable spur. Then I headed out to the “ballpark”, which was indeed an actual baseball field with bleachers in the mining days but is now just an overgrown clear area. It was used as a backcountry campground after the fire, but since then the “official” USFS campground has reopened just to the west. The old, old campground was in the forest east of the ballpark, but it was abandoned due to chronic flooding. Now it’s a nice shady area with access to a great gravel bar along the creek. I hung out there for a while and enjoyed the solitude.

Abandoned segment of road leading to the ballpark.

2021-08-03: Martin Ridge The classic off-trail Holden excursion is to and along Martin Ridge. I had excellent, illustrated beta for the route from one of the staff, with which I set off at 5:20am, again aiming to be back for lunch. The first part is an easy hike to Tenmile Falls (this trail is nominally ADA accessible) before heading up the switchbacks towards Tenmile Pass. I left the trail at what I thought was the uppermost switchback, only to find it again a bit higher. Whoops. Just past the actual uppermost switchback I again departed the trail and headed NW straight up the ridge. It’s steep with some brush and requires a couple scramble moves in spots, but not a problem for anyone who goes off trail even semi-regularly. Someone had even tastefully cairned the route higher up: not too many, only where needed, and indicating the best route among many potential dead-ends. Near the top, I traversed west into the upper reaches of a gully that cut off some unnecessary elevation gain/loss. I reached the ridge crest a couple hours after leaving Holden, surprising myself at having gained 1500’ an hour. Then I quickly hit the spot elevation after navigating a daunting-looking section of ridge that turned out to have a hidden easy way off climber’s left.

First light on Foreskin. It's completely acceptable to say that.

Representative terrain getting up the ridge.

The ridge here is broad and goes with ease. There’s something of a bootpath in places, but it’s fairly obvious how to make progress. Moving along to the NW, things narrow and loosen as they transition from the low Cascades (covered and eroded by glaciers) to the high Cascades (stayed above glacial coverage). It was neat to think about emerging from a glacier as I continued higher. Enough traffic has been seen to make a generally solid platform on the loose schist. Any obstacles can be bypassed most easily and safely climber’s left.

Hilgard Pass and surrounds.

One of a couple "bomb craters" along the ridge.

Buckskin and Copper.

The only feature I went right to bypass. Would have been less sketchy to the left.

Final bit of ridge to the high point.

I topped out on the high point almost exactly four hours after leaving Holden, having admired some amazing views along the way. The summit block was a flying-ant nest so I didn’t linger for long, plus the descent looked like it would be a bit less straightforward. (Note: It is theoretically possible to continue all the way to Martin Peak. Beckey indicates “considerable climbing along crests and through gaps” if one stays on the ridge. One might be able to find a scramble route by staying below the crest on the RR Creek side, but that one is not me with my current abilities. Something for the future? Anyone tried this?) I went down the west ridge of the high point for a bit, then dropped south onto steep sand (good support) and slabby choss (bad support). The idea is to get around and under a large cliff into a flat area at 6700’ called “Don’s Bench” or “Dawn’s Bench”. The sand and scree give way to a steep meadow that is easily descended, perhaps more tentatively if like me you don’t want to trample wildflowers.

Looking towards Martin Peak (just out of sight) from the high point. Note the bugs.

Hart Lake and Holden Lake in the same picture!

Big Creek valley.

Looking back down the ridge.

Chris Gustafson's incredible illustrated beta.

Looking towards the descent route. But if you head down straight from here you will find yourself in a precarious spot.

Said precarious spot.

Looking back up the optimal descent route.

Cool animal trails in the scree. How do they decide which one to take?

Working my way down around the cliff.

Once on the bench there are several options, but I decided to just walk right over the edge past an old fire pit and straight down through the forest. This route turned out to go quite well, with only minor bushwhacking and blowdowns to negotiate. I was worried about getting cliffed out, but any steep slopes remained forested and passable. The key is not to wander into one of three possible avalanche chutes, all of which present thick brush and much more dangerous terrain. I hit the Holden Lake trail a bit less than two hours after summiting, navigated the infamously endless switchbacks, and easily made the village by lunchtime. That was good, because the skies quickly clouded up and by the evening were producing an epic series of thunderstorms that lasted half the night.

Bonanza and upper Railroad Creek from the Holden Lake trail.

2021-08-05: More minor trails This was just supposed to be a quick run to keep in shape for the hike out. It turned into a bit of a bushwhacking adventure as I explored an old road that ends across Railroad Creek from the ballpark. I’m still trying to figure out exactly what this road was for, as it ends directly below the ventilator portal and has evidence of some high-voltage electrical transmission infrastructure. Probably just need to spend a day with the Howe Sound Co. archives at UW, when that’s possible again. I also poked around a couple social trails along the creek.

Railroad Creek and Bonanza.

Holden vehicle bridge.

Holden footbridge.

Evening light on Foreskin. Still not weird.

Copper Creek in its new bed, with Copper Falls visible. To me the remediation area looks like it could be a theme park but before any of the rides were installed.

2021-08-07: Holden to Lyman Lake My final act of not being a normal guest was to hike out of the village rather than take the bus and boat. The day dawned with intermittent rain but I figured that would actually be refreshing after two weeks of mostly heat and smoke. After bidding some folks farewell, I headed west out of the village as the buses headed east down the valley. Knowing I had under 10 miles to go for the day, I practically sauntered up to Hart Lake, where I sat down to have lunch. It was warm enough to be in short sleeves, and the occasional drizzle was indeed refreshing. I scouted from Hart the possibility of summiting points 6376 and 6788 (and a potential route from that side up Greenwood?), but it looked like a horrible brush bash so I was glad to have not pursued it earlier in the trip. The trail needs a lot of brushing, and I was drenched from the waist down from wading through wet foliage. On the plus side, I consumed copious amounts of ripe huckleberries.

Nicer section of trail.

Mists on lower Bonanza.

Saying goodbye to the valley. To me this view is a better payoff than the lake itself.

Crown Point Falls and Hart Lake.

Not a weird exposure; it actually looked like that. Brush bash below.

Martin Ridge over Hart Lake.

There is a tricky-to-dangerous creek ford right after Hart Lake from a washout in 2019. On a dry day I think a log slightly upstream would go, but today it was slippery as hell and I figured my shoes and socks were wet anyway so I just waded across. Continuing up towards Lyman there were intermittent areas of forest (camping in spots) but mostly the trail blazes through slide alder and other brushy stuff. Again I got drenched. At the top of the switchbacks I met several familiar faces heading back to Holden and was glad to have a chance to say a proper goodbye.

Creek crossing.

Isella waterfalls.

Typical brush on the trail. Described as a "car wash" by another hiker I met later.

The Dumbbell/Greenwood massif.

Crown Point and falls. I believe the cave and discolored area above the talus slope are the remains of the Aurelia Crown Mine, which produced a modest quantity of molybdenum well before the Holden Mine began operation.

Looking back at Hart Lake.

Lyman Lake.

The campground at Lyman Lake is extensive and a bit confusing, but in essence it’s a big loop trail indicated at either end by signs. Water source is the lake itself, with a great place to step out onto rocks right at the headwaters of Railroad Creek. There was one other party camped there, a family, and I chatted with a couple of them while I poked around and found an optimal campsite. After setting up, I figured I’d take a look at Upper Lyman since I had the time and it wasn’t too far. There is a new (2019) log bridge over Railroad Creek that was actually harvested in the valley near Holden, prepared on top of one of the tailings piles, then helicoptered over.

Railroad Creek headwaters.

Really cool amphitheater slabs with the S ridge of Cloudy Peak above.

Meadows with Bonanza and Martin.

I worked my way up through beautiful meadows, passing a few folks headed the other way, and eventually reached the large cairn that guides hikers coming over Spider Gap. The wind very suddenly picked up to gale-force levels, and I thought I was in for a big storm, but it was all bluster and no muster. The sight of the clouds moving over Cloudy Peak was awesome to behold. The landscape at Upper Lyman is so obviously and recently shaped by glaciers that I was chiding them in my head for not cleaning up after themselves. I lingered a bit, chatted with a couple other hikers I’d encountered, then headed back to camp.

Upper Lyman Lake and "Glacier".

Spider Gap and cairn.

"If any man's hand / Ever made that land / Then I think it would have showed"

I still had time, so I then went around the other side of the lake on the Lyman Falls Trail to view its namesake. There are some nice campsites along here. The most interesting trail feature is a pond crossing featuring an underwater causeway. There is also a handmade raft with a water bottle on it moored to a tree along the shore of the lake. Any ideas? Back at camp the bugs were pretty bad so I ate dinner and hopped in the tent. Not a moment too soon, as it began to rain heavily shortly thereafter.

Causeway thing.

Cloudy Cloudy.

Informative and instructional!

The USS WTF.

2021-08-08: Lyman Lake to Image Lake I woke up around 7am to the rain still pounding the tent, so I pulled a forecast from the inReach, which indicated things would let up around 9. I thought that was fine by me and went back to sleep until then. When I did emerge it was back to intermittent drizzle. I put my sopping wet socks and shoes back on (ugh) and proceeded to break camp and be on my way. I reached gorgeous and misty Cloudy Pass soon thereafter and looked around for the benchmark but couldn’t find it. I considered going for Cloudy Peak but I had a vague recollection that the summit block is actually a bit difficult so I passed on doing that in the rain. I continued down the other side of the pass on excellent trail until I reached a junction indicating the “Suiattle Pass Hiker Shortcut”, which seemed like just what I was after. This is a rough route along the headwall of South Fork Agnes Creek that warranted caution with slippery rocks, mud, and some exposure. I found a seemingly orphaned bear can here with minimal contents, which was eerie. The shortcut negates the need to descend all the way to the valley floor and back up again.

Approaching Cloudy Pass.

Looking back from Cloudy Pass.

Terrain on the hiker shortcut.

South Fork Agnes Creek valley.

Where the shortcut meets the PCT I encountered a party of two and a soloist who had struck up a little convention. The soloist had flown in from DC to do a PCT section or two and “as a native daughter of Washington brought the rain with her”, as she put it. I passed a bunch of people headed north on the PCT, even on the short section to the Miners Ridge Trail. At least one was a thru-hiker just about to complete the entire thing. “She’s not giving these last hundred miles up easy”, he said. Continuing towards Image Lake I passed a collapsed cabin near the junction with some artifacts of various eras scattered about. The ridge trail is in decent shape, but there are logs to be dealt with. I stopped at the next collapsed cabin (near the junction with the Miners Cabin Trail) and poked around a bit. From one spot I noticed through the trees above the unmistakable hue of a waste-rock/tailings pile, so up I went. These are noted as the “Glacier Peak Mines” on the topo map, and this area was considered surprisingly recently for a huge open-pit mine. It’s hard to tell exactly the vintage of these adits, but exploration was done from around 1900 to 1970.

Anyone know what this is? I found a couple in some of the old mine camps.

Collapsed cabin. Interestingly, this one was made of plywood.

Neat creek crossing.

Logs.

Reason for logs.

Stuff made of logs.

There are a couple sections of this cool mossy forest.

Waste-rock pile.

Moisture.

I had lunch here, then continued up the switchbacks into the meadow traverse on the ridge. Hiking in the clouds, I was sure I was missing out on some spectacular views, but I entertained myself by telling myself stories about myself. What a life. Sooner or later I reached the Image Lake area and had my pick of the campsites (one other person arrived later). Note that the only water source this time of year is the lake itself, with is a bit of an uphill walk from camp. I pulled another forecast, which indicated that the clouds would be with me all night but that there might be clearing early enough in the morning to offer me the renowned vistas the area has to offer. It was cold, too. Nevertheless, I thought I’d go see what was up at the Miners Ridge lookout.

Ridge traverse in the clouds.

The legendary view I had come so far to see.

I made the easy hike over there and was greeted by the lookout, Russ Dalton. Lookout like the job description. He said it was his fifth season up there, and he was coordinating and performing the work for most of a total refurbishment of the place. They’d just finished the roof up and he was working on the ceiling. The lookout partially serves to protect itself, as it’s a historic structure that would be defended in a fire. It also helps protect the multi-gajillion-dollar PCT bridge over the Suiattle River below. The original fire finder is still intact and has been used recently to report a fire. Pretty neat. I ended up chatting with Russ for about an hour about various related topics, including what was going on at Holden, ways to more easily open and close the shutters (I told him I’m an engineer), the history of the lookout (building) and the area, and what I would be able to see on a clear day. I learned that all the lookouts were connected by a party line strung tree to tree all through the wilderness, which makes some sense but had escaped me previously. I resolved to return in the morning if the clouds had burned off by then.

[achildinthesehills]

2021-08-09: Image Lake to the Green Mountain turnoff I awoke a little before 6am to find visibility even worse than the day before. But I could tell it was a thin layer this time, so I held out hope. I got my reserve dry socks for out day, which promptly got soaked the moment I put them in my shoes. Whatever. At 7am, like someone flipped a switch, suddenly all the mists cleared and I could see clear to Glacier Peak. What a glorious moment. Soon enough the sun came over the ridge and my optimism for the long day increased. I had instructed my ride to meet me at the Suiattle River Trailhead at 3pm, but I was sure I could easily make that mileage owing to the downhill.

Image Lake meadows.

Glacier Peak from camp.

On the way out, I circumnavigated the lake and got some of the classic views I’d always seen pictures of. Then it was back up to the lookout (picking and eating blueberries along the way) to see what I’d been denied the previous day. I chatted with Russ some more and mentioned my plan to go out the Suiattle today. “You know that’s closed, right?” “…uhhh, no?” “Yeah, the road is closed a couple miles from the trailhead and the trail is closed at the PCT junction. I have to tell you that by going that way you will be in violation.” “Awesome.” Somehow in all my planning I’d missed this closure, even though it’s been over a year now. But why would things go according to plan on the last day of 18 days in the wilderness? I looked at my other options and decided I had neither the time nor the provisions nor the logistical flexibility to go another way. I texted my ride to expect the road to be closed and that I’d meet him as far as he could get.

There we go.

Oh yeah.

View to the west from the lookout (building).

Knowing now about the extra mileage and the possibility of bad trail, I hoofed it as fast as I could down the ridge. There are a lot of blowdowns in this section, and the switchbacks are endless. Very glad I gained all that elevation much more gradually over three days. Eventually I reached the PCT junction and found the trail in much better shape, of course, but with some logs to negotiate. I was surprised to not find a queue of PCT hikers waiting for someone with a saw or crane or some explosives. (I’m kidding, sorta. Everyone gets so wet and/or hard for the PCT that we are left to negotiate many more wet and/or hard things on other trails. Yes, I entertained myself for a couple hours coming up with that joke. But think of all the trail maintenance that could have been done for 5% of the cost of that new bridge.) I passed a couple people on this section, but that was it for the day.

I've always loved the look of this valley on topo maps. Here's a horrible picture of it.

Fog completely cleared.

I did take the spur to go look at the new bridge. Maybe it was awe, maybe spite, I’m not sure. By that point I was singing a song I had written, which was just a bunch of profanity to the tune of “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star”. I was not looking forward to hiking 10+ miles of closed trail/road and I was kicking myself for failing to prepare adequately.

Bridge.

Now, I’m not going to be one to give information out about the conditions in a restricted area, but I made it through. It’s closed for a reason. Snapped a trekking pole along the way. The road is gated at the west end of the bridge over Downey Creek, but my ride wasn’t there yet so I continued a couple miles farther to the Green Mountain turnoff. By then I had gone 21 miles in 7 hours with a heavy pack, wet feet, and approach shoes one size too small (they don’t make them in my size), so everything hurt and I just sat and waited and reflected on the entire trip. I had originally envisioned the journey as an all-out peakbagging assault on everything in the area, which obviously didn’t materialize. I’d been disheartened in the first three days to not get the fulfillment I thought I would out of being alone in the wilderness and for having to bail on my plans. The last three days were much more rewarding due to the circumstances and having had the time to unwind in between, even if this final day was just a slog to the finish line. I’d learned a lot about my capabilities and limits and what I could do to extend them. I’d actually been able to use my first vacation in two years to relax and have type-I fun instead of the type-II fun I tend to mostly pursue for some reason. And after a total of 130 miles and 32000’ of elevation gain, the two cheeseburgers waiting for me in the car were just what I needed.

[fourteen410]

Dreamy Curious - was there any particular reason you didn't go to Holden Lake while you were out there?

[achildinthesehills]

[Hiker Mama]

Very cool! My husband's family has been going to Holden since the 60's, and we've gone pretty much every other year since we've been married. Super neat place. I enjoyed seeing all the peaks around the village from a different perspective!

[Kat]

Enjoyed the personal perspective of your TR. History tidbits were interesting, and documenting what has happened to the trails is helpful.

[Kim Brown]

It took a while, but I read all of your terrific report. Thanks for sharing and to echo Kat, for the history. I hope your mom is doing well now! When I got to Holden, the first person I spotted happened to be my dad. “Hey, you made it!” “Yeah, how were things in the village over the weekend?” “Pretty good! Also your mom broke her leg yesterday.”