Long time readers may recall I used to hike in a tutu. It's true. And I was FANCY! Why? We were raising money to fight breast cancer. My days in a tutu have since come to an end (and there was much rejoicing), but the fight against cancer continues.

Like last year, I participated in the Fred Hutch Obliteride to raise money. Except I'm not much of a bike rider. Or a runner. Or a... people person. So instead of trudging into town, I headed the other way and went for a hike. (I know. Shocker.)

But before we get to the hike, you can donate here. It's tax deductible and 100% of every dollar you give will help advance lifesaving research and compassionate care at Fred Hutchinson Cancer Center, thanks to Obliteride’s sponsors. Thank you for donating to my Obliteride today! (Yeah, I copied that from the site.)

Ok, now to the hiking bits.

I wanted a destination that would be a bit of a challenge and not something I'd done before. I decided on this route because it would connect several other lines I've traveled and also give me a view toward the section of the PCT HOS and I would be hiking later in the month.

The first portion followed a very popular route. Last time I was here I swore I wouldn't do it again, yet here I was. It's flat along the river until BOOM up to the lake where most people stop. Then more BOOM up to the ridge. I usually come in from another trailhead and there's a good reason. Few views up this trail.

On the ridge, though, it gets good. The views are occasionally good and the pika and marmot populations get thicker. They were everywhere. The pikas meeped. The marmots screamed. Good times.

Where we usually turn left to scramble to the summit, we turned right. Stretched out across the steep slope was an unofficial trail. Well, it was more unofficial. The trail we were on wasn't official either, but at least you could follow it. There were parts of this more unofficial trail that weren't possible to follow. Still, we knew where we were going so we just went... that way.

Across huge rocks. Past pika and marmots. Back to the thing scratch of a trail through heather and wildflowers. When we got to the rocky gully it was apparent the trail went up. (Actually, it kept going, but we wanted the one that went up. Expect me to follow that other trail some time in the future.)

It was a bit of a scramble up the gully before returning to an on-again off-again trail. There was only one realistic route up the slope so when we lost the trail we'd continue up until finding it again. Cresting the ridge a wonderful breeze blew from the north and the views opened up.

Look north deep into the Alpine Lakes Wilderness. The PCT was visible as a thin line traversing below the line of peaks bordering the Stone Kingdom. An aręte connected the peak where I stood to the PCT and a lake peeked out of the trees in the basin to the east.

Look south to our favorite places, big lakes, and might Tahoma on the horizon. Look a little east and the tip of Pahto is just visible. From this point you almost can't see the logging and development beyond the boundary of the Wilderness.

Tink and I didn't stay too long. I did sit for a few moments as part of my goal of enjoying the peace of the mountains a little more than usual. I find that if I sit down I'm more likely to feel more a part of the world than when I stay standing. Try it (or try standing if you usually take a seat) and let me know what you find.

On the way back, we returned to a spot that always has snow into September. Except it didn't. There were only two snow patches I saw and both were far too much of an unnecessary descent to really contemplate. (This seemingly reasonable decision led to the need to touch snow later in the month.) The tarns were also very low. Several were actually dry. Don't worry, Tink found one wet enough to take a dip.

The hike out the popular trail we had followed in was another reminder to skip that section in the future. We stopped at just about every creek to drink and splash. Tink didn't complain too much, but I know she would have rather been in the open meadows we usually traverse.

Almost back at the trailhead, a hiker stopped me to say he liked my shirt and said he worked at Fred Hutch. Cool. We had a quick bonding moment before he continued up and I exited.

So... If you're one of the folks that have wanted to support Moosefish consider instead making a donation to Obliteride. Every dollar helps. With your help we'll be able to provide world-class oncology care and continue making advancements in the fight to obliterate this terrible disease.

📍On the lands of the Wenatchee people.