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to Blum Traverse Part II
Photos and story by Jason "To see LARGER photos, go to Alpine State of Mind" Alas,
regardless of their doom, >>>>PART TWO (this page) Day Five through Seven: Nert Lake, Berdeen and Blum Lakes to Baker River The way to Berdeen Lake either goes high or low. We decided to go low entering a beautiful valley just as a Black Bear crossed boulders in the midst of a waterfall. With my small lens on, I had no hope of photographing. He was in the trees by the time my larger lens was on and Jessy was able to catch a few fleeting photos of him. Too much like what every other seems to get of the is awesome creature.
From the meadow we climbed up a steep gully to Berdeen Lake. With our exploring done, we continued on to the outlet where we struck camp for the day. We had plenty of time to relax. For Jessy this meant a swim out to an island and fishing. For me, a nap and photos. Near dusk we decided on a short hike and at the Upper Lake spotted the very same bear again. We watched him from across the lake for most of an hour before going back to camp and bed.
-- In the morning hours, we regretted having to leave. Two days would be well spent here. Following the creek past the lake, we continued over boulder fields until we reached snow. Rock cliffs and more boulder fields separated the lower snowfield from a higher glacier. We managed to traverse rock and then glacier up to a narrow pass that put us between Skitzo and Hagan Peaks.
Jessy really wanted to climb. Dropped packs and a quick jaunt to Hagan was much enjoyed, not only for the climbing, but for the views. Nearly all that we had crossed in the days previous could be sighted. I didn't mind climbing Hagan again, my last was on skis and summer is so much different.
Back at our packs, we traversed glacier rock slabs interspersed with small potholes and creeks much like all the others we'd climbed. Steep boulder fields were carefully crossed on our downward hike to Blum Lakes. Buoys floating in them were a curious sight and we didn't understand why they would be there? Just to get to such a place is very difficult and not many come to visit. It turns out they were poisoning the lakes to kill off non-native fish so they could plant others. In a way it makes sense, I'm just glad we didn't drink the water or stay to swim. Up at Vista Tarn, we made camp in a grassy field and spent the remaining hours watching the fire and smoke from blazes to the Northeast.
-- I've been up and down from Mount Blum twice (Blum: NW Shoulder, Skitzo, Hagan and Blum: Baker River Smorgasbord) and the experience was less than enticing. This time I figured I had it down. Over 5000-ft of forest and bushes split by cliffs. Since going the wrong way isn't an enjoyable endeavor, I paid too much attention to where I thought I was and not enough attention to where I was going. This descent can reward excessive amounts of suck. It's best to stay on the ridge. If you descend off of it, you become blocked by steep ravines full of slide alder and rocks. Jessy and I spent 7 hours descending less than 2 miles. If on course, I imagine 3 hours to be more appropriate. I've found the climb to be much easier than the descent. One bleak moment was when, for the 2nd time, we stepped on top of a bees nest. With no recourse but to keep descending, the Yellow Jackets get plenty of time to overwhelm you. It isn't as if you could run away. A slip would be unfortunate.
Eventually we had traversed back to the right area. More steep forest led to vague boot paths that seemed to have faded since my visits 4 years ago. Once we bashed our way through the last remaining Devil's Club, we arrived at Baker River and shortly after, the bridge. Feeling like warriors, we marched to the car, eyes sparkling in the late day's sun with satisfaction over completing what we had set out to do. If you are thinking this trip is over, don't get too excited. It's time to hit the water. Day Eight and Nine: Baker River, Baker Lake to Watson Road and Trailhead
Chilled water high from the mountains all meet in Baker Lake. Once a natural lake, the river was dammed twice in 1925 and 1959 to create Lake Shannon and Baker. As promised, my twin brother Josh arrived with his kayak to join Jessy and I. Cramming our gear into our boats and dry packs was a challenge as we were sparing no comforts. By mid-morning we were on the river.
Even though the river isn't too long, there were plenty of massive trees to slow us down. Over and under we went by whatever way was easiest until we arrived at the lake. Far above us were Shuksan and Baker whose glaciers shinned in the sun. Even Blum and peaks could be picked out between hills. While I've never kayaked so much lake in a whitewater boat, it wasn't so bad. We stuck along the east shore and admired the stumps whose outlines beneath or above water boggled the imagination. They were true goliaths in their day.
Halfway to camp we stopped for several seal launches. For those that don't know, this is when you slide from cliff or ground into the water, much like a seal does into the ocean, thus the name. Jessy and Josh couldn't get enough of this. They found one other spot a few more miles down the shore.
The last few hours to Maple Grove Camp was spent battling the wind whose presence I'd earlier said of, "At least we don't have a headwind." Now that we did, the brothers could only blame me. It was enough to soak us to the bone. We were relieved to pull our boats onto the shore and set up camp. We had a huge fire and enjoyed a calm night.
-- The last day was both sad and happy for me. With so much adventure this year, it was hard to see this one come to pass and be finished. What else was there? No more big trips were planned. This was it. Since Jessy had to get home to his family early, we all rushed down the lake to the dam where we pulled out. Parting ways, Jessy and Josh jumped in their car and headed back down to the beginning of the lake. I was on my own now, at least no human companions. The mosquitoes were ruthless as I climbed into the bushes to retrieve my bike. Somewhere around 3700-ft of vertical gain was ahead of me and 10 miles of road. My legs groaned after being cooped up in the kayak for 2 days, but eventually they loosened up. Washboard, dust, and strain weren't enough to put a stop to me. It was over halfway before I stopped to take a photo and near the end before I pulled up once more. Far below me the blue waters of Baker Lake appeared small, but I knew different. The distance was ingrained in my every muscle. They had brought me here.
At
the car, heart bounding I sat down in the drivers seat, not wanting
to drive home. Not wanting to leave. Could I do it again? Could
I just throw my pack on and put foot to trail, paddle to lake, and
cleat to peddle? I could, but would it be the same? You only live
through these days once and they are gone. Even as my mind raced
over every moment - every taste, touch and sight I knew I'd certainly
smelled the roses along the way. No matter if I was back at the
car cause I'd gone full circle and isn't it the best of journey's
that bring you back to their beginning? From lakes to crashing waterfalls,
to glaciers and summits, each were fondly recalled as I turned the
car on and drove home. ~thanks for reading,
jason hummel
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