FALL 1 -- Roaming the Central Pasayten

Every part of my body aches, and yet I push on. With each switchback the views of McCall Basin grow larger, and yet the top still alludes us. My steps have steadily followed the pace of my heart, matching step with each beat. Trekking poles extending outward, lengthening my reach. I stop go gather some water, as sparrows fly in mass around me. I hear only their wings beat the movement of air, and feel the slight breeze upon me. My two friends trek behind me, making their way up the open basin. Heads in the air, and eyes a wondering, finding themselves in heavens glen. Indeed we have traversed 15 miles this day, covering three passes and through many a forest creekside. To witness these days in the Central Pasayten, was our intended aim.

Reaching the summit of McCall Basin, the view hedges off extending. The ridgelines are clear, the route innumberable, the skies as blue as can be. On the horizon sits the Catherdrals extending across the 49th Parrallel into Canada. Rounded granite masses, and rocky spires, surrounded by the large U shaped valleys of the Ashnola and Spanish Creek. Here the only trees to grace these meadows is a mix of Abies lasiocarpe and Larix occidentalis. The larch is the king of this domain poking its head in groves where winter snows beat down without end. The bowls and cirques of Sand Ridge and Sheep Mountain show lines that would count man runs of a skier delight. But the sunset upon this meadow ridgeline is all that feeds me tonight.

As the darkness blankets the land, the sun giving the Cathedrals it's last glow, we set up camp and begin to reminisce about our sore feet and muscle whoas. With tarps pitched among the Larches, looking far off to the east, a blazing light flies overhead, tracked by another shape. It takes us awhile, but it seems that we could reach up, if only to touch this bright star. Later to figure that it was our Shuttle and Station dancing and maneuverings through the dark side of our planet. Later on, the stars come out, brighter then one could ever see at home. That orange and purple tint the Milky Way, featuring the stars of Cassiopeia with her noble crown. The skies are what highlight this trip, blazing in the darkness of the skies away from the city lights. And hours are spent looking about, watching Jupiter along the elliptical axis. Soon the streaks reach to the north, fireballs descending from the heavens. Somewhere in the midnight observation, I find myself resting in the heavens.

Morning comes and wanderings begin, as we trek to find Jake's Lake. A small pond at the end of a ridge, to go cross country we must take. First comes a boulder field of solid granite, scrambling brings the pulses higher. Once we reach the top, the views expound... Nohokomeen, Picketts, and Baker... The entire line of the North Cascades, a crested Wall of rock and Ice stand before us. Views unbounding in 360 degrees, and our desire to explore expounding. The Pasayten gives that sacred gift that Yamabushi implore, “... Mountains and Rivers Unbounding.” From ridgeline to long valleys, these lonely mountains do play to the explorers needs to find themselves somewhere bigger then themselves.

We follow the ridgeline out towards the pond, freely walking among the alpine grasses. Over hill and knoll, climbing rock and stone, soon the plateau comes into view. Jake spoke hightly of his desire to visit, a small pond at the end of a lonely ridgeline. Now sitting above it, with the fields in view, reflecting the haunts of the Cathedrals I see the true beauty. Silence falls through us all, as we each take separate paths down below, and come into to contact with wilderness on our own. The silence of the place serves to remind us all, how remote and pristine it is. Only the breeze seems to whistle through, the few standing firs and larches. And soon, we find ourselves memorized along it's glass calm shores.

These are the places that speak to men souls, that tell of her hidden secrets. That sense of landscape to open a man up, towards the world and it's endless possibilities. In a country so large, that you feel like an ant, walking among it's folds. It is surprising how, it drives to the core and makes you fee so humble. This is the spirit of places like the Pasayten, as Ken Burn's titled, “America's Greatest Idea.” To save this land so others can experience, what it had to impart to the travelers. Grand cannot begin to tell, how open skies and backcountry miles can seep into a mans soul. The gospel once spoke, my a lone man Muir, can still resound in a mans heart in these times. We are in love with her graceful lines, and the words she speaks through the winds.

Through the rest of the trip, we move camp twice and circumnavigate the mass of Sheep Mountain. Perfect lakes and open lands, lead thought forward against tiring limbs, pushing us to campsite after campsite. Soon the wonders of a setting sun cast across Whistler Basin, and we like pilgrims, make camp below her sacred bowls. The view to the West is of the Cascade Crest, with the golden and red hues outlining. Even though the next day will take us out, our hearts still wish to follow trails unwinding. The marmots call, echos the sense of emptiness of a ancient Pleistocene cirque. The meadow casts it's hues as the sun lays down, and soon the stars take command. These place are sacred if ever I did tell, not by just by the act of existence. It is the imagination and the way they change a man, that gives perspective on to where they are going. I think to others that I wish could be here, but cherish the time with friends. For the mountains have that enduring call, and some cannot refuse her stirrings.