IBEXtrax.com - Cascade Mountains of Washington State Alpine Lakes Wilderness

Chikamin Peak - Lemah One

11 August 1973

During the summer of '73 I would return home to my parent's house very satisfied from a weekend in the Cascade Mountains. Around Tuesday on a given week, I would start to fidget and the mountain bug would hit me. With a great sense of urgency, I would start planning for my next excursion into the mountains.

Looking through my newly acquired Cascade Alpine Guide, I was overwhelmed by the picture on page one hundred and two. I just had to go to Chikamin Lake. I planned on bagging three summits: Chikamin Peak; Lemah One; and Lemah Mtn. I studied the photo and accompanying description. My car was in need of repair. So, I first had to find a way to reach the trailhead, which was up the Cooper River road out of Cle Elum. Not belonging to a climbing club or group, I had a little trouble finding climbing companions. Luckily Lewis was living in my parent's house on Goat Hill at the time, so I decided to recruit him; and more importantly his car.

My previous experiences with Lewis in the mountains were not totally favorable. But, I needed someone along for safety's sake. So, I decided to take a chance. Thursday is packing day and usually lasts into the night. Lewis skipped work on Friday and with me being between jobs at the time, we were on the road heading east by noon. The weather was hot and the sky was cloudless.

Just south of Salmon la Sac we turned to the left, crossed the Cle Elum River and followed the road to Cooper Lake. We stopped on the bridge at the outlet of Cooper Lake and viewed Lemah Mountain through a cut in the tree lined shore. Lemah is a Chinook jargon term for fingers. The mountain is comprised of five pointed summit whose relative height is a physical caricature is of human fingers. As we continued up the dusty logging road toward Pete Lake, I reminisced on a time long ago when it was a lengthy hike just to get to Cooper Lake. In the early Sixties, long before the logging roads pushed up the Cooper River, the trailhead was down at the Salmon La Sac Campground. When I first hiked the Cooper River Trail from Salmon la Sac, I recall being saddened because only the older scouts for our troop were allowed to go on to Pete Lake.

In August 1973 we found the trailhead sign located at Tired Creek. The trailhead was located in the middle of the last logging slash, so far, between Cooper Lake and Pete Lake. I changed into my ageing Rotondos boots (rotten-on-toes) while Lewis started down the short connecting trail. The trail twisted down through the middle of the clear cut logging slash. After I booted-up, I hoist my pack and noticed the increased weight of my new climbing rope; MSR ten point five.

The trail through the logging slash was hot and dusty. So, I was relieved when I entered the shade of the timber as the trail descended toward the Cooper River. One half mile from the car the connecting trail ended. I found Lewis sitting on his pack and looking with bewilderment at his trail map. I pulled out my compass to help him orient the map. We went right (west) up the dusty Pete Lake trail. I have an extreme dislike of someone tailgating me on the trail. So, I let Lewis lead the way. I followed, leaving room for the dust to settle at bit. But alas, I was annoyed that Lewis kept stopping to wait for me. The trail went up and down like a gentle rollercoaster for two miles and then we came to the branch trail for Escondido and Waptus lakes. From the junction, the rising plumes of dust decreased as we followed the trail around Pete Lake.

We stopped at the ancient log shelter, at the west end of the lake, and I repaired my camera strap. The sun winked behind the mountains as we left the shelter. The trail passed through an area of lush grasses and dried up mud holes. I was startled to meet two seemingly wild dogs. They barked and flashed their teeth at me as they rushed past. I stood paralyzed; muttering a camouflage of "nice doggy". In the blink of an eye the Forest Service trail crew flashed by; on their way out for the weekend. They took their dogs with them.

At one and a half miles from Pete Lake we crossed Chimney Creek on a log. A temporary sign read: Spectacle Lake 4 miles. Soon we crossed a second log, this one over Lemah Creek. We came to a side trail that cut sharply back to the right. Blocking the trail was a piece of cardboard that read "Danger Blasting". I concluded from reading the guide, that this was the new Cascade Crest Trail. From the junction, surveying stakes and orange paint on intrusive rocks decorated the trail. Lewis and I smothered ourselves with NN-diethyl-meta-tolumide (DEET) as the mosquitoes attacked.

To the left of the trail, brief openings revealed Island Mountain Meadow with Its broad green carpet broached with the meandering Delete Creek. Close to the right, intermittent tree bands striped the granite slope and extended up into the wispy clouds. Two miles from the crossing of Lemah Creek, the trail began to climb in earnest with long steep switchbacks. Our pace slowed to counteract the steepness. The sound of Delete Creek to the south taunted our increasing thirst. We stopped beside a dripping fountain, and nibbled on glorp while our drinking cups slowly filled with water.

After the rest, we continued up to a hitching post and a sign that told of horse grazing restrictions around Spectacle Lake. Shortly after the horse stop, we came to an obscure side trail that was marked "Climbers Trail". A combination of signs explained the choice of trails. The main trail: longer, but easier. The Climbers Trail: shorter (by one mile), but steeper. One look into the gathering dusk, and we decided on the shorter route; no more switchbacks for us.

We went straight up, immediately encountering three large windfalls that completely obliterated the trail. This obstacle would be quick work if we were traveling light, but with our forty five pound packs, it was exasperating work. Under; over; under; up steep loose rock with root handholds we climbed.

Finally we struggled over the top and then followed the invisible path over the glacial polished granite. We soon reached Spectacle lake at the outlet. I crossed the creek on a log that was above a roaring cataract that announced the birth of Delete Creek. Unsure of his balance ability, Lewis chose to jump the creek down stream. We roamed the east shore line of Spectacle Lake for one half hour; looking for the best tent site. Once we decided on the site, Lewis erected the tent and I cooked supper. As the Sevea gas stove roared beneath the pot of water, I watched the fog and clouds boil over Chikamin Ridge. We downed the food and hit the sack. That night I slept soundly along the shores of Spectacle Lake (alt. 4259'). We had climbed almost six miles and ascended close to 1500 feet.

I was up before the sun touched the dew covered rain fly. I walked up to the top of a rise above the lake and draped my sleeping bag over a stunted hemlock. Lewis cooked breakfast while I rolled the Blue Foam and struck the tent. As we started out on the climb to Chikamin Lake, anticipating the two or three miles cross-country, the sun shown bright in the cloudless sky. The slight breeze that rippled the clear blue lake made it comfortable to hike.

At the north end of the lake we followed the well trod climbers trail up amongst the slide alder. The trail began to peter-out as we continued our northwest traverse. We spotted the remnants of a previous expedition. A paintbrush wheeling maniac had littered the scene with orange paint. We followed the sometimes confusing arrows along a wide ledge for a short distance. We then dropped down a talus slide and followed the creek on its north side. We encountered a few herds of bloodthirsty mosquitoes before we came to the box canyon. To the right were sheer cliffs, and ahead, the creek foamed in an impressive cascade.

To the left was the only alternative to turning back or surmounting the cliffs on the right. We went left, climbing steep slabs with full packs. We passed through a notch and traversed a slanting patch of hard snow. Lewis fell behind as I climbed a gully system to a tarn at the south end of a large cirque. As I rested I surveyed the view. Not far from the tarn was a large waterfall that fell over 250 feet from the top of the cirque to the floor. The water gurgled under the snow that covered the floor of the cirque. The headwall stretched up higher from the Chikamin Falls reaching up to Lemah Thumb at 6360 feet.

I began to wonder about Lewis. So, I walked back to the top of the gully and shouted his name. No answer. I yelled again and was surprised to hear Lewis yelling and waving from the opposite direction; over by Chikamin Falls. I boulder hopped to his position and found that he had followed an easier route up the center of the cirque.

We studied the headwall above and decided to climb the ledges just to the right of the falls. We started near the falls and gained a wide ramp. We traversed the ramp to the right and climbed up. I climbed around some pools of water on a connecting ledge left. Lewis fell behind. On the upper part my route I zigzagged, climbing short faces. I finally stood on the top before a glacier fed Lake the size of a football field. I crossed over the outlet on a snow bridge to survey the lake. I re-crossed and then continued toward Chikamin Lake.

By this time I had fallen in love with the alpine setting. I roamed with limitless energy, being fed with the increasing splendor. I passed a small tarn on its left and walked beside a babbling stream that cut through the green carpet.

Chikamin Lake, one quarter mile long at an altitude of 5701 feet, lay in its glacial dug trough. The deep blue water lay in contrast to the brilliant white ice that extended down to the northern shore. I was spellbound and stood in breathless admiration, devouring nature's work. Lewis trudged up and collapsed in exhaustion beside me. I pitched the tent and Lewis heated water beside an ageing fire pit; the only one in the area. I chewed on Pilot Bread and drank a cup of soup as I picked out the route up Chikamin Peak. I decided to follow the bedrock to the right of the snow lobe that extended down to the lower lake. Then I traced the route up the snow finger that ended in the col southeast of the summit rocks. I was only slightly shocked to find that Lewis had decided not to climb Chikamin Peak with me. After thinking it over, I decided to climb solo. I reconciled the decision to the tune of; "you will be safer without Lewis due to his inexperience".

I made quick time around the lake and then adopted a slower pace while climbing the steep bedrock. I stuck to the polished rock and frictioned up, avoiding the loose pebbles that gathered in the shallow depressions. When the rock gave way to snow, I took a short rest and took in the view. I spotted the tent, but saw no sign of Lewis. I crossed a stretch of snow, and then climbed over a rock island before I stopped and strapped on my crampons.

The snow at first was not very steep. But, the snow slope steepened as I started up the finger. I made a long climbing traverse under the summit before I swung back to the left. The higher I climbed the steeper the slope became. It was so steep near the col that I would plunge the spike of my ice axe into the snow for a third leg. My left foot was able to sink all ten points into the snow. But, I could not contort my right foot enough to set the up hill crampon. I had to scrape a small platform to feel secure.

Near the top of the snow finger, I turned a small burgschrund before I crossed the moat. Before I started to climb the summit rocks, I removed the crampons and then left them with my ice axe in the col. To climb the summit rocks the guide said it was class two. The route I took was at least class three due to the exposure. I followed ledges by edging around airy corners and then went up a few exhilarating steps to the summit.

At over 7000 feet, I stood on the highest point of the year. I silently named all the nearby summits and saw Mount Rainier slightly visible in the late summer haze. Spectacle Lake glistened in the afternoon sun below the Three Queens. I could see the tent clearly. However, Lewis was not visible. As I signed the summit register, movement on the northwest end of Chikamin Ridge caught my eye. Two adult mountain goats and a kid were strolling across a snow slope. I watched until they dropped out of sight. I looked down around the tent, and concluded that Lewis must be inside the tent.

The climb back down to the col was more exciting than the ascent. At the col I strapped my crampons to my rucksack, took my axe in hand, and crossed the moat. Just beyond the burgschrund, I mentally prepared for a pleasurable descent in the glissade position. For a few moments of contemplation I tried to out-stare the slope. I traced the slide route with my eyes; from the top all the way down to the rock island were Lewis stood. Lewis? He shouted something that I didn't understand. I yelled back that I was coming down.

I pushed off and in a flash I had dropped over one hundred feet. When I sat back and dropped from my feet to my seat, my speed seemed to triple. I mentally yelled; "too fast". The speed was still increasing. I slightly dug my heals into the snow. I was immediately blinded by the spray of snow. I thought about the rock island that was rushing toward me and quickly flipped into the self-arrest position. I fought to hold on to the ice axe as it bit into the snow. My right hand on the shaft of the axe exposed my knuckles to the abrasive snow. When I finally stopped, I had passed Lewis and was within fifty feet of the rock island. I looked down at my bloody hand. Lewis said that my descent looked "far out", but I remarked that it was too fast.

I asked Lewis if he wanted to go to the top. He said he was high enough, and was ready to go down. After he removed his crampons, I instructed him in self-arrest and glissade before we started down. We practiced self-arrest while going down the slope above the lower lake. As we hiked back to the tent, I said "let's do Lemah One". Lewis reluctantly agreed. At the tent I picked up my climbing rope and hardware, and left my ice axe and crampons behind.

I refilled my water bottle by dipping it in the lake, and then we headed for the south slope of Lemah One. The route followed a steep gully that footed on the North Shore of Chikamin Lake. I climbed on the right wall and Lewis wallowed in the rubble that covered the gully floor. We exited the gully to the left, just before it reached its headwall. We continued up open slopes until we were blocked by a slightly overhanging 15 foot step. After searching for a short time, I climbed up a key ledge to the right until I was able to do a table move over the top. I setup a hip belay using a jam nut for an anchor. I threw an end of the rope down to Lewis; telling him to tie in. When Lewis yelled "up rope", I gathered in the excess rope and reported "on belay". I took in the rope as Lewis ascended, being careful not to release my breaking hand from the rope. After a short while, his head immerged over the lip and he swung up to my position. We walked up the open south slope for a short distance roped together, but the rope soon became a bother. We stopped and unroped. After we unroped, Lewis fell behind. I climbed up the steep slope slow and steady using the "rest step". Later I instructed Lewis in the use of the "rest step" and we slowly gained the south slope together.

Arriving at the summit rocks, I searched for the easiest route and soon decided to ascend the skyline right. I climbed up and looked over the edge to see the Lemah Glacier nearly 1000 feet straight down. I straddled the sharp arete and made my way to the top. The exposure was tremendous. Once on the summit, I set-up another hip belay. When I threw the end of the rope to Lewis, I showered him with rocks. When Lewis reached the top, he clung to the rock; too petrified to stand up. At his turn to sign the summit register, He wrote on a piece of paper; "I'm scared to death: Lewis."

I pointed out distant places, but he seemed uninterested until I pointed out where the car was. To the west was an impressive drop of 4000 feet down to Burnt Boot Creak. I took a picture of Chikamin Peak before I belayed Lewis back down. I retraced my route down via the arete. We walked down the slope toward Lemah Thumb, so I could check-out the route down to the Lemah Glacier. We encountered apartment size blocks of earth that had broke away from the main slope due to the undermining from the glacier below. I spotted a possible route down to the Lemah Glacier, but I doubted if we would climb Lemah Mountain tomorrow. We traversed back across the slope, and bypassed the rock step. We screed down the gully and arrived at the tent as a marmot's whistle announced the setting of the sun. I cooked "leak Glop" for dinner and topped it off with Heat Tabs and a quart of water. I slept reasonably well, except for awaking occasionally for salt and water.

Sunday morning we slept in, quenching our chance to climb Lemah Mountain. We struck camp after eating the breakfast that Lewis cooked, and bid farewell to the sweet basin of Chikamin Lake. With nine miles to go to the trailhead, we climbed back down the falls at a little after ten o'clock. Lewis followed me down past the small tarn. Our descent route to the box canyon followed my route down the gullies. While fighting brush at the lower end of the canyon, we found a climbers trail that we gladly followed. We hiked easily along until we lost the trail in the flats near the northwest arm of Spectacle Lake.

I gave up on the idea of climbing around the south end of Spectacle Lake. Instead, we climbed left, up a large talus slide until we found the orange paint route. By the time we slid back down the alder slide to the lake, we were hot and sweaty. We refreshed ourselves by dunking our shirts in the lake and putting them back on. After leaving the lake, we met a family party wandering on the polished slabs above the short cut. We led the way down the climbers trail.

When Lewis reached the main trail, he took off at just under a run. I kept with him for a few switchbacks, but I soon fell off the pace to conserve my energy. We were really "trucking". We stopped for lunch at the north end of Pete Lake an hour later. While eating our lunch and soaking our hot feet along the shore of Pete Lake, we talked and smoked with two climber that were heading for the Chimney Rock Glacier. I was only slightly embarrassed as Lewis told of our harrowing climb of Lemah One. I was surprised to see the two climbers take the photo copied map that Lewis gave them. And even more surprised when they said that Chimney Rock was not on the map that they had. As we parted, they thanked Lewis for the map and we thanked them for the smoke.

On almost all of my excursions into the mountains, the last mile or so is always the hardest. This is possibly due to the fact that I have been high on the mountains all weekend, and as I start to come down off the trip, I get depressed.

The trail was still hot and dusty on the way out, and I stopped at nearly every stream to wet my face. We again passed the family party as they wandered off on the wrong trail after crossing a dry creek bed. Lewis reached the car first, and went over to Tired Creek and made lemonade. When we stopped on bridge at the outlet of Cooper Lake, while driving out, Chikamin Peak and Lemah Mountain looked more beautiful than when we drove in, two days before. This time even Lewis noticed the view and asked; "What mountains are those?"

I smiled, slightly shook my head and then explained; "Why that is where we just were."

03 029 Chikamin Pk Lemah Mtn Chimney Rock fr Cooper (207k)

The distinctive peaks that stand on the Cascade crests North of Snoqualmie Pass as seen from the East along the now abandon logging road above Cooper Lake. From the left to right are the knob of Chikamin Peak, the five summits of Lemah Mountain, and the dark walls of Chimney Rock. From this vantage on the Southern slope of Polallie Ridge, it shows the round wooded foreground bulk of Island Mountain. Cle Elum Ranger District.

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