IBEXtrax.com - Cascade Mountains of Washington State

Alpine Lakes Wilderness

Rampart Lakes - Alta Mountain

7 September 1974

Chris was working at the Bellevue restaurant named Johna & The Whale. So, I got his roommate to go with me. Steve S had been hiking before, but he had mostly memories of being too cold.

 

A nice thing about being unemployed is leaving on Friday; so we did. While driving up the Kachess Lake Road, we had to dodge a few dump trucks, but there were only a few cars. When we arrived at the trailhead, there were a half a dozen cars, and a few VW buses with colorful paint jobs. The sky was clear and the sun was hot.

 

I chose an easy pace as we followed the trail through the woods. There were a few muddy places on the trail. We took a short rest where Box Canyon Creek flows over polished slabs and has formed sculptured pools. After the break, I trucked off and then left Steve behind. A couple who passed me coming down, told of the steep trail ahead. Steve and I rested just below the steep part of the trail, and swatted mosquitoes as we sat beside the creek. After a smoke, we headed up.

 

There were a few interesting wind falls to make the climb more strenuous. One tree had fallen across a corner. Believing it to be a sin to cut switchbacks, I crossed the same tree twice. A cool drink at the waterfall was refreshing. The trail was still steep and it was hot. So, I soon became a sweat drenched zombie. The trance was broken when I reached a flat that offered a rewarding view. After a few more steps, I was on the bank of Rachel Lake. The slanting sun glistened off the wind rippled lake. While standing in the wind, I almost over cooled down. I had to change from my sweat soaked T-shirt. When Steve arrived, I cranked up the Sevea stove which soon produced soup.

 

Rejuvenated by the hot meal, we started around the lake to find the extra lake described in 100 Hikes. We turned back when the way was blocked with an occupied campsite. Steve was tiring, so I persuaded him with, "Its only one more mile." We kept together while laboring up the short switchbacks at the north and of Rachel Lake. At one point I looked down to see an eagles nest in a tree top. Finally the trail leveled off. I missed the turn in the saddle due to the thickening snow patches. After a quick back track, we came upon a few muddy tarns. Jokingly I declared that we had reached Rampart Lakes, and we named the two picturesque mud holes. I was amazed with the drainage system. Rampart Lakes surprisingly, did not drain into Rachel Lake. Instead, the water Breached the Ramparts through a slot of broken red rock.

 

We reached the lakes as the sun blinked behind the ridge. We wandered around the lakes and searched for a camp spot. The tent was pitched on an airy point that was on the secluded side of a border lake. Seeing as there was light still left in the day, I said, "Let's go up there." Off we went, scrambling over wet mossy slabs; around a corner; up the slanting ramps; to the top. Due to Steve alleged acrophobia ailments, I said, "Don't freak out." Steve was first to reach the top.

 

When I joined Steve at the edge and looked over the top, it was unreal. The clouds were rushing up past us, and the setting sun turned the clouds orange. It gave me a sense of motion, and I felt like hanging on tight. We sat on the top of the Ramparts until the sun finished setting. We went back down via a short fast glissade. After dinner we hit the sack. Steve said that he liked the bag he had barrowed from Tony. I slept well, even though the tent flapped occasionally.

 

In the morning, with the wind gone and the sun warm, the mosquitoes were thriving. We ate instant oatmeal for breakfast, and then retraced our steps to the ridge top. We traverse the ridge going south, and passed a party with ropes and axes. At one dangerously steep section, the rock was very loose. A big "Loosey" created a minor earth slide. When we reached the Lake Lillian overlook, we stopped and rested. The view from the overlook was just as good as on my previous visit (I had climbed up from Lake Lillian with Paul in 1972.) We picked out the people and the fisherpersons along the shore.

 

We made a steep glissade down to the north. I used a branch on the descent. I was surprised to see that Steve didn't freak out on the glissade; I Later found him to be a practiced skier. We regained the upland between the Rocky Run and Gold Creek drainages. I enjoyed the view of Rachel Lake. After a short rest, we decided to return to the point camp, so we could move the camp to Lila Lake. We went down over a heather covered hummock to a gully that held a curvy snow finger. Invigorated with the confidence of the previous slide, we rushed off together. The snow was In good condition, and I carved turns as we descended. When the finger became narrow, I was excited by the tinge of danger. Steve and I skillfully negotiated the slope. On the way back to camp, feeling the bliss of egoism, we walked through a few occupied camps uttering the traditional greeting and looking for small talk and an excuse to brag.

 

After we packed, we followed the path northeast to the basin east of Alta Mountain. We pronounced the move a success as we gazed upon the picture postcard setting that we had all to ourselves. The tent went up facing east toward Hibox Mountain. We ate a light lunch, and then later watched two people made camp across the lake. We headed up Alta Mountain. After scrambling up some grassy ledges, we reached the ridge trail. The walk along the South ridge to the summit seemed long. On the top there was a soaring eagle, a hazy view, and loads of mosquitoes. While walking back down the ridge trail, we met the neighbors who had camped across the lake. The young man said, "We tried to pitch our tent out of sight." We thanked them. When we arrived back at camp, I cooked dinner. While we ate dinner, we planned to climb Hibox Mountain in the morning.

 

The morning rain altered our plans. After a late breakfast, we packed up and then traversed back to the saddle above Rachel Lake. On the steep decent I slipped on the wet heather, and punctured the palm of my hand. By the time we reach the canyon floor the weather had cleared.

 

Created and maintained by THE IBEX last revised: