Nevertheless, we ignored all that and got the hell out of Rialto Beach bright and early (read: 10 AM). Foolishly, I thought it would only take us 4-5 hours to make the drive from the coast over to North Cascades NP. I hadn't taken into account the fact that it was the Friday of Fourth of July weekend, and we were slowed up by one giant RV after another on our way across the peninsula. Our patience was certainly wearing thin after a couple hours, and I was driving like a complete idiot. After riding the ass of one slow driver for about 5 minutes at 45 MPH, I'd get my chance to pass and then gun it to 80 or so before coming up on the next guy with a full head of steam a couple minutes later. This process must've repeated itself about 30 times during the course of our drive to the Cascades.
After another novel ferry ride and a 2-hr battle with the inland traffic, we were finally in the North Cascades...with about 2 hours of daylight left. The absurdly underestimated drive had taken its toll on both of us, and by the time we stopped at the ranger station for our permit, Dan and I were both ridiculously slap happy. I remember the ranger ladies inside had no idea what to make of the two wild-eyed maniacs that'd just come in, making comments about packing in guns and fireworks and starting forest fires. Overall, though, I gotta say they seemed to enjoy our lunacy. I know I always do. It was probably a nice change of pace from the regular touristy hiking community that I arrogantly try to pretend I'm not part of.
Anyhow, with only a couple hours of light left, we told the rangers we were gonna attempt a dayhike up Easy Pass on the opposite side of the park. For this, we only received more incredulous looks. After that drive, though, we didn't give a damn anymore, and we were gonna go try that hike no matter how stupid it was. Well, it turned out that it was pretty god damn stupid. After a mile or so, Dan had slowed down to a snail's pace. His boots had done a number on his feet already, and after that uphill mile, the skin had completely come off his heels. We definitely had to turn around at this point, and I thought that this was the end of our hiking trip altogether. Depressed about this and being as childish as ever, I took out my frustrations on Dan. Although I never made any direct comments to him, I certainly made it clear that I was dissappointed with him for ruining the trip. At the time, it seemed perfectly logical for me to be upset with my hiking buddy who'd used nearly all his money to fly across the country to hike with me for a week. I don't know why I act like such a selfish little bitch sometimes. Anyhow, sorry about that, Dan.
None of that stuff really mattered in hindsight, though, because Dan's a bad ass. Rather than wearing boots on our 3-day hike into the Cascade Pass area, he opted to wear my blue flip flops. The idea was that this would take his heels out of the equation since there wouldn't be anything rubbing on them anymore. I wasn't sure if this was an insane idea or not, but I really didn't give a shit as long as it got us over Cascade Pass and into Pelton Basin. I'm pretty sure Dan felt the same way.
By the time we actually got to the trailhead parking lot, I was going absolutely nuts with anticipation. Out of everywhere I've ever been, no single place has ever impacted me more than Cascade Pass. I think I've been there six times now, and it just gets better everytime. To me, its just about the most sacred spot in the world, and I couldn't wait to share it with someone else. Here I am in the above picture right after our arrival paying homage to this site with a long overdue piss.
The view from just the parking lot of this place is staggering. In every direction, the basin is surrounded by near vertical walls of rock thousands of feet tall capped on top by the most menacing ridgelines I've ever seen. Between the jagged peaks that make up the ridges hang mammoth blue-white glaciers pouring over slopes so steep its hard to believe that it's even possible for the ice to hang on at all. Indeed, every once in awhile, a clap of thunder will resound througout the valley even though there may be no clouds in the sky. Rather than a thunderstorm, this is actually the sound of a huge chunk of ice breaking off the lip of a glacier and falling hundreds of feet before smashing onto the next little jut of rock that forms the slope. Of course in the summer months all of these glaciers are melting and feed more waterfalls than can be counted. All of this water tumbling thousands of feet down the surrounding cliffs fills the basins with a constant roar. This continuous supply of water running across the rock allows plants to grow nearly everywhere on these mountains as well, so that only the very sheerest slopes are bare rock while the rest of the mountains are painted a radiant green.
So yeah, this place is god damn paradise, and that's just the parking lot. From there, as the trail switchbacks up the side of a ridge it just gets better. A couple miles in we crossed an avalanche chute (They're tend to be a lot of those with the incredibly steep slopes.). Here's a picture of Dan next to it providing a view all the way back up Cascade River Valley, which we had to drive up to get here.
Another great thing about this hike is that it's not even that hard. Thank god, too, because Dan's feet were in no shape to attempt anything more difficult. I didn't even know if they'd make it through this, but he was handling it quite well. The looks we'd get from passing hikers were priceless, though. Here was Dan with 35 lbs strapped to his back doing the hike in my $10 flip flops, while all these jack ass REI yuppies were decked out in their $200 mountaineering boots to do a simple half-day hike.
There I go getting all self-righteous again. At least they're out there. Meanwhile, I'm typing this crap up on a damn computer... Anyhow, as I was saying, this trail was cake, and even with Dan's foot problems we were approaching Cascade Pass in no time. Here's a view of the final stretch of trail leading to the pass.
The view from the pass revealed Pelton Basin, which was just as amazing and rugged as the valley we'd just ascended up from.
Above is a better view of Pelton Basin, which would be our home for the next couple days. Our actual camp was in the finger of trees that nearly extends all the way down to the bottom of the basin.
We probably couldn't have done this hike much earlier than this, as we ran into quite a bit of snow once we crossed the pass. This made for plenty of excitement for Dan. While I'm certainly a minimalist, the $10 flip-flops Dan had on left a lot to be desired in terms of traction.
Dan's woes continued as we crossed a huge scree field during the descent to our camp. Acting as a true friend, at this point I told Dan that he was on his own, and I took off ahead of him. Actually, we'd heard that only 2 out of 3 tent sites were snow free, so we figured it would be best if I sped up to try to secure one of those. In the end Dan ended up beating them there anyway, which is pretty god damn pathetic considering the circumstances.
We'd finally arrived at our (barely) snow-free campsite.
Here's nice picture of Dan sporting his new foot attire. The duct tape is really what makes it.
After being split open by some loose twigs and covered with dirt for 5 miles, these blisters were an infection waiting to happen.