Granite pillars erupting out of crystal clear lakes, surrounded by gnarled and scrappy vegetation. Lots of ice, snow, goats, and mosquitoes. This challenging hike offers a lot for the seasoned mountaineers out there.
The Enchantments is a one-way trail deep in the mountains of Washington state. It's a long hike at over 30 kilometers (19 miles), and it's rated "hard." Some people hike through it in one day but we went to spend time in the "core" area with our backpacking gear. You can follow along with our trajectory here - it's color-coded by day and has the major milestones marked.
Colchuck
We had an overnight permit, but that didn't seem to help much with the parking situation. All of the overnight spots were filled even though we had left Seattle at 04:00 to get there early. We looped back around and parked at the end of the line of cars - an extra half-mile of hiking to reach the trailhead wouldn't make too much of a difference, would it?
The hike to Colchuck was straightforward, but we still got to see some of the natives along the way.
Colchuck was a straightforward hike and lots of others wanted to take advantage of the beautiful day to go for a quick swim. When we got there, people were diving in or sunning themselves, and a few had brought paddleboards and kayaks. We don't really like crowds, though, so we pressed on past them. The crowds thinned considerably on the other side of the lake, and we stopped for a quick lunch - our last "real" meal before we resorted to freeze-dried food for the rest of the trip. That sandwich tasted sooooo good.
The trail up the Aasgard Pass starts from behind Colchuck Lake and is barely marked.
One last scramble across some large boulders led us to the base of our next obstacle, and the one we had heard the most about - the dreaded Aasgard Pass. We needed to decide if we would try to summit that day or set up camp and rest for an early start up the pass the next day.
Aasgard
It didn't look that bad. Sure, it would take a few hours and we would need to scramble over loose rocks a little bit, but we were tough. Besides, it was only 14:00 - we had so much daylight left, and the thought of sticking around with the crowds at the lake was not thrilling. I tightened my pack straps and started climbing over the larger boulders at the bottom of the pass.
The locals galloped up the pass as we struggled to make progress.
I dropped my pack with a big thud. I didn't even care that I might have scratched the cooking gear inside, I needed to drop it right then. My knees ached and my breath was rapid in the thin air. We were close to 2200 meters (7200 feet) high, after all. It had been two hours since we had started at the base of the pass, we were not even close to done, and the trail had done nothing but climb and climb over loose rocks and sand. We had to occasionally scramble over some larger rocks, for which I carried the packs up one by one. The mountain goats stared at us and made their little "meep" sounds, which I'm pretty sure translates to laughter. My camera has heavy on my chest, so I pulled it out to take some shots. At least it would give my back a bit of a break from carrying it.
Someone we crossed going down told us we were halfway up. My foot slid on the thin sand again, and I pressed against the slope to keep from sliding too far down. Aasgard is renowned as the steepest part of the trail, and with good reason. It has a few false summits, which makes things worse. When I looked up, I could see the rocks stop and the sky start only a few dozen meters away. Were we really only halfway up? My throat was dry; I had not carried too much water to avoid extra weight. I knew there was a stream partway up, but how far was it?
Looking down on Colchuck from a false summit along the Aasgard Pass gives you a sense of perspective of just how big this pass really is.
Another person coming down reminded us to look back, and I'm glad they did. The steepness of the slope was more apparent from partway up. Far below us lay Colchuck Lake, a blue jewel nestled in the valley. It looked like we were higher up than the peaks around us, but Aasgard defied us still. They told us we were ten minutes from the top. I took another look towards the summit. It again seemed to fade away close to where we were, but something felt wrong. I could see the stream this time, but it wasn't supposed to be at the very top. I thanked them but whispered under my breath - I was pretty sure that was another false summit and we still had an hour to go.
It would take us close to five hours from the base of the pass to the top. We climbed up a large rock and saw that the sky suddenly, finally, took up most of the view. I couldn't believe it was over. I collapsed and closed my eyes, completely forgetting to look back this time. We still had to set up camp, after all. Going up may well be slower than coming down, but we decided right then that we were not going to come down through the pass with our packs. Our knees would never forgive us.
Isolation
I woke up early despite my best efforts. Once I set myself up to rise early, I keep doing it whether I like it or not, and having woken up at 04:00 the day before had doomed me. I unzipped a portion of the tent flap to peek out, then promptly got dressed and ran out. Pink and purple streaks graced the light blue sky just as the sun peeked over the lowest mountains, and I didn't want to miss it.
I was thrilled to see these kinds of clouds to reflect the early morning sunlight.
I filled my water bottle from the stream that flowed just a couple of meters from our tent and idly chewed my rehydrated oatmeal as I watched a goat and its kid poke around near our camp. I had heard that they had become accustomed to humans, following us around for food and salt. It wasn't a mating season, though, so they would not be dangerous. I waved my arms above my head briefly and it hustled away. That seemed to work rather well with all of the goats I had met so far. I liked this place - it was quiet because there were only a couple of other campers within a mile of us. The goat to human ratio was good.
The lakes at the peak were mostly frozen over and barren of vegetation.
Most of the lakes there were still frozen over, even in July, and the wind was fierce. I turned away to let my windbreaker do its job. Once we reached the lower Enchantments things would be a bit different, and I was eager to get there. Still, the icy lakes offered a gorgeous scene, so I moved slowly around the streams and frozen lakes. Water from the highest lakes, such as Isolation Lake, flows down to fill the lower lakes via a series of streams and waterfalls. The Enchantments were technically nothing more than a collection of pools of melted snow and ice, but they still commanded awe. Alpine lakes have always been my weak spot, but these were beyond anything I had seen so far.
Hiking near the peak means hiking through lots of snow, and at steep angles.
We stopped once again near Perfection Lake. Centuries-old larch trees grew in twisted forms along the granite shores. There was still snow in patches on land and ice in the lakes, but the temperature was much more bearable. The goats seemed to agree - there were twice as many here as up in the peaks. We decided to set up for the night.
Perfection
I woke up to muffled bleating just near the tent. It was followed by what sounded like a stampede passing by. I figured the goats had found our "bathroom" up on the hill nearby and were fighting over the rights to lick at the salts we had left behind. I poked my head out just to make sure. We were completely surrounded by about a dozen goats of different sizes and ages. Their scuffle had led a few of the losers right past us. Trying to shoo them away was fruitless, and besides, there was no need to worry - they weren't about to come into the tent with us. I just hoped they would not reach our food stash because that would be a great way to end our trip early. From my reading, such a thing was not unheard of in the Enchantments.
Perfection Lake gave us our first view of a lake surrounded by vegetation and running water.
A small waterfall flowed right near our tent and into Perfection Lake. I like waterfalls. I spent a bit too much time there. Flowers grew in the cracks of the rocks and the water was as pure as it gets. I thought about going swimming, but it wasn't quite hot enough yet. We still had a few days to go, and we would be going lower in altitude where things were likely to warm up a bit. Maybe I could find a lake without icebergs in it.
We decided to try to find the fabled Gnome Tarn for sunset that afternoon. It's a small lake that sits on a ridge just under Prusik Peak, offering a great view of the Lower Enchantments. This turned out to be a bit harder than we expected. We found ourselves at the top of Prusik Pass realizing we had gone too far. After Aasgard we had decided not to climb any more passes this trip. It was too late though - we were already on top with views of Shield and Earle lakes on the other side. I continued to scramble across the top of the ridge looking for the tarn and found it far below me. But how should we get there?
We had inadvertently discovered a whole new valley to explore... some other time.
I tried working my way down from the pass, but I quickly realized that unless I wanted to crawl through thick vegetation and heavy snow, I would actually need to go back down and start over. The trail, if I could call it that, was barely marked and certainly hadn't been followed in several days. This is why, once we finally got to the top, I was quite surprised to see a bright orange tent at the foot of the lake. Maybe they had come up from the other side of the ridge?
The perfect camping spot!
I set up the stove to cook dinner right next to the lake. The golden light from the setting sun faded on the side of Prusik Peak, eventually lighting up only the very tip. From the top of the crest behind the lake I could see all of the Lower Enchantments lakes amid the evergreens. It was hard to leave, but imagining working my way down from the ridge in the dark was enough to get me up.
I could see all of the lakes in the Lower Enchantments from the top of Gnome Tarn.
I never found the starting point for the "trail" even though I tried to follow it down from the lake. Maybe you just have to know that it is there. Having seen others do it, I decided I would spend the night there if I ever came back.
Leprechaun
Death by a thousand stings. We killed dozens, but it didn't seem to thin their ranks. They bit us on our arms, our legs, our backs, our heads. Dhvani had about a dozen on her back at any given point in time, and I knew I must have been in a similar situation given how my back felt. Mosquitoes are the one part of the alpine wilderness that I could do without.
It's hard to escape the sound of running water within the core zone.
We stayed anyway. Our campsite was perfect - on the tip of the peninsula that juts out into Leprechaun Lake, surrounded on all sides by fantastic mountains. Prusik Peak stood tall on our northern side while McClellan and Little Annapurna graced the southern skies. We had great views from every angle. Besides, things with the bugs were unlikely to get better if we went further down.
There was a large rock right near our campsite. Dhvani wondered if I could get a panoramic view from the top. Well, yes, I could if I were up there, but I wondered if I could get there in the first place. I made an initial attempt, but very quickly realized that I would need some help. There were no handholds, and the lip I needed to reach was well above my head. A spindly tree grew right next to it - maybe I could use that?
Larches aren't exactly the easiest trees to climb...
The tree shook like my old Ford Escort on a dirt road as soon as I had put my boot on it. This would be fun. I had a boot on the rock, one hand on the lip, the other hand on a very shaky branch that might snap at any moment, and my other leg flailing around wildly looking for something to push off of. I got a sudden flashback to my childhood, where I had climbed up a tree upside down (because that's more fun, you see) only to have the branch I was holding snap, dropping me flat onto my back. As you may know, my back isn't exactly my strongest body part. I closed my eyes to erase that memory.
Our tent was set up on the tip of a peninsula overlooking Leprechaun Lake.
I'm still not sure how exactly I eased my way up, but it was something like a slither. My hands shook as I heaved onto the lip. I took a deep breath and calmed my nerves, then accepted the camera from Dhvani who was cheering me on from below. I tried to make a 360-degree panorama while the sun peeked through the fast-moving clouds, but still felt a little uneasy bumbling about at the top. Getting down was easier, mostly because I could drop from halfway up without too much trouble. I felt so much better on the ground.
Temple
There is a way to get to a secluded lake, called Temple Lake, by going off the main trail a bit just after Lake Viviane. A steep waterfall guides the way there, but following it directly is a bit tough. I dropped my pack and clambered up the larger rocks off to the side of the waterfall. It felt amazing to walk around without all that weight! There was no trail to speak of, so I crawled along in the general direction I thought I should go. I made quick work of the short climb, and before I knew it I was standing in front of the lake.
I was alone except for the ever-present biting bugs. Some wetlands near the lake seemed just right for mosquito breeding, making the place not quite right for me. The Temple stood just behind me though, along with Prusik Peak, so I lingered a while to enjoy the view. If you can deal with the bugs, this would be a great place to set up camp.
Temple Lake is a quiet spot, perfect for relaxing before a tough downhill trek.
Still further down from Viviane we ran across a series of waterfalls. The climb was pretty steep, so the waterfalls came down hard and fast. That's just the way I like them. Dhvani sighed as I dove off the trail and through the brush once again to get a glimpse of the rushing water. She sat down as I took out the tripod and gave me a knowing look when I gleefully showed her the pictures I had taken. She puts up with so much just for me.
The water from the Enchantments pours down close to the trail to Snow Lakes.
We grabbed lunch on a large rock overlooking one of the waterfalls before pressing on. As I stopped again to take more pictures, I realized that my feet were dry. That was rather unlike me. I end most hikes with wet feet, either because it's raining or because I go too far trying to get out over a waterfall or lake. Given the amount of water we had run across so far this trip, I was quite impressed. Dhvani shook her head.
That said, my feet had suffered in other ways. They were bruised and sore, and every step hurt just a little bit. I tried to console them by telling them we were close. It had been a long and tough trip.
The trails in the Enchantments are all primitive and take a bit of work to get across.
Snow
We finally reached the bottom of the Enchantments and found ourselves by the Snow Lakes. This would be where we set up camp for the last time, but we wanted to get ahead as much as we could first so that the last day would go more smoothly. The hike from Snow Lakes to the trailhead was not a short one, after all, and we still needed to figure out how to get back to our car at the other end of the trail. We had expected to go back down Aasgard instead of coming through this way.
We reached a dam that - in theory - we needed to cross to continue down the trail. I didn't see any other way around it. I thought maybe I could cross over the logs and stay dry. I made it about five meters in before one log I stepped on did not take kindly to me.
You have to cross this dam to follow the trail. Take it from me - don't trust the logs.
I had finally found myself with wet feet. In fact, most of my lower body was drenched. At least I had managed to save my gear. My poor feet, on the other hand, sunk deeper into despair. I could hear them squeak from the moisture with each step. I would need to treat them to a massage that night if I hoped to regain their favor. Dhvani crossed more intelligently by taking off her boots and walking along the lip. Bah, smart people.
We set up our camp near Nada Lake, just after Snow Lakes. This was a very different environment to the core zone, featuring heavy foliage and tall trees along with much more humidity to go with the increase in temperature. Our tent stood in the bend of a small creek that emptied into the lake deep in the evergreens. We kept cool from the afternoon sun there and I examined my feet. Those poor animals could use a break. I decided to walk around barefooted that night - we had another long day of hiking ahead of us.
Nada Lake has a lot more vegetation than the other lakes I had gotten used to on this trip.
That night I woke again, this time to a crunching, plastic sound. I was still half asleep, though, and I just rolled over. The sound persisted. Was someone eating a candy bar? Did I leave my raincoat in the washing machine again? Oh bother. I opened my eyes. I was in a tent. There was a silhouette between the netting and the outer tent shell, visible only because of the pale moonlight filtering down through the trees above. Was it a mouse? I batted at the bottom of the netting and it stopped for a second. A second batting had it scurry away.
Still somewhat dazed, I wondered out loud what it might have been after. Dhvani realized we had forgotten to put away a bag of peanuts - we had left it in the netting's pocket. Indeed, the mouse had chewed through the bag holding the nuts as well as the netting right where the nuts were. Mental note - double check that everything delicious is put away before bed.
Colchuck (again)
The hike back to the trailhead was a long one, and it took us most of the morning to finish it off. The scenery here was beautiful, I'm sure, but I didn't notice as much because compared to the core Enchantments it didn't really hold a candle. My feet were still wet but at least my pack was lighter from having to carry less food. Still, the heat of the day had picked up, and I was glad to take a break when Dhvani dropped her pack along the side of the trail for a quick breather.
Mosquitoes love these sorts of spots, and as a result, we did not.
Once we reached the trailhead we still needed to figure out how to get back to the car, which was dutifully waiting for us at the other end of the trail.
The road by the trailhead had a little bit of traffic, so I tried my hand at hitchhiking. After a few tries, I was able to catch a ride in the back of a pickup truck headed the right way. They wouldn't take me all the way to the other trailhead, but they would take me at least halfway. I never found another driver to take me the rest of the way up the hill to our car. Instead, my hike grew longer by another 6 kilometers (3.5 miles).
Our car was the closest one to me as I approached the trailhead. That first day must have been a popular day. I quickly took off my soggy shoes and wiggled my toes in the car's soft floor mat. It was good to be back to civilization, at least when it came to foot health.
