Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday – 03-Mar-2024, 04-Mar-2024, and 05-Mar-2024
I’ve known about Breitenbush for a long time. Maybe not as long as I’ve been in Oregon… but it’s pretty close, if I had to guess.
Now that I’ve transitioned from full-time work to full-time trip-and-move-planning, I figured that it was the perfect opportunity to disconnect from the internet, soak in the hot springs, and at least attempt to re-center myself out in a luxury version of the wilderness… and since Breitenbush has been on my radar for so long, well, now was the time.
I booked my stay, and headed out.
The drive out was absolutely perfect – with how chaotic everything had been, I hadn’t had the opportunity to take a long quiet drive in quite some time. It’s meditation for me, I’ve learned, to take long drives. Listening to music, letting the asphalt and miles pass under the wheels, and letting myself succumb to the dissociative fugue of the monotonous road… it opens up my brain to wander and think and connect dots that I wouldn’t normally be able to connect.
The drive wasn’t too long, thankfully, nor was it particularly snowy… I didn’t have to toss the chains on the car, though I did definitely slow down a bit as the Mustang and I got higher up in elevation. I stopped to appreciate a river, I took my time, and soon enough found myself checking into the welcome hutch at the resort.
For those who haven’t heard of it, Breitenbush is a hot-springs resort up in the mountains in the Jefferson Wilderness of Oregon. It’s built around a natural hotspring, which has been capped off and cooled down to human-safe temperatures with a whole resort built up around it. I wasn’t quite sure what to expect from it, though what I’d heard was mostly focused on the idea of “quiet contemplation”. Which, thanks to the turmoil of recent life changes, sounded perfect for me.
In the end, though, that quiet contemplation turned out to be a bit much for where my soul was at.
Instead of “quiet contemplation”, I frankly found it to be quite isolating… Interestingly, mirroring my overall experience in Oregon. The atmosphere was partially spiritual, but mainly solitary – I didn’t go into the retreat expecting conversation, but I also didn’t go in expecting absolute isolation. When passing people on the trails, it seemed a bit taboo to acknowledge them, and in turn I was treated as if I was invisible.
I can see the draw to that, for many people, and I don’t judge anyone for it. For me, though, it wasn’t the vibe I needed at the time. As the days went on, I found myself becoming lonely and looking for interaction but was barred from seeking it thanks to the norms of the resort.
Interestingly, I did end up finding companionable conversation from an unexpected direction – I’d booked a massage for my second day, fully expecting it to be a very quiet and disconnected experience. Instead, the masseuse seemed to be in the same boat that I was, and in a place looking for some form of human connection. We clicked surprisingly well; lightly chatting through the massage, and then unexpectedly reconnecting later in the evening while sitting and reading around a fireplace in the central lodge.
I was cautious, at first, making sure not to overstep the bounds of Breitenbush and the profession of a masseuse, but we made a point to check in about those, and were able to chat about that sense of isolation and upcoming change well into the evening. It was spectacularly unexpected, and absolutely appreciated.
Then, before bed, I strolled off for an 11pm soak in one of the springs, embracing the night and watching the snow fall into the pool. It was a lovely change of pace, and a beautiful switch in the whole experience.
But why not, when the goal is just to get out of town and sleep on the glacier? I mean… the goal here isn’t to get crazy views (even though I like to!), nor is the goal to hike a ton of distance (though I do hike some extra miles when I can)… The goal is to get out of town, carve a spot into the snow, and appreciate the cold and solitude.
The white river glacier works well for that – I know it like the back of my hand, it’s not a long hike, and I can take my time on the drive out. I mean, I’ve never set alarms for days that I go up onto the white river glacier. I wake up slow, get brunch, then… take it easy. It’s nice.
This trip was no different from the others. I mean, I didn’t even get to the trailhead ’till 5:00 or so! And Sundown was 6:30!
But that’s fine – I know the path, I have headlamps, and…
Why was there a fire going near my campsite? Was there someone else in my spot?? For the first time in three years???
No, dear readers, thankfully I hadn’t been site-sniped. It was better… so much better. I’ve never seen any one else camping near my area, in the 3+ years I’ve been up that trail. Which is kind of strange, since I only found this specific spot because, when I went up in 2021, someone else had already carved it out from the hillside…
Anyways, I met a team of folks who were making fondue, and we shared fondue. It was delicious, and I very much plan on making fondue the next time I go backpacking. Also I plan on saying fondue as many fondue times as I fon-can. Do. Due.
In trade, I promised aerial pictures of their camp – I made sure they were okay with my flying my drone ahead of time, of course, and they were quite psyched for the opportunity, so… win-win, right? Heck yeah, right.
The rest of the trip was exactly as normal – quiet, relaxing, and exceptionally enjoyable. I adore the snow, the cold, and the quiet that I can’t ever seem to find in the summer. Something about the stillness of the air, maybe? Or where the world seems to be hibernating, and not expecting anything from us? I can’t say for certain, but I can say that I appreciate it.
Thursday, Friday, and Saturday – 14-Sept-2023, 15-Sept-2023, and 16-Sept-2023
I absolutely adore the North Cascades and the Alpine Lakes Wilderness.
Truth be told, I’m not 100% sure what the official boundaries on either of them are… but at this point I’ve come to just assume that everything in the general “North of Mt. Rainier” region is the North Cascades, which I’m pretty sure is accurate. So I’m not going to quibble over details in this case, and simply enjoy the opportunity to explore the wilderness.
I took three days for Spectacle Lake, with Sunday left untouched to unpack and decompress – Leaving on a Thursday morning to help avoid the crowds, and giving me a chance to grab some nice breakfast sandwiches for the drive on my way out of Wilsonville.
The drive itself? Lovely – long, relaxing, and calm… an advantage of heading up toward Seattle in the morning on a Thursday. I drove, listened to music, let my mind wander, and soon enough I was parking at the trailhead and forging into the wilderness.
The first evening I set up camp near what I expected to be a small, unnamed lake on the trail up toward spectacle. I was a bit surprised, looking at the map, that it didn’t have any campsites nearby… but I figured that was because it was fairly close in to the main campsites… or, that people simply didn’t mark the sites down as such.
I arrived a bit before sundown, took the small game-trail off the main route to the lake, and started setting up camp.
Or… trying to set up camp.
I was successful, thankfully, but I did realize why it wasn’t listed as an official campsite – while there were quite a few good spots, the “lake” itself wasn’t really much of an open-water lake, as much as a large mud pit with a small puddle in the middle. And by “mud pit”, I mean “my poles sunk 3+ feet in when I was probing the ground”.
I was careful, making sure to probe and confirm that my campsite was firm and secure, and had myself a nice dinner before heading to the incoming stream to fill up on water for the day ahead.
The incoming stream was where I let my guard down. I hopped down to the stream from the embankment, and found out that the “streambed” that I was hopping to was, in fact, another mud pit. A mud pit that I sunk hip-deep into before I caught myself on the embankment.
Kind of reminds me of that time I slipped into a randkluft on the trail to Elk Meadows…
Thankfully, I did catch myself fairly quickly, and was able to haul myself out of the muck and mire without any major hassle. I was quick enough that the mud didn’t soak fully through my pants, and my boots didn’t get any grime inside them – I stripped the muddy gear off quick, changed into my spare pair of pants, and proceeded to filter my water from higher up on the embankment.
The next morning dawned to frozen mud pants.
I mean, that was the plan, so I’m not unhappy about it at all – by leaving the muddy pants out to freeze, it kinda separated most of the gross and grime off… I was able to roll them up and lash them to the outside of my pack once the morning sun thawed them out (which happened as I snacked on my breakfast and sipped coffee), with them being servicable if not actually clean.
I ascended, slowly but surely, past the lake, through a burn, and up the steep portion to Spectacle Lake itself. I took my time, enjoyed the views… and hustled a little bit, to make sure that I was able to get a good campsite!
The hustling paid off exceptionally well – when I arrived, I passed a group who was just heading out… who mentioned that they’d just left the prime spot on the lake! The campsite right at the end of the peninsula sticking out into the alpine lake, with views on basically every side.
Legitimately, I couldn’t have asked for a better campsite. I set up the tent, had a snack, read my book… and realized that it was still only 11:00 in the morning.
So… I stretched out, and headed upward into the mountain passes surrounding the lake.
Something about that phrase… “into the mountain passes”… it just sounds so excellent, doesn’t it? It sounds like something from Lord of the Rings, or one of a hundred other high fantasy books that I grew up reading. Back then, in middle school, I always wanted to be some grand explorer… maybe a mad scientist some days, maybe a space captain others, and at least once or twice I wished I was a Jedi…
But oftentimes, that explorer forging into “the mountain passes past the cities and above the clouds”.
I’m that explorer, now.
Kind of neat to think about, isn’t it?
Anyways, I forged onward through the passes above Spectacle Lake.
Tying back, I’ll just say this – if there’s a spot in Washington that Mountain Trolls would live, it was that pass. Turns out, part of the Pacific Crest Trail runs past Spectacle. And, that part of the Pacific Crest Trail had actually been blasted out of the rock with dynamite – something I became quite aware of as I noticed blast scars, drill holes, and other beautifully unnatural rocks.
It was neat – and almost tempting to move my camp into the interesting little campsites that’d been literally carved and blasted from the rockfaces surrounding me.
I pressed on – exploring, resting, reading, and noshing on snacks.
I turned around when it felt right, and made my way slowly and carefully back to camp; not wanting to overdo it on my knees by adding an extra rushed thousand feet to my elevation for the day. I got back just before sunset, with the perfect opportunity to watch the sky as the sun dipped below the horizon.
Then? More reading, a bit of a nap, and a long quiet opportunity to stargaze. There were a few teams around me, sure, but thankfully everyone seemed to be on the same page regarding noise (or more accurately the lack thereof). The stars wheeled, I pondered, and then I slept.
The next day broke beautiful, just like the previous day.
Breakfast was lovely, the sun shone perfectly, and the hike out was easy. I took my time, read a bit, and even took the opportunity to pack out some trash – a few hats that I found, some socks… even a partial swimsuit that I found in a pika (sorta like a small gopher) hole!
And, turns out, that “trash” would be pretty impactful to my hike out! As I descended from the lake, I passed a fair number of people – every so often I’d run into a group who seemed like the folks who’d want a new hat, so I’d ask them if they’d like one of the ones that I’d found.
Now, keep in mind that most of the trash I’d accumulated was pretty gross… but the hats themselves were actually quite nice. I’d asked around the lake to make sure they didn’t belong to anyone, and felt bad that they’d probably end up getting tossed when I got home… so hey, why not right? Trail magic!
One of the folks I ran into excitedly accepted the offer – then quickly made her way on up the trail. I didn’t think too much of it, until she caught back up to me a few miles from the trailhead! Turns out, her name was Carmen and she was just doing a quick “up and back” training run… which definitely puts my backpacking speed in context, if anyone was curious.
We chatted on the hike out, which made the remaining mile or three go exceptionally quick. We chatted about work, about adventures, all the fun things – definitely an excellent way to pass the time on the slow portion of the backpacking trip!
The remainder of the adventure was as lovely as the hike itself had been.
I drove out slowly, without a rush, stopping into Cle Elum for a quick dinner before hitting the main highway. I stayed in town for a bit of extra time, having heard some live music as I was eating a glorious hamburger, and was rewarded with a Pacific Northwest rendition of Sweet Caroline… an absolutely lovely callback to the East Coast.
