A Bucket List Trip in the North Cascades
DATE HIKED: 7/31-8/1/22
TOTAL MILEAGE: 12 MILES
TOTAL ELEVATION GAIN: 4,000’
RED TAPE: Backcountry permits are required to camp at Sahale Glacier Camp. Reservations can be made at recreation.gov or obtained as a walkup permit up to one day before the trip date.
Before Alex and I even moved to Washington, the Sahale Glacier Camp was at the top of our list of places we wanted to visit. Its sprawling views of the North Cascades and its unique campsites nestled in rock shelters at the base of the Sahale Glacier were enough to pique any backpacker’s interest. And piqued interest it had. The backcountry permits for the camp are notoriously difficult to get. There are permits available for six groups per night, four are available to be reserved in the advanced reservation lottery and two are saved as walkup permits. In 2018, we were able to win permits in the advanced reservation lottery, however, the dates for our permit were the last on our list of three and our trip was scheduled for the final weekend in September. The hike in was beautiful, with vibrant fall colors, but the next morning we woke up to a blanket of fresh snow outside our tent. The clouds had lowered and a dense fog smothered the surrounding peaks and we were left feeling as if we had unfinished business. We were determined to return in the height of summer to experience the location in its peak. Every year I entered the advanced lottery and every year I received the dreaded “I’m sorry” email. Walkup permits are also incredibly difficult to come by. The park allows hikers to pick up a walkup permit one day before their desired hike date, but if the hiker gets a permit for a multiday hike they can include Sahale on the third of fourth night of their trek and by the time anyone who wants an overnight permit arrives, the permits have long since been claimed.
Earlier this year I received the rejection email I have come to expect. I accepted that I may never get to backpack this trail in the summer. However, before I threw in the towel for good, I had one last ditch effort plan to secure a permit. Every single day this summer I checked the recreation.gov website. In the offhand chance that someone cancelled their advanced reservation, I was determined to be right on their heels and scoop it up. It was an effort that left me disappointed daily, as every day the permit website showed zero availability for Sahale.
Until Saturday, July 23.
I was driving back from hiking Sourdough Mountain when I had a weird inkling that I should check the permit website ASAP. I got home, logged onto the website, and there it was—a dropped permit for Sunday, July 31-Monday, August 1. It felt as valuable as Charlie’s golden ticket. I wasn’t sure if I would be able to take off work on a Monday, but just in case I reserved the permit. My boss approved my day off and it was set: Alex and I were going to backpack to Sahale Glacier Camp. And it just so happened that it was also a new moon and the forecast was clear. It seemed as if the stars had literally and figuratively aligned.
We arrived to the ranger station at 8AM on Sunday to pick up our permits. I had assumed that Sundays would be quieter at the ranger station, but I assumed wrong. We had to wait in line for an hour to pick up our permit but then, finally, we were on our way to the trailhead. The hike to Sahale usually is a 12 mile round trip hike with 4,000’ of elevation gain, but this year a washout on the road added a barrier to entry in the form of a three mile road walk with 1,500’ of gain. The stats for this trail are already hefty but this additional mileage and gain took the hike to the next level.
At just after 10AM, we started our watches and began our hike up the road. On paper, this stretch of the trail is relatively benign but there was something about it that was demoralizing. It was as if that portion of the trail wasn’t “real.” If the trail always had been nine miles with 5,500’ of gain I would likely have thought nothing of it, but since I knew the trail was originally shorter—and I was walking on a road—it felt like the hike hadn’t started and I was already getting worked. It was a weird mental space to be in.
The moment we got to the true trailhead and started up the trail, that feeling evaporated and in its place was that quiet contentment I feel so often in the beginning of hikes. I felt enveloped by the forest as I listened to the trees sigh and their leaves shiver in the wind. As we made our way up the endlesss switchbacks, we fell into a smooth pace. Biting flies were a bit of a nuisance in the forest, but as long as we kept moving they didn’t seem to bother us. This meant we took very few breaks, but it also allowed us to reach Cascade Pass after only a couple hours. The view from Cascade Pass are worth a day hike in and of itself. The view of the valleys on both sides of the pass is spectacular: thick, green forests cradled by jagged, snowcapped peaks. We took our first break there in the company of a large group of dayhikers who all seemed to be turning around at the pass.
One thing about the road closure: it seemed to deter all but the hardiest of hikers from attempting the full Sahale Arm in one go. This meant that once we re-shouldered our packs and began a second set of switchbacks, we were hiking alone. We encountered only two groups of hikers between Cascade Pass and Sahale Glacier Camp. The first group we encountered told us that there was a black bear up on the arm, but it was off the trail, eating and minding its own business so we shouldn’t worry too much about it. Still, we intermittently let out an “AY-YO” just to alert the bear of our presence. The AY-YOing must have worked, because we never saw a bear.
Once we were on the Sahale Arm the views started in earnest, which was great timing because the trail mellowed out enough that we could begin looking at our surroundings instead of at our feet. To the northwest we were graced with a beautiful view of Eldorado, its snowy, knife-edge summit unmistakable on such a bluebird day. And the views weren’t constrained to the mountains, all around us the meadows were blooming in a vibrant show of purple bluebells and pink mountain spirea. It was a kaleidoscope of colors in a wholly different palette than we experienced on our first visit in the fall, but equally as enchanting.
The final push to camp was on a rocky moraine that gained about 1,000 vertical feet on a precipitous grade. Again, the notion that we would already have been at camp if it hadn’t been for the road walk crept into my mind. I tried to push it away and focused on the ascent. The view of Doubtful Lake, sparkling like a sapphire in the basin below, acted as a welcome distraction from the arduous hike.
Eventually, the slope eased up and the “Sahale Glacier Camp” signpost came into view. Alex was already perched next to it, backpack off, taking in the view and enjoying a break. I threw my pack down and joined him.
The glacier camp area is peppered with rock shelters that previous climbers built out to protect tents from the wind. Thankfully, the wind forecast was zero to five mph for our trip so we weren’t worried about blowing away, but once we found an empty spot for our tent we still tied it down as tightly as possible and immediately began filling it with our gear.
With our tent set up, all we had left to do was take in the views. And defend our campsite from the mountain goats. This trail is famous for its views and for its resident mountain goat populations that seem to pose so perfectly against the mountainous terrain. The problem arises, though, because goats love to lick human urine for its salt content. The park knows this and asks campers to urinate far from the confines of camp, otherwise the goats will waltz right into camp to get to the goods. We followed the rules and it was surprising—and more than a little gross—to see how the goats would beeline it to the fresh pee just to lick it up. We could tell some of our fellow campers a few spots over did not seem to follow the rules because goats were regularly venturing just a few feet from their tents to scrounge around in the rocks and dirt to get to their urine.
Only once did a goat try to enter our camp, but a stern, “Hey buddy, you’re not welcome in our camp, don’t even think about it” seemed to make him think twice and he turned away, if a little begrudgingly.
We spent the afternoon just soaking in the views that surrounded us. It was easy to see why this camp is coveted. The views are breathtaking—a sea of jagged peaks sprawled all the way to the horizon to the south. On our first visit to Sahale, most of those peaks were obscured by fog and clouds, so it was incredible to see everything we had missed previously. The camp is also the perfect waypoint for other North Cascade climbs, the most obvious of which is Sahale Peak, which towers right above camp. We watched a climber ascend and descend the route while we were setting up our tent and we slightly regretted not bringing our climbing gear so we, too, could ascend the summit. But our packs already felt heavy and it was our first big backpack trip of the season, so we were content to enjoy the views from camp. Perhaps we’ll make the trip back out again in another four years to attempt to make it to the summit.
Sunset was the show I was looking forward to most at Sahale. On our initial visit we were totally skunked, but I know from seeing other photographs that Sahale is a beautiful spot for sunset. Despite the fact that there weren’t many clouds on our trip, the peaks glowed orange as the sinking sun drenched them in color. It was tough for me to pick which direction to aim my camera because everywhere I looked was begging to be photographed.
I ran around the camp, switching out my 16-35 and 70-300 lenses constantly, not being able to choose which focal length to settle on.
Finally, the show ended and we retreated to our tent. Unfortunately, we didn’t get a good night’s sleep. Both Alex and I woke up to take night photos, and one of the littler resident goats decided it would wail at random points throughout the night, very likely because its mother was weaning it and it was not happy about that life change. Each time the goat screamed I woke up flooded with adrenaline, my body ready to fight or flee (let’s be real—I’d flee) from that terrible sound. This went on sporadically until sunrise.
I was surprised to wake up to overcast skies. Clouds were expected to roll in, but the forecast assured that wouldn’t happen until the afternoon. Despite the cloudy skies, the sunrise was beautiful. It was a much softer and subtler show than the previous evening, but a wonderful way to wakeup nonetheless.
With obvious rain on the horizon, Alex and I decided to pack up camp shortly after sunrise and breakfast. Usually we like to return to the tent for a quick nap after sunrise. Since it was so early (5:36AM!), it is always nice to get another hour or two of sleep if possible, but that wasn’t in the cards for this particular morning. We wanted to make it down the crumbling moraine pile before it was made even more difficult by rain.
We were the first hikers to head out in the morning so we were once again vigilant about making our presence known to bears. Nearly every time we have run into bears on the trail it was because we were the first hikers on the trail and the bears hadn’t left the vicinity yet, choosing to travel along the well-trodden trails until the presence of humans sent them into the bushes and forests. We saw plenty of marmots out sunning themselves on the rocks so I made up a song about the marmots and sang it mightily off key as we made our way down to the Sahale Arm.
The overcast skies ended up being a welcome change as it was much cooler than it had been on the hike up, and the scenery looked different in the diffused morning light. The previous day, while beautiful, had harsh lighting as the sun shone brightly overhead. The morning had more muted glow that was perfect for photography.
By the time we reached Cascade Pass we began to run into hikers again. A few dayhikers were happily perched at the pass, enjoying the view, while others were muscling their way onward and upward toward the Sahale Arm.
We took our one, short break of the morning at the pass, chatting with a few hikers while we scarfed down Sour Patch Kids Watermelons. Finally, we made our way down and into the forest and descended the switchbacks we climbed just 24 hours prior.
Reaching the trailhead was bittersweet. The hike should have been over, but instead we still had three miles of hiking to complete. The views on the road walk weren’t bad at all, in fact, they might be some of the prettier views I’ve ever seen from a road. For better or worse it was also in spectacular shape. We joked with a few other hikers that it would be just our luck to return to cell service and see an announcement that the park would open the road soon. Any evidence of washout was long gone and it had been so smoothly graded that any vehicle could have made the drive!
One hour later we were back at the car. As we took off our packs and shoes, the biting flies descended upon us. It was our telltale sign to hit the road!
Exactly a week after we returned from our trip to Sahale, North Cascades National Park put out a notice that they were officially reopening the road all the way to the Cascade Pass/Sahale trailhead. Alex and I laughed out loud at the announcement. We knew it! But, the additional road walk kept the trail slightly less traveled and for a trail as popular as this one was admittedly very nice.
Our second trip to Sahale was entirely different from our first trip yet each were so beautiful in their own ways. It was incredible to see the trail in the height of summer, to see the meadows ablaze with blooming wildflowers, to see the peaks glowing at sunset, to see the Milky Way twinkle overhead. It’s a trail that takes on a whole new persona depending on the season. I doubt this will be our last trip to the stunning Sahale Glacier Camp. Maybe next time our visit will be much snowier!
