DATEs HIKED: 8/2-8/5/24

TOTAL MILEAGE: 26 MILES

TOTAL ELEVATION GAIN: 8,000’

The Chilliwacks are small cluster of peaks located in the northern-most reaches of North Cascades National Park. In fact, they are so far north the trail actually starts in Canada before crossing the border and entering the park. These peaks are known for their ruggedness and remoteness, and like any other rugged and remote places they are not easy to reach. I have had my eyes on a trip to the Chilliwacks since I first saw a photo of Silver Lake in a blog post years ago—which pivotal blog post I saw that photo in has since faded from my memory, but that image of the lake has stayed with me ever since. After doing some research and reading many trip reports that emphasized the difficulty of the bushwhacky approach and the challenging terrain, I decided to wait until I felt confident in my backcountry skills to attempt a visit.

Last fall, I was talking to my friend Sander and somehow Silver Lake came up in our conversation. He had found the lake while zooming around on Google Earth and had also added it to his “to visit” list. I immediately proposed that we plan a group trip for 2024. He agreed to it and we slated the trip for the first weekend of August. While I initially thought we might do the trip as an overnight to save on vacation days, I was quickly convinced that we would want more time in the area and we planned on a four day trip, which would give us two full days to truly immerse ourselves in the Chilliwacks (and try to recover from the approach).

About a month before the trip Sander reached out and asked if his friend Morgan could join. Morgan had seen Silver Lake on a flight from BC to Seattle over a decade ago and had been immediately inspired to someday see the lake with his own eyes. It seems there was one common thread that tied this whole trip together—a shared desire to see the elusive and beautiful Silver Lake.

Day 1: Approach to ouzel basin

10 miles/4,000’ gain

The first day of the trip had hung over my head like an unanswered question since we marked the dates on the calendar. Trip reports for the Chilliwacks consistently reference just how hellish the trail is: bushwhacking through alders, navigating over and around downed trees, constant route-finding challenges, and for a little extra spice: a slick waterfall to scramble up. But, before hikers even get to all of that they have to make the long drive to the trailhead, which lies at the very end of rutted and potholed road past Chilliwack Lake in British Columbia.

For most trips in the North Cascades National Park complex hikers are required to drive to the Wilderness Information Center in Marblemount and pick up their permits in person. Since this trailhead is so far out of the way, the park allows hikers to request a permit via email (as long as they’ve been a permit holder in the previous two years). So securing the permits was actually the easy part. Next, we had to drive over the border into Canada. We left Seattle at 5AM in order to avoid any potential backups at the border and we were successful, cruising through at 7AM in the quickest border crossing I’ve experienced. Finally, we were left with the drive to the trailhead, which also has a reputation for being brutal. We ended up parking about 2.5 miles from the true trailhead once we encountered one too many large ditches and decided the quickly diminishing returns warranted us getting out of the car and just starting the hike already.

If you see this in the woods, you’ve also taken the wrong route!

The first few road miles flew by, through we did take one wrong turn and ended up bushwhacking way too early. Note, you can stay on a road all the way to the true trailhead, we ended up hopping on the Depot Creek Trail at what we thought was the end of the road and immediately entered bushwhack territory. We had read a trip report that warned readers if they see an abandoned car in the middle of the forest, they went the wrong way. Unfortunately, we remembered this right as we were passing said abandoned car in the middle of the forest. After a few annoying minutes of unnecessary bushwhacking we were back on the road and cruised to the true trailhead.

The border obelisk and “the slash” of cleared trees extending to the horizon

Just a few minutes after plunging into the forest, we completed our second border crossing of the day—this time back into the US. It’s amazing to see “the slash” in the wild. The slash is a 20’ line that runs the length of the 49th parallel between Canada and the US. Every decade or so the tax payers of both countries pay for maintenance workers to go in and denude it of trees once again, ensuring that there is a always continuous, unmistakeable line marking the border. American taxpayers each pay about half a cent per year to contribute to this effort.

From there we entered the national park (I was surprised to find a proper trailhead sign at the start) and enjoyed a few leisurely miles of an undulating and well-maintained trail that followed the curves and drops of Depot Creek. If I didn’t know better, this portion of the trail would have lulled me into a false sense of security. The creek was beautiful and bubbly, birdsongs trilled through the forest canopy, and we were surrounded by every shade of green known to mankind. But, I did know better and soon we were faced with the reality of the trail.

The first obstacle we were faced with was the blowdowns, of which there were countless. If we hadn’t downloaded the GPX route for this trail we would have certainly wallowed in the forested section. Even with a GPX route we constantly got off track as piles of trees blocked any semblance of trail and we wandered off in the wrong direction time and time again before consulting the map and finding our way back to the trail.

The trail follows the beautiful Depot Creek

After four hours of hiking we reached the infamous waterfall. On paper, we only had a few miles left. Our marker on Gaia appeared so close to our final destination. I thought we were making great time and imagined we’d easily be getting to camp well before our eight hour estimate.

The waterfall portion wasn’t as sketchy as I had anticipated—though going up was easier than going down. After we finished scrambling up the waterfall with the help of rope hand lines we headed back into the forest and proceeded to hike the steepest trail I’ve ever hiked. I clocked one 0.3 mile segment that accumulated just over 1,000’ of gain! And as if there weren’t enough obstacles on the trail, we ran into wasp nests. I nearly sat on one, but somehow managed to only get stung once while Sander was stung three times in one go when passing the nest.

By the time we crested the ridge above Depot Falls I thought maybe the worst was behind us. All we had was about 1.5 miles left, how long could that take?!

The interminable talus + alder section above Depot Falls

Turns out it could take two hours. Past the forest, the route alternates between talus fields and slide alder thickets. We slowly plodded our way along the talus and fought our way through the alder. We constantly lost the route and constantly referred back to our maps. These turned out to be some of the slowest miles I ever hiked in my life. After a particularly heinous section of alder bushwhacking I checked my GPS, hopeful to see how much progress our marker gained on Gaia only to discover we hadn’t even covered half the distance between Depot Falls and camp. At times I wondered if we had entered a glitch in the space-time continuum and we really were just moving in place.

8.5 hours after setting out from the trailhead, Ouzel Lake finally came into view. Alex and I hobbled into one of the first campsites we came upon—a beautiful established site on a ledge overlooking Ouzel Lake—and Sander and Morgan headed down to find a site a little closer to the lake.

I’ve been roughed around by hikes my fair share of times before, but this was one of the toughest days I have had in the mountains in recent years. Alex and I ate our pizza, filtered some water, and collapsed into the tent right after sunset.

Day 2: Silver Lake

5 miles/2,300’ gain

I was surprised to wake up full of energy on the second day. In our pre-trip Zoom call, we had discussed how we would spend our two full days in the basin and we had settled on attempts to climb both Rahm and Spickard, but the moment we stumbled into camp on the first day we clearly needed to reassess. We had considered a tentative rest day, but also wanted to see how we felt when we woke up. At breakfast, Sander and Morgan said that they were up for heading over the col and down to Silver Lake, but were not up for a Rahm attempt. Given my energy level I wanted to still attempt one of the climbs. After some discussion it made sense that Alex and I would attempt Rahm so that we could all set out as a group to tackle the col between Ouzel Basin and Silver Basin together. Sander and Morgan would then head down to the lake while Alex and I would head up to Rahm.

From Ouzel Basin the route to the col is steep and rocky, basically ascending 1,500’ up a giant boulder field in a mile or so. After the previous day’s work, a giant boulder field felt like a walk in the park. I would take anything over downed trees and bushwhacking. On our hike up we got increasingly better views of the Ouzel Basin and Mt. Redoubt towering above. I had seen Redoubt from multiple viewpoints in the North Cascades before but seeing it up close was impressive. That mountain is BIG and it is beautiful.

After about 1.5 hours of hiking we crested the col and Silver Lake came into view. I wasn’t sure what I was expecting, but the sound that came out of me upon seeing the lake for the first time can only be described as “4-year-old kid on Christmas morning”. I squealed with joy. After years and years of imagining what this moment would be like, I finally got to experience it. There are so many beautiful lakes in the Pacific Northwest but Silver Lake has to be among one of the prettier ones I’ve seen. And putting in the effort required to see it just made it feel all that more rewarding.

My gaze then swept from the lake up to Rahm and its route, and immediately my stomach dropped. It looked so intimidating and daunting. The 4th class gully that we would have to take was in full view and it looked terrifying. Alex and I had also gone a quarter mile farther than we should have, but I wanted to see the lake from the col and I hoped we would be able to figure out a way to make it back to the route from there. From our vantage point, looking up at a steep, crumbling mess of rocks and slabs, that looked impossible. Far below us we saw Sander happily running on snow toward the lake. That looked fun. It didn’t take much discussion for Alex and I to forgo our Rahm summit attempt in exchange for a chill day at the lake, so we too started finding our way to Morgan and Sander.

Side note: Later that afternoon Alex talked to a man who had summited Rahm and completed the Rahm-Custer traverse that day and he informed Alex that the 4th class gully that made us shudder from afar made him shudder up close as well. He said he would only have descended the gully via rappelling and he almost didn’t even want to go up it. He finished by saying he would never ever do Rahm or Custer ever again. That was all the validation I needed that we made the right call.

The route down to the lakeshore was easy. Initially we weren’t sure what to expect since most trip reports from the area are climbing reports and everybody goes up to the peaks instead of down to the lakes. It didn’t take long until we were on the shores of one of the bluest, clearest lakes I’ve ever seen. The shore was lined with vibrant wildflowers, braided river channels, and perfectly smooth slabs to lounge on.

We proceeded to spend the entire afternoon at the lake, laying on the rocks, jumping into the frigid waters one by one, and just basking in the beauty of the area. It was truly a task to pull ourselves away from the lake, but at 3:30PM we decided it was best to start heading back to camp.

It is rare that I go on trips with a basecamp, but it was refreshing to be able to spend a day exploring, and then hike back to a fully made camp. We ate dinner early and then enjoyed another beautiful sunset. This time I had more energy to run around and take more photos.

Day 3: Spickard attempt

2.5 miles/1,500’ gain

We planned a Spickard summit attempt for the third day, a trip we expected to take about six hours, so we woke up a little earlier than the previous day. After a quick breakfast we set out at 9AM. The first portion of the climb followed the same path up to the Silver Lake col, but branched off after about 800’. Having already done the route and knowing the best way to go, we were much faster and it wasn’t long until we diverged from the previous day’s routeand ascended heather ramps into the basin beneath Spickard.

As I laid eyes on Spickard and the route for the first time, I experienced the same sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach that I had the day before. The steep snowfield up to the Spickard col had melted away, exposing a wall of steep ice in its wake. There looked to be snow fingers that would allow us to bypass the ice, but there was no guarantee that snow wasn’t a thin cover on yet more ice just beneath it. I had been working on my steep snow travel all year, but this looked out of my comfort zone. Not to mention, we had another long descent ahead of us the following day. I voiced to the group that I was not going to be continuing on but assured everyone they were more than welcome to continue if they felt comfortable. Alex stayed back with me while Morgan and Sander pushed on.

Sander and Morgan heading up the Mt Spickard route (the route goes to the low point in the center of the frame, where the snow meets the ridgeline)

As I made my way over to a nice looking pile of rocks in the distance I let myself cry. It was only the second time I’ve cried like that in the mountains (the first was on my failed Olympus attempt in 2021 where I turned back for a very similar reason). I had felt like I was making so much progress on quelling my fears and expanding my comfort zone on steep snow and this felt like a giant leap backwards. I let my frustration and anger and disappointment in myself wash over me and pour out. After all, there was no one else around besides me and Alex, and the mountains who caused these emotions. As I finally crested the pile of rocks I was aiming for, the most unexpected view unfurled in my fuzzy field of view. Below us was the entirety of the Ouzel Basin. The Moxes, the expansive Mt. Redoubt, and the milky-blue Ouzel Lake stood in front of us like the scene from a postcard. It was like a magic elixir, just like that all of my frustrations and self-flagellations vanished.

Sander and Morgan are the two little dots in the snow

I had researched this trip so much that I thought I knew the views we would get to see every turn of the way, but this was an unplanned deviation from our itinerary. It ended up being one of my favorite views of the whole trip, perhaps made even sweeter by being a complete surprise. Alex and I settled in and spent a couple hours at our scenic perch as we watched Morgan and Sander ascend the sketchy snowfield. They ended up making it to the col but had reached their turnaround time so they didn’t continue further. They also informed us that the views to the south were smoky. It turns out we were very fortunate the smoke didn’t drift into our little northern basin.

Sunset our final night was bittersweet. Our trip had sped by, but we successfully filled both days with hours worth of adventure. As I gazed at the mountains and glaciers from our tent I couldn’t help but feel full of gratitude. The trip hadn’t panned out the way that I had thought it would, but in ways it turned out even better.

We went to bed with an alarm set for 11PM. It was the Perseids and a new moon, after all! Alex took a timelapse and I watched the night sky, oohing and ahhing at the stars before finally returning to the tent and succumbing the best sleep I had gotten all trip.

Day 3: Exit

10 miles/300’ gain

I was apprehensive about our exit (if you haven’t noticed yet, I’m apprehensive often). The hike in had been much tougher than I anticipated and I worried that the hike out would also be sneakily difficult. It turns out I hadn’t needed to worry. Route finding on the way down is always easier than route-finding on the way up. Our packs were lighter and we had already completed this stretch of trail once before. The only portion of trail that was more difficult and took more time on the descent was the waterfall. Lowering yourself down slick rocks, using all of your upper body weight and hoping gravity doesn’t yank you off the rope, is much tougher than going up, but slowly we all made it down the ropes, nary a slip. Once we were back on the trail I breathed a sigh of relief, the worst was truly over—the steepness, the waterfall, the talus, the bushwhacking. All that was left was a walk through the forest, with just a few dozen downed trees to clamber over, of course.

We crossed the border again, made it back to the road, and from there were were home free. We cruised the last 2.5 miles to the car, ending the hike in 6.5 hours, a full two hours faster than our approach.

I had thought all of the obstacles were over by this point but it couldn’t be that easy, could it. It turns out we had parked right by a wasp nest and Sander and I each got stung again. We ended up throwing everything into the car as fast as we could and beelined it out of there before even changing into our clean clothes.

*****

I feel so grateful for this trip and the conditions we experienced it in. In all of my years of daydreaming of Ouzel Basin and Silver Lake I had dreamt of seeing them on a bluebird day and we got just that. We somehow escaped the smoke and got clear skies for the entire time. Though, I’m not sure if I’ll ever do this trail again. Usually even on the toughest hikes I think, give me a few years and I could do that again, but I’m not sure about this approach. And if this was the only time I’ll ever see the Chilliwacks in their fully glory in my lifetime, I’m okay with that, because this was one helluva trip!

Journey to the Chilliwacks