Rainy and Washington Passes

I spent this past weekend camping in the best of all places: the North Cascades. While I camped on the shores of lovely Diablo Lake (a medium-sized glacial lake surrounded by high, snow-capped peaks just east of the Cascade Crest), my bike stayed locked in my car until Sunday when I had a chance to bring it to the high country for a ride.

This was the warmest and clearest weather we’ve enjoyed all year, with the temperature reaching into the 90s Fahrenheit, although during the course of this ride I got hit with several blasts of 45 degree air. It would happen whenever I’d go through the shade of a grove of trees, or by a waterfall, and it was a relief every time.

My pocket-sized camera died about a month ago on a rock climbing trip, and I haven’t replaced it yet (hence the lack of trip reports). For this ride, I took my SLR camera, which was a bit unnerving (it will hurt a lot if I crash). But it turned out well, and this was a fantastic ride.

The approach to Rainy Pass, with an almost empty road.

East Leavenworth Road and Icicle Canyon

I’ve been trying to figure out the best way to present this weekend’s adventure, and decided it would be best to split it into two posts. I’ll begin by describing the ride itself.

I spent last weekend camping in Icicle Canyon, outside Leavenworth, got up Sunday morning, and enjoyed a road ride up a narrow mountain valley until I was stopped by the snow. This was my first ride of the year in a tee-shirt without a jacket, and my first sunburn of the year. This is exciting for a person who lives in Seattle.

The ride started in the lower canyon, and I went east on E Leavenworth Road. This is a very handy bypass that avoids the main strip in town, going from Icicle Road to the far end of US 2, near the Safeway. It’s also a scenic ride, especially in the spring; it offers views into Icicle Canyon as well as of the mountains that surround Cashmere Valley, including Icicle Ridge, a dramatic rise to the west. Of course, this is most scenic with snow on the peaks.

Snowy mountains rising up above Icicle Road; this looks into the canyon. Ironically, the ride began as I left the canyon, stretching my legs on flatter ground.

The Leavenworth Loop (2013)

I did this ride last year, and loved it. Now that spring is in the air, I wanted to enjoy a favorite route, with a few changes for the better: go earlier in the season, to see more snow on the peaks, and ride the loop counter-clockwise this time.

Icicle Ridge and Cashmere Mountain standing behind Leavenworth, WA, covered in snow.

My bike, at the start of the ride, with Little Bavaria in the background and a Cashmere Valley Bank post to lean on.

Darrington to Rockport

Like Friday before it, Saturday was a fine day in the Pacific Northwest, and unlike its predecessor, it wasn’t filled by work. So I took my bike to Darrington, and rode it to Rockport. This was an out-and-back from the Mountain Loop “highway” to the North Cascades Highway.

Heavily glaciated White Horse Mountain over “downtown” Darrington, WA.

Rainy Pass

This is a ride I did last July (7/8/2012), and apparently never got around to writing about, probably because the photos wound up not being as spectacular as the ones from other rides. 😦 Yesterday was a sunny day, with a clear blue sky and glorious views of the surrounding mountain ranges, and as I’ve been sitting in front of a computer most of the day for work, my mind has wandered toward the high country. Also, I miss summertime.

Last year I spent four days camping in the North Cascades at Diablo Lake (Colonial Creek Campground) and used the time to enjoy two great road rides. One of these was a short and sweet climb over Rainy Pass.

Snowy, craggy peaks above the North Cascades Highway, heading east.

Rainy is one of the two passes along SR-20, move lovingly known as the (gorgeous) North Cascades Highway. The road mostly follows valleys, but must cross two ridges, first over Rainy Pass and then Washington Pass, before it descends into the Methow Valley.

Rainy Pass on a hot day, with July snow.

Falls Creek Road: Up and out of the Methow Valley

This is something I should have posted in the summer, and never got around to. In fact, I did this ride in early July; it’s on my mind because winter has once again found the Pacific Northwest, and I’ve been reminiscing about warmer, sunnier times while planning snow shoe trips. And I realized I’d never written about this ride from Winthrop.

Winthrop is a small town in northern Washington, and depends heavily on tourism. It has a cowboy facade, much like Leavenworth has a Bavarian character. Situated near North Cascades National Park, Winthrop attracts the outdoor crowd. Skiing and mountain biking are popular here, but I’d heard a lot of buzz about road riding in the Methow Valley, and, on a short vacation for the 4th of July, I decided to go find out for myself.

Looking west toward the North Cascades and the edge of town, at Methow Cycle & Sport. This ride departs SR 20 here for Chewuch Road.

I parked at “the red barn” next to Methow Cycle & Sport, left my car, and rode into town for lunch. The kind folks at the bike shop told me I’d be able to leave my car there without it being towed or stolen. They were right!

Leaving civilization behind and coming into the Okanogan Highlands near the Pasayten wilderness. Like the last adventure, this is a hot and dusty place, parched by the sun, fed by the occasional creek.

Hot Brown Mountains: Swauk and Blewett Passes

On Saturday I did a lollipop loop over Swauk and Blewett Passes, on the eastern end of the Cascade Range.  US 97 (over Swauk Pass) and Old Blewett Road go over the final ridge of the Wenatchee Mountains, giving me an opportunity to do some climbing.  This road connects Leavenworth to Cle Elum and Teanaway, short-cutting a much longer ride around the mountain, through Ellensburg and Wenatchee.

This was a fun ride, but it wasn’t as scenic as some of the others I’ve done lately.  (A few people have disagreed on this point, though.)  I’ve hiked and camped in the area, and I’ve driven the Blewett Pass Highway (over Swauk Pass – more on this later) more times than I can count.  It was nice to connect with the area in a new way, especially since you can cover so much more ground on a bike than on foot. I’ve never been over ‘Old’ Blewett Pass, though, and it turns out to have better views, less traffic, and some fantastic hairpin turns.

Here, the Cascades lower into the desert;  they’re snow-capped in the winter, and the spring thaw provides enough water to support a ponderosa pine forest.  But it isn’t as lush as the west side.  We have big, brown mountains, not unlike parts of California.

I made it to the top! But this was only the first mountain pass for the day. Ironically, this is Swauk Pass, but not to DOT.

The descent from Swauk Pass down toward Leavenworth. I was looking out for Old Blewett Road, knowing it was signed, but wouldn’t be very obvious from this side of the street. You can go miles without pedaling, if you choose to.

Mount Baker in Miserable Weather

I got complacent. Lately I’ve been riding on the other side, on the edge of the desert, where summer is getting into full swing. Winter is only starting to loosen its grip on Mount Baker.

When I left the house, the weather forecast said it would be partly sunny on the mountain; it was gray, but cracks were starting to appear in the sky, letting sunlight through. I had a bad feeling, but hoped for the best. Things hadn’t improved by the time I got there.

Apprehensively, I stopped at a pull-out on the Mount Baker Highway (SR-542), parked, and put the wheels on the bike, about ten miles down the road from Maple Falls. I’d wanted to do a longer ride than this, but it seemed prudent.

The climb was interesting, and got a bit eerie; the deeper I got into the mountain, the thicker the cloud cover. My immediate surroundings were normal, but anything beyond 100 yards was shrouded in fog. Unfortunately, that fog let loose a downpour. Higher on the mountain, the rain turned to falling snow.

I got thoroughly soaked;  my rear wheel kicked up water from the road and spit it at my legs, there was no shelter from the rain, and my wind breaker eventually started to soak though.  I thought about turning back, a few times, and should have.  The climb kept me warm, but the temperature at the top was well below freezing (in the high 20s F), and the descent was steep enough that I didn’t have to pedal once for 15 miles, giving me no heat.  Wearing older gloves with missing finger tips, my digits went numb (which, oddly, didn’t stop them from hurting).  I started to worry about hypothermia;  I stopped a few times to blow warm air on my fingers, exposed to the rain and not moving, which isn’t a good way to raise a person’s core temperature.  Climbing to generate a bit of heat didn’t make sense, as I’d lose it quickly and have more ground to descend.

And there was one final complication.  Carbon fiber rims don’t brake very well when they’re wet.  In fact, they barely work at all.  The hairpin turns were a little more exciting than I’d hoped for, but still fun.  At least this got me back to the car sooner, where I had a heater and a dry set of clothes.

My bike in front of the Nooksack River, with snow lingering on the ridge. Those are leg warmers hanging below my saddle, and I’ve never been so happy to have them!

This was typical of the switchback section. Unfortunately, there were no real views that day, thanks to the weather.

Strands of rain clouds reach down and deliver especially thick rainfall on the Nooksack Valley.

A hungry ptarmigan kept me company for part of the ascent, but it was skittish and kept its distance.

Snow piled up several feet high near the road, approaching Heather Meadows; this is almost as far as they plow.

Snowy hillside and cliffs form a wall beside the ski area at Heather Meadows. This was as far as I was able to ride; beyond here the road is buried under feet of snow.

Icicle Creek Road, edge of the Alpine Lakes Wilderness

Icicle Creek is a magical happy place. 😀

Entering the narrow canyon between Icicle Ridge and Cashmere Mountain.

Toward the beginning of the ride, as you come into the Icicle canyon, it looks like it could be some lost part of Colorado. Soon, though, after passing under the pyramid-shaped massifs, the gates of the Icicle canyon, you’ll realize this could only be the Cascades. The jagged ridge-line looks like the teeth of a prehistoric serrated knife, set up by some malevolent god to tear the ancient clouds apart when the world was still being formed.

Below the Enchantment Lakes, the scenery becomes distinctly Cascadian. Gone are the towering singular peaks, the ones that look like frozen pyramids; they've been replaced by spiny granite ridges.

This past weekend, I took my bike over Steven’s Pass to ride the Icicle.  I’d heard that the road was snowed out 11 miles in, so, to get a bit more exercise in, I parked on Route 2, about 7 miles from Leavenworth, and rode down through the Tumwater Canyon.

You won’t see any pictures from that area in this post, partly because I’ve already shown you what it looks like, but, more importantly, because Icicle Creek and the mountains that line its canyon are dramatic enough to fill this page.  But keep Leavenworth in mind;  if you decide to visit, it’s a nice place to explore.

A wide, still snowy couloir in the southern ridge, looking toward the Alpine Lakes Wilderness.

As you ride into the canyon, the first few miles are developed, with houses, school bus stops, and the trappings of modern society. Quickly, you cross into the national forest land. Soon, the only developments are trails leading up the mountains, and small pull-outs for hikers to park in. If you’re especially ambitious, and equipped for touring, you might think about stopping for a mid-ride hike.

Mountain after mountain, leading up into the Enchantment Lakes section of the Alpine Lakes Wilderness Area. The Enchantments in particular and the western ALW are known for their brightly colored (in the fall) larch and maple trees, their austere beauty, and for the common feeling that the ice age just ended yesterday.

A small dirt turn-off next to the road overlooks the Icicle, with peaks towering overhead. The snow is retreating quickly. Unfortunately, I wasn't the only one enjoying the scenery that day.

Ansel Adams said that he was happy if he got one good photo every month, or even ten in a year. Famously, he told people not to expect to produce miracles with every roll of film (anyone remember film?), or even every month.

I used to do a lot of landscape photography, but, sadly, haven’t shot anything good for a while.  I came away from this trip with 26 photos I was proud of.  Putting this blog post together has been a challenge, mostly because it’s nearly impossible to decide which ones to show, and which to cut.  It’s even more difficult because this isn’t strictly a photography blog;  I’m trying to give people a sense of what it’s like to ride a bike here.

Icicle Creek runs to the right, and down, in this photo; away from the creek, the trees are getting sparse. There's more snow on the peaks, and closer to the road now, because the road climbs, slowly, to higher ground.

Icicle Ridge, from deeper into the canyon. I can't explain why I like this picture, or why the scene in real life impressed me so much. To try, I would babble something about the stark contrast between the rocky barrens and the lush forest ... but the truth is you should come here and see it for yourself. And then tell me, if you figure it out.

Several kinds of wildflowers were already blooming, and this section of the road was home to more lupines than I could ever hope to count.

Icicle Creek Road was bare until around mile 12, where patches of snow creep inward from the sides of the road, and closed half a mile later. Unlike a similar shot from Teanaway, this really is the end of the road for wheeled vehicles. For now.

This seems to be my favorite image from the trip. Here is the snowy Stuart ridge line, one peak after the next, with needle-like crags, melting snow fields, and, closer, an east-side Cascade forest.

Ask a few people about the Icicle area, or The Enchantments, and “austere beauty” is a phrase you’ll hear over and over again.  I think the next photo gives a hint at what people are talking about, although, for hikers and craggers, the world becomes much drier and rockier as you climb the ridges.

The remains of what used to be two trees, with the Icicle swirling around them. I like this image because the silver branches, the rightmost ones, look like a fire, frozen in time by the icy water.

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As with other ride reports, I’ll describe the route I followed, and you can adapt it to your schedule and taste. I think the pavement goes about 15 miles, but I’m not certain. It’s currently snowed out at 12. If you want to ride longer, start the ride farther away.

• I parked in the picnic area on US 2, 7 miles up the mountain from Leavenworth.
• From the western side of town, follow Icicle Road.  If you’re heading east, as I was, this will be a right turn immediately before the first gas station.
• Follow Icicle Creek Road until its end, or until you feel like turning back.

My Garmin shows 37.7 miles for the trip, with 2,283 feet of elevation gain. About 14 of those miles, and 500+ of those feet were in the Tumwater Canyon.

Be sure to bring plenty of water, and, if it’s a hot day, a purifier would be a good thing to have.

The Iron Horse Trail: Keechelus Lake

A few years ago, I bought a rack for my car, letting me move a bike and a kayak on the roof of my car.  And, by some stroke of bad luck, I got sick with bronchitis.  😦

In my infinite wisdom, I did the ride anyway;  a friend drove, and hiked off on her own with a book, which let me bring the codeine-laden cough syrup the doctor had given me.  I took it slow, to go easy on my throat … so slow, in fact, that a jogger passed me.  This was not my proudest moment!  😮  It was a long short ride (I took about 3 hours to cover 15 miles!), but it was a happy one.

So far all but one of the rides I’ve described have been on paved roads, and suitable for 23 mm tires.  I was on a cyclocross bike for this ride, with 28 mm cross tires, which were fine for this section of the trail, but just barely enough for others.

My bike (at the time), leaning against a metal rod near the trail, with snowy peaks in the distance. Yes, I realize this is a Fredly setup.

Snoqualmie Pass is, well, a mountain pass. I feel like Captain Obvious for pointing that out, but the mountains surrounding the pass (pass being another word for low point) change the local weather systems. Clouds lose their moisture – as rain or as snow – as they climb higher into the sky to cross the Cascade Crest. West of the divide is wet country, the land of thick Douglas Fir forests; east is the dry side. There’s a sharp division, and a very slow fade. You can see it in these pictures, and in some of the other trips I’ve taken recently.

Looking east, the mountains are more rounded and less jagged, and not covered in snow.