Photos cannot remotely explain how happy I was
Date: July 1-2, 2022
Plan: A quick early season overnight to Gothic Basin and climb of Del Campo and Gothic Peaks.
Where: Mountain Loop Highway, Mt. Baker-Snoqualmie National Forest
Parked: Barlow Pass TH
Elevation Gain: ~6,500 ft
Distance: 14 miles roundtrip
Total Time: ~19 hours (12 hours moving)
Sun Horizon Collisions: 2 (A double inversion day)
Summary: A short trip is filled with bucket-list photography moments that fill one of the best night’s I’ve ever spent in the mountains.
The cloud tsunami approaches
A Quick Approach
There are a number of Washington scenes on my photography bucket list. Some of them are extremely rare and almost impossible photograph. These are when unpredictable conditions line up with rare events such as getting to photograph Comet NEOWISE in 2020 (something that was so rare I didn’t even consider it). Others are relatively common, but are still hard to time right, and usually require a bit of luck such as an unforgettable sunset from the summit of a peak. Having any one of these bucket list moments in a backpacking trip will help the expedition stick with you for a long time. This trip didn’t even last a full day but was filled with so much beauty it was almost incomprehensible.
In the last few years the Mountain Loop Highway has exploded in popularity. As the population has increased and the multitudes swarm over the I-90 and Highway 2 corridors, more and more people make their way into the northern river valleys of the Stilliguamish and the Sauk. However today, despite it being a holiday weekend, the traffic is light as I drive up the Mountain Loop Highway. The weather has only recently transitioned towards summer after our cool spring and snow still dominates the high country. Once you get much above 4,000’ the snow increases rapidly in depth and there are only the hardy few really want to trek for too long across snow. The weather this Fourth of July weekend is predicted to be standard early July fair. Tonight, Friday night, looks mostly clear before thunderstorms move through late Saturday issuing in a cool and cloudy July 3rd and 4th. So instead of my original plan to go out to Mount Adams, I’m up here for a night before heading to Seattle for the rest of the holiday.
The dreaded snowbridge was not too bad
Starting to get nice views out to the east and Silvertip Peak
So much water coming down right now!
The trail up to Gothic Basin follows an old road before cutting east after a mile and beginning to climb out of the South Fork Sauk Valley. It's in good shape and the hiking is easy as I pass raging snow melt creeks and begin the moderate forest climb up to the basin. As it’s still shoulder season the snowpack is in transition. I’ve brought all my winter gear (snowshoes, ice axe, gaiters, crampons, poles, warm clothes, etc) but also have refused to bring my tent. It’s supposed to be dry tonight so how bad can a one night bivy be? This extra gear weighs me down a bit as I hit 3,500’ and reach the first snowbridges. The trail is known for having sketchy early season snow sections, but this must be the right time to go because there’s only one solid avalanche path I have to cross before I hit consistent snow and can put on traction. The snow seems solid enough so I just go with crampons, leaving my snowshoes strapped to my pack as a training weight that I won’t touch for the rest of the outing.
Really hoping these clouds don’t swallow me whole
Buried under feet of snow the trail is impossible to follow exactly, but the route is generally clear and there’s always the GPS crutch. I cut across the snowy slopes with improving views out to the east and three hours after I’ve left my car, I marvel in the melting snow wonderland. I was inspired to explore Gothic Basin this time of year by a number of turquoise melting lake pictures I saw a couple years ago. That pristine blue color is one of my favorite colors in nature and so in June and early July I’m always hunting for a new location to capture it. However, I’m still a little early in the season to the basin and it's buried deep in snow. The lack of open water is mildly upsetting, but I get about setting up camp with hopes for a beautiful night.
Seems like this could line up well for the Milky Way
What will I do with the rest of my evening? The early afternoon was cloudless, but as I have climbed big puffy clouds have repeatedly reformed on the nearby summits. I have three hours until sunset which is perfect timing to hit one of the peaks, but I’d prefer to actually be able to see when I get up there. Luckily the clouds are dynamic enough that I feel I’m at least guaranteed peek-a-boo views. I could camp in the basin near Foggy Lake, but with the Milky Way rising and the slightest possibility of seeing the northern lights, I set up on a bump overlooking the Sauk Valley to the north and Sheep Gap Mountain to the east. After switching to my day pack I head towards Del Campo for sunset.
A Del Campo Evening
Del Campo is a prominent peak known for good views and a great scramble route. I can tell as I navigate the snow slopes on the west side of Foggy Lake that the scramble section is perfectly melted out. But it’s the small open tarn before I begin my climb that really catches my eye. Around the lake there are some of those turquoise melt ponds, but the most beautiful is an ovoid gem just at the base of Del Campo. It glows green like an emerald in the late afternoon light, as if there’s some force more than just the snow illuminating it from within. After gawking at the lake for a bit I make the quick 1,000’ ascent up the normally loose talus slopes (in soft snow with a light pack the ascent is trivial) to the base of the scramble where I deposit my crampons and ice axe. I expected a long, somewhat challenging series of movements to climb up the last section, but within a couple minutes I’ve reached the summit.
The nearby area is known for its mining history, but this is the only gem I need to go digging for
So many new mountains to explore!
That late afternoon light!
The summit conditions are beyond my wildest dreams. Not a gust of wind disturbs the calm evening air that is plenty warm enough to hang out in a t-shirt. The sun sends warm rays towards me that soar over an inversion scene with clouds flowing over the other Mountain Loop peaks like a cresting tsunami. Whirlpooling around the columns of rock, ebbing and flowing with each crest of the wave, at times overwhelming my pinnacle causing me to lose myself in the golden foam. Baker appears to my north in the colorful, watery air like a ship sailing on a cloudy sea and before long Rainier pops out to the south. This is the spot I want to be. It’s an area I could sit and watch the world go by for hour after hour. I’m at the summit a little before 8 p.m. and every minute I watch Midas brings his riches closer—cloud after cloud gaining that golden glow.
I’ve waited so long for conditions like this
I didn’t even recognize Baker for a moment. it looked more like a cloud
Gotta get that pensive selfie
Even Rainier came out after a while
I’ve read plenty of reports describing Gothic Basin, and even Del Campo Peak, as a constant mass of hikers, but at this moment there is no sound or sign of life other than my calm breathing. The clouds swirl about as in a dreamland and even more peaks emerge including the lord of this realm—Glacier Peak. Despite the ease of the scramble I decide it would be good to complete it before sunset and return to my camp at a respectable time so just before 9 I descend. Back on the snow the last rays of light dye the swirling clouds red and pink as they wash over Gothic Peak. A crescent moon hangs in the sky, just now beginning to gain power and visibility with the fade of day. It’s 10 p.m. before I reach my pack, but daylight still hangs on and only over dinner does darkness come down in earnest.
One of Those Bucket List Moments
It’s now 11 p.m. and quite dark. I found a rock outcrop to sit on and stay out of the wet snow, but the clouds kept at bay by the day have flooded in with the night. I can’t see a single star and I’m quite damp. I’ve arranged my Crazy Creek camp chair as a sort of pseudo sleeping pad and I’ve wrapped my ground tarp around me to stay mildly dry. So much for Milky Way shots as I fade into a restless sleep.
An hour and a half later I wake up to a sudden sharp pain. It feels like my leg has decided to remove itself from my body, but the cramp fades quickly. Then I notice the cloudless sky above me. The stars shine bright. It’s not quite a desert southwest sky, the nearby lights of Seattle guarantee that, but the Milky Way filaments cut through the light pollution and remind me of what is beyond. The galactic core does not quite line up with Sheep Gap Mountain, but I figure I might as well get my tripod anyway as I turn to the north.
Absolutely epic
I can’t believe my eyes. It’s there. Above the horizon. Not super bright, but bright enough. Probably my favorite natural phenomena in the world if I got to experience it in its entirety. The aurora is lighting the sky over the Sauk Valley. The colors are just barely visible, but green/white pillars are swirling and twirling and I know the time is now. The northern lights are extremely finicky. Still incredibly difficult to forecast precisely, they can last for as little as 5 minutes or as long as the whole night. Each time a pillar dissolves it could be the last gasp of the colors. So I’m rushing my tripod into place and encouraging it to "TIGHTEN FASTER!" and "DON’T YOU DARE START SLIPPING!"
It's set-up and I’m shooting and I’m watching a dream I’ve had for almost a decade unfold. I’ve wanted to shoot the lights in the North Cascades for too many years. The solar minimum and inexperience and weather always got in the way, but now it’s happening. And to be honest the mountain background could be better, but,
WHO CARES? I’M WATCHING THE FRICKIN NORTHERN LIGHTS FROM A MOUNTAIN!
The pillars are really what make it spectacular to the naked eye
Even at 2:30 a.m., 2 hours after the peak there was still a bit of color although day was coming
Like I expected, the show doesn’t last that long. 15 minutes later it’s already fading, but considering we only have about two hours of astronomical darkness this close to the solstice, I can’t complain. And when the aurora dies, the Milky Way is perfectly aligned so everything is falling into place and I’m happier than anyone solo camping in the snow has any right to be.
Milky Way and Sheep Gap, an strangely named but beautiful combo
The morning light and mist begin to work their way into the shot
The biggest issue with the unpredictability of the northern lights is it’s hard to go back to sleep. You never know when the most incredible show of your life is going to reemerge for a few fleeting moments. So that means, I can’t sleep. Especially since I’m also hoping to catch a glimpse of noctilucent clouds—those extremely high altitude clouds that glow like white fire for a few weeks around the solstice just before sunrise. But alas the boring low clouds have decided to return. They cover the northern horizon and although I maybe capture glimpses of the noctilucent clouds as the sky begins to lighten, I don’t capture anything with certainty. And pretty soon it’s time to be up and moving again. I’m trying to make Gothic Peak for sunrise so by 4 a.m. when I no longer need my headlamp I’m already ascending the gentle snow up to the peak.
No noctilucent clouds, but still a gorgeous early morning
The sun rises over Sloan and Glacier
A Gothic Morn
The clock ticks quickly as I ascend, but I think I’ll make it before sunrise before I take a wrong turn. The online beta I had read for Gothic Peak say to go straight up the summit block instead of traversing to the left, so I try that. Rapidly it becomes steeper and way more technical than any report I read. I downclimb and return to what I originally suspected was the route, and what do you know? there’s a clear path that takes me right to the summit. To the north there are some stunning high clouds that would catch the sunrise beautifully, but my detour has cost me a couple essential minutes and in that time the colors of faded. But, it’s hard to complain when every other view is out of this world.
Not as many clouds as the previous night, but enough to catch the insane light
Shuksan with the striking American Border Peak on the left
First light in the Basin
I am surrounding by peaks that I still have no real sense of. This is my first time in the area and there are so many jagged rocks that I’ve never seen before or from this angle. A weak inversion from the previous night remains, although it’s much stronger towards the southeast. I can see Mount Stuart way in the distance, still sleeping on a bed of clouds. One of the Red Mountains (there are like a dozen in Washington) looks so steep and improbable that I’m shocked anyone has climbed it. And as the golden light returns I am once again content to sit and drink in a million unforgettable views.
After 1.5 hours it’s probably time to head down. The threat of thunderstorms later in the day is a bit unsettling and it’s predicted to be a hot one up in the snow covered solar oven. I plow my way down through the snow above the still frozen Foggy Lake and in no time I’m back at my backpack. Other than a couple snacks I forego breakfast. I’m only a couple miles from the car anyways and then I can find some food at a later stop. Despite getting only about an hour of sleep I feel fine and I rush down the mountain. Right at the snow transition I begin to see the first hikers of the day, some of them with quite ambitious plans and some of them hoping to stay the night in questionable weather conditions.
Stewart stealing the horizon in the southeast
One happy Wyatt
Spire is a wildly cool peak from this angle
I wish them luck, but for myself I know I’ve just spent a night I’ll never forget. It’s important to embrace these moments as much as possible. Don’t live in the past, but it’s okay to let the intoxication wash over you for as long as possible. I skip down the descents. Happy. Content. Restored. Fulfilled. In awe. It really doesn’t get better than this. Oh, except following up such an incredible night with a massive cinnamon roll from Arlington on my way home. In the next few days I’ll have a nice Fourth of July, but the fireworks I watch in Seattle will not be anywhere near as impressive as the green and purple lights I watched from Gothic Basin.