I was up at 6. E called at 7:15 and by 7:45 we were heading east into a driving rain. I’d checked the forecast and the pass conditions so I knew it was snowing. I was psyched to be heading up to the mountains for the first snowshoe of the season.
The trail to Latham Lake starts at the Nordic Center at Stevens Pass. We picked this trail for a few reasons: We wouldn’t have to drive all the way back from Leavenworth to get home, we didn’t need a SnoPark or NW Trail pass, and we were there. Plus, the snow was looking mighty attractive and rather than drive another hour to Leavenworth, we wanted to get to it!
The Nordic Center wasn’t yet open for the season, so there were no crowds. A few sledders played in the parking lot; a couple walked their dog along the Forest Service Road. The facilities guys were outside the ski rental chalet, but the place was not open for business. It was striking to see all this quiet when just a few miles west, the alpine ski slopes at Stevens Pass were packed, the parking lot full of ski busses.
Bundled up and strapped in to snowshoes, we headed up the hill, parallel to the creek. The snow was falling, but it was a nice, dry snow and we were protected by the huge hemlock and spruce trees. There were pretty views of the creek below, big white pillows of snow piled up on the stones and logs that lay across the water. Pale green moss sparkled with snow and ice crystals, decorating the trees in strings of tiny bottle glass beads. We walked up.
I stuffed my poles back in to my pack, finding them not much use on the narrow trail. We crossed under the noisy power lines, shuffled about for a few minutes finding the trail’s continuation and then, more up. Up. Up. It wasn’t your brutal steep climb, just a continuous grade. After about an hour, the trail flattened out somewhat. In places, it seemed like we were walking in the river bed, but the snow was deep and compact enough that the boots stayed dry. This was my favorite part of the trail—it was so quiet here. The trees had opened up a little—they were bigger but let more sky and snow in, and with the altitude gain the snowflakes had gone from dust to big flakes that sat on your hand for a minute before disappearing.
We passed a marker saying we were entering the National Forest. A few yards further up the hill, we stopped for a snack. E had hot cocoa in her thermos (yum!). My granola bar had frozen in my pack—I hadn’t realized it was that cold. We were sure we’d gone the distance, but still, no lake. We decided to go up a little bit more to see if there was an obvious saddle. The trail turned brutally steep here and after a difficult climb, we opted to turn back.
While certainly I’d have liked to see the lake, E had chores to do, I had dinner plans, and there were two hours between us and Seattle. We both were feeling very satisfied and accomplished, lake or no lake. After all, we’d done exactly what we’d set out to do: go snowshoeing! The big trees of the Pacific Northwest decorated in frost and snow, the sparkling noise of the river, the moss jewelry hanging on the branches, a flawless snow, and no wind. What a perfect day.
After driving back across the pass, I stopped the car at a gas station/convenience market. Ravenous, I plowed through a Tupperware container of Thanksgiving leftovers. E made short work of a burrito. I was home with time for shower and a short nap before heading out to dinner. This morning I’m sore in places I’d forgotten I had, but I’m also really happy. Winter is coming and soon I’ll be in a snowy playground. I can’t wait for days like yesterday to be a dime a dozen.
