This Song Has No Title

The People:
My dad has always wanted to take me to the Enchantment Lakes. He was a summer camp counselor at Camp Field (near Leavenworth, now it’s an arts retreat center called Sleeping Lady). Before last summer, the last time he was up there was in 1974 – the summer before I was born. So, 31 years later, he invited Luke and me to join him on his second return trip.

But it wasn’t just the three of us. It was two groups of fellow counselors and campers. We were in the group designated “Trek I,” and there were 8 of us in all:

Pete, a schoolteacher in Kennewick
Janie, Pete’s sister, lives in Maine
Monte, old-school hippie, used to be a Forest Ranger
Dave, lives in Hoonah, AK, and works with kids.
Kathy, lives in Kennewick.

Along with Luke, Dad, and me, those were the 8 people in Trek I, and we went in via the Colchuck Trail, up Aasgard Pass, down into the lower basin, and out via Snow Lake.

Trek II was another group of 8 people from the Camp Field of old, entering via Snow Lake, and were supposed to meet us at Leprechaun Lake, and then follow us back out to Snow Lake for the last night.

The Enchantments:
Bill and Peg Stark discovered the Enchantments for themselves in 1959. They made a trek through there every October to see the larches in their golden splendor. They named the upper lakes and features after Norse mythology (Valkyrie Lakes: Lake Brynhild, Lake Freya…), and the features in the lower basin after various aspects of the Fae/British mythology (Leprechaun Lake, Rune Lake, Dwarf Pond, Grail Tarn).

The Starks shared their stories and their photos with everyone, including the kids at Camp Field, who were inspired by them. To this day, even though the Forest Service has named some of the lakes differently (Brynhild = Isolation Lake, Talisman = Inspiration Lake, Rune = Perfection Lake), and taken away the magic, all of the campers still refer to everything by the Stark-given name. And of course, so do I.

I found a crude, but charming map of Stark’s Enchantments, and I put numbers for our campsites, and X’s on the points to which we climbed along the way.

You can follow the red dotted line as an approximate route that we took. We followed the trail to leave as little impact as possible, but there are side trails up Little Annapurna, Prusik Pass, and other viewpoints along the way (including to the vault toilets, which had some of the best views of the entire trip).

Preparation:
The night before we left saw eight of us packing and repacking backpacks at my parents’ house in Wenatchee, trying to cull the things we didn’t need, and make them as light as possible (not to mention, comparing gear!) We ended up with a stove and water filter per every two people, which was actually probably more than we needed, but it was convenient.

We ran the gamut between MSR Whisperlite, and a DIY Coke-can/alcohol ultra-light stove. Everyone had a great variety of freeze-dried backpacker meals, and then their share of powdered beverages, tea/coffee bags, and trail mix/dried fruit/jerky. Dave brought some absolutely incredible smoked salmon from the Lummi Reservation, and I jumped at every chance to get a piece of it for myself.

The old campers told wonderful, embarrassing stories about each other, and we shared our wedding album, which they all appreciated for its unique style and personalization. They were starting to get to know us…

I don’t think anyone slept too well – too much anticipation.

We were up way too early, and met up with more family friends, Pat and Heather, in Leavenworth, and they accompanied us to Colchuck. This meant a lot to everyone because Pat’s knees have no cartilage left in them, and he hasn’t been able to hike for a long time. He probably shouldn’t have gone as far as he did, but it was a chance to be with the group one more time, even if he couldn’t go the distance.

Colchuck is a healthy five-mile hike.
Elevation Gain in: 2130 ft
Trailhead Elevation: 3440 ft
Lake Elevation: 5570 ft

We took it at an easy pace, but the switchbacks made me stop to catch my breath a few times. I didn’t think too much of it – it was too beautiful to complain. We stopped at a bare escarpment overlooking a canyon for lunch, and the gray jays came down to snag some of our crumbs, landing on our outstretched hands.

We arrived at the vivid teal lake, set up camp, and fixed our dinners. Luke and Dad ran off to cast a few lines into the water, but didn’t have much luck.

There was a perfect perch above the lake, right near the campsite, so we ate our dinner staring up at Aasgard Pass and Dragontail wrapping around the edge of the valley, and we wondered how in the hell we were going to make it up that thing alive. It’s just …so steep. So high. It looked so impossible…

What Ira Spring has to say about Aasgard Pass:

Myth has it that the Colchuck Lake approach to the Upper Enchantments [...] is an easy shortcut and has solitude to boot. Don’t believe it. Four things are terribly wrong with the entry via Aasgard

Aasgard Pass

Pass: It’s not easy; actually it’s a climber’s route, usually requiring an ice ax, sometimes rope and crampons, and in early summer the ability to recognize avalanche instability. It’s dangerous, not only from falling off cliffs or slippery boulders or snowfields or from being fallen upon by snow or rock, but also from summer storms that at these elevations can be distinctly hypothermic and from summer snowfalls the already difficult descent of boulder fields a very long nightmare…Why, then, is the route in this book? As a warning against myths. To save the innocent from being suckered in by “the easy way to the Enchantments.” Also to quash the faddy notion that this is a classy and sassy way, the route of the big kids. For anyone it’s a tasteless route. For hikers lacking climbing equipment and training, it’s a route silly to the point of suicidal.

I didn’t really find this to be true in the least. In the Golden Week, the early autumn when the larches turn gold and start to lose their needles, the route is free of snow and ice. The hard part about it is the incline – 2000 feet of elevation in three quarters of a mile. There is some shale and a few boulders that you have to haul yourself over, but the only recommendation against it comes from my aching quadriceps.

We were up early in the morning on our perch over Colchuck, though we didn’t sleep much. We would occasionally be woken by a rock fall down the side of the canyon across the lake. One of them went on for several minutes before it fell silent. We couldn’t help but wonder if they were coming down Aasgard, and whether or not we would have to worry about getting crushed by falling rocks on our climb.

It took us an hour to get around Colchuck Lake, and we stopped to strip down to shorts and sleeveless shirts and put on some sunscreen. Though the sun hadn’t come over the tall ridge above us, our movement got our blood pumping.

Luke and I brought Clif shots – little packets full of flavored carbohydrate gel. I am so glad we had them, because we used every last little calorie to get up this hill – and then some. Every five minutes or so we would look back at the lake, and the view had changed drastically. The sun was creeping further and further toward us, and the lake was getting smaller and smaller. There was a beautiful ridge of larches 2/3 the way up the mountain, and it was getting closer, and sunlight gilding the top of the trees as it started to pour through the pass.

We stuck close together as we navigated the trail, taking care not to dislodge any loose rocks as we went. Every once in a while we had to crawl up between wedges of rock, and my meager education in bouldering came in very handy. I felt fairly confident finding footholds and handholds, even with a 30-pound pack strapped to me, threatening to pull me backwards.

When we reached the larch ridge we stopped on a rock outcropping to fuel up again. I was HUNGRY, and I had used every ounce of energy left in me. I wanted to be in the shade at first, but the party insisted we sun ourselves on the rock, and after a few minutes of rest, I was glad to be there. A breeze came down off the glacier and threatened to cool us off just a bit too much.

After taking notice of the receding Colchuck Glacier, we downed our second Clif Shot, drank some Gatorade, and moved on up the hill – without hesitation and without mishap. Three hours and 2180 feet of elevation later, we shot up over the saddle and beheld Lake Brynhild.

Beginning elevation, Colchuck Lake: 5570 ft
Top of Aasgard Pass: 7750 ft

To be continued…