Trip report by: Jeffrey Olson
On Friday, Dave, Rachel and I headed out from Seattle to hike up toward Noble Knob in the Norse Peak Wilderness. We got to the Greenwater Trailhead at about 10 AM. The day was warm, so warm it felt more like August than March! We were going up to Lost Lake the first night, at 3985', well into the world of snow.
The first Greenwater Lake was so beautiful I was ready to spend three days just lying around and soaking up the sun. The forest along the trail is old growth and heart lifting. There were a number of log bridges with rails (except for the first) and a steady gentle climb up to a Y. To go straight was to head to Echo Lake. To go right was to head toward Lost Lake. We turned right and within a quarter mile encountered the first snow on the trail at about 3400'. The transition zone between forest and snow was rough. We post holed for a while before putting on snow shoes and much easier walking.
We'd met a fellow coming down, whose footsteps we followed until they did a U-turn, who said "It's a tough hike." The transition zone was. Once the snow cover was total it wasn't so bad. The trail was visible as a slight depression so we followed it as we paralleled the creek which left tiny Quinn Lake above.
We were all carrying 55 pounds or more - overprepared and feeling safe. The sun was out and I was wearing boots, gaiters, nylon soccer shorts and a cotton tee shirt, and sweating. We arrived at the lake about three and discovered it had no outlet. A high water mark on the tree I set my tent up next to had the lake rise during the spring at least 30'.
We had a late dinner after a short nap and went to bed. During the night clouds moved in and it showered a couple times. We woke up Saturday to clouds and light rain. We decided rather than breaking camp and giving up the dry spaces within our tents, that we would use Lost Lake as a base camp and do day hikes. We left for little George Lake off the west side of Noble Knob. We started straight up the ridge, paralleling the trail, which wasn't visible.
I've only started snowshoeing this year, after 30 years of backpacking, and I've never worked so hard in my life. The snow was wet, very wet. Rain fell the whole 1400' climb. I tried a stair stepper once and this was similar. Each step was a whole body effort to grab purchase in what felt at times a bottomless, wet pit of corn snow. The claws on the snowshoes did their best to grab, but I found myself more often than not simply sliding backwards into a hole that wasn't there only seconds before. My soul got weary. I was down to shorts and long-sleeve capiline lightweight shirt, and sweating more than I had the day before. The rain was falling, and if I stood still for more than a minute, I could feel the 38 degree cold start to make headway in reducing my core temperature. And there were only more trees ahead!
I'd about made up my mind I would stop, put on dry clothes, and wait for Dave and Rachel to make it to the top of the ridge and start back down. Dave called out he had reached the top, and I got resolve, and struggled the final 200' to the top of a small rock promontory only half covered with snow.
Miraculously the sun broke out when I arrived at the top. I changed into dry clothes and took pictures, and laughed at our initial thinking we would do a 21 mile loop up around Noble Knob and Mutton Mountain, down to Echo Lake and to the aforementioned Y. The mile and a half climb to the top of the ridge about did all of us in.
We floated down, the opposite of the hard work to get to the top. Each step was cushioned by the snow. The steepest slope was a couple gliding steps of pure ecstacy. The crustier snow under the trees varied the walk down. We floated and danced, laughed and sang, and generally behaved with playful decorum.
The rain had stopped when we reached the top, and held off for our trip down the ridge back to camp. But once we got to camp, it began, and it didn't stop. It rained for 18 hours straight, with a two hour break, and then another 12 hours of deluge. Saturday dinner was cooked under the giant cedar (?) tree beside my tent that for almost three days held the rain at bey, giving us an outside area to congregate, tell bad jokes and eat.
Sunday I spent in the tent reading a novel written in 1988 about the cold war. It rained and rained and rained and rained. Dave and Rachel walked around the lake in the two hour break, and barely made it to their tent before the deluge began again.
Monday I woke up at seven to snow falling, finally. We'd wanted to experience snow camping, and possible a snow storm to see how we would cope. We got survival conditions with cold temperatures and rain. The wet was our enemy. The tents held, and didn't leak. But by the third morning, my tent was getting damp. When I packed there was a pool of water under the full length ridgerest. I'd recently purchased a supposed -5 degree bag, and had no complaints, staying warm and toasty whenever in the tent. If we had broken camp after the first night, the inside of both tents would have been wet, and we would have been closer to the safety edge. As it was, we played it conservative and were dry. But, packing up in the wet falling snow made everything wet. If I had to sleep in that tent tonight, I think I'd be much more concerned about my safety. Most of my clothes were damp, if not outright wet from sweating while walking. Nothing dried. It was fitting the snow was falling as we got ready to leave.
The walk out took three hours - seven miles according to the guidebook. I have the MSR snowshows that are polypropylene plastic rather than metal and plastic. They have 10" add-on "tails" that I had to use in the soft snow. The snow was saturated with water and my 230 pounds and 55 pound pack make walking difficult. Each step threatened to have no bottom. We made sure to stay on the crustier snow under the trees rather than trying to float down the open slopes. I also was given Red Feather snowshoe poles that collapse like a camera tripod, that have baskets that you twist on. I lost the baskets off those in the three and four foot deep snow on the ridge climb on Saturday. I simply twisted them off as I sought for firm balance with them. Red Feather, or whoever makes them, really ought to look at that design. As a consequence, I had no poles. Dave was kind enough to loan me one of his.
The trip to Lost Lake is probably eight hours round trip, with an hour lunch at the lake. That includes three miles of snowshoeing on an obvious hiking trail. Once beyond the lake the trail is hard, and for us, impossible to find. The lake had one strip of about 100 feet along the shore that was unfrozen. When we left there was a six foot ring of water around the whole lake. It's melting fast up there. Quinn Lake had no ice on it at all. The drive from Phinney Ridge in Seattle to the trailhead was just about two hours. We hit no rush hour traffic.
When we arrived back in Seattle the sun was shining and work awaiting.
Getting there: Greenwater Trailhead (off Hwy 410, at the end of Greewater Road).
Note: This is backcountry wilderness travel. Any trail can become very dangerous in winter conditions. You are responsible for informing yourself of the hazards and taking the necessary precautions. Please read Terms of Use.