Well above treeline, the view reveals a labyrinth of glaciated valleys and ridges each more stunning than the last—a maze worth getting lost in.

August 20–23, 2024

Leading up to the trip, we watch the status of several wildfires in the Cascade mountains, keeping a close eye on the weather. We land in Seattle on a rather gloomy overcast day and drive straight to Newhalem Campground, our home for the next two nights. Having booked a walk-in campsite, we unload our bags and trek a good quarter-mile to a relatively remote campsite in the woods behind the road. Ferns and moss reach across the trail, clutching our bags as we shuffle closer to our tent site.

Eager to dive into the park, we grab a quick bite, leave camp, and drive east on Highway 20 to scope out the area. Our first stop is Diablo Lake Overlook, a viewpoint offering a nearly 360-degree panorama of the turquoise lake below. Islands of rock and trees punctuate the waters. With overcast skies and lighting condition not ideal, we head out to find a short trail to chase down. With wildfires in the east, we cannot venture much further along Highway 20 and are forced to turn around so we begin hiking Pyramid Lake Trail as far as we can in the fading evening light. Having run out of daylight, we can only imagine the alpine bowl below the impressive Pyramid Peak as we drive back to camp in the dark.

The next day, we wake up early, hopeful for a clear sunrise. Clouds still cling in the air, but we take our chances and park back atop Diablo Lake Overlook. In the blue hours we make out the warm glow of lights along Diablo Dam, one of three hydroelectric power sources for Seattle. Soon it is clear the sun will not show itself so we change plans over a quick oatmeal breakfast and head to Thunder Knob Trail. This easy three-mile hike takes us up to another vantage point of Diablo Lake. From here, we can see surrounding peaks nestled in mist and cloud.

Returning to the car around lunchtime, we make our way to the North Cascades National Park Visitor Center conveniently located near our campground in Newhalem. After talking with the rangers, we conclude many of our planned hikes (Maple Pass Loop and Sourdough Mountain Trail) must be shelved due to wildfire activity in the park, so pivoting we take the ranger’s advice and drive north to neighboring Mount Baker Wilderness for a chance to spot Mount Shuksan, a prominent peak just within the national park boundaries. Feeling risky as clouds continue to build in along the entire three hour drive to Mount Baker, we commit to the plan and hope for the best.

Arriving at Picture Lake we casually explore the nearby trails wishing upon a wish to catch a glimpse of Shuksan. Because we are technically outside the park, we bide our time with some drone shots of the cloudy alpine tundra. But as the evening wears on, it appears the clouds are only getting thicker and more dense. A bit defeated, we get ready to depart back to Newhalem, but not without a quick tailgate dinner. And boy, was this our best decision. As is usual among the Pacific Northwest, we eat our meal at Picture Lake and in real time watch all the clouds completely dissipate in a matter of thirty minutes.

Hope renewed, we scramble to break out the drone again and catch stunning footage of Mount Shuksan revealing herself among the vaporizing clouds. We race back up to Artist Point to catch the show. Suddenly a whole alpine world opens up before our eyes. Soaking up the rare moment of visibility, we eke out every last bit of light in the high country. Staying well past dark surely makes for a long night drive back to Newhalem, but we are confident it is worth it.

Energized by the events from last night, we wake up excited for what a new day could bring. As usual, the morning sky is cloudy, but we are optimistic weather patterns clear up as the day draws on. On this, our third day in the park, we pack up camp at Newhalem and reallocate all our gear into backpacks for our one-night backcountry adventure to Thornton Lakes. The rest of the day is defined by a greuling, but beautiful, 5.5-mile trek up the valley to Thornton Lake Campground. Pikas chirp our arrival as marmots dash across the rocks. First, we pitch camp down at the lake, then we backtrack up to the saddle and take to Trappers Peak. The unassuming trail quickly turns into a winding scramble up rocky ledges to the summit. But the precarious trail is no match for our lust for the views that surrounds us.

Like yesterday, as we climb clouds begin to dissipate in the evening allowing the sun a brief moment to shower the peaks in golden hour light. Well above treeline, the view reveals a labyrinth of glaciated valleys and ridges each more stunning than the last—a maze worth getting lost in. Each nook and cranny seems to hold a secret view of the park—a secluded lake here, a misty pinnacle there, a glaciated pinnacle here, a wildflower meadow there. As night falls, we hike down to the lake elated by the idyllic scenes all around us. Not wishing to ever leave this mountaintop experience, I wistfully cast glances back at the peaks sinking into darkness trying hard to burn their image into my mind’s eye.

And just as quickly as the clouds retreat, they also appear. In the time it takes to descend to Thornton Lake, clouds have already once again socked in the mountain ranges. We hit our sleeping bags and like clockwork begin to hear the soft incessant patter of rain on the tent. Falling asleep to the sound of a storm outside, I wonder how we became so lucky to nail the perfect window of weather for an unforgettable hike? Only by the grace of God.

The next day we pack up early in a foggy campsite and head up and out. Intermittent sun showers drench us as we return six miles to the trailhead. From here we drive back to Seattle in a gloomy rainy mess of highways and byways. Sitting in traffic, I retrace our trip recalling the sights of mist and alpenglow from the night before. Through fire and rain, we fought hard to experience the hidden character of North Cascades National Park and I’m glad to say we won that battle.