Three Nights in The Enchantments

Just under 2/3 of the way up Aasgard Pass, I pulled my bite valve from my pack to have another few gulps of water, the stress of the climb in full sun and the high elevation finally catching up to me. After the first sip, the air bubbles started to mix in.

“Oh nooooooo,” I turned to Nick, one of our trekking foursome. “I’m about to run out of water.”

His reply? He was also running low.

Aasgard Pass might be the last place you want to run out of water in the Cascades. Gaining nearly 2,000 feet of elevation in ¾ mile, it far exceeds my benchmark for a “strenuous” hike of 1,000 feet/mile. It’s the “shortcut” to The Enchantments, a gorgeous high plateau that would be our home for the next three nights. You’d break a sweat on the coldest day climbing Aasgard. What makes it worse is that there is a high flow stream almost right next to you. Getting to it (and back) safely? That wasn’t an option where we were.

I looked at Nick, a man who has taken wilderness first responder training. We agreed we would have to take it easy until we could get to a place where we could refill our  water. Thirty or 40 vertical feet behind us were Brian (also well schooled in wilderness rescue) and his wife Julia (someone who knew more about the outdoors at 20 than I do at 40). With our pace slowing, they soon caught up to us. I relayed the situation to Brian who calmly and reassuringly offered to share his water. Within half an hour, the four of us were sitting alongside the stream even higher up, still on the trail, having snacks and pumping full new water supplies from the stream.

Any time you put a group of people together who have never met, there’s a moment when, hopefully, everything comes together. The group ceases to be four individuals who happen to be in the same place for some reason and, instead, for whatever period of time, become a real unit. It happens in offices, at parties, in times of shared challenge and in times of adventure. We were having an adventure. And sitting high on Aasgard Pass, refilling water and smiling about it all was when I think our group had that moment. We were sharing this experience and it would prove to be unforgettable.

The Lottery

Why were up there to start with? The answer goes back to February, or maybe even earlier. The Enchantments are the stuff of legend in Washington State outdoors circles. Strikingly beautiful by all reports, it’s a place that inevitably comes up when you start talking favorite hikes with people, often over beers after a great hike. One person will mention Gothic Basin. Another might pick the Chain Lakes. On it goes until someone says, “Have you done The Enchantments?” Because – let’s be clear – once you’ve done The Enchantments, it is your favorite hike in Washington. I’ve yet to hear a single person talk down The Enchantments.

That’s probably because anywhere you look, from trail descriptions to photos, The Enchantments look like a slice of heaven. If you can get there.

Getting there is no picnic for even the most athletic hikers. Aasgard Pass, via the Stuart Lake Trailhead, is the way most usually go, even though the pitch is ridiculously steep. The alternative is to enter from the Snow Lakes trailhead. Doing so adds 2,500 feet of uphill hiking, for a total of nearly 7,000 total feet of elevation gain. A person climbing a 14er in Colorado who starts at 9,000 feet has plenty of challenges, but less climbing than that route.

Adding to the allure, though, is the lottery the U.S. Forest Service runs every year. The Forest Service, woefully underfunded, still does an amazing job with many things, not the least of which because of a network of volunteers that fills in some of the gaps the full time staff can’t fill. One thing the Forest Service has done well regarding the Enchantments is protecting the area.

As Seattle has grown over the past decades, trailheads become more and more full. It’s not unusual to find a popular trailhead parking lot full at 7 a.m. on summer weekends. The Enchantments are the kind of place that make for the ultimate challenge for day hikers (more on this later), but camping would be the best way to experience the place. To avoid overcrowding in the Enchantments and the inevitable ecosystem damage that would come with it, the Forest Service runs a lottery for camping permits every year. There are five zones in The Enchantments, each with their virtues, but the one everyone wants is the “Core” zone, the spot that made the area famous.

In 2018, more than 17,500 people applied for a Core permit, each with groups of various sizes ranging from 1-8 people. A few more than 700 were successful, a 4% conversion rate. You have four times better chances of rolling a seven in your first roll at a craps table.

So, when my wife encouraged me to put in for this lottery, I figured why not? She knew that while the hike wouldn’t be her cup of tea, we had plenty of friends who would probably be up for it. And in February, I did just that, submitting four sets of preferred dates for a group of four. The dates I picked were late July and early August, notoriously good weather months and just after that Core itself should be melted out (yes, snow hangs out in The Enchantments well into July most years). In other words, I was requesting a permit for the most popular zone in the area for, arguably, the most preferred dates.

In late March, the night before the results would be announced, I was texting with a friend that I was getting ready to wake up disappointed.

When my alarm went off, I went to my Gmail. As expected, new mail from Recreation.gov. What wasn’t expected: “Congratulations! We wanted to let you know the lottery drawing recently took place and you’ve been awarded a permit reservation at Enchantment Permit Area on Thursday August 1 2019.”

It was as jaw-dropping getting that email as it was to see the scenery in The Enchantments. I was going.

The Group

But with who? I have to be honest, there’s a temptation to go wild with a Core Enchantments permit. It’s an exaggeration to say I could probably have put together a pool of people and had a reality show-style competition to join the group… but it’s honestly not that much of an exaggeration. The day of the lottery results was filled with messages from coworkers and friends: “Did you get one?” Most had sighing responses; a very few, though, had hit the jackpot. There is no shortage of people who want to go.

I did think, however, there were a shortage of people who 1) could physically do it, 2) I would be fine sharing four full days in the woods with (and likely sharing a tent with) and 3) would be willing to put up with me for four days in the woods (and possibly share a tent with.)

The friend I had been texting with was one option. I knew she could do it, even if she felt daunted by the climb. And a couple who have done some serious backpacking both together and with me were another obvious choice.

One person in the couple had sustained an injury on Section J of the Pacific Crest Trail the year prior and she was still recovering. She couldn’t go, but her partner, Nick was ready for the trip. With an ask out to one other person, and the difficulty of finding three individual people, I told him to hang in while I got an answer from the first friend. In the meantime, I asked another couple, Julia (who I went to college with for two years) and her husband, Brian, if they wanted in.

Julia & Brian are some of the most experienced outdoors people I know. They spend the summer in their camper van and her Instagram has to rate highly on the “living vicariously through these pictures” scale. Brian, who has climbed Argentina’s Aconcagua, the tallest mountain outside of Asia, has also literally been one of the guys on the helicopter to rescue hikers in distress. As it turned out, their summer schedule would put them near central Washington around my permit dates. They were in.

When a work conflict arose for the initial friend I asked, Nick was in. We had our group.

It’s easy in a story like this to say we were each hiking for some reason or another. That would be how the movies would do it. And, surely, we each had our own individual motivations and reasons or being drawn to the outdoors. But this group isn’t a story of four people looking for redemption or something missing. Our group was four people looking to consciously immerse ourselves in a backpacking trip that we might not ever have the chance to go on again. And, throughout our hike, those moments of being present in our surroundings dominated the mood.

Planning

I stepped onto the scale the night before leaving. Then I put on my pack and climbed on the scale again. The digital screen made the “thinking about it” pattern for a few and then up popped the number. The difference between the two readings? 35 pounds. Far from “ultralight,” but far lighter than the last backpacking trip I was on. A lot of planning was already paying off.

Once I had the group set, I dove right into planning. Normally, that’s a read of recent trip reports on the Washington Trails Association site and getting going. The Enchantments ask more of you.

Gear and food planning was a key part. On past trips I took too much of everything and, as a result, I had learned: I bought a lighter sleeping pad and bag. I realized that I might not need a 750 mL bottle of bourbon (350 mL should be fine.) I don’t need a change of clothes for every day. Only take the food I’m actually going to need (as it turned out, I was just about out when this trip was over).

Plus, with so many experienced folks going, there was a real opportunity to lighten our packs. Nick and I, for instance, both had water filters and camp stoves. Since we were sharing a tent (mine, also probably too heavy), he brought the stove and filter.

Then there was the route. We each carried a good map in case individuals wanted to stake out on their own. As for the path itself, it was easy because I didn’t give anyone a choice: we were going up Aasgard. No one could really argue with the reasoning though: after what would be a punishing Day 1, a few ups and downs aside, the entire rest of the three days of hiking would be downhill.

That meant we were going in at the Stuart Lake Trailhead, but we would exit from the Snow Lakes Trailhead, a few miles away. Initially, we thought we would park one car at the exit trailhead and the other at the entrance. This presented issues, though. Julia & Brian’s camper van doesn’t seat four while in motion. Also, Washington State trailheads are frequently places where cars are prowled. The Snow Lakes Trailhead, at least, is very easy for anyone to drive to. It was not the best place for a van filled with everything you need for life on the road plus valuable outdoors equipment.

Fortunately, an enterprising guy named Jordan out in Leavenworth, WA (the nearest town to these trailheads) has himself an Econoline-style van and a dandy little shuttle service. For $20/head, he’ll take you from Snow Lakes to Stuart first thing in the morning. Reservations made, and with a nearby hotel the night before, we were set.

Day 1 – Stuart Lake Trailhead to Isolation Lake, via Aasgard Pass (Elevation gain: 4,500’)

I woke up well before my alarm and I’d love to say it was because of adrenaline. That might have been part of it. Unfortunately, it was just a part.

The night before, we met up for beers and dinner in Leavenworth at a place right along the Wenatchee River called Yodelin. Beer and I have a rocky relationship, so this was probably not the wisest choice of libation for me. Suffice to say, between some of the effects of perhaps one-too-many beers, a too-fluffy hotel pillow and excitement, I could have slept better. But, no ifs ands or buts: we needed to be at the trailhead for our 7 a.m. pickup.

As we pulled into the lot, full sunshine greeting us, Jordan was already there with his van. We were his only riders for the 7 a.m. Thursday departure, so we were on our way 15 minutes early. I cannot recommend his service enough. It’s simple, but saves tons of time as well as the trouble of driving on a potholed dirt National Forest Road.

A few pack adjustments upon arriving and we were off. I had done this leg of the trip a year earlier, just to Colchuck Lake. It’s about four miles to that lake and 2,100 feet of elevation gain. And, to be honest, as hikes go in Washington, it’s a pleasure. It has some steep moments, but the scenery gets better and better with every step and by 10:30, we were sitting overlooking impossibly turquoise water and munching snacks at the foot of the lake, jagged Dragontail Peak dominating the view in front of us. To the left of Dragontail, the impossibly steep “path” up to Aasgard Pass.

We spent our time at Colchuck chatting with some day hikers who were enjoying Colchuck, their final destination of the day. They wished us luck on our way. We knew we had work to do.

That said, we consciously did not fill water at Colchuck. We had been trying to conserve and didn’t want to hit Aasgard with any more than the water we would need for the hike up. We knew water was readily available at the top and, newsflash, water is heavy. The lighter the pack, the easier our trip up Aasgard. We thought it would take us two hours, or so.

Well, to start with, it took us nearly an hour just to get around Colchuck Lake and, if I’m being honest, it may have been the stretch of the hike I enjoyed the least. Part of that was the desire to just get on with Aasgard. Secondly, this is where the trail becomes more technical.

For the purposes of this story, “technical” will mean terrain you cannot simply just walk through la-di-da. You’re going to have to use your hands. You’re going to have to pull yourself up or brace yourself against a wall of rock or you’re going down on all fours because you’re going to need three points of contact with the Earth or else you’re going to hurt yourself. The margins in technical areas can vary, but falls will at the very least hurt. In most sections of this hike I will describe, I would say the best likely outcome from a fall would be a broken bone and the worst result could be… yeah, no way to dance around it: you can kill yourself on this hike reasonably easily. It is also reasonably easy to avoid that worst case, but the technical sections of this trail have that range of consequences for those who don’t respect it.

As we neared the head of Colchuck, we had our first boulder field to cross. Huge chunks of what used to be Colchuck or Dragontail Peaks were arrayed in front of us and large stone cairns marked the “recommended” path through. Sometimes, you’re using your hands to gain a better step. Sometimes, your hands or poles are bracing you as you drop four feet to the next step. This would be rough on your knees in any circumstance. Now add in a bulky 35-pound pack.

Finally, the pitch went very up. It was time to climb to Aasgard Pass. The trail itself takes that name, despite the fact that it’s really just the point at the top.

We had discussed before setting out: go your own pace, be deliberate in your steps, we’re all going the same place and get there when you can. I have to admit, while I can tell you exactly why Aasgard was the hardest hike I’ve ever done, there was something that I wouldn’t say made it easier, but helped. Aasgard is consistent. It can feel like fresh hell, but it is consistent fresh hell: you just took a bunch of big steps and now you have to do it again. For nearly 2,000 vertical feet. There are 13 states lacking a single point above 2,000 feet.

Also, the views just get better and better. If you thought Colchuck’s blue waters looked great up close, wait until you see it from a thousand feet above. On the horizon, Glacier Peak was even visible on our walk.

And then we had the water issue. We toughed it out. Along the way, each of us helping each other either physically with hands or holding poles or through the right words at the right time. I don’t mean encouragement. I mean stopping and looking at Nick and saying “Shit, we’ve got this licked… only a half mile to the top!” as though the remaining 1,400 vertical feet in front of us was no thing at all.

We filled our water. We took four 20-minute breaks on the way up. It took us nearly four damn hours to attain the top.

And when we did, we weren’t on the trail per se. We had tracked a little to the west of where we probably should have, but this proved to be OK. The stream we used to filter water has its source right about where we came over the steepest part of Aasgard. This little lake had no name on either of my maps, so I dubbed it “Bonus Lake.” If you know its real name, I don’t care. It was the bonus lake of our trip and it was flanked by Dragontail Peak’s glaciers and it was lovely.

We still had some climbing to do, though it was mellower. The scene around us was a granite moonscape of boulders, scree, snow, trail cairns and… mountain goat scat. But no goats. I asked out loud, “Where are the damn goats?” Careful what you wish for…

Then, we turned a corner and found a shallow snowfield in front of us. It was pitched down. On the other side was Tranquil Lake, the first lake of the Upper Enchantments. We had done it.

We found a potential campsite and took our packs off. I wouldn’t call it relief as none of us had really been miserable on the climb. It was more a combination of accomplishment and excitement. It was literally all downhill from here and the next three days would include some hiking work, but mainly be a chance to enjoy.

Over a crest ahead, Brian signaled to us, he had found a better campsite. Due to the permitting process, there were few others in the basin we were in. It was, save for the wind, startlingly quiet. Little Annapurna rose above us to the South, still with plenty of snow.

After putting our gear down at our site, we scrambled up a five-foot boulder adjacent to our camp and I got my first view of the entire Upper Enchantment basin: a series of tarns and creeks separated by granite and larches. The place of legend was in my eye line. Combine that with the work we had put in to get there and I won’t lie: I had real tears. The same feeling I had when I looked at Monet’s “Woman with a Parasol” at Musee d’Orsay in Paris. The joy of something you’ve seen thousands of times in pictures, but, somehow, you’ve now had the good fortune to gaze upon in person and to have the consciousness that you might be lucky enough to see it again some day, but you can never recapture the feeling of that first time. That time you didn’t really know what it would be like and it far exceeded even your wildest expectations.

After setting camp, I climbed back up to take more pictures. I was looking straight ahead and then turned my gaze right… and gasped. Fifteen feet away on the same ledge was a mountain goat just being a mountain goat. We made eye contact and then went about our business. I quietly called the others to have a look. Pics were taken, and taken again when a marmot showed up near our campsite.

We ate rehydrated meals, and I had my favorite camp dessert: bits of Hershey bar swirled around a one-serving pack of peanut butter (gotta get your protein). Golden hour lit the path in front of us and we took it in. As the sun set, temperatures quickly dropped at 7,800 feet. The wind kicked up. By 9 p.m., we were all tented away, sleeping off one of the most strenuous hikes of our lives.

Day 2 – Isolation Lake to Inspiration Lake, option for day trips. (Elevation loss: 710’)

“Talk me out of this, Nick,” I said, looking down at Gnome Tarn from a rocky point just above Prusik Pass. We had taken this side trip after setting a new camp a little earlier. The hike up to Prusik Pass wasn’t hard, but it had been slow, altitude making every uphill step just a bit harder. The thought of scrambling down to the Tarn and the view it gives you was tempting, but it looked technical and we’d have to come back up.

These are the kinds of problems we wanted to have, and why we took Day 2 to be something of the ultimate vacation day. We had nowhere to be but the Core. The day would be light on heavy hiking and big on scenery. Our main hike was less than two miles, the idea being we could set a new camp, hang out and explore without any pressure of time to bother us.

We first woke to mist and clouds. A storm was hitting western Washington and the Cascades were scraping most of the precipitation away before it got to us. We knew as the sun climbed higher, the clouds stood no chance.

After breaking camp, we sauntered through the Upper Enchantments, taking time to look at whatever we fancied. One person would hang back, taking photos of something that caught his or her eye. We marveled at mountain goats, now seen just about everywhere, and their ability to scramble over impossible rocks with ease. We looked up and around and marveled at our surroundings. There is no place I’ve hiked quite like it. Foggy Lake at the top of Gothic Basin comes close, but you could fit hundreds of Foggy Lakes in this space.

At one point, we were able to look down at Crystal Lake from a high ridge where we could also look toward the Teanaway Peaks, specifically Navaho Pass and Peak. I had stood on Navaho Pass just two months prior looking north at peaks I was now among. It’s a feeling like filling in a spot on a puzzle.

The snow chute we had to navigate heading down into the Middle Enchantments was a puzzle of a different kind. Sliding down on the sides of our hiking boots, it took each of us a few minutes to safely navigate it. The landscape changed ever so slightly: mixed in with the granite were tundra-style plants and more larches, adding patches of green in a lot of directions. We scoped out campsites along Inspiration Lake and settled on one with a perfect view of Perfection Lake, Prusik Peak and its adjacent mountain, The Temple. When I first saw The Temple, I thought its left-most spire looked like a queen in full regalia.

Nick and I opted to stake out to Prusik Pass after that. Carrying only a daypack after the 35 pound pack I’d shouldered the day before made me feel like I could fly. But I needed to be even lighter on my feet… I needed the toilet.

The Forest Service has installed a series of pit toilets in The Enchantments. Basically, these are containers dug into the ground and covered with a wooden box. The top of the box has an oval-shaped hole and it is topped by a lid that can serve as a seat back. It is not enclosed. The downside is someone coming up the path that is specifically for the toilet could happen upon you. The upsides are that, hey, we’re all in this together. Oh, and that it beats digging a hole with a trowel and burying your… stuff. And, let’s just say this is a loo with a view. Of the toilets I used on the trip, I’d rate the one near Inspiration Lake with a view of Prusik Peak the best for views and the one at the middle of the trail along Nada Lake as the best overall in terms of privacy and cleanliness.

Business conducted, we got back on the trail and entered the Storybook Forest portion of the hike.

What I mean is, the meadows and wildflowers and mountains all looked like something out of a fairytale. That may sound like hyperbole, but I’m telling you… they even found only the most romantically whimsical marled log to bridge an idyllic brook in one spot on the north side of Perfection Lake.

We quickly gained Prusik Pass and stole a glance at Shield and Earle Lakes, basically inaccessible except to the most seasoned cross country wilderness hikers. To our right…a cairn. We scrambled up a rock pile to a view of Prusik Peak that’s about as close as you can get without climbing it and, below us, Gnome Tarn.

At first, we were content to sit and snack with the view. And we did for quite a while, but then we discovered we were both figuring out the path to Gnome Tarn. “Talk me out of this, Nick.”

After snacks and water we felt ready, figuring the path down might take us 20 minutes and, perhaps, 35 minutes back up. Who knew if we’d find ourselves in this spot again? Imagine if you have one shot to do something and you don’t simply because it might make you sweat. There was no need to talk anyone out of anything on the trail.

So, we scrambled down. It took five minutes and we were rewarded with one of the signature views of The Enchantments: Prusik Peak seemingly rising right out of the tarn. I took it in while Nick scrambled to a view from above where he reported he could see the entire Enchantment basin. After some time there, we also noticed a faint trail leading down. This is a situation where you can only be so lost, so we tried it out. Through some easy wayfinding, we found ourselves back on the initial trail we had climbed up, no scramble needed. How close we had come to not even attempting to go to the Tarn! Nick and I later agreed it was one of the high points of the trip for each of us.

Back at camp, we compared notes and heard a similar story. Julia and Brian had traveled to Crystal Lake and found that they had the entire lake to themselves. If we ever return, we will camp there. Finding little moments like that doesn’t’ happen when you’re in a rush or when you aren’t conscious of the opportunity in front of you. Say “yes” more.

We spent a lot of time just looking at things, watching the light on the mountains change at the golden hour. We also noticed that a boulder on a high ridge above Perfection Lake appeared to be defying all laws of physics by not rolling down the hill. It is a backpacking accident waiting to happen.

Nature did its best to challenge us in other ways after dinner. First, it got cold, even with clear skies. I mean really cold. This was accompanied by wind. The hardest gusts of the trip. Even layered up, the wind chill had me retreating to the tent by 7 p.m. to curl up in my bag with my Kindle. But, nature would call again before bed. At 9 p.m. I left the tent to find a rock.

Why a rock? Well, those cute mountain goats are attracted to urine. And if you pee on vegetated land, they will go after it and slowly destroy the meadows. Peeing on a rock saves that trouble.

So, here I am, cold outside the tent on uneven rocky ground, unzipping to relieve myself. I look to my right. There is a mountain goat and its child. They are both looking at me. Then they start moving toward me. Then they start running at me.

Friends, you have not lived until you’ve looked and seen a horned beast running right at you. I’d have pissed my pants except for that I was already mid-piss.

I had. To stop. And move. Quickly.

For a few seconds,I didn’t know what was going to happen. The goats went right at the rock (I am less interesting than a urine soaked rock, apparently and, perhaps, fortunately). But were they going to follow me 10 feet to rock number two? They did not.

And don’t let the baby goat fool you. He was a loudmouth at 4 a.m., doing laps around the entire campsite and making a high pitched wail. Whatever. I still got nine hours of sleep.

Mountain goats are simultaneously amazing and awful.

Day 3 – Inspiration Lake to Nada Lake. (Elevation loss: 2,190’)

It was Saturday. All the day hikers were out. One group we encountered on a rocky ledge above Lake Viviane, the last of the high Enchantment Lakes. We had been moving for 90 minutes. Not them. Despite the permit system, many people still day hike The Enchantments. This often involves a 4 a.m. start to allow for enough time to get out in daylight. It involves climbing Aasgard quickly enough to try and have enough time to enjoy the Core and then – then! – you have 7,000 feet of descent, much of it technical.

I started to understand the bonds backpackers feel with others on the trail. When we saw other backpackers, we’d discuss everything from their itineraries to things we saw. I can understand how seeing the same people over and over again on long-distance trails builds a unique bond. With day hikers though, our conversations were much different than those with overnight packs. With day hikers, it was usually a quick, “What time did you start?” and, “Well, enjoy and be safe.” I fear that many may have needed that “stay safe” advice; while some had all the right gear for day hiking, others did not.

By now, I was also enjoying the camaraderie of our group’s own shared journey. Conversation during our hiking was frequently just amazement. Someone would point out something and everyone would pause to take it in. At night, at camp, we’d talk about everything from family to college to camping gear. We’d swap travel stories, drunken exploits, dreams of our next trips and more.

Our last full day on the trail would be marked by this sort of conversation as much by the hiking. A lot of hiking, but it was rewarding hiking. The views from Perfection Lake to Leprechaun Lake were among the best of the trip. Twice, Brian stopped to fly fish in lakes, catching cutthroat with almost every cast. We paused at Sprite Lake when an impossible view caught our eye: Little Annapurna towering over a waterfall, larches, lush meadows and the lake itself.

The path, winding down toward Prusik Peak was an incredible scene that was a fitting cap to our time in the Core.

When we sat down on that rock ledge watching day hiking groups rush by, we noticed two things. The first was our amazing good fortune at being able to savor it all on our time. The second was that the trail headed down in a hurry. I cannot imagine being a day hiker and finding yourself on this terrain with tired legs. While Aasgard may have been the most technical part of this trek, the initial climb down to Upper Snow Lake from Lake Viviane is nearly its equal in terms of technical challenge. I have no idea what I would have done had it been raining. Steep and rocky, it is a relentless decent that requires frequent use of hands. It was very much work. Even in ideal conditions, consciousness of each step was needed in spots.

As we descended, we moved out of rocky, larch-dominated terrain and into traditional Pacific Northwest Douglas Fir forest. We were more than happy to take a respite at Upper Snow Lake and refuel. There were also enough tents on the beach at Upper Snow to give the impression a party would break out in the evening. We wanted to go farther for both isolation and to take some more feet off the descent.

By setting up camp at Nada Lake, we were able to tackle a significant portion of the descent and get a night’s rest. But even the climb from the Snow Lakes down to Nada was technical. When we set camp under tall Douglas Firs, we were spent. But then it was day hiker rush hour. From 4-6 p.m. we saw plenty heading by, still with 3,600 feet of downhill in front of them. Even as I closed my Kindle in my tent at 9:30 p.m., I saw headlamps pass by our tent.

The hike out via the Snow Lakes Trail drove home the fact that starting by going up Aasgard was the right choice. It would be an endless climb up to the Core coming in via Snow. And the idea of day hiking The Enchantments? Borderline lunacy. Even if you can do it, will you enjoy it?

Of course, that was easy to say when we had permission to hang out for three nights. Permits will do that to you.

Day 4 – Nada Lake to Snow Lakes Trailhead (Net elevation loss: 3,600’)

There’s a scene at the end of Oceans 11, where the entire crew that has just robbed the casinos is watching the Bellagio fountains, and one by one they peel away, smiles on their faces. Standing on the bridge over Icicle Creek, a few (uphill) steps from the Snow Lakes Trailhead parking lot wasn’t exactly that scene, but it was close.

And even though we had divided up the descent with a night’s stay along the way, getting to that bridge was work.

We got going early, figuring if we made good time, lunch and celebratory drinks awaited us. We were essentially on a mission the entire morning as we moved through steep pitches and avalanche chutes that had filled in with summer brush. It’s not my favorite kind of hiking, though there was a decent waterfall to pass.

For me, aside from the dramatic elevation loss, the most notable part of the descent was how the scenery changed yet again, moving from Douglas Firs to Ponderosa Pines, a staple of eastern Washington. A view of Cashmere Mountain to the Northwest dominated the view. But my legs were reaching their limit. On one stretch, I was continually tripping. I had to stop and focus myself on the steps, not the scenery. It’s an odd feeling when your body is only responding as best it can to what the mind is telling it to do. Everyone in our group picked their own pace for the final mile or so.

But then, the trailhead parking lot came into view. Two dozen switch backs later, we’d done it. I got to the footbridge over Icicle Creek and Nick was standing there. He went to get the car cooled off; despite the cool nights high above, it was nearing 90 degrees at 1,400’. Brian and Julia arrived shortly after. Looking at Icicle Creek rush by below, I had a feeling akin to knowing something others didn’t. It was also the feeling of work well done, which was likely why there were high fives and fist bumps when we all got back to the car.

It was an unforgettable trip, made all the more so because we not only did all the right preparation, but we seemingly caught all the right breaks. We had amazing daytime weather, not even having wildfire smoke, which has not only become a staple of Washington State Augusts, but also because smoke was literally tainting the air over the next mountain pass. Sometimes, the spheres align: you win a lottery, you get the right mix of people together, you get the perfect conditions and everything falls into place just so.

The real world doesn’t present that too often. For three nights in The Enchantments, though, all the luck one could ask for gave us the backpacking experience of our dreams.