As a former neighbor and friend of mine since 1968 in Pocatello Idaho, Joe Hearst and I go back a long way. Besides hanging out off and on, hiking and camping on local hills, and playing kick the can at his place during the four years my family lived in Pocatello, Joe & I hiked 70 miles in the Sawtooth Mountains west of Stanley Basin, Idaho in late spring 1972 after my family moved to State College, Pennsylvania, and we then hiked up the Little Wood River, over a 10,000 foot pass, and into the White Cloud Mountains east of Stanley Basin on the 4th of July, 1982. In the summer of 2003 after son Robin’s Scout summer camp, Joe and I backpacked three days along Mount Rainier’s Wonderland Trail departing counter-clockwise from Sunrise. And just last weekend we car-camped a couple of nights at two different spots near White Mountain and Barnaby Buttes which lie roughly twenty miles southeast of Republic, Washington. We agreed that waiting another twenty years to go hiking together again would be … risky.
Indicative of shallow research on our parts of the region’s climatology, we were caught a bit flat-footed by pouring down rain with intermittent drizzle and temperatures just over half the 90+ degrees we had encountered at the U.S./Canadian border enroute Tonasket. Who knew we would find lush green and an explosion of wildflowers fully three weeks into July around White Mountain and Barnaby Buttes? Who knew we would discover in our cat-holes at both camps, beneath a mere inch of duff, four inches of ash delivered courtesy of Mount Saint Helens 44 years earlier?
Monday we hiked half a day, about ten miles round-trip along a uniform, moderate grade up 1788 feet to the summit of White Mountain and remnants there of a lookout tower dismantled long ago. We were grateful for very mild wind given the cool temperatures and complete cloud cover all day. At least the cloud ceiling was high enough to afford decent views of surrounding countryside though it was hazy, likely a mix of ‘marine air’ and summer fires distant but in Washington State.
The photo doesn’t do justice to the number and colors of wildflowers along the trail as we approached the summit.
Fireweed (we think) seems to be everywhere – and quickly overtakes burned areas (left). The big fire on White Mountain happened in 1988. Joe (right) standing next to the foundation of a lookout tower dismantled years before.
I’ve seldom seen so many Lupine as on the north side of White Mountain.
Perfect lunch setting.
Huckleberries provided frequent excuses for a short breaks both up and down.
Tuesday, having relocated camp Monday evening, our aspirations were throttled by fog on the ridges upon our departing camp at 7:30am. Additionally, we were skittish about the wet and stormy forecast for the afternoon … which never materialized, at least at that vicinity. By the time we’d reached the ridge between White Mountain and the buttes, fog was sporadically lifting to afford views of White Mountain and, eventually, the buttes. Our five hour round-trip trek with 1600 feet of elevation gain carried us to the base of Barnaby Buttes and back at which point, despite enticing sun-breaks, we opted for relocating some 22 miles south of Twisp and the chance for an actual backpacking trip up to Louis Lake – and warmer drier weather.
Joe on the trail Day 2 and White Mountain, summited the day before, beyond.
We camped Tuesday night at the mouth of South Creek at its junction with the Twisp River, launched early for Louis Lake, and arrived before noon – a five mile, 2253 foot, decidedly steeper climb. Who knew we’d encounter four different edible and ripe berries?! Salmon Berries came first at lower elevation. Huckleberries pretty much lined the trail once we were heading up Louis Creek. To our surprise came a substantial thicket of Raspberries in a boulder field more than halfway up, and finally a lone Currant bush. All tasty excuses for short breaks.
Left, our South Creek-Twisp River camp. Right, ever-present Fireweed (we think!) which clearly loves burned-over areas.
Oodles of ripe Raspberries!
Above shots capture a small portion of the many wildflowers in bloom along all the trails we trekked.
Three shots above of Louis Lake. The effluent stream flowed lazily beneath the many logs I walked along. This video is a panorama, complete with fingers and a bad tilt near the end.
Lone frog … and a short video showing how happy he was.
Sunset at Louis Lake
After a starry and comfortable crisp night free of flies and mosquitoes that plagued us the afternoon before, we descended at a reasonable pace and with a single break at the South Creek bridge. Somewhere, with less than a mile to go, the trail split, and we missed it. Having forgotten (this happens at our age more often than we’d care to admit), that we crossed South Creek early on the way up, imagine our surprise when we encountered a bridge over the Twisp River at the bottom. The car was a mere 300 yards away across South Creek and required every bit of thirty minutes of difficult hazardous bush-whacking to reach.
For those who’ve not driven the North Cascade Highway (Route 20) or haven’t in a long time, its breath-taking, awe-inspiring beauty is most worthy of the effort, despite lots of traffic and road-painting crews at work.
Stewart Travels 
You may know that the Twisp country is where Benton had his first gig as a WSC Forestry major. He always spoke fondly of it and took the Fam through there one of our infrequent summer trips. Thank you for great reporting!
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Nancy, I did not know that! What a pleasant coincidence, and thanks for mentioning it. While I have been through Twisp a couple of times, I had never been 20 miles upriver much less hiked in the country. It’s beautiful indeed!
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