Over the last several days, I read as much about this hike as I could find. Two challenges stood out to me. It's a steep hike and it requires maneuvering through a talus slope. But, I also knew that much of the hike was in shaded forested territory, that I'd see a variety of remarkable waterfalls, and that I would get to trek through a meadow thick with wildflowers and other foliage.
Almost from the get go, first the old rocky road and then the single-track rocky trail ascending the mountain was steep. Occasionally, the trail leveled out -- like in the meadow --, but for the most part, for me, this hike was a lung burner and a heart pounder. Early on, Byrdman spotted a sturdy stick nearly six feet long on the side of the trail and recommended I try it out as a hiking/walking stick. I eagerly accepted his recommendation. Little did I know, at the time, that the rocky trail and our treks through the talus slope would continually challenge my sense of balance. The hiking stick gave me a way to anchor myself, to plan how I would negotiate the many testy spots on the trail where I had to climb up rock steps, climb through the talus where the trail was nothing but big rocks, and deal with rocks and roots jutting out of the ground.
I hiked this trail slowly. I rested a lot, sometimes not walking more than twenty or thirty feet between rests. I hydrated frequently. I have seen pictures over the years of last place finishers in marathons or at Bloomsday who stagger across the finish line, having finished several hours behind the race's leaders. Sometimes these spent runners have to be carried to the finish. Well, I didn't have to ask Byrdman to pack me those last yards to the shore of Lower Stevens Lake, but as I maintained my slow, sometimes steady, but often stop and go pace, I felt like one of those last place runners. Luckily, I wasn't in a race. I had no need to hurry. My frequent resting stops gave me ample occasion to admire the thickly forested mountain sides, the stunning rock formations growing out of other slopes, and the staggering variety of the trail itself: towering old trees, wildflowers, the rush of Willow Creek, waterfalls, the huge irregularly shaped gray rocks on the talus slope, rocks looking ready at any time to resume their tumble down the mountainside, but not moving, providing us a remarkably stable passage through this part of the trail.
2. Had there not been a perfectly calm, sapphire lake, sitting in the bottom of an alpine cirque at the end of this trail, I would have been perfectly happy with this hike and its grandeur.
But, after one final push up one more incline, Lower Stevens Lake suddenly appeared. The driftwood logs on the shore were perfect seats and I plopped myself down on one. Byrdman had arrived at the lake quite a ways ahead of me and he'd found a stick to toss in the water for one of the dogs to swim out to and retrieve. I sat and marveled at the undisturbed surface of the lake, at the mountain slopes growing straight up out of Lower Stevens Lake, at the number of logs submerged in the water, and towering presence of Stevens Peak hovering to our south. I marveled. I drank water. I ate trail mix and an apple. Byrdman's dogs delighted me. Byrdman and I yakked.
If I were about twenty years younger, I would have loved to have hiked to Upper Stevens Lake. Once there, I would have enjoyed contemplating a scramble up to the top of Stevens Peak.
But, alas, I am what I am and making it to Lower Stevens Lake was enough work for one day. If someone could have helicoptered me in a tent and a camp stove and some food, I would have enjoyed camping here for the night, waking up to this lake, and done a little more exploring after a good night's sleep. Since none of that could happen, I was more than happy after about 45-60 minutes on the shore, to head back down the trail.
3. The descent from Lower Stevens Lake challenged me in different ways than the ascent. I gained traction and kept my balance by descending the steep trails slowly and by relying on my hiking stick. As I descended back through the talus slope, the sun's heat reflected off the rocks, making that part of the hike hot and demanding for me. At the end of the trek through the talus, the trail crosses West Willow Creek at a waterfall. The waterfall drops over a descending series of rock formations, making the water look like a series of spider webs coming down the mountain. I think it would be called a cascade waterfall, similar to, but not quite as dramatic as Proxy Falls near the summit of McKenzie Pass in Oregon. Waterfalls are the best air conditioners in nature. Crossing the creek, standing on its rocks and facing this waterfall cooled me off, revived me and I was ready to make my way back through the meadow and on to the forested area down below a ways.
In the forest, there's a makeshift camp site with pieces of log placed upright on the ground and a cleared out area for a campfire. It's a dark and generously shaded spot. Byrdman had stopped here to rest and I caught up to him. Even after cooling off in front of the waterfall, I was getting lathered up again and gratefully welcomed taking a rest in this area.
We resumed our descent. I continued to be cautious and slow, lagging well behind Byrdman. The single track ended and I started down the road. Hiking down this road was the easiest section of the descent, most of the time, but it seemed a longer stretch going down than it did going up. I succeeded in pushing back fears that I had taken a wrong turn somewhere, assured by the comforting sounds of Willow Creek to my left, that I was on the right track. About ten or fifteen minutes after my doubts started to rise up in me, off in the near distance I saw Byrdman, learned he had finished about fifteen minutes before I did, and I piled back into Byrdman's truck and we headed home.
I thought a lot about this hike for the rest of the afternoon and evening. Primarily, I imagined myself coming back, bringing my camera, and hiking sections of this trail -- I could see myself just going up the road as far as there is easy access through the woods to Willow Creek and going off road and just exploring the creek and its waterfalls. I could imagine hiking as far as the makeshift campground or ending a hike after going through the meadow and stopping at the cascade waterfall. I could have some very good hours on this trail without going to its end -- this is all I've done on Coal Creek so far and I enjoy partial hikes on the Pulaski Trail. That said, I've seen some pictures of Lower Stevens Lake in the autumn and on a clear cool October day, I'd love to go back to the lake and see those brilliant colors on the mountainside for myself.
Here are some pictures from Byrdman's cell phone. You can see me in the meadow, Stevens Peak, Jim and me at the lake shore, and one of the waterfalls on Willow Creek.
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