Cascade Creek

Clearing the Revett Lake trail

The trail was quiet midweek. The only vehicle in the Thompson Pass parking lot was a Forest Service truck, though we never crossed paths with the crew on the Revett Lake trail. Equipped with an electric chainsaw and determined to find a path through the chaos, we set out. The first stretch of the hike was silent. As we walked out of the timber and onto the open rock slides, a rushing sound echoed from far below. In the spring, fed by melting snow upstream, Cascade Creek runs high. The water surging over rocks and falls filled my aged ears with a steady roar. Looking down through the trees, a white cascading waterfall came into view, its sound ascending the rocky hillside to meet the trail.

During a previous reconnaissance, we discovered the trail was blocked by trees. Some were small, but others were massive titans of the forest lying across the path. Our tiny saw was no match for these behemoths; our only hope was to clear a route over, under, or around their fallen carcasses. This second trip was likely our last chance to punch a feeble path through the carnage.

The trail across the first rock slides was clear, climbing until it turned out of the sun and into the dark forest. Usually a quiet, peaceful trail, cool in the shade even on a hot day, the difference was shocking. An open sky loomed above, while an endless mass of trees and branches blocked the path. A sense of loss came over me at the destruction of these woods. We cleared sections of chaos and moved on, each one worse than the last, until we approached what appeared to be a complete blockage. Two massive root balls towered above us. One stood nearly the height of a two-story building; a titan had fallen. Approaching the area, I spotted a narrow passage past the first, and as I rounded it, I saw we could crawl under the next.

We pressed on. Soon, the trail began to clear, with only an occasional log, easily cut, blocking our way. Cascade Creek was drawing close, and we could see the rushing water spreading out among the trees, winding its way down the mountain. We made it to the crossing, where logs were placed across the stream. Exhausted, we decided to turn back for the day. Our plan is to take the trail again without the heavy saw and batteries, hoping it is clear beyond the creek, with the ultimate goal of making it to the lake next time.

As I turned to hike out, I saw an old friend standing tall and strong—not all the titans had fallen. The loss of these majestic hemlocks, subalpine firs, and western larch trees is disappointing, but it remains a part of the forest’s natural cycle. I know the young trees will grow faster with the increased light on the forest floor and, in time, will replace the fallen timber. This quintessential trail will be here long after we pass, and generations will come back to hike with their fishing poles and tents, spending time at Revett Lake. In the 50-plus years I have hiked the trail, it has never disappointed me. It is a steady constant in my life, yet always different. I hope you enjoyed this tale. If so, come back again; I will have something completely different, perhaps surprising, but always interesting.

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Project Aegis

I love to travel and visit new places but sometimes my imagination takes me elsewhere. Each week I will release a new chapter of my book and you are invited to travel along.