Carne Mountain

July 30, 2016

The trail to Carne Mountain (pronounced "Karn") was another one that I nervously looked forward to. Admittedly, I was ready to turn around and go home before we were 1/4 of the way up the trail. Not because of the difficulty, mind you, but because there were enough trees down across the trail to make it not fun. Since there are other more popular trails in the area, this one doesn't get hiked as frequently, therefore it falls lower on trail maintenance radars. Other than the dozen or so trees we had to climb over/under, the terrain was even and the trail in good repair. Good trail conditions can make a difficult hike easier, and vice versa. I set my anxiety aside, pulled on my big-girl panties, and faced my most difficult hike to date.  


My hiking partner this week was my younger sister, Heidi, also an avid hiker. I always enjoy hiking with her. Unfortunately our paths don't often intersect, but all the planets in the cosmos aligned just right for us to share a few hikes together before St Helens. Our adventure began before we even reached the trailhead - the road out to the trailhead got 'interesting' in places, and we laughed the laugh of sisters as she deftly navigated every bump, drift and rock in her little Saturn. I'm here to tell ya, that company knew how to build one tough little car. When we arrived at the parking lot I learned that, although our trail isn't heavily hiked, the trail that shares the trailhead is. There were easily 3 dozen cars in the lot and more lining the side of the road, tucked into the brush and trees. We found a spot on the road, parked, donned our packs, and began our trek.

The trail starts out flat and wide for the first hundred yards or so, until you reach the spur trail for Carne Mtn. From there the trail starts a steady, steep climb through a forest of beautiful fir, hemlock and cedar. The trees grow taller and thinner on the east side of the Cascades than on the west, due to the drier climate, which give a different feel to the forest. The air was warm and the smells were divine. It wasn't long before we came to the first of many trees down across the trail - there were over a dozen in the next mile, and some fell in clusters (one tree taking out its neighbors as it fell). We made our way over, under and around each obstacle as we came upon them, noting that some of these trees had been down more than a year.

Heidi demonstrates how to navigate a downed tree like a diva

Trailside Blueberries (photo by Heidi Walker)

Once we made it past the majority of the fallen trees, my sister started experiencing the labored breathing that has been plaguing her all year. I was thankful that it was just the two of us, as we were able to slow down our pace and take more frequent rest breaks without feeling like we were burdening anyone else. The plus side to assuming a slower pace - we had time to graze on all the ripe wild blueberries that lined the trail! The rest breaks came at a cost, however ... the biting black flies were out in force and, as we fed on the blueberries, the flies fed on us. I felt like a goat being herded along by those little jerks nipping at our heels - I have almost two dozen bites on the backs of my legs! Anybody who knows me, knows I wasn't using my polite words...

As we slowly and haltingly made our way up the mountainside, we were treated to increasingly better views of the surrounding peaks and ridges. The sun kissed our faces and a cooling breeze would blow up from the valley. We could hear the Chiwawa River below us as it made its way to join the Wenatchee. Eventually even that voice faded to obscurity as we climbed into the solitude above the tree line where the only sound was that of the wind as it carried off our voices, the occasional clicking of a grasshopper in flight, ... and the stupid flies. After about 3 miles we came to blessedly cool thicket of trees in the shadow of an unidentified peak and facing a rugged waterfall. I left Heidi here to rest while I investigated the trail up ahead. I needed to see how strenuous the remainder of the trail was and calculate our location. This way we could make the decision to push on to the summit or turn around. Although not yet at the summit, the view was beautiful. I caught sight of the larches for which this area is best known, and was humbled by the vastness of the mountainous vista that stretched out before me.

Once I reported trail conditions and status back to Heidi, we decided to call it a lovely mountain hike rather than a summit trip, and we headed back down to the trailhead. The winds had picked up and the sun shifted, casting the majority of the trail in shade. With the cooler temperature, the flies retreated to wherever it is that they go when they aren't devouring hikers. (I'm thinking they return to hell) We stopped mid-trail to eat our lunches, supplemented by another few handfuls of blueberries. By the time we made it back to the obstacle course of trees, Heidi was feeling better and our usual light-hearted banter and girlish giggles resumed. As children we didn't always get along - our mother used to foretell of a day when we would be best friends. I'm so very glad her prophecy came true! 

We didn't make it to the summit of Carne Mountain this trip and I'm okay with that. My sister's health is far more important. The summit isn't going anywhere. We plan on returning this fall for an overnight pack trip, camping near where Heidi awaited me on the trail. We will venture from there to the summit. The summit is supposed to offer fantastic views that will be further enhanced by the spectacular golden hues of the turning larch. I look forward to returning and spending the night under the stars and in the shadow of the mountain with my sister.

Hike 40 of 52
Distance: 6 miles
Elevation Gain: 2395'
Max Elevation Achieved: 5840 ft