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Alluring and Beautiful BakerBy Jane Cassie  On a clear day, you can see Mount Baker from the city of Seattle, the San Juan Islands and our sundeck in White Rock. Like an omnipresent sentinel, its 3,285 metre-high snowy summit contrasts with every bluebird sky. Although not the highest Cascade peak in the range, it’s definitely the iciest. No doubt, that’s why the Lummi Indians once coined it Koma Kulshan, meaning, “The Great White Watcher.” As well as enticing winter powder hounds, this Washington icon is etched with plenty of trails to lure us fair-weather hikers. In our earlier mountaineering years, we’d tried a few of the more challenging routes: the steeple-steep switchbacks of Church Mountain, the craggy ascent up Goat Trail, and the heart-thumping heights of Heliotrope Ridge. During every thigh-burning ascent, we were privy to astonishing rewards from flower-clad meadows to panoramic views. Now, years later, my quads aren’t quite as peppy about doing the pitch. Thank heavens Ptarmigan Ridge offers us the best of both worlds - jaw-dropping vistas without as much uphill grunt work. But even though there’s a little less elevation gain, this hike isn’t exactly a walk in the park. It can be rough and sketchy in parts and, depending on the annual snowfall, may still be draped in some of the slippery white stuff. Ominous clouds can also quickly horn in, enshrouding the surrounding beauty and blurring the route. But on this day, it’s crystal clear and totally free of nature’s obstacles - and we’ve come prepared with enough GORP and Gortex to combat any famine or foul weather. A National Forest pass is mandatory to park anywhere in the Mount Baker recreation area and after doling out our $5 at the Glacier Public Service Center, we travel eastward and upward on Highway 542. The paved pathway bisects groves of evergreens, sub-alpine flora and vacated ski lifts that wait patiently for the winter ski mob. After numerous swerves, curves and hairpins, we climb 1,676 metres and reach Artist Point. This is where our SUV gets a well-deserved break and our legs take over. Access to the Chain Lakes’ trailhead and spectacular ridge walk can be found in the parking lot’s northwest corner. And on this sunny Sunday morning, it’s not hard to find. “It may seem a bit like Grand Central,” Brent says, as we follow the crowd, “But it’ll thin out once we get going.” My hubby has hoofed enough popular hills in the past to know, and as soon as we head away from this bustling hub, the strand of nomads fan out over Mother Nature’s wonderland like ants at a picnic. Our pencil-thin pathway traverses the base of lava-made Table Mountain and though the steady incline isn’t too strenuous, my eyes are fixated on the route ahead. Primarily, this is so I can safely manoeuvre the roots and rubble underfoot. Secondly, it helps steady my vertigo on this open southern slope that hovers high above Swift Creek and Rainbow Valley. But every so often, I just have to take a moment and look around. And this isn’t a tactic to slow my raging pulse. Beyond the talus slope and yawning gorge is a vista that even Heidi would drool over. The jagged majestic Mt. Shuksan dominates the backdrop of this picture postcard setting. Glacial remains pocket many of the weather worn crevices and its needle-sharp summit seems to pierce the cloudless sky. I’m awestruck by its magnitude and mesmerized by its beauty. But just ahead, there’s visual overload in store, and if I want to see it, I have to keep on trekking! At the 3km mark, we come to a fork in the footpath, where the Chain Lakes Trail divides. Many of the hikers take this low road. It descends 152 metres to a splattering of lakes, then elevates to Herman’s Saddle at 244 metres where the snow cone of Baker beautifies the backdrop. But we manage to get even closer. As if spellbound like mice of the pied piper, we head for the high road, a route that will lead to the base of this icy apex. Along the way, our tundra trail is flanked by a riot of wildflowers: flaming paintbrush, glorious Partridge Foot and alpine Spirea. Mountain Monkey plants provide a cushy groundcover and edible-ready blueberries are perfect for snacking on - especially by the namesake ptarmigan birds, who populate the area. Colour-rich flora, snow-draped knolls, granite monoliths; the only thing missing is a round or two of the Happy Wanderer. We elevate to higher ground, gingerly cross ice fields and steer clear from gaping cracks and crevices. And with each step, we get closer to that alluring landmark. We pass the 1,768-metre mark and a kilometre further come to the base of the Coleman Pinnacle. But there’s no need to scale this steep-pitched summit. We have what we’ve come here for. And while setting up our picnic at Camp Kiser, we can’t take our eyes off it. It seems to be within our reach and is more captivating than ever. There, in all its full-blown beauty is the glistening gem, the crown jewel, the snowy mountain that I can see from my deck in White Rock - alluring and beautiful Baker. For more information: www.mtbaker.us/summer
AUGUST 2010 SENIOR LIVING MAGAZINE VANCOUVER & LOWER MAINLAND
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