Goat Rocks – Lost Lake Loop

For my last back-packing trip of 2021 I decided to do a short, 3 day hike I’ve done before; the first time was about 15 years ago; I think the second was 6 or 7 years ago. It’s a total of about 33 miles, but includes some very rough country and spectacular scenery. Unfortunately the sky was still pretty smoky, the scenery was not up to its usual standards. Otherwise it was an excellent hike. The route is shown to the right. The first day starts out with a long mostly level hike parallel to the Clear Fork of the Cowlitz River, then crosses the river and starts steeply uphill until it joins the PCT. A mile or so further along is a detour down into the McCall basin (lower right on the map) where I camped the first night. The second day ascends almost to the Goat Rocks summit, then follows Coyote Trail along the top, then the side, of a long rocky ridge, culminating at Lost Lake, where I camped the second night (another detour, near the top left.) The third day passes over Lost Lake Summit, side-hills along the ridge, then eventually crosses over and descends back to the junction with the Clear Fork Trail. Sept. 1. Weather was cool for early September, but sunny, dry, and pleasant. I had noted on my map of the area that the forest service road to the trailhead is rough – actually, it was in excellent shape until near the end, when it became riddled with pot-holes, then became increasingly rocky. The last steep quarter mile or so is covered with huge (football-size) rocks, very much like what you might find in a scree field. Low gear, slow as you can go; without high clearance and heavy-duty tires you wouldn’t want even to consider it. The first several miles of the Clear Fork trail are well-maintained, mostly level with some up and down, only a few dead-fall to deal with. However, once it crosses the river (creek really, at that point) and starts up, it gets ugly fast – lots of dead-fall, detour around, clamber over, even crawl under. Several ravines were badly eroded; in one ravine, three fallen trees, lying at a steep angle, provided a precarious way across. This went on for the entire final three miles up to the junction with the PCT. I was pretty bushed; a granola bar and 15 minute rest repaired some of the damage. The PCT is much better maintained, and at that time of day I only encountered a half dozen through-hikers on my way to the McCall Basin cut-off. Halfway there I passed a swampy little pond, Lutz Lake, next to a very nice campsite. The water was quite unappealing. McCall Basin: I recalled a sublime campsite next to a lovely little brook from my last hike here – well, the brooks were mostly dry, but after 30 minutes of scouting the meadows I did find one trickle, enough to fill my water filter bag, and it was right next to a nice camp-site. If it had been completely dry I’d have had to press ahead hoping for a snow-melt stream two miles further up toward the pass – or go back to swampy Lutz Lake. Pleasant afternoon munching peanuts to repay some of the energy deficit and reading Bill Gates’s book about Climate Change. By the time I had boiled water and eaten my freeze-dried dinner, it was getting quite cold, and the mountain to the west cast an early deep shadow; I ended up in my sleeping back about 7:15, for a pleasant, sound sleep. Sept. 2. I awoke at 4, put my gas can inside my sleeping bag to warm the gas up enough to evaporate and burn in the morning chill, managed to get another hour of sleep while dodging frost-bite from the can. By 5:30 it looked light enough to stumble around getting breakfast, so I performed the acrobatics of dressing inside a one-person REI quarter-dome tent – underwear, long underwear, pants, shirts, fleece, jacket… By the time I’d completed what amounted to a morning workout and crawled out of my tent, it actually was light enough to see. Coffee first, with a granola bar and a couple of gluten-free fig / blueberry newtons. Strike the tent and roll it up (with my deflated sleeping pad inside it); a second cup of coffee and another granola bar, then get serious about packing up: On the trail, still warmly dressed, at 7:30. Unfortunately it was still smoky; my photos of the Goat Rocks peaks and crags aren’t much. Fortunately, this mountain goat gave me something to photograph. He looks well-fed, especially considering the drought conditions. By the end of the first mile I was delayering; soon after the mountain goat I stopped to take off my long underwear and undershirt. It was still cool in the shade, but the hiking kept me warm. A little farther up the trail is a spot where I camped the first time I did this loop – lovely spot near a stream (it was dry last time I was here but had water this time) with a great view of Rainier as I recall. Someone was camped there so I didn’t go over to check it out. I was encountering PCT through-hikers about every half-mile in the morning, and almost every flat spot anywhere near water had a tent or two on it – many of them I’d guess making a last dash toward the Canadian border before snow hits the North Cascades, but also some just out for a few days on the trail. From the last time I hiked this loop I recalled a long stretch, at least four miles, running along the steep side of a narrow ridge. The picture to the right shows Rainier looming over that ridge – the trail curves around the farthest peak. This image was taken from just before a precarious section of the PCT, where it follows a narrow ledge around a steep cliff, part of it a sheer vertical drop of several hundred feet. Around the corner the trail leads out onto a nice broad ridge; a few hundred yards on I came across eight hikers resting and chatting- two separate groups I think. I went on down to the junction with Coyote trail, where I stopped for water, a granola bar, and a ten minute rest, and snapped this photo of the trail sign. On the reverse side is an old, very faded sign that warns about the hazardous conditions for livestock. From before I recalled several long sections of trail where I would not want to meet another hiker, much less a string of pack animals. (Nonetheless, I passed several mounds of horse-turds between there and Lost Lake; it seems some horse-lovers can’t read.) I also took a picture of the Goat Rocks across the narrow canyon between. The smoke had cleared well enough by this point that their rugged beauty shows pretty well. The Coyote trail makes a long descent, several hundred feet down to a saddle, before it climbs steeply back up again, both along the ridgeline and along the side near the ridge-line. To the right, a typical stretch of this section (looking back across the saddle toward Goat Rocks). The trail is rarely even a foot wide; in some places it’s only a few inches. This section wasn’t too scary, but there are several areas where the drop is so steep that if you fell, you’d likely slide (or tumble) all the way down. There are several places where the trail has been repaired from washouts, and several short steep sections with gravel and cobbles, with a steep scree and gravel slope below – not too bad going uphill but I’d hate to come down them, especially without trekking poles to control the sliding. Some of the worst stretches showed evidence of a recent trail crew, maybe Forest Service but probably WTA volunteers – these had been widened to a foot or more. There were also several fresh saw-cuts where deadfall had been cleared. I’ve done a lot of trail work but I can’t imagine even carrying tools over most stretches of this trail, much less work on them. Hats off and a heart-felt thank-you to the intrepid trail crews! Like many of the other lakes I’ve visited this summer, Lost Lake shows the results of the prolonged drought: You can see the “bathtub ring” – the lake is at least ten feet below full. Otherwise it’s a beautiful lake, with several great camp-sites along the south shore, one acceptable site next to the trail. I spent a very pleasant afternoon here, though even in the middle of the afternoon the air was too chilly to think about swimming. Like McCall Basin, I had the lake entirely to myself. The long spells of total silence (between airplanes) were wonderful. However, even this far from the trailhead someone must have been feeding the chipmunks – I heard them rustling around next to my food bag and realized I would have to hang it up somewhere – usually that isn’t necessary in a place this remote. It was at least five degrees warmer than the previous night; I was able to remove my long underwear and most of my other warm clothing before hitting the trail. The trail climbs a total of 1000 feet but most of it is fairly gradual, not much over 10%, through pretty woods and meadows. Then the trail rounds the bend and reveals the real reason why people are not supposed to bring pack animals. If you look closely at the photo, you can see the trail, almost horizontal across the top of a very steep scree slope, above a couple of near-vertical cliffs, and around a rocky point – the contrast is too poor to see it but it is a near vertical drop where it rounds the point – and there’s at least another hundred yards just like this beyond the point, a total of probably a quarter mile of sheer terror. Most of what you see in the picture is less than a foot wide, some only a few inches, fortunately pretty solid, but you want to keep full attention on every step. After I took this photo, there was no place I felt safe to stop to take a photo until I reached the summit. Even the junction with the Coal Creek Trail was too narrow to risk fumbling around with my iPhone for a photo. The other side is almost as steep, but about 100 feet down the scree gives way to grass and wild-flowers; an outright fall, if you started rolling, could be fatal, but a mis-step wouldn’t be such a problem. The slope is very steep all the way down to Lost Hat Lake (where I spent a cold rainy night the first time I did this loop, after being followed by thickening clouds and dropping temperatures the entire way from the PCT junction). It never was much of a lake, and half-drained by the drought it wasn’t even much of a pond. Below Lost Hat Lake the trail descends a few hundred more feet then side-hills past a series of folds in the ridge (up 50 feet, down 50 feet, level for a hundred yards or so, repeat). There were several lovely little meadows and a couple of ponds where one might pleasantly camp along this stretch. Just after the trail started downhill I met a very nice young couple. The young man, who seemed to have instigated and organized the hike, asked where I was coming from and about the trail. After I reassured him that the trail wasn’t washed out, and showed signs of a recent trail crew, he said he didn’t want to hear anything more – apparently knew it is not a trail for the faint-hearted. I did remark about their lack of trekking poles and warned them about some of the tricky cobble and gravel slide spots. Later I wondered – I hope they are both experienced hikers. This isn’t the trail to get a novice excited about back-packing. The bottom part of the trail is pretty awful – a lot of deep erosion-ditches and long step-downs. At least the deadfall have all been cleared. I was glad to reach the junction and the well-maintained trail back to the car. Friday before Labor Day. Packwood was having some kind of festival, lots of visitors camping out in vacant lots, main street (otherwise known as the main highway) jammed with people, 5 mph through town. All I could see was lots of food and crafts booths – rather like the annual Hawthorne Street fair, but people seemed to be having a good time. It was a great trip in spite of the smoke, a good trip to end this summer’s back-packing season.