5.8 miles, 2400' gain, 200' descent

9.2 miles including my Sunset Park Lookout Site side trip

A short day in miles, but the climb is relentlessly brutal. First, though, a river crossing. The South Mowich River is notoriously temperamental, dislikes bridges, and is constantly hopping out of its channel as it changes its mind about where it wants to flow. A few years ago it somehow ended up merging with the North Mowich River somewhere upstream, confusing everyone who had the crossing on the south side of camp down as the more difficult of the two, but this year the water is back in more or less its usual place. We find two main channels here today, luckily both with solid log bridges in place.

This valley is home to the kind of old growth that other rainforests aspire toward while feeling perhaps a bit intimidated by it. I wouldn't say it's exactly hostile to human life, just indifferent: older and vaster.

But we climb, leaving the rainforest behind. Huckleberries come to our rescue as lungs are working hard. We make it to camp early, while gathering clouds threaten squalls.

The water source at Golden Lakes is the lake, but filtering from the obvious spot behind the ranger cabin would be silty. Better to head left, over the rocky outcrop to where there's a nice clean place both to filter and to swim (although it was too cold for me to want to swim today).

With so much of the day left, I decide to take a side trip up to Sunset Park Lookout Site. I sit up there for quite some time while hailstones fall intermittently around me, feeling fantastic. I'm in an obscure, remote place, all on my own with questionable weather, but am equipped with the right knowledge and gear for it. I know this mountain so well now that I had no hesitation about finding my way up here without referring to map or compass. It's my mountain and I feel like I belong here.

Back in camp, we enjoy a glorious sunset with views out over the Puget Sound lowlands. Later in the night it hails heavily, but we're in a great mood, shouting "oh yeah!" back and forth between our tents as they are pummeled by falling ice.