Kath and I went camping close to home, at Colonial Creek in the North Cascades. Close is such a nebulous, relative term, is it not? This park feels like our backyard, always close, always in view.
Our campsite at Colonial Creek Campground sat a mere quarter mile from Highway 20, the very road that winds past our house, though at the opposite end of Skagit County. Colonial Creek tumbled down from the towering 8,000-foot peak that shares its name, feeding into the glacial-blue depths of Diablo Lake.
Across the highway, Thunder Creek mirrors this journey, and just a short walk from where we set up camp. The Thunder Creek Trail takes hikers on a sojourn into the heart of the park, following the glacier-fed creek from its forested valley to its origins high on the heathered slopes of Park Creek Pass. We had never hiked this trail before. It quickly became one of our favorites.
I had gone earlier in the morning, long before daybreak, out of curiosity mostly, to follow the river upstream and see where the trail leads. Clouds clung to the peaks as I walked in the cool silence of the dawn.
As I hiked, I realized I had entered a magical, majestic cathedral of towering giants, their presence timeless, their size humbling. They shadowed the ever-flowing river that flows nearby.
When I returned shortly after sunrise, Kath asked about what I had found. “Heaven,” I replied. “I can’t wait to have you come see.”
After a breakfast worthy of adventurers, we set off together on our gentle ascent. Our modest destination was the bridge that crosses the creek a mile and a half from the trailhead. Our true goal lay in immersing ourselves in the wilderness, letting it reveal its quiet and eternal beauty with each step.
The spirit of the place quickly revealed itself to Kath. The river murmurs stories older than memory, its voice woven into the towering trees, into the breath of the land itself. The forest cradles you, drawing you deeper with each quiet revelation. Soon, you surrender to its rhythm, letting its tempo dictate your steps. Every turn in the trail unveiled another grove of stately elders, another tapestry of shifting hues and dancing light. The plaintive melodies of varied thrushes echoed like whispered secrets, joined by the rising flute of a Swainson’s and the piccolo trill of a Pacific wren.
Sunlight ignited the mosses, maples, and maidenhair ferns, painting the trail with splashes of green. Bunchberry, starflowers, columbine, and candy flower added bursts of color. We played with the personalities of the trees—some hollow, some curled around stone, some twisted into fantastical shapes—but most stood tall, straight, resolute.
Getting to the bridge granted some final gifts – a pair of deer walking the beach, a dipper doing its dance, and sunlight sparkling off the river waters and dissolving the clouds from the distant peaks.
Entranced, we played in the sand at the water’s edge and soaked up the sights, smells, and sounds of this wilderness land.
Eventually, we drifted back down the trail, greeting the trees we had met on the way up, promising we'd return to them again soon. They will be close in our hearts and not far from our home.
- Yes, there is a video! It is 6 minutes and 20 seconds of the sights and sounds of our journey. https://youtu.be/CxHLfdHDSw8
The short trip back home was made a little bit shorter by stopping at 5 B’s for a bumbleberry pie (Jack) and at Starbucks for a lavender matcha latte (for Kath). Mmmmm!
Directions
Directions: Take Highway 20 east past Newhalem a few miles to the Colonial Creek campground. The trailhead is at the back of the campground, and has room for over a dozen cars. More parking is available near the entrance to the campground.
By Bike: It's a long bike ride from our islands, but we passed a couple bikers doing just that!
Mobility: The well-traveled trail is wide in places, narrow in others. It has rocks, roots, and many gentle ups and downs.
Trail Conditions: In great shape right now as far as the bridge, with the only mud encountered being near the campground amphitheater.
Republished with permission. Read the original article.