The Pasayten: Healing in the Burn
The 17-mile backpack up to Ashnola Mountain feels much longer when your legs are burning and the flies are biting. I’ve visited this remote and delectably lonesome destination several times since the 2017 Diamond Creek Fire, which transformed 128,000 acres of the Pasayten Wilderness into a blackened forest of frail and fallen matchsticks.
But last week’s trip with Robert and our 12-year-old (now deaf) husky mix, Alder, really upped the ante. I’d barely recovered from bacterial pneumonia when we hit the trail, a horse-trodden, dusty pathway that traverses 3 steep passes and gains a total of 5,000 feet in elevation before arriving at our destination, McCall Gulch—which sits at over 7,000 feet.
I’m not proud of the potty-mouth rhymes I spat at the effing flies, nor of the expletives I cast at poor Billy Goat Pass—the first and worst of the lofty trio. On day one, especially—when the temperatures soared and my spirits were dampened—I struggled so much against my own lungs and mind that I bleated like an old goat myself, questioning if I’d bitten off more gristled terrain than my aging body could chew.
But I kept going, albeit not at my best, until day one surrendered to deep sleep and day two brought new surprises—including a dead Canada lynx sniffed out by Alder near the trail. The lynx lay prostrate at the edge of a dry creek, decomposed but still fresh enough to cook up a macabre stew of maggots. The carcass was a sad but valuable find given the rarity of these ghostly cats, who have suffered great habitat loss as a result of catastrophic, climate-change fueled fires like the Diamond Creek. We were relieved to see that lynx were still out there, even if this particular youngster didn’t thrive.
Miles beyond our initial camp at Three Fools Pass (a name I chose not to take personally), we spent 2 nights in the McCall Gulch meadows at the base of Ashnola. Here is where my healing began. As part of our research with Woodland Park Zoo, we deployed motion-triggered cameras and a scent dispenser about an hour from our tent—equipped to survey lynx and other visitors for a full year.
Then we wandered until sunset, savoring the wildflowers, the snowfields, and the wild vistas that had compelled me to put one foot in front of the other when I wanted nothing more than to stop.
I hope you have a few more minutes to share in our journey via the additional photos and videos below. And if you ever have the chance to trek to Ashnola, by all means, do so—despite the dust and the flies and the inner challenges you’ll no doubt carry with you.
Those blissful first steps.
Amazingly, a few trees survived the flames and are now growing up.
Dysmorphic selfie: The morning after Billy Goat Pass. Eyes and lips swollen from bug bites, big bad hair courtesy of my sleeping bag. I guess tents don’t have mirrors for a reason!
On the trail again. We can do this, Alder!
Before the fire, we would have had no distant view from this vantage point.
Alder leads us to a lynx carcass. It is hard not to imagine the lynx stretching toward the dry creek for one last drink that never emerged. Alas, the creek probably wasn’t dry when she or he died, and the cause of death is unknown.
Lynx skull. Unfused suture lines and unworn teeth suggest a young animal.
Aaahhh…we’ve reached our camp in the meadows.
Taking refuge from the flies and mosquitoes.
Third morning’s a charm; the insects haven’t warmed up yet.
A good camping chair is worth its weight!
Coffee with a view.
Pasqueflower.
Robert installs one of our remote cameras.
Can you feel the solitude?
Scanning for black bears (we didn’t see one this trip).
Cloudscape.
Cooler weather=no bugs=happy campers.
Where gray wolves and Canada lynx have freedom to roam.
Did you say wolves?
Corral Lake.
The massive scale of wildfires like the Diamond Creek serve as a sobering reminder of what’s at stake for lynx, other wildlife…and us!
Suddenly I’m awash in wildflowers.
Time to do it all in reverse.
One of my favorite little wet spots. The mosquitoes like it, too.
Shade can be hard to find in these parts, so you have to take advantage when you can.
One carnivore overmarking another. Any guesses?
This one is easier: bear scat!
Prolific fireweed brings vibrancy to the burn.
Still life: white rocks, blackened trees, ground cover, blue sky.
Post-backpack respite on the Methow River.