THESE TIMES

Step, step, step, step, step, step, step ...

Kirk Ericson | Aug 10, 20230

John Hagemann/SMCJ count

Two hikers rest along the shores of Inspiration Lake in the Enchantments.

"We don't have to get fat,

We don't have to get old.

We don't have information that we have to withhold."

-The Pretenders, "Let the Sun Come In"

Mrs. Ericson and I are doing fine money-wise, but we definitely don't have helicopter rescue money.

That thought arose as I looked up at Aasgard Pass, a muscle-bound stretch of slope that rises from the tourmaline-green shores of Colchuck Lake in the Alpine Lakes Wilderness in the central Cascades, just outside of Leavenworth. That incline of nearly 2,000 feet in two-thirds of a mile loomed like a mocking high school bully, and I wondered whether I should have had less confidence in my self-confidence.

The slope was around 30 degrees.

$15,000? Is that what they charge to airlift someone out of the wilderness?

On the weekend of July 29 and 30, I took 69,106 steps, covering 29½ miles. Those steps took myself and my hiking companion, John, up to, through and down from the Enchantments, an alpine wonder surrounded by granite spires and sprinkled with smooth pools of emerald lake. The currency required for admission to those scenes could only be paid in steps. There was no sneaking pass the doorperson.

"Three people died on Aasgard Pass last year," a ranger told me around step 10,000, near the base of Aasgard. I wondered whether she told that to all the hikers, or just me, the oldest person she likely came across that morning.

I'm 63 years old, this was my first overnight backpacking trip of my life, and the hike to the Enchantments is considered one of the hardest hikes in the Cascades.

What could go wrong?

The ranger and I were in a shaded area near the start of a field of boulders that led to the bottom of the pass. Craggy sentinels around and above the pass poked holes in the air. The sky was clear and mountain blue.

"What did they die of?" I asked.

"Two from falls, one from cardiac arrest," she said.

"How many people climb it in a year? Maybe 10,000?" I asked.

"Maybe," she said.

"I like those odds then," I said. She lowered her chin and looked at me through the top of her eyes. The look said, "You better not ruin my day."

John and I started the climb, step by precise step. The route up required picking your way around and over boulder after boulder. At several points, you could touch the ground by extending your arms in front of you. Cairns marked the route, each separated by about 40 steps. We climbed cairn to cairn, following them like a mariner follows a lighthouse, until we reached the top. We took a moment to enjoy the accomplishment, then pressed on.

I was fortunate to have a most excellent hiking partner. John's into all of the nitty-gritty required to put us in the mountains, including entering and winning the lottery drawing (a 6% chance) that allowed us to stay overnight in the Enchantments. He's got the gear, experience and navigation skills – I don't think we backtracked more than one-tenth of a mile over the 19½ miles of the trail.

He was patient with my pace. He's nearly 20 years younger than I am and in excellent shape, but he wouldn't offer any subtle admonishments, like waiting for me along the trail with his hands on his hips or saying anything that faintly suggested we needed to move faster.

He's kind and intelligent, too, which wears well on the trail.

All I had to do was drive the car, not injure myself and provide some running commentary.

I was inexperienced, but I did achieve my only desires: To not get hurt and to finish. That's the thing about experience, how do you know what you don't know? On this hike, I did learn you should carry toilet paper and you shouldn't eat multiple pounds of blueberries the day before the hike.

For two or three days after the Enchantments climb, my mind was feeling especially serene, maybe because I had done something that required sustained expression of will. But that feeling was eventually replaced by a more common human thought: If we accomplish something, it couldn't have been that hard in the first place.

But the impermanent nature of accomplishment is what moves this species forward, it's what makes us pursue the next thing that rests at the edge of our grasp.

Those are steps we need to take.