| Report Type | Full |
| Peak(s) |
Mount Pilchuck (WA) |
| Date Posted | 02/10/2022 |
| Modified | 02/22/2022 |
| Date Climbed | 08/03/2021 |
| Author | cloudkicker |
| Cascade Lookout Larks: Mount Pilchuck |
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Cascade Lookout Larks: Mount Pilchuck
Range: Cascades (WA)
Peak: Mount Pilchuck, 5344ft
Stats: 5.4 miles round trip, 2344ft gain
Trailhead: Mount Pilchuck, elevation 3100ft
Route: Mount Pilchuck trail (NW slopes)
Intro
I have a thing for falling into adventure planning rabbit holes. These rabbit holes consist of an endless time suck going through photos, videos, routes, reviews, and reports of tucked away trails, compelling peaks, and exotic locations. I add the notable finds to an endless list, which would take me more than a lifetime to complete. I'm sure many of you have a similar wish list of adventures.
I also have a thing for old fire lookouts. My earliest hikes to Colorado classics Devils Head and (the lookout formerly known as) Squaw left me with an urge to check out old lookouts in other mountain ranges. The views from these lookouts towards Pikes Peak & Mount Evans were neat and all, but what if I could venture out to distant lookouts with views of volcanoes and other jagged peaks?
One night long ago, as I was snuggled up by the warm cozy fire more accurately known as my living room's central heating vent, I fell into one of these rabbit holes. I learned that the state of Washington has several old fire lookouts that you are able to stay in overnight, first come first serve.
As of the time of this writing, reservations are not needed to sleep in SEVEN lookouts in Washington. You just have to make the hike, hoping that upon your arrival, there is bed space (or floor space) available.
In the summer of 2021, I wrapped up a one year lease in Salida and found myself in no hurry to lock into another lease somewhere else. Colorado summers are great and all, but I needed a change of scenery for awhile. The remote nature of my job had unlocked weekend warrior opportunities in places away from Colorado. This gave me a prime opportunity to leave the familiarity of my home state for the lush, rugged beauty of the Pacific Northwest.
***If you are reading this intending to go sleep in a fire lookout, please do not abuse this privilege-- this magic must be preserved. Leave it as you found it.***
Getting There
My first lookout hike, Granite Mountain, was slightly underwhelming. I hiked it the same day I arrived in King County. There were pretty wildflowers and a great view of Rainier with a fun mini ridge scramble to the top.
To my disappointment, the lookout itself was closed off to the public as it is still in use. I knew this before the hike, but I had hoped to at least climb the stairs to the top even if I couldn't enter. No dice.
It was a pretty hike, but it did nothing to satiate my lookout lust.
A few days after Granite, I was wrapping up the work day and decided on a whim that it was time for another hike. Mount Pilchuck had been on my radar for close to a decade. I was supposed to hike it with a family friend during a previous Washington trip, but that fell through due to scheduling conflicts. At the time, I was unaware of the lookout on the summit. I unearthed its existence later, at which point it vaulted up my list into must hike territory.
Mount Pilchuck is in Snohomish County, north of Seattle's King County. It's the most prominent Cascade mountain directly east of the city of Everett. It's a local favorite; not only for the fire lookout, but for the moderate stats and awesome class 1 trail most of the way. And there's just enough challenge on the upper mountain to make you feel like you did something.
My car was already packed. To be fair, I never unpacked after I first arrived a few days before. At approximately rush hour o'clock on a Tuesday, it was time to hit the road.
The drive to the trailhead takes about 1hr 30min from the north Seattle suburbs. As you approach from Mountain Loop Highway, you enter the boundaries of Mount Pilchuck State Park.
To reach the trailhead, you must drive 7 miles up a winding, pothole-ridden dirt road. The road has a reputation for being awful to drive. Yeah, it wasn't the greatest road to be sure. But we handled it.
My vehicle's name is Diet because it's a Diet 4Runner (Highlander). It may not taste quite as satisfying as a full flavored 4Runner, but it gets the job done. On this road, it got the job done.
I couldn't hide the smug look on my face as Diet & I passed a struggling Sprinter van while we happily surfed the potholes, Colorado plates in clear view.
Diet & I arrived at the trailhead around 6:30pm. I made a glaring mistake here. I chose to leave my overnight pack in the care of Diet, along with my sleeping bag & mattress pad, thinking I wouldn't be able to spend the night in the lookout. I had guessed that it would be either closed or full given the popularity of the trail.
My game plan was to go up, watch the sunset at the lookout, hike down in the dark, and figure out where to sleep later.
After some dawdling around at the car, I finally started up the trail.
Me staring at my overnight gear as I choose my daypack instead
The Hike
Within five minutes of beginning, a distant sound both surprised me and unnerved me. Thunder. The weather in the 'burbs had been nice and sunny all day, but I had made another glaring mistake -- I assumed the weather would be the same on a peak just northeast from the city. This was clearly not the case.
I kept hiking up the trail, wondering if I would even be able to stage a summit bid. I wondered if I underestimated this seemingly easy mountain and would be punished for it. My options were to either keep going and hope for a window, or to turn around and find somewhere to wait overnight for another attempt at zero dark thirty.
I decided to keep hiking. I would continue to assess as I went.
Over the next several minutes, I heard more cracks of thunder, faint and off to the south, followed after several seconds by faint flashes of lightning. No rain fell on me.
I soon encountered a pair of gentlemen who said they had to turn back below the top because the storm was "pretty bad" up there. I told them they were wise for doing so but also expressed that I would need to decide for myself. They warned of another storm approaching from the southwest.
I sat for a few minutes on a trailside sitting log, trying to make the final decision whether or not to risk it. The thunder became less and less frequent. Still I hesitated, since I didn't have experience with thunderstorms outside of Colorado.
Eventually, another group of four hikers came down. I asked them 3 things.
1. Is the storm past the summit? (It's passing).
2. Is the lookout unlocked? (Yes).
3. How many people are staying in it overnight? (Just one solo hiker, there's room for you!).
I made my decision. It was time to DO THIS THING.
AND, I could potentially sleep in the lookout, if the other hiker would have me.
I wasted no more time. At a faster clip, I resumed hiking up the trail, hoping to reach the top before the last glimmer of light faded.
The views began to open up as I rounded the rock switchback, hurrying up the increasingly steep trail.
I caught my first view of Three Fingers, east of Pilchuck. Three Fingers has an EPIC fire lookout atop one of the summits. Three Fingers was my ultimate lookout lark goal, but as of me writing this I still haven't made the trip. More on that one later.
Sunset began, but I knew better views would await if I kept moving.
I broke through and caught my first glimpse of the top. I saw a distant figure, standing, and then sitting, atop one of the highest rocks. The other solo person!
If you remember, earlier I was smug about my car breezing up the awful road. Well, I was thankful that the person at the top was too far away to tell how much this easy trail was kicking my ass.
For an easy summit trail at Washington altitude, my heart rate was maxed out as I hustled to beat sundown.
Amazing views. Amazing sunset. Gotta hurry.
The steep trail wrapped around the west ridge of the mountain from north to south before finally giving way to the summit area.
A small grove of trees lay nestled under a series of rock ribs along the northern perimeter of the top, and on the highest point sat the lookout, with a short ladder to connect. I had arrived.
I climbed the ladder to the lookout. A beautiful brown haired girl sat with her feet dangling off a sitting rock a few boulders west of the lookout. She greeted me with a smile and a wave. I asked her if it would be okay for me to share the lookout with her for the night. She said yes. I sheepishly replied "I'm a little ripe, ragged, and rough around the edges so plug your nose around me" at which point she laughed and we were instantly friends.
She told me her name was Mo.
The Lookout
Amidst an embarrassing bout of wheezing with sweat dripping everywhere -- cooldown time moving at glacial speed -- I told Mo I had seen her from far below, standing on a rock outcropping. She pointed at the rock, the same one that had been her throne when I first arrived.
The exposure around the rock was immediate. I asked if she would risk sitting there one more time so I could take photos and video.
She clambered over to it. A violent gust of wind hit her right as she climbed onto it, a mere yardstick away from a 1000 foot drop to the base.
I was so thankful for her balance right then. I am not in the business of murdering pretty ladies in pretty places (or anywhere, I should note).
The sunset, which seemed to adhere to Cloudkicker time allowing me to BARELY reach the top, finally faded. When the air was still, it felt warm. So we hung outside, plucking stars from the night sky as they revealed themselves, handfuls at a time.
We watched as the storm continued its slow creep away to the east, leaving the lookout safely behind. One last great wind episode suddenly overtook us, and we went inside.
Mo gave me some of her background, some of which I can share. She worked at a nearby adventure company, and Tues-Weds were her days off. In addition to her work, she was also a certified search and rescue volunteer in a nearby county. She was the youngest on her team. What a complete badass!
Mo had brought her hammock with her and hung it to the fixtures inside the lookout to serve as her sleep space. I was so jealous.
I had to explain to this search and rescue girl that I DID in fact own sleeping gear (as well as a hammock!). I may have left it all in the car, but I DID NOT need to be rescued.
Somehow, my lack of sleeping gear didn't faze her or revoke the friendship status. I unrolled my emergency bivvy on the hardwood floor. I set up my Melanzana as a blanket, backpack as a pillow.
One of us remarked that all we needed were some musical instruments to have a lookout concert. To that, I said "Anyway, here's Wonderwall!" She laughed and told me she played Wonderwall on guitar at a party recently. This resonated with me for a few reasons... see my "90 proof" trip report (California Peak) from a few years ago.
I told her I would be willing to contribute to a lookout concert with my traveling kazoo and triangle ONLY. Unfortunate for both of us, I had left both instruments in the car along with my hammock. And she left her ukelele at home.
We stayed up until past 1am trading stories. She shared a love story with me. So I shared the story of how earlier in the year, I finally learned how to love myself unconditionally and accept who I am in spite of my flaws, despite my struggles with mental illnesses (depression among other things I won't share here).
The topics within the lookout ranged from the supernatural, to the philosophical, to the books we were reading, the adventures we loved the most in recent years, the adventures we were looking forward to the most, and so on.
It felt like there was no shortage of conversation between us as friends that night. Yet, there was a shortage of time. We agreed to get up to watch the sunrise at 5am. Eventually, we both dozed off. The emergency bivvy was not comfortable, but it kept me warm enough to steal a few winks.
Morning
Mo woke me up first, just before 5. I could tell how excited she was for sunrise. I grumpily asked "where's the sun" and told her I'm hitting the snooze for 10 minutes.
Soon, my own excitement would overtake the snooze button.
Two pairs of dayhikers reached the top at dawn, while Mo's jetboil readied her breakfast. One of the couples came inside and offered us their company during the sunrise spectacle. They were both very friendly and had also brought a hammock. I was the only one to not get the hammock memo. Hammock envy is real, you guys.
I discovered that this couple owned the Sprinter that Diet & I raced past the night before, on the way up. They mistook my car with its Colorado plates for a 4Runner. I was in no hurry to correct them.
They were digital nomads, always on the road, working remotely. The sun glowed on them through the windows of the lookout as the couple excitedly talked about a Bali trip coming up soon. I couldn't help but envy this couple for the love they shared together, thriving together while on the road visiting amazing far away places.
I interrupted everyone to point out the EPIC TRIANGLE SHADOW being cast onto the valley floor by Pilchuck. I had hoped to see the one from atop Orizaba in Mexico in 2020 but sat out that summit attempt thanks to food poisoning.
Eventually, all the dayhikers left. Mo & I packed up our things. She gave me her blessing to keep her company for a little while longer. We bid the lookout goodbye, climbed down the ladder, and started our hike down the trail.
We had a grand time looking at the many stands of wildflowers. I had missed seeing them in my helter skelter ascent the night before. She also showed me some trailside berries I could pick and eat without worrying about dying from poisoning. Lucky for me, she was not in the business of murdering tall annoying dudes with goofy grins.
As we returned into the thick forest, Mo shared some stories of the rigorous training she went through to be accepted onto her search and rescue team. There was a field navigation exam that sounded extremely difficult. With a career in maps I like to consider myself pretty good with navigation. This stuff she went through was far beyond my experience or expertise.
Suddenly, we were back at the trailhead. We exchanged contact info, both of us eager to reconnect for another hike. For the remainder of my time in Washington, those plans never materialized. I will say that in all my years, I've noticed unexpected friendships can quickly reignite at unexpected times.
Meeting Mo and sharing the lookout with her gave me the first full look at the magic of the Washington Cascades, its many fire lookouts, and its many wonderful adventurers. If Mo & I never cross paths again, we each share this once in a lifetime memory of an eventful night up on top of Mount Pilchuck, with a stunning sunset AND sunrise, spending all our time in between laughing and telling stories instead of wasting it on sleep.
What I Learned:
Thumbnails for uploaded photos (click to open slideshow): 
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