Editor's note: Peter Wise, who last fall kayaked with friends on Ross Lake in Washington's North Cascades, is a writer and editor, as well as an avid backpacker, paddler and trail runner.
We started paddling from the south end of Ross Lake just as a breeze began to riffle the blue-green water. By the time we were ready to stop for lunch an hour later, the north wind straight out of Canada had whipped the calm waters into a froth of whitecaps. So instead of picnicking on the beach, we gobbled down some energy bars and fought our way north through the chop.
The day started calmly enough as we rolled out of Seattle at dawn and headed up Interstate 5, and then east on the North Cascades Highway to Marblemount. To camp overnight in the Ross Lake National Recreation Area you must first get a wilderness permit at the Marblemount Ranger Station, and then drive another 20 minutes to the Colonial Creek Campground on Diablo Lake. That's the most common put-in for Ross Lake paddling trips.
Diablo's calm water reflected the surrounding trees and blue sky as we loaded up our kayaks with five days' worth of supplies. The four-mile trip up the northeast arm of Diablo Lake, to the base of the Ross Lake Dam, provided a good shakedown for challenges yet to come. At the takeout we used a well-marked phone to call the Ross Lake Resort for a ride. Within 10 minutes we loaded our kayaks on to the back of a large truck for the rough, twisting drive up a steep portage road to the top of the dam. That's where the wind, and the real kayaking, started.
We paddled through the rough waters, keeping an eye out for the large campground signs. We passed Green Lake and Cougar Island campgrounds on our left, then cut across the lake to the eastern shore, where we passed Roland Point and McMillan campgrounds. We spotted the sign for Spenser's around the next point and, as luck would have it, our campsite faced north. The waves smashed into the dock, raising it up and crashing it back down.
We were ready to have a late lunch and set up camp, so we took turns approaching the lee side of the dock, climbed out as quickly as possible, and then hauled our fully-loaded kayaks out of the roiling water. The campground was set in a stand of evergreen trees; a beautiful spot. There was a metal food locker, gravel tent pads, a picnic table and large fire ring. As we ate our lunch on the less-windy side of the peninsula we pitied the two canoers stoically paddling past us, going north into the waves.
Ross Lake was calm once again the next morning, and the shimmering waters reflected the various mountains surrounding the lake. There was still snow on the tops of some of the peaks, even in mid-September. We had plenty of room to ourselves on the 23-mile-long lake that stretches north into Canada, one reason we'd scheduled our trip after Labor Day. While we did see a couple of other kayaking groups, and a fair number of small motorboats bringing tourists north from Ross Lake Resort, we were on our own.
We reloaded our kayaks the next morning and leisurely paddled up the east side of the lake to Ponderosa, our second campsite four miles to the north. On the way, we saw several small groups of backpackers on the East Bank Trail. At several points, we traveled up side gorges, floated between steep cliffs, and saw waterfalls dropping spectacularly into the lake.
Ross Lake, and its two siblings, Gorge and Diablo, were created between 1927 and 1953 as dams were constructed by Seattle City Light as part of the Skagit River Hydroelectric Project. While power generation was the main intent of the three dams, the lakes created by them offer miles and miles of paddling with nearly 20 campgrounds to choose from.
Twelve of the 19 campgrounds have boat docks. Spencer's did, but Ponderosa did not. Fortunately, the weather remained calm and these landings were uneventful. There were plenty of large driftwood logs to cradle our kayaks above the rocky shore, but unfortunately our new camp sat near a swampy area of lakefront. The mosquitos quickly found us, as did some cute, but pesky, chipmunks. I left my backpack unattended for just a few minutes, and when I returned a group of the litter came running out of it with part of a candy bar.
One of our paddlers was an experienced backpacker. He knows how to travel light, but this was kayak camping. So, he'd brought his castiron Dutch oven, an 18-inch diameter paella pan, and an insulated container with a block of ice to protect the shrimp, chorizo, and fresh fruits and vegetables. While his kayak was a chore to haul out, it was worth it with the gourmet paella that evening, and Dutch-oven-baked blueberry cobbler and cinnamon rolls the next morning.
During our two-day stay at Ponderosa, we hiked to 6,120-foot Desolation Peak, where in 1926 a fire had burned down the forest. Desolation Peak later became famous for its well-preserved lookout tower, and in 1956 was manned by the Beat writer Jack Kerouac, who wrote his book on the experience, Desolation Angels. Bring plenty of water, and start early if you decide to climb though, because it's steep and dry. But it's a rewarding summit, with 360-degree panoramas.
Back at the lake, we paddled across and checked out the lower reaches of Big Beaver Trail, a meandering, well-shaded walk with mild elevation gain. Three miles up the trail is a vast stand of old growth cedars.
Despite that howling wind the first day, the weather was calm for the rest of our trip, but paddlers should always be prepared for those afternoon winds. And make sure you pack your passport. You just may want to keep going and paddle all the way north to Canada.
Comments
Thanks for the great report. I was planning taking several boyscouts for a week long trip on the exact same outing this summer. My biggest fear was the portage from Diablo Lake to Ross Lake, but it's good to know there is a transport service.