Shakes to Castle SE Hike 6.19.16 - 6.25.16

It didn't start out as a plan to hike around the in the Shakes and Castle Mountain area.  A Facebook comment and a conversation with an old friend, Bob, made it possible to fill the void in my vacation plans when my Devil's Thumb climb plans went awry.  Bob and I have had many an adventure around Wrangell and the Stikine so any potential disappointment quickly changed to excitement as I eagerly started anticipating another trip with Bob.

I now get a lot of help packing my climbing gear.  Rest assured, this is a hoisting, not a hanging.  

I headed up toward Wrangell by way of the the blue pacific on June 19th.  For those who haven't traveled the Alaska Marine Highway during the temperate months, you may have missed the campground that springs up on the rear deck of the ferries.  Can't drive your tent stakes into the steel deck?  The solution is duct tape of course.    

After a delicious meal at the Stikine Inn, we packed up and the next day waited until the tide starting rising before jumping into the jet skiff and heading up river.  You may think that two boats for two people makes sense.  We actually brought three boats, sort of...  no self respecting Wrangellite would count a paddle craft as a boat... so maybe we only had one "real" boat after all.    

Sure, we may have nice blue (or green) water in Ketchikan that is actually transparent, but I sure miss the Stikine murk.  

Mr. Sampson with a fish delivery.  Must have started early.  He was still wearing a headlamp.  

Seals, seals, and more seals.  We came across a couple groups of about 40-50 lounging around on sandbars.  These cuties were doing the best they could to distract us so that this would happen:  

Anyone who has spent time navigating the Stikine flats knows what this is all about.  I'm sure those seals were laughing as Bob tows the boat back to deeper water.  

The tattered flag flies proudly at a float house.  

Moose camp!  Gotta love that porch swing.    

Another float house.  

Complete with a little Stikine Humor.  

Common mergansers.

Home sweet home.  I've spent quite a few cozy nights in there as the gales would howl down the Stikine valley.  

Castle Mountain will become a recurring theme in this blog entry...  Okay, so maybe it is actually a theme of this blog.  Speaking of Castle, in Bob's house I saw a Brenda Schwartz-Yeager painting that I must add to my wall.  I heard that Christmas is going to be on December 25th again this year for those of you who weren't clear on that point.  

The white sands of Shakes Slough.  

Behind me is where we ditched the canoe.  We were unsure of whether we would come down the way we went up or take an alternate route.  Quite a canyon.  More photos to come!  

Shakes Lake reflection. Shakes Glacier on the left. Castle Creek valley leading to Castle Mountain on the right.  

I love this hillslope.  There is so much texture and color in the dramatic ramp to the sky.  

Bob indulged my tourist impulse and we took a detour to visit the face of the Shakes Glacier.  The glacier face seems to be a couple thousand feet farther up the valley than 2009.  The linked photo was taken above the present day terminus.  

I alternately love and despise the manner in which vegetation tenaciously clings to the terrain shaped by glacier as it strives to turn the once white valley green soon after a glacier disappears.  

This is the stream that we would attempt to follow into the alpine.

Another view of the stream with a little berg.  Here's the winter version.  

As we started from the lake we would follow the streams as much as possible but unfortunately the water was too high in most places and would force us into the lovely despicably lush rain forest vegetation.  

Green Death.  An appropriate term that Bob coined.

Visitors of Shakes Lake will recognize this rock slab and the cascade that tumbles down its smooth slope.  

The Indian Paintbrush and Chocolate Lilies (not shown) were at their peak in the lower portions of the valley.  The blueberries started to ripen between our ascent and descent which I suspect is very early for this valley.  

"Bob, you'll have two seconds between when I push the button and when the shutter..."  CLICK.  

Take two.  Some wannabe photographer was messing with the hand-held remote settings.  The perpetrator of the misdeed (perhaps included in the photo) will remain nameless.  

What is not pictured between this photo and the previous one is all the green stuff we fought our way through.  Climbing this slick little wet feature with 70 lb packs was a relief after the jungle.  If that wasn't bad enough there was so much willow or cottonwood fluff in the air that I was in one big continuous coughing fit until I reached this fresh air and gulped some cold mountain water.


Thankfully, the water level wasn't as high as it sometimes is.  There was some smooth "dry" rock that we cautiously make our way up with the assistance of alder and willow.


When we finally got to the top of the long Cascade we tried to find a reasonable crossing spot but couldn't find any.  We finally elected to use this location.  I crossed first and then Bob delicately tossed (is that possible?) the two 70lb awkward packs across the torrent while balancing bare foot on slick rocks.  And of course I received them while standing in rushing water that was just short of knee deep (but much deeper below the boulders I was straddling.  No equipment was lost, although one pack and one person got a little more damp than we had intended.  It was still a lot more fun than...


Green Death.  I actually took this picture because I thought it represented about 50 feet of really nice, easy walking.  Bob had stumbled upon a bear trail that led in the direction that we were going and even better, only ferns blocked our path.  Now that I look at the picture I took, I am thankful that I have diligently worked to forget the terrors of the difficult sections.  I wish I would have taken a photo of Bob's legs and arms (or mine) when we finally emerged from the tangles.  We both wore shorts and t-shirts because of the extreme heat (must have been in the 60's) and there wasn't much flesh that wasn't scratch or torn by salmonberry, rock, salmonberry, alder, salmonberry, devil's club, salmonberry, and more salmonberry.


When I spotted an opening through the brush that led to this rock face I let out a howl of joy mixed with a little pain as I pushed my way through an extra thick salmonberry patch.  As soon as I stepped onto the rock I bent down and kissed it.  Yeah, yeah, I know that National Kissing Day wasn't until the 24th, but it seemed like an appropriate expression of gratitude.  As I layed my lips on the smooth stone I heard Bob burst into laughter.  After he contained himself he said, "I was going to do the EXACT same thing."  And he promptly did, but unfortunately he wouldn't allow me to capture his amorous expression.  It's probably due to my inability to meet his high model fee demands.


The wonderful rock slab led like a highway through any Green Death that may hamper our upward progress.  On the other side of long slab was this lovely cascade emanating from the valley we planned to hike.


Stream crossing with Shakes Lake far below.


As we were hiking up a ptarmigan flushed about one foot in front of where I was placing my foot.  I didn't even see it until it flew a few feet over to the side.  Based on her behavior I instantly knew that she was on a nest.  Since the patch of vegetation was only a few feet by a few feet finding the nest would be easy.  I looked through it once and couldn't see anything and Bob made a comment that there must not be a nest there.  My eyes believed him but it seemed like there had to be a nest somewhere since the ptarmigan was still next to us, trying to get our attention.  I bent down and moved some small bushes around and finally spotted these two eggs about a foot away from me.  Wow!  These were extremely well hidden.


The Green Death had sapped a considerable amount of our energy and we were already over 3000 feet above where we had begun so we decided that it was the perfect spot of a camp.  This was the only "flat" ground anywhere around.  With a little ingenuity we converted a goat bed into a tent pad.


I'm not sure if the goats appreciated our camp location.  They were on an unseen portion of the mountain until a few hours after we had set up camp, but when the two, and then a third (pictured above) goat emerged they seemed remarkably calm around us and it seemed like they were trying to determine which one would get the thick sleeping pad.


The near goat wants to get to the other side of the couloir (deep and vertical) to join his buddy. What is a goat to do?


Simple.  Just walk down the cliff.


Every time someone calls me a mountain goat I think "NO WAY!  Those critters are crazy."  This one reminded me of that Marsha Peak goat I saw a few years ago.  Well, maybe not, that goat was at another level of crazy.


Camp 1.  Bob and I both like to sleep under the stars when possible (In SE AK, sleeping under the clouds is much more prevalent).  The bugs drove us into the screen where we slept for a few hours until it started to rain.  The rain fly was already set up and all we had to do was pull it over the tent and we could wander back into dreamland.


Eventually I drug myself out of the tent between rain squalls and took a few pictures.  Thankfully the ceiling was high and we could see our route toward the top of the mountain.


It was a long slog through wet snow but we finally made it to the top of the windy, cold ridge.  Seeking shelter, we managed to find a relatively flat spot next to a nice little bouldering wall. After about a half hour of snow leveling and, tent pad customization we set up the tent and started to make the rest of the camp comfortable.


Here is the view in the opposite direction.  The silver thread is Castle Creek emerging from the base of Castle Mountain.


With limited visibility in the higher elevations we decided to climb the knob we were camped on and then wander down the ridge that Bob seems to be pointing toward.  That is Shakes Lake below at roughly 30 or 40 feet in elevation.  Our camp was a little over 4700 feet and the peak was officially 4989, but GPS's were showing 5000+ on top of the snow at the peak.


A view of upper Shakes Glacier in the distance emerged as we crested the ridge.


Climbing back up to camp.


I've warned you that Castle Mountain is going to be theme in this trip.  Here's another photo - actually several photos stitched, hence a little different (deeper) perspective that the other's you'll be seeing... if you don't get bored.  I like the cloud cap over the little peak on the right.


Castle SE breaks out of the clouds while the main peak remains shrouded.


There it is!  I figured that it was a very good weather sign that we could see the peak on the day that was forecasted to bring the poorest weather.


This panorama of the mountains on the south side of the Stikine made me think of my Swiss photographer friend Hombi.  He's got some incredible aerial panoramas and it would have been nice to employ those techniques here. Just need that supercub!


Another alpenglow photo of a mountain on the south side of the Stikine.


Shakes Glacier.


It cleared up enough for me to see the original trip target.  Devil's Thumb, Cat's Ears Spires, and those two other granite peaks.


Although clouds blocked the sunrise the following day, we could tell it would be a nice day.  We decided to head south toward an alpine lake and check out the feasibility of traversing around to other potential routes that where we had staged the paddlecraft.  Here I decided to give my fisheye lens a workout.


Head waters of Alpine Creek.  Alpine Creek makes up the eastern boundary of the group of mountains that we were wandering around in.


View of the mountain with alpenglow last night.


Camp 2.


Alpine Creek valley.  There must be some moose down there somewhere.  Check out those great looking gravel bars!


Nothing like a pan sized pool of water on an ice chilled rock.


Shakes Lake shoreline.


In a world of rock and ice an intruder (mountain hemlock) emerges from a crack in the rock.


After much searching, we finally found a spot with a decent view suitable for a lunch stop.


And a siesta.


Shakes Lake.


There were many great looking clean, bouldering opportunities dotting the landscape in the alpine.


Climbing down a ridge toward an alpine lake.


After arriving at the lake Bob walked to the edge of the "flat" land to get a glimpse of the world below the cliffs.


I wanted to dangle my legs over the edge of the boulder but the rock seemed to be balanced rather precariously.  I'm sure it must be solidly in place but I'll let someone else do it first. Where are those goats when you need them?  Speaking of precarious.  I would like to be high up above the lake when that roof/rock on the other side of the lake drops into the lake.  There is going to be one very spectacular wave.  Who knows, it may even clear out the brush all the way to Shakes Lake.


This lake forms the headwaters of the first stream along which we hiked and eventually had to cross.  Bob talked about his desire to bring his pack raft up to the lake and paddle around.  It sure would have made a pretty scene.


A little Alaska Charters and Adventures publicity.  (Bob's employer and some wonderful people.)


Climbing back up toward the ridge that will take us back to camp.  More nice clean (by SE AK standards) rock.


Checking out the Alpine Creek valley again.  We knew those moose were down there somewhere.


"Bob, kick the snow."  Thanks Bob!






"Bob, walk toward that little rise."  Thanks again Bob.


Kates Needle finally emerged from the clouds as we were walking back.


Kates Needle closeup.  I recently read Fred Beckey's 1946 first ascent account in the American Alpine Journal.  After starting from the Flood Glacier on July 9th they had a similar refrain during their low elevation bushwack:  "With the hope of avoiding excessive brush travel, we attempted to reach the moraine by the N. side of the Flood River. But after half a mile we became entangled in bad thickets, and we were forced off our course by a river fork. Devil’s club and slide alder made the heavy back-packing relays very difficult and slow, and the never-satisfied mosquitoes were almost unbearable. Heavy rain, the plague of the Coast Range, added no little to our troubles."  The initial trip was interrupted but he would eventually summit the peak on August 24th on a day so clear that they could see Mount Fairweather and Crillon over 200 miles away.


I teased Bob that he should hike up to this lake and paddle around.  It was just a wee bit inaccessible.

Coming back from our little 7 mile hike plus a couple detours.

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Back to camp.


Sitting in my "chair" admiring the scenery after a nice long hike.


I love this spot!  The fisheye lens came in handy.  The prior photo actually used the fisheye as well.


After a meal, Bob jumped into a sleeping bag to warm up his feet while I wandered around and watched the clouds come in, seemingly intent on ruining our opportunity to view the sunset.


Looking South toward Shakes Lake.


Unfortunately the the clouds came in and eventually enveloped us.


After about 15 minutes the clouds started showing signs of disappearing.






I decided it was time to call Bob out of his sleeping bag so he could enjoy the sunset as well.


The mist continued to clear and we ended up with a lovely sunset.  For example:


A favorite.  Actually a multiframe panorama.  Which means I could print it large if I find the right spot for it.




Devil's Thumb and the Cat's Ears even got into the act.


I set an alarm to wake early the next morning (3:30am) but we had some fog initially that blocked the sunrise colors.  It began to clear up as the sun rose higher.  This photo features Castle Mountain.  Again.  By my count Castle has been prominently featured in 12 photos thus far and 14 total.  If that seems like a lot, you are actually fortunate.  I have over 3000 Castle Mountain photos from this trip.  Granted most of them are for time lapse or high detail panoramas for potential future climbing endeavors, but that still seems like a lot.


Soaking up with warmth.


We decided to hike toward Castle SE on this fine day.  The mountain to the right of Castle Mountain.


The good 'ol butt glissade.


Our camp is located on the opposite side of the rock knob on the far left of the frame.


Bob's favorite critter, the wolverine (Go Maize and Blue!) came up from the Castle Creek drainage, over this ridge and into the Alpine Creek drainage, during which it negotiated an abundant amount of airy terrain.


It was HOT!  And I felt like I was burning up.  That will teach me to buy fresh sunscreen more often.


Castle Creek Valley and Mountain panorama.  Here is the wintertime view of the valley and mountain.


"Bob, grab your mountaineering axe."  Thanks Bob!


We lounged around for a good part of the day, enjoying the tremendous scenery and getting deep frying our skin in old sunscreen.  It was finally time to head back, pack up camp and start heading down the mountain.  A chore that I wasn't eager to start, especially considering the incredible weather we were enjoying - sunburns notwithstanding.


Shakes Lake and my favorite little mountainside.


Fisheye view toward the South.


Sunhat!  Relief at last.


Departure.  It's always a bit melancholy for me when leaving an idyllic setting like this.


It was steep and the snow was soft.  We ended up pushing accumulating masses of snow down the mountain as we slid but they stopped when we stopped.


This was the zone of no photographs when we were hiking up.


Showing off some glissade style!


Looking back up the valley we enjoyed from above for the past few days.


Looking down at that awful Green Death that kept getting closer as we descended.


Perfect spot for a meal.  There were some nearby pools that were warmed by the sun that made a good place to take a well needed bath.  We decided to call it a night here.  All we needed was some flat dry ground.  It took some searching but we finally found a couple spots that were flat enough.


Not bad.  Although we did have to go inside our sleeping bags and keep the head net/bug shirt on due to the insect population.  It stayed surprisingly warm all night long. I noticed that the depression that represented my "flat" spot had become a swimming pool when I woke up.  I'm amazed that my bag and I weren't soaked through.


As I let some of my gear dry, I wandered back to the Cascade for some morning photos.


Camp 3.


Traversing the sloping slab.  I would not want to do this when it was wet.


From up above, we conceived an alternative plan of attacking the Green Death.


Bob's hand reaches up as the remainder of his body is swallowed by Green Death.  Moments later, he was completely engulfed.




Our reconnaissance paid off.  We had selected a much easier and shorter route through the nasty stuff.

Going down through the brush is always much easier than going up because as the brush grows it angles downhill.


I had a mouse wandering around by my feet for a few seconds as I was taking photos among these rocks.  A brave little guy.




Eventually emerged onto the lower slab with only a short section of green separating us from the boat.






At last the beach, a boat, ice cold beverages, and bugspray!  Bob learned a painful lesson that bugspray on scratched legs make a poor combination.




Good bye Castle Creek and Mountain.  Hope to see you again soon!


While picking up our stashed canoe, we decided to hike up and see whether it was a feasible route.


Our high point for the day.  For some reason I didn't take a photo looking up the valley from this point.  It looked reasonable as far as we could see and we probably would have gone farther had the snow not been much harder than we expected - ice really.  Or maybe we should have just grabbed our crampons instead of leaving them down at the boat.


Debris covered the top of the ice.  When inside the cave, I noticed another debris line near the bottom of the cave.  I wonder if the debris lines represent the changing seasons like tree rings or small avalanche or slide events.


I think it was my stomach that was growling in this cave.


Monkey flowers.


We stopped by Farm Island to impose on the hospitality of Brenda (that's her on her boat, the Wildside) and John.


It just so happened that Brenda's daughter was about to get married the following day.


I loved the tables constructed for the event.  Especially the green sprig still growing from the cross brace.


Here lie two pigs, smoking.  At this point in time I started to drool and wished that I hadn't made arrangements and promises to be home on the morrow.


I did fix a nice big pork sandwich though!  Delicious!


This was a very cool heart shaped raised bed, planted specifically for the wedding event.


Covered seating.


What a beautiful setting.


The groom's step dad hauls ice for the canoe cooler.  Unfortunately we did have to leave, but it was nice to spend an hour or so with some great folks as they prepared what looked like a great wedding.  Thank you again for the hospitality John, Brenda, Emily and Mike!


An old Wrangell friend's place on Farm Island.


Bob bought 5.5 acres on Farm Island and is enhancing his river life by constructing an 8' x 12' cabin along the banks of the Stikine.


Walking the property line.  We stopped briefly to pull a game camera.  A few moose were kind enough to pose.


Back in the Harbor.  Another grand adventure with Bob Lippert complete.  Thanks again Bob for adding a little excitement into my sedentary life.

Well, I guess the adventure wasn't completely over.  As I wandered around town talking with old friends Jamie invited me to to go along with her husband Greg to see if we could find a fish the next morning.  I did manage to find one.

Thank you Greg!