Since then, the trailhead had been relocatted from a dead-end forest service road to a proper parking lot. I woke early and hit the road at 6am and pulled into the parking lot at 8. There were already a few cars in the lot and three were pulling in at the same time I was. I couldn't recall seeing other people at trailheads before (except at crowded Tiger Mountain) and wondered if I'd have company out on the trail. But the parking lot is a shared one, being also the starting point of the Mt. Dickerman trail. As it turned out, of all the folks in the lot, I was the only one who was taking the Perry Creek trail. I talked a little with a solo hiker who was heading up Dickerman as a training hike for a climb of Mt. Adams, and I was off.
The relocating of the trailhead adds 1.2 miles to the hike I did a few years back, and I was to really rue this fact on my way back to the car 6 hours later. The trail has two distinct halves. The first is the 3.2 mile hike to Perry Creek falls. This portion is rather tame with not much elevation gain and great views of thin waterfalls on the oposite mountainsides and insubstantial trickling streams to rock-hop across. It's mostly open-air with lots of greenery, rocks and boulders, and the soft hissing of the distant waterfalls. As you near Perry Creek falls, a louder rush of water emerges. The falls are by no means large, but the loud rushing of water down the steep canyon is rather thrilling. Just above the falls is a shallow area which must be crossed to pick up the trail. I recall being able to cross this without issue before, but now, in early summer with the volume a bit higher, crossing was going to be a challenge. I wasn't sure if my boots were waterproof and so I took off my shoes and socks to walk across. (Waterproof shoes wouldn't have mattered anyway, since the water came up to my knees at one point) Now, this water was snow just minutes before reaching this point so the water was cold. Painfully, debilitatingly cold. I had to stop on a piece of rocky grouind halfway across to let the feeling come back into my feet before continuing. Then, I sat on a wide log on the opposite side and dried my feet in the sun before replacing shoes and socks and going on.
The second half of the trail is the steep haul to the meadows and the top of Mt. Forgotten. This begins immediately after crossing the creek as you plunge into deep forest, picking up a couple thousand feet of elevation in switchbacks and steep rocky climbs. I started taking frequent breaks, which is not a good sign for me, and tried to rationalize quitting before reaching the meadows. But when I came across the first tiny snowpatch my spirits were somewhat rejuvinated because I knew I must be close. Soon I came to a true snowline, above which was only snow. The snow was crusty and not too thick, which I found out when my foot slipped through the surface a few times). To reach the meadows, I had about 50 yards uphill on crusty, icy snow without crampons. I managed to fall only twice (swearing loudly both times), but it was quite a workout to get to the plateau. I should mention that I had been REALLY looking forward to finding a nice patch of shaded grass with a rock or log on which to rest for a half-hour or so while enjoying a well-deserved lunch, but all I found on the plateau was snow - and only one small patch of shade where I stood and unceremoniously wolfed down my sandwich before resolutely heading back through the snowfield.
On the positive side, this time the views were mighty impressive, and it is undoubtedly cool to be standing high up on a mountain in a snowfield wearing sunglasses, a t-shirt and shorts, and being surrounded by snowy peaks. It really was worth the climb, although I wasn't feeling it completely at the time. I had planned on continuing to the top of Mt. Forgotten, which is another steep scramble through snow, but as I was crossing the snowfield I realized that this was not happening. I plan on coming back in late summer to do the whole thing when the snow will be completely gone and in its place will be rolling meadows of such prettiness, carpeted in colorful wildflowers and dotted here and there with pristine little ponds.
But for now, my goal was the car....
The walk down the snowy hillside was easier than the ascent, although somewhat harder to keep my direction (I had to keep a certain portion of the view on my right to make sure I was going the right way). After the snow I stopped to shake the ice out of my shoes, change my soaked socks, and headed down. The rest of the trip down was not too eventful, although I did pass 10 people in several hiking parties, and stopped to chat with a father and daughter on the lower side of the falls. He wanted to know about the rest of the trail and was surprised to hear that the trail got steeper after the creek (he didn't even know that he had to cross the creek and his daughter was wearing only flip-flops on her feet - way to research your hike, dad). Oh, on my own re-crossing of the creek, I simply left my shoes and socks on and trudged through the water. I squished a bit after that but I really didn't care - I was on my way to level ground, a seated position in the car and, eventually, home. I found myself a little short on water and was a bit dehydrated to go along with my various aches and pains as I stumbled along that last 1.2 miles of trail to the car. I had a bottle of water waiting at the car but it was hot. It felt like guzzling tea but I was so damned thirsty that it didn't matter.
Here are some pics:
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