In early October, 2025, a couple of friends and I took an adventure day in the area of Mt. Pilchuck. Earlier last spring, I had climbed most of bəlalgʷəʔ before encountering snow. On the way up, I’d seen down into one of the steep draws and seen a small lake. My friend, hiking with me, commented that it was Lake Heather, and that she had made that hike with her family many years ago. The trip is about 6 miles in total, with 1,200′ of elevation gain on generally gradual terrain. I read up on the description on Washington Trail Association, and noted the warning of primitive trial through some large root systems and cascading hillside seeps. There were old growth trees a few miles up the trail, with second growth forests, and water features along the way. The trail would then circle around the lake, allowing 360 views of the mountain and ridges above. I looked forward to viewing the hike to the peak above, after viewing down to the lake where I would soon be. Perspectives like this give a glimpse of scale, and I appreciate the vast wilderness still available no more than a few hours from my front door.
As we began from the generous parking area, complete with state park facilities (compost toilets). A well marked trailhead, located across the street, held the common advisory board, including trail map and any hazard warnings. Things looked good, and we began our trek on a well graveled, recently upgraded first mile of the hike, enjoying new gradual steps on steep rises along the mountainside. The new gravel led us into a false sense of security, making the road easy and neat as we ascended. Then, quite suddenly, the trail maintenance ended, and an epic climb truly began. It’s not that dramatic, just suprising to be in a scoured landscape, where a canopy of forest remained, but the ground was mostly gravel, roots, and some active water moving down the slope.
It’s hard to fully capture what the trail eventually devolved into, but we managed to follow it, and, short of a few 3 foot lifts to get from one level of a drop to another, we had a relatively pleasant climb into beautiful intact groves of forest that were truly enchanting. There was a stark difference between the lower part of the trail and the upper. Some areas seemed scoured, and the group hypothesized about what might be going on. There were endless exposed roots all over the hillside on one part of the climb, far beyond what you might see on an overused trail needing repair. The restoration of well loved trails is a continuing process, with higher elevations becoming primitive in some places through continual use and nature’s entropy. One theory we all enjoyed was a flood of water from the lake out-pour. Water could easily create this scouring effect down the hillside. You’ll see some moss, but with all the ambient light, plants should take hold, but the lack of soil prevent rooting. The trees have taken desperate hold in areas once clearcut. Further up the trail we would encounter a much more lush environment where soils remained and more level terrain allowed topsoil to establish, even with frequent flooding.
In the picture below, a second growth cedar lays down hill on a slope where scouring has occurred. Roots lay bare, branched from windfall scatter the ground in seemingly arranged piles all facing the same direction. Following the downhill flow of flooding, the ground cover sweeps in the flow that still trickled down the peak, creating cascades of small waterfalls and flowing lines, directed by solid rock foundations of a long extinct volcanic magma chamber. Millions of years cultivated an old growth forest, ranging from temperate rainforest at the base, to sub-alpine spruce stands along the alpine lake, skirting scree piles laid down by uplift, fault shifts, and the dynamic landscape of The Pacific Northwest.
The shift from slope to generally even ground signaled the formation of wetlands. The lake’s outflow was a vast delta of forest, willow edges, and transition from cedar to spruce. The older trees were not so large, having to navigate high winds coming up the slope, or pressing down off the peaks in a northern gale. Fallen giants lay as testament to the storms that form off the towering ridge lines above. The weather that day had foretasted breezes, and that means gusts of 30mph or more, which would be adventuresome on this trail, in this ecology. We had entertained canceling the hike, but the forecast shifted to milder calm transition, so we went for it and lucked out with mostly dry hiking and only one brief downpour. The sun managed to flash a few times, and clouds held off long enough for us to get a few photos of the towering ridge lines supporting bəlalgʷəʔ ‘s out of sight peak, several thousand feet above.
The trail loops around the lake, on a well constructed boardwalk in stretches that cross the wetlands. The south side of the lake hosts some impressive boulders, craggy enough to have fallen from above in the last few thousand years. Glacial erratics will usually have obvious rounding in places from the ice that carried them along and shaped the whole region of Puget Sound. River rock around here was still impacted by ice about 10,000 years ago. That’s when the last ice sheets from the north retreated. bəlalgʷəʔ was already formed by tectonic uplift, and millions of years before that, it was an active volcano in a shallow sea archipelago, or so one theory goes. I love picturing all this change as I walk through, understanding why the layers of rock are here, how they were shaped, why there is a wetland, and how continued flooding has scoured the current slope down from the lake and valley above. This drainage basin gets clogged by flooding down steep slopes of rock, the lake’s wetlands sponge up as much as they can, but the running rivulets spill over the confines of the shallow plateau. Mountain torrents are not uncommon, and to see the evidence of this erosion chaos on the mountainside signaled the dangerous potential for hikers ill-informed about the mountain’s conditions.
On our way around the lake, we also found some nice mushrooms. I’m always on the lookout for some edible delights in the mountains during The Mushroom Spring. Our group hunted passively, but still managed to spot enough boletes to fill a couple of zip locks. That’s some good eating to take home. Spruce forests yield boletes, specifically porcine on this hike. It was a pleasure to group find and then send one runner (me) over to harvest. They were prominent around the established camping areas, through at this time of year, no tents were present. The mushrooms added a little extra flavor to our hike, and there were some https://lnt.org/good observations about a number of other fungal friends we encountered along the way. We were harvesting near the trail, which is important to remember when you are in a high impact area. Please try not to go far into the un-tread areas of the woods if there is a clear trail, especially in more remote areas with established ground cover or wetlands. Your tracks into the deeper wilds will soon lead others, until there is a new established trail cutting open the last habitat structures for our beloved wilderness. Trails and access is planned, constructed, and well marked to keep us off the sensitive terrain, and to allow wildlife some space. It’s another reason leashes are encouraged, so our pets don’t stress wildlife or disrupt habitat with scent, which deters wildlife. We are guests in nature, and when we are good guests, nature remains intact and enjoyable to visit, when we are bad guests, trash collects, latrine abuse abounds, and trails sometimes close all together.
Our original plan had been to hike to Lake 22, next-door to Heather Lake, in the neighboring plateau, but it was closed for maintenance through the week, and we had to change destinations. I’m glad there is funding and labor to fix these trails. There had been massive reconstruction of the lower part of our trail earlier in the summer, and that hard work was evident in the smooth hiking for about a mile at the start. This mountain is becoming a very popular daytime destination for folks living in the greater North Seattle area. As development continues to boom in the surrounding towns, the nearby ecology will have to bare this influx of outdoor enthusiasts hoping to get a little R&R in their backyard wilderness. That’s why I live in Western Washington, just close enough to Seattle for the airport and economic boon, but also far enough away to be within an hour of most local hiking and wilderness adventure spots- enough to keep me busy in nature connection and learning most of the year. To continue that enjoyment, and the access, we all have to do our part in being good guests in the landscape, and mindful of how and when we recreate to avoid overtaxing the precious natural world we wish to explore and be in.
Gratitude for the opportunities to share outdoor adventures with friends. To the weather that day being agreeable, trail approachable, and our safe accent and decent. Thanks to the nature all around us, the beauty of a growing and ever changing world, and our place in it. Joy in finding wild food, mushroom abundance, and friends to share it with. The Northwest continues to be home, teacher, adventure, and cultivated community, what a life!
EEC Forest Stewardship 