It’s the late summer of 2002—nearly a year out from 9/11. And for me, it’s about the last thing on my mind that summer.
I spent 2002 chasing hiking dreams with my then 4-year-old son (my oldest, Ford). With his long legs, he was turning into a hiking machine. Long hikes that summer had become normal for us. I was finally where I had dreamed of being: hiking 2 to 3 days a week, and he was with me always. I was working just enough to pay the bills and the rest, fueling my hobby.
I had a guidebook for the North Cascades, written by Mike Mcquaide, which he had published the year before. My signed copy rode in my backpack on every hike. I had attended an author night at a library in Skagit County to get his book signed.
I aimed to do every hike in the book—all 55. I got close that year. Then, I met Kirk in the fall of 2002, and by the next year, I was hiking nonstop around Mount Rainier. With the North Cascades mostly forgotten for awhile.
But I digress, let’s go wander down memory lane.
It’s a Friday, which is prime hiking time in the subalpine. Ford and I got up early, drove off Whidbey Island, took Hwy 20 to Sedro Wooley, then onto Hwy 9 up to Hwy 542 (Mt. Baker Highway), and headed to the mountains. This was our normal weekend: go north to Baker one day, Olympic Peninsula the next day, and maybe Hwy 20 mountain hiking the third. I didn’t need sleep; I was in my late 20s. Ford would pass out and nap in the Ford Explorer.
We turned onto FS 3065 and drove the road till we got to Tommyhoi/Yellow Aster Butte trailhead. This final switchback was where most people left their cars behind. The road beyond was a mine-to-market road with 6 steep and short switchbacks. Some people would show up on dirt bikes and ride it, but cars were rare to see up there – at least then. It was a great hike, though; the lower section went fast. Some people would drive up there because at Twin Lakes (end of the road) was free camping between the 2 subalpine lakes. The trail to Winchester Mountain started at the lakes, as did a couple of other trails (and yes, that mine-to-market road existed as there was an old mining inholding past the lakes).
But the real thing was you could, in theory, walk to Canada from here.
We parked at the lower green. Twin Lakes (shown with snow on Google Maps) is in the center, with a green marker. Winchester Mountain is to the left, with its lookout cabin (it blends in even when zoomed in, but it is there – it has an amazing view from the open air privy, of the peaks and the lake below).
We had an easy hike up and got onto the Winchester trail.
Looking down at Twin Lakes and a few cars/bikes that had come up. The road continues to the left, above the lake, then becomes a trail. You are just a number of miles from the border here.
On top, a US flag stood.
At the Winchester Lookout, Ford would turn five within a month of this trip. He’ll turn 27 in a couple of weeks.
Looking right into Canada, ay. Or, well, behind us.
So, at the time, the Green Trails maps of the North Cascade mountains had all the trails on them. It turned out the federal government was “encouraging” map companies to remove those trails from the maps. This was right before Homeland Security was created (officially that fall), and they were “securing the borders.”
As we headed down the trail and passed Twin Lakes, the sun settled into the peaks. Ford was tired but holding up since he knew it was all downhill.
I could hear a large vehicle coming up the switchbacks. And smell the hot engine.
It was a large black SUV with fully tinted windows, bearing gov’t plates. The SUV was so long it had to go back into the corners to make every turn on the switchbacks.
It got to where we were, and a window rolled down to the most apparent duo of Fed Bois. Even in black suits. And sunglasses.
Who then started interrogating me about why I was on a public road/trail.
They looked like they were right out of the Border Patrol office and didn’t like they got sent up to do actual hard driving.
I looked at them and replied, “I am hiking. What else would I be doing out here?” And then just started walking away, down the hill.
Ask a stupid question, get a stupid answer has always been my policy. I wasn’t even walking toward Canada. I am guessing they hoped I’d reply that I was looking for a Timmy’s to get a latte at. Lol. I would hopefully out myself as a Canadian on an illicit long-distance hike.
As a US citizen, even at 29, I knew they had no legal right to question me. If I was that scary, they’d have come after me.
The only issues on the trails were Grizzly bears hiding out from the man for years and an occasional weed smuggler. Terrorists were not out hiking long, sweaty miles, crossing creeks and rivers to get to Mount Baker.
We had a pleasant hike out, with the sound of their engine finally disappearing far above me. Ford was tired. I got him a drink from the cooler, and he hopped in. I wasn’t even on the highway, and he was sleeping.
I’ve wondered a few times if they pestered every hiker that day. And I am sure many chattered back at them. It was a strange world those years. And yes, the past few years have reminded me sharply of that summer afternoon. So long ago.
Tomorrow, I will also ponder my life 23 years ago and remember how scared we all were for that short time period. And to that, it’s time to ge hiking.
~Sarah