Goat Lake and Snowgrass Flats
Goat Rocks Wilderness - South Cascades
Round trip: 12+ miles
Highest pt: 6,600 ft
Hiked in: Friday, August 23, 2019
Mountain goats, marmots, and monumental mountains – oh my! Okay, I had to get that awful alliteration out of the way before it consumed me.
But for real, this trail really checks all the boxes on an outdoor enthusiast’s list: wildlife, waterfalls, wildflowers… Ah damn it, I did it again ;)
Dubbed as one of the most popular routes in the South Cascades, or all of Washington for that matter (I might be exaggerating), Goat Lake Loop is one of the few high-trafficked trails that doesn’t require a reservation made months in advance – for now. It’s a convergence of casual backpackers, avid trail runners, and determined thru-hikers battling the last daunting stretch of the Pacific Crest Trail. If it weren’t for the fact that Goat Rocks Wilderness is a fricken drop-dead gorgeous area filled with blossoming basins and striking volcanic peaks, I’d usually be deterred by the inevitable swarms of people.
We made our way south to Packwood via Skate Creek early Friday morning, reached the Snowgrass Flats trailhead at 10:30, and headed for the trail 15 minutes later. Our plan was to do a clockwise loop, starting at Berry Patch and making our way up, up, and up to Goat Lake within 4 miles.
Except there was one issue: we were at the wrong trailhead – or so we thought.
Berry Patch Trailhead was a half mile away, and without knowing there was a small connecting route to the west (the map at the Snowgrass Flats trailhead was significantly faded and deceiving), we hit the dusty forest road with our packs on our backs and started again. Maybe everyone driving past us on the road would think we were just super cool PCT hikers instead of a thoroughly confused pair of backpackers.
Finally, with renewed confidence, we began our trek.
Our journey started quickly by ascending the Goat Ridge Trail (#95). The higher we climbed, the sparser the tree line became, until the pointy peaks of Goat Ridge and Hawkeye Peak came looming into view. Below our trail, Jordan Basin popped with red Indian paintbrushes and purple daisies as the terrain plummeted into the bright green expanse of the valley. Farther on the horizon, Mt. St. Helens made an appearance as we scrambled up the rocky ridge.
The dry and barren landscape was brutal as the sun scorched my under-prepared skin. Yeah, I’ll regret this… I could see the top of the ridge; we had to be so close. I begged the higher powers that be for Goat Lake to be just over the crest. A stream trickled down the rocks – I could feel the proximity of the lake. I heaved my body to the top of the hill and gazed upward: another towering ridge. My heart sank as I watched a line of ant-sized backpackers zig-zag up the switchbacks above us.
With our blinders on, we continued upward. After cresting Goat Ridge, we were met with a fork in the trail. Straight forward and directly up a scramble was Hawkeye Peak. To the right was a trail that meandered across a hillside painted with wildflowers: Lily Basin. What a breath of fresh air. Mt. Adams stayed close behind as we lazily followed the path around a bend. At last, the unreal teal water of Goat Lake came into view below.
Our eyes spied the perfect camping spot along the shore.
“I think it has a private beach,” Cody smirked, and we raced down the gravelly rocks to claim our new home. Once camp was set up (our tent almost flew directly into the lake only once), we lay by the water and sipped our celebratory “sodas.” We ate dinner while the clouds rolled in, loaded up on extra cozy layers, and watched Mount Adams fade into the night from our tent.
The next morning we woke up early before the sun could bake us alive.
After debating whether or not to stay another night at our sweet new digs, we decided to pack up once we had breakfast to see what we could find at Snowgrass Flats. After all, there were a couple of other fellow backpackers we were hoping to meet up with along the way. Cody’s dad, Larry, and his hiking buddy, also named Larry, were trekking in the opposite direction on the loop. If we were lucky, we would find them at the flats. But first we had to figure out how the heck to even get there.
We took a couple of wrong turns, but a solo female backpacker clued us in on the right trails to take. Once we got to the junction of Snowgrass Flats Trail, we took a hard left and made our way (way) up. I don’t know why I told myself it would all be downhill from the lake, but that…was a lie.
So worth it, of course, as soon as I saw what Snowgrass Flats had to offer: more sweeping views of Mt. Adams in your face and crumbling volcanic cliffs the color of rainbow sherbet.
Finally, we stumbled across the Larrys on their way up the trail in search of a campsite. Teamed up, we scouted out more spots and Cody found the winner, perched above the valley with layers of mountains to the front and ancient Old Snowy towering in the back. We thought we saw a cave in the rock fields behind us and decided to wander closer. It was only a small shadow from an overhanging rock once we got there, but the views from above were breathtaking. Tired and sore, we wrapped up our night with some freeze-dried meals, including dessert. Raspberry crumble in the backcountry? Imagine that.
In the morning we packed up and slowly made our way back to Snowgrass Flats, passing Pacific Crest Trail thru-hikers along the way. With smaller and lighter packs on, they seemed to race up the mountain. My muscles began to cry just thinking about their journey.
Cody and I parted ways with the Larrys once we arrived at the junction. We followed our trail straight into the forest, but not before stocking up on some fresh and freezing spring water to inhale on our way back to the car. The remainder of the trail lead us downward through old-growth forests and alongside cascading waterfalls. Easy on the eyes — and the thighs, heheh.
And on that note, I’ll see myself out. Can’t believe you made it through another one! I thank you for sticking around.
What you’ll need:
Northwest Forest Pass
And a couple Larrys
