By Jack McLeod, guest blogger
I recently took the Spirit of Place writing workshop at the Learning Center with Nick O’Conell. Here’s my story from that workshop about a trip to Sahale Glacier. This is the third program I’ve participated in at the Institute and they’ve all been wonderful — so thank you!

My tent shook violently. Straining its granite-bound guy lines, I was afraid it would release and pirouette like a wayward balloon to the valley 3,000’ below. An arc of stones only partly protected me from the midnight river of air as the tempest commanded our miniature snowbound island.
We had hiked to the realm of skydivers and found our rocky outpost was directly in the channel of atmospheric winds traveling from one side of Washington to the other. I’d waited 6 months for this date, a dark moonless night in the mountains and perfect venue for the annual Perseid Meteor Shower. But atmospheric forces make the ultimate decision around here and they threatened to blow us off the mountain. In the spirit of a long-ago boss’s mantra “we don’t have problems, we have challengesâ€, the question became could we turn nature’s uncontrollable forces into our hoped-for glorious experience?
The three of us intended to camp just below flower-covered Cascade Pass, an easy four-mile hike. Bob had minor backpacking experience, Brandon had none so we chose that site for its beauty and easy access. The ranger made sure we had the required bear canister to protect our food – and us. “You don’t want anything smelling of food, including your skin, pack, tent or clothes.†Ah, we thought, just why we went camping in the woods – to have meticulous hygiene. She also told us the forested, creek-side camp we planned to stay at for two nights was full. But there were still sites available at Sahale Glacier. What’s a couple more miles and a couple more thousand feet of climbing with a full pack? And no trees or tumbling stream. Camped next to ice. In August. We had come to get away from it all so the ranger’s only campsite choice became a perverse type of trip insurance. Little did we know how this change in locale would change everything about our experience.
The hike to the pass was uneventful – no slabs of ice came crashing down from cliff-hanging glaciers 2,000 feet above on Mt. Johannesburg – all the guidebooks mention this as a possibility. The route to our newly designated camp led across Sahale Arm, high above an ancient trade route between western and eastern Washington and on this day deep in blue and white candles of lupine and bistort. Indigenous travelers and traders crossed this pass between the lush, green forests of the Skagit River valley and the dry plains of the Columbia Plateau. A nearby archaeological site was dated to 9,600 years ago. Stone tool fragments were found but no signs of plastic bear canisters or 4 ounce isobutane stoves.

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