


From Concrete, we made our way up to Baker Lake. The lake is about nine miles long, running north to south. There’s a dam at the south end. In our current climate of national security paranoia, it was refreshing to see that we could actually drive out across the dam. The lake had already been lowered to handle the winter rains, so it was about 100 foot drop down the lake. On the outlet however, it was a long way down, with only a chain link fence to keep us back. We drove out across the dam and back, and then made our way to the put-in at Baker Lake Resort.

The resort consists of a camp ground and a store. When we pulled into the resort, a number of Puget Sound Energy employees (they run the resort and the dam at the end of the lake) were sitting down to lunch. Because the lake was so low, they suggested we scout the put-in before committing to leaving from there. We decided it was doable as long as we put in on the little creek running into the lake and floated out that way. After a little bit of our own lunch, we loaded up the canoe and paddled off. With the low lake level, we were able to look down through the water to see huge old growth stumps that were left behind after they logged the forest for the dam. The marvel of these stumps would be a theme for the rest of the weekend.
We paddled a short crossing to the eastern side of the lake, scouting for campsites along the way. The lake is in a valley between some pretty steep mountains, providing us with a picture postcard view of Mt. Baker to the west and Mt. Blum to the east. According to my GPS, we were only eight miles from the peak of Baker – so close we could pick out glacial features with the naked eye. The low lake level left behind plenty of rock (and stumpy) beach between the lake and the forest. The no-burning signs posted along the beach also signified potential campsites. We got out to scout a few sites, including a huge sandbar in a little cove where Noisy Creek runs out into the lake. Although an ideal spot in it’s own right, we kept moving north in search of the ultimate campsite. A little further down the lake we finally found our new home. We’re picky and didn’t want to camp in the woods (and lose the view of Mt. Baker), so we chose a nice patch of packed sand in the middle of a stump field. Ed suggested that maybe the stumps came alive at night and moved around, which added to the surreal setting in which we found ourselves. This is one of the most beautiful places I’ve been.

We woke with the sun at 7:00 next day and had breakfast consisting of coffee and instant oatmeal. Our plan for the day consisted of a hike along the eastern side of the lake to Maple Grove Camp. The 11 mile, round trip, hike would take us about halfway down the lake toward the dam. We took our lunch and a water bottle in my day pack and hit the trail. About a mile into our hike, we met a couple of runners on the trail. They told us they were in training for an upcoming 50K race around the lake. A few miles later, we met another group of runners doing the same. We apparently timed our weekend perfectly – imagine trying to navigate the trail with a race in progress. After wading through seemingly endless patches of wet overgrowth on the trail, we finally made it to Maple Grove Camp where we had a lunch of beef jerky, chunks of parmesan cheese and a little gorp for desert. We saw a group of kayakers out on the lake exploring a little island that is likely not there when the lake is up. After just a short break, we followed the trail back to our site on the north end of the lake. In total, our hike took about five hours.
Exhausted after our hike, we changed our socks, put on some sandals and brewed up a batch of coffee, Ibuprofin, and a can of Fosters. During our respite, a small plane flying up the lake, came over our site and tipped its wings at us. Luckily enough, I had my camera ready and got a few shots as the plane banked at the end of the lake and headed back south. The visit from the plane rekindled our adventurous spirit, so we suited up for a paddle to the mouth of the Baker River a short distance away from our camp. After paddling up the mouth of the river a few yards, we decided to explore by foot – apparently 11 miles wasn’t enough for the day. Beaching the canoe, we both immediately stepped into seemingly solid sand and sank just deep enough to get our fresh socks soaked. Thankfully we’d both put our sandals on, so we took off the socks, and traveled amphibiously up the river for another ½ mile. The siren’s call of every new turn kept drawing us up the river, but alas the setting sun reminded us we had to get back to the canoe – another part of the world left unexplored.
Back at camp we settled in for dinner and another night around the lantern. Over another can of Foster’s (they travel well and pack out nicely when crushed) we alternated between planning our next adventure, reliving old adventures, stargazing, and listening to blues on the radio. It being our last night in the wilderness, we hung on as long as we could, but finally retired to our tents at midnight.

1 comment:
I am a sea kayaker from Oak Harbor Washington and know exactly what you're talking about when you write about Baker Lake. It's a magical place.
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