All in all, the weather had been kind that night. The storm had passed shortly after we drifted off and the rains never got too heavy. Within our little coppice the trees had done their job keeping us safe and sound. We were very much in the clouds as we left camp.
The mists gave us about 50 meters of visibility all around. It was a shame as we were just entering Glacier Peak Wilderness, one of the most beautiful spots on trail. From what we could tell, we were passing through meadows for quite some time as we wound our way along ridges past the 2,500 mile marker. Eventually however, as we descended into a rocky valley, we suddenly dropped below the cloud line and could at least see some way ahead.
This valley was exactly like the Lake District (I know I’ve said this before but this time it was uncanny) which made Molly and I feel right at home. At the far end were patches of woodland around a meandering river, but besides that it was barren and heath like. In the break of weather we had lunch, but it didn’t last long with drizzle settling in once more.
Into a dense moss filled woodland we went, descending steeply alongside a torrenting glacial river for 7 miles before beginning yet another big climb. This took us back into the cloud and with that came rain. We clambered over fallen trees, down mud slides and through soaked bushes towards Fire Creek. Here we set up our tents as carefully as we could, though a sudden down pour made for miserable work. The inner tent was dry but we were soaked and it took some time for us to get comfortable and warm within our little home. A warm dinner did the job though and, once again, as the light dissipated we found ourselves drifting off to the sound of rain.