Chuckanut Ridge & Mountain

There were few cars when six of us met at the North Chuckanut Mountain Trailhead, tightening our packs, lacing our boots, and checking our gear. After some quick introductions and the customary Mountaineers leader talk, we were on the trail before 8 am. The loop hike took us through a wide variety of trails, a Chuckanut sampler platter, if you will. Throughout the day, we explored the Hemlock, Huckleberry, Raptor Ridge, Lost Lake, Rock, and Chuckanut Ridge trails.

The forest pulled us in right away. Ferns stretched out across the woods, tall evergreens overhead. Every so often we passed through an alder grove that felt lighter and airier. The air was fresh and earthy. While it felt humid, the Chuckanut Ridge trail gave us a reprieve, as if someone had opened a window. The shade from the tree cover, present throughout the hike, also helped keep us from getting too hot. 

Somewhere along the way we ended up in a lighthearted “debate” about some grey trees off in the distance and what they might be. No one settled the question, but there was plenty of laughter and teasing, and it was one of those small trail moments that stick with you.

We stopped often enough to really take things in. Raptor Ridge gave us our first long break, with sweeping views across the valleys below. Later we took over a picnic table at the end of Cleator Road for snacks and conversation. The final big pause came in an unexpected spot on Chuckanut Ridge, where the trees opened up to reveal Mount Baker standing clear in the distance.

The route did have its challenges. There were no easy water sources unless we had taken a half-mile detour to Lost Lake. We also shared the trails with mountain bikers. At one crossing a biker came down a hill fast and almost collided with one of our group. On Chuckanut Ridge we took our time on a few scramble-like sections where a slip could have led to a fall. In wet weather it would be even trickier. I also had not realized there was a running event happening on the same trails that day, but the runners came through only occasionally and it never felt crowded.

The Rock Trail was as impressive as ever. Towering rock formations lined the path, shaped by centuries of water and wind. On other visits I have seen them draped in moss with water dripping down their faces, but they were dry this time. I would recommend returning in the wetter season to see them at their most dramatic.

By the time we returned to the trailhead I had finished almost three liters of water and felt that good kind of tired you only get from a day of steady effort. By the end, I felt both spent and satisfied, happy with the group and feeling we had earned every mile.