Special to The SunBreak by John Hieger
Goat paranoia dominated conversation in my outdoors circle ever since the fatal goring of a hiker in Olympic National Park last year. Exaggerated legends of grizzly-sized goats drawn by an unrelenting lust for liberal hiker flesh swirled around the campfire as acoustic guy replaced the tired Jack-Johnsonesque three-chord soundtrack with chilling renditions of “Night Goat.”
So you can imagine my sheer terror when three boy scouts heading back on the Pete Lake trail north of Salmon La Sac told my party that a pack of goats was headed our way.
“Goats plural? My tactics don’t account for multiple!” I thought spinning around wild-eyed, blood running yellow with fear. I stammered, “G-g-goats,” to the doomed party and saw returned the universal look of disbelief I’ve come to associate with guilty defendants learning their fate from the jury, on shows like 20/20 and 60 Minutes.
Earlier in the week a rabid goat-paranoia endorser who wasn’t joining us forwarded me a Seattle Times link about aggressive goats in the area, knowing full well I would obsess on it. Suddenly his passive aggressiveness had turned prophetic.
A moment later, a rustling in the bushes up ahead–I was sure the ambush was bearing down without mercy. I looked for a rock, something blunt, anything. Then a strange, orange flash caught the corner of my eye, then another. “Do goats know how to use flash grenades?” My mind reeled into absurdity.
Suddenly the right-hand side of the trail was ablaze with large goats kitted out in uber-bright orange vests, looking more like techno casualties than human-eaters. They were turncoats, working for–as opposed to feasting on–humans, which was a huge relief. A hunter had been “scouting” with the platoon and was heading back after one got hurt. They were cute and pathetic at the same time. Nobody pulls off day-glow orange, not even the dreaded goat.
Putting the confrontation behind us, our group lumbered north through the back door of the Alpine Lakes Wilderness, greeting the region’s alternative Eastern personality that substitutes the predominately fir-centric forests of its Alpental side for sandier soil and spacious pines more befitting an arid central Washington ecosystem. The dusty, albeit relatively fly-free trail meanders past the occasional old growth and trout stream while towering, glaciated 7ooo-plus foot peaks loom ominously overhead like menacing gothic cathedrals from a Tim Burton set, reminding us that were not at Mt. Si anymore.
Unlike many other flat hikes, Pete Lake doesn’t skimp on the scenery. Summit Chief Mountain, the kind of massive, snowy edifice befitting such a name stands unmistakably to the north as waterfalls and avalanches cascade down its inhospitable, granite face. This is the heart of the Alpine Lakes, where the glaciers and wild things still are, where big peaks like Chimney Rock and Mt. Daniels (highest point in King County) hold court far off the hiking-in-jeans crowd’s radar.
The journey to the lake is as flat as you can get in legitimate mountain country although numerous alternatives to gain elevation present themselves in a patchwork of trails running along ridges in every direction, giving the cardio set something to gun for if five hundred feet of elevation gain is too forgiving.
As both backpacker and drinker, I’ve learned that the weight of a bag of wine and the subsequent hangover said disgusting wine guarantees can make relatively easier hikes like Pete Lake an attractive option when plotting the weekend.
The additional luxury of a four-and-a-half-mile cake walk each direction is that you can splurge on amenities; our group packed floaties, taking advantage of the hot, summer air and turning the lake into an organic beach resort, only instead of the requisite meatheads and hepatitis that come standard at popular resort pools we had goats and clean water, which seemed like a fair trade at day’s end.
Directions: I-90 East to Roslyn, follow Salmon La Sac Road (S.R. 903) north past the Red Mountain Campground then take a left at Road 46 and follow signs east past Cooper Lake to trail 1323. All roads paved until trail parking area.
is an online magazine of news & culture. A conversation about the things on Seattle's mind.
Subscribe via RSS
Daily Email Digest of The SunBreak
Glad you managed to escape the rabid goat feast. Clearly the “tales” do just as they should inspiring fear and retaliatory tactics. I too wonder about their experience with grenades. I’m wondering what sort of trajectory their working with? Ive enjoyed this hike as it is a “cake walk” allowing for the packing of whiskey, music and grenades.