Hex Mountain

About 100 miles northwest of our house is the tiny town of Cle Elum, nicknamed "the heart of the Cascades." Many recreation areas are still closed due to the pandemic, but extensive research revealed a gem of a trail hidden tucked away down an unmarked unnamed gravel road. No parking lot, no facilities, no closure--the perfect pandemic escape! This area was burned during the horrible wildfires of 2017, so trail info warned that it was a full-sun no-shade excursion. I knew I would need water for the endeavor. When my snazzy new hydration vest was delivered a few days early, I decided it was time to tackle the Hex Mountain Trail.  

Friday, May 29th was the day. I found the unnamed gravel road by checking the name of the nearest road on the map and taking the first left afterwards. There were two other cars parked along the side of the steep gravel road, and I only saw a handful of people all day. I slathered on sunscreen, tied my shoes, adjusted my pack, and headed up the road. And up and up and up and up...the "road" was more of a rough rocky rutted jumble. My trail info said it was 1.7 miles up the rough road to the actual trailhead, so I watched my mileage carefully. It was easy to tell when I made a wrong turn at a three-way fork in the road because I started going downhill again. Back on the right road, I continued up, up, up, up. The evergreens were extra green in the cheerful sunshine, and they smelled of heaven. I took regular sips of water from my hydration hose.

The views kept opening wider and wider to my right and back behind me. The rough rocky road made enjoying the view a risk, though. During the second mile, I tripped on a particularly large rock and fell. Thankfully the grade was so steep that I didn't fall hard and I only fell onto one knee and the impact on my hands was minimal. Luckily I packed my hydration vest well, and had a first aid kit in one of the pockets. After caring for my cut knee, I stood and absorbed the view before continuing onward and upward, eyes down on the rocks. The birds sang and the pine trees perfumed the warm air. Lake Cle Elum glimmered in the distance. 

Off and on, I mulled over the beautiful lake's unmelodious name. Even Cle Elum Lake would roll off the tongue better than Lake Cle Elum. Ah well, the road continued upward until at last I reached the trailhead. I paused and enjoyed the view for a bit before forging upwards once again. There was zero relief in the relentless incline of this climb. Once I hit the trail, the grade got steeper. Even walking kept my heart rate in the 150s, so I walked--hiked--up the trail, breaking into a sluggish jog whenever the hill mellowed slightly (not often). Overall, I ran and walked about an equal 50/50 on this trail, a conscious choice to save my muscles from crippling soreness that comes with overdoing it on steep grades.

The scenery kept shifting. On the rough service road, it was mostly green pine trees. At the beginning of the trail, I saw plentiful evidence of the wildfires. Black sticks of trees stabbed into the lush green undergrowth with yellow wildflowers scattered throughout, creating a beautiful blend of life and death. As I climbed higher, the trees dropped away so I was on a sweeping ridgeline. Then I plunged back into a forest of blackened tree snags, then back out into the open. At last I reached the top of the final ridge and stopped, gasping for air. 

The 360 degree panoramic views were central Cascades perfection. As he is wont to do, Mount Rainier presided on the horizon just above Lake Cle Elum. One side of Hex Mountain had green pines; the other side had burned black sticks. It was fascinating to see nature slowly recover her dignity after such a harsh burn. A lone man was eating lunch atop the surprisingly small rocky top of Hex Mountain when I arrived. I said hi and then ate my granola bar and peanut butter crackers in silence. People don't hike alone so they can chat with strangers. Thank goodness. 

My All Trails app and trail map was still working, with a handy GPS dot on my location, so I decided to descend on a different trail. My trail map showed several intersecting trails along the route back, but I figured I'd be able navigate through them well enough with assistance from GPS. I was wrong! I made a wrong turn somewhere, probably at an intersection of five trails, and didn't realize it until I had descended over a mile straight down. My quads were crying. There was no way I was backtracking. I checked the map. Worst case scenario, I would follow the trail I was on and come out on the main road a mile or two away from my car. But then I heard a creek. I checked to see if it had a trail heading towards where my car was parked. It did, even though the trail was not marked on my map. I crossed the creek and found my car about a mile later.

I babied my legs as much as I could on this 50/50 run/hike and it was worth the effort. I am sore, but not crippled. 

Round trip: 8.6 miles (counting wrong turns and detours)

Elevation gain: 2,800 feet over 4 miles

Moving time: 2 hours 26 minutes (not counting stops) 

Reenacting the final ascent for a fortuitously timed photo--my legs would not allow me to repeat this a third time, haha.

Starting out, with greenery and mountains.

First view of the lake. Having the right gear makes such a difference. My hydration running vest held 1.5 liters of water in the bladder and had so many useful pockets. It was a luxury to have plenty of water--no rationing needed. I was also able to carry our good pocket camera to take a few non-cell phone pictures at the summit. Not to mention my snacks and first aid kit-in-a-baggie. When Jeff saw this vest, he asked "are you ever coming back?" He was right, I could have lasted twice as long out there with this pack! I told Jeff I would always come back.

Flowers and dead trees

That was the sharpest rock I've ever sat on. Yowch! This was a small clearing opposite the official trailhead. It was a lovely spot to catch my breath and take in the view before reentering the uphill fray.

The one and only sign I saw out there all day.

Green, yellow, and black.

I believe these yellow flowers are called western goldenrod maybe? They look like scruffy dandelions to me.

Seriously, STEEP. When I faced forward, all I could see was trail. I had to crane my neck upwards to see anything but dirt trail.

The yellow balsamroot flowers were on their way out, but the purple lupines were flourishing so all was not lost.

It was hard running with such a view behind me!

I love a good ridgeline path.

These tiny purple flowers with reddish orange leaves looked sparkly on the ground.

A few handy stick arrows pointed the right way at important junctions.

Life and death.

This blackened forest was slightly eerie. The sun went behind a cloud when I entered too, accentuating the gloominess.

View from the top of Hex Mountain #1

View from the top #2

View from the top #3

The picnicking guy offered to take my picture, so I would take his picture. 

Mt. Rainier, large and in charge of the WA skyline.

Zoomed in on that rugged Stuart range. 

The bald knob top of Hex Mountain.

Toothpick fire blackened dead trees on the left.

Fuzzy brushy living trees on the right.

Mt Rainier, still there.

Dead trees.

The top of that brown tip is the summit of Hex Mountain.

One more time, Rainier, just because.

Downward!

A brief search didn't tell me what those white flowers might be called. Oh well, they're still pretty.

The lupine flowers were everywhere on the descent.

Looking back up the trail. It was a dirt bike friendly trail so the dirt was much looser than the hiking trail I took up the mountain. 

I was too hot and tired to do much with timed running pictures, but I did get this one.

My poor quads--this loose dirt-and-rock combo made for a lethal descent.

The creek! I splashed the cool water all over my salty face, arms, and legs. It stung my cut knee but felt amazing everywhere else.

Yay! A trail on the far side of the creek!

Dirt. It's all dirt--not tan. I took my shoes off when I got to the car, and hello, DIRT.

Instagram-summary: My solo trail-run-hike involved a four mile climb up 2,800 feet with nary a switchback in sight--no wonder it's called Hex Mountain. If the steep grade was a hex, then the endless views were the counter-curse!