One Friday in October 2018 I made a spur-of-the-moment decision to head up from Seattle to the North Cascades National Park, specifically the Cutthroat Pass trail. Like thousands of others in October, I went on the hunt for Larix lyallii, or the alpine larch. During the fall, these trees turn from green to an electric golden color as they lose their needles. Since we on the west coast don’t have the vibrant maples or aspens, characteristic of places like Vermont and Colorado, respectively, these are as close to a natural fall display as we’ll get – but we’ve got to work for them. They generally live at high elevations of 6,000+ feet, so they don’t exactly grow along the road.

And so the 4-hour drive began right after work that Friday, with the plan to camp out in my truck at the trailhead for an early start on Saturday. However, the more north I drove, the more I started feeling sick. About halfway through I felt my throat start to itch, getting progressively worse. The flu or flu-like symptoms persisted throughout the 15-degree night and I got little to no sleep. Around 5 or 6 in the morning I downed whatever Tylenol or Motrin I had in my first aid kit to break the fever, and started to power through the hike.

About halfway up the trail, I saw the first larch tree along the trail, stopping to take in its otherworldly color. Little did I know, this would be the first of many. As I kept climbing, the icy trail became lined with them. Finally reaching the namesake Cutthroat Pass, the sun had come up and illuminated an entire valley of larches. I stopped to enjoy the scenery, grab some photos, and head back down the 5 miles I’d come up – downing more water and medicine along the way.

All-in-all, it turned out to be a great decision. Only one or two other folks had the same idea as me, in camping the Friday ahead, so this extremely busy trail was met with almost complete solitude… Until I turned around and counted 180+ people making their way up past me. Although making this hike while feeling like complete garbage brought an entirely new meaning to type-two fun (“miserable while it's happening, but fun in retrospect”), the images I came back with were truly special.