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When we planned our 2-day family backpack to Cascade Pass, I pictured the classic North Cascades adventure: high camp at Sahale Arm below the glacier we climbed over two decades ago, mountain goats chomping in the meadow, maybe even a glimpse of ptarmigan overlooking Doubtful Lake.

Instead, overnight backcountry permits were gone, wildfire smoke made the skies hazy, and our best option was an out-of-the-way site called Basin Creek Campground. It’s not often you celebrate your third choice. But I am.

As I’ve been learning to do over the past few years, I let go of previous expectations and stayed open to what might unfold. This trip reminded me, once again, that when we release what we thought we wanted, we often find something even better.

On the Trail with Family

I’m a morning person, so I was bouncing off the walls, eager to start our adventure before my husband and daughter. Our three-hour drive included a detour and many miles of dusty gravel switchbacks, but we eventually arrived grabbed a parking spot not too far below the actual Cascade Pass parking area.

My husband set a steady 2 mph pace. We leapfrogged with other hikers and backpackers inching up the dusty trail. I marveled at the coated ferns thirsty for any drop of moisture. At last, we reached a trickle of water and soaked our bandanas. At the Pass, day hikers shared stories of mountain goats and ptarmigan above us on Sahale Arm, our original destination which would have taken us 1500’ higher. But not this trip.

In my younger years, I would have felt restless and driven, focused on pushing higher, going farther, determined to reach the summit. This time was different. Instead of chasing what others had seen and reported, we had a different itinerary.

Beyond the Crowds at Cascade Pass

Once we descended into the basin toward Pelton Campground, the crowds thinned out and the trail opened up. We stopped for water half a mile below Cascade Pass and snacked on ripe, fall-off-the-bush berries. By the time we crested another ridge and peered deep into Basin Creek Basin, the rugged magnificence took my breath away. I seek “wow” moments; this trip was full of them.

Jagged peaks, the Quien Sabe glacier, and a remote, deep valley stretched before us, silent and almost empty of people. The sense of solitude washed over me. We had stepped beyond the popular path, and in return were given something far more rare.

Our daughter set out ahead of us, faster on the downhills. With heavier packs and more accumulated elevation gain than any of us had done all summer, I realized how important it was to respect the heat and our own rhythm. What mattered most was that the experience be positive enough for our daughter so she might want to backpack again. As I watched her heading out in front of us, I knew we had chosen the right trip for all of us.

Wildlife, Waterfalls, and Unexpected Gifts

Doubtful Falls became our highlight of the entire trip. Shoes and packs off, we waded in the glacier-fed water and enjoyed its comforting cascade. The smoke in the air Friday morning softened the light, lending an otherworldly glow to some of our photos. In one, the three of us sit together, the waterfall roaring around us, a portrait of family strength and solace. That gift would never have happened at Sahale Arm among the crowds.

Other delights appeared once we relaxed our expectations. Pikas squeaked from rocky slopes. A marmot peeked out from a crack in the rock, soaking up sun. A flock of cedar waxwings danced in the morning heat. And as I filtered the first water of the day, I smiled as an American dipper bobbed its head in Basin Creek. Each sighting felt like a private treasure, ours alone to notice.

The lessons were clear. First, openness can reveal gifts you did not even know to seek. Second, letting go in the moment matters. It would have been easy to dwell on missing Sahale Arm or the chance at photos of mountain goats or ptarmigan. Instead, I embraced the falls, the berries, the evident joy on my daughter’s face as we waded in the water. Third, honoring the pace and path that worked for our family turned this into a success story rather than one of disappointment.

Lessons in Solitude and Surrender

I thought of the wood duck totem I have written about before. It reminds me to float calmly where the current carries me, to stay alert but gentle, to find beauty in unexpected places. This backpacking trip was a chance to anchor that lesson and solidify my mantra.

On our second morning, we watched sunrise paint the smoky sky with shades of gold and rose before heading back toward Cascade Pass. I asked my daughter if she might want to try backpacking again someday. She gave a simple, confident “Sure.” To me, that was the ultimate victory.

My Takeaway

This was our only backpack of the season. It was not the route we had intended, nor the summit-focused trip I might have chased years ago. It was better. Basin Creek gave us solitude, family connection, and the joy of discovering that the road less traveled holds its own kind of magic. Sometimes the trail we do not expect becomes the one we need most.

Is there some expectation you’re holding tightly to? What would happen if you let go and rejoiced in whatever comes next? As I gear up to lead four long graduation hikes this month, I repeat my mantra. I lead from the wood-duck life within me. I have nothing to prove, only to trust and be.

My intentions: to be as fully present as I can and to celebrate each hiker’s success as they complete their summer of Conditioning for Hiking Series. I’ve already done my part. Anything beyond that is gravy.