CROSSING
THE
AMERICAN
ALPS
A THREE-DAY OFF-TRAIL ROUTE
IN THE NORTH CASCADES

WORDS AND IMAGES BY ANDY COCHRANE
As a photographer, writer, filmmaker, trail runner and climber, Andy Cochrane is no stranger to the fact that plans don’t always pan out—and when they don’t, that’s when the story gets good. You know what they say: It’s not an adventure until something goes wrong. Set in a smoke-saturated, storm-brimming episode in the North Cascades of Washington, this photo essay chronicles the challenges of the alpine and boils down the important things while climbing up high.
Backpacking on trail but not for long, in the North Cascades.
Hiking up the Alpine Lakes Crest Traverse in the North Cascades.
After beginning our journey with a stout 3,000 foot climb, we diverged from the established path, following a route less traveled: the Alpine Lakes Crest Traverse. Two days earlier, due to wildfire smoke and road closures, we were forced to call a last minute audible, forcing us slightly south to this part of the North Cascades and a route none of us had done before. We were excited and nervous for what was to come and nearly right away we knew we were in for something special.
Close up on the broken soon to be fixed hiking pole and their continued hike along the rocky and snowy terrain.
JUST A FEW MINUTES LATER
I heard a loud snap, looking back to see that Alli had broken her hiking pole in half. With a spoon and duct tape, this was a quick fix—and without knowing it at the time, also was foreshadowing for what was to come.
We ascended a scree-filled gully and body-belayed a pair of low-fifth class pitches, then began a long descent to our first campsite at Iceberg Lake. This section was supposed to be a large snowfield, which would have made for quick travel,but by mid-summer it was completely dry, leaving a debris field with miles of walking on loose, babyhead-sized rocks. The travel was very slow going, because we knew that an unlucky sprained ankle would be an arduous evac.
Setting up camp by an alpine lake surrounded by wildflowers and wild terrain.
By late afternoon we arrived at Iceberg and found two flat yet small spots for the tents, right near the water. After setting up camp we made dinner and watched the sunset over the mountains, enjoying a spot that few others get to see all that often.
Two images, side by side, the first making hot water for a cup of coffee by camp at the lake, and the second, climbing on the glacier.
We woke early, wanting to get a jump on the long day. Learning how slow travel can be on technical routes, we gave ourselves a bigger buff on the second day. Still, we took the time to enjoy a quiet cup of coffee before packing up camp, appreciating just the silence and calmness on the lake.
After a long climb, we arrived at the foot of Overcoat Glacier. Throwing on crampons and roping up, we traveled in a connected group, crossing small crevasses and ice patches with ease. The first half of the glacier was fast, with thick snow bridges, allowing us to walk in straight lines at a comfortable pace.
Three mountaineers traverse a snow-covered glacier beneath a rugged mountain peak under a partly cloudy sky. The image captures a dramatic perspective, showing a translucent blue crevasse beneath the icy surface. The climbers are roped together and equipped with helmets, harnesses, and crampons, highlighting the technical nature of their alpine journey.
As the glacier started to descend, large crevasses opened up, some deep enough that you couldn’t see the bottom. This forced us to slow down and take our time, as if we were picking our way through the maze to find the safest route through.
Two hikers navigate a narrow alpine trail along a steep, rocky slope surrounded by rugged peaks and scattered snowfields. In the distance, jagged mountains tower above a dramatic landscape of cliffs and evergreen trees. The terrain ahead appears challenging and exposed.
The crux of the route was still to come, a rocky two-mile ridge that ended at Summit Chief Mountain. With ample dead ends and sloped goat trails situated on loose rocks, this section was not for the faint of heart. We eventually found safe passage and made our way off the ridge, allowing us to make up some time from the more technical sections.
In a misty forest campsite at dawn or dusk, a person in a bright green rain jacket prepares a meal on a camping stove, illuminated by a headlamp. In the adjacent image, three campers wearing headlamps and rain jackets laugh and sip hot drinks together, enjoying a cozy moment in the cold, damp wilderness. Tents and tall evergreen trees surround the group, with a faint view of a lake and mountains in the background.
A storm rolled in that night, hammering our tents and not helping our recovery sleep. It also made the next morning a cold and wet affair, when even the stoves didn’t want to run.
Yet, sometimes all you can do is laugh at yourselves. We dealt with smoke, disappearing snowfields, big storms, and long days, and somehow still loved every minute. That’s the best part about good companions—even the hardest days are fun.
Backpacking in the rain.
SHOP THE GEAR
FROM THIS TRIP
Explore All
After packing up camp as quickly as possible, we began the long hike out, clad in rain jackets and most of the warm layers we had. The views in this section were incredible, despite spending most of our time watching our feet, trying to not slip and fall.
Navigating the map while on the backpacking trip.
Using a brief break in the weather, we stopped for a snack and to discuss the final part of the route, which took us even higher across the Lynch Glacier. With thick clouds, high winds, and heavy precip, we opted for an alternative option, keeping us away from glacial travel which came with even higher consequences. Although disheartening at first, we walked away from the trip knowing it was the right decision. Sometimes you have to have the wisdom to know when you’re getting close to the line and the humility to know when to head home.
WRITTEN & PHOTOGRAPHED BY

ANDY COCHRANE

As the son of two park rangers, Andy built a lot of forts as a kid. After undergrad he moved to the Bay Area, earned an Design Strategy MBA, and worked in software for five years. A mid-twenties-life-crisis drove some questionable decisions, including five years and 200,000 miles living out of his Toyota Tacoma. He now resides in Bend, Oregon, with his partner and dog, Zero.
Follow Andy
Portrait of Andy Cochrane behind a camera.