The Laramee Filter: pseudorandom thoughts, subsequently put on the Internet.
 
Author:
Tom Laramee
Date Published:
Oct 1st, 2026
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2,504 (17:30 read time)
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Mount Pilchuck to Bathtub Lakes Traverse

In which we answer the following question: exactly how much of this is actually runnable? (The answer turns out to be: not much.)
 

I recently heard that one could run[1] from the summit of Mount Pilchuck to Bathtub Lakes. Below is a map, from which you can see a couple of obvious logistical implications:

  1. The summit, the Pilchuck lookout, and the lakes are all at a high, similar elevation, so, you're going to need to go across to get there (not down, nor up, nor necessarily around).
  2. There's a saddle adjacent to the summit (directly east), which connects the summit to the ridge. You'll need to get across that somehow.
  3. The ridge is high (~5,000') and exposed. It looks tricky, likely a little dangerous.
Approximate Traversal Path In Green
 

I set about finding a GPX track and truth be told, there don't seem to be all that many. I found one on caltopo and put it onto my phone (via GaiaGPS). Also, I read some descriptions, like this great one from The Mountaineers, so I'd know what to expect .

Then I set off on my run, and while I did eventually make it to the lakes, I wanted to clarify a number of things in case someone else wanted to attempt this, and I also wanted to provide some route-finding advice.

 
What I learned During My Initial Run
This was easily one of the more interesting, challenging, and satisfying runs I've ever done (thus this blog post). Here are many of the things I learned, all specific to this trail (and these are presented in no particular order):
 
Before We Set Out: A Couple of General Thoughts on Trail Running

I've long contemplated whether trail running is mostly a physical challenge, or whether it's mostly a mental challenge. I've gone back and forth, e.g: 50%:50% (physical:mental), 75%:25%, 60%:40%, etc.

I think this run solidified my conclusion: trail running is, ironically enough, mostly a mental challenge. Meaning, in order to trail run, you'll have more mental impediments to overcome than you will physical impediments.

I'm not saying that the physical demands aren't significant, but at the end of the day, if you pace yourself enough, and incrementally increase your leg muscle strength and cardio over time, you'll be able to run an awful lot of trails (after all, look at me / I'm out there doing stuff).

What doesn't seem to change[5] is the mental challenge. I always doubt myself before, and during, each run. I often have to convince myself to begin, and nearly always have to convince myself to continue. I have a monologue that I've employed dozens of times, sort of a little pep-talk, which usually begins "You are incredibly lucky to have the opportunity to do this, today, right now, in this moment."[6]

Speaking of mental exercises: one thing I noticed on this run was how helpful it was to "look past the lookout/summit" on this run. Meaning, the lookout is usually the destination, so I'm pretty sure that I calibrate my energy output accordingly (such that I've used up most of my energy right when I reach the lookout).

On this run, I kept telling myself "The lookout is just the ante today / You have a lot further to go after the lookout / This 1st leg has to be trivial when completed".

This made a huge difference for some reason. When I got to the lookout, I was immediately ready to continue, whereas normally, when I arrive at the lookout I'm completely exhausted and appreciate the time to rest while I'm taking photos.

And while we're on the subject of the mental challenges of trail running, here's one paradox of trail running: I never feel as physically out of shape as I do during a run (and therefore ashamed of ... well, everything about my current physical state) whereas I never feel more physically accomplished than after completing a trail run.

 
The Pilchuck East Ridge Traverse

Most of this time will be spent getting you onto the ridge. I think the trail is follow-able after that (provided you read the "What I learned During My Initial Run" section that is)[7].

 

The Entry to the Saddle

Leaving the lookout, follow the trail for 50', then you'll see a fork (left/right). The right path is towards the trailhead. You'll take the left fork. Walk ~30-50'. You'll see a sandy camping spot 10' in front of you ... turn to your left, that's your ingress point to the saddle.

You'll be looking down a smooth, steep slope with a very faint boot-path.

Here's a 30-second video containing a description of where to go (movie should download when clicked). Also, here's a slightly less helpful video (also short) after I had found the proper trail.

Here's a photo with your approximate traversal penciled in:

Approximate Traversal Path In Green
 

The only tricky part during this first section is getting through the trees to the ridge. This is where navigating by topography will come in handy. You'll have to get a clear understanding of where you want to be on the ridge prior to entering the trees, and then just proceed until you hit the ridge. Any path will suffice, and I'd argue that there's no way to get lost because the contours of the ridge and mountain leave only one path.

 

The Ridge

Once you're on the ridge, follow the yellow [brick] dots. You'll see these on the rocky sections.

The ridge is, while not straightforward, navigable. It's mostly short sections over rocks, then through trees, then over exposed sections. There are some twists and turns for sure, but it's only 0.95 miles from the lookout to the Bathtub Lakes area.

As far as running is concerned, only the last 0.2 miles is actually runnable (and where it is runnable, it's lovely).

Here's a 30-second video from the initial ridge section (movie should download when clicked). And here's a 30-second video from the middle of the ridge.

 

Some GPX Tracks

Here are 3 GPX tracks, from the lookout to the lakes area:

   ‑My traverse / there (blue)
   ‑My traverse / back (green)
   ‑Traverse / not mine (red)

If you put all three of these onto a map, this is what you'll see:

My Paths are Blue and Green
 

I'm not sure what's going on with the red path, where it deviates on the ridge, but I am sure whatever trail that it joins back up with the trail I ran, as there's really only one path across that ridge.

I do hope this helps (I know it would have helped me quite a bit). In the end, I measured 7.5 miles of distance and approximately 3,358' of elevation gain. It makes no sense at all for me to include time and/or pace data, and I had a [literal] 41 minute mile in there where I spent most of my time wandering around being lost.

If I had to make a rough time estimate, it would look like so:

That's 190 minutes or 3 hours, 10 minutes[8].

 
Gratuitous Photo Gallery

Here are a couple of photos from my run, which, in a not-so-subtle nod to the late author DFW, is a Supposedly Fun Thing I'll Definitely Do Again.

From approximately 0.2 miles along the ridge, looking back
The initial view of the Bathtub Lakes
The smaller of the first pair of lakes
Some lovely reflective symmetry
My Topo™ next to a pool of crystal clear water
The larger of the two initial lakes
The path just after you emerge from the lake basin (it's lovely)
Near the middle of the ridge, looking back towards the lakes area
You'll see Heather Lake, 3,000' below, from the ridge
Looking towards my eventual destination, back on terra firma
Just before descending into the saddle, there's another trail down and to the left, across the lower face of the Pilchuck summit block
From the lookout, the familiar (and somewhat menacing) east view
 
 
Footnotes:
[1] If one were so inclined*.
 
(* there's a pun there, for those of you who are paying attention)
[2] That is: look around you, note the ridge, the slope, the trees, the rocks, and then understand where you need to end up for this next segment. It's not a big deal, but I found myself doing this a handful of times.
 
The macro-level topography of this one is essential to understand, in order to navigate the trail without a lot of wandering around trying to figure out where to go.
[3] How do I know this? I followed it.
[4] There's a place where you have to pull yourself 5' up and over a rock to continue the trail. It's just not obvious at all that that's the correct path (it looks like a dead-end).
 
Said another way, and I think much more clearly: the correct path sometimes looks like the path you'd choose last - literally last - if you were just trying to figure things out.
[5] For me anyways. Of course, this section contains thoughts that are subjective relative to myself, so don't take it too seriously if they don't resonate with you.
 
I've now run 180x in the past 7 years (25x/year), and while that might not seem like a lot, but this year my average distance is 8 miles with an average elevation gain of 2,864', which isn't bad.
 
(Please keep in mind that I hike too. This year, I've hiked 9x, with an average distance of 7.5 miles and an average elevation gain of 3,487', which means these are all non-trivial hikes.)
 
Anyways, I find it easy to wake up at 4:30/5:00am and get to the trailhead, but I do find it difficult to get out of the car sometimes. I just think about how cold and wet it is, and how much I'll be huffing and puffing my way up the trail (read: how bad I'll feel), and how much more civilized it would be to turn around, drive home, and crawl back into bed.
 
Interesting side note: I never feel this way hiking. There's never hesitation. It's only running that has these mental impediments.
[6] Also a frequent/requisite part of the monologue:
 
"Constant work output not constant pace. No one cares about pace, and nor would they understand it anyways, until they come out with you can try to run the 1st half mile of of the Ira Spring trail and then see how that feels. After all, true wisdom is gained through experience."
[7] Come now... we all know long-form text/prose is dead. Nobody reads anymore.
[8] The reality is that nobody runs that fast, and so add in an hour for minor route-finding, time to take photos along the way, time to keep from throwing up all over your own shoes half-way up to the summit as you're doubled-over trying to catch your breath (etc).
 
This is en entire blog post in and of itself: clock time vs. running time, what does "steep" mean, and what, precisely does the verb "to run" imply?