Test of the Crest
1998 Discovery 1 V8 takes on the 600mile Washington Backcountry Discovery route
A 1998 Discovery V8 takes on the Washington Backcountry Discovery Route, a 1000 km unpaved track that crosses the state from Oregon to Canada along the eastern slopes of the Cascade Mountains. If wild camping, rattlesnakes, and a race against a forest fire is your thing then you might want to give it a try
CHANGING a Land Rover Discovery’s fuel pump is typically a casual affair. But when it’s a roasting 35 degrees, you’re in a remote mining settlement in the mountains of Washington State, and wildfire threatens to cut off your path, the project gains a certain sense of urgency. A grizzled volunteer firefighter rushing to the front lines in his pick-up truck paused alongside my Land Rover. Leaning out the window, he gazed toward the smoke and advised retreating to safe ground. I was halfway through the Washington Backcountry Discovery Route and was not interested in bailing out now. With the spare pump installed, the engine roared to life and we raced over Blewett Pass before fire blocked our progress.
Three days earlier I had started the Washington Backcountry Discovery Route, a series of dirt roads and tracks spanning Washington State from the southern border at the Columbia River north to Canada. Nearly 1000 kilometres long, it weaves along the eastern slopes of the Cascade Mountains. Periodically the route passes through sleepy towns, giving travellers a chance to resupply. Stunning wilderness campsites abound and the route traverses steep ridges, skirts glaciated volcanoes, and crosses the highest pass in the state. Upon learning about it I knew I must answer the question: could I complete the Discovery Route in my largely unmodified Discovery?
Thankfully I had experienced company for the adventure. I took on board my friends Frank Marley, on break between military assignments, and Christie Fisher, whose organisational skills shone throughout the trip. My friend Scott Walker joined us for the first two sections in his 1995 Range Rover. Rounding out the party were Trevor Sly and Madison Gallentine, taking time away from Coast Guard duties and piloting their Discovery II with their two dogs.
"For three days we rose and fell through the dusty swells of the Cascades, camping in shady nooks and cooling down in lakes"
We eased into the route below the snowy slopes of Mount Adams, grateful for GPS guidance through the tangle of unmarked forest roads. A natural rhythm to the journey emerged – rising at 06.00 am to cover distance before the late summer sun roasted us on the exposed ridges, moving at a casual pace, and stopping frequently to admire the majesty of the landscape. From craggy escarpments we gazed across the Cascades, its rugged peaks shimmering in the heat like waves on a granite sea.
Section two brought our first challenge as the route took us over the triple crown of Bethel Ridge, Cleman Mountain, and Umtanum Ridge. Ascending above the forest we left behind the gravel roads and swayed over rocky tracks in low range. Cresting Umtanum Ridge mid-afternoon a call crackled across the radio: “Scott, is something dragging under your truck?” Sustained jarring had cracked the Rangie’s ancient exhaust hangers and the pipe was bouncing along the track. The repair finished what nature started and Scott stowed the detached pipe in the back of his Rover. That evening he pressed home to Seattle, rumbling unmuffled into the sunset while the rest of us set up camp alongside a creek.
Although down to two vehicles, we gained a new companion: the dust. It was a beige talcum powder that kicked up at the slightest disturbance and settled on every surface. It stuck to sweaty arms, coated the Discos inside and out, and blew through open windows into eyes and nostrils. Every time you closed a door a billowing cloud of silt enveloped you. The only places safe from it were inside our dry bags and Pelican cases. The volume and persistence of the dust rivalled anything I experienced during my years living in Africa. Paired with the intensity of the heat, the conditions of our journey contrasted with the cooler and lush evergreen forests blanketing the western side of the Cascade crest.
We knew from advance research that landslides blocked section three of the route. Rather than attempt to bridge them with Camel Trophy-style heroics, we took a detour. I knew a network of 4x4 tracks from previous off-road outings that bypassed the obstructions via spicier terrain. We folded our side mirrors to squeeze between trees, ascended loose, rocky climbs in low range with locked differential, and balanced over boulders to ease through the trails, pausing at a sandstone outcropping to enjoy the views. The rising column of smoke across the valley didn’t yet look threatening.
The significance only registered later in the settlement of Liberty when my fuel pump expired and the sprint began to beat the fire over the pass.
The heat of the afternoon radiated through the arid valleys, baking the Rovers. Faced with another long, steep climb through winding canyons we relaxed along the banks of the Wenatchee River until the temperature cooled. As long velvet shadows emerged we began our ascent. Pushing through stands of Ponderosa pine in the darkness, we rose above the tree line and camped beneath a glimmering sea of stars on the barren summit of Chumstick Mountain.
For three more days we rose and fell through the dusty swells of the Cascades, camping in shady nooks and cooling down in rivers and lakes. Shifting winds brought a haze of wildfire smoke down from Canada. Our route twisted through skeletal forests of scorched trees, their denuded trunks hulking like a thicket of spindly gravestones. We had found the solitude and peace we sought, pausing to explore the ruins of a decaying homestead cabin before traversing Skull and Crossbones Road.
A steep descent put us back on pavement and suddenly a windswept border crossing appeared from the sagebrush. The customs agent was perplexed why we only wanted to drive one kilometre into Canada and then turn around. Six days after leaving Seattle we had settled the question, demonstrating that a garden variety Discovery could easily handle the rigours of the Backcountry Discovery Route. Not wanting it to be over, we contemplated retracing our path, but the obligations of daily life called. On the drive home we plotted future explorations, agreeing that Frank would host our next back country journey in Alaska. Oxnxexxoxf owning a Land Rover is that the adventure never ends.