When I stuck my head out of my sleeping bag on the last day of August, the air was cold. You have to expect it to be a bit cold at 6,000 feet in the Olympic Mountains, even in August. 
  When I unzipped my sleeping bag a mile north of Marmot Pass, my hands brushed the inside of the tiny tent and I was showered with shards of condensation from 10 hours of exhaling. Ice? 
  It had been cold the night before when I went to bed. Except for boots, I slept fully clothed. I crawled out of my new tent, pulled on my new boots, and looked around at the new day. 
  Gray clouds shrouded Mount Deception and Mount Fricaba. I considered the prospect of rain and looked at my thermometer: 27 degrees. In panic, I grabbed my water bottles. Mostly ice. Just enough liquid left for one cup of coffee. As I boiled the water, it began to snow. 
  I knew it was going to be cold. Except for not taking gloves, I was prepared. But snow? At least it wasn’t wet. 
  Each year, I tell myself I’ll make a scouting expedition before hunting season. Each year, I don’t get around to it. This year, though, I had new boots and other gear I wanted to try out. 
  Two years ago, my hunting partner and I day-hiked south toward Marmot Pass on the Tubal Cain Mine trail for the opening of the early deer hunt in Buckhorn Wilderness south of Sequim. Heavy rain and wind discouraged us and we did not go as high as we knew we should have. The few does we saw were above us and moving higher. We knew the bucks were higher still. 
  This year, I want to hunt those heights above Copper Creek, but you can’t get there from here. Landslides closed the forest service roads to the trailhead. I’d have to go in on the Marmot Pass trail up the Quilcene River. 
  It was to be a two-night trip, but heavy rain on Sunday caused me to remember important things I needed to do at home, so I spent the day cleaning out the basement. 
  A man who had just come out of the mountains told me nights are cold, more September than August. I added a thermal undershirt to my pack. 
  Monday was also wet, but it was then or never. The rain ended as I pulled into the trailhead parking lot just after noon. 
  I don’t backpack often enough to be comfortable with more than 40 pounds. I started off with a 43-pound pack, then added my deer rifle. 
  I didn’t need the rifle for a scouting trip, but I’d never carried one with that particular pack and wanted to figure out the best way to sling it. Besides, I have a cougar tag in my wallet, and you just never know... 
  The trail is all uphill, a 3500-foot altitude gain in 5.3 miles. The first mile north of Marmot Pass is almost level. I averaged only one mile an hour with frequent stops over the 6.5 miles. I stopped at the first almost level place I came to. 
  I forgot only a few things. I’d brought nothing to read and no eating utensils. My backpacking checklist is a work in progress. 
  Lack of fork and spoon is not a problem except in polite society. If it’s too thick to drink, you can pick it up with your fingers. Tent stakes do double duty as steak forks. Those trail meals you make by pouring boiling water into the plastic bags the meals come in? You can drink ‘em right out of the bag. 
  I snapped a photo of myself and my camp as the sun shone golden for a moment between cloud and mountain. It was the last shot on the roll. That’s when I remembered my other film was still in the truck. 
  I didn’t forget coffee. I never forget coffee. Brewed up 12 ounces of Puerto Rican espresso, washed down my chicken-and-noodles-in-a-bag with it, and went to sleep a few minutes later. 
  My scouting expedition Tuesday morning was successful. I saw 23 deer, many marmots, three grouse, two eagles, and one bewildered ant. I saw no people until I was on my way out. 
  I came out in two and a half hours with only one stop. Only then did it begin to rain. 
  Best of all, my new boots don’t hurt my feet.