Lost in Washington: Why Blaine Stopped Chasing Summits
How Lost in Washington Became a Story About Hiking Slower and Noticing More
Lost in Washington sounds like a name Blaine came up with after years of disappearing into the mountains.
He didn’t.
When he grabbed @lostinwashington, hiking barely figured into his life. The name came from feeling lost in a much less scenic way. He’d spent years feeling displaced, overlooked and not quite sure where he fit. The handle was free, it felt right, and that was enough.
Then hiking gave it another meaning.
These days, getting lost in Washington usually involves mountains, lakes, deep snow, more water than most people would willingly carry and a small plush trail partner called Marston. Blaine still loves going somewhere unfamiliar. He’s just in much less of a hurry once he gets there.
That shift started with his first summit.
The first summit gave him the itch
Blaine remembers reaching his first summit and almost immediately wondering what was next.
It would’ve been easy to turn hiking into a scoreboard from there. More peaks, more trails, another box ticked before moving on. He realised pretty quickly that he liked the days less when the destination became the whole point.
“I quickly realized that chasing summits or checking boxes can make you miss the quiet beauty in every step.”
So now he goes back.
Washington makes that easy. Snow can completely rewrite a familiar trail, autumn changes the colour and different light can make the same lake feel new again. Sometimes Blaine notices something he walked straight past the first time because his brain was already standing on the summit.
He still likes reaching the top. He just doesn’t need a new one every weekend.
His pack got heavy before he had much hiking experience
Before Blaine got properly into hiking, he spent weeks watching I Shouldn’t Be Alive and studying how small mistakes turned into very bad days.
Apparently, he took notes.
“From day one, I’ve carried more water, backup food, and emergency supplies than most people think is necessary.”
His pack runs heavier than most and he’s fine with that. Running out of water more than once helped settle the argument.
A few extra kilos don’t feel quite as offensive once you’ve experienced the alternative. He’s not trying to win some imaginary preparedness contest. He just likes having room for the day to go slightly wrong without everything falling apart.
In May 2024, that margin stopped being theoretical.
The snowshoe that got serious fast
Blaine headed onto the Maple Loop near Lake Ann expecting a fairly straightforward snowshoe. He’d started late, temperatures were climbing and the snow was already changing.
Then he started seeing avalanches.
Six, by his count.
Near the first views of Lake Ann, one came towards them. Blaine ran, the person with him slipped, and a short trip turned into roughly six hours of working their way back out.
They covered about two miles.
“It was a nightmare.”
What’s interesting is that Blaine still loves snow. The experience didn’t scare winter out of him. It just killed any temptation to confuse beautiful with friendly.
“Snow has taught me more about my own limits and fears than anything else. It is ethereal and breathtaking... and also the most dangerous condition I hike in.”
That day explains a lot about the way he prepares now. Not panic. Just margin, and a healthy respect for how quickly conditions can outrun the original plan.
It’s also exactly the kind of shift our winter hiking safety guide is built around: noticing when snow, traction, visibility or timing are starting to change the day before they make the decision for you.
Blaine still thinks snow is magic. He just knows it has teeth.
He got better at staying for the good bit
There’s something slightly ridiculous about hiking for hours to reach a beautiful place, taking six photos and leaving five minutes later.
Blaine’s gone the other way.
If the weather and daylight allow it, he’ll stay at a lake, summit or viewpoint for a couple of hours. Light shifts. People come and go. The place changes while he barely moves.
That patience found its way into his photography too.
“I try to capture landscapes the way my heart and eyes experience them the first time.”
It also makes his last-minute trail decisions make more sense. Blaine might choose the destination the night before, but spontaneous doesn’t mean careless. He checks the route and conditions, packs for it and goes.
Once he gets there, the rushing stops.
One of his old hiking partners understood that rhythm. Their time together in the Enchantments still stands out because neither of them needed to fill every quiet patch with conversation or turn the day into a performance.
“Those partners are rare, and they’re gold.”
Eight hours with someone you don’t feel obliged to entertain is hard to beat.
Then Marston showed up
Marston entered the picture on July 28, 2023, when Blaine spotted him in the flagship REI store in Seattle. He picked him up, named him before leaving and somehow walked out with a tiny trail partner who’s since ended up in places no plush toy had any business expecting.
The photos are funny, but Marston isn’t really about the joke.
“I was pretty broken when I started hiking. I was teaching myself, as an adult, how to play again.”
That’s where the little guy fits.
Hiking gave Blaine something he cared deeply about, but even good things can get overly serious if you let them. Marston kept a bit of play in it.
Blaine calls him “the lightning in my heart.”
Their first hiking weekend also involved a digestive emergency in the North Cascades, almost no privacy and Blaine clinging to a tree on a steep slope while trying not to turn an embarrassing problem into a rescue problem.
Marston got the full trail-partner induction early.
The fall stayed with him
Some trail stories get funny with distance.
The fall didn’t.
Blaine fell down a mountain, and even after the physical part healed, his confidence didn’t snap back with it. Ground he’d once crossed without much thought suddenly made him pause.
He kept hiking, but rebuilding that trust has been slower and messier than the usual outdoor comeback story where somebody gets hurt, learns something profound and returns stronger by the next paragraph.
Some days are better. Some movements still make him hesitate.
We like that Blaine doesn’t try to polish that into something neater than it is. Fall down a mountain once and your brain’s allowed to remember.
Why he still gets up and goes
None of the rough days seem to have dulled the pull.
Blaine’s run short of water, seen avalanches, had a fall shake his confidence and spent six hours getting out of a snowshoe that barely covered two miles. Then there’s the North Cascades tree incident, which can remain in its own category.
And he still wants to go back.
“In a relatively short time I’ve collected a lifetime of memories. It feels like I’ve already lived more years than the calendar says.”
That probably explains it better than another summit story could.
Hiking seems to have changed the way Blaine experiences time. A couple of hours beside a lake can leave more behind than an entire week that disappeared into routine.
“I take time, feel time, and create meaning with it.”
That feels much closer to what Lost in Washington means now. Not escaping life, but finding somewhere he’s properly present for it.
Before you head out
Blaine’s pack isn’t something we’d copy item for item. The useful part is the breathing room behind it.
Enough water that getting the distance slightly wrong doesn’t wreck the day. Food left when things run late. A layer for the weather that wasn’t supposed to show up. Navigation that still works when the trail gets vague.
He might pick the destination the night before, but he’s not winging the important stuff. There’s a difference between spontaneous and hoping for the best.
We’d approach our own pack the same way. Cover the boring basics first. If one of those is missing, our Trail & Travel Essentials is where we keep the bottles, light layers and simple trail bits we’d actually reach for. The point isn’t carrying more gear. It’s having fewer stupid little problems decide the day for you.
Leave yourself some margin, then forget about the pack and enjoy where you are.
Final take
What stayed with us about Lost in Washington wasn’t the miles, the summit count or even the properly ridiculous amount of water.
It was the way the name changed with him.
Blaine chose it when he felt genuinely lost. Hiking didn’t magically tidy everything up, but it gave him somewhere to slow down, pay attention and find a version of himself that felt a little more at home.
Now he’ll repeat trails, sit beside a lake for hours, respect the snow without loving it any less and take Marston along because adulthood is serious enough already.
That’s why Blaine belongs in our Inspiring Explorers series. Not because he’s trying to collect extraordinary achievements, but because the outdoors changed what a good day means to him.
Maybe Lost in Washington fits better now than it ever did.
Just for completely different reasons.
Lost in Washington FAQ
Who is Lost in Washington?
Lost in Washington is Blaine, a Washington State hiker and outdoor photographer who shares his trail days as @lostinwashington, often with his plush trail companion Marston.
Why is he called Lost in Washington?
Blaine chose the name before hiking became a big part of his life. It originally came from feeling displaced and unsure where he fit.
As hiking became more important to him, the name took on another meaning: going somewhere unfamiliar, slowing down and finding a bit of himself along the way.
Who is Marston?
Marston is the small plush trail companion who regularly appears in Blaine’s photos.
Blaine found him at the flagship REI store in Seattle in July 2023, and he became a reminder to keep some playfulness in something Blaine otherwise takes pretty seriously.
Does Lost in Washington hike in winter?
Yes. Snowshoeing and winter hiking are a big part of Blaine’s time outside.
He loves how snow transforms familiar places, while a serious May 2024 snowshoe near Lake Ann also taught him just how quickly winter conditions can change.
Why does Blaine carry such a heavy hiking pack?
He prefers carrying extra water, food and emergency supplies rather than packing around the assumption that everything will go perfectly.
Watching outdoor survival stories before he became a serious hiker helped start the habit. Running short of water himself made it stick.
Why does Blaine repeat hiking trails?
Because a familiar trail rarely stays the same.
Snow, seasons, weather and light can completely change a place, and Blaine would rather experience that than treat a trail as finished just because he’s walked it once.
How does Blaine approach outdoor photography?
He likes giving a place time.
Rather than reaching a viewpoint, grabbing the photo and leaving, Blaine will often stay and watch the light, weather and people move through the landscape before deciding what he wants to capture.
What happened after Blaine fell while hiking?
The fall shook his confidence more than he expected.
He kept hiking, but trusting himself on certain terrain has taken time to rebuild. He’s open about the fact that the mental part didn’t disappear just because the physical fall was over.
What’s the point of Lost in Washington now?
Probably less about being lost and more about making enough room to notice where you are.
The summit still matters. It’s just not the only part of the day worth remembering.