More skiing!

Well there's more winter, isn't there?

One last trip in home territory before going back to work - into the Baker backcountry for a trip to Mt Ann, a place I haven't been since my second-ever glacier climb up the Fischer Chimneys on nearby Mt Shuksan in 2002. It looks very different in the winter to be sure! A mid-week day with not a lot of new snow meant we saw almost no one, and a bit of a crust from some sunshine meant the travel was easy. Nice.

Up and over the ski area, across some flats, up the flanks to the ridge of Mt Ann (avoiding the skin track set right under a huge cornice being warmed by the sun), and along to the summit, where we deemed the skiing too steep (telemark [v] : Finnish word meaning "ack, it's too steep!") and too icy to be fun, booted up to the top and enjoyed the view before sliding back down on our butts. The greater part of having fun is knowing when to call it.

The skiing down was a little crusty to be really enjoyable, but we made some nice arcing turns and enjoyed being out in the pristine snow and beautiful weather. Sunshine and warmth - it must be spring! The days are getting longer, and we're looking forward to the opportunity for some longer tours.

But for now, I'm off to Nepal, to lead the Everest Base Camp trek for Alpine. Work is great, but it does so get in the way... *grin*

And back again

But in the Northwest, winter has come early. There's plenty of snow to cover up most of the rocks, and plenty of motivation to get out: the dark time is upon us here in the Cascades, and we have to get out, because the alternative is to hibernate. And skiing is really much more fun.

As a side note, my frequent trips between Seattle and Bellingham often involve use of the train, a very pleasant 2-hour ride along the coast for around $29. But this time my skis were already in place, and a mid-day transit made much more sense, so I actually took Amtrak - on the bus. Yes, Amtrak has a fair amount of bus service, and it turns out to be quite pleasant and in duration, for only $20! The buses seem to be contracted private coaches, so they're more like bus travel should be. Highly recommended.

This time we headed up to the snow with a couple other skiers/snowboarders. Between the five of us we had all sorts of snow travel combinations, so the bigger-the-group-the-slower-the-travel rule kicked in. A couple miles of logging road, a little tree-dodging, up a couple avalanche chutes (appropriate precautions taken), and finally to the rounded top, Cascade peaks all around. Beautiful.

Of course, there's still the down, and we ended up skiing the last of the logging road in the dark (which is not recommended). The two dogs with us had worked much harder over the day, being without skis in unconsolidated snow, and were possibly happier than we to see the trucks when we finally reached them. As a climbing partner once said: Any day where no one gets hurt is a good day in the mountains.

Good to get one last dose of snow before heading south. As I write this (belatedly), it is currently dumping again in the Cascades. Two feet of forecast snow, followed by a warming trend and heavy rain. A recipe for unstable snow, and a good time to be in the Southern hemisphere...

SNOW!!!

Most people have probably heard by this point about how strong a La Nina winter this is supposed to be, and here in the Northwest, how cold and snowy that is supposed to make our mountains. It seemed to be coming true in September, when we got plenty of new snow on Mt Rainier, and it is continuing to show such a trend, with some significant snow above about 4000' in the North Cascades.

Coming back from the east, with three more days off before returning to work, we did a little cycling and indoor climbing as the weather turned cold and rainy, then went to check out the mountains, hoping that the rain had indeed been good snow up high, as rumored.

Indeed. Hiking up to Skyline Ridge, close to Mt Baker, we topped out at 5800' and, lo and behold, there was about 18" of rained-on consolidated base, with 2-3" of new, smooth, fluffy snow on top, just waiting for us to ski it. Four skiers and boarders were there just ahead of us, but their tracks helped provide some depth perception in the otherwise featureless white surface the snow becomes in clouded conditions.

The inevitable first-of-the-season gear shakedown meant that I forgot mine and was using Dave's skins while he tried his new short "kicker" skins that don't cover the whole ski, just the part underfoot. They worked pretty well and he patiently took a less-steep path to climb back up after each run. Down the steeper part, across a bench, and down to the thicker trees. Skins on, hike up, and repeat. Good skiing in November, who'd have thunk it?

A bit of a storm is moving through this weekend, with very cold temperatures, including a good chance of snow in the city. Really? In November? Sounds like it's time to wax the skis and put the chains in the car. Winter, here we come!

End of summer

Sometimes summer lingers in the Cascades. There's a good rain at the beginning of September when everyone resigns themselves to going to school, work, and the returning darkness, but then it continues to be sunny through much of September and a little of October, letting those of us who can continue to play.

Sometimes it doesn't.

Word is a La Nina winter is coming, which in the northwest means more precipitation and colder temperatures than normal. Read: a good snow year. To those hoping to climb Mt Rainier in September, however, it means little hope of success this year. As of the end of this trip, no one had summited the mountain in 10 days, and it doesn't look likely in the next few.

Last week a bunch of snow fell over the course of a storm or two, and the mountain now looks ready for winter, fully cloaked in snow. This means snow angels are possible, but avalanches are as well; up to four feet of fresh snow are sitting on top of a smooth crust with the potential to slide. Not a big deal on a small slope, but on a big one, with a crevasse not too far below, it is a risk to be weighed carefully, especially when leading clients on the mountain. On my most recent trip (and last of my season), it was raining and blowing 90 miles an hour at Camp Muir at 6am. We left camp going down, not up.

But there's no such thing as bad weather, just bad clothing (well, sort of). The fall rains aren't the end of outdoor recreation, just a shift. Dave and I went for a drizzly hike up a grunt of a peak near Bellingham, and instead of flowers and mountain views, were rewarded with blueberries, a bear sighting, and plenty of solitude. What more can you ask for? When your hands get cold from picking berries, you can just hunker down and do it like the bears do...

That's the end of my Cascade season, and I'm ready for a little more stable weather. Next up, it's time to head to Nepal for Alpine's Everest Base Camp trek again. No Island Peak climb this time, just walking in more beautiful mountain terrain.

Four days

With six days off together in late August, Dave and I had planned a big trip, way back into the North Cascades, one of those climbs where only the first few hours are spent on a trail. In two days, climb the alpine rock route for two days, find our way out by a different cross-country route for two days. Mt Terror - mmm. But having learned our lessons about impending inclement weather and trying to cram too much into time off, we decided to change objectives and do a slightly shorter climb of equal quality - the NE buttress of Mt Goode. (Goode instead of Terror - see, we're learning...)

We drove to the trailhead on Rainy Pass the night before, looking up toward the Pickets and feeling good about not wandering around in the rain. Starting out at the PCT south trailhead, our path soon veered off that trail and up a side valley, away from the likelihood of encountering other people. Sixteen miles in, camped at the end of the trail by a beautiful river, all to ourselves. Next morning, bushwhacked and scrambled up 2000 feet to another amazing campsite, settled in, and then walked up to the start of the climb to make sure the glacier would let us pass. A few cracks to step over, but getting onto the rock was assured. Next morning we were up before light, moving early so as to start the rock climbing at first light and maximize our daylight travel time.

The NE buttress of Mt Goode is a classic but not often done route in the Cascades. It's a good ways in, and the route itself, while not necessarily difficult, is long and committing. It is 2800' of rock climbing, and retreating partway up would involve leaving a lot of gear behind. The way we went, when you reach the top you have to go down the back side of the mountain and walk all the way around, to the top of another small glacier which you descend to get back to camp. But it's in a fantastic setting, way up an unpopulated wilderness valley, long and beautiful and remote. The only people we saw were two hiking in as we were hiking out the last day.

We moved pretty well on the third- to fifth-class terrain, roped the entire time but with more or less protection as the steepness of the rock dictated. Close to the top we came across a bivy site perched on the edge of the ridge with melting snow just retreating from the edge - a perfect place to melt water and replenish for the second half of the day: getting down. On a long, hot day, it's more efficient to carry two pounds of Jetboil stove and fuel than to carry countless liters of water at two pounds per liter. We filled up all our water bottles and scoped out the decent notch before continuing on to the summit.

The Cascades continue to be one of the most beautiful places I have ever been. From the top we could see snowy volcanoes, lakes and valleys, and a sea of peaks in every direction. It is in a different quarter than most of the climbing I have done, so mountains are rearranged and showing a different side from this perch. It is staggering to think of how many things there are around us to climb, but the sun continues to move through the sky and we must begin our descent. Rappel, scramble, rappel, walk down a gully, cross some snow, hike up, cross more snow, ascend to a small pass, rappel, downclimb 50 degree snow to the glacier... turn on headlamps. Weave through crevasses, dodge more crevasses, watch the full moon rise, skirt a rock band, arrive at the slopes just above camp. Camp.

Next morning, we took a little time to appreciate the beauty of this place that cannot be described, only taken in. Then packed up, made our way back down to the valley trail, and hiked the 16 miles back to the trailhead. The beauty of a sleep-in-able vehicle is that we didn't have to go anywhere, just to sleep and listen to the returning rain on the roof of the truck.

Where does the summer go??

Wow. One or two trips, a personal climb, another three trips, and all of a sudden it's three weeks later. Summer is too short, or perhaps too long, given how much I try to pack into it. Three months is a long time to be chronically sleep-deprived...

The Cascades got a ridiculous amount of snow this winter and spring, so all of the glaciers and snow slopes are still in excellent shape. This means that crevasses and ice that would normally make routes longer (having to go around them) or more technical (it's harder to climb a given angle of ice than of snow) are still covered in snow. It makes our guiding days a little shorter and a little easier; right now we have conditions that are more typical of late June/early July than of August. It's nice.

I got to climb the Kautz route (new for me) on Mt Rainer for Alpine Ascents, do a couple more laps on the Disappointment Cleaver, the standard route, and take some climbers up Mt Baker. In between, with some of that precious time off, Dave and I took a day to climb the south face of the North Twin Sister, close by Bellingham. It's a fun, relatively easy climb in a beautiful setting, and we didn't see anyone else the entire day. Perfect weather, beautiful climb, easy climbing partner - these things all help recover mentally from so much taking care of other people while guiding. Nice.

Also crammed into these three weeks was the RAMROD, Ride Around Mt Rainier in One Day, a 150-mile, 10,000' elevation gain road ride organized by a local cycling club. I remember hearing about this early in my Washington life, and thinking that this was something for people with an entirely different idea of fun than I. How was it? Fantastic. Apparently climbing is good cross-training for cycling. Tiring, yes, but I wasn't dying to get off the bike by the end, and the route goes through some really beautiful areas, both in and out of the national park. The best part? I started up a Rainier climb the next day with little more than tired muscles. Ha!

So that's a glimpse of summer in the Cascades. So much to do. Such limited time in the sunshine. It's a good thing it starts to rain again sometime in September/October, or we wouldn't be able to keep up with our bodies! Sleep is good...

Bonanza!

Mary and I had been talking about this mountain, highest non-volcanic peak in Washington, for a while, and she had been there previously with a friend who convinced them not to bring the right equipment.  It's located on the eastern side of the Cascades, and we decided to go the long way,  22 miles through an area called Spider Gap which I'd heard was beautiful, instead of the "short" way up Lake Chelan and through Holden Village.

Forecast: Hot and sunny.  Sweet!  We crossed over Spider Gap early the second day to some amazing clouds pouring over the mountains to the east.  Beautiful meadows down below, amazing alpine lakes, and dramatic peaks for a backdrop.  Hmm.  Wonder what those clouds are going to do...

On the third day we bushwhacked around the head of the lake and up the classic Cascade configuration of scree field, rocky cliff, start of glacier, crevasse navigation, and dicey transition to rock.  We'd heard many things about the rock - loose, hard, easy... In the end, it was a great 4th class scramble (ie no ropes needed, but don't fall) up fun features to the sharp ridge and summit.

Unfortunately, the vista that greeted us as we gained the ridge included a big thunderstorm not too far away and headed, yes, directly for us!  We don't get thunderstorms much here, hardly at all, but the unusually hot weather was breeding cells in the east that were moving west.  

After a few minutes on the summit trying to convince us both that it wasn't headed straight toward us, we got off there as quickly as possible - I had never had a near thunderstorm experience, and was entirely OK with that!

The rain started as I headed down the first rappel, light and sound coming closer and closer together as the storm moved in.  I was at the next station getting the rope sorted out when that characteristic buzzing started (more like a series of tiny pops between the metal in my helmet) and saw and heard the strike at exactly the same time.  Looking up 150' of rope to where Mary was still perched on the ridge, just 40' below the summit, I yelled up, "Are you OK??"  She was, though we're both pretty convinced it hit the summit, just meters from where she was.  Wow.

She came down and we continued rappelling as the rain eventually stopped and the storm moved on.  Another cell just side-swiped us, dropping a little rain but no big strikes.  Whew!  We took our time down the rest of the route, making our way back to camp in the dark.

The walk out gave us more of the afternoon-rainshower experience as we passed many dayhikers from nearby Holden on our hike out the long way.  My favorite image: five cotton-clad hikers smooshed in next to a tree trunk, doing their best to hide from the downpour and stay warm before making a 6-mile dash for it.  I donned my garbage bag-cum-rain skirt and we walked on...

Cascades

Six-day courses, a backpacking catch-up trip, and a climb for fun - time flies when you're running around like the proverbial headless chicken.

Nice to come back from Denali to some nice days - the first weather-cooperative glacier course of my season was a great distraction from Alaska.

Then to the Enchantments with Lin. Neither of us had been to this limited-access, quota-governed, much-talked-about area, so off we went, no climbing due to my wrenched shoulder from a bike mishap. It's beautiful, it's true, but there are a lot of beautiful places in the world, and I've been to many of them. It is amazing for its access and proximity to I-90, but similar to other high alpine zones. We spent a valuable couple of days catching up from winters spent elsewhere, enjoying the lake and quiet.

On to Rainier with Rob and Erin and her friend Wolf. Despite working on the mountain quite often, it was nice to climb with friends, people who I'd trained with before and looked forward to hanging out with. Erin's friend's knee took him down early, but we had a beautiful summit day with few others around - nice to have the mountain largely to ourselves.

Now off for a little more work before some play time...