In the cold steady rain at Paradise, the parking lot was host to two kinds of climbers: those returning from Camp Muir after being weathered off, and those glancing upward into the fog wondering if they should even try. Joel Arbic and I were in the latter group, plodding slowly up the trail, hoping that the weather would change for the better. Joel met an aquaintance from Phoenix at Panorama Point. She happened to be climbing with the guide service, and we ran into her at various intervals along the way.

As we hiked higher, the clouds gradually began to thin out, and we had a nice band of sunshine at Muir. The summit, itself, was still obscured. Here, we roped up and moved out across the Cowlitz Glacier and up to Cathedral Gap. As soon as we got around the base of Cathedral Rock, the wind came whipping down on us. Our big packs acted like sails, and we staggered around in the loose volcanic dirt. We decided that setting up a tent in these condidtions would be too risky, and reluctantly retraced our steps back to Camp Muir.

After a few hours of “sleep”, I started boiling water for coffee at 1:00am. Even at this early hour, we could see headlamps snaking up the route. We started at 2:45am. My headlamp burned through two sets of batteries, and I was left in the dark just before traversing the base of Disappointment

Cleaver. Luckily, Joel had purchased a couple of batteries before we left, and that gave me the light I needed to make it through this tricky section. The wind grew more frigid as we struggled up the Cleaver, and we tightened our parka hoods.

After about 6½ hours, the rocks of the crater rim finally came into view. We were exhausted. It was snowing lightly, and it was hard to tell where the crater stopped and the clouds began.

As we were sitting on the crater rim contemplating our descent, a solo climber materialized out of the fog and approached us. He was older than the average climber, or maybe his tanned leathery face just made him look that way. He spoke with a heavy French accent:

“When you get back to Camp Muir, could you tell the rest of my party that I’m okay? I left them three days ago with only a small amount of food, but I found some food up here in the tunnels, so I’m okay. I’m going to take more measurements in the grotto.”

We could see the wide, flat expanse of the crater, but there was no tent in sight.

“When you get back to Camp Muir, could you tell the rest of my party that I’m okay? I left them three days ago with only a small amount of food…”

“I’ve been staying in the steam caves. It’s not as good as a tent, because the snow keeps blowing in and burying me, but I like blizzards.”

Normally, I don’t talk much with other folks, especially at 14,000′, but this was so bizzare, I was determined to figure out what this guy was doing up here.

“You found food? Up here? You’re taking measurements where?”

“I was here 3 years ago, and I stashed some food in one of the tunnels under the crater. It took me a long time to find it, but I did. I find a lot of climbing gear down there. It melts through the snow and ends up in the caves – I found an airplane last time I was here!”

He used plenty of gestures as he spoke, and, after a very animated conversation, we found out that he was part of a French team of volcanologists studying the sulfer emissions of Northwest volcanoes. He had just come from the “grotto”, which is a lake under the snow of the secondary summit crater – a place so rarely visited that many are not fully convinced that it even exists.

Just as we said our goodbyes, one of his colleagues appeared. He had just soloed up the mountain to see how things were going. We left the two Frenchmen chattering and gesturing on the crater rim.

Popularity: 12% [?]

Chip and I completed our second annual hike, and despite blowing out a tire enroute to our destination, it was a resounding success. We ventured out in front of Mount St. Helens to see what we could see. Much of our hike followed the Loowit Trail, which circles the mountain.

The Plains of Abraham were dry and dusty as expected, but we were surprised by the thick patches of lupines that dotted the otherwise desolate landscape. Chip and I could look back at Spirit Lake and see where much of the initial landslide ended up.

We turned around at Loowit Falls. Most of the snowmelt in the crater cascades down these falls, and the waterway is heavily eroded. Unfortunately, the crater was filled with clouds, so we didn’t get a very good view into the gaping mouth of the mountain.

Popularity: 4% [?]

The first mile of this trail is very popular on hot summer days, because it runs right along Denny Creek. There were dozens of kids playing in the water where the trail crosses the stream.

I made my way up to Melakwa Lake on this hot Sunday afternoon, pausing frequently to drink from my water bottle. As I huffed and puffed up to Melakwa Pass, I thought it would be a great idea to stop and swim in Chair Peak Lake. I quickly decided against this plan, however, when I discovered that much of the lake was still covered with ice!

The view from the top of Kaleetan was spectacular. I met two other guys on the summit, and they told me about an alternate route that starts right at Melakwa Lake. I managed to follow this different route on the way down, and went for a swim in the lake. I drank all of my water on the way up, so I suffered mightily on the way back to the car.

Popularity: 4% [?]

Lassen Peak is the southernmost peak in the Cascades. The Sierra Nevada Mountains start 10 miles further south. It erupted many times between 1914 and 1915, and steam regularly wafted from its crater until the 1940s. During one of the larger eruptions, debris was blown over five miles into the air, and ash fell as far away as Reno, Nevada.

Jason and I hiked to the top of the peak. The trail is in very good shape, and is quite popular. There was a little bit of snow left at the top, and we could just barley see the summit of Mt. Shasta to the north.

We had enough energy to explore the blasted remains of the crater. Walking through the debris was like trying to negotiate a rugged maze. The hardened lava was sharp, and the boulders scraped away at our boots. Afterwards, we all enjoyed a nice swim in Lake Helen at the base of the peak.

Kendall Vanhook Bumpass was the first explorer to witness the bubbling and steaming thermal activity near Lassen Peak. Unfortunately for Bumpass, he fell into one of the boiling pools and lost his leg from the burns he suffered. This area has been known as “Bumpass Hell” ever since. Poor Bumpass.

We stayed on the boardwalk. All of the mud pots and sulphery fumaroles reminded me of Yellowstone.

Popularity: 4% [?]

We drove through the middle of Nevada on what is called the “Loneliest Road in the World”. About the only people we saw were workers laying miles and miles of fiber optic cable across the state. We finally arrived at our campground late in the afternoon and grabbed the last site available. The campground was situated at 10,000 feet amidst a beautiful forest of aspens. The night sky was vividly clear, and I watched the stars for a long time.

In the morning, Jason and I got out of our sleeping bags early to hike up Wheeler Peak. The summit rises above 13,000 feet, and it’s almost the highest point in the state. After about a mile of hiking we startled about a dozen deer meandering through a meadow.

At about the halfway point, Jason decided to turn back since he was feeling the effects of the altitude. I continued to the top, and met a hiker from Germany. He told me that this was “his first 4,000 meter peak”, and he was very pleased. I gazed down at the only glacier in Nevada. It looked like the entire glacier could’ve been swallowed up by a single crevasse on Mt. Rainier!

Later in the day, Scott and I hiked to a grove of Bristlecone Pines. These trees are gnarly and ancient. Several specimens have been found that approach 5,000 years in age! In the early 60′s, the US Forest Service inexplicably granted permission to cut down one of the more well known trees named “Prometheus”. After it was studied, it was determined to be the oldest living thing on earth – at least it used to be. When the general public heard this story, the outcry was great, and this was one of the sparks that started today’s environmental movement.

Before departing, we took the full tour of Lehman Cave. It was discovered in 1885 by rancher Absalom Lehman. The limestone formations are very impressive, and I think this cave is more richly decorated than any I’ve seen before.

Indians used this cave as a burial ground, but they didn’t venture much further than the entrance. The Indian remains were removed when Lehman started giving tours, but in 1992, the Park Service re-buried them in the cave.

Popularity: 4% [?]

It has become traditional to conclude the hiking season with some sort of incredibly strenuous bash. What better way to put one’s hard won hiking prowess to the test? With these lofty goals in mind, Wayne carefully crafted the idea of a “Marathon Hike”. Either that, or he just slapped something together one night after having way too much beer.

We started our hike before the crack of dawn, in order to take advantage of every last ounce of daylight. The breeze around Snow Lake was chilly, but the sun finally filtered through the mountains and warmed us as we climbed to Gem. Here, at our initial rest stop, the Advil bottles made their first of many appearances.

The route between Gem and Melakwa lakes is without a trail, so we made our own way. Chair Peak Lake still had mini icebergs floating in it, and we walked carefully up some hard-packed snow to Melakwa Pass, the highest point of the trip (5400′).

We hopped from boulder to boulder beneath Kaleetan Peak amidst the occasional squeaks from nearby picas. We continued to loose elevation beyond Melakwa Lake down to Tuscohatchie, knowing full well that we would need to regain much of the precious altitude we were loosing. The group stopped briefly for lunch at Pratt Lake, and took the opportunity to refill water bottles. The trail, which can sometimes be overgrown, had been nicely cleared for us by trail mainenance crews.

As engineers are wont to do, George and Wayne both took copious notes at various intervals along the way. The data will undoubtedly undergo intense computer processing to derive accurate pain and suffering factors. George made sure we knew exactly how much time we could rest at each of our stops.

Beyond Mason Lake, we were once again obliged to trudge up another ridge. This time it was Mt. Defiance. Then it was down to Lake Thompson on a path that sees very few hikers. The huckleberry bushes were turning red, and the huckleberries, themselves, were plentiful.

Climbing out of Lake Thompson, we could look back at Kaleetan Peak where we had been much earlier in the day – a million miles away. The final six miles are entirely on logging roads. This is “The Death March”, and everyone was focused on pretty much one thing – making the legs move. I found myself wishing they had made this road out of something a little more cushiony.

After 26 miles and 13 hours we made it to Will’s van, and officially concluded the hiking season. Now, it’s time for the post-season!

Popularity: 4% [?]

When early October rolls around, it is time, once again, to visit the golden Larch trees in the Enchantments. After meeting in Leavenwoth, our ragtag group slept at the Ingalls Creek trailhead to get an early start on Friday. In the morning, we walked for several flat miles along Ingalls Creek, and then made the abrupt turn to follow Crystal Creek. The flatness was immediatlely replaced by steepness, and we labored under our heavy packs.

The four of us arrived in a large, perfectly flat, basin just as the sun went behind the hills for the last time. We had been wandering through impressively large boulders all afternoon, but at one end of the basin sat the mother of them all: a monstrous granite hulk. Dwarfed by the big rock, we paused to eat some food before the final push to Crystal Lake.

Finally, as the rushing waters of Crystal Creek swept past us, we came to the shore of Crystal Lake at an elevation of 7000 feet. The chill in the air stole through our hiking clothes, damp with perspiration. We walked to the tip of Rune Lake, before stopping for the night, and quickly changed into warmer garb. The night was beautiful with stars, and we were warmed by hot chocolate mixed with Bailey’s Irish Cream.

In the morning, Rolly and I hiked to the top of Little Annapurna. The weather looked questionable as grey clouds rapidly boiled over Aasgard Pass. The surrounding peaks were obscured, off and on, by the threatening greyness, but it was only a ruse, for the afternoon gave way to bright blue skies. From the summit of Annapurna (8400′), Rolly and I could look down on the flat basin we had walked through yesterday, and the masssive boulder that previously towered over us was only a black speck today.

Rolly and I met Scott and Gary on the far end of Rune Lake, and we dropped our packs to take a side trip up to Gnome Tarn – one of the premiere vistas in all of the Enchantments. The dry summer had taken it’s toll, as we found the tarn with only a small amount of water. The view was still spectacular, and we watched as 6 rock climbers completed the final pitch to the summit of Prusik Peak. Gary had scouted out a great campsite overlooking Rune Lake. We whiled away the rest of the afternoon soaking up the sunshine.

The sun sets early this time of year, and it was pitch black by 7:00pm. The night was loooooooong.

The morning arrived just as it had the previous day – with threatening clouds and a chilly breeze. We made our way into the Upper Enchantments, and I found myself wishing my gloves weren’t buried deep within my pack, as my fingers gradually grew numb.

Just as we were thinking, “Wow, it feels like it could snow”, some light flurries came floating down on us. We were surprised to come across three ptarmigan on the trail in front of us. The birds never flew, but darted from rock to rock maintaining a discreet distance. On our way down Aasgard pass, we saw some mountain goats as well.

Back in civilization, we happily concluded our Enchantments epic with a customary dinner at Gustav’s in Leavenworth.

Popularity: 6% [?]

After a long stretch of rainy weather, the clear, starry sky that greeted us this morning was a welcome early Christmas present. By the time we picked up Kenny in Puyallup, we were over a half-hour late. “Thought you guys were doggin’ me,” he mumbled as we pulled up. All five of us squished into my car, and we continued the familiar drive down to Mt. Rainier. We started our hike where Kautz Creek crosses the road a few miles below Longmire. We were happy to find that the trail, although snow-covered, was by far the easiest route to follow. The path eventually faded away, and the snow grew deeper, so we put on our snowshoes and continued marching uphill.

Rolly, Doug, and I shared the duty of breaking trail, occasionally consulting “the poor man’s GPS” that dangled from a keychain on the back of Doug’s pack.

We wound our way through trees that resembled giant pillars of snow, and finally made it to the top of a ridge, where Rainier burst into full view. Our planned destination, Pyramid Peak, looked like it was still a million miles away! We pushed on, but as our turn-around time neared, it became clear that Pyramid Peak would have to wait for another day. Instead, we headed up the nearest summit, which happened to be Mt. Ararat. The view was outstanding.

We made it back to the car by dusk, and even though we didn’t get quite as far as we had hoped, a good time was had by all.

Popularity: 3% [?]

October is a good hiking month, because the air is crisp and the fall colors are at their best. The first weekend of the month was predicted to be sunny, and eight of us got our gear ready to leave for the Enchantments on Friday. An “advance party” of five departed first thing Friday morning, while three of us, Rolly, Scott, and I, couldn’t get away until the afternoon. Since the sun sets early in October, we were likely going to be hiking in the dark.

The three of us started from the Snow Creek trailhead at about 3:30pm. Rolly and Scott were listening to music on their new mini-disc players, while I was just huffing and puffing. The plan was to take the main trail for 5 miles to Nada Lake, then turn off at just the right spot to go up Nada Creek – a route that very few people ever take. The advance group said that they would mark the off-trail route with pink ribbons so we could find them, and sure enough, halfway around Nada Lake, a pink ribbon awaited us.

At this point, the route gained elevation quickly, and Rolly got his altimeter out to monitor our progress. We had no idea where the advance group had decided to make camp, but, according to the map, the first likely spot was 1100 feet above us. We made our way from pink ribbon to pink ribbon, and just as the sun was setting, we were stopped by a 50 foot granite face. Trailing down the rock cliff was a yellow waterski rope that Gary had fixed for us. We each took turns pulling ourselves up the slippery nylon cord. By the time all three of us had completed the pitch, it was dark, and we put on our headlamps.

In the dark, it didn’t take us long to lose the pink ribbons. So, we just made our own way, pausing frequently to pan our headlamps across the steep terrain looming above us. At one point we were forced into a narrow crack in the rock, and had to remove our packs so we could squeeze through. Eventually, Rolly’s altimeter showed us nearing the flat spot 1100 feet above the lake, and we gave a couple shouts. No response. Five minutes later, we shouted again. This time we heard someone yell back, and we knew we had managed to find the advace party. Moments later, headlamps came toward us and guided us to camp where we were greeted by the rest of the guys.

The following morning, the eight of us marched our way through areas of the Enchantments not often visited. Our boots crunched across ice in many places, and as we climbed we became surrounded by the famed golden larch trees. We went over Musky Pass and down into the Lost World Plateau, where we explored some of the lakes. We made our camp at Shield Lake. A side trip up to the Lorelei Lakelets took us through a glowing forest and across terraces of white granite. Rolly, Gary, and I got out of our sleeeping bags early on Sunday morning to catch the sunrise at Prusik Pass. We made our way around Shield Lake by headlamp, and reached Gnome Tarn just as the sunlight started to illuminate the trees at the base of Prusik Peak. On our way back to camp, we spotted a pair of climbers ascending the West Ridge of Prusik. The leader had just reached the “Friction Pitch”, which is the crux of the climb. Since each of us had climbed this route before, we knew exactly what he was staring at – a seemingly blank face with absolutely no place to put protection. It is a spot where you swallow hard and put complete faith in the stickiness of your climbing shoes. You try not to think about the fact that a fall would slam you into the ledge below before the climbing rope would have a chance to catch you. Even from where we were, we could hear him exclaim after he successfully grabbed the top edge of the ridge, “Wow, that was scary!”.

Rolly, Gary, and I returned to the car via Nada Creek while the others hiked over to the main trail, and went out via Snow Lake. We retraced our steps back to the waterski rope and did the tricky rappel. The nylon was slippery, so a tight grip was necessary. To our dismay, the rope became stuck, and even with all of us pulling, we could not retrieve it. Rolly volunteered to solo back up the cliff to get the rope, which he did. Upon returning, he realized that he had inadvertantly left one of his gloves at the top of the pitch. So up he went, unroped, knowing that a fall would be the rough equivalent of jumping from a three story window. Not a problem for Rolly though. When he got back down to earth, he said, “OK, now I want to try it with my heavy pack on!”.

Popularity: 4% [?]

Fast forward three years, and the same scene is playing out in the parking lot, but this time, it’s us with all the noisy metal hardware and Liberty Ridge is our destination.

Doug Grose and I arrived at the White River Campground only a few days after the road was finally opened. We had been anticipating this climb for months, and were very excited to finally be underway. The sun was out and the skies were blue – a rare sight this year. We hiked through Glacier Basin and on up to St. Elmo Pass. We dropped down onto the Winthrop Glacier, and roped up to cross what few crevasses there were. After the Winthrop, it was over the base of Curtis Ridge, and down onto the Carbon Glacier.

The Carbon Glacier is often heavily crevassed, but in this year of heavy snow, most of the crevasses weren’t open yet, and we had little trouble navigating. We gained the base of Liberty Ridge via a short, steep snow chute, and we were on our way.

By this time however, fatigue was setting in, the air was getting thinner, and we were moving slower and slower. Our pace was hampered even more when we started using running protection. This involves the leader pounding in an anchor and threading the rope through it. When the follower arrives at the anchor, he calls out, and the leader places another. Eventually, the follower has collected all of the anchors, and he must leapfrog to become the new leader. In this way, we were always anchored to the snow in at least one spot. We would use this technique for the next vertical mile.

As dusk settled over the mountain, our high camp at Thumb Rock was only a short distance away, but it took us forever to get there. I was seriously bonked, even though we had been careful to take frequent breaks for food and water. We finally arrived at 10:00 PM, after 15 hours of hiking. There were two parties already there: one was holed up in a snow cave, while the other had pitched a tent. There was just enough room to place our tent, but it was practically touching the other guys. Oh well, sorry.

The following morning, we were immediately presented with a tough pitch of mixed rock and ice. Doug led it cautiously and placed our first ice screw. Our heavy backpacks, the steep slope, and the thin air all worked together to slow us to a snail’s pace. We protected the route well. Some pitches required all the gear we had: 4 pickets, 2 flukes, and 3 ice screws.

The weather was good except, that is, for the summit. The top of the mountain was consumed in boiling clouds. It looked like high winds and poor visibility were waiting for us at the top. A large boulder crashed down from the Black Pyramid, as we approached it, and I kept a wary eye out for more falling debris as I passed beneath the crumbling cliff.

I found myself thinking about my precarious position. Standing on the tips of my frontpoints, I could look between my boots to the Carbon Glacier 6000 feet below.

Above 13,000 feet, we climbed into the clouds. Fatigue was really beginning to take its toll, and we were nodding off as we stopped to belay eachother. I frequently splashed snow on my face to stay awake. Finally, we arrived at the bergschrund: the last real obstacle before the top. It wasn’t wide, but it was icy. I led up past the schrund and onto the ice. As I struggled to place a screw, I found myself thinking about my precarious position. Standing on the tips of my frontpoints, I could look between my boots to the Carbon Glacier 6000 feet below. A slip here would send me hurtling back over the bergschrund. After falling about 60 feet, I would hit my first picket. Would it hold? I wasn’t sure. A 60′ fall could very well pull it out, then it would be up to Doug to catch me with his belay, but he’s half-asleep. If he should get pulled of his stance, then our last hope would be his two anchors – they would have to hold both of us. At last, the pitch was complete. Doug followed and disappeared into the clouds above me. The slope finally relented and, together, we trudged the last few steps to Liberty Cap. A short distance down from the Cap, we found a flat spot to put the tent, and we wasted no time in setting things up. We were exhausted after 12 hours of climbing. As night fell, we each made a phone call to our kids.

Both of us slept well, and we awoke to bright sunshine. What a blessing! We packed up and hiked over to Columbia Crest for some pictures before making our descent. The snow was awfully soft by the time we hit Camp Schurman, and we were a couple of zombies by the time we finally slogged back into the parking lot.

Popularity: 4% [?]