Trip Report: Exum Ridge on the Grand Teton

Galen Weld October 16, 2026

Every summer, when Becca and I visit her parents in Wyoming, we take her dad up a climb in the Tetons. For years, ever since we climbed the Owen-Spalding in 2020, he's been excited about climbing the full Exum Ridge (Durrance Direct), but I've always hesitated, worried that we would be a gongshow in a group of three on a very popular route. This year, however, he planted the seed far enough ahead of time that we couldn't say no. We picked a midweek day, but I was still nervous - I was watching the weather station at the Lower Saddle all week, and the winds had never gotten below 40mph gusts, with temperatures barely above freezing. It sounded chilly!

Since I was worried about timing, I proposed that we camp the night before for an earlier start. Everyone agreed, so I grabbed a permit for one night of camping at the Moraine camp from the Park Service. Our plan was to hike in a few hours, camp, and start moving at first light the next morning. We were all geared up to head out after lunch when Luc threw a curveball - he announced that he had too much work to do, and so would get up at 3am the following morning, hike up by headlamp, and catch us at camp before dawn. I was torn - on the one hand, clearly a single push is a prouder climb. On the other hand, getting up early sounded unpleasant. My laziness won out, and so Becca and I set off from Lupine Meadows, just the two of us.

We made quick progress up to the Meadows, but as we poked above treeline into the alpine, the wind picked up and it was pretty bitterly cold. We hurriedly layered up, then found a nicely sheltered campsite in the lee of a big boulder. We had just enough time to grab some water from the Middle Teton Glacier before it got dark, and after a quick dinner, we settled into our cozy sleeping bags to await Luc's arrival.

Becca “enjoying” the evening scenery at the edge of the Middle Teton Glacier, looking east down Garnet Canyon

Alpenglow on the Middle Teton on the way back from fetching water

Stars above camp, with the lights of Jackson Hole far below

Becca and I were still finishing breakfast when Luc arrived out of the still-dark morning, ahead of schedule, despite battling some headlamp issues at the trailhead. We set off as the alpenglow was just beginning to illuminate the Middle Teton far above us, and we were almost to the Lower Saddle by the time the sun popped over the horizon. The sun felt great, warming us from the frigid wind, and the sunrise was gorgeous, with the shadow of all three Tetons cast over the hills to the west. There were a few parties heading up towards the Upper Saddle, but when we cut off towards the Lower Exum, it appeared as though we had the route to ourselves. We went back into the shade as we traversed along the Black Dike, and with the wind buffeting us, it was quite chilly. Becca was scrambling in her gloves, and by the time we reached the base of the first pitch, she asked me to lead the route. Desperate times call for desperate measures, I guess.

Dawn alpenglow on the Middle Teton and glacier

Becca and Luc before sunrise, on the way up to the Lower Saddle

First light from the Lower Saddle, looking down Garnet Canyon

Frigid scrambling to the base of the Exum Ridge

I set off up the first pitch, and we moved pretty efficiently, simuling most of the route. I felt as though the routefinding was fairly straightforward, with mostly class 3/4 climbing between the occasional few moves of low fifth. As we got a little higher we emerged back into the sun, which raised spirits, and by the time we reached the base of the Black Face, Becca was even warm enough to take her gloves off! The views were stunning, and the Black Face was fun climbing, and we reached the end of Wall Street (and the start of the Upper Exum) by 11. We continued simuling 'til past the Friction Pitch, then unroped and soloed the rest of the route, finally bumping into another party just below the summit.

Becca on one of the lower pitches of the Lower Exum, with sweet views of the Middle Teton

Luc and Becca climbing “the Black Face",” with Garnet Canyon far below

Becca and Luc (rope hidden) approaching Wall Street and the start of the upper section of the route

We downclimbed the Owen-Spalding, and I belayed Becca and Luc down the icy Sargents Chimney, then we made one rappel down to the Upper Saddle, and started the scramble back to the Lower Saddle, heading through the Eye of the Needle on the way. At the Lower Saddle the wind gusts were strong enough to knock us off our feet, so we wasted no time continuing our descent. We said hello to a mountain goat above the headwall handline, then packed up our camp and headed down the the Meadows and back to the trailhead, arriving home with enough time to make dumplings for dinner. A great day!

Becca rappeling to the Upper Saddle, with Lake Solitude in the distance

Trip Report: Tatoosh Traverse

Galen Weld September 22, 2026

After returning from the Adirondacks, Becca, Helene, and I had the weekend marked down to all go on a trip together, but once again, the weather looked a bit iffy. We set our eyes further south, to Mount Rainier National Park, where the weather looked a bit more promising. With my recent spate of bike shuttled trips, I eyed the Tatoosh, where Stevens Canyon Road looked like it would make for a fun and fast (almost all downhill!) bike ride to complete the loop of a Tatoosh traverse. Between a new forest fire and soaking wet fog, the weather didn’t quite pan out how we’d hoped, but we still summited all 10 of the summits along the ridge that we were hoping for, and had a great time. The bike ride back to Longmire was a really fun way to finish the trip, which we did in two days, but it would make for a great longer day trip as well - highly recommended!

We drove down the night before and dropped our bikes at the Snow Lake trailhead, then headed back up the road to find a discreet spot to snooze for a bit before starting our trip Saturday morning. While the ladies snoozed, I got up before sunrise to see if I could snap a few photos along the Stevens Canyon Road. The canyon was full of fog below Louise Lake, which made for some fun exploring, and some textured high clouds added to the excitement. As I returned to our camp, 30 or so minutes after sunrise, I heard a few distant thunderclaps. As we packed up, they moved closer, and then it began to rain, gently at first, then a short-lived torrential downpour. Just as the rain was tapering off, there was a spectacular flash of lightning followed immediately by incredibly loud thunder. Not the “oh cool! a thunderstorm!” type, but the instinctive-duck-and-cover-your-head type of thunderclap. An ominous start to the day!

The roads were still soaking wet as we drove down to Longmire, stopping to enjoy a nice view of the clouds burning off over Lane Peak, and a quick stop at Narada Falls.

Clearing clouds in front of Lane Peak, on the drive down to Longmire

We rearranged our gear at the trailhead, then set off up the Eagle Peak trail, sweating in the humid forest. We dropped our packs a few hundred feet below the end of the official trail, and headed up to the Eagle-Chutla saddle, which was still surrounded by swirling clouds. We scrambled up to the summit of Eagle Peak (easy but exposed) just as the clouds were beginning to clear, and then headed over to Chutla, where we were charmed by a loafing marmot on our way to the summit, also an easy scramble.

Becca and Helene scrambling up to the summit of Eagle Peak

We headed back down the trail to grab our packs, then set off on a short but steep sidehilling traverse along the west slopes of Chutla, picking up a steep climbers’ trail just below the Chutla-Wahpenayo saddle. By now, the skies were bluebird, and Rainier loomed massively across the valley. We stayed close to the crest of the west ridge of Wahpenayo, following a climbers’ trail to the summit, where we got our first views to the east along the rest of the range. It was on the summit of Wahpenayo where we first saw the brand new forest fire presumably started by that morning’s lightning strike, less than a mile and a half away, burning just below the summit of Plummer Peak. I quickly called the Park Service dispatch to confirm they already knew about the fire, and as we watched, a helicopter flew up the valley to the south and dropped off a crew of firefighters, then headed over to Cliff Lake and began to drop water on the fire, which was smoldering on the ridgeline. We confirmed that the NPS hadn’t closed the Pinnacle Peak Trail or Stevens Canyon Road, and so decided to continue with caution.

Helene and Becca heading towards the summit of Wahpenayo

A helicopter dropping water on the Plummer Peak fire

Although not too difficult, the route from Wahpenayo over to Lane Peak was probably the most difficult part of the traverse. We stayed just on the north side of the ridge as we headed east from the summit of Wahpenayo until reaching the 5,950 foot notch about .4 miles NE of the summit, where we dropped steeply off the ridge down a gully to the south, and made a descending sidehilling traverse to the two small lakes at 5,000 feet in the bottom of the basin. We filled water, admired the many bear tracks in the mud around the lake, then started up towards Lane Peak, where Helene immediately startled a bear. At 5,600 feet on the southeast side of Lane Peak, we picked up another climbers’ trail, and dropped our packs to go tag the summit, which I thought was a really fun class 3/4 scramble, with a delightfully exposed summit ridge. As we headed up, an even larger helicopter arrived, and we watched the crew countless laps between Cliff Lake and the fire for the next two hours.

Helene and Becca just below the summit of Lane Peak, with Wahpenayo, Chutla, and Eagle peaks in the background.

A Blackhawk owned by High Performance Helicopters fills water in Cliff Lake to drop on the Plummer Peak fire… according to its registration, this helicopter is almost 50 years old and still working hard!

The travel east from Lane Peak was quick, easy, and beautiful walking. We followed the climbers trail along the crest of the range, dropping packs to tag the summit of Denman Peak (and easy walk up), and then headed over to Plummer Peak, where we ran into the first folks we’d seen since leaving the official trail that morning. From the summit of Plummer, we gazed down to the site of the fire, which appeared completely extinguished—exciting!

Becca and Helene just below the summit of Plummer

With sunset closing in on us, we hurried over towards Pinnacle Peak, crossing the very top of the still-busy Pinnacle Peak trail. We dropped packs once again and scrambled up the south face to the summit as the light was starting to get nice.

Becca and Helene scrambling up the southern slopes of Pinnacle Peak, with Plummer in the background

Helene and Becca enjoying the view on the descent

We hoped to tag the summit of The Castle before sunset, so we wasted no time scuttling along the climbers’ trail to the east, scrambling up the short cliff band on the south side of The Castle and dropping our packs in its southeastern basin. 30 feet of class 4 brought us to the top of The Castle as beautiful clouds flowed between us and Rainier to the north.

Helene and Becca traversing the southern slopes of The Castle, with Plummer in the background

Helene and Becca scrambling up the last few feet to the summit

Helene and Becca on top of The Castle in the last bit of evening light… gorgeous!

As darkness fell, we hurried along the ridge towards the nameless lake west of Foss Peak, which seemed like a reasonable camp site. I couldn’t resist grabbing out my tripod on trying some long exposure shots of the clouds blurring in front of Rainier in the last light of the day, and we settled into our sleeping bags feeling tired and happy about the great day we’d had.

Blurred clouds in this long exposure taken from near our camp

We woke up in the morning to the gentlest patter of water on the tent fly. I poked my head out at sunrise to find that we were completely socked in, so we snoozed for a while longer before finally getting up and getting moving. The vegetation was so drenched that it only took about 10 steps before our shoes were absolutely soaked, and we could only see about 50 feet ahead of us. Spirits were somewhat dampened, but we soldiered on, over the summit of Foss Peak, and down its south ridge into the talus basin below Unicorn.

Helene and Becca, smiling because they are still warm and dry in the tent. It won’t last long.

…and trudging down towards Unicorn Peak.

It seemed as though it was trying to clear up, but we still hemmed and hawed about bailing on Unicorn. We rallied, and started up the loose morainal bullshit towards the Unicorn-West Unicorn saddle in the middle of a sucker hole that vanished as soon as it arrived. We scrambled up the short scrambly step above the saddle, then walked up easier terrain to the summit block of Unicorn, where we deployed a quick belay for the last few moves of low-fifth to the summit, which was still shrouded in clouds.

Helene and Becca about to tackle the last few moves of climbing to the summit of Unicorn

We made two short rappels (one off the summit, one back to the saddle), then headed down the talus basin towards snow lake as it actually cleared up. Classic. We passed a few climbing parties on our way out, then had a pleasant walk back to our bikes at the trailhead.

Descending Unicorn towards Snow Lake as Rainier finally emerges from the clouds. Foss at upper left

Becca and Helene had fun keeping a running tally of all our summits!

The bike ride back down to Longmire was really a delightful way to finish off the trip, flying down the highway with the wind in our faces and great views at every corner.

Becca and Helene flying past Christine Falls on the ride back to Longmire

Trip Report: A Week in the Adirondacks (Saint Regis Mountain, Giant Mountain, and more)

Galen Weld August 21, 2026

Last week Becca and I went to upstate New York to visit family in the Adirondack Mountains, where my Dad grew up. I’ve spent a week there just about every summer since I was tiny, but Becca and I missed it last year, so it was awfully nice to go back this time around - I had forgotten how much I love the Adirondacks! In addition to my family, we had several Adirondack first-timers in our midst: Helene and Becca's parents. In classic Adirondack fashion we had a mix of good and bad weather, and got up to a bunch of different activities: sailing, canoeing, hiking, running, and climbing. Here are some of the highlights!

One of my absolute favorite things to do in the Adirondacks is watch the sunrise from the summit of Saint Regis Mountain. Saint Regis Mountain sits in the middle of the Saint Regis Canoe Area, a large wilderness area with countless ponds and creeks, and on many summer nights a low lying layer of fog often settles overnight and burns off when the sun comes make, making for stunning patterns that are different every single day. The old fire tower on the summit of Saint Regis makes for a great spot to watch the fog from. Becca and I hiked up by headlamp early one morning and watched the stars (and Perseids!) from the summit before catching the sunrise.

Stars above the Saint Regis fire tower in the early morning

First light on the fog above Upper Saint Regis Lake, with Whiteface Mountain in the distance

The fog makes for super cool patterns with the forest in the early morning light

I’ve watched countless sunrises from Saint Regis and it never gets old

The next day we set out for a canoe trip with Becca’s parents, paddling from Upper Saint Regis lake through Spitfire Lake and Lower Saint Regis Lake into the Saint Regis River, then carrying back from Keese’s Mill into North Bay on Upper Saint Regis to complete the loop. We stopped at the excellent rope swing along the river for some fun at our lunch break, then got caught in a torrential thunderstorm downpour on the last leg of our paddle - quite memorable!

Becca launching off the end of the rope swing

Helene carrying a canoe back to Upper Saint Regis Lake

Taking shelter from the rain on the shore of the lake

Helene and Luc are experienced climbers who hadn’t been to the Adirondacks before. We wanted to pick a sporting climb to introduce them to the fine world of Adirondack "alpinism," and a slide climb seemed like just the thing. One of the unique features of Adirondack geography are the many "slides" throughout the range, places where all the vegetation and and topsoil has slid completely off the mountain, leaving behind a (hopefully) clean ribbon of smooth bedrock slabs all the way to the summit.

We eyed the Bottle Slide on Giant Mountain, just across the Ausable River valley from the Great Range, which promised nice views up a new-to-us route on a familiar summit. Many of had climbed Giant several times earlier, including a memorable trip with Becca in February of 2016 during an utterly frigid midwinter cold snap. As you might expect with a slab climb, the difficulty of slide climbs can be dramatically increased during or after wet weather, when the surrounding vegetation seeps water onto the slide. One person on SummitPost remarked of the Bottle Slide "I’d not want to challenge it in wet conditions," so, when it poured torrentially the night before we planned our climb, we ... naturally didn't change our plans in the slightest.

Nine of us set out from the Roaring Brook trailhead on Thursday morning, and we made the quick side-trip over to check out Roaring Brook falls, which looked quite nice in the humid forest, and then continued up the main trail toward the upper falls overlook, where we spotted some vibrant red mushrooms sprouting out of the forest floor. When we returned later that afternoon on the way out, they had emerged noticeably further from the litter. Cool!

Dad sampled the red mushrooms and said they were quite tasty!

After hiking ~1.75 miles from the car, at 2,600 feet, we reached a cairn that marked the turn-off for the slide approach. Here we said goodbye to Mom, Kathy, and Gaile, who had (perhaps wisely) decided that the slide climb was not for them, and planned to take the trail and meet us on the summit. The remaining foolhardy six of us set off into the moist forest, where 3/4 of a mile of bushwhacking up Roaring Brook separated us from the base of the slide. Many folks online said that this bushwhack was the most challenging part of the trip, and indeed, we faced thick brush, steep loose dirt faces, slick moss, and plenty of flowing water in the streambed. After about 90 minutes, we reached the base of the slide proper, where we stopped for some lunch.

Becca and Adam walking up Roaring Brook on the approach.

The very bottom of the slide was mostly covered in moss and was wet and slippery. Adam and I scuttled ahead and watched from above as the rest of the party made their way onto the base of the slab with varying degrees of grace and fear. The whole thing was about 800 vertical feet tall, maybe 100 feet wide on average, and pretty sustained at around 30-35 degrees, with a few steeper seams and overlaps. For us, the crux came about halfway up, where a large wet seep that ran the full width of the slide pushed us into the marginal vegetation to climbers' right, where we mostly hand-over-handed ourselves up green belays to bypass the seepy part. The rest of the climbing was fun (in my opinion) with straightforward slab climbing intermixed with maneuvering to stay on the cleanest, driest parts of the face.

Adam making quick work of the clean, dry rock on the lower part of the slide.

Luc leading the pack below the crux middle seepy section

Helene hauling herself up some marginal vegetation, with fear in her eyes

The slide ends about a hundred vertical feet below the summit, where it's capped by a steep and intimidating headwall. We followed a brushy climbers' trail to the right, traversing below the headwall, as we looked for a sub-fifth-class way to surmount it. After a good bit of traversing and exploring, we finally found one: an airy but easy traverse on a good foot ledge followed by a few juggy moves of exposed third class. Over on the true summit, Kathy watched from a distance with bemused amusement. We popped out onto the North Trail just a hundred yards from the summit, where we were soon reunited with the various moms, who had arrived there hours before us.

Dad dispatching the airy foot traverse on the headwall, just below the summit.

We all enjoyed the hike down the trail together, and capped the day off with a traditional stop at Donnelly's ice cream outside of Saranac Lake. If you ever find yourself in the Adirondacks, I wouldn't necessarily put the Bottle Slide on your must-do list, but definitely stop at Donnelley's!

Donnelly’s ice cream is a local institution

The rest of the week went by super fast. Additional highlights included several early morning paddles to watch the fog burn off the lake, sailboat racing with my Dad (we did well but I managed to drop my phone in the lake), and another hike up Saint Regis Mountain. As always, there’s too much to do and not enough time!

Morning fog on Upper Saint Regis Lake makes for some incredibly calm, quiet, and peaceful paddling conditions.

Canoeing in Bear Pond with Dad, Becca, Gaile, and Luc.

The Golden Retriever waited patiently for his owner (not Becca) to go up the fire tower on Saint Regis

Luc and Becca got to practice their spinnaker runs in the K6 after the race on Saturday afternoon

Trip Report: High Divide to Yellow Aster Butte (with Bike Shuttle!)

Galen Weld August 18, 2026

It’s suddenly mid-August (how did that happen??) which means I am once again filled with a deep-seated fear that I haven’t spent enough time this summer gallivanting through alpine meadows full of wildflowers. In a partially-successful attempt to assuage this fear, last week, before we headed off to the Adirondacks, I snuck out for a quick overnight up on High Divide, north of Mount Baker. I dropped my bike at the Yellow Aster Butte Trailhead before driving a short way back to the Excelsior Trailhead, then hiked up to Excelsior Pass, along High Divide, and continued past Welcome Pass along the unofficial trail to Yellow Aster Butte and down to my bike. I then rode the 9 mostly downhill miles on dirt and pavement back to my car to complete the loop. This is really a great trip that stays mostly above treeline along the ridge with awesome views in all directions! I’d recommend it to anyone.

I didn’t leave town until the mid-afternoon and got on the trail after 17:00. It was nice to have shade as I cruised up the gently trail to Excelsior Pass, then popped out into meadows just below the pass, where I found a little trickle of water to refill and carry for camp. From here, the route stays above treeline until past the Gold Run Pass trail junction past YAB, for almost 10 miles of constant views - awesome!

First views of Baker from below Excelsior Pass, with some lingering smoke that cleared out as the evening went on.

The trail was covered in millions of grasshoppers which all jumped as I walked past them, creating a moving wave of bouncing insects colliding with my legs, one another, and the adjacent vegetation. The flying bugs traveled through the air in a manner vaguely reminiscent of the mouse trap scene from Mouse Hunt.

Grasshoppers covering false hellebore flowers

I waded through the grasshoppers up to Excelsior Pass, then started my ridge romp, starting by climbing over the top of “Excelsior Peak” and continuing east. The views just got better as the sun dropped lower, and after three miles, my pace slowed as I grabbed out my tripod to start snapping flower photos. The sunset was lovely, I continued along the trail at dusk, passing a party camped near Welcome Pass. I continued another 3/4 of a mile past Welcome Pass and found a pleasant campsite on top of a bump just as it was getting truly dark. I ate some dinner, set up my camera’s self timer to take some star photos while I was peacefully asleep, and crawled into my homemade sleeping quilt and bivy sack.

Lupine above the Quartz Creek valley, with Mount McGuire across the border in Canada in the distance.

A panorama looking north into Damfino Creek, with Damfino Peak on the left, Tomyhoi at middle left with the Border Peaks behind it, and Welcome Butte (Pt. 5845T) with sun on it closer by.

A Galen solo trip wouldn’t be complete without some dorky self-portraits.

Evening alpenglow on Baker from 2/3 of a mile west of Welcome Pass.

The Milky Way looms over Mount Baker in this composite image - one exposure at night for the stars, with the foreground blended in from a second exposure taken just before sunrise.

I got up before sunrise and made breakfast, then packed up to hit the trail before the first light tickled Baker’s summit. I dropped into the notch just east of camp and climbed up onto Keep Kool Butte as the first rays of sunlight lit up the Mazama Glacier. It was an absolutely gorgeous morning, the views changing with every turn in the trail. At the summit of Keep Kool Butte, I looked down into the familiar tarn-filled basin below Yellow Aster Butte, which I had last visited on a ski trip in January 2025 - it sure looked different in midwinter! I descended into the tarn basin, snapping more photos, then climbed up onto the main Yellow Aster Butte trail and traversed over to the trail junction below Gold Run Pass. Here I put away my camera gear and jogged down the trail to the trailhead a bit past 8:15.

Another day, another dorky self-portrait

Fireweed on Keep Kool Bute, with American Border Peak and Larrabee to the right

Jagged Ridge close-up, with Seahpo at the left, and Nooksack tower at right

Flowers on the ridge descent down to the tarn basin, with Yellow Aster Butte backlit in the distance, with Larabee’s summit barely poking out behind.

Shuksan reflected in one of the many tarns below Yellow Aster Butte

Old mining equipment below Keep Kool Butte, in the background.

Monkeyflowers along the creek, with Shuksan in the distance.

I threw all my stuff in my panniers and set off down the Twin Lakes Road on my bike, enjoying the cool breeze in the pleasant forest. After hitting the highway, it was a fast few minutes of cruising down 542 back to the Excelsior Trailhead before 9 am. What a great way to start the day!

Bike loaded up and halfway down the Twin Lakes Road

Trip Report: Foggy Trail Running on Kaleetan with a Chair Peak Attempt

Galen Weld August 14, 2026

The weekend before last, once again the weather in the Cascades was pretty soggy. What’s with the gorgeous weeks and cloudy weekends? To make the most of it, Matt, Eric, Becca, Sophia and I decided to stay a little closer to home and headed up to Denny Creek for a romp up two of the spikier Snoqualmie Pass area summits. It ended up being pretty cloudy with some rain, so we ultimately bailed on Chair Peak but still had a great day.

We set off from a damp-but-not-raining Denny Creek trailhead after dropping a car at Alpental to increase exit possibilities. The clouds were thick above us, and the trail was pretty quiet past the waterslide. At the outlet of Melakwa Lake we crossed the creek and headed up the climbers’ trail towards Kaleetan, quickly climbing into the clouds. It was beautiful in an atmospheric sort of way, in and out of the fog, and before long we reached the short easy gully scramble to the summit in a total whiteout.

Traversing some talus towards the final scramble up Kaleetan

Becca and Matt on the summit of Kaleetan, enjoying the great views

We had a hankering to descend Kaleetan via the White Ledges to the east, which would make our descent down towards Melakwa Pass and our approach to Chair Peak more direct. None of us had ever climbed the White Ledges, the visibility was only 100 feet or so, and we had done minimal routefinding research, but we set off nonetheless, downclimbing east from the summit into the fog. After some steep and chossy class 3/4, we were confronted by a cliff, and after poking around, we decided to just climb back up to the summit and descend the standard route. We downclimbed the South Gully and continued down the climbers’ trail until about 1/5 of a mile south of the summit, then downclimed a short steep obvious gully into the talus filled basin between Kaleetan and Chair. Armed with Beckey’s brief description of the route of the West Face of Chair, we were below the clouds and filled with a renewed sense of optimism.

Foggy downclimbing on the east side of Kaleetan

Matt and Eric attempting to scope a route down through the cliffs…

While Becca and Soph look on from above, unimpressed!

Descending the gully off of the standard route up Kaleetan

Walking through the talus below Melakwa Pass, which is behind folks in this photo.

We climbed up some easy loose talus until at the base of the face proper, then started scrambling. The climbing was clean and easy at first, but after only a few hundred vertical feet, it steepened and became looser. It started to rain lightly, making the slabs quite a bit slipperier, and Becca knocked a multi-microwave size block by barely touching it. All of these factors combined to suggest that we should bail, and bail we did, downclimbing back to the basin quite carefully on the wet rock.

Becca, Matt, and Soph climbing talus below the West Face of Chair Peak, with Melakwa Lakes in the distance and Low Mountain behind.

Becca traversing some steeper rock on the West Face of Chair, with Kaleetan shrouded in clouds to the left.

Back in the basin below Melakwa Pass, we walked through talus down to Melakwa Lakes, then ran the trail back into Denny Creek and down to the car, stopping for a quick (and not warm!) dip in the Snoqualmie before heading back to town.

Heading around Upper Melakwa Lake on the way out

Matt and Eric cooling off in the Snoqualmie River near the car

Trip Report: Floral Scrambling on Columbia Peak

Galen Weld August 11, 2026

The Monte Cristo area is awesome: it has fascinating mining history, isn’t too far from Seattle, and has remarkably rugged and glaciated summits, despite their relatively low elevation. Despite all this, I’ve not spent very much time in the region, having only climbed Kyes Peak as a spring ski trip with Matt in 2023. When I heard my friend Mike was visiting from out of town last week, it seemed like a good opportunity to go tag a new summit, see some new views, and hopefully enjoy some flowers. Helene rounded out our group, and we decided to do the climb as two half-days, so that we could camp above Twin Lakes.

To speed up the approach, we loaded three bikes onto my car, and set off from Barlow Pass around 16:15. We made quick work of the old railroad grade, but crossing the Sauk with my touring bike loaded down with camping gear was a bit tricky. A few chunkier sections of the trail also made for some excitement with my 32mm tires, but we made it to the ghost town of Monte Cristo in about an hour, with plenty of berry stops.

“PROCEED AT YOUR OWN RISK! Snohomish Country does not warrant the bridges or the road for vehicular traffic.” Helene is unphased by the old railroad grade into Monte Cristo. Astute readers will note this photo was taken on the exit.

Helene was excited by the old railroad turntable at Monte Cristo, which still turns freely despite being over 125 years old.

We locked up our bikes and headed up the trail to Poodle Dog Pass, popping out above treeline and getting our first great views of the surrounding mountains. The trail along the ridge towards Twin Lakes was gorgeous, with sights in all directions, including Wilmans Spires, which look quite impressive. We rounded the corner and saw Twin Lakes below us, and descended about halfway down to the lakes where we found a nice secluded campsite. We dropped our stuff, then I headed back up to the West Peak of Twin Peaks, just a bit too slow to catch the last of the evening light.

Helene on the trail to Twin Lakes, with Wilmans Spires at left and Columbia at right.

Helene and Mike in the basin above Twin Lakes, with the West Face of Columbia behind them

Evening light on the far side of Twin Lakes, with Spire Mountain and Gunn in the distance.

After a lovely (and dewy!) night of camping, I got up before sunrise and headed down to the shore of Twin Lakes to watch the first light of the day hit Hubbart Peak across the far shore. We had breakfast and packed up camp, then headed back up the trail for ~1/2 a mile to where it was easy to cross back onto the east side of the ridge. We dropped our camping stuff and set off with light packs for Columbia, picking up a climbers’ trail on the East Ridge of Twin Peaks, and following it through heather and flowers to around 6,300 feet where we encountered a small buttress.

Flowers on the way up Columbia, with Twin Lakes below. Note Rainier poking out at middle right.

Cool volcanic rock and flowers on the way up

I thought the route here was actually not as straightforward as I expected, and we hemmed and hawwed a bit before climbing up talus on the left side of a snow patch before traversing back climbers’ right on a beautiful flower-covered ledge to access an obvious gully guarded by a single class 4 move at the bottom. Above this, the climbing was easy with great views up the low angle gully, although neither Mike nor Helene liked the loose rock. About 50 feet below the summit we wrapped around to the north for the last few moves to the top, which we reached at 10:15, 2.25 hours after leaving the trail and going at a slow pace.

Helene was awed by the flowers on the ledge we traversed.

Mike and Helene scrambling up the final gully, far above Twin Lakes

Glacier Peak, Monte Cristo, and Kyes above the Columbia Glacier as seen from the summit

Flowers on the summit with great views down to Twin Lakes

We started down at 10:30, with Mike and Helene taking a sporting head start. We made it down without any trouble, recollected our camping gear, and set off the trail back towards Poodle Dog Pass. We spent a few minutes back at Monte Cristo sniffing around the old town site, then hopped on our bikes and enjoyed a very pleasant ride back to Barlow Pass.

Helene downclimbing through more flowers

And back along the ridge to the Twin Lakes Trail

Trip Report: Sunsets and July Skiing on Ptarmigan Ridge

Galen Weld August 8, 2026

Two weeks ago I wanted to go get a little bit of skiing in, and figured I might as well make it an overnight, so I brought along my friend and labmate Rongwu for his first ever backpacking trip out on Ptarmigan Ridge, where we had tons of flowers, a stunning sunset and a little bit of unforecast overnight sprinkles.

Heather on Ptarmigan Ridge, with Mount Baker in the distance

Cool clouds, with Golden Ears in the distance across the border in BC

Rongwu scampering up a little summit in the morning

Dramatic morning light on the ridge below Coleman Pinnacle

Lupine in the morning sun, with Table Mountain in the distance

Paintbrushes on the south side of Table Mountain

Trip Report: Climbing the Roan Wall and Salish Peak

Galen Weld August 5, 2026

Two weeks ago Becca and I found ourselves pivoting hard after the weather looked worse on Slesse than we were hoping for. We decided (with some gassing up from Matt) to head to Darrington and try our hand at a linkup of two nearby ~10 pitch routes up Squire Creek, an area that Becca and I had never climbed in before. After a long and not too fast approach we arrived at the base of the Roan Wall as the surrounding mountains were all still shrouded in clouds, but nonetheless had a grand time climbing Center Stage. We arrived at the top of the Roan Wall and decided we didn’t have time to climb the second route that we were eyeing, Flight of the Falcon, but for sport we decided to drop our technical gear and scramble up to the summit of Salish Peak. We descended back into the Squire Creek drainage before it got dark, but still had a long walk out before eventually arriving back to the car at almost 1 am, at which point we were pretty tired!

After a late arrival the night before, we set off from the Squire Creek Trailhead at 6am or so and biked the washed out road for a mile or so before ditching bikes and heading up on foot. We left the trail at the requisite spot and descended towards Squire Creek, where we were able to pick up a very faint climbers’ trail, which with great care we were able to follow for a little over 1/2 a mile until it crossed Squire Creek. After some hunting, we picked up on the far side of the creek and continued along it until we ended up in a dry wash that was heavily blocked by avalanche debris and blowdown. We walked along downed tree trunks until through the debris, then continued past the base of the Roan Wall to the large boulder (Martha’s Place) in order to grab some water before heading towards our climb.

Becca hopping downed trees on the long approach up Squire Creek to the Roan Wall.

We backtracked down the wash until below the Roan Wall, then at the point that looked most promising, punched into the thick brush, bashing our way through maples for a few hundred yards past some large boulder until in the more-open watercourse coming down from the wall itself, which offered easier going. We followed this up for a few hundred more feet of boulder hopping, leaving our poles below the two approach pitches, which we soloed without trouble. We finally arrived at the base of the route proper at 11:00. Becca easily dispatched P1, then I led P2 which I linked into P3 with a bit of simuling with our 60 meter rope.

Three Fingers shrouded in clouds above us

In general, I thought the climbing was super fun with just the right amount of run-out (which is to say I was glad Becca led most of it). We agreed that there didn’t seem to be much of a discernable difficulty in grade between most of the pitches, although the crux pitch did seem more stout than the others. The swooping gear protected crack on P7 was super cool, and the scenery was awesome! Even though the route doesn’t seem to get much traffic, the hardware was all in good shape (except one spinning bolt stud on P3) although a wrench would be nice to tighten some hangers. We finally topped the route out around 16:00 and enjoyed nice overcast views from the top.

Becca enjoying some nice post-climb pizza, with Salish Peak in the background.

We agreed that with a long and involved descent, we probably didn’t have time for another 9 pitches of 5.10 climbing, but we didn’t want to let ourselves off too easily, so we started the walk off by scrambling west along the top of the Roan Wall before downclimbing into the basin to the north and dropping our packs to scramble up to the summit of Salish Peak via the walk-off route, which took about 45 minutes from where we left our packs. It was really beautiful in the basin, with flowers, slabs, heather, and peak-a-boo views of Three Fingers as it drifted in and out of the clouds. The (nameless?) twin lakes north of Three Fingers made for a particularly nice view from just below the summit of Salish Peak, which required a few moves of class 4 and some steep heather walking to reach.

Three Fingers, twin lakes, and Asters from just below the summit of Salish Peak

We started our descent as more clouds drifted back in, mostly retracing our steps to our packs, then crossing the ridge west of the Roan Wall to start the descent in earnest back towards the base of the Roan Wall. With careful route finding I thought this really wasn’t so bad, although it was definitely most difficult at the bottom, with some exposed brushy scrambling. We reached the base of Center Stage at 19:45, about 45 mins after returning to our packs and an hour before sunset - but we still had the approach pitches and the bushwhack to contend with.

Descending Salish Peak in swirling clouds

Slabs below Salish Peak - we’ll need to come back for Flight of the Falcon!

Walking back towards the top of the Roan Wall

One of the brushier parts of the descent back towards the base of the Roan Wall

Becca downclimbing near the base of the Roan Wall

It was here that the mosquitoes started to come out, and Becca’s spirits diminished. Our 60 meter rope wasn’t quite long enough to rappel the upper approach pitch, but by attaching all our draws and miscellaneous jingle jangle to the rope we were able to make it work. A second shorter rap brought us to the bottom of the approach pitches, and we descended into the watercourse after packing up the climbing gear. We made it back through the few hundred yards of thick brush as the setting sun was illuminating the clouds on Three Fingers, and were relieved to know that we just had several miles of (admittedly quite hard to follow) trail to exit. Follow the trail we did, but not exactly at record pace, and by the time we made it back to our stashed mountain bikes, we were pretty ready to be done. Back at the car, we decided to confront the flat tire after sleeping in the next morning. Still a great day though!

Becca rappelling the approach pitches, with Three Fingers in the background

Becca crushing the final few yards of thick brush as darkness falls

Trip Report: Stuart, Sherpa, and Argonaut Traverse

Galen Weld August 1, 2026

Eric, always the wiley one, got it into his head to try and have a go at a traverse of the full Stuart Range, which was famously done by Peter Croft in 1985 in 18 hours or so. We decided to throw light overnight gear in the packs and head on up Mountaineer Creek to see how far we would make it - which ended up being not too far! Nonetheless we still had a grand time climbing the North Ridge of Stuart, a classic in and of itself, and tagging a few new summits for Becca and Eric.

We left Matt’s place in Leavenworth as it was getting light and rallied up to the Stuart Lake trailhead, starting hiking around 6:00. The trail was already busy with folks heading for Colchuck Lake, but quieted down after we stayed straight towards Stuart Lake. We turned off onto the climbers’ trail up Mountaineer Creek, and soon were hopping boulders on the way to the base of the North Ridge.

Our first glimpses of some of our objectives from the Stuart Lake trail, looking up Mountaineer Creek towards Sherpa Pass in the middle of the frame. Argonaut at left, Sherpa at right, and Stuart hidden in a few wisps of clouds.

Matt inspecting the lower part of the North Ridge from just below the base of the route. Terminal moraine of the Ice Cliff Glacier below.

We filled up water at the base of the climb, eyeing a few parties higher on the route ahead of us, then roped up for the first 3 pitches up to 5.9, which we simuled before unroping to solo the mellower middle section of the route. Matt and Eric cruised ahead of Becca and, staying just out of reach, and providing a good incentive to keep moving quickly - we wanted to hear the jokes they were telling!

I wonder why they call it the Ice Cliff Glacier?

Becca on the North Ridge, with Sherpa in the distance

After passing a number of parties, we started nearing the Great Gendarme on the upper mountain, which has two more pitches of more difficult climbing. We roped back up here, and Becca fired off the two pitches of excelleng climbing to catch Matt and Eric. We unroped for the last bit of climbing up to the true summit, including a short 5.7/5.8 handcrack that was just about the limit of what I would want to solo. We reached the summit of Stuart around 16:00, five or so hours after starting the route - not fast by absolute standards, but I’m not sure I would want to try and go any faster!

Matt and Eric romping up the classic slab feature as they approach the Great Gendarme

Eric and Becca soloing a bit more easy rock below the Great Gendarme

Becca on the handcrack above the gendarme pitches

We enjoyed the summit for a little bit before beginning our descent over towards Sherpa, following the well-traveled snow towards the top of the Cascadian Couloir before heading off to the east, where we were thankful to find a bit of running water. We traversed on the south side of the ridge between Stuart and Sherpa over to the base of Sherpa’s West Ridge, where we decided to we didn’t have enough time to carry over Sherpa and find a campsite on the far side before dark. Instead, we dropped our packs and romped up the West Ridge in the evening light, with some clouds swirling around Stuart behind us. We made one short rappel on the descent, that dropped down to 7,500 feet in the basin on the south side of Sherpa before finding an adequate dry bivy site.

Descending snow towards the top of the Cascadian, with Sherpa in the shade ahead of us.

Matt and Becca climbing on the West Ridge of Sherpa.

On the summit of Sherpa, with the famous balanced rock.

As forecast, the wind picked up overnight, which made for what I will charitably describe as not the best night of sleep I have had in the mountains. The gusty winds, slightly sloping hard rock slab, and prolapsed thermarest all conspired to launch me off the side of my pad with the slightest movement. When the sky lightened around 5 am I did not exactly feel well-rested, but we finally gathered ourselves and made breakfast with our dwindling water supply. Eventually we set off to traverse over to Argonaut, which was straightforward but monotonous steep sidehilling through the dry and occasionally brushy forest around 6,300 feet. After a little less than three hours we reached the gully coming down from Argonaut’s south face, where our spirits improved: we found more running water, which we drank appreciatively, and some gorgeous flowers. After a break we headed up the gully, which was varied and fun. I thought back to my last trip up Argonaut with Adam almost 10 years earlier. The last little bit of scrambling up to the true summit through the cool tunnel feature was fun, and we reached the summit at 12:45, a little under 5 hours after leaving camp.

Becca modeling her homemade sleeping quilt in the morning

Rainier looming over the Teanaway summits to the south

Becca engaging in some proper jungle gym maneuvering on the traverse over to Argonaut

Becca and Eric in the natural rock tunnel just below Argonaut’s summit

From the summit of Argonaut, we descended east towards Colchuck Peak, starting by descending on the north side of the ridge, then making one 30 meter rappel into a deep gully, then seeking out a very fun exposed au cheval section of licheny ridge before reaching easy ground at the western edge of the Porcupine Creek drainage. This basin was much more pleasant than the hillside west of Argonaut, full of flowers, heather, streams, and boulders. We descended to 7,400 feet to stay below a very cool rock buttress, then climbed gently up to Banshee Pass at 15:45. Here I failed to drum up any enthusiasm for dropping packs and tagging Colchuck, and with folks not wanting to get back home too late, we opted to simply descend the Colchuck Glacier down towards the lake rather than climbing over Dragontail into the core of the Enchantments. Alas. It felt like a bit of a shame to have done a bunch of tedious sidehilling to get all the way to the edge of the more beautiful terrain, but at least the Colchuck Glacier made for a quicker and more pleasant descent than Aasgard. By complete coincidence we ran into a lab mate of mine at Banshee Pass, and I stayed back to give him a hand descending the glacier before catching back up to the rest of the group on the shore of Colchuck Lake. A quick dip in the lake refreshed us for the hike back to the car, and pizza in town fueled us up for the drive back home.

Becca getting cheered on by Matt on the au cheval section of the descent off Argonaut.

Eric getting some crack climbing in below Banshee Pass

Becca cruising up to Banshee Pass with Argonaut looming in the distance.

Matt and Eric flying down the Colchuck Glacier.

Trip Report: Climbing in the Bugaboos with Dad and Adam

Galen Weld July 25, 2026

Over the 4th of July holiday, Dad, Adam, and I headed up to to B.C. for a quick trip into the Bugaboos, an area that neither of them had been to before. Dad, a connoisseur of beautiful mountains, had wanted to go for a long time (Snowpatch Spire is the over of Beckey’s 100 favorite climbs book!) and this seemed like a great opportunity. Our main goal was to climb the ultra-classic West Ridge of Pigeon Spire, but we made a bit of a sightseeing trip out of it, flying into Calgary and driving to the Bugs, then flying back to the Seattle from Kelowna so that we could head through both the Rockies and the Columbia Mountains, stopping briefly along the way in Banff and Rogers Pass. On our first day we left Calgary in the mid afternoon and did some sightseeing along the Bow Valley.

Crossing the Continental Divide at Vermillion Pass, where water flows on one side into the Pacific, and on the other into the Atlantic… or is it the Arctic?

Numa Falls on the Vermillion River is a stunning roadside stop, and a great place to drop your lens cap to ensure you’ll never see it again

After a brief night in Radium, we organized our gear and pointed the rental car up the long dirt road up Bugaboo Creek. We set off up the trail towards the Kain Hut, and reached Applebee camp with lots of the afternoon remaining, so we decided to go scamper up the Northwest Ridge of Eastpost Spire to enjoy the evening light. I hadn’t climbed it before, and it was fun to get a new set of views!

Descending some snow on the way down Eastpost.

The next morning, I got up early to snap some photos of the sunrise before we headed off for Pigeon Spire. Our first challenge was climbing up to the Bugaboo-Snowpatch Col, up about 1,000 vertical feet of steep snow. Dad was a bit intimidated but crushed it no problem. At the top of the col we got our first views of the Howser Towers and the massive Vowell Glacier, then we headed onto the glacier to walk to the base of the West Ridge.

Sunrise above the Crescent Glacier, with light on Snowpatch Spire (left) and Bugaboo Spire (right). Howser Peak, the Hounds Tooth, and Marmolata Spire at left.

Cool melty snow patterns below Eastpost Spire

Dad and Adam heading up towards the Bugaboo-Snowpatch Col, below the striking East Face of Snowpatch Spire.

Heading across the Vowell Glacier, with the Vowell Group in the distance.

Some clouds were building as we set off up the West Ridge, which is really a superb climb. We cruised up the myriad ledges, cracks, au cheval sections, having fun and enjoying the clean rock and incredible views. After soloing the first two false summits, we roped up for the last pitch up to the summit proper.

Adam au cheval on the West Ridge, with the Howsers in the distance.

Adam leading the last pitch up to the summit of Pigeon

It was pretty chilly on the summit, and shortly after we arrived a squall rolled through, dumping hail for a few minutes, which added an alpine flair to the two short rappels we did before downclimbing. Once back at our packs, we chatted with some friends we happened to run into, then did some exploring and some lounging for the rest of the afternoon before enjoying a stunning sunset.

Dad and Adam on the first false summit on the descent

Dad snapping photos of the beautiful evening light. South Howser Tower behind him.

Howser Peak, Flattop Peak, and the Bugaboo Glacier in the evening sun.

The next morning we needed to begin our return to civilization, but we didn’t want to leave such a beautiful spot, so we ran partway back up the West Ridge again to take in the views.

Snafflehound and Spear Spires in the Vowell Group

Adam and Dad on the West Ridge, with Bugaboo Spire shaded behind them.

Texture on the surface of the Bugaboo Glacier from high on Pigeon Spire

We finally set off towards the car, descending the Bugaboo Glacier directly towards the Kain Hut to make a loop and enjoy the views of Snowpatch Spire from all sides. Adam and Dad put their excellent boot skiing skills to use, and before long we were walking below the icefall between Pigeon and Snowpatch Spires, then traversing back over towards the Kain Hut and down the trail to the car.

One last group photo before leaving Pigeon Spire

Adam boot skiing down the Bugaboo Glacier, with Snowpatch at the right.

Descending the trail below the Kain Hut through some recently avalanche debris.

We had one more bit of fun planned, though: on way to Kelowna, headed through Rogers Pass for a quick short overnight before flying home the next day. Having been to Rogers a number of times in the winter, but never in the summit, it was really fun to get to see the area with wildflowers instead of meters of snow, and to look at some ski lines. The glacier lilies were in peak shape as we popped out above treeline on the Avalanche Crest trail.

Glacier lilies in the sunny foreground with Mounts Jupiter, Swanzy, and Bonney on the skyline across Asulkan Brook

Dusk above Cheops, Ursus, and Grizzly Peak

Morning light on Cheops once again. Ursus Minor at right.

Trip Report: Northern Pickets Traverse (Easy Ridge, Whatcom, West Challenger, Challenger, East Fury, Luna)

Galen Weld July 17, 2026

Hey folks, I’m working through a backlog of photos and trip reports here, so apologies for the delay!

June 19-22 Matt, Eric, and I headed into the Northern Pickets for four days, approaching via Hannegan Pass and Easy Ridge, and tagging Easy Peak, Whatcom, West Challenger, Challenger, East Fury, and Luna as we made our way through the area, exiting via Access Creek and taking the Water Taxi back to Ross Dam. It was an amazing trip in the biggest part of the North Cascades that I hadn’t yet visited—I’ve been meaning to get into the Pickets for years, and with fire and trail closures, it took until now to make it happen! And the with the currently burning Luna Fire which started just 2 days after we left, we may have gotten lucky with the timing 🥶

Day 1: After dropping cars at the Ross Dam trailhead the night before, we drove the long way around to the Hannegan Pass trailhead, and set off at 10am. There was just a few tiny snow patches remaining on the trail at Hannegan Pass, and before long we were scuttling down to the bank of the Chilliwack River and wading across.

We picked up the abandoned trail up Easy Ridge without too much trouble, and followed it easily up to treeline, then headed along patchy snow to the top of Easy Peak. The views kept getting better as we went, with Whatcom looming over us by the end of the ridge, and Blum, Shuksan, and Baker to the west. We dropped down easy snow around the SE buttress of Whatcom, we encountered our first real challenge: the Imperfect Impasse, which really lives up to its name. It’s a deep gash running down the hillside, up to fifty feet deep in places, with nearly vertical sides. Best of all, it was almost completely invisible until we were right on top of it. With a bit of care we were able to downclimb into the bottom of the Impasse and scramble out the far side. Late in the day, the last thousand feet of climbing up to Perfect Pass felt long, but we found a nice campsite and enjoyed watching the sunset.

Eric and Matt boot ski-racing down from Easy Peak, with the Challenger Glacier in the upper left.

Matt downclimbing into the Imperfect Impasse. Blum at upper right.

Evening light on Baker (left) and Shuksan (right) with Mineral Mountain lower in front.

Day 2: We slept in a bit before heading up to tag Whatcom via easy snow on its south side, then a short bit of fun easy scrambling to the east to reach the true summit, with great views down towards Whatcom Pass. We zipped down the snow back to camp at Perfect Pass, then packed up and headed off at 10am to bag West and Main Challenger. It was easy going up the Challenger Glacier (we opted not to rope up) to Solar Pass (7,600 foot pass west of West Challenger) where we dropped packs and wrapped around onto the south side, dropping 50 feet. We climbed snow and some ungodly chossy rock to the notch immediately west of West Challenger, then 5 minutes of easier and cleaner scrambling brought us to the summit of West Challenger (~1.5 hrs from Perfect Pass, 50 mins round trip from Solar Pass).

Heading off towards Whatcom from Perfect Pass

Matt reaching the ridge crest just below the true summit of Whatcom. False (SW) summit in background.

Heading away from Whatcom and Perfect Pass onto the Challenger Glacier.

Matt and Eric climbing choss to reach the notch immediately west of West Challenger. “This is perhaps the chossiest choss I have ever experienced” said Eric. Whatcom in background (and Slesse!)

We retrieved our packs at Solar Pass and continued across the Challenger Glacier, making a gentle traverse around 7,400 feet to reach Challenger Arm. We headed up easy snow until a few hundred feet below the summit, then grabbed harnesses and backpacked the rope for the last climb, with stunning views down into the Luna Creek cirque. The climbing was fun and easy with only 1-2 moves which we opted to rappel (20 meter rope would be fine) on the descent. We retrieved packs and headed down Challenger Arm to 7,000 feet, then cranked right and cruised down mushy snow as we picked our way towards the valley bottom. We only did a little bit of easy slab downclimbing, and, with some care, had no trouble, but a little later in the season (with less snow) I think this would be more tedious. A healthy amount of talus hopping in the valley bottom brought us to the last easy climb up to Luna Lake just over 3 hours after retrieving packs below Challenger. We had plenty of daylight left, but opted to camp at Luna Lake, where Matt kept himself entertained by fishing for icebergs in the outlet creek. Really a stunning place to camp.

Eric hopping over a small crack on the Challenger Glacier as we traversed over towards Challenger Arm

Rappelling of the summit block on Challenger

Matt fishing for icebergs in the Luna Lake outlet, with Fury in the sun behind him.

Day 3: I got up for sunrise and enjoyed photographing the morning light reflected along the shore of Luna Lake. Crampons were helpful for the last half of the straightforward 1.75 hour climb to Luna Col, where we found a tent - the first evidence of other visitors to this place since leaving the Chilliwack River.

We dropped overnight gear and at 9:15 headed off for Fury. I thought the route was super fun, climbing over three humps along the ridge before dropping into the snow-filled basin past Pt. 7360+. We bypassed the first hump easily on a nice ledge system to the northwest (right). The second hump was easy walking until it ended in a steep drop-off, which was descended easily on ramp system starting on the left (south) side of the ridge marked with a cairn. We descended this to the notch, then descended some easy loose dirt to the right before traversing back on some easy class 3 to the ridge. From there it was easy scrambling along the ridge to the top of the third hump (Pt. 7360+ about .6 miles from Luna col). We continued another 1/3 of a mile on easy terrain with a few downclimbing steps to the next saddle just below 7,000 feet, then dropped off the ridge on steep heather to enter the aforementioned snow-filled basin

It was in this basin that we caught the owner of the tent back at Luna Col, and he followed us as we kicked steps across some mildly heads-up steep snow at 6,700 feet below the a steep rib of rock and onto the climbers’ right-hand lobe of the Fury Glacier east of the summit. We climbed more steep snow to where the glacier leveled off at 7,800 feet. From there, it was straightforward slushy cruising past the bergschrund and up the spectacularly exposed snow ridge to the summit of East Fury at 13:00, 3.75 hours from Luna Col. Unfortunately, with the warm weather and soft snow raising our loose-wet avalanche hackles, we opted to leave West Fury for the next trip, and dropped directly down the Fury Glacier (fun boot skiing and glissading on the skiers’ right line along the main lobe of the glacier this time instead of retracing our steps) to 6,700 feet, where climbed a short distance back to our up-tracks and repeated the steep snow traversing into the basin and back to the third hump. We got back to camp at Luna Col at 16:45, 3 hours after leaving the summit.

Morning light on Swiss Peak, Phantom, Crooked Thumb, and Challenger reflected in some ice along the shore of Luna Lake.

Matt and Eric traversing along the side of the “first hump” enroute to Fury, seen here at the right.

Eric and the Southern Pickets: Inspiration, The Pyramid and Degenhardt (separated by a band of snow reaching to the skyline) and Terror.

The final snow climb to East Fury was spectacularly exposed.

Matt demonstrating his excellent telemark boot skiing technique as he descends the Fury Glacier.

We lounged around at camp for a little while before heading up Luna. It was 30 minutes easy walking up the ridge to the false summit, then a few more minutes of easy, fun, and exposed scrambling to the true summit. We all enjoyed the views for a while, then the boys headed back to camp as I took my time descending, snapping lots of pictures of the sunset. I arrived back at camp just as the sun was dropping below the horizon, and we all enjoyed a few minutes of quiet as we watched it twinkle out of view.

Group photo on the (false) summit of Luna, with the classic view of the Southern Pickets.

Day 4: I started our last day of the trip by running back up Luna to watch the sunrise, which was truly stunning. What an amazing place! A dragged my feet as I headed back to camp to make breakfast, then we set off at 8:15. Crampons ended up being unnecessary to descend the steep snow south of Luna Col, and before long we were saying goodbye to our views as the climbers’ trail deposited us at the top of the steep snow gully leading into Access Creek. A few minutes of excellent boot skiing and we were staring up at the impressive East Face of Luna towering above us. After some sunny boulder hopping we crossed from the right to left (looking downstream) sides of Access Creek at 3,800 feet or so. The climbers’ trail through the forest was in decent shape and pretty easy to follow, with a few sections of blow down, until we were almost at Big Beaver Creek. There, the trail petered out, but we found a high log to cross on without too much trouble. A hundred yards of bushwhacking later and we stumbled out onto the Big Beaver Trail just before 12, 3.75 hours from Luna Col including a lunch break.

It was a long hot hike out, and we didn't see a soul except for the trail crew from the Park service who had thankfully brushed and logged out the trail up to 2 miles or so from Access Creek. We reached Ross Lake at 16:00 and had plenty of time to jump in before our 17:00 water taxi pick up. Swimming felt amazing, and it was fun watching the lakeshore zip by from the water taxi. Neat views of Ross Dam made the hot trudge back up to Highway 20 manageable, and Eric and I said goodbye to Matt before setting out for the long drive back to retrieve my car.

I even had enough time to photograph the sunset on Shuksan from Picture Lake on my big film camera, and skied Blueberry Chutes to tick off June turns before driving home.

First light hits the summit of Baker, with Phantom, Ghost and Crooked Thumb in front.

Southern Pickets panorama, with Outrigger Peak at right

A 7 minute self timer gave me plenty of time to scuttle from the true summit of Luna back to the false summit to snap this self-portrait.

Phlox and heather flowers along the Luna climbers’ trail made for a beautiful last view of the Southern Pickets before dropping down to Access Creek.

Crossing Big Beaver creek before the long hike down to Ross Lake

Trip Report: Garibaldi Lake Circumnavigation

Galen Weld July 4, 2026

Garibaldi Lake sits in the Coast Mountains about 100km north of Vancouver, B.C. Not only is the lake itself one of the largest alpine lakes in the region, but it sits at the center of an area of incredible geology: surrounded by mountains on all sides, the area contains a lava dam that impounds Garibaldi Lake (and threatens to fail and flood the valley below), Mount Garibaldi, a massive and heavily glaciated stratovolcano, and numerous other volcanic features like the Black Tusk, a striking fin of dark rock, and the Table, a flat-topped and alien looking rock formation that was formed when magma erupted underneath the massive Cordilleran Ice Sheet during an ancient ice age and failed to pop through the surface of the ice, resulting in the flattening of the top of the molten mass of rock.

An overview of my route around Lake Garibaldi with the major summits annotated, taken from the summit of Mount Price at the end of the loop.

Last year Becca and I headed up to Garibaldi Lake for a quick camping trip, and since then I wanted to come back to explore more of the area. Circumnavigating the lake seemed like a cool sightseeing excursion. I had read a bit online about the route, but there were pretty scant details available, especially about the “high route” that I was interested in that would let me summit more of the mountains around the lake and spend more time on some of the glaciers. The weekend of June 13, unable to tempt any partners to join me, I headed up to B.C. by myself to give it a go, planning on packing fairly light to camp one night and trying to move quickly. I frontloaded much of the route on the first day because I harbored ambitions of trying to summit Mount Garibaldi early on the morning of the second day, but warm weather, loose wet avalanche activity, and the lack of an overnight refreeze caused me to bail. As I continued the loop, I saw a party of four heading towards the summit, which made me doubt my decision-making, but watching them almost get taken out by a sketchy avalanche an hour later made me feel more confident in my choice 😅. The trip ended up being a ton of fun with just the right amount of rumpus, and had about 15,500 feet of elevation gain over 32 miles. I ended up climbing 6 summits: Panorama Ridge, Polemonium Ridge, Castle Towers Mountain, Mount Carr, The Sphinx, and Mount Price, and took a lot of really dorky staged self-timer portraits along the way.

I’ll go into a bit more detail than normal on this trip report since there isn’t too much about it online, but feel free to just skim through the photos as always :)

On Friday night I ended up hanging out in Seattle with Becca until she left for Mount Stuart, which meant a later departure than ideal. It was almost midnight when I turned off the Sea to Sky, which made it extra unpleasant to set my alarm for 4:00 am. I snoozed for a few hours on the side of the road just below the Rubble Creek trailhead, then started out early Saturday morning, hoping to get up to the Barrier viewpoint before sunrise. I left the car a bit before 4:30 and cruised up the trail. The Barrier viewpoint was a little bit higher than I recalled, so I got there after the beautiful morning light on the Tantalus Range (and there weren't really any views from the forest below) but it was still very pleasant, just over an hour from the car. With the sunrise rush behind me, I continued at a more relaxed pace, and reached the Taylor Meadows campground just after 6:00, where I thought fondly of my trip a year earlier there with Becca. The trail was still mostly snow free to Black Tusk Lake, which I reached a bit past 7:00.

From there it was an easy 30 minutes up snow to these spectacular summit of Panorama Ridge, with a mirror smooth Garibaldi Lake making for beautiful reflections even if the light was starting to get flat. I left the well-trodden route and headed off on my own, east northeast down the snowy and gentle rocky ridge crest towards a saddle just below 2,000 m where I got on the Helm Glacier. I traversed with a bit of post-holing to the 2070 m pass northeast of Gentian Peak at 9, then dropped down easy (but mildly steep) soft snow and heather towards Gentian Pass below.

Guard Mountain and Mount Garibaldi from the summit of Panorama Ridge. Note The Table looking like a rendering error just below Garibaldi. Mount Price is just to the left of my face.

Views of the Black Tusk as I descended towards the Helm Glacier

From Gentian Pass it was easy more snow and heather up Polemonium Ridge. I passed one party descending from an early morning ascent of Castle Towers, the last folks I would talk to until reaching the shore of Garibaldi Lake the next day, then reached the top of Polemonium Ridge at 10:30 where I took a quick break. Downclimbing into the saddle between Polemonium Ridge and the West Peak of Castle Towers was 5 minutes of easy easy class 2 scrambling with a plenty of traffic dropping to the right (south) side of the ridge. From the saddle proper, I stayed on snow on the south side to make a level traverse for about 150 horizontal meters until it was easy to climb back up to the ridge, then 100 vertical meters of more easy class 2 brought me back to snow. The last 300 vertical meters of steeper snow to the West Peak of Castle Towers were thankfully in great shape, and I reached the peak a little bit before noon. Beautiful views.

On the summit of Castle Towers Mountain, with Mount Price across Garibaldi Lake, and the Tantalus Range in the distance.

Unfortunately, I was alarmed to see that it looked non-straightforward to get down onto the Sphinx Glacier. I took a break and then some pictures while ruminating on what to do, and eventually decided to try and traverse over to the middle (main) peak of Castle Towers. I descended a steep cairned gully/ramp that looked a bit intimidating but was actually quite easy, with only one spot to face in, then traversed to the saddle between the west and the main summit on some snow. From there it was easy class 2/3 boulders mixed with snow to the summit, capped by a final 10 ft of fun, airy, but very secure and solid class 3/4. It took me about 15 minutes from the west peak to the middle summit. However, it didn't look possible to descend to the glacier easily from the middle summit, and it looked quite challenging to traverse to the east peak. I retraced my steps, downclimbing back to the notch between the west and the middle peak, then descended the very steep snow gully down towards the Sphinx Glacier. It was mostly easy, soft snow, although steep enough that I faced in for much of it as I descended about 100 vertical meters. At the very bottom there was a 10-ft melted out wet section which had just a tasteful amount of fucked up loose downclimbing, but as a bonus, I was able to fill up water. It's worth noting that while this route went for me when it was snow-filled, the gully would likely be really unpleasant after it melts out. As a worst case backup one could descend down to the saddle by Polemonium Ridge and then traverse to the Sphinx Glacier from there.

The snow/choss gully I descended to reach the Sphinx Glacier from between the West (left) and Middle (right) Peaks of Castle Towers

I made it down to the glacier at 13:15 and started heading over towards Mount Carr on gentle snow. It was slow trudging in the hot sun, with ankle deep post-holing, wet feet, and no breeze. Absolutely baking. Nonetheless, it was easy going until 100 meters below the summit of Mount Carr, then I climbed a short steep snow ramp and then a easy choss gully 150 immediately meters northwest of the summit. Once on Carr’s Northwest Ridge it was easy class 2 to the top, just past 14:30. There was a summit register from the '80s which was fun. Once again, stunning views with endless mountains in all directions. Fun to see over to Whistler and Blackcomb, as well as down to Mount Baker and Shuksan and even the Olympics.

On the summit of Mount Carr, looking back at Castle Towers.

I started descending Carr a little bit past 15:00. Back on the glacier it was more bakey post-hole slogging, and I slowly made my wallowing way over towards Sphinx Pass. I opted to stay high and traverse above the glacier at around 2100 m which put me on some more side hilling terrain. I’m not sure if it would have been better to drop to the flatter stuff. I arrived at the pass just after 17:00, feeling decently tired from all the hot sun and post-holing. There was a decent amount of loose wet activity, including point releases from my tracks, as well as later, some natural slides, and the idea of descending closer to Garibaldi didn't sound that appealing. Instead, I hung out at the pass and enhanced a little bivy site, enjoying the view while trying unsuccessfully to dry out my shoes.

A silly self portrait as I traversed the Sphinx Glacier, with the Bookworms at left and The Sphinx below and just left of Garibaldi.

Sphinx Glacier panorama, with Sphinx Pass below Garibaldi, and Deception Peak to the right. I camped at Sphinx Pass.

I had an early dinner, and then a little bit before 20:00 I headed up The Sphinx for sunset. I was hoping to keep my feet drier and avoid the snow slope above camp, so I attempted to scramble directly up the ridge. I pulled a few low fifth class moves but then found myself on top of a gendarme from which I couldn't descend, so I had to downclimb with my tail between my legs. I put my gators back on and booted up 50 vertical meters of mush before regaining the ridge at a saddle with two beautiful rectangular gendarmes. From there it was a fun scramble up easy heather and class 2 slabs until the ridge leveled out, then lots of boulder hopping for another 200 vertical meters to the summit, where I enjoyed a spectacular sunset. As it started to get dark, I headed back down, retracing my steps to camp and settled into my cozy bivy.

The blocky gendarmes on the ridge of The Sphinx were super cool!

Self portrait on top of The Sphinx, with Mamquam Mountain in the distance

Looking back at Castle Towers and Mount Carr above the Sphinx Glacier from the summit of The Sphinx

Mount Garibaldi (left) and Garibaldi Lake panorama from the summit of The Sphinx

I woke up as it was getting light and was disappointed to find that the snow had not refrozen overnight, with only a thin firmer crust on top of mush. Garibaldi looked incredibly close, and I really wanted to climb it, but with the schrund looking scary, no evidence of anyone having climbed the NE face recently, and the lack of refreeze, I decided to abandon my ambitions. I made breakfast and enjoyed the sunrise, then started off by heading up the peak immediately west of Sphinx Pass (East summit of Deception Peak) which was a lovely quick walk on heather and broken rock.

Morning light on Garibaldi and the Glacier Pikes

I packed up camp and left around 6:45, descending down to the Phoenix Glacier to the south. Post-holing through the crust was annoying, but it went quickly, and it was really cool being on the Phoenix Glacier, looking down into the deep Pitt River valley. So cool to see everything draining in different directions from one ice cap.

Descending from Sphinx Pass towards the Phoenix Glacier

I headed up the gentle Phoenix and on to the Sentinel Glacier, with incredible views of The Table - what a wild formation! While I felt disappointed to not go up Garibaldi, with how soft the snow already was (plenty of ankle deep+ penetration) I was confident I made the right decision, until I got a little closer towards the Glacier Pikes, when I saw a party of three or four people heading slowly up towards Garibaldi’s Northeast Face. My first reaction was that they had gotten a way later start than I would have wanted, but then I started second-guessing myself: maybe I was just being a weenie? I kept an eye on them as I continued around the lake.

Self portrait on the edge of the Sentinel Glacier, with Guard Mountain looking pointy and Mount Price at left

I made a rising traverse to around 1,900 m on the Sentinel Glacier to avoid some steeper terrain northwest of Glacier Pikes, going at a leisurely pace, enjoying the view and taking pictures. To descend to the pass west of Glacier Pikes, I had to downclimb some incredibly cool basalt faces with fractured columns tilted at an angle. From there, it was easy straightforward snow to the ridge leading to The Table. I stayed almost directly on the crest of the ridge, picking my way through meadows and around stands of trees lower down, then staying on snow and rock on the ridge crest proper higher up where it got steeper. I reached the edge of The Table around 9:15 and took a break, then headed up to explore The Table itself. Not only is it wild and foreboding, the views down into the glacial outlet streams and lake below the Warren Glacier were beautiful, too.

Cool basalt near the Glacier Pikes, with The Table in the distance at left and the Black Tusk across Garibaldi Lake

I doubled back on my tracks for this posed self-timer shot as I headed towards The Table

The Table is such a crazy, foreboding-looking hunk of choss!

I continued onwards at 9:45, enjoying some cruiser boot skiing down the snow and then through a few trees into the nice open meadows between The Table and Mount Price. I skirted the right hand edge of the meadows, finding some really nice reflections of Garibaldi in the swampy meltwater puddles, as well as a super cool view of the massive arch on the back side of The Table. At the western end of the meadow, right at the low point between The Table and Mount Price, I worked gently uphill through light brush to get back into open meadows on the north side of a small bump (1660+ meters), then made a descending traverse towards Mount Price to a small rocky pass (49.90641, -123.03178). I then followed the watercourse down from the pass in a southwesterly direction through more meadows for about a quarter mile until below the drainage shown on the map coming down from the Price-Clinker saddle. The bottom of this drainage was guarded by a weird moraine or volcanic rib that didn't show up on the map, so it wasn’t quite obvious when I was at it - I had to climb up over it and then drop into the drainage, which made for a straight snowy shot towards the Price-Clinker Saddle. Lower down it was gentle snow, then up high it gave way to more hot brushy and snowy trudging in the windless sun.

Mount Garibaldi reflected in meadow puddles below Mount Price. Check out the natural arch on the north side of The Table!

About 2/3 of the way up, I looked back over at Garibaldi to see that a very large loose wet slide had ripped from just below the summit on the looker's right hand side of the Northeast face and poured over the cliffs onto the Warren Glacier below. The party that I had been watching slowly ascend was right next to it when it let loose, and thankfully seemed fine. I couldn’t tell if they had triggered it themselves or had happened to be next to it when it naturally released, but I would have been shitting myself if I was in their place. At least I was vindicated in my bail decision!

A little bit below the Price-Clinker saddle the snow gave way to loose unpleasant unconsolidated volcanic ash pumice dirt, and I charged up that all the way to the summit of Mount Price, reaching the top a little bit before 11:45. It was really fun to see the entire circumnavigation in a single panorama. There was absolutely no trace of recent people on Mount Price, which I was a little bit surprised about, and I was the first entry in the summer register since a winter ascent in January.

I started descending a little bit before 12:30. Below Clinker there was still plenty of snow, so I boot skied down to the forest. I followed some old tracks through the snow until it ran out, then followed the Mount Price trail, which was overgrown in a few places, but easy to follow with a little map checking and plenty of flagging. I reached the busy shore of Garibaldi Lake before 14:00 and spent a few minutes checking out the Battleship Islands. I dunked my head in the lake, which was blissful, then continued on towards the outlet. The trail down past Lesser Garibaldi Lake and Barrier Lake was pleasant but not too interesting, although there is a really nice waterfall just above the bridge on Taylor Creek. I poked my head back at The Barrier viewpoint, having completed my loop, then ran down the rest of the trail to the hot parking lot at 15:30. Dunking my head in Rubble Creek once again felt great before starting the drive back home, and I made it back to Seattle in time to catch friends for a pizza dinner.

Battleship Islands and Garibaldi Lake, with the Sphinx Glacier prominent across the lake, and Mount Price at right

Gallery: Late Spring in the Palouse Region of Eastern Washington

Galen Weld June 29, 2026

Two weeks ago dad and I headed east for a quick photography trip to the Palouse, which is one of my favorite parts of the state and a classic spot for landscape photography. The Palouse is an agricultural region on the border of Washington and Idaho, sitting south of Spokane, and characterized by beautiful rolling hills with fields of wheat, legumes, and rapeseed. We had a great time during our short trip, with some cloudy weather on our first day and a beautiful sunset the night before we headed back to Seattle. Here are a few photos!

We stopped briefly by Palouse Falls on our drive east

Steptoe Butte with a lenticular cloud and wheat field in the foreground

Color in the clouds as the last light hits the hills in Idaho

The classic view: sunrise from Steptoe Butte

Fields and drainage ditches from Steptoe Butte

Trip Report: Chilly Conditions on the South Ridge of Ingalls Peak

Galen Weld June 23, 2026

Two weeks ago was Eric’s birthday, and we needed to do something to celebrate! He had initially wanted to go to Squamish, but the weather had other plans, so we pivoted to a big ole climbing birthday party on Ingalls Peak - a classic easy alpine rock climb.

After camping below Ingalls Pass the night before, we rocked up to the base of the route as a group of 8 people, which prompted one member of the party ahead of us to ask if we were “with the Mountaineers” - an auspicious start! We divided up into three rope teams and took the mountain by storm, which was fitting as an actual snowstorm added some flakes, strong winds, and near freezing temps, which gave the climb a bit more alpine character. I think we all climbed the whole thing in gloves! Here are a few pics :)

A squall over Esmerela Peak on the way in

Becca and Yohannes on the approach above Lake Ingalls

Eric, Ian, and Soph with Stuart behind in the clouds

Becca and Yohannes nearing the base of the route

Matt demonstrating precise footwork on the first pitch

Yohannes getting properly alpine on his first alpine rock climb

Of course it cleared up as soon as we were down

Trip Report: Running the Stone Ridge Trail on the Big Sur Coast

Galen Weld June 12, 2026

At the start of this month I headed down to LA to attend ICWSM. Even though the conference was in the basement of the LA airport Marriot, which is not the most exciting place in the state, I wanted to make the most of my trip south, so I schemed with Alex to drive up the coast afterwards and link up along the Big Sur coast, where Alex pitched me on running up the Stone Ridge trail, which climbs straight uphill from the ocean to the summit of Cone Peak at 5,155 feet. A week before the trip, Alex called me up to plan. “I have an idea…” he said. “But first, a question: do you know how allergic you are to poison oak?”

I set out on Friday afternoon from LA, battling traffic as I made my way northwest. I enjoyed a lovely sunset near Ragged Point, then drove another hour or so north to camp near the trailhead, a short ways up a side road. When I woke up before sunrise, there was a thick layer of fog above the ocean, filling the valleys and making for a beautiful view. I snapped a few pictures, then headed over to the trailhead to meet Alex.

Morning fog above the ocean, looking north up the coast from Nacimiento Road

At 6:30 am, right on time, Alex rolled up and parked next to me. We stepped out of our cars and were immediately hit with a foul smell: there was a rotting deer carcass in the ditch about 10 feet away. An auspicious start. We lathered up with some sunscreen, then set out to find the overgrown trail. The first bit was the brushiest, with plenty of dew to soak us and sharp brush to scratch up our legs (and to get more poison oak oil into our circulatory systems), but it was pleasant climbing through the foggy hillside. We crossed Limekiln Creek in a nice grove of redwoods, then started climbing Stone Ridge in earnest, soon rising out of the clouds. We headed uphill with a few runable flatter spots, with the views getting nicer and nicer as we got higher. It was a gorgeous day! Before long we were at the top of Twin Peak, where we took a short break before a rocky traverse over to the much larger and more popular trail that runs up to Cone Peak. Before long we were at the fire lookout on the summit, where we took another break before starting our run down, down, down.

Crossing Limekiln Creek in a nice grove of Redwoods

Alex and I just below the summit of Cone Peak

The descent loop was nicely varied, with some single track, a fire road, and then the highlight was the lower stretch - running down through Redwood groves above Vicente Flat, then traversing the steep hillside to the south. We hit the highway about 3.5 miles south of our cars, and ran up the road. Alex set a brisk pace up the shoulderless highway, and it was starting to get hot in the sun. The last mile was gently up hill, and I was starting to feel in rough shape after 5000+ feet of downhill running. Soon enough, though, were were running through the new Rain Rocks Rock Shed, installed by Caltrans to help keep rockfall off the highway, and then we were back at our cars - a really wonderful loop run!

Descending towards the ocean as the fog burns off below

We drove back to the Bay Area, where I thought I took the right poison oak precautions: immediately washed all my clothes, showered with Tecnu. We headed into San Francisco for a nice dinner to celebrate Alex’s birthday, and I thought that was that. I spent four more days in California, visiting friends and coworkers, enjoying a great paragliding flight at Mussel Rock, and watching a few more nice sunsets. I thought that all the poison oak risk had been overhyped, but I was so, so wrong… (First a few more photos - scroll on for the epilogue!)

Cormorants south of Point Pedro, near Pacifica

Surf blurs in this long exposure at dusk

Epilogue: As I sat at SFO waiting for my delayed flight back home, I felt the first itchy urges. Within a day or two, I had a rash all over my arms and legs, some on my chest and on my face as well, which was decently swollen. Sleeping was awful, and to really add to the fun, I had a nice infected rash in my navel and groin to boot. I somehow even seem to have managed to bring some Urushiol back to Becca, too! All this despite not seeing too much poison oak along the trail and despite trying to be careful. Lesson learned. A week later, with most of a course of Prednisone behind me, I’m much better, but now I can definitively answer Alex’s question from the beginning:

Q: “Do you know how allergic you are to poison oak?” A: “Extremely!”

Trip Report: Skiing Mount Baker via the Squak Glacier (and bookend camping)

Galen Weld June 8, 2026

Memorial day weekend was upon us, with so many activities to choose from! So many destinations to select from! Audra was visiting from California, Helene was at the tail end of a volcano skiing rampage, and Becca was excited to notch another Cascade classic in her ski mountaineering belt-erm-harness. The stage was set to ski Mount Baker via the Squak.

Prologue: Ever hungry for an overnight mission, I set out on Thursday night for Shuksan arm, with my big film camera in tow. Despite overcast skies and some sprinkles coming up the highway around 6pm, I put my faith in the National Weather service and skied up to to the top of the arm, and enjoyed a beautiful sunset on Shuksan. I stayed up as it got dark taking more photos and setting up a star trail shot on slide film, which also involved getting up at 3 am, before it got light, to close the shutter, then getting up at 5 for sunrise - not enough sleep! I just got my film back from the lab and will send some of those shots out once I scan them, but in the meantime, here are some digital snaps.

Clear skies above Larrabee and the Border Peaks

Act I: Our Californian companions’ flight into town was tragically delayed, which made what was already going to be a brief night of sleep even briefer. We didn’t get home from the airport until after midnight, and with a 1:50 am wake-up call to start driving to Schreibers Meadow, we only about an hour of sleep - a perfect start to the day. We piled into the car bleary eyed, and rolled north under starry skies to rendezvous with Helene (who herself was coming off a crazy day - ask her about it!). We set off from the trailhead at first light, along with plenty of other folks with the same idea. We started skinning as we left the Scott Paul Trail, and cruised up into the alpine as some clouds started to swirl around the upper mountain.

Superhighway up towards the Sauk, with Sherman Peak hiding the true summit of Baker

Visibility came in and out on the glacier, but morale remained high!

Passing the big ‘schrund just below the crater

I hadn’t been up any of the south side routes before, so I was excited to peer into the crater and listen to the hissing fumaroles

Becca, Audra, and Helene attacking the Roman Wall

I was really proud of Becca for doing a great job skiing the Roman Wall despite being intimidated by it!

Every ski descent requires some rest breaks. Some unplanned…

Cruising the lower Squak with some seracs poking out

Epilogue: After returning to the car, we said goodbye to Audra, who headed back to Seattle for some well-earned rest, while Helene and Becca and I nipped over to Sauk Mountain to catch the sunset. We headed up the many pleasant switchbacks, with a great view over the confluence of the Skagit and Sauk rivers, and enjoyed an easy night of mellow camping before heading home.

Shuksan looking nice in the evening light

On the way out we got a great view of this grouse doing its grousy thing

Helene and Becca with Whitehorse in the distance

Trip Report: Skiing Clark Mountain via the Clark Glacier

Galen Weld May 29, 2026

Two weeks ago, Matt and I were fired up about the possibility of a big spring ski traverse, but the weather had different plans. A mid-May storm cycle rolled into the Cascades just before the weekend, dropping 2+ feet of snow at higher elevations, and the forecast said that things wouldn’t really clear up until Sunday. I was a bit disappointed about not being able to get out for a longer trip, but I couldn’t really complain about the possibility of skiing some mid-May powder. To further sweeten the deal, Matt was laid low by a nasty cold, which meant that I finally stood a chance of keeping up with him.

We decided to head for the Clark Glacier, on the north side of Clark Mountain, the highest summit in the Dakobed Range immediately southeast of Glacier Peak. This is an area that I had never been in in the winter before, and I was excited about the alpine terrain and the solitude. Matt and I linked up at Coles Corner on Saturday afternoon, and headed up to White River Falls.

It sprinkled a bit on us on the drive up, and the weather seemed mildly foreboding, but we headed up the White River Trail, which is pretty properly obliterated by blowdown for much of the first ~2 miles. Still, it was pleasant in the forest, with lots of blooming Trillium and massive old growth trees. We hit the Boulder Creek Trail and headed up it. After plenty more blowdown for the first ~500 vertical feet, we were pleasantly surprised to find the upper part of the trail in great shape.

Matt expertly keeping his feet dry at the soggy Boulder Creek crossing.

A carpet of Glacier Lillies along the Boulder Creek trail

We hit snow around 4,500 feet and continued a bit further before finding a nice camp spot near the creek. The weather was still fairly overcast, but we got occasional glimpses of the subsummits of Clark far above us, coated in fresh snow. As we set up camp, a squall rolled in and it started snowing on us, so we had a quick dinner and then a cozy evening in the tent, listening to the snow fall.

Pt. 8373 shrouded in clouds and fresh snow above the Boulder Creek Basin.

Matt waiting for dinner as it snows lightly

We awoke to clearing skies and some sunshine, and thew our skins on to head up the valley towards Boulder Pass. On solar aspects, the spring sun quickly turned the fresh snow to mashed potatoes, and it was slow going breaking trail through a foot+ of mush. At Boulder Pass we made a short skins-on descent to flatter terrain, then wrapped around to northern slopes and the Clark Glacier. A long gentle traverse brought us to steeper terrain around 7,400 feet, then it was cruising along the flat upper glacier to the 8,100 foot saddle immediately east of the summit. We were a bit worried about the steep south-facing slopes below the summit, but they ended up being easy going, and before long we were on the summit, looking at the incredible views of Luahna, about 3.5 hours after leaving camp.

Matt beginning the climb up towards Boulder Pass

Traversing towards the Clark Glacier, with Boulder Pass below at left.

Heading across north-facing slopes towards the margin of the Clark Glacier.

Glacier Peak and Luahna from the summit of Clark.

We took a brief break on the summit, then ripped skins for the descent before things got gloppier. The southern slopes back to the saddle were wet, but once we were back on the glacier, we had great conditions, with 1,500 feet of sustained fall line powder to the bottom of the glacier. We skinned back up to the eastern edge of the east ridge of Pt. 8373, then skied some mush before a short climb to Boulder Pass and a fun tater ski back to camp along Boulder Creek.

Matt skiing some over-baked snow off the summit of Clark, with Pt. 8373 in the background.

The money pitch - fall line power to the toe of the Clark Glacier

Matt climbing back up towards the ridge after skiing the Clark Glacier, with our up- and down-tracks in the background.

We packed up camp and loaded up our packs, then, in classic Matt-and-Galen fashion, skied as far as we could until running out of snow (and a bit further) before swapping out ski boots for trail runners and heading back into the blowdown-filled forest to the trailhead.

A tasteful bit of meadow skiing below camp.

Navigating blowdown on the White River Trail

Trip Report: Mellow Backpacking on the Olympic Coast

Galen Weld May 21, 2026

Earlier this month, Becca and I took both of our moms out for a lovely mellow backpacking trip on the coast. I am typically preoccupied by more mountainous pursuits closer to home, but every time I go the the Olympics I am reminded that I should spend more time there. We left Seattle early Saturday morning and made our way over towards La Push with plenty of time to stop along the way, then hiked in to Scotts Creek, and in the morning enjoyed some tidepooling before heading back by way of the Hoh Rain Forest.

Despite having driven past it countless times, this trip was my first time stopping at Marymere Falls near Lake Crescent - beautiful!

Becca enjoyed looking down at this waterfall that drops straight into the ocean, with Third Beach in the background.

There were plenty of eagles along the beach, including this juvenile Bald Eagle. On a previous trip to the coast, we overheard a woman musing to her companion that the eagles were “defending our coastline,” and I think back to that comment every time I see one.

Becca and I climbed onto this piece of driftwood for a photo near camp.

Nice light as the sun got closer to the horizon.

Group picture on a sea stack south of camp

A long exposure smoothes out the surf at dusk

You can imagine all sorts of shapes in the seastacks at Giants Graveyard

Scotts Creek draining onto the beach in the last of the evening light

In the the morning, the full moon looked stunning setting out to sea

This Oystercatcher was looking for breakfast.

We had tons of fun looking at sea stars and anemones in the tide pools.

Morning light on Taylor Point and its small islets

Trip Report: Skiing Cashmere Mountain via Lake Victoria (and bonus flower pics)

Galen Weld May 14, 2026

After returning from Europe, I was in a classic Galen funk of indecision about weekend plans. After much hemming and hawing, I made very last minute plans to head out to Leavenworth and ski Cashmere with Matt from the north side. I left Seattle at 10:30 and crashed for a few hours on Matt’s couch before we got up at 5:30 to head up the Icicle.

When discussing the trip the night before, Matt, who had been up Cashmere via this route, mentioned that the Lake Victoria trail is “not a bushwhack, but also not not a bushwhack,” and I was curious to learn what he meant. Indeed, I learned quickly: the upper part of the Lake Victoria trail is completely obliterated by blowdown, particularly where it enters the Lake Victoria drainage around 5,100 feet. Fortunately for us, Matt and I had brought the ultimate ski bushwhacking weapon - ski blades! We whacked bushes, hopped logs, and generally bashed our way to Victoria Creek, where there was enough snowpack that travel was easier.

A spry Matt hops down trees along the Lake Victoria trail, unimpeded by his nimble ski blades.

We continued up to Lake Victoria, still frozen over, and enjoyed a slice of backpack pizza before skinning across the lake. We skinned up the fan on the far side, then switched to boot crampons to climb the firm snow in the righthand-most gully around 6,400 feet. We made quick progress up into the upper basin, and opted to keep booting since travel was quite efficient.

Skinning across Lake Victoria, with the summit of Cashmere just out of sight.

We scoped a line of continuous steep snow that led all the way through the summit, and cruised up through some cool rime ice to the top of the ridge. To our surprise, we saw a young man coming up the south side of the summit at the same time - he had approached from Eightmile Lake having left the car at 1:30am! A tasteful amount (10 feet) of easy mixed climbing over rimey rocks took us to the true summit just before our new friend, and we all enjoyed great views of the Stuart Range to the south.

Matt demonstrating his ice climbing technique mastery on the steep snow just below the summit.

Our unexpected summit companion seemed a bit turned around and anxious about his solo descent, so, in a striking show of parental nurturing, Matt offered to show him the route off the summit. Since the very top of the north face seemed like nasty skiing, we scrambled down the south side, traversing around to the west to reach more pleasant slopes. Matt said a tearful goodbye to his companion and pointed him down the hill towards Lake Caroline (a gifted Beargrass ski strap was presented as a talismanic good luck charm), and we ripped our skins and dropped into the face. The skiing was pretty firm for the first few hundred feet, but the upper basin held a few inches of fun powder down to the choke, and the fan was fun and sun-softened. I huffed and puffed trying to keep up with Matt skating across Lake Victoria.

Matt making his first turns on the north face of Cashmere.

Fun skiing in some wind-affected powder in the gully above Lake Victoria.

Looking back at our tracks from across the lake.

We continued skiing down Victoria Creek until we ran out of snow (and I postholed up to my shoulders), then danced our way through the deadfall and back down to my car without further incident. We got back to Leavenworth with plenty of time for a nice afternoon paragliding flight at Eagle Creek, which was truly carpeted in balsamroot flowers - see below for some bonus pictures!

Trip Report: Spring Skiing in the Ötztal Alps and Hohe Tauern of Austria

Galen Weld April 30, 2026

After Ireland, I headed to Germany to spend the weekend catching up and skiing with my good friend Jörn, who moved back to his native Germany after a few years in Seattle, where he was living when we met. Jörn is perhaps the single most dedicated powderhound I know, who doesn’t blink at the prospect of an overnight 12 hour drive to reach the best snow. In the ~2 years since he moved back to Germany, I was able to visit once last June, where the summer conditions meant that I left my skis at home for our ascent of the Grossglockner, the tallest mountain in Austria. This time around, it was mid-April, prime for spring skiing, and we were going to get after it. This was my first time backcountry skiing in the Alps, and I was lucky to have Jörn as my guide - that man is constantly comparing different weather models, explaining to me the finer points of orographic lift as it relates to microscale precipitation total differences in the Eastern Alps, and generally obsessing over weather, terrain, and skiing.

As such, I told Jörn to exercise executive decisionmaking over the weekend plans. With Saturday looking like the best weather up high, he picked me up from the Munich airport late Friday night and we immediately embarked on a 3+ hour drive to the Pitztal (Pitze Valley), about 30km southeast of Innsbruck. This valley drains some of the biggest glaciers in the Ötztal Alps, and we spent the night at a pension up the valley for an early start Saturday morning.

We caught the very first train of the Pitztal Gletscherexpress, an underground funicular railway that whisks you up over 1,000 vertical meters in 7 minutes. We got on the train at the valley bottom, surrounded by grassy meadows, and stepped off the train into an alpine environment of rock and ice (albeit in the middle of a ski resort). Walking up the stairs at the top of the train station, the almost 10,000 foot elevation was immediately evident. We took one more gondola, and then headed out of the ski resort over the Mittelbergjoch (pass), dodging past hordes of other ski tourers. From the joch we were greeted with our first view of the massive Taschachferner (glacier), our first ski objective for the day.

The icefall on the Taschachferner looks impressive! We summited Petersenspitze, the gentle snowy summit, then skied the lookers’ right hand side of the glacier seen here.

We skied down the the glacier and put our skins on for our first climb towards Petersenspitze, our first summit for the day. We started off in the same direction as many parties headed towards Wildspitze, the tallest mountain in the area (and the second highest in Austria), but soon turned off the skin track as we headed towards our objective. Jörn had promised me first tracks on our descent, so when we eyed another party heading in the same direction, his pace quickened notably. Feeling the altitude, I was positively gassed by the time we sprinted to the summit of Ptersenspitze within 30 seconds of the other party. Jörn exchanged a few words with them in German, and then told me that we hadn’t needed to rush - they were headed in a different direction. We said goodbye to the other party and started our descent of the Taschachferner, which was very gentle up high and then rolled over at the icefall for over a thousand feet of very nicely pitched skiing through a few inches of fresh powder with stunning views. At the bottom of the steep pitch, we continued down the glacier to its toe, then put skins on for our next climb.

Another party returning from the Brochkogeljoch traverses underneath the north face of Hinterer Brochkogel.

Jörn heading into the steep part of the Taschachferner, with the Mittelbergjoch at middle-left.

The bottom of the glacier felt totally different from its upper slopes. Gone were the hordes of people and ski tracks - it felt as though we had the whole place to ourselves, with trackless faces in all directions. We started climbing up towards Pitztaler Urkund and the Urkundsattel (saddle) in the sun, with nice views over to the Ölgruben group. Above the saddle, we climbed onto the Sexegertenferner as we made our way towards our second goal for the day, the Hochvernagtwand. We hadn’t been able to find much information about this north face, but the one picture I had found online made it look like a nice ski, and we were both relieved that our eyeballs confirmed that assessment. As we neared the top of the ridge, however, and the glacier steepened, the skinning conditions became trickier. We switched to booting a hundred feet below the ridge crest, and wallowed our way up to the top, where we were rewarded with great views back to Wildspitze. We ripped skins and dropped in, and enjoyed great skiing back down to the saddle and below to the valley floor, where the slope flattened out the snow was fairly well cooked. With some concern about loose wet avalanches on the way out, we skied, pushed, and skated down the valley back to the car at the bottom terminal of the Gletscherexpress - a great day! Jörn finished the day off by ordering me a plate of Spätzle so large that I absolutely could not finish it, followed by an order of Kaiserschmarrn - he nearly had to roll me back to our pension.

Jörn on the skin track above the Urkundsattel, with the Ölgrubenspitze, the Bliggspitze, and the Eiskastenspitze in the distance.

Jörn making the first few turns on the Hochvernagtwand, with our skin track below.

Jörn skiing the Westlicher Taschachferner, with Pitztaler Urkund behind him.

We woke up on Sunday morning with big ambitions to ski Sexegertenzpitze, but by the time we finished breakfast, the sky was thoroughly cloudy, with poor visibility in the alpine. The scene stepping off the Gletscherexpress underscored this point, as we were confronted with dumping snow and a complete whiteout. We pivoted our plans to something a bit less committed: the Hangenderferner on the northern slopes of Linker Fernerkogel. The weather radar suggested the storm would pass pretty soon, so we headed out onto the vast glacial expanse of the Mittelbergferner in a total whiteout, quite disorienting. However, just as promised, within 10 minutes things began to clear up, and we even had a few moments of sunshine as we climbed up to the saddle east of the summit. However, with just a hundred or so meters to go, another squall rolled in, and the visibility dropped to zero. We didn’t feel comfortable venturing out onto the glacier without any visibility, so I took off my skis and booted up and down 50 feet repeatedly in order to stay warm when the wind picked up. After an hour or so, visibility improved again, and we skinned up to the summit of Linker Fernerkogel, with its big cross, and waited for a bit of sun before we dropped in. The new snow and wind had filled in all the old tracks, and once again we had the whole place to ourselves. As soon as the sun popped out, we dropped in, and enjoyed excellent skiing down the Hangenderferner before cutting hard left to avoid a cliff band and return to the Mittelbergferner. We opted to ski out the valley again, and had fun carving down the closed-but-groomed piste all the way to the car, 4,000 vertical feet below.

Jörn heading out onto the Mittelbergferner as the visibility begins to improve.

The wind picked up and another squall came through as we traversed just a hundred meters or so below the summit of Linker Fernerkogel.

After skiing, we drove back through Innsbruck to Jörn’s apartment just outside of Salzburg, where we had a nice dinner with his wife and planned our escapades for the next day. With as much as 20cm of new snow arriving overnight, Jörn pitched me on heading to the Kitzsteinhorn ski resort for what he endearingly referred to as “freeriding,” which I gather is Euro-speak for chairlift accessed off-piste skiing with the occasional short hike or skin.

Schloß Staufeneck, an old castle in the foothills of the Alps not too far from Jörn’s home. All the villages and sights along the drives were preposterously scenic to my uncultured American eyes.

We headed out to catch the first chair, and Jörn battled through traffic as I enjoyed the sightseeing. Every single village that we drove through seemed so incredibly scenic to my American senses, and I told Jörn as much. I told him that the scenery back home seemed so ugly in comparison to the mountain towns, farms, and castles in the Alps. I was surprised to hear Jörn say that he had the same impression of the Cascades the first time he moved to Washington. To him, the scenery along the highways and backroads of the Cascades seemed strikingly wild and rugged. I guess being in a new place always feels special and exciting. We made to to Kitzsteinhorn without trouble, and a series of three gondolas whisked us 5,000 vertical feet up into the alpine. We made the most of the fresh snow and variable visibility, bouncing between patches of sun and patches of fog as we had a full day of skiing, and it was fun to get guided around Jörn’s home mountain.

Kitzsteinhorn in the early morning light as seen from our drive. If you look carefully you can make out the top terminal of the cable car on the righthand shoulder a bit below the summit.

Jörn skiing powder below the top lift, with Gaisstein in the background.

We mixed things up between the upper mountain and laps off of Kristallbahn. Here Jörn waited for some sun before dropping into a lap near Kleiner Schmiedinger.

After last chair, we headed back home for showers and a nice final dinner in Salzburg, then I got up early the next morning to make my way back to Seattle.

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