Trip Report: Golden Horn and Hacky Sack

The weekend before last, Adam and I set out for a mellow camping and climbing trip with our good friend and wildlife expert Dunlin, and friend and hacky sack connoisseur Chris, who was visiting from out of state. We wanted to camp somewhere pretty and climb some mountains, and Golden Horn and Tower Mountains seemed like an ideal set of objectives: easy approach on a good trail, nice lake to camp at, and some scrambling to keep things interesting.

I had previously climbed both summits (with the same itinerary) on a solo trip in 2015 in awful weather and with no views whatsoever, so I was excited to return with some friends and better weather.

A self portrait on the summit of Tower in August 2015, 10 years before this trip, with high spirits despite the total whiteout.

After a relaxed departure from Seattle and the traditional pre-trip raid on Winco’s bulk foods department, we met Dunlin at the trailhead and headed north on the PCT. The trail was almost completely melted out, with just a few short snowy sections near Cutthroat and above Granite Passes. By the time we were traversing the steep south slopes of Tower, the light was lovely, and the hike up the last mile to Upper Snowy Lake was gorgeous, with Tower looming over us. We dropped our stuff at a campsite, and enjoyed the sunset from a nearby hill.

Dunlin, Chris, and Adam crossing a snowy section of the PCT just north of Cutthroat Pass.

Lovely views of Porcupine and Black Peaks from the Snowy Lakes trail.

Tower Mountain and the Lower Snowy Lake outlet stream.

Sunset over the upper Methow valley, with Mount Hardy impressive in the middle-left, flanked by Black Peak (left) and the Ragged Ridge summits (right).

Unfortunately Chris wasn’t feeling well, and Adam’s tentbound flatulence prevented an overnight recovery (it likely made his condition deteriorate further). I got up early to snap some sunrise photos, and after breakfast, Chris opted to stay at camp and enjoy the fresh air in Adam’s absence, while the three of us headed up to tackle Golden Horn. It was a beautiful morning, and we did made quick time on the talus slopes leading to the horn itself, with its infamous exposed boulder problem at the very summit. We enjoyed lovely views of Hardy from the top before heading back to camp to reunite with Chris.

First light on Mount Hardy from Upper Snowy Lake.

A neat view of Jack and Crater, with clouds pouring over Mebee Pass and evaporating in the Methow valley.

The rising sun over the shoulder of Tower, with clouds filling the Swamp Creek basin.

Dunlin and Adam below the false summit of Golden Horn.

Back at camp, the involuntary expulsion of various fluids out of various orifices had marked the nadir of Chris’ illness, and he appeared to be on the mend. Chris was well enough, in fact, to coach us in an extended (by my standards) session of hacky sack, and we had a wonderful time playing together. We were wowed by Chris’ skills, further emphasized by my utter lack of foot-eye coordination.

Dunlin, Adam, and Chris enjoying a little sack time for the boys.

Despite his substantial sacking skills, Chris still didn’t feel up to tackling Tower, so we opted instead to have a leisurely lakeside lounge. We played more hacky sack, pioneered some local bouldering opportunities, and eventually packed up for the hike back to Cutthroat Pass, where we planned on camping for a second night. We enjoyed the leisurely hike back south, during which the afternoon heat necessitated numerous breaks for snacking, rock trundling, and further investigation of potential bouldering objectives. Eventually we dropped our stuff at a nice campsite below Cutthroat Pass, and, after the obligatory rounds of hacky sack, Adam and Dunlin and I set off for a sunset romp.

Adam demonstrating stellar spotting technique as Dunlin works the sit start of a futuristic boulder problem near Snowy Lakes.

Porcupine and Black Peaks from above Cutthroat Pass at sunset. Goode poking out to get in on the fun, too.

The Porcupine Peak at dusk.

The following morning, I hiked back up to Cutthroat Pass for sunrise, and had a nice time photographing some Glacier Lillies near our camp, before regrouping with the boys for breakfast and the short hike back to the car, where several celebratory rounds of hacky sack were compulsory before bidding adieu to Dunlin and heading back towards Seattle.

Glacier Lillies in the morning sun near our camp. Corteo Peak in the distance framed by trees.

Trip Report: Bladin' the North Ridge of Mount Baker

Two weeks ago, Matt, Adam, and I wanted one final ski mountaineering trip to cap off a great winter. After discussing various options, we decided to gun for the North Ridge of Mount Baker, a classic easy alpine ice climb that I had actually climbed once 13 years earlier, when I was 16 years old, as part of a guided climbing class. There was only one problem - despite my previous ascent, none of the present-day team had placed an ice screw in years. “Whatever…” Adam said, “the point is for this to be a learning experience!” To further ensure team bonding, all three of us decided to bring our ski blades.

Me following ice on my previous ascent of the North Ridge of Baker, age 16, in 2012. Photo courtesy of Everett Chamberlain, American Alpine Institute.

After a rainy Saturday, we drove up to the Heliotrope trailhead as it cleared up in the evening, spotting a black bear on the Glacier Creek Road and enjoying a lovely sunset. We car camped, and got up early. We were moving by 2:30am, hiking the superhighway trail through the woods by headlamp until we reached snow near the moraine of the Coleman Glacier at ~4,800 feet. We hiked for a bit longer before stashing our trail runners just below Hogsback Camp at transitioning to skinning as it was starting to get light. It was a beautiful clear morning, with a few remnant clouds swirling over Baker’s summit and the Black Buttes.

Matt and Adam starting skinning at first light.

We headed onto the Coleman Glacier following the obvious route to the base of the North Ridge, with crevasses mostly filled in, making for easy travel. We set the party ahead of us in our sights, and passed them before reaching the base of the North Ridge. We climbed some steep snow, passing another party that pitched things out, then cruised on up to the ice pitch, ahead of everyone else.

Matt and Adam soloing some steep snow low on the North Ridge, as we passed another party.

Matt and Adam having fun in the sun on the mellow snow below the ice pitch, which is visible high and left.

Great views of Colfax (snowy summit) and Lincoln (rocky summit) above the Coleman Glacier.

Matt and I were thrilled with our speedy progress, and doubly thrilled that there appeared to be a straightforward and easy route up the icy headwall ahead of us that would barely require any ice climbing. But when we checked in with Adam, he threw a curveball: “the point of coming up here was to have a learning experience! If we take the easy line, what will we learn?”

The ice pitch on the North Ridge, which presents a range of options. The easiest route was taking the snowy ramp above the rocks on the right, but Adam talked us into taking the steeper ice at far left.

Matt and I weren’t so sure, but Adam’s enthusiasm was admirable, and soon enough, we were heading left towards the steeper part of the headwall, and Adam was racking up to lead a ~20 foot pitch of degree ice up to 80 degrees. This was Adam’s first ice lead ever, and he did an incredible job, despite mediocre ice quality. Matt and I shivered at the belay below, but soon enough Adam had built an anchor on gentler terrain out of sight, and he put us on belay to follow the pitch. Matt climbed second, and I took the rear, cleaning the screws that Adam had placed. Just as I thought I was getting the hang of things, my tool popped and I weighted the rope - sure glad I wasn’t leading!

Adam at the top of the crux ice pitch on the North Ridge.

Relieved to be done with the ice climbing, Matt and I joined Adam at the belay, and we simuled for a few more rope lengths of steep snow before deroping and cruising up straightforward terrain towards the bergschrund at the top of the ridge.

Adam and Matt soloing easy snow towards the summit.

The bergschrung was easy to get around, and soon enough, we were on the summit plateau, the first party up the North Ridge that day. We put our skis back on to skin the short distance over to the true summit, were we joined the hordes of folks that had come up the more popular Easton and Coleman-Deming routes. The views down to Mount Shuksan far below us, poking out above an undercast, were lovely.

Mount Shuksan poking out through the clouds.

The boys and their blades on the summit. Thanks Lane for snapping the pic!

On the summit we ran into Lane, a friend of a friend of mine whose exploits I was vaguely aware of, and it was a fun small world coincidence to meet him as he and his partner almost caught us just below the summit. Apparently our reputation precedes us: “You must be the Weld brothers!” he said (kidding, Lane).

After enjoying the view for a while, we ripped skins and skied over to the top of the Roman Wall. We had considered skiing back down the North Ridge, but with the firm snow and cold temps, we figured the CD would offer better skiing. The Roman Wall itself was rock hard chunder, and we saw the aftermath (but not the fall itself) of another skier who had fallen, lost his skis, and slid the better part of a thousand vertical feet, unable to arrest, before coming to a stop not too far above a gaping crevasse - scary! And a good reminder for us to take it easy.

Adam skiing the upper Roman Wall, with Colfax Peak far below us.

Below the Roman Wall, however, the skiing was far better than we expected, with a few inches of fresh pow on top of firmer snow - ideal blading conditions. We had a ton of fun absolutely flying past other parties as we skied down to Hogsback Camp, with incredible views.

Adam skiing some late season powder, with Colfax in the distance.

Adam making a speedy pass on the Coleman Glacier.

Adam skiing mellow terrain on the lower Colfax Glacier.

Before we knew it, we were back at our boots, and we skied down until we ran out of snow before making the short hike out to the car - less than two hours after leaving the summit! For those of you that want to play, here’s the same riddle that Adam tortured Matt and I with on the hike out:

Two prisoners are given the opportunity to be released. Each prisoner is taken into a separate room where they are unable to communicate with one another. Before they are separated, they may discuss their strategy, but after that, they cannot communicate further. In their separate rooms, each prisoner flips a standard, unbiased coin, and then must guess what the results of the OTHER prisoner’s flip. If either (or both) prisoners are guess the result of the other’s coin toss correctly, they are both released. If neither one guesses correctly, they are both executed. What strategy should the prisoners use to guarantee their release?

Trip Report: Trekking the Huayhuash Circuit

Hi friends! It’s been a while since my last blog post, so my apologies for the radio silence - I was out on a two week trek around the Cordillera Huayhuash, one of the tallest subranges of the Andes Mountains in Peru. I went with Becca, my parents, and my aunt, and we had an amazing trek, meeting some amazing people and looking at some truly stunning mountains from every side. The Huayhuash are a rugged but relatively small mountain range, effectively a single ridge of glaciated 6,000 meter peaks running north-south, surrounded by relatively gentle, lush terrain with lots of beautiful pasture, lakes, and streams. We were fairly early in the “Andean summer,” which meant that everything was particularly lush and green, but also meant that we had our fair share of rain and hiking in some truly miserable weather. We also were supported by an amazing crew of donkey drivers, two cooks, Tonio & Lolo, our guide Jhon, and our assistant guide Hermalinda.

Days negative 4 through 0: we flew into Lima and then, after a little bit of sleep at an airport hotel, caught an early morning flight to Huaraz, the largest town in the area. I’d been to Huaraz once 10 years ago, before there was an airport! Back then we had to take a 10 hour bus ride from Lima instead. Once in Huaraz, we did a few day hikes to get acclimatized before our trek. Huaraz itself is over 3,000 meters above sea level, meaning we definitely felt the elevation even just walking up the stairs in our hotel.

Dan and Becca hiking through stunning forest on our way to Laguna Urus, on an acclimatization hike.

Day 1: a long drive from Huaraz down almost 1,5000 meters to cross the Río Pativilca valley before going right back up 1,500 meters on the far side. We hiked the last few miles of road to our first camp at Quartelhuain, and had a lovely sunset.

Sunset above our camp on our first night of the trip.

Day 2: we wasted no time, climbing up to Paso Cacanapunta, crossing the Continental Divide and entering the Amazon Basin. We saw a fox and hawks on our pleasant short walk down to our second camp at Janca, then we went out in the afternoon for a stroll over to Laguna Mitococha, with stunning views of Jirishanca towering above us. We headed back to camp and had another lovely sunset. The bridge over the stream near our camp made for a fun spot for group photos.

Our group at sunset at camp on our second night.

Day 3: I got up before dawn to catch the sunrise on Jirishanca, which was absolutely stunning. After breakfast, we set out on our route for the day, which took us high on a ridge above Laguna Mitococha. The clouds descended a bit, blocking our views of the summits, but it was still a gorgeous hike, and the rain held off until we reached our camp at Incahuain, above Laguna Carhuacocha.

Jirishanca and Rondoy before sunrise.

Hiking along the ridge above Mitococha, with the summits in the clouds.

Our temporary canine companion enjoyed a mid-hike snack on the descent to camp.

Day 4: in retrospect, this was the least pleasant day of the trip. We set out under overcast skies for one of the most famous segments of the trek, hiking past the “Tres Lagunas” below Yerupaja. As we arrived at the first lake, it started to rain, and the rain kept up for pretty much the whole day, turning to sleet as we climbed up over a high pass. By the time we arrived at camp at Huayhuash Camp, we were thoroughly soaked.

Enjoying our lunch sheltered from the sleet under a narrow rock outcrop.

Day 5: We barely dried out overnight before heading out to cross Paso Trapecio, on the Continental Divide, and return to the Pacific Ocean side of the range. The weather was a bit ominous, but the rain held off, and we had beautiful views from the pass. On the far side, Nevado Puscanturpa loomed over Elephant Camp (there was really an elephant!), a 5,500 meter peak basalt summit. The juxtaposition of basalt and glacial ice was very cool. That evening, we had a truly stunning sunset come out of the blue, one of the most memorable moments of the trip.

Our Guide Jhon, Margaret, and Becca descending from Paso Trapecio, on the continental divide.

Nevado Puscantrurpa lit up by fiery sunset light.

Day 6: We had beautiful weather for a short but steep day crossing Paso Santa Rosa, with amazing views from the top. That afternoon, we all explored a waterfall close to our camp, before another surprise sunset.

Descending from Paso Santa Rosa, with amazing views of Siula Grande and and Carnicero.

Becca at sunset on the moraine above Jahuacocha.

Day 7: For our “rest day” we set out to climb Cerro Gran Vista, a small bump that was our highest point on our trip, we amazing views across the valley to Siula Grande, the setting for the infamous Touching the Void story. On the climb up, we watched an enormous avalanche rip down the SW Face of Yerupaja.

A huge avalanche ripping down the SW Face of Yerupaja.

Group photo on Cerro Gran Vista, with stunning views of Yerupaja and Siula Grande.

Nevado Jurau above Laguna Juraucocha from the site of an abandoned mine.

Day 8: This day was the only day where we didn’t cross a pass. Instead, we headed down valley towards the village of Huayllapa, then climbed up to our camp at Huatiac. We arrived at camp just after it started raining torrentially, so we all hung out in the tent and played bridge. The rain let up just before sunset, so we went out and watched a mesmerizing scene as fog flowed up the valley below us.

Becca and Margaret above the clouds at sunset.

Nevada Auxilio above our camp, shrouded in clouds.

Day 9: We started the day with a short climb up to Paso Tapush, then descended through lovely meadows before climbing up to Paso Yaucha. The weather was ominous, but we decided to take a more exposed high route along the ridge before descending to our camp at Jahuacocha, which ended up being delightful, with great views. Jahuacocha was our last camp of the trip, and Dan and I were hoping for a stunning sunset to cap things off, but alas, the clouds didn’t relent.

Hiking along the ridge high above Jahuacocha, hidden below to the right.

Limestone cliffs above the Jahuacocha valley.

Day 10: For our last day, we had stunning weather. We hiked around Laguna Jahuacocha, then climbed slowly up to Paso Rondoy, with amazing views of Jirishanca and Yerupaja. As descended the far side of the pass towards our waiting bus, it was amazing how quickly the trip had gone by.

Lupine and Laguna Solteracocha and Yerupaja from our climb up to Paso Rondoy.

Trip Report: A (Partial) Ragged Ridge Ski Traverse

This whole spring I’ve been jonesing to get out into the North Cascades for a ski traverse, but it’s seemed like every weekend has had something come up: bad weather, work, or other commitments (why would you commit to anything other than skiing?). However, the last weekend in April, everything came together: the weather forecast was perfect, the North Cascades Highway was reopening, and my favorite partners Adam and Matt were both free, along with my good friend Alex who was visiting from out of state. The Ragged Ridge seemed to be a natural objective for our time constraints. It’s a fairly accessible ridge within North Cascades National park containing four of the 100 highest mountains in Washington. While I’d climbed all of these summits from the south in the summer, I’d never skied any of them, and I’d always wanted to set foot on the glaciated northern slopes of the ridge.

As we drove up the newly reopened highway, we kept a keen eye on the snow level, as our planned exit would likely require us to bushwhack the last few hundred vertical feet to the road after running out of snow. While there wasn’t as much snow as there had been in previous years when Adam and I had separately skied this exit, things looked reasonable. We dropped Adam’s car at the appropriate spot on the side of SR20 and, having set up a car shuttle, left the Easy Pass trailhead a bit past 8:00 with full packs. We optimistically started skiing as soon as we crossed Granite Creek, but were quickly forced to walk for ~30 mins before reaching properly continuous snow. Before long we popped out of the forest into the open slide path and got our first views of the dramatic North Face of Graybeard, and we cruised up to Easy Pass under bluebird skies, where we got our first views to the south, into the heart of the North Cascades Wilderness.

Matt and Adam having fun on the traverse over to the Meashchie Glacier, far above Fisher Creek. Graybeard at left, with Fisher and Black Peaks in the distance.

After a quick break, we continued up for a few hundred feet before making a steep traverse over towards the Mesahchie Glacier, far above Fisher Creek. We ripped skins for a quick lap into the basin below Kitling Peak, then climbed up to the col that provides access to the glacier. Dropping onto northern aspects, we enjoyed some pretty great turns in spring powder as we descended to the Panther Creek, leaving a few day trippers behind as headed over towards the Ragged Ridge proper. Having descended below a massive rock rib coming down from Mesahchie’s North Ridge, we started our climb onto the Katsuk Glacier as we made our way west.

Adam and Alex climbing on the Katsuk Glacier, with Mesahchie Peak in the background.

With just a bit of afternoon mush, we gained the high ridge connecting Katsuk and Pachyderm Peaks, and crossed onto the Kimtah Glacier, the third and last of the day. We climbed steeply above the glacial icefall, then traversed through beautiful and straightforward terrain to reach the saddle on the Ragged Ridge just below the summit of Cosho Peak, the westernmost and most diminutive summit of the ridge, where we planned on camping.

Adam enjoying views of the Kimtah Glacier icefall, with Cosho peak directly below the sun.

Adam and Matt skinning along the Kimtah Glacier under the afternoon sun.

The views from the saddle were jaw dropping, with many of the North Cascades National Park’s classic peaks laid out before us: Goode, Logan, Buckner, Sahale & Boston, and Forbidden all bathed in afternoon light. I dropped my overnight gear and headed up the last few hundred feet to the summit of Cosho, hoping to catch the sunset. Alas, some clouds descended and blocked my views. No worries! The light from the east in the morning would be even better! I set my alarm for 30 mins before sunrise, and skied down through the steadily darkening whiteout to rejoin the rest of the boys for dinner.

The next morning, as everyone else slumbered, I poked my head out of the tent to find exactly what I had been hoping for: clear skies, and clouds filling the valleys below. I struggled into my frozen-solid ski boots as the sky brightened, and headed back up Cosho for the sunrise, which was truly one of the most stunning in recent memory.

Our camp at dawn, nestled below Thieves Peak. Kimtah and the Kimtah Glacier in the distance.

First light on the North Face of Goode.

Buckner, the Ripsaw Ridge, and the Boston Glacier behind the NW Ridge of Thunder Peak.

Morning panorama from the summit of Cosho. From L>R: Goode, Logan, Buckner, Sahale, Boston, and Forbidden.

I skied back down to camp to join the boys for breakfast, then the four of us went back up Cosho one final time to enjoy the view. I mostly successfully resisted the temptation to retake all the same photos I had taken earlier that morning.

Goode and Storm King in black and white, with Pincer Peak, a subsummit of Logan, in the foreground.

We returned to camp to pack up and make our way out. The traverse past Red Mountain to Fourth of July Pass and Ruby looked straightforward and tempting, but I had promised Alex I wouldn’t let him miss his flight home. I’ll have to come back!

Adam skiing back to camp after climbing Cosho. Kimtah in the clouds in the distance, Thieves Peak above camp.

The skiing on the Kimtah Glacier had a few more pockets of pleasant powder, and before long we were crossing back onto the Katsuk Glaicer. Matt very kindly let Adam and I go ahead to briefly explore an ice cave in the toe of the glacier that we had scouted on the way up, and Adam and I quickly skinned up a few hundred feet to check it out - extremely cool!

Adam skiing along the mouth of an ice cave in the Katsuk Glacier, with Pachyderm Peak in the background.

We caught back up with Matt and Alex on the skin up towards Mesachie Pass and our final descent to the Highway. The views back along the Ragged Ridge from this last climb were stunning, and we could see our entire route over to Cosho and back, along with all the other summits of the Ragged Ridge.

Alex and Adam on the final climb out of Panther Creek, with the entire Ragged Ridge and our route visible. Cub Peak at left, then Mesachie and Katsuk, the Katsuk Glacier, Kimtah, and Cosho at very far right.

We said goodbye to the views to the south and dropped in to the Granite Creek drainage, with the Highway visible 3,000+ feet below us. We skied wet slop until we got into the tighter trees, then in classic spring touring fashion, took it as far down as the remaining snowpack would permit us, then just a bit further. Eventually we called it quits, and strapped our skis onto our packs and booted through the pleasant mossy forest to the valley bottom, where we faced our final challenge: crossing Granite Creek to get back to Adam’s car. With Matt as our talented scout, we linked up a few log crossings and popped out onto the side of the highway, only a little bit behind schedule. Alex made his flight without trouble, but he may not have had time to shower beforehand ;)

Matt crossing Granite Creek

Trip Report: Bailing on the Chiwakum Traverse

I’ve always wanted to ski the Chiwakum Traverse, a classic south-to-north traverse of one of the subranges of the Central Cascades, just north of the Enchantments, and an area I’ve never explored. The weather forecast two weeks ago was marginal, but I was fiending for an overnight traverse, so I was thrilled when Jaclyn suggested that we give it a shot. We packed more warm clothes than usual and set off, dropping Jac’s car at Cascade Meadows and heading up the Icicle for our start.

The weather on Saturday was beautiful but a bit windy, with a storm and a few inches of snow supposed to arrive that night. The sunshine lifted our spirits and we hiked up the Chatter Creek trail with skis on our packs. We crossed the creek just as we encountered snow, around 4,400 feet, and engaged in just the right amount of slow posthole wallowing before the snow was consistent enough to skin. Once on our skis, we made quick progress up the valley, and soon popped out into the slide paths below Grindstone Peak.

The weather still looked great as we approached treeline in the Chatter Creek valley.

A touch of shenanigans were all it took to climb up to the ridge crest and gain access to the Index Creek drainage, but we couldn’t help but notice that clouds were building rapidly.

Jac, fully loaded beneath building clouds, crossing the ridge into the Index Creek drainage.

In the half-hour it took to skin over to Lake Edna, a squall came in and it started snowing moderately hard, with crappy visibility and gusty winds. At the lake, the wind was positively blasting, so we set about excavating a proper tent platform and wall in the shelter of a few scrawny trees.

The best part of hanging out with Jaclyn is that she always has a smile on her face, no matter how bad the weather.

We both hoped that the squall might pass, but as it started to get dark, it showed no sign of clearing. We were in high spirits, and entertained ourselves by skinning out onto the lake and bashing a hole in the ice to find liquid water, saving ourselves from the pain of having to melt snow. As sun set, we skinned the few hundred feet up to the saddle below Cape Horn, where the wind was truly indescribably powerful. I watched hunkered from behind a rock as Jac, perhaps less dense than I, was literally blown over by a gust. We retreated our tent to make dinner, enhanced by the entire bag of fresh spinach that Jac had brought (“gotta get that protein!”)

Harvesting drinking water from Lake Edna.

It snowed on and off all night, and we awoke to a whiteout and a few inches of fresh snow on the tent. At least the wind had abated a bit. We made breakfast and packed up as we contemplated bailing. We were both confident we could safely continue, but it seemed likely that the skiing would be mediocre and we wouldn’t really be able to see anything, which for me was what I was most excited about. Jaclyn, who I’m pretty sure will enthusiastically declare just even the most atrocious ski conditions “soo great!” was more excited to press on - I appreciate her making me feel like a curmudgeon.

We skinned back up to the Cape Horn saddle as we waffled, where Jac “accidentally” dropped her pole down the far side in order to have an excuse to rip skins and ski to retrieve it. “This is so awesome!” she yelled as I watched (and listened) to her ski refrozen windblown crust. After she retrieved her pole, my curmugeon-ness prevailed, and we decided to head back to my car. (I’m sure the fact that I had my mountain bike with me, and Jaclyn didn’t, had nothing to do with it.)

Jac retrieving her “accidentally” dropped pole.

The skiing back down past Lake Edna was variable, with zero to three inches of fresh snow on top of crust, but Jac's stoke was still high. We reached the ridge above Chatter Creek at 10:45, and, feeling badly about being no fun, I suggested we drop packs and take a bonus lap down a thousand feet to the meadows to the north. I set the skin track back out to retrieve our packs, then we dropped onto the south side of the ridge and skied mank down to Chatter Creek.

Skiing below Lake Edna.

Climbing up to the ridge dividing Chatter and Index Creeks.

We skied along our uptrack down the valley, pushing in a few places, before we started to run out of snow. Relishing my one and only opportunity to embrace the snow quality (or lack thereof) more than Jac, I made it through a few hundred vertical feet more of shitfuck exit shenanigans before tapping out and strapping my skis to my pack. We cruised down the trail in light rain to my car, bringing only a few stowaway ticks with us. (Jac drowned hers, and I incinerated mine on the electric burner of Matt’s stove.)

Trip Report: A Surprise Storm on Dragontail

The weekend before last, Matt and Adam and I headed into the Enchantments for another ski traverse. We had been toying with the notion for skiing in the North Cascades, but with unsettled weather forecast for Sunday, we pivoted at the last minute to the east side in the hope of more sun, and I’m sure glad we did, because we ended up getting caught in a surprise storm. I’m glad we weren’t in a committed spot up high on a glacier!

After some faffing in the morning, we drove to Eightmile Campground and started walking up the bare road for a few miles until we hit snow and started skinning. We reached the summer trailhead at 10:00 and headed up into the woods.

Adam balancing on the Mountaineer’s Creek bridge.

Travel conditions in the forest were a little unpleasant, with very firm refrozen chunder. It was however pretty easy to follow the trail, which had a good amount of traffic on it, and we reached the turnoff for Colchuck Lake by lunch time. It was a beautiful, warm, and calm day, so we enjoyed a bit of sunbathing on some nice rocks at the lakeshore. After lunch we skinned across the lake and started heading up towards Asgard Pass. It was a slog breaking trail through variable snow up to the pass, and ski crampons were helpful.

Matt with some heavy snow glopping on his skins.

Adam on the skin track nearing Aasgard Pass.

At the pass we soaked up the views of the upper Enchantments, and decided to head towards Dragontail to camp. We skinned up towards the saddle on the SE ridge and booted the last 50 feet which was quite firm. It was windy at the saddle, so we spent a while digging a nice tent platform and wind wall before heading out for an evening ski lap.

Skinning towards Dragontail.

Matt in a particularly deep posthole near our campsite.

At 18:00 we headed out for an evening ski of the Witches Tower Couloir. We skinned below the ridge towards the SE Peak of Dragontail. We continued until just before the SE Peak then transitioned at a spot on the ridge where it was easy to drop east, then skied 50 degree steep firm crust to the top of the couloir. The couloir is pretty short, but it skied quite nicely and was beautiful with evening light. We then retraced our skin track and bootpack back to camp at 19:00 and continued booting the short ways to the summit of Dragontail to watch the sunset. We had stunning views all the way from Adams to Baker, and it was also neat to be able to see out of the mountains down to Wenatchee and Cle Elum, even if we didn’t get much color in the sunset. We skied down very firm crust back to camp as it was getting dark.

Adam skiing the Witches Tower Couloir above Aasgard Pass.

Group photo at sunset on top of Dragontail.

I left the boys in the tent when I got up at dawn to go back up Dragontail for sunrise. Some clouds had come in overnight and were blowing just a few hundred feet above the summit. When the sun rose, I was treated to a few minutes of gorgeous backlit light above Prusik Peak, but the light didn't last long as the sun rose above the cloud deck. By 7:00 a few flurries came in and I skied back to camp. It was snowing decently hard by now, and with Adam and Matt still in their sleeping bags, I decided to climb back in to the tent, too. I thought the showers would pass, so we hunkered down to see if weather would improve. We made breakfast and coffee cozy in the tent with snow pattering on the fly.

Sunrise behind the Temple.

Beautiful morning light in the Enchantments, from high on Dragontail.

Daniel in the stormy morning light.

We hung out in the tent for a while, but the weather didn’t get much better, so we decided to head on out. Our plan was to ski Pandora’s Box to access the Colchuck Glacier, but the total white-out meant shit visibility, and it was hard to find the entrance to couloir. We skinned across the basin and then booted up to the entrance following old tracks. We found the entrance without too much trouble, and dropped in under very flat light. It was too bad not to have awesome views of Stuart right in front of us, but the whiteout was pretty neat in its own right. We cut right at the bottom of the couloir and side stepped through some rocks to get to Banshee Pass around 10:00. None of us seemed particularly excited about climbing Colchuck, so we skied extraordinarily heavy glop down the Colchuck Glacier to the lake, descending out of the clouds as we did so. We skated across the lake as more clouds came in.

Adam and Matt hunting for the entrance to Pandora’s Box.

Matt in the gut of Pandora’s Box in a total whiteout.

Adam skiing the Colchuck Glacier as we dropped below the clouds.

The ski down to the valley bottom was entertaining, except I took a pretty good tumble in one spot—a good reminder to be careful skiing in the trees! We reached the Stuart Lake trail junction in short order and continued down the trail to the summer trailhead at 12:10 with occasional deproach skiing shenanigans. With the exception of the one short uphill near Eightmile trailhead, it was pleasant cruising down the road to our boots, and we walked down the road to the car at 13:15.

Gallery: Camping in Death Valley

Over Spring Break I spent three days in camping in Death Valley with Becca, Helene, and my parents. Death Valley is probably my favorite National Park in California. I love how, with so little soil and vegetation, the raw forces of geology and erosion are so plainly visible across the landscape. On this trip we visited a few places that I’ve been to several times (Mesquite Flat Sand Dunes, Dante’s View) but also some spots I hadn’t visited before (Ubehebe Crater, Titus Canyon). Every time I go to Death Valley I am reminded how I’ve only ever been to the easily accessible parts - since the National Park nearly the same size as Puerto Rico, there’s always more to see, and I’m sure I’ll be back.

Here are a few of my favorite pics from this trip.

Contrasty afternoon light in the Mesquite Flat Sand Dunes

Mom hiking in the Mesquite Flat Sand Dunes

Sunset in the dunes

Fleeting sunrise colors

Mesquite Flat Sand Dunes detail

Cracked dried mud near Stovepipe Wells

A rainbow of rock colors and textures in Mosaic Canyon

Multicolored rock near the rim of Ubehebe Crater

Panorama of the Panamints near Ubehebe Crater

Eroded landscape near Ubehebe Crater

The eroded rim of Ubehebe Crater contrasts with the alluvial plains across the valley

Dusk in the badlands near Zabriskie Point

Badwater as seen from near Artist’s Palette

Devil’s Golf Course

Hiking in the Amargosa Mountains near Dante’s View

The salt flats near Badwater, as seen from a vertical mile above, at Dante’s View

Gallery: Ski Touring in the Wasatch and Cedar Breaks

I spent 60 hours in Utah over Spring Break, sandwiched between a wedding in Texas and a trip to Death Valley. I had pretty lucky timing, arriving on a beautiful sunny Monday afternoon, getting slammed with 25 inches of snow in 24 hours on Tuesday, before Wednesday was back to beautiful sunny weather. Will generously hosted me in Salt Lake City and encouraged me to ski Tuesday’s storm, even though he was stuck at work, and I had a proper Wasatch experience: blower powder, godawful traffic, and an interlodge to boot. On the way to Nevada I also stopped to catch the sunrise at Cedar Breaks National Monument, where my skis again came in handy as I toured around the snowy canyon rim. Here are just a few photos!

Luke demonstrating the superiority of telemark skiing powder in Little Cottonwood Canyon

Will dropping in for an after-work tour, with evening light to the north.

Luke and Will skinning back up for another lap at dusk.

Sunrise panorama at Cedar Breaks

Morning light on the rim of Cedar Breaks

Snow-filled cracks in a sandstone outcropping make for interesting patterns on the rim of Cedar Breaks.

Gallery: Photos from Recent Ski Tours

I’ve gotten out for a bunch of lovely ski tours in the past few weeks, visiting places both popular and seldom skied, and experiencing just about every weather and snow condition imaginable. None of these trips were interesting enough to warrant their own blog posts, but I wanted to share a few photos. Let me know what you think!

Vadim and Luke skinning past the Thumb Tack, below Chair' Peak’s impressive East Face in some dramatic light.

Adam skiing powder on Jim Hill.

Matt inspecting the buried outhouses at Chinook Pass.

Matt skinning up the shoulder of Deadwood Peak with Mount Rainier in the distance.

Jaclyn cruising up a skin track in the Alpine Lakes wilderness.

Jaclyn skiing high above Gold Creek, with Chickamin in the background.

Jaclyn skiing a tight couloir in the Silver Creek valley.

Clouds roll in as Jaclyn skis steep slopes in the Alpine Lakes wilderness.

Classic PNW whiteout pow skiing!

Gallery: Deception Pass with Helene

Way overdue here, but last January Helene and I jetted out for a quick sunset at Deception Pass, and had a lovely time strolling around the shore. It’s so close to Seattle, but really lovely there. Here are a few pics!

An Eagle watching the tide flow through the Pass, with Deception Island in the distance.

The incoming tide flowing up a little ravine near Lighthouse Point.

Looking east towards the bridges at dusk.

Dusk at Bowman Bay.

Classic shot of the Bowman Bay pier.

Trip Report: Rogers Pass with Matt and Adam

I’m a bit late writing this blog post, but at the very start of February, Adam and Matt and I had an amazing but brief trip up to Rogers Pass in the interior of British Columbia for 3.5 days of great backcountry skiing. I’ve skied at Rogers on many trips, but never made it up last season, so I was excited to get out this year with my favorite touring partners.

We had good timing with our trip, arriving just after the end of the January drought. However, the new snowfall and cold temperatures made for a less stable snowpack, and the associated higher avalanche risk limited our options somewhat. As a result, it seemed like many folks opted to ski elsewhere, so we had a wonderful trip that felt different from most of my past times at Rogers, with a lot of trailbreaking through deep snow and normally popular and crowded areas all to ourselves. Our first two days were pretty stormy, but the sun came out on day three, and we were able to push out above treeline for what was truly the highlight of the trip: skiing the ultra-classic Youngs Traverse (one of the 50 Classic Ski Descents of North America) in complete solitude, with absolutely frigid temps (-3°F!), blower powder, and sunshine. Definitely one of the most memorable days of touring I’ve ever done.

Day 0: After a late start on the drive north from Seattle, avalanche control on Eagle Pass kept us waiting, and we didn’t get into Revelstoke until 2:30am.

Days 1 & 2: 20-30 cm of snow overnight kept the restricted areas closed and avalanche danger limited our options, so we headed up Connaught Creek to ski Ursus Trees. We had a grand time skiing pillows and trees.

Adam skinning up Hospital Bowl in stormy weather, looking down Connaught Creek.

Matt skiing in the trees.

Adam dropping some pillows. You win some…

…and lose others. We call him “backslap billy” for a reason!

Adam sure has a cute smile :)

Day 3: Youngs Traverse into Seven Steps to Paradise. The started off cold and overcast, causing us to second guess our choice of objective. We headed up from Illecillewaet parking, following a decent amount of traffic along Asulkan Brook, but when we turned off towards the Great Glacier trail, we were a bit surprised that no one had skied out that way recently. We were a little worried about clouds on the glacier, but as we slowly broke trail through a foot of powder up towards the edge of the glacier, the clouds cleared up and it turned into a beautiful bluebird day. It was freezing in the shade with strong with downslope winds. My thermometer read -3°F, and Adam thrilled to show off his new “nose hat”. We made slow but steady progress up onto the toe of the glacier, with the views of Mount Sir Donald and neighboring peaks getting better and better as we got higher.

Adam breaking trail through deep snow up towards the toe of the Illecillewaet Glacier.

Matt and Adam breaking trail in the freezing shade below Glacier Crest.

Skiing towards Glacier Crest just below the Illecillewaet Glacier.

As we traversed along the ridge towards the Forever Young couloir, Youngs Peak with its heavily corniced North Ridge came into view, as did the Dawson Range to the south. We could see our lonely skintrack receding for miles into the distance, and we reflected on the amazing spot we had all to ourselves. Lingering clouds over the summit of Youngs kept the light dramatic, but we carefully switchbacked past the massive cornices to reach the summit.

Matt and Adam breaking trail towards Youngs Peak. What an amazing sense of solitude out there!

Dramatic light on the way to Youngs Peak.

Matt and Adam approaching Youngs Peak, with our skintrack receding into the distance miles behind us. Stunning views of Eagle Peak, Uto Peak, Mount Sir Donald, and Terminal Peak.

Matt and Adam on the summit of Youngs Peak, with Mounts Fox and Dawson towering across the Geikie Glacier, out of sight.

We wasted no time transitioning, and Adam dropped onto Northwest Face of Youngs first as Matt and I waited, a bit anxious about the snow stability as Adam briefly dipped out of sight. He radioed back up to us, letting us know he was in a safe spot, and Matt skied next, followed by me. The light on Mount Jupiter and the headwaters of the Incomappleux River was incredible, and the turns were utterly blower. We skied the first pitch down to lower angle slopes, and we could see no tracks at all for 1,000+ meters below us. The skiing was fantastic and deep as we turned right onto Seven Steps, and I had fun taking pictures of skiing in the beautiful evening light. It was truly magical.

Adam dropping onto the Northwest Face of Youngs Peak as clouds swirl above Asulkan Pass.

Matt skiing Seven Steps, with the Asulksan Valley far below us, and stunning views of the Mount Rogers Massif, Avalanche Peak, and Eagle Peak.

The exit out Asulkan Brook was straightforward but slower than I remembered. As we descended deeper into the valley we watched the last light fade on the summits above us, and, not much later, alpenglow lit them up. We skated out the old railroad grade under a clear and cold sky and reached the car just as the first stars were coming out, feeling properly tired from a long day of breaking trail the whole way.

Adam and Matt in the Asulkan Valley on the way out, with last light on the Mount Rogers massif in the distance.

Day 4: With another beautiful day in the forecast, I was a bit disappointed that we couldn’t get back to Seattle too late. Nonetheless, we made the most of it, getting an early start. We left the Discovery Centre as soon as the restricted zones were posted open for the day, and were the first party up Connaught. We broke trail up Grizzly shoulder through deep snow in 0° temps, before being caught shortly below the top by a group of Norwegians. Working as a team we made quick work of the rest of the trailbreaking. The Norwegians dropped in just below the top of the shoulder, and just the three of us finished setting a skin track up the sneaky ramp to access Puff Daddy. It was a beautiful descent looking out towards Mount MacDonald, and at the bottom we traversed right to catch Connaight Creek near the car.

Matt on the Grizzly Shoulder skintrack with Cheops in the distance.

Adam and Matt breaking trail up to the top of Grizzly Shoulder.

Adam and Matt dropping into Puff Daddy, with Mount MacDonald’s North Face looking above the highway.

Adam and Matt skiing with amazing views of MacDonald and Eagle Peak.

We crossed the creek and regained our up track for a second lap. The clock was ticking towards our agreed upon time to start descending, so we booked it up our skintrack (lots more traffic on it by the time we took our second lap!) to see how high we could get before 12:30 pm. We nearly topped out the shoulder before taking final lap down through glades back to the car, but I was sad to leave such a beautiful place with hours of daylight left. We settled in for a long, cold drive back home through the Arctic outflow in the Fraser River valley.

Adam ripping a beautiful turn down Grizzly Shoulder, with Cheops looming across the Connaught Creek valley.

Trip Report: Bringing Blades to a Gunn Fight

A few weeks ago, Adam and I headed out to ski Gunn Peak, the tallest mountain in an area of the Cascades I’d never explored. With a low elevation start and some steep climbers’ trail through the forest before hitting skiable terrain, this was the perfect mission for us to bring out our ski blades. We had some crappy skiing conditions, beautiful views, and good brother time on a pretty mellow overnight.

Sloan Peak, the Monte Cristo summits, Spire Mountain, Glacier Peak, and the Dakobed range at sunset.

After a relaxed morning and a nice lunch at the Sultan Bakery, we drove easily all the way to the trailhead, which was chilly with the temperature inversion. We left the car just before 14:00 with skis on our packs and only three hours to go before sunset. There was only one other car parked along the road, and we’d hadn’t even made it to Barclay Creek before we ran into it’s owner, who looked at the skis on our packs, laughed to himself, and said "boy, you two have a long way to get before you reach snow." An auspicious start.

Adam crossing Barclay Creek.

We crossed Barclay Creek with careful balance and minimal trouble, and headed up the steep but easy to follow climbers trail on the far side. We started encountering patchy snow a few hundred feet below the "tricky" gully crossing which itself wasn't bad. On the far side of the gully, there was more consistent snow, and we booted up through some icy sections until we popped out of the trees and got our first nice views of Wing Peak. Although we could have switched to skiing earlier, booting seemed efficient, so we continued up to about 4,700 ft before leaving our hiking boots where the previous tracks we had been following ended. We continued following the summer route, skinning up the ridge saddle at 5,400 ft between Wing and Tailgunner where we found a nice spot to camp.

Skinning towards our camp with Baring and Barclay Lake behind.

With half an hour until sunset, we left out overnight gear and headed out to watch the sunset from Wing Peak. We traversed the ridge and ascended very crusty steep snow with the aid of ski crampons to reach the top of Wing, where we were rewarded with beautiful views in all directions, including Glacier Peak to the north, along with a great angle of Baring’s incredible Northeast Face. Before it got truly dark, we skied some impressively manky crust off the summit back to our campsite, and had a good time digging a nice tent platform and making dinner. My thermometer showed 16°, but it was very calm, so we hung out outside watching the stars before the increasing wind blew us into our sleeping bags.

Summit Chief, Chimney Rock, Lemah, and Chickamin to the left of Baring.

Adam skiing awful snow off the summit of Wing Peak at dusk.

The starry night sky over Wing, Baring, and more mountains to the south.

After a pleasant night, I got up for sunrise and snapped some pictures before breakfast. We headed off towards Gunn just before 9:00, skinning a short ways west before skiing a fun gully and traversing into the basin south of Gunn. 15 minutes of skiing up firm snow brought us to the “hidden ramp” that provides access to the upper slopes of Gunn. This was about 100 vertical feet of firm 50° snow, which we made quick work of in our boot crampons. By 10:00 we were booting across the upper snowfield in the sun towards the V notch between Gunn’s true and east summits. It was easy to reach the notch, but the steep snow on the north side dropped an airy 3,000+ feet down into Trout Creek and seemed like a bad idea to solo. We regrouped, and by backtracking 100 feet we found a 15-20 foot class 3 rock scramble (doable in ski boots) that let us gain access to the East Ridge. 150 more vertical feet of easy but airy snow climbing brought us to the summit at 10:45. Great views in all directions, including down to the Index Town walls from far above.

Chimney Rock and Baring at sunrise.

Adam skinning towards the “hidden ramp” below Gunn’s impressive West Face.

Adam climbing steep snow to access the East Ridge of Gunn, with Wing and Baring in the distance.

The class 3/4 scramble we used to access the East Ridge.

Easy snow on the East Ridge just below the summit of Gunn.

After enjoying the view, we retraced our steps without trouble and retrieved our skis from the V notch. There was nice corn on the upper slopes, then we skied the hidden ramp very carefully as it was icy and shitty, side stepping much of it. The fan below was fun skiing, and quickly we were putting skins on to head back up to camp.

Skiing the upper slopes of Gunn, with Tailgunner and Index in the distance.

Adam skiing the steep “hidden ramp” on Gunn

Skiing Gunn’s lower slopes, with Merchant and Wing in the background.

We got back to camp at noon and packed up to descend to the car. We skinned a short distance back towards Tailgunner before ripping skins and following our tracks back down into the forest. We retrieved our boots and enjoyed entertaining vegetated skiing all the way down to an icy section at 4100 feet, just above the gully. We put our skis on our packs here and used boot crampons to descend the ice, then changed into hiking boots to cross the gully. After a bit of unpleasant icy forest descending, we cruised down to Barclay Creek and were back at the car just past 14:30.

Adam skiing below camp, with Baring across the valley.

Descending an icy section of the forest on our way back to the car.

Trip Report: Tomyhoi Peak

My paper crunch for the ICWSM deadline last month left me jonesing for a fun overnight ski trip where I could camp in a beautiful spot. Our January high pressure system gave me just the opportunity to do so, so I blew off work for a mellow midweek solo trip to climb Tomyhoi, a peak I’ve looked at many times but had never climbed before.

I had a relaxed start packing up in the morning, and left Seattle around 9:30, driving easily up the Chain Lakes road to the old Keep Kool trail at 3,000 feet. The road and forest was bone dry until just a few hundred feet down the road from the trailhead. I threw my skis on my pack and left the car at 12:45 in hiking boots, following the old trail without any trouble for about a thousand vertical feet before switching to skinning, getting my first glimpses of Shuksan with some wisps of clouds through the trees.

First views of Mount Shuksan through the forest.

I followed a few snowshoe and ski tracks along the buried trail to the flat basin below Yellow Aster Butte at ~5,300 feet where I stopped for lunch. It was a beautiful day with clouds blowing through some of the summits, but I was disappointed to see that the basin had a whole bunch of snowmobile tracks illegally inside the wilderness area. Lame.

Sled tracks through the basin below Yellow Aster Butte. Snowmobiles are not permitted in the Mount Baker Wilderness (nor any other wilderness).

I continued at a slow pace taking pictures up the ridge towards Tomyhoi as the clouds thickened and blew around me into a whiteout. With about 30 mins before sunset, I dropped my pack just below the 6,500 bump on Tomyhoi’s south ridge. As the fog swirled I got intermittent fleeting dreamlike views of Larrabee and Winchester and the Border Peaks, then just after sunset the fog quickly cleared and I had stunning views of Mount Baker and Shuksan in poking up over clouds in the valley. It was an lovely evening that chilled off quickly as I dug out a tent platform in the dark - my thermometer read 14 degrees Fahrenheit.

Shuksan above Yellow Aster Butte

The Border Peaks and Larrabee emerging from the fog

Yellow Aster Butte’s steep north side, with Goat rising out of the clouds behind.

Dusk over Mount Baker

Stars over American Border Peak, Larrabee, and Winchester

I got up half an hour before sunrise and enjoyed photographing the crystal clear morning, with lovely light on Baker and Damfino Peak, which looks pretty rugged from this angle.

Morning light on Larrabee

Sunrise behind the Pickets and Shuksan.

An appropriately dorky self portrait at camp, with Baker in the background.

I made breakfast then left camp with a light pack just before 9:00 and headed up towards Tomyhoi. I skinned for only a few minutes before ripping skins to ski for a few good steep turns down into the notch between the bump and the rest of the mountain. From there, it was easy skinning onto the broad plateau east of the summit. Rather than climbing over the false summit, as the standard summit route goes, I decided to try a more direct route, crossing the rib coming to the east of the false summit before skinning about 200 vertical feet of steep wind affected snow until close to the saddle between the summits, then rather than continuing to the saddle, I booted up a steep gully that deposited me onto the ridge just south of the true summit about 100 feet above the saddle. Very cool views all the way down into the Fraser valley and Abbotsford. I skinned about 200 vertical feet of quite steep wind affected snow until close to the saddle between the summits, then rather than continuing to the saddle I booted up a steep gully that deposited me onto the North ridge of the summit about 100 feet above the saddle. From the top of the gully, I left my skis, and 5 minutes of easy but exposed scrambling brought me to the true summit at 10:30. Stunning views in all directions, including a cool view of Damfino Peak, Mount Rexford, and even the skyscrapers of Vancouver, almost 70 miles to the west.

My skintrack up from the Tomyhoi Glacier towards the saddle between the false and true summits, with American Border Peak in the background.

The final scramble up to the summit of Tomyhoi, taken on the descent.

On the descent, I retraced my steps, and had fun skiing the gully back to the Tomyhoi Glacier, where with some traversing and a little shuffling I was able to ski all the way down to the notch near camp. I skinned out of the notch, then skied back to camp about 30 mins after leaving the summit. After packing up camp and eating lunch, I skied back to the basin below YAB and skinned up to the top of Keep Kool Butte for a more direct descent. There were nice views along High Divide, and the south face of Keep Kool Butte skied well with just a kiss of sun softening. The woods below were manky, and I intercepted my uptrack shortly before running out of snow. I grabbed my stashed hiking boots and walked baack to the car around 2pm. Great trip and I didn't see a soul the entire time (although once again the sled trackers were lame).

Trip Report: South Ridge of Chair Peak

The weekend before last, in the midst of this unusual mid-January high pressure system, Adam and Matt and I went out and climbed Chair Peak, a mountain that I’ve been near countless times but had never summitted. Although the NE Buttress is the classic ice climbing route, we opted instead to climb an easier route via the bowl to the east of the mountain so we could ascend what we were planning on skiing. It ended up being a great day out with stunning views from the top - an excellent choice given the conditions and our other constraints.

We got a leisurely start, leaving the throngs of AIARE courses in the Alpental parking lot and heading up past Source Lake towards the Snow Lake Divide. As we climbed towards the divide, there were neat wisps of clouds blowing up the Alpental Valley and over towards Snow Lake. We made quick progress up past the Thumb Tack into the big basin to the east of Chair Peak, and, rather then climbing the SE Face “gully” that is the standard descent route for ice climbers, we headed one gully further climbers’ left which looked like better skiing. We booted up the last bit of this gully to reach the South Ridge, then, with no promising skiing ahead of us, left our skis for the rest of the climb. We descended about 50 vertical feet on the west side of the ridge to bypass a rocky rib, then roped up to simul climb a traversing pitch of steep exposed snow to reach the ridge again. We made a short rappel to get past a step on the ridge, leaving a fixed line for our return, then booted up a steep gully and easier snow to reach the summit.

Clouds below The Tooth from the skintrack on the way up.

Matt demonstrating his nutrition strategy for optimal performance. Chair Peak behind.

Matt and Adam skinning into the basin below the East Face of Chair Peak. We climbed and skied the widest gully just above Adam.

Adam booting up the gully that we used to access the South Ridge of Chair.

A neat view of the skyscrapers in Downtown Seattle poking out from behind Mount Si’s Haystack, with the Olympics across Puget Sound in the distance.

Adam leading a pitch of steep exposed snow, with Chair Peak’s summit in the distance.

We ran into a party of ice climbers on the summit, and said howdy before retracing our steps back to our skis. The gully we had climbed out of the basin was pretty steep but very aesthetic, although with variable wind crust our turns were perhaps less aesthetic. The basin below the ridge was pretty mediocre skiing, with one or two decent turns, and pretty soon we were skiing chunder down the Source Lake fan and racing out the luge track back to the ski area.

Adam just below the summit of Chair Peak, with Snow Lake below to the left.

Matt and Adam descending the gully below the summit of Chair.

Adam and Matt descending steep snow towards our skis.

Adam skiing the steep gully above the eastern basin of Chair Peak.

All in all it was a great trip!

Best Photos of 2024

2024 seemed to fly by, and once again I feel incredibly lucky to have had another great year full of so many incredible moments with so many great people! Last spring we took advantage of less wintery than usual weather to get out on some amazing ski traverses, and then enjoyed several trips to the east side of the Cascades for climbing and biking, the mountains over there seemed even more full of spring flowers than usual. Despite travel to exciting places including Singapore, Japan, and Costa Rica, the most important and memorable part of last year took place close to home: Becca proposed to me after a great day of climbing in Index after watching the Aurora the night before, and we’re super excited to get married this coming summer!

Last summer went by quickly as well, with great trips to Michigan’s Upper Peninsula, the Adirondacks, and climbing in the Bugaboos with some good friends. Fall brought amazing colors in the mountains and the lowlands and some great backpacking trips with friends and family, and then winter arrived in time for some fun in the snow before an end-of-year trip to Mexico for climbing over the holidays.

It’s always hard to pick, but here are some of my favorite photos from last year! Let me know what you think, and here’s to a great 2025!

Sunrise on Mount Rainier during a great traverse of the Tatoosh Range. Mount Rainier NP, WA, February 2024.

Matt making the most of a mediocre midwinter snowpack on a sunny day. Dorado Needle and Eldorado Peak in the background. Mount Baker-Snoqualmie NF, WA, February 2024.

Primus, Eldorado, and Dorado Needle as seen in this panorama from the summit of Ruby Mountain. North Cascades NP, WA, March 2024.

Icy Peak shrouded in cloud, as seen from the summit of Ruth Mountain on the first night of our amazing traverse over to Mount Shuksan. North Cascades NP, WA, March 2024.

Adam and Matt gazing at our route across the Nooksack Cirque before climbing Mount Shuksan (summit in distant upper right). North Cascades NP, WA, March 2024.

Adam and Matt skiing the Upper Curtis Glacier in a disorienting whiteout on the final day of our three day traverse. North Cascades NP, WA, March 2024.

Dunlin riding through a hillside of Balsamroot Flower. Leavenworth, WA, April 2024.

The Northern Lights over Mount Index and the Skykomish River, the night before Becca and I got engaged. Index, WA, May 2024.

Spring flowers at Kegon Falls during a quick solo trip to Japan on the way back from a conference in Singapore. Tochigi Prefecture, Japan, May 2024.

Sunset at Grand Portal Point on the shore of Lake Superior, during a great backpacking trip with Serena. Pictured Rocks National Lakeshore, MI, June 2024.

Becca climbing Like Honey at Index, with Mount Index lit up with the evening light behind. Index, WA, June 2024.

Lenticular clouds form over Mount Rainier at sunrise ahead of an incoming storm. I took this photo on a short solo overnight to shoot some film panoramas. Mount Rainier NP, WA, June 2024.

Helene and Becca descending towards the Blue Glacier after an extremely stormy ascent of Mount Olympus. Olympic NP, WA, June 2024.

Becca at sunrise with Snowpatch Spire in the background, during an amazing climbing trip in the Bugaboos, highlighted by an ascent of the classic NE Ridge of Bugaboo Spire. Bugaboo Provincial Park, BC, Canada, July 2024.

Sean, Becca, and Eric carefully traversing the exposed summit ridge of Bugaboo Spire, with the Howser Towers in the background. Bugaboo Provincial Park, BC, Canada, July 2024.

Morning light on grain bins in the Palouse region of eastern Washington, during a stop on my road trip to Wyoming. Whitman County, WA, July 2024.

The Milky Way over a grain elevator in eastern Washington, where I camped before heading to Wyoming. Whitman County, WA, July 2024.

Adam and Becca ascending what remains of the Colonial Glacier on a blustery late summer day, enroute to climb Snowfield. North Cascades NP, WA, August 2024.

Sunrise light on Paul Bunyan’s Stump, with some late summer flowers in the foreground. North Cascades NP, WA, August 2024.

Mike climbing Ragged Edge on Vesper Peak on the one smoky weekend of the summer. Mount Baker-Snoqualmie NF, WA, September 2024.

Stormy light on Three Fingers and Whitehorse Mountains on an abortive attempt to climb Mixup Peak. Glacier Peak Wilderness, WA, September 2024.

Sunrise over Stiletto Lake on a great backpacking trip with friends. North Cascades NP, WA, October 2024.

Adam riding through a golden larch forest on a birthday celebration trip. Sawtooth Mountains, WA, October 2024.

Fall colors at Elowah Falls on McCord Creek. Columbia River Gorge NRA, Oregon, November 2024.

Clouds filling the Alpental Valley pour over the Snow Lake divide on a post-Thanksgiving ski trip. Alpine Lakes Wilderness, WA, December 2024.

Adam getting a little airtime on an early season ski trip near Stevens Pass, WA, December 2024.

Adam enjoying some turns in the sun on an early season ski trip near Stevens Pass, WA, December 2024.

Becca climbing a route called Nosferatus in the stunning Tecolote Cave in El Salto, Nuevo Leon, Mexico, December 2024.

Trip Report: A few days in El Portrero Chico

After visiting El Salto, Becca and I headed back through Monterrey to El Portrero Chico for a few more days of climbing. EPC is a more well known spot than El Salto, and is famous for its long bolted multipitch climbs. We met up with our friends Ash and Brendan there, and had a lovely time, although we might have liked El Salto even more.

The highlight of our trip for me was supporting Becca on an amazing onsight attempt on El Sendero Luminso, a 15 pitch 5.12+ that is one of the most famous and challenging routes in EPC. Unfortunately Becca fell on the crux move of the crux pitch, but onsighted every single other part of the route - she’s a total badass!

The limestone geology of the area is amazing, and we enjoyed incredible views up high near the top of the route before descending pretty much the whole thing in the dark.

We got a lazy start on our first day, and met up with some other friends before climbing Blind Faith, a three pitch 5.11 (most parties skip the fourth pitch). I led the crux and thought it was challenging but fun. We got a nice view of another party across the canyon from us before heading to Las Agujas (“the spires,” two rock needles) to climb the classic Aguja Celo Rey, which climbs up smaller of the two spires with a very cool second pitch.

Climbers across the canyon from us, as seen from Blind Faith.

On day 2, Becca and I wanted to climb something a bit harder as a warm up for an attempt on El Sendero Luminoso. We picked Zapatista, a five pitch 5.12. The approach was loose and unpleasant, although the vegetation was very cool. Unfortunately, neither of us really enjoyed the climbing, which was fairly vegetated, and we decided to bail after the crux pitch. As an upside, I got to try out my new 2mm dyneema pull cord for the long rap. That evening, we got organized and went to bed early for an early start on El Sendero Luminso the next day.

Cool vegetation on the approach to Zapatista.

El Bobo (“the dunce”) as seen from near the base of Zapatista.

We left our place early and reached the base of the route just as it started to get light. We were thrilled to have the route all to ourselves, and Becca immediately started dispatching the very sustained first five pitches, with me belaying and jugging after her. It was amazing watching Becca climb, and, although she unfortunately fell on the crux move of P2, she did an incredible job. We got to put some new systems for us to the test, and we reached the bivy ledge, roughly halfway in effort, with lots of daylight left. We were feeling good.

Sunrise over the city of Hidalgo from the top of P1 or P2 of El Sendero Luminoso.

At the ledge we had some food and started off on the second half of the route, with ten more pitches to go. Becca led all the hard climbing, and I took over the sharp end for two of the less-than-stellar vegetated throwaway pitches. We weren’t making awesome time, but we could reach the top of the route before dark. We liked the idea of finishing the route, but that would mean we would be descending the 15 rappels to the ground mostly in the dark. We decided to go for it, and we spent the rest of the afternoon climbing alone, high above town, but listening to mariachi music floating up to us from people partying near the mouth of the canyon more than 1,000 vertical feet straight below us. Surreal.

Becca following one of the less-than-classic pitches (P10) high on the route.

We reached the top of the route about 30 mins before sunset, and wasted no time starting to descend. As darkness fell, we continued to hear all the festivities in town below us - some memorable rappels! We decided to take it very slowly and carefully on the rappels. It was already dark, so no need to rush, and we didn’t want to do anything stupid - it was descending this route where famous climber Brad Gobright died after rapping off the end of his rope in 2019. We made it down without incident, although both of us were ready to get out of our harnesses by the time we reached the ground, and after hiking back to our rented house, it was an 18.5 hour day door to door.

Climbers’ lights in the distance at dusk from near the top of El Sendero Luminoso.

Becca rappeling in the dark, with the lights of town far below.

We had only one more day to climb, so despite being a bit tired from the day before, Becca and I linked up with Ash and Brendan to go back to Las Agujas and get back on Aguja Celo Rey for a fun last climb. Ash did a great job on the airy second pitch, while I led us up Off the Notch, which goes up the opposite spire for a very cool view. We descended by headlamp and had a great dinner to cap a great trip!

Ash leading the second pitch of Aguja Celo Rey.

Ash and Brendan on top of the smaller aguja after climbing Aguja Celo Rey, as seen from the top of the other spire

The next morning (New Years Eve), Becca and I said goodbye to Ash and Brendan and headed into the city for our flights back to Seattle. We rang in the New Year from the train on the way home from the Seattle airport, a fun way to end some great holiday travel.

Trip Report: Climbing in El Salto, Mexico

After a few days in California, Becca and I headed south to the state of Nuevo Leon, in the northeast of Mexico, to do some climbing, linking up with our friend Eric. We started in El Salto, an amazing limestone climbing area surrounding the lovely (and tiny) town of La Ciénega de González, up in the Sierra Madre Oriental mountains. All the climbing is within walking distance of town, so instead of renting a car we caught a ride into town from the airport and then enjoyed exploring on foot.

The day we arrived in Monterrey it was foggy and raining, and it was dark by the time we made it out of the city and up into the mountains. The one road into La Ciénega is steep, narrow, and winding, and the thick fog, awful visibility, and many hairpin turns sure made for a memorable trip into town. We could only imagine the mountains out the window.

Waking up the next morning, though, we had beautiful weather, and just enough lingering fog to give the steep limestone ridges and gorges some definition. We spent our first few days exploring a couple of the different crags. One of the most spectacular spots was La Cueva del Tecolote (Tecolote Cave), a cave high up the wall of the canyon through which the Río Santa Catarina flows.

A panorama showing the stunning view while Becca works on Nosferatus 5.12c at La Cueva de Tecolote

Serafin, the beloved local dog who is so ugly she’s cute.

Becca carrying her pack through waist deep water on the way to the cave. While the hike is dry in a typical climbing season, this year has been fairly wet, so most of the intermittent watercourses are still flowing, meaning that wading was required to access several of the crags.

Looking up into Tecolote Cave from top of a super cool 5.10, El Culo De Merlin

Eric in “the ultimate butt shot” taken at one of the tufa rests on Huiratica 5.13a/b

Eric climbing in the smaller cave near Tecolote, on a route called Tu Felicidad 5.11d

Becca in a nice rest while unfortunately off route on super classic Nosferatus 5.12c

On Christmas Eve we took a rest day, and Becca and I walked up La Boca canyon in the late afternoon for a nice view of the surrounding mountains and back down the canyon.

Neat limestone textures above La Boca Canyon

Becca and I on our rest day walk

Our time in El Salto went by super quickly, and before we knew it there was only one more day of climbing left. After sending some of our other projects at other crags, including my first 5.12, we headed back to Tecolote for a final day.

Our last view down the canyon of Río Santa Catarina before hiking back to town on our last day.

Once again, we piled into a cab, this time with some new friends, and drove back towards Monterrey. Becca and I visited El Portrero Chico for a few more days of climbing before heading back to the US.

Gallery: Black Mountain, California and Joshua Tree National Park

The highlight of our winter holiday travel was a 10 day climbing trip to Mexico, and I’ll write another post about that shortly, but first: on the way down to Mexico, Becca and I stopped in Southern California for a few days for a little pre-Christmas family reunion. I was only there for three days, but managed to get out and take a few pictures along the way.

I flew in to LAX and rented a car to catch the rest of the family near Palm Springs. After battling my way through LA traffic, I had scarce time before it got dark, but I wanted to catch the sunset, so I bounced my rental up the Black Mountain road and hiked the short distance to the fire lookout tower to enjoy a surreal view down towards San Gorgonio Pass and into the Inland Empire, with twinkling lights and sprawling highways.

The San Gabriel Mountains and the lights of Riverside County from Black Mountain at dusk.

The two days later we went with the extended family to Joshua Tree National Park to do a mixture of strolling, a quick bouldering session, and then a little bit of astrophotography - everyone had a grand time.

Joshua trees in the afternoon light

Granite boulders and Joshua trees at sunset

Joshua trees silhouetted at dusk

The winter Milky Way over some Joshua Trees

Finally, on our last day in California, I snuck out under the cover of darkness and drove back to the park to catch the sunrise before returning to collect Becca and catch our flight to Mexico.

Sunrise on some Cholla Cactus

Cholla Cactus in the morning light

Cholla Cactus in the the morning light

Trip Report: Touring near Stevens Pass

Merry Christmas, folks! While I’m in warmer climes for the holidays, two weeks ago I got out with Adam and Matt and a few other friends for a full day of ski touring near Stevens Pass.

We had a single day forecasted of nice weather, and with a decent amount of fresh snow, I was excited to get out and do a big day of skiing. I also really wanted to photograph the sunrise, so I left home at an unpleasant hour, planning on meeting the boys a bit later. I drove up to Stevens in the dark, arriving at the upper parking lot a bit past 6:30 am. The parking lot was empty and silent, full of fog, and I headed out into the peaceful forest, skinning up the road towards Skyline Lake, which I crossed before heading up towards the ridge above.

Predawn fog glowing in the morning light at Skyline Lake.

As I climbed up the ridge, I popped above the predawn fog and into clear skies, with a beautiful early morning glow lighting the trees. I reached a high point on the ridge shortly before sunrise, and had stunning views down into the Nason Creek valley to the east, with wisps of clouds blowing through the valley below.

Nason Creek valley before sunrise, with Rock Mountain and Mount Howard in the distance.

Soon the sun began to illuminate the distant peaks of the Dakobed range, with Clark and Luahna glowing orange, accentuated by a bit of fog in the air. On the west side of the Cascade crest, the valleys were full of clouds, with only the summits poking out like islands. Sloan Peak’s distinctive profile looked dramatic, and the Monte Cristo area summits a little further west filled out the panorama.

Clark and Luahna in the morning sun, made hazy by a lingering patch of fog.

Mount Howard and Rock Mountain above Nason Creek.

The Monte Cristo Peaks and Sloan Peak poking out above clouds to the west.

Backlit trees and fog above Skyline Lake.

It was a beautiful morning, but I had to ski down to meet up with Adam and Matt. I ripped skins and zipped down the road, then made a quick visit to the parking lot porta-potty before heading a short ways down Route 2 to link up with the boys. We had been offered a sled tow a few miles in by some friends of ours, and after getting organized, soon we were a few miles up a snow covered Forest Service road. We started skinning along the forested creek, and soon were battling through the brushy bottom of a huge slidepath.

Adam following Matt through the woods.

A bit higher up, we made our way onto more open slopes and into the sun, which felt a bit more powerful than we were expected. Plenty of kick turns later, we reached the summit above the slide path, and enjoyed more great views of Glacier Peak and other summits before getting ready to ski down.

Our friends on the sunny skintrack, with a few lingering wisps of clouds.

Mount Phelps, Grotto, Baring, and Index from our summit.

Adam dropped in first, and looked great making turns in the sun until just out of sight. Unfortunately for him, he was still in sight when he leaned too far forward and fell over the handlebars, victim of another classic case of forgetting to put his boots in ski mode. The rest of us skied after him, and we had time for several more laps on less solar aspects before the sun started getting low in the sky. A few minutes before sunset, we dropped in for our final lap, and had great skiing in golden light all the way back down to the valley bottom.

Adam skiing sunny slopes on our first lap.

…and getting a little air on some shadier slopes.

Skiing down the south face at sunset. Mount Fernow in the background.

We weaved through the brush at the valley bottom as the light faded, and met up with our buddies for a quick tow back to our cars. A really great early season day.

Trip Report: Temperature Inversions in the Alpental Valley

The weekend after Thanksgiving, Adam, Helene, Becca, and I headed up to Alpental to get outside after a busy week of Thanksgiving commitments. Were in the midst of an unseasonably long and stable temperature inversion in Western Washington, with a high pressure system driving away storm systems and giving us a week of clear skies and fog in the valleys and lowlands. When we left the car, it was a brisk 24 degrees at the valley bottom and quite foggy, while the top of the ski area, 2,000 vertical feet higher, was a balmy 46 degrees in the sun.

With Becca and Helene still getting their snow legs under them, we set out for a relaxed day, walking up the well-compacted trail towards Snow Lake in the fog.

Adam and Becca climbing up some lovingly-carved steps as we approach the Snow Lake divide.

The Snow Lake divide was pretty socked in, with clouds pouring over the ridge and flowing downslope to Snow Lake before dissipating in the sun. The fog and strong winds made for some very cool ice patterns on the trees, and the mix of fog and sun gave us some beautiful light.

Fog and sunlight on the shore of the partially-frozen Snow Lake.

Frosty trees above Snow Lake. Note the ice on the distant part of the lake (below Mount Roosevelt), which is more sheltered from the wind, while the closer part of the lake has been kept ice-free by katabatic winds flowing down from the Divide.

Sunshine on Chair Peak while clouds flow down from the Snow Lake divide.

After romping partway around Snow Lake, we headed back up to the Divide and started breaking trail west towards Chair Peak. The clouds and wind were highly localized, with it being quite calm in some spots, and super windy in others just a few dozen yards away. We picked our way through the fog near the crest of the ridge, enjoying the eerie ambiance.

Becca, Adam, and Helene on the way back up towards the Snow Lake divide.

Helene and Becca working their way through wispy bands of fog towards Chair Peak.

As we approached the eastern slopes of Chair Peak, we climbed just a tiny bit higher, and were rewarded with a crazy view - the Alpental Valley full to the brim with clouds, sloshing gently like a bathtub, their tops just a hundred vertical feet below us. Climbing a little bit higher, we could look back towards the Divide and see the clouds pouring down towards Snow Lake.

Helene, Becca, and Adam on the skintrack above the Alpental Valley, full of clouds. Denny Mountain in the background.

Mount Snoqualmie in the last of the evening light, with the clouds filling the Alpental Valley pouring over the Snow Lake divide and flowing downslope towards Snow Lake, out of sight to the left.

We hung out as the sun set, enjoying the magical view, then started skiing down as darkness fell. The snow was somewhat crusty, which made for tricky skiing conditions, but everyone did great, and it was super cool to descend into the fog, which reflected our headlamps back into our faces. Bryant and Chair peaks both looked extra magical in the glow of the fading light, and pretty quickly we were back on the well-trodden trail to Source Lake.

Adam and Helene descending, with Mount Snoqualmie in the background at sunset.

Adam skiing towards Source Lake as Mount Snoqualmie catches the last of the evening light.

Adam and Becca skiing by headlamp into the fog.

We all had an entertaining time chasing one another down the trail and back to the car.