Gallery: Fall Foliage in the Methow

Galen Weld November 9, 2026

After my long weekend trip with Alex, Jenny, and Matt, I spent another day hanging around the Methow by myself. I worked during the middle of the day, but was able to enjoy some short hikes during the sunrise and sunset hours to make the most of the larch color. Here are some pictures from Slate Pass and Blue Lake Peak, where I watched a truly stunning sunset on the drive back west.

Silver Star (and the Silver Star Glacier) from above Harts Pass

A lone larch at Slate Pass. Slate Peak (and collapsed lookout site) at right

Devils Peak, with the shoulder of Robinson poking out

Looking north into the Middle Fork of the Pasayten River

Silverstar, Big Kangaroo and the rest of Kangaroo ridge (Half Moon and Wallaby) below the Gardners, Abernathy at right

Goode, Storm King, Buckner, Forbidden, with Cosho in front

Glacier Peak above Pt. 7864, a subsummit east of McGregor

Incredible sunset below Cornice Peak. Liberty Bell and SEWS at right.

Black, Whistler, Cutthroat, Golden Horn at right

Trip Report: Lake Chelan Summit/Sawtooth Traverse

Galen Weld November 3, 2026

The first weekend in October, Matt mentioned to me that he had been scheming about an idea for a weekend trip with his friends Jenny and Alex. He sent me a .gpx file that I was scared to look at… “Anyone can draw a line on a map!”

The proposal was to start on Highway 20 and climb Silver Star via Burgundy Col, then work our way south along the crest of the mountains east of Lake Chelan for 3 days, hopefully tagging 14 Bulgers before heading out Foggy Dew Creek. Since we had to cross the Twisp River, we’d leave extra food to resupply from in Jenny’s van, which would also let us drop off our crampons, which we’d want for the Silver Star Glacier, but wouldn’t need elsewhere. Alex estimated our odds of success at 30%. I was worried I’d slow down the group of very fit folks, but I was excited to have a big weekend out in the mountains in the midst of peak larch season. In the end, we didn’t come close to pulling off the whole trip: we were a bit slower than ideal on the first day, and after thrashing up atrocious brush along Reynolds Creek, we skipped the middle section of the trip (and skipped Gardner, Reynolds, Oval, Hoodoo, and Raven Ridge). We still had three wonderful days out, tagging 9 Bulgers, and enjoyed endless spectacular views along the way.

After driving out and logisticating the night before, we set off from Highway 20 just as it was starting to get light on Saturday morning. We made quick work of the climbers’ trail up to Burgundy Col, then charged down some steep mud on the far side. The Silver Star Glacier was pretty darn bare, but a combination of cramponing up the ice and groveling along the rocky margins got us to the top without too much trouble. We dropped packs at the col at the top of the glacier, and then scuttled up to the top of our first summit of the trip.

From the col below the summit, we descended due south, running down the first of many steep sandy slopes, into the basin at 7,200 feet. From there, we made a rising traverse across a few ribs to wrap around the south side of Big Snagtooth before dropping our packs once again to tag our second summit, where ran into two gentlemen who kindly let us use their rope as a handline to descend. From Big Snagtooth, we ran southwest down a beautiful sand slope into the West Fork Cedar Creek drainage, then made our way cross country through mostly open terrain to hit the Cedar Creek trail.

Matt and Jenny working their way up the Silver Star Glacier

Running down sandy slopes from Big Snagtooth into the West Fork Cedar Creek drainage. Half Moon (middle) and Big Kangaroo (upper right) in the distance. Gilbert Peak at left.

After popping out onto the Cedar Creek trail, we ran ~3 miles down the valley, then crossed Cedar Creek and bushwhacked through post-burn forest up Shelokum Creek enroute to North Gardner. I had last climbed this route in 2019, before the Cedar Creek fire had burned the whole valley. It was definitely a bit depressing seeing how much of the terrain we passed through in the first half of our trip had burned in the past decade. Once out of the burn, we worked our way up to the North Ridge of North Garder, heading to the west of the ridge crest around 7,200 feet to avoid some steeper terrain. It was late afternoon by then, and the light was starting to get beautiful as we continued up fun easy terrain, high above the mountains around us. We wasted no time on the summit of North Gardner, running south along the beautiful high ridge towards the other Gardner, but, with only 30 mins of daylight remaining, we opted to skip the next summit and descend directly into Wolf Creek. We ran down into the valley in the gorgeous evening light, hopping over logs as it started to get properly dark. We looked for a climbers’ trail up to Abernathy Lake, but didn’t pick one up as we headed up the valley by headlamp. We decided to camp at Abernathy Lake and save Abernathy Peak for the daylight.

A cool view of the shadow of North Gardner as seen from the summit, with Gardner at right.

Heading down into Wolf Creek in golden evening light. Abernathy at right, above Matt’s head.

Jenny and Alex trotting down the gravely slopes of Gardner on our way down into Wolf Creek.

Sunday morning we were off again just as it was starting to get light, heading up the valley above Abernathy Lake as the sun rose. I dawdled behind the rest of the group, unable resist the urge to photograph the larches in the clear morning light. Eventually, we reached the base of the North Ridge of Abernathy, and, after stopping briefly to look at some old mining relics, made a flat traverse around the west side of the mountain on steep slopes before punching due east up to the summit. Scatter Lake looked incredible surrounded by larches, and we sprinted down more sandy slopes to the lakeshore, where Matt took a quick dip before we jogged down the Scatter Lake trail to Jenny’s van, another trail that had burned since I had last hiked it.

Jenny approaching the head of the valley west of Abernathy Lake.

Running down from the summit of Abernathy, with Scatter Lake below, and the Twisp River valley in the distance.

A refreshing dip in Scatter Lake to cool off before the dusty run down to the Twisp River.

At the trailhead, we ate, packed up more food, and then continued onwards. Jenny and I were feeling lazy, and opted to drive the three miles to the Reynolds Creek trailhead, while Matt and Alex kept their honor intact by running the road. (A wrong turn turned their three mile run into five - not sure if this bolsters or diminishes their honor.)

Jenny took a quick nap while we waited for the boys to arrive, and I poked a short ways up the trail, another one that had burned since my last visit. What I found was not encouraging: the trail seemed to have received no maintenance since the 2018 Crescent Mountain fire, and was totally overgrown. Nonetheless, I kept my mouth firmly shut, not wanting to discourage anyone. Once Matt and Alex arrived, already hot and dusty, we set off up the trail, making heinously slow progress under the hot midday sun. It didn’t take long for us to realize that this was a fool’s errand, and after 30 or so minutes we pulled the plug and headed back to the trailhead.

As we rolled down the Twisp River road, there was plenty of indecision about what to do next. I suggested that we head up the West Fork of Buttermilk Creek to Fish Creek Pass, which would at least let us tag Courtney and Star, and then regain our originally intended route. After a blind vote with one abstention, Matt, Jenny, and I decided we’d go for this plan, while Alex chose to support us emotionally while doing his own thing. So at ~2pm, we set off up Buttermilk Creek, making good time through the pleasantly cool (and mostly un-burned) forest. We reached Fish Creek Pass under beautiful clear skies, and dropped our packs to go tag the summit of Courtney. I dilly-dallied on top while Jenny and Matt headed down to Star Lake to find a campsite amongst the larches. I joined them shortly before the beautiful sunset, and we had a pleasant night of sleep.

Jenny heading up Courtney, just above Fish Creek Pass. Star’s false summit above.

Matt and Jenny heading down Courtney towards Star Lake, tucked into the lach forest.

Once again, we got off as it started to get light, working our way around the shore of Star Lake as the sun began to light up the clouds above us. It was a beautiful sunrise as we headed up the climbers’ trail towards the summit of Star. After tagging the summit, we descended directly southeast down more loose slopes before traversing back over to the lower part of the South Ridge of Star, which we followed down into the forest to hit the summit trail. We followed the trail south, through pleasant forest, then crossed Prince Creek and continued up to Chipmunk Pass.

Jenny enjoying the sunrise from Star Lake

Morning light on Baldy Mountain, as Jenny heads along the climbers' trail towards the summit of Star. Finney Peak at left.

Jenny and Matt observing an old shelter in the Prince Creek drainage.

We ran the trail from Chipmunk Pass to just below Hoodoo Pass, then set off cross country to tag Bigelow. (We opted to skip Hoodoo and Raven Ridge for the sake of having a strictly Type 1 day :) From Bigelow, we made a descending traverse back towards Boiling Lake, now in familiar terrain. We headed up the trail to the west of Cheops, then made a rising traverse to the summit of Martin, then headed over to Switchback, our final summit of the trip. I had last done the Martin-Switchback traverse in early season, when the entire ridge was snow covered and I was in a foggy whiteout, so it was fun to get to do this part in beautiful weather and with great views. It’s a really lovely easy ridge.

Heading across meadows towards the nondescript summit of Bigelow.

Jenny heading up the trail above Boiling Lake.

Running along the the ridge towards Switchback Peak.

From the summit of Switchback, we hopped down to the trail just a few hundred feet below, and started running down into Merchants Basin. The last 7 miles of trail out to the trailhead along Foggy Dew Creek were far more pleasant than I expected, gently downhill with nice views, and before I knew it we were at Matt’s truck, with enough daylight left for me to snap some sunset photos!

Matt and Jenny running through Merchants Basin

Even though we didn’t come close to tackling the whole ridge, I still feel lucky to have made some new friends and gotten to spend time outside in a beautiful place!

Trip(s) Report: Sunrise Biking, Minotaur Lake, PCT Trail Run, and Tonga Ridge

Galen Weld October 29, 2026

Every once in a while, you have one of those weekends where you string together a whole bunch of activities together. The last weekend in September was one of those weekends: I wanted to get some skiing in, I wanted to camp, and I wanted to do something with Oliver, who was only free on Sunday. What better way to satisfy those constraints than with four different trips in two days? I started by biking up the (closed to cars) road to Sunrise to catch the, well, sunrise on Rainier, then I headed over to Chinook Pass to snap a few photos before heading up to Stevens Pass to link up with Travis to camp at Minotaur Lake. Sunday morning I met up with Oliver at the Surprise Creek trailhead, just west of Stevens, dropped a car there, then drove up to the Pass proper for a nice trail run along ~17 miles of the PCT south of Stevens. Finally, with the last few hours of daylight, I booked it up to Tonga Ridge to catch the sunset from Mount Sawyer.

Adam kindly offered to let me borrow his souped up e-bike, which promised to make the predawn ride up to Sunrise a bit more pleasant. I snagged it from his place, then drove down to the White River entrance to Mount Rainier late Friday night, and slept in my car. I woke up to a chilly and clear morning with not another soul to be seen. I hopped on Adam’s bike and blasted up the road at 20+ mph the whole way - it felt like cheating compared to the last time I rode up the road on my own bike! The alpenglow was beautiful from Sunrise Point, with a few inches of fresh snow, and I hurried along the last few miles of the road and ran up the trail towards Frozen Lake. I didn’t have much of a plan for where to be for first light, and I don’t think I found any particularly interesting compositions, but it was still a lovely morning.

First light on Rainier and Little Tahoma from Sunrise Park.

Morning light and fresh snow on the Cowlitz Chimneys and Banshee Peak.

I continued along the trail past Frozen Lake and up to Burroughs Mountain, where I found myself wallowing through foot+ deep drifts in spots. I saw tracks in the snow from the resident Sunrise fox, but didn’t see the fox himself - too bad. On the alpine plain on Burroughs, I had fun photographing patterns in the windblown snow, then made a loop back to Sunrise by walking down to Shadow Lake. I retrieved my bike, blasted down the road, and headed up to Chinook Pass, which, unlike the crystal clear weather at Sunrise, was shrouded in thick fog, which emphasized the lovely fall colors. I found a patch of marginally snow covered heather that let me get a few hundred feet of skiing in, then called it quits and drove up to Stevens Pass, stopping for donuts in Renton.

Little Tahoma and Rainier from First Burroughs.

I linked up with Travis at Stevens, and we headed up the Smithbrook Road in his sweet old Subaru GL. It was a short hike up to Minotaur Lake, and we enjoyed the view down to Theseus Lake before heading up Labyrinth for sunset, with plenty of company. Glacier Peak looked nice with a fresh coat of snow, and we had a cool angle on the Monte Cristo peaks. We found a pleasant campsite a few hundred feet below the summit, and had a nice perch to watch the sunrise from over Minotaur Lake before hiking back down to the car.

The moon rose through a gap in the clouds that looked almost like a coin slot

Sunrise above Minotaur Lake and Minotaur Mountain

Fog covering Lake Wenatchee in the distance

I hurried back along Route 2 to Scenic, late to my meet-up time with Oliver. We dropped a car at the Surprise Creek trailhead, then headed back up to Stevens to start our PCT jaunt. It was very pleasant running on a great trail, not too busy, sunny, and pleasantly cool temps. Even if much of the trail is tucked into the forest, it was lovely to visit a bunch of lakes, and very cool to pop over the pass above Lake Susan Jane and be in the headwaters of the Icicle. The section of the trail above Trap Lake offered the nicest views, and before long we were zipping down the switchbacks to Surprise Lake. The Surprise Lake trail was lovely running in the old growth, and then we were back at the trailhead!

Slippery Slab Tower above Trap Lake, with great colors!

Oliver and I grabbed some food in Skykomish, then, with the few remaining hours of daylight, I wanted to find a spot to watch the sunset. Tonga Ridge seemed like it would do the trick, so I hauled ass up FSR 6830, reaching the trailhead just in time to run over to Mount Sawyer, reaching the meadows below the summit minutes before they lost the light. Mount Daniel looked great with fresh snow as well, and it was a nice mellow hike to cap off a fun weekend!

Mount Daniel and the last of the evening light on Mount Sawyer

Lynch, Terrace, Dip Top, and Mount Daniel

Trip Report: Lost Creek Ridge to Painted Mountain Traverse

Galen Weld October 22, 2026

After returning from Wyoming, Matt and I were looking for a short overnight trip to combine with some additional weekend activities. We had been helping Adam with work on his cabin outside of Rockport, so the Glacier Peak Wilderness seemed like it would offer easy access to some fun loop options. We ended up setting our eyes on Lost Creek Ridge, dropping my car at the North Fork Sauk trailhead, and we completed the loop by traveling off trail from Lake Byrne over Black Mountain, Magenta Peak, and Painted Mountain before plummeting back down to the trailhead. This ended up being a great half+half day trip, above treeline almost the whole time!

We set off from the Lost Creek trailhead at 3pm, sweating as we cruised up the many switchbacks on a good trail before popping out above treeline. The meadows were beautiful in fall colors and the late afternoon light, and it was remarkable how much more autumnal everything felt than 2 weeks earlier, before I left for Wyoming. We hurried to make it to Lake Byrne before dark, enjoying great varied views along the way.

Black Mountain and Painted Mountain across Lost Creek to the south.

Sloan Peak in the distance from the forest above Camp Lake

Matt is a blur running towards Glacier Peak in the last of the evening sun

We reached Lake Byrne just as the sun was setting, lighting up Glacier Peak

We found a pleasant campsite near the shore of Lake Byrne, and enjoyed great views of the alpenglow on Glacier

After a pleasant night at Lake Byrne, we got up and moving before sunrise. We traveled off trail to the south, climbing up to Pt. 6338 as the sun popped above the horizon, then worked our way down steep heather and cliff bands into the ~5,500 foot meadow just NW of Pt. 6534. We crossed the rib WNW of the aforementioned point, and side-hilled without much trouble on rocky slabs until due west of the summit of Black Mountain, then climbed some remarkably chossy steep dirt to hit the south ridge of Black and then up easy scrambling to the summit at 10, about 3 hours from Lake Byrne.

Happiness is a toasted Uncrustable for breakfast

We were on the ridge above Lake Byrne when the sun popped out from behind Glacier Peak

Descending steep heather meadows below Pt. 6338, with Black Mountain in the middle of the frame

Matt scrambling up to the summit of Black Mountain, with Sloan in the distance and Painted Mountain at right

We retraced our steps back down the steep dirt bullshit west of Black, then traveled easily on more slabs to the saddle between Pt. 6824 and Pt. 6716. Climbing the ridge to Pt. 6716 was the crux of the traverse from Black to Painted, but it was mostly steep heather with a few moves of class 3/4. It was nice to be going in this direction so we could see the steep terrain instead of descending it blind.

Matt descending the steep dirt on Black Mountain

Eyeing the route over to Magenta Peak. The saddle between 6824 and 6716 is the low point below Sloan Peak

Matt scrambling the exposed ridge just below Pt. 6716

Once past Pt. 6716, it was easy walking to the summit of Magenta Peak (Pt. 6735), and then pleasant heather romping down to the Painted/Magenta saddle. Matt absolutely dusted me on the last 1,000 foot climb up to the summit of Painted Mountain, where we saw our first other party since leaving Lake Byrne. It took us a bit over 2.5 hours from Black to Painted. From the summit of Painted we followed the well-flagged climbers’ trail down to the old lookout site, absolutely plummeting as we ran down the steep hillside, dropping almost 4,500 vertical feet in 2 miles. It took about an hour to reach the car from Painted Mountain, leaving just enough remaining daylight to head up to Blanchard for a quick paragliding lap to cap off the weekend!

Matt commencing the plummet into the Sauk River valley, with the Monte Cristo group at left and Sloan at right.

Gallery: Tetons Road Trip

Galen Weld October 19, 2026

Last month Becca and I drove out to the Tetons to visit her parents. While climbing the Exum was the highlight of the trip, we still made lots of other stops that don’t quite warrant their own post, but I still wanted to share some photos. After leaving the Tetons, we made a quick stop in Ten Sleep to do some climbing, then Becca flew home and I drove back to Seattle by way of the Beartooth Highway, a beautiful scenic road that traverses the namesake Beartooth mountains on the border between Wyoming and Montana, just east of Yellowstone. I’d always wanted to visit this region, and would love to come back with more time to do some more exploring!

Here are some photos - let me know which are your favorite!

Becca and I drove through this thunderstorm outside of Anaconda, Montana, right at sunset. We drove through a few minutes of heavy rain, then once we were out the far side, we looked back to see this towering cumulonimbus cloud.

We went for a very nice day hike by Teton Pass. Taylor Mountain in the distance.

I snuck out for sunrise one morning, and enjoyed this view of early morning alpenglow on Teewinot and the Grand from the String Lake outlet.

Here’s Mount Moran before sunrise, with String Lake in the foreground.

I hurried up the hill to Laurel Lake just in time to catch the first light on Teewinot. Jenny Lake below.

I was mesmerized by these swirling fog patterns on the surface of String Lake, as seen from above.

Our last night in Jackson we watched a stunning sunset.

Before driving to Ten Sleep I once again snuck out to catch the sunrise, this time from a hill above Spread Creek.

The meadows along the creek looked great in their fall colors.

And of course, the morning light on the Tetons in all their glory was quite special.

It was interesting to watch the landscape change as we headed east. We took a quick break outside of Dubois, where I enjoyed the contrast of these green cottonwoods against the red sandstone along the bank of the Wind River.

After dropping Becca off at the airport I hurried up to Beartooth Pass, where I spent a frigid night camping near Twin Lakes. It snowed a little bit overnight, but in the morning I was treated to some dramatic light before dawn. Here we’re looking across the state line into Montana, at Spirit Mountain and Mount Rearguard, with Silver Run Peak between them in the clouds.

Looking down at Twin Lakes from the highway just after sunrise, with the Beartooths in the sun to the northwest.

The fresh dusting of snow on the high plateau made for nice contrast in the morning light.

I stopped briefly by Beartooth Falls as I headed down towards the Clarks Fork of the Yellowstone River (not to be confused with the Clark Fork of the Columbia, on the other side of the Continental Divide, which I drove along later that day!)

After driving through Yellowstone, I stopped by Mammoth Hot Springs to enjoy the views of the Travertine formations

After saying hi to friends in Missoula, I drove up to Lolo Pass, along the way snapping some pictures of the vegetation growing back after the 2017 Lolo Peak fire.

I stopped at Snowshoe Falls along the West Fork of Lolo Creek… very hidden, but gorgeous!

Finally, I drove back across Washington along US Route 2, stopping to peek into this abandoned house outside of Hartline.

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!”

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