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Way overdue here, but last January Helene and I jetted out for a quick sunset at Deception Pass, and had a lovely time strolling around the shore. It’s so close to Seattle, but really lovely there. Here are a few pics!
An Eagle watching the tide flow through the Pass, with Deception Island in the distance.
The incoming tide flowing up a little ravine near Lighthouse Point.
Looking east towards the bridges at dusk.
Dusk at Bowman Bay.
Classic shot of the Bowman Bay pier.
I’m a bit late writing this blog post, but at the very start of February, Adam and Matt and I had an amazing but brief trip up to Rogers Pass in the interior of British Columbia for 3.5 days of great backcountry skiing. I’ve skied at Rogers on many trips, but never made it up last season, so I was excited to get out this year with my favorite touring partners.
We had good timing with our trip, arriving just after the end of the January drought. However, the new snowfall and cold temperatures made for a less stable snowpack, and the associated higher avalanche risk limited our options somewhat. As a result, it seemed like many folks opted to ski elsewhere, so we had a wonderful trip that felt different from most of my past times at Rogers, with a lot of trailbreaking through deep snow and normally popular and crowded areas all to ourselves. Our first two days were pretty stormy, but the sun came out on day three, and we were able to push out above treeline for what was truly the highlight of the trip: skiing the ultra-classic Youngs Traverse (one of the 50 Classic Ski Descents of North America) in complete solitude, with absolutely frigid temps (-3°F!), blower powder, and sunshine. Definitely one of the most memorable days of touring I’ve ever done.
Day 0: After a late start on the drive north from Seattle, avalanche control on Eagle Pass kept us waiting, and we didn’t get into Revelstoke until 2:30am.
Days 1 & 2: 20-30 cm of snow overnight kept the restricted areas closed and avalanche danger limited our options, so we headed up Connaught Creek to ski Ursus Trees. We had a grand time skiing pillows and trees.
Adam skinning up Hospital Bowl in stormy weather, looking down Connaught Creek.
Matt skiing in the trees.
Adam dropping some pillows. You win some…
…and lose others. We call him “backslap billy” for a reason!
Adam sure has a cute smile :)
Day 3: Youngs Traverse into Seven Steps to Paradise. The started off cold and overcast, causing us to second guess our choice of objective. We headed up from Illecillewaet parking, following a decent amount of traffic along Asulkan Brook, but when we turned off towards the Great Glacier trail, we were a bit surprised that no one had skied out that way recently. We were a little worried about clouds on the glacier, but as we slowly broke trail through a foot of powder up towards the edge of the glacier, the clouds cleared up and it turned into a beautiful bluebird day. It was freezing in the shade with strong with downslope winds. My thermometer read -3°F, and Adam thrilled to show off his new “nose hat”. We made slow but steady progress up onto the toe of the glacier, with the views of Mount Sir Donald and neighboring peaks getting better and better as we got higher.
Adam breaking trail through deep snow up towards the toe of the Illecillewaet Glacier.
Matt and Adam breaking trail in the freezing shade below Glacier Crest.
Skiing towards Glacier Crest just below the Illecillewaet Glacier.
As we traversed along the ridge towards the Forever Young couloir, Youngs Peak with its heavily corniced North Ridge came into view, as did the Dawson Range to the south. We could see our lonely skintrack receding for miles into the distance, and we reflected on the amazing spot we had all to ourselves. Lingering clouds over the summit of Youngs kept the light dramatic, but we carefully switchbacked past the massive cornices to reach the summit.
Matt and Adam breaking trail towards Youngs Peak. What an amazing sense of solitude out there!
Dramatic light on the way to Youngs Peak.
Matt and Adam approaching Youngs Peak, with our skintrack receding into the distance miles behind us. Stunning views of Eagle Peak, Uto Peak, Mount Sir Donald, and Terminal Peak.
Matt and Adam on the summit of Youngs Peak, with Mounts Fox and Dawson towering across the Geikie Glacier, out of sight.
We wasted no time transitioning, and Adam dropped onto Northwest Face of Youngs first as Matt and I waited, a bit anxious about the snow stability as Adam briefly dipped out of sight. He radioed back up to us, letting us know he was in a safe spot, and Matt skied next, followed by me. The light on Mount Jupiter and the headwaters of the Incomappleux River was incredible, and the turns were utterly blower. We skied the first pitch down to lower angle slopes, and we could see no tracks at all for 1,000+ meters below us. The skiing was fantastic and deep as we turned right onto Seven Steps, and I had fun taking pictures of skiing in the beautiful evening light. It was truly magical.
Adam dropping onto the Northwest Face of Youngs Peak as clouds swirl above Asulkan Pass.
Matt skiing Seven Steps, with the Asulksan Valley far below us, and stunning views of the Mount Rogers Massif, Avalanche Peak, and Eagle Peak.
The exit out Asulkan Brook was straightforward but slower than I remembered. As we descended deeper into the valley we watched the last light fade on the summits above us, and, not much later, alpenglow lit them up. We skated out the old railroad grade under a clear and cold sky and reached the car just as the first stars were coming out, feeling properly tired from a long day of breaking trail the whole way.
Adam and Matt in the Asulkan Valley on the way out, with last light on the Mount Rogers massif in the distance.
Day 4: With another beautiful day in the forecast, I was a bit disappointed that we couldn’t get back to Seattle too late. Nonetheless, we made the most of it, getting an early start. We left the Discovery Centre as soon as the restricted zones were posted open for the day, and were the first party up Connaught. We broke trail up Grizzly shoulder through deep snow in 0° temps, before being caught shortly below the top by a group of Norwegians. Working as a team we made quick work of the rest of the trailbreaking. The Norwegians dropped in just below the top of the shoulder, and just the three of us finished setting a skin track up the sneaky ramp to access Puff Daddy. It was a beautiful descent looking out towards Mount MacDonald, and at the bottom we traversed right to catch Connaight Creek near the car.
Matt on the Grizzly Shoulder skintrack with Cheops in the distance.
Adam and Matt breaking trail up to the top of Grizzly Shoulder.
Adam and Matt dropping into Puff Daddy, with Mount MacDonald’s North Face looking above the highway.
Adam and Matt skiing with amazing views of MacDonald and Eagle Peak.
We crossed the creek and regained our up track for a second lap. The clock was ticking towards our agreed upon time to start descending, so we booked it up our skintrack (lots more traffic on it by the time we took our second lap!) to see how high we could get before 12:30 pm. We nearly topped out the shoulder before taking final lap down through glades back to the car, but I was sad to leave such a beautiful place with hours of daylight left. We settled in for a long, cold drive back home through the Arctic outflow in the Fraser River valley.
Adam ripping a beautiful turn down Grizzly Shoulder, with Cheops looming across the Connaught Creek valley.
A few weeks ago, Adam and I headed out to ski Gunn Peak, the tallest mountain in an area of the Cascades I’d never explored. With a low elevation start and some steep climbers’ trail through the forest before hitting skiable terrain, this was the perfect mission for us to bring out our ski blades. We had some crappy skiing conditions, beautiful views, and good brother time on a pretty mellow overnight.
Sloan Peak, the Monte Cristo summits, Spire Mountain, Glacier Peak, and the Dakobed range at sunset.
After a relaxed morning and a nice lunch at the Sultan Bakery, we drove easily all the way to the trailhead, which was chilly with the temperature inversion. We left the car just before 14:00 with skis on our packs and only three hours to go before sunset. There was only one other car parked along the road, and we’d hadn’t even made it to Barclay Creek before we ran into it’s owner, who looked at the skis on our packs, laughed to himself, and said "boy, you two have a long way to get before you reach snow." An auspicious start.
Adam crossing Barclay Creek.
We crossed Barclay Creek with careful balance and minimal trouble, and headed up the steep but easy to follow climbers trail on the far side. We started encountering patchy snow a few hundred feet below the "tricky" gully crossing which itself wasn't bad. On the far side of the gully, there was more consistent snow, and we booted up through some icy sections until we popped out of the trees and got our first nice views of Wing Peak. Although we could have switched to skiing earlier, booting seemed efficient, so we continued up to about 4,700 ft before leaving our hiking boots where the previous tracks we had been following ended. We continued following the summer route, skinning up the ridge saddle at 5,400 ft between Wing and Tailgunner where we found a nice spot to camp.
Skinning towards our camp with Baring and Barclay Lake behind.
With half an hour until sunset, we left out overnight gear and headed out to watch the sunset from Wing Peak. We traversed the ridge and ascended very crusty steep snow with the aid of ski crampons to reach the top of Wing, where we were rewarded with beautiful views in all directions, including Glacier Peak to the north, along with a great angle of Baring’s incredible Northeast Face. Before it got truly dark, we skied some impressively manky crust off the summit back to our campsite, and had a good time digging a nice tent platform and making dinner. My thermometer showed 16°, but it was very calm, so we hung out outside watching the stars before the increasing wind blew us into our sleeping bags.
Summit Chief, Chimney Rock, Lemah, and Chickamin to the left of Baring.
Adam skiing awful snow off the summit of Wing Peak at dusk.
The starry night sky over Wing, Baring, and more mountains to the south.
After a pleasant night, I got up for sunrise and snapped some pictures before breakfast. We headed off towards Gunn just before 9:00, skinning a short ways west before skiing a fun gully and traversing into the basin south of Gunn. 15 minutes of skiing up firm snow brought us to the “hidden ramp” that provides access to the upper slopes of Gunn. This was about 100 vertical feet of firm 50° snow, which we made quick work of in our boot crampons. By 10:00 we were booting across the upper snowfield in the sun towards the V notch between Gunn’s true and east summits. It was easy to reach the notch, but the steep snow on the north side dropped an airy 3,000+ feet down into Trout Creek and seemed like a bad idea to solo. We regrouped, and by backtracking 100 feet we found a 15-20 foot class 3 rock scramble (doable in ski boots) that let us gain access to the East Ridge. 150 more vertical feet of easy but airy snow climbing brought us to the summit at 10:45. Great views in all directions, including down to the Index Town walls from far above.
Chimney Rock and Baring at sunrise.
Adam skinning towards the “hidden ramp” below Gunn’s impressive West Face.
Adam climbing steep snow to access the East Ridge of Gunn, with Wing and Baring in the distance.
The class 3/4 scramble we used to access the East Ridge.
Easy snow on the East Ridge just below the summit of Gunn.
After enjoying the view, we retraced our steps without trouble and retrieved our skis from the V notch. There was nice corn on the upper slopes, then we skied the hidden ramp very carefully as it was icy and shitty, side stepping much of it. The fan below was fun skiing, and quickly we were putting skins on to head back up to camp.
Skiing the upper slopes of Gunn, with Tailgunner and Index in the distance.
Adam skiing the steep “hidden ramp” on Gunn
Skiing Gunn’s lower slopes, with Merchant and Wing in the background.
We got back to camp at noon and packed up to descend to the car. We skinned a short distance back towards Tailgunner before ripping skins and following our tracks back down into the forest. We retrieved our boots and enjoyed entertaining vegetated skiing all the way down to an icy section at 4100 feet, just above the gully. We put our skis on our packs here and used boot crampons to descend the ice, then changed into hiking boots to cross the gully. After a bit of unpleasant icy forest descending, we cruised down to Barclay Creek and were back at the car just past 14:30.
Adam skiing below camp, with Baring across the valley.
Descending an icy section of the forest on our way back to the car.
My paper crunch for the ICWSM deadline last month left me jonesing for a fun overnight ski trip where I could camp in a beautiful spot. Our January high pressure system gave me just the opportunity to do so, so I blew off work for a mellow midweek solo trip to climb Tomyhoi, a peak I’ve looked at many times but had never climbed before.
I had a relaxed start packing up in the morning, and left Seattle around 9:30, driving easily up the Chain Lakes road to the old Keep Kool trail at 3,000 feet. The road and forest was bone dry until just a few hundred feet down the road from the trailhead. I threw my skis on my pack and left the car at 12:45 in hiking boots, following the old trail without any trouble for about a thousand vertical feet before switching to skinning, getting my first glimpses of Shuksan with some wisps of clouds through the trees.
First views of Mount Shuksan through the forest.
I followed a few snowshoe and ski tracks along the buried trail to the flat basin below Yellow Aster Butte at ~5,300 feet where I stopped for lunch. It was a beautiful day with clouds blowing through some of the summits, but I was disappointed to see that the basin had a whole bunch of snowmobile tracks illegally inside the wilderness area. Lame.
Sled tracks through the basin below Yellow Aster Butte. Snowmobiles are not permitted in the Mount Baker Wilderness (nor any other wilderness).
I continued at a slow pace taking pictures up the ridge towards Tomyhoi as the clouds thickened and blew around me into a whiteout. With about 30 mins before sunset, I dropped my pack just below the 6,500 bump on Tomyhoi’s south ridge. As the fog swirled I got intermittent fleeting dreamlike views of Larrabee and Winchester and the Border Peaks, then just after sunset the fog quickly cleared and I had stunning views of Mount Baker and Shuksan in poking up over clouds in the valley. It was an lovely evening that chilled off quickly as I dug out a tent platform in the dark - my thermometer read 14 degrees Fahrenheit.
Shuksan above Yellow Aster Butte
The Border Peaks and Larrabee emerging from the fog
Yellow Aster Butte’s steep north side, with Goat rising out of the clouds behind.
Dusk over Mount Baker
Stars over American Border Peak, Larrabee, and Winchester
I got up half an hour before sunrise and enjoyed photographing the crystal clear morning, with lovely light on Baker and Damfino Peak, which looks pretty rugged from this angle.
Morning light on Larrabee
Sunrise behind the Pickets and Shuksan.
An appropriately dorky self portrait at camp, with Baker in the background.
I made breakfast then left camp with a light pack just before 9:00 and headed up towards Tomyhoi. I skinned for only a few minutes before ripping skins to ski for a few good steep turns down into the notch between the bump and the rest of the mountain. From there, it was easy skinning onto the broad plateau east of the summit. Rather than climbing over the false summit, as the standard summit route goes, I decided to try a more direct route, crossing the rib coming to the east of the false summit before skinning about 200 vertical feet of steep wind affected snow until close to the saddle between the summits, then rather than continuing to the saddle, I booted up a steep gully that deposited me onto the ridge just south of the true summit about 100 feet above the saddle. Very cool views all the way down into the Fraser valley and Abbotsford. I skinned about 200 vertical feet of quite steep wind affected snow until close to the saddle between the summits, then rather than continuing to the saddle I booted up a steep gully that deposited me onto the North ridge of the summit about 100 feet above the saddle. From the top of the gully, I left my skis, and 5 minutes of easy but exposed scrambling brought me to the true summit at 10:30. Stunning views in all directions, including a cool view of Damfino Peak, Mount Rexford, and even the skyscrapers of Vancouver, almost 70 miles to the west.
My skintrack up from the Tomyhoi Glacier towards the saddle between the false and true summits, with American Border Peak in the background.
The final scramble up to the summit of Tomyhoi, taken on the descent.
On the descent, I retraced my steps, and had fun skiing the gully back to the Tomyhoi Glacier, where with some traversing and a little shuffling I was able to ski all the way down to the notch near camp. I skinned out of the notch, then skied back to camp about 30 mins after leaving the summit. After packing up camp and eating lunch, I skied back to the basin below YAB and skinned up to the top of Keep Kool Butte for a more direct descent. There were nice views along High Divide, and the south face of Keep Kool Butte skied well with just a kiss of sun softening. The woods below were manky, and I intercepted my uptrack shortly before running out of snow. I grabbed my stashed hiking boots and walked baack to the car around 2pm. Great trip and I didn't see a soul the entire time (although once again the sled trackers were lame).
The weekend before last, in the midst of this unusual mid-January high pressure system, Adam and Matt and I went out and climbed Chair Peak, a mountain that I’ve been near countless times but had never summitted. Although the NE Buttress is the classic ice climbing route, we opted instead to climb an easier route via the bowl to the east of the mountain so we could ascend what we were planning on skiing. It ended up being a great day out with stunning views from the top - an excellent choice given the conditions and our other constraints.
We got a leisurely start, leaving the throngs of AIARE courses in the Alpental parking lot and heading up past Source Lake towards the Snow Lake Divide. As we climbed towards the divide, there were neat wisps of clouds blowing up the Alpental Valley and over towards Snow Lake. We made quick progress up past the Thumb Tack into the big basin to the east of Chair Peak, and, rather then climbing the SE Face “gully” that is the standard descent route for ice climbers, we headed one gully further climbers’ left which looked like better skiing. We booted up the last bit of this gully to reach the South Ridge, then, with no promising skiing ahead of us, left our skis for the rest of the climb. We descended about 50 vertical feet on the west side of the ridge to bypass a rocky rib, then roped up to simul climb a traversing pitch of steep exposed snow to reach the ridge again. We made a short rappel to get past a step on the ridge, leaving a fixed line for our return, then booted up a steep gully and easier snow to reach the summit.
Clouds below The Tooth from the skintrack on the way up.
Matt demonstrating his nutrition strategy for optimal performance. Chair Peak behind.
Matt and Adam skinning into the basin below the East Face of Chair Peak. We climbed and skied the widest gully just above Adam.
Adam booting up the gully that we used to access the South Ridge of Chair.
A neat view of the skyscrapers in Downtown Seattle poking out from behind Mount Si’s Haystack, with the Olympics across Puget Sound in the distance.
Adam leading a pitch of steep exposed snow, with Chair Peak’s summit in the distance.
We ran into a party of ice climbers on the summit, and said howdy before retracing our steps back to our skis. The gully we had climbed out of the basin was pretty steep but very aesthetic, although with variable wind crust our turns were perhaps less aesthetic. The basin below the ridge was pretty mediocre skiing, with one or two decent turns, and pretty soon we were skiing chunder down the Source Lake fan and racing out the luge track back to the ski area.
Adam just below the summit of Chair Peak, with Snow Lake below to the left.
Matt and Adam descending the gully below the summit of Chair.
Adam and Matt descending steep snow towards our skis.
Adam skiing the steep gully above the eastern basin of Chair Peak.
All in all it was a great trip!
2024 seemed to fly by, and once again I feel incredibly lucky to have had another great year full of so many incredible moments with so many great people! Last spring we took advantage of less wintery than usual weather to get out on some amazing ski traverses, and then enjoyed several trips to the east side of the Cascades for climbing and biking, the mountains over there seemed even more full of spring flowers than usual. Despite travel to exciting places including Singapore, Japan, and Costa Rica, the most important and memorable part of last year took place close to home: Becca proposed to me after a great day of climbing in Index after watching the Aurora the night before, and we’re super excited to get married this coming summer!
Last summer went by quickly as well, with great trips to Michigan’s Upper Peninsula, the Adirondacks, and climbing in the Bugaboos with some good friends. Fall brought amazing colors in the mountains and the lowlands and some great backpacking trips with friends and family, and then winter arrived in time for some fun in the snow before an end-of-year trip to Mexico for climbing over the holidays.
It’s always hard to pick, but here are some of my favorite photos from last year! Let me know what you think, and here’s to a great 2025!
Sunrise on Mount Rainier during a great traverse of the Tatoosh Range. Mount Rainier NP, WA, February 2024.
Matt making the most of a mediocre midwinter snowpack on a sunny day. Dorado Needle and Eldorado Peak in the background. Mount Baker-Snoqualmie NF, WA, February 2024.
Primus, Eldorado, and Dorado Needle as seen in this panorama from the summit of Ruby Mountain. North Cascades NP, WA, March 2024.
Icy Peak shrouded in cloud, as seen from the summit of Ruth Mountain on the first night of our amazing traverse over to Mount Shuksan. North Cascades NP, WA, March 2024.
Adam and Matt gazing at our route across the Nooksack Cirque before climbing Mount Shuksan (summit in distant upper right). North Cascades NP, WA, March 2024.
Adam and Matt skiing the Upper Curtis Glacier in a disorienting whiteout on the final day of our three day traverse. North Cascades NP, WA, March 2024.
Dunlin riding through a hillside of Balsamroot Flower. Leavenworth, WA, April 2024.
The Northern Lights over Mount Index and the Skykomish River, the night before Becca and I got engaged. Index, WA, May 2024.
Spring flowers at Kegon Falls during a quick solo trip to Japan on the way back from a conference in Singapore. Tochigi Prefecture, Japan, May 2024.
Sunset at Grand Portal Point on the shore of Lake Superior, during a great backpacking trip with Serena. Pictured Rocks National Lakeshore, MI, June 2024.
Becca climbing Like Honey at Index, with Mount Index lit up with the evening light behind. Index, WA, June 2024.
Lenticular clouds form over Mount Rainier at sunrise ahead of an incoming storm. I took this photo on a short solo overnight to shoot some film panoramas. Mount Rainier NP, WA, June 2024.
Helene and Becca descending towards the Blue Glacier after an extremely stormy ascent of Mount Olympus. Olympic NP, WA, June 2024.
Becca at sunrise with Snowpatch Spire in the background, during an amazing climbing trip in the Bugaboos, highlighted by an ascent of the classic NE Ridge of Bugaboo Spire. Bugaboo Provincial Park, BC, Canada, July 2024.
Sean, Becca, and Eric carefully traversing the exposed summit ridge of Bugaboo Spire, with the Howser Towers in the background. Bugaboo Provincial Park, BC, Canada, July 2024.
Morning light on grain bins in the Palouse region of eastern Washington, during a stop on my road trip to Wyoming. Whitman County, WA, July 2024.
The Milky Way over a grain elevator in eastern Washington, where I camped before heading to Wyoming. Whitman County, WA, July 2024.
Adam and Becca ascending what remains of the Colonial Glacier on a blustery late summer day, enroute to climb Snowfield. North Cascades NP, WA, August 2024.
Sunrise light on Paul Bunyan’s Stump, with some late summer flowers in the foreground. North Cascades NP, WA, August 2024.
Mike climbing Ragged Edge on Vesper Peak on the one smoky weekend of the summer. Mount Baker-Snoqualmie NF, WA, September 2024.
Stormy light on Three Fingers and Whitehorse Mountains on an abortive attempt to climb Mixup Peak. Glacier Peak Wilderness, WA, September 2024.
Sunrise over Stiletto Lake on a great backpacking trip with friends. North Cascades NP, WA, October 2024.
Adam riding through a golden larch forest on a birthday celebration trip. Sawtooth Mountains, WA, October 2024.
Fall colors at Elowah Falls on McCord Creek. Columbia River Gorge NRA, Oregon, November 2024.
Clouds filling the Alpental Valley pour over the Snow Lake divide on a post-Thanksgiving ski trip. Alpine Lakes Wilderness, WA, December 2024.
Adam getting a little airtime on an early season ski trip near Stevens Pass, WA, December 2024.
Adam enjoying some turns in the sun on an early season ski trip near Stevens Pass, WA, December 2024.
Becca climbing a route called Nosferatus in the stunning Tecolote Cave in El Salto, Nuevo Leon, Mexico, December 2024.
After visiting El Salto, Becca and I headed back through Monterrey to El Portrero Chico for a few more days of climbing. EPC is a more well known spot than El Salto, and is famous for its long bolted multipitch climbs. We met up with our friends Ash and Brendan there, and had a lovely time, although we might have liked El Salto even more.
The highlight of our trip for me was supporting Becca on an amazing onsight attempt on El Sendero Luminso, a 15 pitch 5.12+ that is one of the most famous and challenging routes in EPC. Unfortunately Becca fell on the crux move of the crux pitch, but onsighted every single other part of the route - she’s a total badass!
The limestone geology of the area is amazing, and we enjoyed incredible views up high near the top of the route before descending pretty much the whole thing in the dark.
We got a lazy start on our first day, and met up with some other friends before climbing Blind Faith, a three pitch 5.11 (most parties skip the fourth pitch). I led the crux and thought it was challenging but fun. We got a nice view of another party across the canyon from us before heading to Las Agujas (“the spires,” two rock needles) to climb the classic Aguja Celo Rey, which climbs up smaller of the two spires with a very cool second pitch.
Climbers across the canyon from us, as seen from Blind Faith.
On day 2, Becca and I wanted to climb something a bit harder as a warm up for an attempt on El Sendero Luminoso. We picked Zapatista, a five pitch 5.12. The approach was loose and unpleasant, although the vegetation was very cool. Unfortunately, neither of us really enjoyed the climbing, which was fairly vegetated, and we decided to bail after the crux pitch. As an upside, I got to try out my new 2mm dyneema pull cord for the long rap. That evening, we got organized and went to bed early for an early start on El Sendero Luminso the next day.
Cool vegetation on the approach to Zapatista.
El Bobo (“the dunce”) as seen from near the base of Zapatista.
We left our place early and reached the base of the route just as it started to get light. We were thrilled to have the route all to ourselves, and Becca immediately started dispatching the very sustained first five pitches, with me belaying and jugging after her. It was amazing watching Becca climb, and, although she unfortunately fell on the crux move of P2, she did an incredible job. We got to put some new systems for us to the test, and we reached the bivy ledge, roughly halfway in effort, with lots of daylight left. We were feeling good.
Sunrise over the city of Hidalgo from the top of P1 or P2 of El Sendero Luminoso.
At the ledge we had some food and started off on the second half of the route, with ten more pitches to go. Becca led all the hard climbing, and I took over the sharp end for two of the less-than-stellar vegetated throwaway pitches. We weren’t making awesome time, but we could reach the top of the route before dark. We liked the idea of finishing the route, but that would mean we would be descending the 15 rappels to the ground mostly in the dark. We decided to go for it, and we spent the rest of the afternoon climbing alone, high above town, but listening to mariachi music floating up to us from people partying near the mouth of the canyon more than 1,000 vertical feet straight below us. Surreal.
Becca following one of the less-than-classic pitches (P10) high on the route.
We reached the top of the route about 30 mins before sunset, and wasted no time starting to descend. As darkness fell, we continued to hear all the festivities in town below us - some memorable rappels! We decided to take it very slowly and carefully on the rappels. It was already dark, so no need to rush, and we didn’t want to do anything stupid - it was descending this route where famous climber Brad Gobright died after rapping off the end of his rope in 2019. We made it down without incident, although both of us were ready to get out of our harnesses by the time we reached the ground, and after hiking back to our rented house, it was an 18.5 hour day door to door.
Climbers’ lights in the distance at dusk from near the top of El Sendero Luminoso.
Becca rappeling in the dark, with the lights of town far below.
We had only one more day to climb, so despite being a bit tired from the day before, Becca and I linked up with Ash and Brendan to go back to Las Agujas and get back on Aguja Celo Rey for a fun last climb. Ash did a great job on the airy second pitch, while I led us up Off the Notch, which goes up the opposite spire for a very cool view. We descended by headlamp and had a great dinner to cap a great trip!
Ash leading the second pitch of Aguja Celo Rey.
Ash and Brendan on top of the smaller aguja after climbing Aguja Celo Rey, as seen from the top of the other spire
The next morning (New Years Eve), Becca and I said goodbye to Ash and Brendan and headed into the city for our flights back to Seattle. We rang in the New Year from the train on the way home from the Seattle airport, a fun way to end some great holiday travel.
After a few days in California, Becca and I headed south to the state of Nuevo Leon, in the northeast of Mexico, to do some climbing, linking up with our friend Eric. We started in El Salto, an amazing limestone climbing area surrounding the lovely (and tiny) town of La Ciénega de González, up in the Sierra Madre Oriental mountains. All the climbing is within walking distance of town, so instead of renting a car we caught a ride into town from the airport and then enjoyed exploring on foot.
The day we arrived in Monterrey it was foggy and raining, and it was dark by the time we made it out of the city and up into the mountains. The one road into La Ciénega is steep, narrow, and winding, and the thick fog, awful visibility, and many hairpin turns sure made for a memorable trip into town. We could only imagine the mountains out the window.
Waking up the next morning, though, we had beautiful weather, and just enough lingering fog to give the steep limestone ridges and gorges some definition. We spent our first few days exploring a couple of the different crags. One of the most spectacular spots was La Cueva del Tecolote (Tecolote Cave), a cave high up the wall of the canyon through which the Río Santa Catarina flows.
A panorama showing the stunning view while Becca works on Nosferatus 5.12c at La Cueva de Tecolote
Serafin, the beloved local dog who is so ugly she’s cute.
Becca carrying her pack through waist deep water on the way to the cave. While the hike is dry in a typical climbing season, this year has been fairly wet, so most of the intermittent watercourses are still flowing, meaning that wading was required to access several of the crags.
Looking up into Tecolote Cave from top of a super cool 5.10, El Culo De Merlin
Eric in “the ultimate butt shot” taken at one of the tufa rests on Huiratica 5.13a/b
Eric climbing in the smaller cave near Tecolote, on a route called Tu Felicidad 5.11d
Becca in a nice rest while unfortunately off route on super classic Nosferatus 5.12c
On Christmas Eve we took a rest day, and Becca and I walked up La Boca canyon in the late afternoon for a nice view of the surrounding mountains and back down the canyon.
Neat limestone textures above La Boca Canyon
Becca and I on our rest day walk
Our time in El Salto went by super quickly, and before we knew it there was only one more day of climbing left. After sending some of our other projects at other crags, including my first 5.12, we headed back to Tecolote for a final day.
Our last view down the canyon of Río Santa Catarina before hiking back to town on our last day.
Once again, we piled into a cab, this time with some new friends, and drove back towards Monterrey. Becca and I visited El Portrero Chico for a few more days of climbing before heading back to the US.
The highlight of our winter holiday travel was a 10 day climbing trip to Mexico, and I’ll write another post about that shortly, but first: on the way down to Mexico, Becca and I stopped in Southern California for a few days for a little pre-Christmas family reunion. I was only there for three days, but managed to get out and take a few pictures along the way.
I flew in to LAX and rented a car to catch the rest of the family near Palm Springs. After battling my way through LA traffic, I had scarce time before it got dark, but I wanted to catch the sunset, so I bounced my rental up the Black Mountain road and hiked the short distance to the fire lookout tower to enjoy a surreal view down towards San Gorgonio Pass and into the Inland Empire, with twinkling lights and sprawling highways.
The San Gabriel Mountains and the lights of Riverside County from Black Mountain at dusk.
The two days later we went with the extended family to Joshua Tree National Park to do a mixture of strolling, a quick bouldering session, and then a little bit of astrophotography - everyone had a grand time.
Joshua trees in the afternoon light
Granite boulders and Joshua trees at sunset
Joshua trees silhouetted at dusk
The winter Milky Way over some Joshua Trees
Finally, on our last day in California, I snuck out under the cover of darkness and drove back to the park to catch the sunrise before returning to collect Becca and catch our flight to Mexico.
Sunrise on some Cholla Cactus
Cholla Cactus in the morning light
Cholla Cactus in the the morning light
Merry Christmas, folks! While I’m in warmer climes for the holidays, two weeks ago I got out with Adam and Matt and a few other friends for a full day of ski touring near Stevens Pass.
We had a single day forecasted of nice weather, and with a decent amount of fresh snow, I was excited to get out and do a big day of skiing. I also really wanted to photograph the sunrise, so I left home at an unpleasant hour, planning on meeting the boys a bit later. I drove up to Stevens in the dark, arriving at the upper parking lot a bit past 6:30 am. The parking lot was empty and silent, full of fog, and I headed out into the peaceful forest, skinning up the road towards Skyline Lake, which I crossed before heading up towards the ridge above.
Predawn fog glowing in the morning light at Skyline Lake.
As I climbed up the ridge, I popped above the predawn fog and into clear skies, with a beautiful early morning glow lighting the trees. I reached a high point on the ridge shortly before sunrise, and had stunning views down into the Nason Creek valley to the east, with wisps of clouds blowing through the valley below.
Nason Creek valley before sunrise, with Rock Mountain and Mount Howard in the distance.
Soon the sun began to illuminate the distant peaks of the Dakobed range, with Clark and Luahna glowing orange, accentuated by a bit of fog in the air. On the west side of the Cascade crest, the valleys were full of clouds, with only the summits poking out like islands. Sloan Peak’s distinctive profile looked dramatic, and the Monte Cristo area summits a little further west filled out the panorama.
Clark and Luahna in the morning sun, made hazy by a lingering patch of fog.
Mount Howard and Rock Mountain above Nason Creek.
The Monte Cristo Peaks and Sloan Peak poking out above clouds to the west.
Backlit trees and fog above Skyline Lake.
It was a beautiful morning, but I had to ski down to meet up with Adam and Matt. I ripped skins and zipped down the road, then made a quick visit to the parking lot porta-potty before heading a short ways down Route 2 to link up with the boys. We had been offered a sled tow a few miles in by some friends of ours, and after getting organized, soon we were a few miles up a snow covered Forest Service road. We started skinning along the forested creek, and soon were battling through the brushy bottom of a huge slidepath.
Adam following Matt through the woods.
A bit higher up, we made our way onto more open slopes and into the sun, which felt a bit more powerful than we were expected. Plenty of kick turns later, we reached the summit above the slide path, and enjoyed more great views of Glacier Peak and other summits before getting ready to ski down.
Our friends on the sunny skintrack, with a few lingering wisps of clouds.
Mount Phelps, Grotto, Baring, and Index from our summit.
Adam dropped in first, and looked great making turns in the sun until just out of sight. Unfortunately for him, he was still in sight when he leaned too far forward and fell over the handlebars, victim of another classic case of forgetting to put his boots in ski mode. The rest of us skied after him, and we had time for several more laps on less solar aspects before the sun started getting low in the sky. A few minutes before sunset, we dropped in for our final lap, and had great skiing in golden light all the way back down to the valley bottom.
Adam skiing sunny slopes on our first lap.
…and getting a little air on some shadier slopes.
Skiing down the south face at sunset. Mount Fernow in the background.
We weaved through the brush at the valley bottom as the light faded, and met up with our buddies for a quick tow back to our cars. A really great early season day.
The weekend after Thanksgiving, Adam, Helene, Becca, and I headed up to Alpental to get outside after a busy week of Thanksgiving commitments. Were in the midst of an unseasonably long and stable temperature inversion in Western Washington, with a high pressure system driving away storm systems and giving us a week of clear skies and fog in the valleys and lowlands. When we left the car, it was a brisk 24 degrees at the valley bottom and quite foggy, while the top of the ski area, 2,000 vertical feet higher, was a balmy 46 degrees in the sun.
With Becca and Helene still getting their snow legs under them, we set out for a relaxed day, walking up the well-compacted trail towards Snow Lake in the fog.
Adam and Becca climbing up some lovingly-carved steps as we approach the Snow Lake divide.
The Snow Lake divide was pretty socked in, with clouds pouring over the ridge and flowing downslope to Snow Lake before dissipating in the sun. The fog and strong winds made for some very cool ice patterns on the trees, and the mix of fog and sun gave us some beautiful light.
Fog and sunlight on the shore of the partially-frozen Snow Lake.
Frosty trees above Snow Lake. Note the ice on the distant part of the lake (below Mount Roosevelt), which is more sheltered from the wind, while the closer part of the lake has been kept ice-free by katabatic winds flowing down from the Divide.
Sunshine on Chair Peak while clouds flow down from the Snow Lake divide.
After romping partway around Snow Lake, we headed back up to the Divide and started breaking trail west towards Chair Peak. The clouds and wind were highly localized, with it being quite calm in some spots, and super windy in others just a few dozen yards away. We picked our way through the fog near the crest of the ridge, enjoying the eerie ambiance.
Becca, Adam, and Helene on the way back up towards the Snow Lake divide.
Helene and Becca working their way through wispy bands of fog towards Chair Peak.
As we approached the eastern slopes of Chair Peak, we climbed just a tiny bit higher, and were rewarded with a crazy view - the Alpental Valley full to the brim with clouds, sloshing gently like a bathtub, their tops just a hundred vertical feet below us. Climbing a little bit higher, we could look back towards the Divide and see the clouds pouring down towards Snow Lake.
Helene, Becca, and Adam on the skintrack above the Alpental Valley, full of clouds. Denny Mountain in the background.
Mount Snoqualmie in the last of the evening light, with the clouds filling the Alpental Valley pouring over the Snow Lake divide and flowing downslope towards Snow Lake, out of sight to the left.
We hung out as the sun set, enjoying the magical view, then started skiing down as darkness fell. The snow was somewhat crusty, which made for tricky skiing conditions, but everyone did great, and it was super cool to descend into the fog, which reflected our headlamps back into our faces. Bryant and Chair peaks both looked extra magical in the glow of the fading light, and pretty quickly we were back on the well-trodden trail to Source Lake.
Adam and Helene descending, with Mount Snoqualmie in the background at sunset.
Adam skiing towards Source Lake as Mount Snoqualmie catches the last of the evening light.
Adam and Becca skiing by headlamp into the fog.
We all had an entertaining time chasing one another down the trail and back to the car.
Last week we had some really nice weather in Seattle for the Thanksgiving Holiday, and lots of family visiting from various places around the country. Juggling family commitments meant I couldn’t always get outside as much as I wanted, but I was still able to sneak out here and there, and we all went on some really nice trips to local spots both in and outside the city.
Thursday morning, with fog settling overnight thanks to our stable inversion, I got up early before picking Eric up from the airport and headed across Lake Washington to Newcastle Hill, hoping to catch a view of the skyscrapers in downtown Seattle poking through the fog, with sunrise light on the Olympics across Puget Sound to the West. Unfortunately, the fog was a bit too thick, with only the top few floors of the Columbia Tower (the tallest building downtown) poking out. The view of the Brothers above the fog was still lovely, though.
The Olympics at sunrise from Newcastle, with The Brothers at the left, and Mount Constance on the right. Downtown Seattle is hidden in the fog at the lower right. If you look closely, you can see the very top of the Columbia Tower poking out of the fog, below Mount Townsend.
The Brothers at sunrise on Thanksgiving morning, above fog filling the Puget Sound basin.
Fog swirling through the woods of suburban Bellevue.
On Friday, Luc kindly took us up the Smith Tower, the oldest skyscraper in Seattle (and at one point, the tallest building west of the Mississippi) for a view of the city - we were super lucky with the weather, and watching the light come on in all the buildings downtown as the sun set was remarkable. It was also fun to watch all the activity in Elliot Bay: ferries coming and going, tugboats maneuvering ships, and lots more.
The Columbia Tower and the rest of Downtown Seattle from the Smith Tower, looking to the North.
Beacon Hill, Sodo, the Port of Seattle, and West Seattle lit up at dusk from the Smith Tower, looking to the South.
Finally, on Saturday, we took a family trip down to the Green River Gorge, outside of Enumclaw. We stopped in a few spots, including seeing the 1,300 vertical foot deep mineshaft at the ghost town of Franklin, which plunges straight down to well below sea level. We walked through the gorge as well, and saw the last of the Fall’s salmon run, with plenty of carcasses lining the banks of the river, and a few stragglers still swimming in eddies and the like.
The Green River flowing through its eponymous gorge, with lovely banks full of moss, ferns, and maples.
The Green River Gorge
Salmon carcasses on the shore of the Green River
Last month I traveled to Costa Rica to attend CSCW, a large conference. I had hoped to go paragliding before the conference started, but the weather was unseasonably rainy, so I wasn’t able to fly, although I did succeed in getting myself and my paraglider absolutely covered with angry, biting ants. The conference itself was held at the national convention center of Costa Rica, which, although a beautiful building, is out in the suburbs next to a big highway - not much within walking distance. Although it rained pretty much the whole trip, I still was able to escape to a few interesting sights, and I enjoyed walking around with my camera during breaks at the conference. On the way back, I visited Luca and Caroline in Houston, and wandered around seeing some Houston sights as well.
Enjoy and let me know what you think!
A church along the Carretera Interamericana, high in the mountains of Costa Rica.
A group of women walking along the road on the slopes of Volcán Irazú.
Plastic barrels sitting in a field of foggy crops on Volcán Irazú.
A pigeon inside the abandoned Durán Sanatorium
The abandoned Durán Sanatorium, constructed in 1918 to treat Tuberculosis patients.
Street scene just across the highway from the convention center in San Jose, Costa Rica.
Overgrown power lines along the streets of San Jose.
Transmission lines in Houston, Texas.
A highway overpass in Houston.
Saturn V rocket detail at the Johnson Space Center, in Houston.
With snow piling up in the mountains, last weekend Serena and I headed out on a little road trip to enjoy the fall colors on the east side of the Cascades and in the Columbia River Gorge. We headed over Snoqualmie Pass and into Yakima Canyon for a pleasant walk along Umtanum Creek, then down to Yakima and up the Tieton River before a little ski side-trip at White Pass. We headed south through Klickitat County to hit the Columbia River, and followed it downstream to the we(s)t side of the Cascades, stopping at a handful of classic waterfalls along the way. It’s always fun to see the character of the landscape change as you cross out of the rain shadow when traveling through the gorge — The Dalles receives an average of less than 14 inches of rain a year, while Cascade Locks receives almost 74 inches of rain, despite being only 35 miles away.
Our road trip was a really nice way to spend a November weekend. Below are a few photos that I took!
A small stand of Aspens in Umtanum Canyon, part of the Yakima River watershed.
Fall colors along the watercourse of Umtanum Creek, with exposed basalt and drier vegetation on the slopes of the canyon above
A post-apocalyptic scene of stumps revealed by the low water levels in Rimrock Lake, a reservoir impounded by Tieton Dam
Western Larches showing their fall colors, with Clear Creek Falls in the background
Fall colors on the shore of Lake Bonneville, a man-made lake created by the impounded Columbia River
One of the hairpin turns on the Rowena Loops along the Historic Columbia River Highway
Cascades along a smaller creek in the Columbia River Gorge
Moss and Maples along a small creek in the Columbia River Gorge
The bigger waterfalls in the gorge get most of the attention, but the smaller waterfalls are pleasant and peaceful
Elowah Falls from above
Elowah Falls and McCord Creek
The upper tier of Multnomah Falls.
Just before winter arrived I snuck out for a midweek sunset trip to the Tatoosh, just south of Mount Rainier.
Sunset on Mount Rainier, with a frozen tarn in the foreground. I took this photo with my panoramic film camera on Ektar 100 film.
I left work after lunch and drove down to Mount Rainier National Park. With the Stevens Canyon Road already closed for the season, I brought along a bike for the short ride from the (open) road to Paradise. The road was icy and snowy in a few spots, but it only took a few minutes to ride down to Reflection Lakes. The skies were clear with some high clouds, and I hoped for a nice sunset.
A nice afternoon for riding a bike along the closed Stevens Canyon Road - and thanks Becca for letting me steal your bike!
At Reflection Lakes, I stashed the bike in the woods, the went down to the lake for a moment to enjoy the view - unfortunately, the one other party that was there had brought along their drone, which was not only annoying but also illegal.
Unicorn Peak and the rest of the Tatoosh, with the Goat Rocks and Mount Adams in the sun further south.
With the sunset coming up quickly, I started hiking up to the south. Once I reached the crest of the range, the views to the south were stunning, with lots of fresh snow in the Goat Rocks, and lovely views of Mount Adams. The southern aspects were bare, but north facing slopes held a foot or more of snow. It was fun looking over towards Unicorn Peak and the eastern part of the Tatoosh, where I had last been last winter during a fun ski traverse. I postholed down to a beautiful little alpine lake, and started snapping photos.
Mount Rainier above a frozen tarn in the Tatoosh. Note the Paradise Inn and Visitors Center in the distance.
A snowy scene around the lake outlet.
Panorama from above the lakeshore.
Cool patterns in the ice forming along the inlet stream.
As the sun set, the clouds to the west grew thicker, somewhat dampening the color in the sky. However, it was still a gorgeous evening, and I hung out until it was quite dark before hiking back down to the road. A few quick but chilly minutes of biking brought me back to my car, and I headed back home.
Last weekend, as one of the first big winter storms rolled through the Pacific Northwest, I wrangled up a big group of friends to head up to Mount Baker to soak in the moisture, and hopefully get a few skiing turns in. We were successful on both fronts!
Adam, Matt, and I left Seattle at a civilized hour, heading up to Bellingham to rendezvous with Pieter, Jackie, Camille, and Austin. Early that morning, Bellingham had received nearly 2 inches of rain in 2 hours, flooding Pieter’s basement and bringing down a small landslide in the city which closed I-5 for most of the day. A good pow omen.
The Heliotrope trailhead had only one other car there, a hiker who returned to the trailhead shortly after we started hiking. The trailhead was a solid 1,500 feet below the snowline, so we enjoyed intermittent rain showers as we strapped our skis to our packs and started hiking through the woods. Only the occasional glimpse of snowcovered trees higher up the ridge reminded us that skiing was a possibility, but, soon enough, we were hiking through a slushy inch or two of snow.
The gang starting up the trail.
We ditched our boots and started skinning pretty close to treeline, heading up through rocky terrain as we aimed for the permanent snow patches that abut the western edge of the Coleman Glacier. The occasional blast of strong winds and blowing snow kept us from overheating.
Matt picking the direct line as we skinned up towards the Coleman Glacier.
Eventually, we reached the edge of the permanent snow, which made for much easier skiing conditions. Up on the snowfield, the visibility was atrocious, with blowing clouds obscuring the views. Nonetheless, we were all in high spirits.
A brief moment of relatively good visibility below the snowfield.
Not much to see as we skinned up the snowfield.
We skinned to the top of the ridge circa 7,200 feet, and transitioned. The skiing on the glacier was pretty good, but the absolute whiteout made for entertaining skiing.
Eating lunch at the top of Heliotrope Ridge before transitioning to ski down.
Pieter demonstrating excellent white-out skiing technique on the snowfield.
Below the snowfield, the rocks and vegetation sticking out of the snow made for much better visual reference, and we all had a great time skiing as low as we possibly could, lack of snow notwithstanding.
Matt giving his skis a quick mid-descent rinse for maximum performance.
Eventually, though, all good things must come to an end, and we strapped our skis back on our packs for the hike back to the cars. Stoked for the coming season!
Hiking back out to the car.
I’ve been too busy with work recently, but two weeks ago I got out with Becca, Adam, and Helene to celebrate all four of our October birthdays, with Matt joining for Sunday. We had perfect weather, and had a truly multisport weekend, starting with climbing on the Goat Wall, mountain biking up to Cooney Lake, and then I stayed out Sunday night while the others headed back to Seattle.
Becca and I drove over from Seattle on Saturday morning and linked up with Adam and Helene, who nicely stashed a vehicle at the top of the Goat Wall for us. We got a relaxed start climbing Prime Rib, an 11 pitch 5.9- fully bolted “alpine sport” climb. We were delighted to have the whole route to ourselves, and flew up it as two parties of two.
Becca following one of the lower pitches of Prime Rib, with beautiful fall colors in the Methow Valley below.
Becca leading P5 of Prime Rib.
Becca on P11, with Adam and Helene below.
Becca, Helene, and Adam at the top of Prime Rib, with the Gardners in the background.
At the top of the route, we enjoyed lovely views and sunshine before walking back to Adam’s van and heading in to Twisp to grab some groceries. We made a nice dinner before heading up to the Foggy Dew trailhead for the next day’s activities.
Having ridden the popular Angels Staircase loop a few years in a row, we were excited to try something a bit new, so we planned on a less popular ride in a similar area. Our plan was to head up the Foggy Dew trail to Cooney Lake, hike-a-bike up to Switchback, then ride down into Merchants’ Basin and back out Foggy Creek. However, climb up Foggy Dew was quite technical (much more challenging than the far more popular Martin Creek approach to Cooney Lake), and we made slower-than-anticipated progress. We decided to ditch the loop, and just ride up to the beautiful lake as an out-and-back. A bit underwhelming of a day, but everyone did a great job, and the ride back out was fast and fun!
Adam blasting through the larch forest next to Cooney Lake.
Helene and Adam cruising through gorgeous fall colors on the Foggy Dew trail.
After getting back to the trailhead and enjoying some freshly baked cookies (thanks, Adam!), I said farewell to everyone else, and drove back up to Rainy Pass. I hiked up to Heather Pass by headlamp, then continued on up to the summit of a nearby peak. Unfortunately, I was a bit too slow to catch a view of Comet Tsuchinshan–ATLAS, which had already set by the time I got out of the forest. However, I still had a pleasant night in my bivy.
Panorama with morning light on Black Peak. From left to right: Frisco, Glacier Peak and the southern Ptarmigan Traverse summits more glaciated in the distance (see below for a closer-view), Corteo, Black Peak, Arrive, Repulse, Fisher, Katsuk, and Mesahchie at far right.
Glacier Peak in the morning light.
Panorama with Glacier Peak, Agnes, Gunsight, Sinister, Dome, Spire Point, Old Guard, and Sentinel all visible.
Dome Peak and the Chickamin Glacier in the distance.
Larch and talus.
Beautiful colors below Heather Pass.
Lake Ann’s little island.
I packed up and quickly headed back down the trail, then back to Seattle. A really nice weekend with great people.
Last week we gathered a big group of friends for a lovely mellow overnight near the Methow, where we’d been biking with our good friend Dunlin earlier in the week. I wanted to see some fall colors and avoid the crowds, and we ended up accomplishing both objectives! The five of (Adam, Alex, Helene, Dunlin, and myself) got a relaxed start on Saturday morning, flying past the chaos of the Blue Lake trailhead to park at the relatively empty PCT trailhead at Bridge Creek. On the drive up, we noticed quite a bit of fresh snow up high from the previous days’ storm, which I was excited about. We left the car at 10am and headed down the PCT for a few mins before crossing the creek and heading around the edge of the Blue Lake burn from last summer before catching the trail up to the old Stiletto lookout site.
Sunrise panorama on Sunday morning, with lots of North Cascades classics. From L-R: Bonanza, Bowan Mountain, Glacier Peak, McGregor, Dome Peak, Spite Point, Sentinel, and Old Guard.
We climbed up through the woods on many switchbacks, checking out all the different kinds of scat that Dunlin’s observant eyes noticed. After passing a few other folks, we reached the site of the old lookout, and had really stunning views in all directions. Dunlin brought a pair of binoculars, and we could see the absolute conga line of hikers on the trail up to Maple Pass—nice to avoid that!
Dunlin hanging out at the site of the old fire lookout, below Black Peak. Corteo at left and the Ragged Ridge at right, and notice the highway below.
After basking in the sun for a while, we headed east along some fading tread towards Stiletto’s West Ridge. We contoured through easy terrain around the south side of Stiletto, then dropped our packs and hopped talus up to the saddle between Stiletto and Jackknife Peak, to the east.
The group heading east past the lookout site, with Silver Star in the distance. The base of Stiletto’s West Ridge is at right.
As we started scrambling up the pleasant East Ridge of Stiletto, a pretty spirited snowball fight developed (I won’t tell who threw the first ball). It was a strong incentive to scramble first - the higher ground is a tactical advantage! We reached the summit of Stiletto without any challenges, and the views were great under overcast skies.
Looking down into larchy meadows from high on Stiletto.
We downclimbed and retrieved our packs, then continued through more open terrain with a discontinuous bootpath before finding a lovely spot to set up camp near the base of Jackknife’s South Ridge.
Helene traversing some slabs on our way to camp.
After setting up camp, we scrambled a few hundred feet up said South Ridge before finding a pleasant spot to hangout and watch the sunrise, which was somewhat subdued due to the overcast.
We headed back to camp by headlamp (well, not all of us used our headlamps - they give away your position, making you more vulnerable to snowballs), then made dinner and went to sleep.
The next morning, I got up as it was getting light, and traversed around the east side of Jackknife, climbing up above Stiletto Lake. The sky lit up with brilliant color, and I gleefully snapped away with my camera.
Sunrise panorama above Stiletto Lake. Switchblade Peak above the lake at left, with Gilbert Mountain below the sunrise, and the Twisp River valley just to the right. Lincoln Butte and Crescent Mountain are to the right, then Twisp Mountain and Hock Mountain at far right.
I scampered up the short gully leading to the prominent notch on the South Ridge of Jackknife in time to catch the first light of the day on the peaks to the southwest. Just beautiful.
Glacier Peak above Heather Ridge at sunrise.
Bonanza and Bowan Mountain.
I downclimbed the west side of the ridge as I made my way back to camp to make a loop, arriving while everyone else was still in their tents. Before long, though, folks got up, and Dunlin spotted a Blue Grouse up in a larch, feasting on needles. We took our time watching him munch before making breakfast and packing up.
Grouse…
…and Grouse-watchers.
We traversed over the short distance towards Stiletto Lake, crossing a beautifully autumnal slope, then stopped at Stiletto Lake to fill up water. Back on an official trail, we headed down towards Twisp Pass, stopping for plenty of photos. At the pass, we made a somewhat impromptu decision to extend our loop by returning via Copper Pass, rather than just descending past Dagger Lake towards Bridge Creek, which also would give us more time above treeline.
Beautiful fall colors below Stiletto Lake, with Hock Mountain peaking out at the right, at Twisp Mountain at the center of the frame.
Adam and Alex traversing some talus enroute to Stiletto Lake. Hock Mountain at left.
Group photo at Stiletto Lake, with Hock Mountain in the background.
The pleasant shores of Stiletto Lake.
Below Twisp pass, we continued down the trail, with intermittent views, before crossing the North Fork of the Twisp River and intersecting the trail up towards Copper Pass. This trail was in great shape and had been freshly logged-out for the first mile we were on it, then was still easy to follow as it climbed towards Copper Pass. In the forest, Dunlin spotted a beautiful (and edible) Bear’s Head Tooth Fungus, then we continued up above treeline.
The gang with a Bear’s Head Tooth Fungus, the state mushroom of Vermont.
The views from Copper Pass were gorgeous, and it was fun to look up at Blue Lake Peak from the south. For next time, it looks like it’s possible to traverse easily cross country directly from Stiletto Lake to Copper Pass without dropping into the Twisp River drainage, for a more aesthetic and direct line (albeit with potentially fewer edible fungi).
Helene and Alex heading down the trail just north of Copper Pass. Blue Lake Peak at upper right.
We headed down the trail on the north side of Copper Pass, slowly descending but staying out in the open until we hit the edge of the Blue Lake burn. There, we followed the trail back down to Bridge Creek, which has been repaired since the fire and was easy to follow except in one short segment near Copper Creek, then we retraced our steps back across Bridge Creek and up the PCT to the car. A lovely outing!
Last weekend, in oder to celebrate the reopening of the Cascade River Road, Adam and I headed up to take a look at Mixup Peak, a mountain which has long intrigued my but I have never attempted. Although Mixup is often climbed car to car, we opted for a relaxed two day trip as I was excited about camping somewhere pretty. We ended up bailing after the weather on Sunday was worse than forecasted, but had a sleeper stunning sunset on Saturday as a consolation prize, and still had a great time on our twins trip.
Dramatic light on Three Fingers and Whitehorse.
We left the trailhead in the mid afternoon and cruised up the obnoxiously gentle trail to Cascade Pass under overcast skies. The fall foliage was gorgeous, and we had nice views down the valley to Eldorado and its neighbors. I couldn’t see any signs of the Pincer Two fire which kept the North Fork Cascade River off limits for much of the summer.
Adam heading up Mixup Arm above Cascade Pass, with nice fall foliage.
From Cascade Pass, we left the crowds behind as we headed up the climbers’ trail up Mixup Arm. We met another party that had bailed on Mixup after running out of time - they hadn’t even made it to the Cache Glacier - but perhaps this was an omen? We made pretty efficient time up the ridge, and filled up water at the edge of the glacier for a dry camp at Cache Col.
Adam crossing some “vertical” dirt on Mixup Arm, with Booker in the distance.
Cool ice patterns on the Cache Glacier.
The Cache Glacier is melted down to the bare ice this time of year, revealing cool patterns in the ice. We threw our crampons on and headed towards the col, taking a look at the Gunsight Notch which provides access to the climbing route on Mixup. We knew that in the late season, crossing the moat and accessing the notch can be challenging, so we had come prepared for battle, with ice screws, extra pro, and some extra rope in case we needed to leave a fixed line. However, the moat didn’t look too bad, although the rock below the notch(es) certainly looked dirty. Either way, I thought we could make it go - I’ll have to come back to verify, though!
The Cache Glacier moat and Gunsight Notch(es) on the route up Mixup. We’ll have to come back to see how hard it is to climb off the glacier and up to the notch!
Adam heading up the Cache Glacier. Mixup’s summit is to the left, with Forbidden and Sahale on the far side of Cascade Pass.
Adam playing in the moat at the top of the Cache Glacier, just below Cache Col.
We cruised up the glacier to Cache Col, where we were greeted with a hearty breeze. We dropped our camping gear and headed a short ways up the ridge towards Magic to watch the sunset, although with how overcast it was, I wasn’t expecting much. However, expectations be damned, a few minutes before sunset, the sun dropped below the clouds to the west, casting epic beams of light down into the Middle Fork valley, and illuminating Kool Aid lake below us. We also noticed some nice light on the Boulder River Wilderness summits to the south, glowing between pockets of rain and virga. It was really a magical moment that ended as quickly as it started, leaving only some lingering pink light on the clouds as it got properly dark.
Sunbeams in the Cascade River Valley below Mount Tommy Thompson.
Short-lived evening light on the west slopes of Magic Mountain and Kool Aid Lake, with Spider and Formidable on either side of the Middle Cascade Glacier beyond.
Some golden light on the lower flanks of Eldorado, Torment, and Forbidden, despite their summits being in the clouds.
The wind also picked up a bit, and it was a bit chilly, which motivated us to head back to our tent site and start setting up Adam’s fancy new tent. This motivation was further increased by a splattering of rain drops, but after a bit of fidgeting with the guylines, soon we were cozy in our sleeping bags in the tent, listening to the rain and wind on the fly, and thinking how much more pleasant it was inside than out. After making dinner, we drifted off to sleep, comforted with the knowledge that the National Weather Service had forecasted Mostly Sunny skies for our summit attempt on Sunday.
Unfortunately, the forecast didn’t pan out. At some point in the middle of the night, the “pttpttptt” of rain on the tent turned to the “pshpshpsh” of snow, with the deteriorating weather further punctuated by the 4:30am failure of a guyline anchor, which sent Adam out into the storm to fix while I stayed cozy in my sleeping bag. When my alarm went off just before sunrise, I poked my head outside to assess the scene: we were in a total whiteout, and every exposed surface was coated with rime ice and a few centimeters of fresh snow, with more still falling. It was pretty evident that the day wasn’t right for rock climbing, so we indulged in two more hours of snoozing before enjoying some cocoa and packing up.
Adam and I at camp in a whiteout, after testing out the stormworthiness of Adam’s new tent.
We headed down the Cache Glacier in a whiteout, waved goodbye to Mixup (hidden in the mist), and retraced our steps down to Cascade Pass, which felt properly frigid with strong wind blasting from the west.
Adam descending the Cache Glacier in a whiteout.
Until next time, Mixup!
Last week, Becca’s parents visited from Wyoming for a nice backpacking trip with my parents. While we’d initially planned for a longer trip, weather trimmed us down to a single overnight, so we headed up 542 for a lovely night out on Ptarmigan Ridge, returning via the Galena Chain Lakes loop.
A stunning sunset on Ptarmigan Ridge, with Shuksan, clouds above Baker Lake, Blum, Hagan, and Baker Lake all visible.
After lunch in Glacier at the Wake n Bakery, we headed up to Artist Point after the hillclimb road closure, and headed off towards Ptarmigan Ridge. It was a beautiful chilly day, with the blueberries starting to turn bright red, and a slight dusting of fresh snow on Shuksan and Baker, playing peek-a-boo through the clouds.
Becca, Dad, and Gaile on Ptarmigan Ridge, with Mount Shuksan in the background.
The crowds thinned out after the turn-off for Mazama Lake, and the views were stunning. We set up camp past Coleman Pinnacle, then headed further along the ridge towards The Portals, passing a group of hunters returning after successfully shooting a Mountain Goat. As we neared The Portals, the wind picked up, and clouds began spilling over the north side of the ridge, so we headed back towards camp.
Becca, Luc, and Gaile hike along Ptarmigan Ridge towards the Portals.
Clouds blow over Ptarmigan Ridge in front of Mount Baker
While the others hunkered down, Dad and I stayed up high on the ridge, enjoying an absolutely magical sunset, with a backlit lenticular cloud over Baker, evening light on Shuksan, and a striking undercast in the Baker River valley. With crisp temps, it really felt like Fall.
Evening light on Mount Hagan’s several summits.
Backlit clouds cling to Mount Baker and the Cockscomb at sunset.
The next morning, Dad and Mom and I headed up a nearby bump to watch the sunrise and the morning light on Mount Baker.
Kiva enjoying the morning light on Mount Baker.
Group photo near camp, with Mount Baker in the background
After breakfast, we all strolled down past the glacial-remnant lake to admire the resident herd of Mountain Goats, basking in the sun below Mount Baker.
Mount Baker and the glacial remnant lake on Ptarmigan Ridge
Mountain Goat below Shuksan’s summit
We retrieved our packs and headed back down the ridge and down to Mazama Lake, then, with plenty of breaks for blueberry munching, up and over Herman Saddle and down to Bagely Lakes. This part of the trip was fun for me, as, despite having been there countless times on skis, I’d never hiked the super-popular trail!
Dad and Kiva heading down from Herman Saddle towards Bagley Lakes, with Shuksan looking pretty.
Some folks waited down at Heather Meadows while Becca and Mom and I zipped back up to retrieve the cars. A really nice accessible overnight with stunning views and great company!