Always A Work in Progress (Sticky Post)

Posted on October 6, 2014 by evejakubowski

Thanks to the guy at Marathon Sports back home who made the logo! I think it’s going to have to stay here because I cannot for the life of me figure out how the hell to get it next to the title above. Eventually I’d like to have a few things added, like lists (everyone loves lists), hike of the month, and a few more categories, but for now it’s all about learning to hike, climb, and run. Elevation profiles are in the Strava links when provided, and if anyone would like a GPX file of my route, comment and let me know, I usually have one. Comments, blog suggestions, and recommendations for peaks are always welcome! Doesn’t matter whether it’s a hike, run, or climb.

Recent updates: I have started an instagram! have_tent_will_travel (because some bastards took havetent_willtravel and havetentwilltravel). Not much to it right now, but I figure it’ll keep things moving during the dreary winter days where we can all reminisce on that one time it was sunny for a record streak and we were ~~sick of the sun~~ hoping for rain.

Jim Hill Mountain Ski Tour

Posted on March 31, 2018 by evejakubowski

Gaining the north ridge of Jim Hill

I think I can honestly say that this is the first trip I’ve had that was about the skiing and not the summit or the views or anything else. We debated many trips, but settled on Jim Hill, a peak I had heard about for years but never checked out. We saw it from Rock Mountain a month or so prior, and I had always kind of poo-pooed it thinking there were better things to do. But we needed a day trip, didn’t want to trailhead camp, did want sunny blue skies, and settled on the Stevens Pass area. Jim Hill it was. Skiied 3/25/2018.

Distance: 5ish miles?
Elevation Gain: 3400 (6400 highest point, we didn’t summit)
Weather: 40’s and sunny, 40’s and cloudy, 30’s and snowing
Commute from Seattle: 2hrs without traffic
Did I Trip: Some backsliding while skinning but no faceplants or tumbles

Lanham Lake

We arrived at the trail around 8. Problem was, we had planned on starting up via Henry Creek, but couldn’t find parking anywhere and I was too lazy to figure it out so we just parked at the Stevens Pass Nordic Center and went up via Lanham Lake. Lanham Lake is a popular snowshoe, and we made quick work of the 1.5 miles to the lake. I stubbornly left my heel risers down as long as possible before finally caving and putting them up, only to have the trail flatten out. So I walked in basically high heels for another few minutes before putting them down, only to encounter another hill around the corner. I grumbled and put them back up again as Robert sang Jack Black parody songs behind me.

Almost at the ridge!!

At the lake, we crossed the outlet stream to the east and started switchbacking up through the woods. It was a surprisingly steep skin trail. Whoever was ahead of us had great balance, or just determination, because it was a few inches of fresh snow on top of an icy crust. I was hoping the other side would be a nicer ski out, because I knew immediately I wouldn’t have fun skiing the trees down to Lanham Lake.

Robert coming up the ridge

We got sneak peeks of the views to the south as the trees opened up, and finally I saw blue sky ahead! And rays of sun! Yes!! I whooped as I gained the ridge and broke out into snow covered trees and spectacular blue sky all lit up by the sun with the open slopes and glades below Jim Hill begging to be skiied. Oh my god. Robert hurry up. Look what we can do. I relented and agreed to have a snack, I can’t run on stoke and pride forever.

Weather moving in

We followed the skin track up the ridge. To my dismay, weather was already moving in. We knew it was coming, but it wasn’t supposed to get cloudy until 11am, and no snow until the afternoon! Yet here was a wall of precip coming towards us. Ah, shit. Visibility deteriorated, I decided I didn’t want to tag the true summit because it was steeper than I had expected and the northwest slopes felt totally windloaded. We decided to ski back the way we came, and once we hit the ridge we’d drop into the north basin and ski out via Henry Creek.

Visibility didn’t get too bad!

We transitioned to downhill mode and dropped onto the softest, lightest, most glorious powder I have EVER skiied. My sample size is small, but these were easily the best backcountry conditions I had ever seen. We carved two feet of powder, maybe more, whooping and hollering the whole way. It was an absolute dream. We went one at a time to be sure we liked the snowpack, and damn it was perfect. We came to a stop near another party, who was going back up for more. One more? Worth the hike? Hell yes!

Neat textures up high

Since visibility hadn’t gotten as bad as we expected, we skinned right back up for round two. It almost got sunny (“partly sunny” is often how these days are described even though you’re mostly looking at the inside of a ping pong ball) but the light never got too flat. This time we started higher up and earned ourselves an extra 200ish feet of turns, and it was worth it so many times over. I dropped in first knowing Robert would catch up and we could just party run it (everyone at once instead of one at a time). This time we kept going to the bottom. From wide open alpine slopes to open glade skiing threading the needle between sparse trees to slightly more dense trees I mean seriously I wish this run had gone on forever. We finally hit the only patch of bad snow, which was sloppy grabby crust that I did not enjoy. But I still made it through without booting it.

Robert shredding the north bowl. Two tickets to pow town!

One more with moody clouds

And from there, we had some survival skiing (slide slipping on ice, dodging thicker trees, the works), some split-board-skiing (Robert’s actually quite good at it), some forest road cruising (soft and enjoyable), and a short highway walk (sorry mom) and we were back at the car just as it started to snow and visibility was officially shot. So on one hand, we had awesome timing. But on the other hand… we definitely could have gotten in a few more laps, and right now sitting on my couch I wish I was back up there. The sound of skis slicing through champagne powder is like the sound of rain on a tin roof. There’s just something soothing about it.

Antelope Canyon 55k

Posted on March 1, 2018 by evejakubowski

Desert adventure!

Pre-race 1 mile “hike”

I’ve never really done anything exciting for my birthday. But I found this sweet race back in January, thinking it was just (“just”) a marathon. It was simultaneously a break from Seattle winter combined with a sport I love and scenery I’ve always wanted to go run through, and I could justify it as a birthday party and present for myself. I could eat a shit ton of cake, or get drunk, or cry on my couch because Pints and Pies closed, or I could take a shot at an awesome trail run. Turned out it was an ultramarathon. Eh. I ran 20 miles in January, I can walk the rest right? I miraculously connected with a woman who sold me her spot in the race 10 days before the event. But I couldn’t find anyone to go with me. Convincing people to fly to Vegas and drive to Arizona on short notice is hard. I am not a patient person and was sick of waiting on people so I made a last minute hail mary post on Seattle Mountain Running Group’s Facebook page asking if anyone was going to the Antelope Canyon races. I was hoping I’d know one single person there so it wouldn’t be as scary. And someone replied. Omg. This might actually happen.

And we’re off! At sunrise!

That someone was Sonja, who I quickly learned is a collector of people. A collector of the best kinds of people. She had no reservations about inviting me to split rental cars and lodging and made it so easy for me to tag along with their group. Suddenly it went from scary solo amateur trip to tagging along on an ultrarunning expert trip with 4 unbelievably accomplished ironman triathletes and ultrarunners. I was (still am) like the little kid trying to soak up all of the knowledge. “What’s your pace going to be?” “…somewhere between 8 and 15 minute miles?” “What do you want for your pre race meal?” “Anything’s fine.” “Do you need snacks?” “I’m all set, I got some peanut butter bites and almonds at the gas station.” Seriously, this trip was eye opening. Did you know there are triathlons that are longer than ironmans? Like 3x an ironman distance? Yeah, that’s right. There’s always more to do, and you can always be better! Luckily I’m useful for some things, like being the team sherpa and having Verizon Wireless.

Awesome rock texture on the way to Horseshoe Bend

We had a VRBO (like airbnb) literally 5 minutes from the starting line. The 100M and 50M both start at 6am, my 55k (so short in comparison) started at 7am. So we left the house at like 6:40am, which was amazing. The start was cold, but I trusted my layers and just waited for my numb stump feet to come back as we started running. The beginning of the 55k course* takes you across rolling desert hills as you run along sandy utility roads. We lucked out. It had snowed the previous day, which meant the sand was packed down and frozen. My calves were as loose as my language when I stubbed my toe on slickrock 90 minutes later.

Running along the canyon rim

We ran right past the Slickrock Aid Station on the first pass since it had only been like 2 miles. I briefly stopped at the Horseshoe Bend Aid Station to chug some electrolytes and down some bacon and peanut butter and carried on. The sandy roads eventually turn to solid slick rock as you approach Horseshoe Bend itself, which was underwhelming because of the lighting. The sun lights everything up bright red, and when we hit the canyon it was still in the shadows. Don’t get me wrong, it’s still pretty sweet, but it did not meet the unrealistic expectations I had from all of the massively photoshopped pictures I had seen. But after hitting Horseshoe Bend, we ran along the canyon rim for a while which was stellar. There were frozen puddles reminiscent of tarns in the Cascades, the views went for miles, and the slickrock meant interesting footwork as you danced along uneven layers of bright red rock.

Enjoying the views

Soon after the “technical” part, we transitioned to a mostly flat desert, which would probably have been miserable sand without the prior day’s snow. Luckily for us, it was firm. Less luckily for us, the trail blazes were few and far between and pretty difficult to see. Footsteps crisscrossed and wandered in every direction and we’d have to constantly stop at one blaze and shield the sun from our eyes as we stared in the distance looking for the next blaze, dividing and conquering. “Guys it’s over here! Go right!” “Oh I see it in the distance! Straight ahead!” “Hey can you get the guys in front of you? It’s actually this way!” I had decided I’d walk all the uphills and run the flats and the downhills, except most of this course was flat! So I had to relied on photos to slow me down.

Wandering the desert

THE FOOD (not all of it)

Wendy’s run buddy (I never caught his name, nor did I ever speak to Wendy, I just heard him shouting back to her occasionally) and I leapfrogged along with a guy in a neon yellow tee. I was thinking we were 8 or 9 miles in when we saw the Waterholes aid station in the distance. “Whoa, I thought we didn’t get an aid station until mile 13!” Wendy’s run buddy was stoked. Holy shit, we ARE at mile 13. Already?! This is awesome.

Slot canyon!!

So let me tell you about the aid stations. I’m not going to proclaim that the toilets were my best pooping experience ever like the course descriptions promised, but it wasn’t bad. The snacks, though… on point. Bacon. Peanut butter. Happy volunteers willing to put the peanut butter ON the bacon for me. Fresh avocado. Pickles. PB&J sandwiches, potato chips, peanut M&Ms, sodas, tortillas with nutella/honey/peanut butter/whatever your heart desires. And they were cup free. No disposable cups to be strewn everywhere. Instead they had mugs, which volunteers washed after disgusting slobbery sweaty runners used them. I’ll admit I did not always actually put in the effort to get a clean mug, I’d just grab the first available one sitting around, but I haven’t died yet. I’ll report back.

More slot canyon!

So in terms of food, I had bacon, peanut butter, avocado, pickles, skippy pb bites, and Blue Diamond coconut dusted almonds (mixed with the pb bites, I know, I’m a genius). And those Justin’s packets of almond butter. And I carried a bunch of Reese’s and Sour Patch Watermelon in case I wanted candy but I didn’t touch them at all. I had a friend who had a shirt that said “I only run so I can eat more chocolate cake.” Well, I only run so I can eat excessive amounts of peanut butter (or almond butter). Interestingly, I learned that fat is much easier on the stomach during long distances, so if you’re doing a serious ultra (50+ miles) it’s best to stay away from the straight sugar for as long as you can.

And MORE slot canyon!!!

We continued on past the Waterholes aid station, where you immediately scramble (almost class 3 ish, there were a few butt-scoot moves) down into a slot canyon. This section blew my mind. I laughed and told the people behind me (including Kimberly, who I would meet again later) that they should go first because I was stopping to take photos, but they all agreed with my touristy approach and we basically stumbled around corners ooh-ing and ahh-ing and wow-ing because the canyon looks completely different depending on how the sun hits the walls and how tall the walls are and it’s like exploring a fort as a kid. And it just keeps going!! It’ll mellow out and you think it’s over and then the walls heighten and narrow again and you’re right back in it! Ahhh! There were a few scrambley moves to get out of the canyon (MANTLE), and a ladder (YES! I thought this was only in the 50M but the 55k gets a pretty sweet canyon too!) to climb up at one point. I excitedly ran up and snapped a picture of Kimberly at the top right as she announced “I hate ladders.” Could have just stemmed it?

Savor the canyon, because the next like 5-6 miles are the most boring miles of the entire thing. You are on a gradual downhill on a sandy utility road. Okay, the sand was firm so that’s not too bad. But you run in this straight line for an eternity, surrounded by fascinating man made wonders like these power lines, this blank billboard, and this abandoned shipping container, all with the breathtaking power plant as a backdrop. Don’t worry, it’s still pretty damn beautiful.

Desert towers

We rolled into the Horseshoe Bend aid station for the second time, where we were finally mixing with the 50m and 100m runners. We’d cheer for them as they ran by us (opposite directions) and made our baby ultra feel like a stroll through the park compared to their distances. I met Kim and Randi during this stretch who sounded like they knew what they were doing and we cruised to the Slickrock aid station where Jason invited me to join their group and I said hell yes. He and Randi had won free entries to this race in a giveaway like 2 weeks prior, and were just winging it like I was (though my story isn’t as awesome). So I tagged along with them through the next few miles, happy to have chatty company and other impulsive people who woke up one day and thought a 55k sounded like a great idea. Kim changed his shoes at the Paige Rim aid station giving me enough time to eat half my weight in peanut M&Ms and soon enough we were milking the slow jog once again. Randi had set my expectations for the Paige Rim trail nice and low, so I was pleasantly surprised at the scenery. At least on the first half.

Cruising along the Paige Rim Trail

The first half of the Page Rim trail (going counterclockwise from the Paige Rim aid station) is a mostly flat single track dusty red trail with huge views since you’re on the edge of the plateau. Lake Powell is shockingly blue especially against the red rock, and holy crap it was so much more fun to run with people than to run alone. Turns out plenty of people run these races to chat and pull together a random group. I gotta do trail races more frequently, they’re just such a blast. No one wanted to chat during the Seattle marathon. Time flew by and the Lake Powell aid station came up quickly, at least if you ignore that it’s a .2mi out and back where you basically hike up a dune. But from that aid station, there were only 7 miles left! And who walked up to the aid station but Kimberly, the woman I had met in the slot canyon! She had made a new friend (Dave) as well, and I decided I’d tag along with them for the last section.

Lake Powell in the background

Kimberly was feeling great on her first ultra, and Dave was a far more experienced ultrarunner who just wasn’t having a hot day, so he became our fearless leader. Mama duck. He was alternating between jogging 1km and walking 200m, so we did the same. I had no idea what time it was or how long it had been, all I knew is I felt great and was having a blast and I was so lucky to find two groups for the second half of the race. So we walk-ran the last few miles, which skirted through the town of Paige. Backyards, crossing main roads, it’s still a cool trail it’s just not in the middle of nowhere. The first and second place runners in the 100M had caught up to us (they had a 1hr head start and a 16mile out-and-back and THEN started on our course) which was amazing. So basically their pace for the 100M was faster than mine for the 55k. Ridiculous.

Three happy finishers!!

We barely stopped when we hit the Paige Rim aid station again, since it’s only another like 0.7 miles to the finish line. I was like guys we’re all crossing the finish line together. I had made up my mind miles ago. Kimberly and I doing our first ultras and Dave leading the newbies, it was too exciting. So we all held hands and cheered and hugged as we crossed, and it was totally awesome. Easily one of the best race finishes I’ve ever had. I picked up my finisher’s mug (yes!!! MUGS!) and found a chair to go sit in, and a few minutes later Jason crossed the finish line followed by Randi and Kim! Jason came over to sit and we shouted at Randi and Kim to move their chairs over to us. Jason whipped a toothbrush out of his pack lamented the lack of toothpaste – apparently brushing your teeth is an incredible feeling during ultras, especially at the longer distances. I’ll make sure to pack a toothbrush when I do a 50m.

I texted Sean and Stacey to see if they could pick me up. I figured I’d until 3 and run home if they hadn’t responded (we had been joking about that for the past day, so it would have been fitting). But they responded just before my decision making time, and came to the finish line to celebrate! I have not done many races with people. Besides Moab with my father, I usually uber to the Seattle marathon starting line, uber home, I drove to Champaign IL for a road marathon once, I solo camped before a trail race in WI once… I’m usually solo, and make friends during the race. But I gotta say it’s pretty freaking awesome having people with you to hang out post race as well.

WHERE WERE YOU**

We spent the rest of the night being support crew for Sonja, who was chugging along in the 100 miler. Guys, I learned SO MUCH in 48 hours. About running, about ultras, about hydration and eating and pacing and training, everything. But one of the coolest parts was learning to be crew for someone else. It isn’t as easy as it sounds. You need to predict what they might need. Do they need salt? What foods might they like that they didn’t bring? Did they have any hotspots or something that might need to be taken care of next time we see them? What’s their pace, how long do we have to nap before getting to the aid station, how much buffer time do they have, do they need more layers because it’s cold? I don’t think we really got dialed until the wee hours of the morning. My favorite part was that we were trying to figure out who would pace the last few laps, and Karen offered to do all of it. “But then you’d be running 45 straight miles!” She nonchalantly responded. “Yeah, why not?” Some people’s baseline fitness is a 3mi run whenever they feel like it. Some people can do a half marathon with 24hrs notice. Some can do marathons. And some…. apparently, some can do casual ultras as long as they have enough time for a sandwich and some fritos.

Canyon rim running

Guys, this was an amazing weekend. 1) Give an ultra a chance if you’ve done marathons and want a little more. The 55k really isn’t that much different than a marathon, and trail is way easier on the legs than road. I’d still argue that my road marathons have ALL been harder and more painful than this was. 2) Go to Antelope Canyon. It’s freaking beautiful. 3) Stop waiting on others. Get out of your comfort zone. It doesn’t always work, but sometimes it pays off in the best way possible.

People I have to thank: Stacey (chauffeur extraordinaire) and Karen (nothing is impossible) and Sean (also saved me from airplane dehydration) for being an awesome support team and welcoming me into their little Sonja Support Squad. Dave, our fearless leader for the last 7 miles. Kimberly, the star of that awesome ladder photo who laughed at my dumb jokes while Dave taught us how to run an ultra for the last few miles. Jason, Kim, and Randi (and a few others whose names I didn’t catch) who let me join their group from mile 17ish until mile 27. Wendy’s friend/husband (never caught his name, but he often shouted back to Wendy) for wandering the desert with me seeking out blazes in the distance and letting me tell him where to stand for a good rim picture. The owners of that VRBO who had like 30 USB chargers in each outlet (amazing) and costco size spice jars for cooking and get this – matching(!!!) pots and pans with lids. And most of all, thank you to Sonja, for being so welcoming of an internet stranger and being the one key factor that made this trip such a success for me.

One more along the canyon rim

All in all, I couldn’t have asked for a better trip. We even got a pair of seats on the flight home, and though the flight felt longer than the flight to Vegas I was glad to have company. Oh, and at the airport on the way home, What’s New Pussycat was playing at the baggage check. I almost cried laughing. I’m still not sure why that song exists. But I’m glad that it does.

*The beginning of the 50M and 100M take you straight up the plateau next to the starting line. Who needs a warm up? Have fun climbing!

**At first I said “WHERE WERE YOU HELPFUL SIGNS WHEN I NEEDED YOU IN THE DESERT” but in reality I’d have needed a freaking fence line of these signs to help me navigate that section, yikes.

Wendy’s dude cooperating with some random chick’s demands to “stand over there, no, more left, I need you for scale”

Union & Jove Peaks Ski Tour

Posted on February 20, 2018 by evejakubowski

JT with Union in the background

Another beautiful sunny day, another almost-too-mellow ski tour. I got up at 5:29 to beat everyone to the bathroom before our 5:30 alarm went off, turned on all the lights, and stomped around enough that the others grumbled and got moving. We kind of had “meh” feelings about our objective, but I couldn’t convinced anyone on the badassery of the the Chiwaukums and we were feeling sorta lazy anyway. And Arrowhead and Tye Peaks seemed underwhelming after Rock Mountain the prior day. So we had a twofer, Uion & Jove Peaks, dug up from the OG hike list I pulled together when I first moved here. Skied 2/11/2018.

Distance: 10 miles round trip
Elevation Gain: 4,000ft of gain (Jove is 6,007ft, Union is 5,696ft)
Weather: 30’s and sunny
Commute from Seattle: 2hours (~7 hours on the way back)
Did I Trip: No trips but plenty of postholing/ski wipeouts/falling and getting skis stuck/you know how it is in the backcountry
GPX: Basically this from Peakbagger

Our trip the prior day, Mastiff and Rock Mountain

We schlepped our asses out of the hotel around 6:15am since it was only a short drive to Stevens Pass. We looked up quick breakfast options and no diners were open, which was totally okay with me because I just want to grab some almonds and hit the trails. I am not a patient person especially when it comes to a rare sunny winter day. We settled for a gas station with the worst tea selection in the state of Washington, but it’s kind of unfair for me to expect gas stations to really crush the tea game. Though I hear they also had no snickers bars, which is an egregious oversight.

We reached Smithbrook Road around 8 and started skinning. Or I started skinning, because my extremities were already MIA and why be uncomfortable when you can start walking and just… not be uncomfortable? Usually it’s only a problem ice climbing or rock climbing in the cold, but this winter I have found myself very prone to the “screaming barfies,” even at silly places like ski resorts and trailheads. The screamin’ barfies are when your hands are numb and the circulation finally returns (which is why it’s common ice climbing) and it’s nauseatingly painful, so you want to scream and barf simultaneously and maybe cry a bit too. So I am slowly trying to figure out how to mediate that. For what it’s worth, I have yet to actually vomit.

Why go around when you could go up?

We knew we had a lovely 2.7ish miles of road (ughhhhh) before the turn off. I figured since snow was so consolidated, we’d get to the hairpin turn where you take off for Lake Valhalla/Mt McCausland and head straight up through the trees to hit the ridge to Union. The alternative, a more mellow but longer route, is to follow the road to the hairpin on the east end, and gain the ridge from there, effectively paralleling the road all the way back to that first switchback where we left.

Walking the ridge to Union’s summit

Once in the trees, it was apparent pretty quickly that we’d be faster and happier booting it instead of trying to skin what was basically ice. We made quick work up to the ridge (honestly the toughest part of the whole day), snow getting softer as soon as we broke into the sun. We had snacks and met up with Kristen and Robert, who decided they’d chill on Union Peak while JT and I ran over to Jove. I mean, look at that south face. Bulletproof snowpack, plenty of time, and an estimated 1,400ft of vertical on a mostly open slope that would hopefully be spring corn by the time we reached it.

Looking along the ridge to Jove

So we turned on some music (sorry WHC, but no one else was up there so… something about a tree falling and no one being there to hear it so did it even actually make noise?) and followed the broad, mellow ridge to the true summit of Union, where we skied some low angle runnels, which was good practice for me. Unfortunately we had not quite made it to the ridge, and we could either walk back up to the summit to go further west or downclimb a steep frozen gully. We started downclimbing until I realized we were making this unnecessarily difficult, so we bailed on the gulley and walked up and over Union and found the correct ridge, which is a very mellow easy walk. We quickly dropped down to saddle and started regaining elevation up the ridge up to Jove’s summit.

Monte Cristos, Sloan, Pugh, and White Chuck from Jove’s summit

The ridge is forested on the west but open on the southeast, so you get little glimpses of the terrain around you as you weave through the trees and we got more and more excited with every step towards the top. I freaking love these days. It’s a playground for adults and there I was chasing JT up through the trees so we could play in the snow and work doesn’t matter and money doesn’t matter and whatever was stressing you out was left at the parking lot because the only thing that matters is right now and look where we are. I started debating whether I’d try to ski the south face or not. On one hand, it doesn’t look that steep. On the other hand, it’s not worth wiping out here. I could just boot back town the ridge and meet JT at the saddle. But that’s lame, and then you carried these skis here for nothing. As usual. Fuck it, let’s just try it. Worst case you pop em off and walk to where you can ski again. And spring corn is basically a groomer. You’ll be fine.

Living the dream, baby!

We got to the summit and had a quick snack break. I took some of JT’s water because mine was buried and I was too lazy to dig it out of my pack. We snapped a bunch of pictures and I booted down to where I wanted to get a pic of JT, who dropped in to ski first. After snapping a few dope photos, I clicked into my own skis, got in a few wobbly turns, and then the snow turned from soft corn to crust. And I got spooked. I stopped and stood and deliberated for a few minutes before booting it to what I thought was more mellow terrain, but turned out to just be icier terrain. Welp, classic Eve trip, just no one was there to get pictures of me carrying my skis.

Heading back up to Union

Luckily, crust meant it was easy to boot down, and it didn’t take too long to get to the mellow terrain that (albeit still icy) was skiiable for me. I put the skis back on and caught up (down?) to JT and we trekked back up to Union where Robert and Kristen were waiting. The ~400ft elevation loss from Union to the saddle is really not bad at all, and we were back on Union’s summit much more quickly than I expected.

We followed the ridge back east to where we had met it, but instead of dropping down into the trees, we went slightly further east and dropped directly to the road. The snow was soft but the slope is covered in trees and I’m a wimp so I booted it (again) and then flipped the skis horizontally on my pack (stop judging me) to glissade the rest of the way. Yeah it’s ridiculous but you know what it’s faster and easier than postholing even if I look absurd. And someday I’ll be a real skiier and it’ll be even more hilarious telling the epics of how I learned to ski.*

Looking back at the gullies on Union

The road back was a miserable ski. Totally chewed up by snowmobiles and skis and snowshoes and people postholing and then completely frozen over. I ended up just walking that too, while Kristen (yay!) kept me company and we let the guys have dude time doing whatever dudes do. We made it back within daylight (dammit, should have tagged Lichtenberg too) only to hit terrible-average-0.5-mph style traffic on highway 2. Eventually we just drove in the left lane since we were like a quarter mile from Mountain View Diner, but it was supposed to take us 9 minutes or something outrageous like that. Mountain View Diner was once again out of Banana Cream Pie (I’ve heard so much about it) so we settled for a dreamy slice of Peanut Butter Chocolate Mousse pie. And tea. So much tea. Really redeemed my tea game that day after the gas station fail that morning.

JT and Kristen excited to ski off the ridge

This weekend started with low expectations (late start, plan B peaks, I still can’t ski, blah blah blah) and blew every hope I had totally out of the water. Union and Jove are an awesome duo for a sunny day, and that southeast face of Jove is a spectacular ski. If only we had waited for it to soften up a bit more. With the right conditions, it’s also very quick travel to get there, despite the mind numbing 2.7 miles of Smithbrook Road. Bring a snowmobile. I swear those miles are worth it. You could also add on McCausland and Lichtenberg on the way back and pop out closer to the highway saving you some miles of forest road. Or you could go further north and traverse over to Labyrinth peak, which would make it a sweet full day trip or maybe even a solid overnight. Union & Jove alone are like a half day trip, we failed to utilize all of the hours of daylight so I’d recommend adding a bit more terrain to your plan. So many ideas so few sunny weekends!

JT and Robert heading back along Union’s ridge

*Or how I didn’t learn to ski, because really you should get good in resorts before going to backcountry. You don’t learn to ski efficiently when you boot for hours just for a couple hundred feet of vert.

Rock Mountain Ski Tour

Posted on February 12, 2018 by evejakubowski

JT coming up the final ridge

The first mellow ridge

Also known as “A Great Reminder That I Don’t Actually Know How To Ski.” But eff it, I’m sure as hell gonna try. Day one of a two-day Stevens Pass extravaganza, we bailed on our Plan A (late start, questionable forest road conditions) and drove towards Stevens Pass from Leavenworth trying to brainstorm ideas that didn’t involve 3 miles of road walking. And then Robert and JT spotted a peak off the highway. “What is that? What peak is that? Look up what that is. We should go up to that bowl. LOOK at that white skiiable bowl.” “Uhhhh I think that’s Rock Mountain. Yeah we could do Rock Mountain, it’s part of a good ski traverse.” I groaned because I had done Rock Mountain in fall and wasn’t feeling particularly motivated to go back. But it’s supposed to be a good ski. “Is there a road walk?” “Maybe like a quarter mile of road?” “But look at that snow up there. So many lines.” “We could even bag extra peaks on the traverse!” “Guys should we do Rock Mountain? Guys look at that white bowl up high.” “Where’s the trailhead? That’s the trailhead!?” “Yep no WAIT AHH TURN AROUND we’re doing Rock Mountain.” And so, we skiied Rock Mountain on 2/10/2018.

Distance: 11mi round trip
Elevation gain: 4,175ft (6,800 highest point)
Weather: 30’s and sunny
Commute from Seattle: 2:00 if you don’t take 520 because you’re cheap
Did I Trip: Wiped out skiing, postholed a bunch. The usual. I don’t think JT wiped out a single time. Also the usual.
GPX: Roughly this from peakbagger

Where’s Waldo? Rob fights through trees

We got started up just after 9am. The road was skinnable (the road is like a 15 minute section, not even) but once you hit the turn off for the real trail we had to pack the skis because the snow was patchy and thin and still mostly frozen, especially in the trees. This was okay with me, because you know how good I am at skiing (not good). Guys I’m going to warn you now that there are way more photos than words in this blog post, because I couldn’t stop taking pictures. It was. Freaking. Gorgeous.

Skinning towards the false summit

It’s February, right? I thought we’d be freezing so I started out in a puffy, a sweater, and an expedidtion weight baselayer. Within the first hour we stopped probably three times to delayer. It was a casual day and JT and I had not paid attention to layers and I was sweating balls within a half hour. “Be Bold Start Cold” only applies on serious trips. I’m going for comfort on mellow days. I will start warm and de layer as necessary. Robert, on the other hand, totally nailed it and I don’t think changed even once.

Rime!

Arrowhead Mountain looked enormous across the highway as we gained elevation through sparse trees. Man, we should do that one someday. That’s the best part of starting near the passes, you start high and often don’t have to spend much time in the forest. Alternatively, you can do a hike off highway 20, where you’ll gain like 4,000ft of elevation before breaking above the trees. Yuck.

Another group breaking trail

I wouldn’t tell Robert or JT how far we were the first few times I checked the map, because we were making hilariously slow progress. To the point where I wasn’t sure we’d make the summit. The first 2,200ft of elevation gain are straight up in the first ~1 mile or so, and then you break out onto a narrow but mellow southeast ridge winding between trees with sneak peeks of the false and true summits of Rock Mountain and Mount Mastiff. The texture of the surrounding ridgelines with cornices and steep fluted snow through trees was unreal. You could see an old slab avalanche crown, and debris where cornices had collapsed in the bowls in the distance. The snow up here was an inch of windblown powder sparkling on top of crust, and it was easy skinning as we broke above tree line and realized just how close to the summit we actually were.

Robert skirting cornices and rime-frosted bushes along the final ridge

Looking back at the true summit from the ridge

I go crazy once we’re above tree line. Below the trees I’m steady, maybe even slow and ~~bitchy~~ grumpy. But then we break out into the alpine and everything is right with the world and everything is beautiful and look where we are and everything is amazing and that’s how this was. I wanted to touch everything. Run everywhere. I wanted to traverse the whole ridge. You can traverse over to Mastiff and Howard and oh man we should have gone faster through the forest we could totally tag all of these or what if we had camped up here what were we thinking!! But we wanted to be back down in time to meet Kristen for Saturday dinner and Sunday adventure, so we just focused on Rock Mountain. And remember Arrowhead Mountain looking so imposing on the way up? Now we were looking down on it.

Glacier Peak looking like its glaciers aren’t dying

We skinned up mellow rolling hills gazing up an an east-oriented ridge that would take us to the final south ridge to the summit. I thought I remembered that what we were looking at was actually the false summit but didn’t say anything until we were already on our way up it. The trees were covered in rime ice and the hoar frost was sparkling and the varying snow textures against blue sky were just outrageous. JT skiied back down to Robert to see if he wanted to summit (yes, with a disclaimer of “but everything hurts and I hate this sport and whose idea was this”) and we took off for the final ridge. I was bummed to not be the ones breaking trail up through the pristine snow, but it was nice to save some energy for the miserable posthole down. I stashed the skis knowing I had no chance of skiing the steeper snow still icy in the shade, plus everyone was booting up anyway so there was already a staircase built into the face. “Eve, you forgot something!” Rob shouted up to me. “You wanna carry them up here?!” I laughed. He wasn’t gonna bring them up. And if he did, I’d just insist on a classic Eve shot of me carrying my skis down instead of the other way around.

Looking NW at Mastiff and Howard

We crested the south ridge and gazed along cornices to the true summit. I jogged to catch up with JT after snapping a few pictures of the otherworldly rime-covered bushes dotting the southwest face of the ridge. Some of the cornices were cracking, but they weren’t huge and the snow had been bulletproof thus far. I did punch through into a sneaky tree well (bush well?) on my way along the ridge, happily jogging until BAM facedown, dumbass. It’s amazing how this was such an easy, normal hike in the fall, yet in winter it turns into a beautiful fluted alpine-feeling objective. We reached the summit and I took 5.62486*10^11 photos of our surroundings. Panoramextravaganza Part II, I didn’t know which direction would make the best pano and obviously none of the photos will ever do it justice. But after months of being cooped up inside, running in the rain, skiing at resorts, driving all the way to the Yakima grasslansd and canyons for sunshine… oh man, days like this make it all worth it. Why do we do it!? For the views!

The other party on their way down

We high fived, had snacks, someone peed off the top (hint: not me), and JT clicked into his skis to practice his rime technique while Rob and I booted back to the false summit. We lamented the addiction to mountaineering, skiing, climbing, the alpine, whatever you want to call it. I love every second of it and was on top of the world. But that’s not always how it is. Sometimes you’re getting out because you have to, not because you’re loving it. But this weekend for me was like a Ruth’s Chris steak dinner. Every piece was delicious and I want to relive every second.

I booted partway down the slope to get sweet pics of my more capable friends, Rob set up his splitboard in under an hour which was a new splitboard transition world record, and we were off! Or, they were off. I got dope photos, walked back to my skis, and skiied the like 4 degree incline back to the ridge where I immediately got spooked by the double-sided-drop and trees. I can dodge a drop, I can dodge trees, but dodging trees AND a drop…. ahhh that’s asking a lot. So instead, I chose postholes and shin bruises and glissading like a boss.

Robert boarding down below Rock Peak

JT on the low ridge, Chiwaukums back left

And by glissading like a “boss,” I mean “~~pathetic~~ endearing nerd trying to keep up with the cool kids.” I didn’t get too far behind, turns out JT and Robert are patient people which I appreciate. We made it back to the car in around 2.5 hours (took us 5 hours car to summit). JT skiied all the way back to the highway. Robert boarded until maybe the last 800 vertical feet. Like I said, I postholed, stumbled, jogged, and eventually gave up and strapped my skis horizontally on my pack and used my ass to transport me the rest of the way down managing to not clothesline anyone (or myself) with my horizontal skis.

Cornices and shadows in front of the Chiwaukums

Rock Mountain is an amazing ski. You gotta get up there. Snowshoers supposedly do it too, but the only snowshoe tracks we saw only made it like 1,000ft up before bailing. It’s really not that bad especially if the snow is crisp in the morning and you can boot up quickly, I imagine it’s more of a pain in the ass when it’s soft. But wow, we’ll definitely be back to this area. I want to get the full traverse. JT and Robert want to ski/board the steeper gullies leading back to the road. JT could ski through those rime-wrapped bushes on the west face of the south ridge, ahhh. It’s a playground for adults. You could camp up there and just do laps in that bowl all day.

Share what you live for, right? Well I live for days like these. I’ll holy out through ~~months~~ weeks of rain for one weekend like this. Doesn’t matter that I can’t ski it all yet, I’ll get there. And in the meantime, I’ll take pictures of my bad ass friends doing bad ass things. Awesome day, guys. Can’t wait to go back for the rest of that traverse. And for those Chiwaukums taunting us in the background.

One more of that freaking ridiculous ridge. Chiwaukums back left, Stuart just barely peeking out behind them.

Yakima Skyline & Umtanum Falls

Posted on February 9, 2018 by evejakubowski

Walking near the “summit” of the Yakima Skyline

2 people, 4 knees, 3 MCLs. This trek was deemed Operation DUSTAFUBK, short for Drive Until Sunny and Try to Avoid Fucking Up Brad’s Knee. The B is silent. Brad tore his MCL skiing a few weeks ago, but was going too stir crazy to care, so we found ourselves at the Eastgate Park n Ride at 6am on Saturday. Originally Surafel was joining us, but we received a 3am message that he was in the ER, and no, this would not be like last time where he got an IV and joined us a few hours later, good as ever.

Distance: ~9 miles for Yakima Skyline to Gracie’s point and back, 3 miles for Umtanum Falls
Elevation gain: ~2700 between the two hikes
Weather: 60’s and sunny
Commute from Seattle: 2:45 with no traffic
Did I Trip: On Yakima Skyline, no. But Umtanum Falls made up for my graceful past few months with 1.67*10^198 trips, slips, skateboard slides, wipeouts, and assplants.

Another hiking party ahead of us

We started driving. I made Brad drive because I’m an asshole my car either has a gas leak, or is a liar and the broken gas gauge is making the check engine light turn on.* The car was packed for just about every mountain activity, we pulled up a few options and figured we’d drive until the weather was acceptable. The pass was 48 and rainy. Ew. Keep driving. Cle Elum was fake sunny where the weather says sunny but actually it’s overcast and hazy. Keep driving. Wait, stop at the only gas station with no snacks in the entirety of Cle Elum first and use the slowest gas pump known to man. Okay, now stop at a gas station with snacks and a faster gas pump. Okay now keep driving. No snow left? Okay, so I guess we’ll just hike. To Yakima!

Brad with Yakima in the background

The last time I hiked out by Yakima I was amazed at the sun and the air smelling like sage and the rolling yellow hills. Well, the sage is all dead, so that sucks, but the sky was still blue and the hills were still rolling and yellow and it was around 60 degrees, so it basically felt like May. We chose Yakima Ridge, a mellow hike that is host to a 50k race in early spring, and wow I can see why.

The trail gains elevation slowly but steadily up to the “summit” about two miles in, where you can drop down behind the ridge to continue on to Gracie’s Point. The trail splits around 3 miles in and you can either follow it to a 4×4 road (supposedly, didn’t look like much of a road to us) that wraps a bit west and tours the grassy knolls, or you can stay right which keeps you closer to the ridge. Instead of heading straight up Gracie’s Point the trail wraps around to the north side before following a series of fence poles to the top, where we took a long break to destroy some Wisconsin cheese curds and summer sausage and (in my case) excessive amounts of peanut butter.

Looking behind us

We had taken the 4×4 road up, so we took the ridge trail back. Rainier and Adams looked incredible when we started hiking, but Adams was slowly swallowed by low clouds rising to meet a growing lenticular, and Rainier was gradually engulfed in dark mist and an angry wall of weather. Sweet, keep reaffirming that we made the right choice. We took a short break at the car to enjoy the sun, and decided what the hell, we’d keep driving to check out one of our other hike ideas.

Dead sage

Our other hike idea appeared to be on private property. The gate was covered in maps and a sign for Discover passes and a sign reminding everyone to close the gate behind them, but it also had a sign that said “no public access.” So we kept driving. We found a dirt road that I realized would bring us all the way around Umtanum Ridge and back to the north end of Yakima Canyon road, so we took it! And halfway down that road, we found a perfect 2 mile round trip hike to Umtanum Falls. Great idea!!

Wildlife!! (Photo credit Brad)

Well, the hike was completely iced over, and yours truly had only brought sneakers and mountaineering boots. And I left the boots in the car. So I was in my 2012 running shoes, which it turns out are mediocre at best on ice. So we slipped and slided all along the trail, finding game trails and social trails higher on the slopes to avoid the icy ground next to the river. Longest. Mile. Ever. Luckily everyone else was a dumbass like me and only had sneakers, so I fit right in. We made it to the falls, Brad went around to face the waterfall and I waited at the top. I had expected it to be a hike where you walk up to the bottom of the falls and are staring right at it, but you’re actually at the top looking down on it, with the option of scrambling down to the base. I stood, wiped out while standing, and waited for disasters to happen while Brad and two other hikers checked out the view facing the falls. I think SAR has ruined my invincibility.

My view of Umtanum Falls

We made it back to the car well before dark without any further wipeouts (I think, if I remember correctly) and finished our rogue lap around Umtanum Ridge. The drive back over the pass was still a gross 48 degrees and pouring rain. I saw I think two people on the Snoqualmie slopes. Props to you guys. I cannot imagine this has been a good year for the ski resorts.

Brad’s view of the falls (photo credit Brad)

So I have slowly been expanding my list of sunny places, and Yakima Skyline is an easy hike even for wobbly knees if you need an escape. I hear the wildflowers in spring are fantastic too, though we aren’t quite there yet. I’ll have to check our Selah Butte when those flowers finally spring up, though – it’s across the canyon from Yakima Skyline, so instead of staring at those freaking cell towers the whole time you’re under the cell towers and can pretend they don’t exist.

*Check engine light has since turned off so… problem solved? If you ignore your problems they go away right?

Dungeness Spit

Posted on February 6, 2018 by evejakubowski

Is it still driftwood if it’s an entire tree?

Blue sky and salt air!!

So this is the weekend I discovered the mystical Rain Shadow. I had heard rumors, myths, old wives’ tales. Dreams, perhaps. “Seattle is in a rain shadow.” “Port Angeles is in a rain shadow.” “The Olympics create a rain shadow.” Well shit, if we’re in a fucking rain shadow then I don’t want to know what it’s like OUTSIDE of the rain shadow because the sun already basically doesn’t rise at all and I’m sick of all of my running clothes being damp all the time and SAR tarps take up too much space in my trunk. But it turns out there’s a deeper part of the rain shadow, where precipitation levels are low and the clouds open in a small circle to allow a brief respite from the PNW winter. You can almost pretend it’s summer. Oh, and I can only assume it’s the same patch of sun that so often taunts us Seattlites from across the sound from 4:10-4:30 most afternoons. That cloud patch is a bastard.

Distance: 11 miles round trip (I’m not convinced this is true)
Elevation Gain: 0. You drop like 130ft in the beginning but that’s it.
Weather: 50’s and wicked windy
Commute from Seattle: 2:30 without traffic and assuming punctual ferries
Did I Trip: No! sorry to disappoint.

Root ball driftwood

The forecast called for rain. Everywhere. Seattle proper, Leavenworth, Yakima, ski resorts. Rain. Rain at 5,500ft. It’s like Nightmare at 20,000 Feet, except with more precipitation and fewer gremlins and you’re on a snow slope not in a plane. But the forecast for Dungeness Spit…. “mostly cloudy.” Okay, we’ll take our chances. I had never been there and it was on what I call my OG Hike List, the hike list I pulled together when I first moved to Washington and didn’t know anything about hiking or backpacking, nevermind mountaineering and skiing and climbing. So I whined about not skiing (I think Lucy and Andy didn’t want to ski circles around me for the second weekend in a row), but relented and agreed to go west, counterintuitively seeking sunshine towards the Olympic Coast.

Driftwood and sea foam

And oh boy did we find sunshine. And like 40mph winds, but sun!! Who cares about the wind! I was wearing Arc’teryx head to toe as if I was on a glacier, the wind is my bitch! We left at a leisurely 9am, since I showed up at Andy’s only to be let in by Lucy because Andy hadn’t even woken up yet. We dragged his ass out of bed (he actually got ready impressively quickly) and arrived at the trailhead to start hiking (okay, walking) around noon.

It was like the whole world had chosen Dungeness Spit that day. Ages 0 to 80, everything from shorts and sneakers to yours truly. It was just past high tide, so we knew the way out might be slow (lots of rock-and-log-hopping) but we’d have flat firm sand to walk on for the trek back. The waves were awesome and the water was a surprising shade of glassy greenish blue (I’m used to brown, especially on choppy days). The wind was whipping, but it was coming from diagonally behind us, so while we eventually forgot how to walk in straight line due to fighting the wind for so long, it was manageable. And you’re slightly crooked the whole way because the ground is just the tiniest bit sloped. But I forgot how incredible salt air smells. Ah, my soul. Breathe it in, baby.

Spot the sanderling! (a bird)

The walk is exactly what you would expect. A long walk on a beach. No surprises here. Some neat driftwood, some endangered birds, some seagulls, some sand pipers (adorable!). Supposedly there is a lone coyote out there somewhere, not sure how long he’ll last. As with mountains, we got a glimpse of our final destination (the lighthouse) long before we were really close. It’s deceptive, you think you must be 15min away and actually you’re still a solid hour away. Sucker! Keep walking. Pick up some cool rocks. Take pictures of driftwood. Trip over yourself in the wind. Most people seemed to turn around a mile our, which meant we basically had the whole spit to ourselves, which was an unexpected surprise.

The lighthouse!

We got to the lighthouse where the volunteers were nice enough to let us have an indoor picnic to escape the wind. We toured the top of the lighthouse and learned a bit about its history. The woman who showed us around was from Victoria, and the lighthouse was always her “signal” that she was going home when she was on the ferry, so now she’s a volunteer to help maintain it. The volunteer association actually rents it from the Coast Guard for $1/year (as in one dollar a year) to prevent it from being torn down. I donated 5 years of rent. I’m rich. Or 1/4 of a picture frame, or a 40-pack of trash bags, depends how you look at it.*

Looking back from the lighthouse

We immediately dumped our rock collections on the floor like children excitedly comparing their hoards. We had stocked up on deli meat to go with the 5lbs of Beecher’s cheddar Andy had brought, and we had a feast. They have a well that you can use for water that is supposedly delicious, but we had brought like 3L of water each and had no room for new water. They had a picture book to help identify birds, where I figured out what little guy I had snapped a photo of a few hours prior!

Enjoying the shallows

We finally ventured back out to brave the wind, and it was a surprisingly quick walk back to the car since the tide had receded and we had flat, firm sand to walk along. The fact that Andy’s backpack of rocks weighed about 50lbs did not slow us down. The sun stayed out just long enough for us to reach the forest, and we got some “Jesus Rays” towards the end as well, where the sun streams through the clouds and it looks like every religious picture you’ve ever seen. Nothing like some Jesus Rays and salt spray on your face to refresh you in the darkness of the Seattle winter.

Andy and Lucy enjoying the walk back

We hit up Propolis Brewing in Port Angeles on the way home, a recently-up-and-coming brewery which had impressively good ales (and a huge flight!) but nothing to really do with propolis like I had hoped. And then I had my first Dick’s experience, which despite living in Seattle for 3+ years now I had never tried. So I had my first bag of Dick’s. I don’t know, the prices are impressive and it gives endless opportunities for hilarity but when it comes down to it I think I’ll take a Big Mac or a Baconator (extra mayo).

Jesus rays!

So if you need an escape, check out the weather around Dungeness Spit. If it’s sunny, it’s worth the drive. And I bet in warmer weather you can even swim! OH AND THE FERRY HAD PUZZLES! How could I forget to mention that?! It was delayed 40min and I was so grumpy and then we walked upstairs and did a kitten puzzle and I swear to god it was like as soon as I sat down the ferry ride ended and then I was mad we didn’t have more time. And now we have routine puzzle nights. Well we had one, but I’m going to pester everyone until they’re routine.**

*But actually, you should donate. It’s literally just a group of people volunteering at the lighthouse because they like it, and it’s a neat little piece of history that I hope sticks around. Sometimes the tide gets so high during storms that they’re cut off from land for a few days. I’m drinking the kool aid, the woman who showed us around just genuinely loved the place and it was totally contagious.

**Our completion rate is low. But I don’t have enough samples to confirm we’re bad at puzzles yet.

Excelsior Peak Snowshoe

Posted on January 29, 2018 by evejakubowski

Baker from halfway up Excelsior Peak. You can see two tiny people on the knoll below.

Healthy green forest!

Remember that post about demoting yourself from Plan A to Plan B to Plan C to “eff it Uber please bring me mac n cheese” a few weeks ago? Sometimes the opposite happens. You have a plan, and it’s an okay plan (doesn’t matter what level it is), and then it just completely surpasses all of the expectations you had for it. That’s how this day was. Hiked January 14th, 2018.

Trailbreaking pro

Distance: 9 miles round trip
Elevation: 3500ft gain (5700 highest point)
Weather: 50’s and sunny
Commute from Seattle: 2:30 without traffic
Did I Trip: Yes. Snowshoes and I do not mesh well. My snowshoe waddle is almost as hilarious as me trying to ski.

Surafel and I met at 5:30am, a little later than usual, and reached the trailhead around 8. We were debating how early we’d need snowshoes, and of course we get to the parking lot and there isn’t a hint of snow to be seen. Okay, so at least I’m confident in my choice to leave skis in the car. I expected crust, and if I was going to be lugging skis all the way up there just for 200ft of crusty turns, meh. We got glimpses of snow up high, but that was looking at north faces, which are shady in winter and we’d be hiking up the south side of the ridge. Crap. What if we didn’t even hit snow?! I strapped the snowshoes to my pack, he carried his in his hands, and we started up. The strikingly green forest was an interesting contrast to Hex Mountain, the previous trip, which was full of eerie black gothic needle-like trees trunks that had been left standing after last summer’s wildfire. Guess there’s a reason we’re the Evergreen state.*

But even the pros posthole. Builds character!

We delayered immediately because it was unseasonably warm and apparently I’m a sweaty person. 15min later, Surafel gave up and strapped his snowshoes to his pack. It was a good choice, because we didn’t hit snow for another solid 1,800ft of elevation gain. And when we did hit snow, being my usual stubborn self, we continued on in boots. No one had been up there yet and breaking trail is a fantastic workout and there’s just something so beautiful about laying the first set of tracks. Plus the postholing wasn’t too bad (shin to knee deep for the most part minus a few good thigh-deep-fall-on-your-face) and putting on snowshoes involves squatting for a while so it was easier to just break trail. It isn’t a real winter trip without some good postholes, it’ll just lack that feeling of struggle and accomplishment. “It feels like 2015” I remarked. “Don’t say that!” 2015 was a brutal dry year for the Cascades. Sitting here in the dark dreary misery two weeks later, I can attest that it no longer feels like 2015.

Breaking above the trees, loose wet slides in the distance

The route is very mellow and passes almost no avalanche terrain through the woods. The trail is loosely blazed with orange tape, which was helpful as well, though if you have a good trail nose you’ll be fine following it regardless. We finally broke above the trees, where we immediately encountered the nightmare that is breakable crust. You punch through thick rain crust which jabs your shins and your knees and it’s almost strong enough to stand on but not quite and we finally caved and put on snowshoes. You’re facing a true avalanche slope which had some nice loose wet point-release avalanches on it, but you can head right towards a patch of trees to avoid it entirely. The texture up here was totally cool, but I couldn’t capture it on camera. Fresh snow that immediately got rained on but hasn’t been touched by anyone so far develops very neat fine runnels, and the low sun reflecting off faraway glaciers makes everything in the background glisten.

Looking across the valley at Sefrit, Ruth, Icy, and Shuksan

Surafel coming around the trees

I cruised up to the ridge overlooking Baker and Shuksan, and backtracked towards Surafel to head up Excelsior. Surafel went up through the trees while I wrapped left around the tree patch (there’s plenty of space between you and the avy slope if you stay near or in the trees). I topped out on the shoulder below the true summit to wait and admire the views of Baker and Shuksan. What a freaking beautiful day.

Views of Church Mtn from the summit

I heard nothing but silence after a few minutes, so I started worrying. What if he was stuck in a tree well or something?! That had happened a few weeks prior, a friend fell into a tree well maybe 8ft behind me and I heard nothing despite his shouting. I yelled Surafel’s name, and heard “what?” from almost directly in front of me. He was blending in with the trees that sneaky bastard. He dropped his stuff to break out the good camera and snap pics while I ran up to tag the summit.

One more of Baker

Tomyhoi and Larrabee on point, if only Welcome Pass wasn’t in the way

The summit is listed as 5,699ft, which is annoying. Covered in snow I’m sure it’s more like 5,707ft or so, but for the sake of this post I rounded it off to a slightly less annoying 5,700ft. It ended in a massive cornice hanging off the north side, and with the lack of company I just snapped a few pics and plunge stepped back to our break spot where we enjoyed tea and cheese and salami and I had this bag of toasted coconut flakes that I had made that morning that I had been talking about for the entire hike. It was. So good. Which was a relief, because I had severely burned the first batch at 4am (it toasts so quickly!) and had frantically made a second batch to salvage my great hike snack idea. We marveled at the fact that we LIVE here, it’s only a two hour drive and a short hike to get to insane scenery like this. Scenery that most people will never see in their lives. Scenery that so many people don’t know exists. I didn’t know it existed until I moved here! Look where we are! We passed our contagious enthusiasm to a few other parties and reluctantly decided to head back down.

Looking back at Excelsior

The trail was completely hard packed. No snowshoes necessary. There weren’t that many people up there, maybe 12 or so (plus dogs, how many dogs equal one person?), and yet that was enough to basically bulldoze a sidewalk. The contrast between the way up and the way down was amazing, though it slightly ruins the adventure of being the only ones up there. I was glad we had the privilege of breaking trail and being the first ones up there. But for the way down, I didn’t even bother to put my snowshoes back on, I just booted it. There was one skiier, who I was jealous of since the sun had turned the morning’s brutal crust into nice spring corn (or slush, but still).

We were down in under two hours, much faster than I expected and I was a little sad when we got to the parking lot. It had been a long amazing day but I couldn’t help but think we should have spent more time up high and enjoyed the sun more. Those days are so few and far between in winter. There really is nothing more spectacular than a bluebird winter day, and this snowshoe had completely blown away any expectations I had set for it. Snowshoes might suck, but they can still take you to some pretty awesome places. Guys, I live here!!

The fruits of Surafel’s labor – the texture the previous day’s rain created on the snow was unreal

*If they name the NHL team “The Seattle Evergreens” I will send them a strongly worded letter. They should choose “The Seattle Firebirds.” What would our mascot be a freaking christmas tree? A spruce?!

Have Tent, Will Travel

Trail running, mountaineering, and the occasional wipeout