Mirror Lake

Posted on April 23, 2015 by evejakubowski

A very short entry for a very short hike. I had work at 2, but it looked like the streak of good weather was ending and I wanted to get out for the sake of enjoying the sun before the Seattle clouds came back. Mirror Lake, hiked 4/20/2015.

Distance: 3.3 miles (I went a bit down the PCT)
Elevation: 850ft gain
Weather: 60’s and sunny
Commute from Seattle: 1:30
Did I Trip: No!

Looking over the valley at Silver Peak

This hike had actually stumped me back in October. I couldn’t find the trailhead. Too many logging roads, no signs, unreliable GPS (“pull to the side of i90 and navigate off road,” it told me. “off road” up a mountain densely packed with trees. High five, TomTom), and probably some nerves led me to give up last time since I had a lingering anxiety driving alone down forest roads. The anxiety has since dissipated, and I returned to see if I could eke out this hike before work.

Mirror Lake

The GPS still led me astray. The WTA directions were also hugely unhelpful. There were several four-way-intersections, where a main road branches into three directions. At the final intersection, freaking take the middle road! GPS sent me down the rightmost road (wrong) so I backtracked and went down the leftmost road (also wrong). Realized I was on the wrong side of Lost Lake, which is a great landmark – it should be on the left. It was to my right. Okay, backtrack again. I almost bailed at that point (the car that was following me did, I’m sure I looked like an idiot) but finally thought what the hell, let’s check out the middle road. I can at least have fun in the car if I don’t find the hike.

And the middle road was correct. I passed Lost Lake, passed the turnoff where I thought the hike was last time (nope) and finally came to a sign for the Mirror Lake trailhead. Which was .2 miles away, down a clear 4×4 road. Rutted (real ruts – 12″ deep ruts), rocky, overgrown brambles on the side. I chickened out and parked at the end and hiked it, thinking “you pansy, the xterra could have done this” with every step.

The trailhead is marked by a small wooden post. The road continues up, maybe something I’ll explore when I have the balls to take the rough road. I snuck off into the forest, and immediately realized that this was the quietest hike I’ve ever done off i90. You can’t hear the highway. It was amazing. I reminisced on my first solo hike/trail run, where the silence made me uneasy. And now, it’s a relaxing, liberating feeling, being alone on a trail in the woods.

Cottonwood Lake

There were a few big blowdowns to navigate, but the trail is very obvious and easy to follow. A few small streams, some flowers starting to bloom, and with the 60 degree sunny weather, hell it felt like summer. Why didn’t I wear shorts? Cottonwood lake is the first body of water you come to (more like a pond), and Mirror Lake is another half mile or so beyond that.

Waterfall past the lake

The trail certainly didn’t feel like it gained 850ft in a mile. It must have been very gradual, because I didn’t think it was steep. Though maybe that’s because my last hike was straight up (Eight Mile/Squire Creek Pass). I will say it’s definitely worth continuing around Mirror Lake to the PCT, where you get nice views overlooking a valley with Silver Peak in the distance, and a nice waterfall to the left of the trail. You can cross the waterfall and sit on some rocks to soak in the views with the sound of rushing water in the background, which is exactly what I did. Spent an hour catnapping in the sun before heading back to the car.

Short sweet hike if you’re crunched on time, and I bet it’s even prettier when the lakes are melted out in the summer. If I go back, I might double it with another hike, just to justify the drive to get there.

Eight Mile/Squire Creek Pass

Posted on April 21, 2015 by evejakubowski

Dwarfed by Three Fingers (taken by Surafel)

What to do on a day with avalanche danger so prevalent that NWAC released a “special advisory” statement? We had been planning St. Helens, which would have led to a glorious feeling of closure after my last attempt. Well, “attempt” is generous. I was rear ended in traffic on my way there back in January, 10 minutes after leaving my apartment. So it was an anticlimactic hike, to say the least. So this was to be attempt number two, but this time around, I was thwarted by avalanche conditions. 8″ of fresh snow combined with direct sunlight and temperatures in the mid 60’s did not bode well. Surafel suggested Eight Mile/Squire Creek Pass, a mostly forested hike that led to a small pass that looks straight at Three Fingers and Whitehorse. Okay, I could be convinced. Hiked 4/16/2015.

Distance: 5.4 miles round trip
Elevation: 2350ft gain, 4100 highest point
Weather: 60’s and sunny
Commute from Seattle: 2 hours
Did I Trip: HAHAHAha ahahahaha hahah ahhh… yes. And postholed, and slipped, and stumbled, and fell (into a creek), and every other descriptive word for wiping out

The road was rocky, but easily doable in any car. The trailhead is on the right side of the road, and the road actually continues. No idea where it goes. I drove a ways down it to make sure I was at the right trailhead, because I had seen fresh car tracks but no car, and I wondered if Surafel had come and passed it. Or maybe there would be an awesome section of rugged road with views where I could get pictures of my car (no luck). Eventually I figured I must have been in the right place since the last trip report said “road suitable for all vehicles” and the part beyond the trailhead was definitely not suitable for everyone.

Trillium blooming

Just as I got back, Surafel pulled up (woo!), and we were moving within minutes. I wasn’t sure what to expect of this trail, but it was straightforward at first. It climbed steeply through the forest. There were a few blow-downs to negotiate. In general, for the ones you can’t climb over, walk straight up the hill next to them and you’ll get to the next switchback.

Steep rooty section

The trail is unmaintained, and reminded me of the trail up to Snoqualmie Peak. Narrow, rocky, covered in roots, in sections it barely looked like a trail. Once you accept the idea that it’s a vaguely defined trail, it’s easier to follow. And hey, that makes it feel more like the wilderness.

Three O’Clock Rock, Surafel for scale

I can see why rock climbers like this place. Check out the huge rock wall to climb. It was massive, the type of rock I look at and can’t quite fathom how anyone climbs it. But I bet it’s a piece of cake for most climbers. It was shortly after this that the trail started to get covered in snow. We crossed a small talus slope, and beyond that, the trail was invisible. Okay, I was hoping to not be trail breaking again after how tiring Beckler was the day before, but I was here, so why not. For a while you could vaguely tell where the trail was. The forest was dense enough that when there was a windy line through the trees, it was a safe bet that it was the path. Eventually we emerged into a more open area, where the trees were more sparse and we were starting to get some views.

Emerging into sparse forest

Eventually, I wasn’t sure whether the crease I was following was the trail or a riverbed, but it was heading in the right direction according to the map (and why would a creek run sideways along a slope) so I stuck with it. The going was slow, between postholing all over the place and stopping to check the map. But I was taking pride in making nice evenly spaced trail-breaking steps, keeping a steady pace, and figuring out where we were heading.

Unfortunately the snow kept getting deeper, and finally, after taking a break by following a melted-out riverbed, we officially lost the summer trail. I knew we couldn’t be far from the pass, but it was going to be a long slog to get there. Postholing became a butt-deep matter, and the occasional tree well wasn’t helping. I’d fight tree wells if they were people. The secret ones that don’t open up until you’re on top of them. Where you don’t even see a bump that suggests “tree here.” Surprise trees. Those sneaky bastards, hiding beneath the snow. We’re lucky they were small.

“Okay, I’m having second thoughts… about this trail…” I turned around and Surafel wasn’t looking too happy. What he didn’t know was that at that moment, I was in a predicament. Eff it. I stood there, ass deep in snow, one foot trapped beneath a tree branch, the other poking around looking for something solid to stand on that wasn’t the branch on top of my other foot. I didn’t come here to get trapped on a 5.5 mile hike that tops out at 4100ft. Awkward. I’ll admit, I could have been more level headed. I could have commiserated, or agreed to turn back, or at least been sympathetic. But instead, what came out was a fiery “WELL I DIDN’T COME THIS FAR AND PUT UP WITH ALL OF THIS GOD DAMN SNOW TO NOT GET A GOOD LOOK AT FREAKING THREE FINGERS” and I had somehow found my footing and leapt from the clutches of my tree captor and scurried up the hill (if scurrying is possible in thigh deep snow) and BOOM. Whaddya know? I could see the pass below us.

Three Fingers

All things considered, it was pretty easy terrain to navigate. Great visibility, no avalanche danger because it was so flat and vegetated, and we knew exactly where we were. I wasn’t admitting defeat on this one. It’d be like the time I took a cab from REI to my apartment five blocks away because I didn’t want to walk up Denny. Before you say anything, in my defense it was the day after I ran a marathon. I wasn’t at that level yet. I was confident in where we were, where we were going, and conditions, and our ability to get there. I shouted back to Surafel. “I can see it! We’re almost there!”

Three Fingers on the left, Whitehorse on the right

We were a little higher than necessary, so we trekked down to the pass. More like waded down to the pass, with how much snow there was. Three Fingers, unobstructed by trees, and Whitehorse, smack in your face. That’s what you get on this hike. I dropped my pack, took out my raincoat and extra puffy layer, lay them on the ground, and flopped down on them. Nap time. Lying down has never been so satisfying. Maybe it’s because I don’t generally go to bed when it’s sunny with Three Fingers in the backdrop.

Whitehorse

We snacked on tea and Surafel melted snow for a dehydrated meal. I played a game of “airplane or avalanche,” a personal favorite where you hear a rumble and have to make a snap decision on which it is. Surprisingly tricky sometimes. We heard four avalanches on Three Fingers, and I don’t remember how many airplanes. They aren’t as memorable as avalanches, apparently.

Our footsteps leading towards the pass

We decided to follow our own tracks back even though that meant going up a little bit before heading down to meet the trail. The theory was that this time at least we’d see the postholes coming, and know where to watch out. It worked, and we made good time going back down. If you ignore both of us wiping out multiple times. Mud is slippery. Wet tree trunks are slippery too, and so are mossy rocks. Oh, and one time I postholed into a stream beneath a tiny snow bridge, and crashed to the ground. Which meant I broke through the rest of the snow bridge, and was effectively lying in a river. Tip: Always keep crappy old towels in the car. You never know when they’ll be useful. I caught myself every time (by which I mean I avoided injury, my ass still did the catching) but Surafel might have twisted a knee at one point. Luckily, we were close to the trailhead by then. Fingers crossed for a quick recovery!

Strava map

Huge tree!

What we thought would be a quick 5.4 mile round trip had turned into.. oh wait, still 5.4 miles. But a long 5.4 miles. Three hours, not including the long break we took at the pass. But the views were really spectacular. Not bad for a day where I expected to have to lie low! Great choice by Surafel. A fun, safe area to play around with maps, peak-naming, and navigation (though the number of times I considered going for the ridge and peak instead of the pass was irresponsibly high). I suppose a lesson to be learned from this one is to do the research beforehand. I didn’t do much, since I wasn’t expecting snow, and when I assume the trail will be clear, I also assume I won’t have navigation issues. Didn’t help that I was completely unfamiliar with that end of the Mountain Loop Highway, but that made everything new and exciting. Strava map can be found here.

I’m amazed this trail isn’t more popular. We did it on a tricky day, but just two weeks prior there had been no snow. A straightforward, snow-free trail that takes you to an up-close-and-personal view of Three Fingers and Whitehorse? Where are the crowds? It’s a bit steep, but it’s short. No worse than Pilchuck, really. And I bet camping there is great – sunrise probably makes those peaks look bright pink at sunrise.

Three Fingers over a melting tarn

Beckler Peak

Posted on April 16, 2015 by evejakubowski

Finally, my first day off in a week! Took long enough. I’ve been essentially working overtime, so this was a much needed break. Well, I didn’t actually have the day off. I had to work at 6. But 6pm… that’s more than enough time for a solid hike. What would it be? Partly cloudy forecast, but fresh snow from the night. Didn’t want to drive too far, or do anything too ambitious. So no route finding, nothing too steep, no trailblazing, minimal exposure given conditions… how about Beckler Peak? It’s been a popular one lately, so I figured there’d be a solid trail and I’d be able to do it quickly. And it looked mostly forested, so I wouldn’t have to pay attention to snow conditions. I was wrong, but we’ll get to that in a few paragraphs.

Views just before entering the forest

Distance: 7.4 miles (Strava had it at a solid 8 miles though)
Elevation: 2260ft gain, 5060 highest point
Weather: 40’s and snowing, occasional breaks in clouds
Commute from Seattle: 2 hours
Did I Trip: No but I slipped on some hidden boulders if that counts. And slid 8 feet. The tracks are there. Clear as day.

I woke up and had already procrastinated. I took my time having tea, and farting around online, and eating peanut butter from the jar. It was too late to do anything longer than 8 miles, and that was assuming I’d haul ass during my hike. Okay, fine, Beckler Peak it is. This had been on my radar for a while, but I never got around to it. I tend to save my off days for longer hikes, so this half-day was the perfect chance.

This is only the beginning

The drive was uneventful, until the forest road. Muddy at first, and I got to put those mud tires to use. Awesome. the mud turned to snow, and I got to take my first four wheel drive car in snow. And let me just say something real quick. Four wheel drive is amazing. After years of two wheel drive in snow, wow. Inches of snow on a steep narrow dirt road were not a concern, somehow. Don’t worry, views opened for a split second on a flat section and I got a picture. Yellow looks pretty good backed by fresh snow.

I was unsurprisingly the only car at the trailhead. My bag was already packed, so I hopped out and started off. The first part of the hike is down an old logging road.

Even logging roads look nice in snow

I had heard complaints, but it looked pretty nice covered in snow. There were a few vague footsteps to follow, but they turned around maybe 3/4 of a mile in, along with the snowshoe prints that were barely visible.

Speaking of snowshoes. Of all the hikes I’ve done this winter, this would have been a great one to have them. What started as a few inches of snow grew steadily deeper as I gained elevation. Most of the hike is in a forest, so no real avalanche concerns (a few mini slopes, like the one that created the perfect pinwheel), but that doesn’t mean the snow is shallow.

Perfect pinwheel

You enter dense forest around two miles in (after what seems like two logging roads, not one), and you begin to switchback up the slope. Here, the snow was probably around 10″ deep, and counting. There was a sneaky patch of blue sky behind me, the bastard. It never quite came over me. Just hovered in the distance. It disappeared after about half an hour, and it began to snow. By now I was trekking through maybe 15″ of snow closer to the ridge, and I was eyeing the clock to make sure I turned around in time to make it back for work. Sound familiar?

You can see the old trail at points

I broke out onto the ridge, and hit snow that was 18″ deep. Just enough to cover my knees. It’s exhausting. I think pride kept me going. It was my first (fake) day off in a week, I hadn’t been hiking in seven days. Plus I had technically never solo-trail-broken before, and this was a good opportunity to safely see what it was like. The trail is simple to follow even when completely buried, and there was no point where I was worried about navigation. I didn’t come this far and wade through knee deep snow just to turn around 10 minutes from the top. Or so I thought.

10 minutes passed. Okay, another 10 minutes, then I’ll turn around. Nope. Okay, five more. Still no. But it looks like there’s only a few more vertical feet and then I’m there, so one more push. What about work!? You have to teach a class! Eh, the way down will be faster. I finally realized I was staring at the summit, a pile of snow covered rocks. At least, I realized they were rocks when I postholed and slipped on a mossy boulder and lost the 8ft of elevation I had just gained. Dammit. I threw on my heavy duty gloves, and figuring no one would see me (and therefore no one would ever know) I knocked enough snow down to kick solid steps and essentially scrambled to the top.

View from the peak (classic Beckler pic)

I was lucky enough to have a few seconds of clarity! The clouds parted just long enough for me to see that cool square rock along the next ridge. They closed back in quickly, and I figured I’d just start back down. I turned around, and saw a little red figure on a branch. What? I walked closer, and realized it was a plastic horse from the last person who posted a trip report on wta.org, and it had been there for four days! It survived all of the fresh snow, and clung to its tiny branch.

Trusty steed!

The way down went far more quickly than the way up. Naturally it got sunny as I left, which usually I’d complain about, but I was pretty satisfied with the hike. First person to do a hike covered in fresh snow. Was it a pain in the ass? Yes. Was it tiring? Yes. Did I hobble on my ridiculously tight calves this morning, a day later? Also yes. But it was worth it.

The funny thing is, I bet most of the snow will be melted by this weekend. The temperatures are well above freezing, even overnight. The fact I would have appreciated snowshoes will be null, because this was a rare condition for a hike this winter, especially one so low in elevation. But that makes it a bit more fun.

On the way out, I ran into a guy in a Toyota pickup at the trailhead. Thank god he made it to the trailhead before I started driving away, because that road is narrow and there aren’t many good areas to pass others, especially two people in trucks on a snowy, slushy gravel road at that. But between the two of us, we had at least left pretty nice ruts for future cars, and again, I bet the snow on the road will be gone within a day or two.

I forgot how nice Route 2 can be. After spending so much time up north (Mountain Loop, Baker highway) I had started to lump route 2 in with i90, but there are a lot of good hikes up there. I’ll have to check out a couple more. Perfect for half days!

Winchester Peak (almost)

Posted on April 13, 2015 by evejakubowski

Twin Lakes trailhead sign

I almost didn’t write about this one. It’s been about a week, and it’s still a sore spot for me. We ended up not being able to summit, despite the fact that it’s less than 3 miles round trip if you take the winter route (this is where things went wrong). But since I want this to stay directed at people who are just getting into hiking and climbing, let’s talk failures.

I’ve written about a couple, and for some reason, I always have a lingering feeling of guilt even when I’m back. I get it, you can’t always complete everything, making it to the peak doesn’t matter, etc. But usually, when it doesn’t work out, it’s my own fault. See Stetattle Ridge, where I got a late start and chose to follow footprints instead of the route that I knew was technically the best way. This was a similar situation.

Distance: 5.1 miles (since we had to hike the road)
Elevation gain: 2200ft (6500 highest point)
Weather: 50’s and sunny
Commute from Seattle: almost 3 hours
Did I Trip: yes, but in thigh deep snow so I just… tilted a bit

Damn, whose good looking car is that

We left Seattle around 6am. Originally we were going to leave the night before, hike to the Twin Lakes trailhead, camp there and get an early alpine start. In retrospect, that still would have been the best idea, given avalanche conditions the next day. Instead, we arrived around 9am, I had the roughest ride I’ve had on a mountain road since Hidden Lake Lookout (except the Xterra handled it like a piece of cake) and we parked just past the Yellow Aster Butte trailhead and started off.

Goat Mountain looking good in white

It didn’t feel like hiking a road. Snow covered, narrow, snowmobile and ski tracks everywhere. Views of Goat Mountain were spectacular. Rocky, sharp, and covered in snow, jutting against the sky. We could see tracks from a party that had climbed up and skiied down, and I’m a little jealous. We were at the trailhead quickly, as noted by the TWIN LAKES sign almost completely buried by snow. I was excited to go stand between the lakes, and we cut across the frozen buried surface of one to get to the strip of land in the middle.

This is where we went wrong. The summer route starts between the lakes. The winter route, Winchester Direct, wraps around the left side of the lakes, through some trees, and up through an avalanche chute. I didn’t even stop to look at winter vs summer when we were crossing the lake. Past trip reports I had read recommended both, so I figured hey, we were already between the lakes, we’ll give this one a shot. The summer trail usually traverses the face of Winchester, which was all avalanche terrain. We thought we could head straight up to the ridge and then hopefully cut left and follow the ridge to the summit, or wrap behind the mountain. Nope.

Kyle coming up to some flatter ground

Snowpack was steep and soft. We followed old tracks hoping to avoid postholing, but it didn’t work. Breaking trail is hard, and we were just in knee/thigh deep snow. I can’t even imagine wading through waist deep snow, and I know it’s been done. We hugged trees and rocks and skirted a small avalanche slope just below the ridge. I was already iffy on conditions, and upon gaining the ridge, we realized we were standing right near a cornice. We turned left to see if we could follow it up, and were staring at another cornice several feet above our heads. Okay, so that’s not happening.

Larrabee from the east shoulder of Winchester

We debated taking a break there, but I was anxious to get back down to flatter ground. Pinwheels, mini-slides, and we knew it’d only get worse as the day got warmer. So we backtracked to a small knoll looking at Baker.

Here’s the funny part. Guys, I got some GREAT time lapses of the clouds forming over Baker. But I built a snow-tripod. Which melted. Slowly. Through each video. So once they’re sped up, you watch the camera slooooooowly tip backwards… I’m not even going to post them. All three of them, god dammit! Rocks make better tripods. Like I said, a learning experience. Avalanche terrain and hobo tripods.

Ski and snowmobile tracks beneath Winchester

We descended much more quickly than the way up took us, thanks to glissading. We ran into a group of skiiers at the lakes, who followed our tracks despite our notes about conditions at the top and suggesting the winter route. I wonder if they made it, or if they just wanted to get high enough to get a good run down an open slope. I briefly considered trying the winter route, but it felt like I was trying too hard for a victory. Back at the road, we passed a group of hilarious 50-or-60-somethings having a blast: two guys on a snowmobile whooping as they dragged their buddy behind them on a snowboard. Guys, I can only hope my retirement years are that good.

We cut the road switchbacks (glissading is more fun, really) and by the time we got back to the car, clouds had officially moved in. We drove out through rain, which makes me feel a bit better about not trying the winter route after our failure – we’d have had crappy weather anyway.

Baker in the clouds

Hindsight is 20/20. Why didn’t I read the Winchester Direct map a few days earlierearlier along with trip reports? The summer route is along the southeastern face of a mountain, of course the snow would be soft in the sun. It traversed a face that was an obvious avalanche slope. The definition of “winter route” alone made it a better choice. These were all things I knew beforehand. On the other hand, the winter slope was up an avalanche chute, so maybe we’d have had to turn around anyway. I can try to justify it a hundred times, but it all comes down to me making the wrong choice. But you know what? Views were still good. It still felt like we were in the middle of the mountains in the middle of nowhere. My concerns back at Lake Ingalls were validated when Kyle agreed with me on Winchester about the dicey conditions. I know what signs to watch for, but haven’t been around enough to know when I should be concerned. At Ingalls, I wasn’t sure if I was being paranoid (after all, there was a group aiming for the peak despite conditions). So I’ll go back someday, and I’ll follow the winter route, and I’ll sit on the porch of the lookout. And I’ll drink my tea, and watch the sun rise over Mt. Baker. Get at me, Winchester.

Mount Washington

Posted on April 7, 2015 by evejakubowski

Views from Mt. Washington

I had to come back down to earth eventually, and this hike was a “normal” hike. That doesn’t mean it lacked views by any means, rather, it was a section of i90 I’ve actually never really looked at before. So despite being a 45 minute drive from Seattle, it was territory I hadn’t seen besides peeking out the window driving down the highway. Let’s see how many peaks I can remember.

Distance: 8.5 miles round trip (Strava said 9.4)
Elevation: 3250ft gain, 4400ft highest point
Weather: 40’s and sunny
Commute from Seattle: 45 minutes
Did I Trip: No

Fresh snow along i90! We knew it after driving through the Snoqualmie Blizzard (slight exaggeration, but flakes of snow might as well be a blizzard when I haven’t seen it in months) the day before on our way to Navaho Peak. The trailhead for Mt. Washington is right off the highway. This used to be a relief, now I’m a little bummed when I don’t get to take crappy dirt roads.

Waterfall shower along the trail

I forgot my discovery pass like a champ, so we parked just before the actual permit area and hiked about .1 mile to the actual trailhead. The trail is steep for about 500ft and then joins up with the John Wayne Trail, a wide open road-like trail. One you’ve reached that, you will pass two small trails heading off into the woods on the left. The second tiny trail is the one you’re looking for. We weren’t positive about even being on the right trail at first, but we figured what the hell, we’ll get to the top of something and figure out what it actually is later.

Slushy trail

The trail winds through the forest, crossing a few small creeks and waterfalls. Snow started low, maybe around 2000ft. It was slushy. For anyone who hasn’t hiked in slush, it’s like running in sand. Ugh. The trail is easy to follow even when covered for the most part, though there were more than enough boot prints to follow if you’re ever worried. No microspikes necessary, but I did appreciate the grip on my La Sportiva Synthesis that I was raving about a few posts ago.

Rattlesnake Ledge

Sneak peeks of views came through the trees – Rattlesnake Ledge, Mailbox, Si. In the pic to the left, you can just barely make out Rattlesnake Ledge – that rocky outcropping on the left. It was cloudy when we started, but the clouds lifted as we went along, and rather than be socked in by clouds at the top, we actually had views in every direction.

Tarn on the way up

The party that got there before us said they could only see a few feet in front of them at the top, so we lucked out with timing. The last ridge up to the summit looks over Chester Morse Lake, which supplies the Puget Sound area with water.

Mailbox Peak on the left

From the top, you can see Mailbox Peak, Mt. Si, Mt. Teneriffe, Chance Peak, and I’m sure on a clear day, plenty of others. It was the first time I had a visual of what the beginning of hte i90 corridor looked like – I didn’t even realize that the Snoqualmie River fork meant several ridge lines, I had always just assumed there were two: one on either side of i90. Turns out, Mt. Si and Teneriffe are along a completely separate ridge from Mailbox Peak, the infamously steep hike that seems to be a rite of passage for trail runners out here. Confession: I haven’t done it yet.

Looking back along the final ridge

Geocache on the ground, summit register in the tree

Once we reached the top, there were two areas to sit. On the actual summit in the sun (and wind) or in a clump of trees in the shade (no wind). I chose sun, but Kyle went to check out the shade. And found a summit register! Hidden in a length of PVC pipe stuck in a tree. And buried in the snow was an official Geocache… box. I’ve actually never seen on up close before, though I’m pretty sure there’s one beneath the boardwalk at Lake TwentyTwo if you head left when you reach the lake. I saw that one. Nothing too exciting inside this one, except someone’s credit card. I hadn’t brought anything neat to leave, so we just closed it up and put it back. But I have to wonder how many of these I’ve passed on hikes and just never noticed. I bet there are tons up here.

If you look very closely you can see places to clip in dangling on the right

Sitting at the summit, I realized how tired I was. It felt like it had taken forever to get there, and now we had to get all the way down. And quickly – I was aiming to be back in time for the Furious 7 premiere. I had work at 8am the next morning, and a pre-movie nap was in order. After downing some easter m&m’s, we packed our stuff back up and were on our way. We did notice a rock climbing area that we completely missed on the way up – perfect for sport climbing. Apparently there are a bunch of places to climb in the area, but since I’ve never tried it, none are on my radar. Here’s a pic on the right of the climbing area. I’m assuming the signs for “Great Wall” along the trail are directing hikers to another good rock climb. Good to know for when I decide to give it a shot.

Strava map of Mt. Washington

Overall, a very straightforward trail that’s a great introduction to the North Bend i90 area if you don’t want to deal with the crowds on Si and Mailbox. Almost no avalanche danger whatsoever since it’s mostly through trees, but you still get a nice view at the top. Apparently you can even see Rainier on a clear day. Strava map here. Also, a few hikers lost their car keys on the trail! We saw a sign written in snow that said “KEYS!” in bright red (no idea how they did that, it wasn’t just red juice) followed by “PARKING LOT” (I think). Safe to say someone dropped their keys and another hiker found them, and according to the trip report on WTA later that night, that’s exactly what happened. Hikers out here are great. By now, I’ve had car keys returned, snowshoes taken (kindly – they thought they were doing us a favor), food shared, directions shared, a dog leash returned, teamed up with random hikers to get farther than I would solo, someone even left a note on my buddy Jonathan’s car when she thought we might have left his GoPro on a rock at Heather Lake. We were just taking a timelapse, but still. Someone give me a chance to pass it forward, dammit!

Navaho Peak (yes, with an H)

Posted on April 4, 2015 by evejakubowski

View of Stuart from along the ridge

After a ridiculous day at Lake Ingalls two days prior, I was on my way back to the Teanaway region again on 4/1/2015 – Wednesday morning. It’s like I’ve discovered a secret beautiful area that’s always sunny with amazing views. Don’t tell anyone. There’s something special about going for a hike and knowing you’re the only people for miles. Anyway, Navaho Peak ended up being far more doable than I expected after seeing the Ingalls basin, and damn, did those views take my breath away.

Distance: 12 miles round trip (12.3 for us)
Elevation: 4200ft gain, 7220 highest point
Weather: 50’s and sunny at the bottom, freaking cold and windy at the top (maybe low 30’s?)
Commute from Seattle: 2:15, longer if you get stuck in Snoqualmie Blizzard

Dusted trail in the beginning

Snoqualmie Pass was the hardest part of the drive. Heavy snow, limited visibility, and trucks using their chains. It felt like playing frogger, except in a car, and more stressful. I wasn’t driving. I just resigned myself to my fate that maybe it was my time and Ingalls was just a good way to end my hiking career on a good note. The weird part? It made me a little homesick for the east coast. Yeah, that’s what I miss. Spinning my wheels on hill starts because there was 6 inches of snow on the ground and tire chains were unheard of. Or that one time a BMW in Chicago spun into a snow bank as I smirked behind him. Don’t worry, I helped dig him out, I’m nice. But we made it, thanks to Kyle, and about 5 miles from our exit, the skies started to clear. The light at the end of the tunnel! Yes!

Looking up at Navaho and a small avalanche/slide area (before pic, see after pic below)

Looking up ay a small avalanche/slide area (before pic, see after pic below)

The road to the trailhead was a piece of cake. A few potholes, but nothing too rutted, no washouts, no snow or ice patches besides a light dusting of fresh snow twinkling in the sun. Gorgeous. We got started right away and followed the summer trail for the first 2 miles, stopping to take pictures along the river. Little Navaho and Navaho were both covered in snow, but it didn’t look deep. I started to think this might not be as tricky as I expected. Hell, it was already easier than Lake Ingalls. And the first few miles of the trail are pretty much flat.

Almost at the ridge, Earl in the background

We did lose the trail at one point. I blame the fresh snow. We went off trail for a bit aiming for Navaho Pass (more on this later) and eventually ran into the trail as it started to switchback up the slope. It went in and out of snowy patches, and we finally lost it for good about two miles from the top. At that point, we just started trekking straight up the snow to the ridge. Steep, but snow conditions were fantastic. Far less concerning than the conditions getting to Lake Ingalls. Fully consolidated, no slushy layer, just nice firm snow with a bit of powder on top. A few of my buddies put on microspikes, I found that kicking steps was more than enough.

Stuart with wispy clouds

Earl grew smaller and smaller as we got higher and higher, and finally we gained the ridge. Boom. Stuart! From the other side! Damn, the Stuart range is photogenic. We were still in a sparsely forested area, so trees occasionally got in the way, but the views were unbelievable. Just don’t look back towards i90. It’s still nice, but it’s a highway. Looking at the snow covered peaks makes you feel like a bad ass in the middle of the wilderness. And I bet Earl doesn’t look half as good once all of the snow has melted.

Heading along the ridge to the summit, Earl again

We turned right to head up towards the true summit. Behind us was Earl, to the left was Ingalls (in the clouds), Stuart, Sherpa, Argonaut, Colchuck, Dragontail, Little Annapurna, and McClellan Peak. Straight ahead was Navaho, and beyond that, Little Navaho. Snow conditions were still great, and staying to the right of the trees blocked some of the wind that was whipping around us. It was steep going, but that doesn’t matter. When you’re somewhere that beautiful, you want to stop every 20 feet to get pictures of everything. The peaks, the ridge behind you, the valley, every step is amazing. Or maybe that was just our excuse to take breaks, you’ll never know.

Panorama looking northwest from the peak

Finally we came out of the trees, and the summit was just above us. Hey guys! I found the trail! I laughed running up the last clear 15 feet to the rocky summit. What I didn’t realize is that Three Brothers was right beyond where we were. I didn’t even get a picture! How did I miss?! We snapped pictures of everyone at the top, until I couldn’t feel my fingers or feet anymore. Dammit. Three socks isn’t enough, apparently. We trekked back down the ridge a ways until we found a spot secluded from the wind by a cluster of trees (but in the sun!) and settled down there for snacks. I had a valiant attempt at getting a time-lapse, but my camera fell over just as clouds brushed the peak of Stuart. Because I don’t have a tripod. I prop it up on a rock or two and hope for the best. The plebeian photographer. But here’s what I got, a slightly less exciting version of what I saw.

Stuart range from the peak of Navaho

Stuart is one dramatic peak. The dark stone (all granite, I was told) contrasts amazingly with the snow, and it just looks so sharp from this angle. I’ll climb that someday.

Glissading down

After making sure everyone knew how to self arrest, we glissaded most of the way down. That made the trip back down the ridge much easier than the way up. And glissading is a blast. It’s like sledding for adults. I’d recommend bringing microspikes and an axe, though I never felt like I would be relying on the axe at any point like I did occasionally at Ingalls. It was just a fun tool to steer and brake when glissading.

“after” pic – no snow left on the lower peaks! Taken from next to the huge log in the “before” pic

We followed our own steps down from the ridge, and eventually met up with the summer trail again, which we followed all the way to the parking lot. The snow had mostly melted, leaving the trail dry and sunny. An entirely different day. Oh, and it turned out our “off-trail navigation” around miles 2-3 was a hilarious 15-30ft from the trail at any given point. Oops.

Strava Map of Navaho Peak trail

I’m too lucky. Two spectacular hikes in a row. I came back down to earth on Thursday – it had to happen eventually. Here’s to hoping the snow will stick around just a little bit longer, or I’ll be forced to chase it up high.

Here’s a strava map if you’d like to see where we went. I imagine we left a pretty good boot path between the five of us. Highly recommend checking it out now if you have the chance. I’m a newbie out here and don’t know how long those peaks will be snow capped. All I know is that the title picture on the WTA trip page doesn’t do it justice. It’s an incredible horizon to look across. And knowing that the enchantments (allegedly the best hikes in the entire state) are on the other side is intriguing. It’s like a secret within a secret, blocked by peaks on all sides. I’d love to do those in shoulder season with some snow someday.

Lake Ingalls II

Posted on March 31, 2015 by evejakubowski

Mt. Stuart (phone photo)

I’m gonna go ahead and say this is the hike of the month. It had everything. It required a car with four wheel drive and high clearance. You know how much I like my car. Spikes, ice axe, navigation (well, kind of) tea, moon cheese, excessive photography. Plenty of postholing, slipping, negotiation steep slopes/short scrambles, wet feet. Sunburned nostrils. And of course, a big. Freaking. Mountain. Right in your face. As Surafel put it, “nice to meet you, Mt. Stuart!”

Surafel looking at Stuart across Lake Ingalls

Surafel looking at Lake Ingalls. Ingalls peaks off screen to the left, Jack Ridge center, Stuart on the right.

Distance: 9 miles (we did 7.7, “winter route”)
Elevation: 2500ft gain, 6500 highest point
Weather: 50’s and sunny
Commute from Seattle: 2:30 without traffic
Did I Trip: Postholed to my thighs, fell back and sat, but I guess technically… I did not. Ha!

Surafel with Esmerelda Peaks in the background

I almost said no to this hike. I almost. Said. No. I wasn’t sure about weather, or snow pack, or road conditions. But I though to hell with it, I’ll just do something else around there if everything fails. Hiked March 30th, 2015. And you know what? It worked out. And even if it hadn’t, at least sunrise driving through Snoqualmie Pass was stunning in itself. Shit, someone tell me how to fit 33 pictures into a blog post.

It’s a drive. The road to the trailhead was impassable with a low clearance car. Nevermind potholes, there’s a small creek that has built itself a 12″ tall riverbank across the road, and a rock slide close to the parking lot. Oh, and patches of snow and ice, though those were melting on the way out. I reached the trailhead around 8:15am, and there was Surafel, ready to go! Most of my stuff was already packed, so I hopped out, grabbed my poles, and we were off.

Nearly out of the trees

The summer trail lasted maybe a quarter of a mile before turning to snow. We followed footprints from a previous hiker (who postholed EVERYWHERE) and cut straight up through the trees. This is where we cut mileage off of the summer trail. The boot path was pretty obvious up until the basin. The north face of Esmerelda peaks was covered in snow, which looked amazing on the way up. Until we started getting above it.. and then it looked less impressive. And we kept going up.

The snowpack was pretty well consolidated, and firm on the way up. We were mostly in shade which helped, and it was only mid morning, so it hadn’t been too warm. I suggested possibly aiming for Ingalls Peak (the south summit) to Surafel, and we decided to make a game time decision based on conditions in the basin. There was one small river crossing that involved descending a steep slope, but it wasn’t too menacing. Interesting how the snow on one side was completely melted, but not on the other. Adams and Rainier start to come into view if it’s clear enough, and damn. Just wait until you get to the ridge.

Panorama from where we gained the ridge, Stuart on the right, Ingalls in the sun on the left with Surafel enjoying the view

Mt. Stuart being ridiculous

Cresting the ridge is one of the best parts of this hike. It’s an amazing feeling, getting to the top of something and seeing sweeping views below you that you didn’t know existed until that moment. And that’s how this is. I remembered it from last time. Suddenly there’s Ingalls Peak, and the basin, and Mt. Stuart, all these things you had no idea would be in your face. It looked much different covered in 6 feet of snow than when it was clear and full of yellow larches, but it was just as gorgeous this time around. And being two of the five total people in a basin full of snow (a group of three was heading for the peak) makes it that much more wild.

Mt. Stuart back in October

We had a small break after reaching the ridge to take some pictures and soak in Stuart’s glory. While the summer trail was beneath several feet of snow, I knew where the basin was, and figured we could find a decent way to get there. The first half was straightforward, it would be the last bit that would be tricky. We trekked to some of the overlooks I stood on last time I was here, and found a few snow bridges that showed just how deep the snow was. Deeper than I am tall, and this is a pretty low snow year. The area we were crossing got steeper, and we traded poles for ice axes. The runout didn’t look too good if we fell. Snow was soft, but if the snow didn’t stop us, the rocks would. Side note, it’s interesting how different Stuart and Ingalls are in color. Stuart has that sharp dark rocky color, whereas Ingalls is more of a soft brown. Different types of rock? I’ll have to do some research.

Looking across the valley, Stuart on the left, ridge on the right

We crossed some areas that involved light scrambles over boulders, and finally reached a steep slope covered in pinwheels and roller balls. The sun was strong, it was warming up, and the snow was melting. I like to think I’m overly conservative. Since the slope was only maybe 30ft across, we went one at a time, and quickly, and literally nothing happened besides a small slide I saw above us. We repeated that across two more slopes, until we were on flat ground and cresting the hill that overlooks Lake Freaking Ingalls.

Lake Ingalls beneath Ingalls Peaks

I jumped and shouted and turned around to holler to Surafel, who was behind me. Naturally, the lake was frozen over and covered in snow. We turned right to head up to a small rocky hill overlooking the lake, and chose to snack there. I was a little anxious about getting back across the slopes, so the break was short. But we did have a chance to watch the three climbers get close to the peak. Once they were on the rocks close to the summit, we lost track of them. We could hear them, but not see them. Crazy how far sound carries. I’ll admit I was a little jealous, but we had decided that the peak was a little out of our comfort zone. I like to think that because they were up there, avalanche danger couldn’t be that bad, but you never know. And I had seen that small avalanche 20 minutes before we reached the lake. So we played it safe.

Surafel crossing hills

Heading back was easier. We had stomped a pretty good path, and it was easier than breaking trail on the way there. Forget avalanches, I was stopping to take pictures of Surafel crossing everything. That’s probably how I’ll exit this world someday. Just make sure you try to find my camera.

Every once in a while, I’d have those “…look where we ARE” moments where you stop and realize that you’re miles away from everything, including other people, dwarfed by slopes and boulders and mountains. The silence was absolute, except when broken by a rock slide, which was a sound I hadn’t heard since Rainier this past summer. Or by our steps, or by my breathing, or by the climbers communicating above us.

Me on the ridge with Stuart to the left across the basin. Taken by Surafel

When we had made it back to the ridge, we took another break. The sky was absurd. It had alternated between blue, blue with wispy clouds, blue with rolling clouds, overcast, everything we could have asked for. Rainier and Adams were fully out (they had been shrouded in clouds before). Getting back down was… not tough, but tiring. Postholing every step is a pain in the ass. I thought descending Disappointment Cleaver for the first time in crampons (it felt like it just never ended) was my own personal hell, but I’ve revised that to Descending Disappointment Cleaver except Covered in Soft Ass Deep Snow So You Can Posthole Every Damn Step While Scrambling. It’s usually worth it in the end, but that doesn’t mean I have to enjoy it, guys.

View of Rainier

Dirt has never felt so good. The trail was still amazing, but when we got back to dirt, I felt so slick and fast and agile. We finally took the microspikes off, and were back to the cars by about 3pm. Faster than I expected. OH, also, I had sunburned around my glacier goggles. It’s a good look. We checked out the waterfall by the trailhead, and headed out. Of course, I wanted to stop to get a picture of my car on the road.

This hike was awesome. I had no idea I’d be back here in winter, with everything covered in snow. I will never get bored living in Washington. Our strava map is here. For anyone who wants to check it out, there should be a pretty good boot path from now until significant snow comes. If it comes. I’m not complaining – there’s enough snow for me to get in some good beginner experience, but not enough to stop me from getting to incredible places. And to think that just a few months ago, I was worried I’d have to stop hiking. It’s amazing what you can learn.

Strava map

Xterra looking sharp as usual. Taken by Surafel

Standing beneath Ingalls Peaks, taken by Surafel

Overlooking Lake Ingalls, slope up to Ingalls peak on the left, Jack Ridge on the right. Taken by Surafel

Boulder River

Posted on March 29, 2015 by evejakubowski

What to do on a guaranteed rainy day? Where to go? You could say I’m a pessimist. If you set low expectations, you’ll never be disappointed, right? I had no expectations for Boulder River. Boulder River had been on my simple hike list for a few months ever since a buddy recommended it back in December. We had to be back in Seattle by early evening, and it turned out Boulder River was relatively close. And okay, I won’t lie, I might have been sore from Defiance the day before, and the 10 mile runs the two days before that. It was adding up. Zero to sixty, that’s how I do it. So, I present to you, Boulder River. Hiked 3/24/2015, Boulder River is much more than just a stroll along a creek.

Jonathan on a huge old tree stump

Distance: 8.6 miles round trip (slightly longer if you take some of the offshoots)
Elevation: 700ft gain (1500 highest point)
Weather: 40’s-50’s and rainy, cloudy, and sunny
Commute from Seattle: 1:15, until i5 turned into a parking lot, and then the rest of Seattle followed suit
Did I Trip: I did not. But Jonathan wiped out trying too hard to be cool crossing a log.

Steep offshoot through green canopy. 10/10 would bivvy at the top

So the road wasn’t quite as exciting as the road to Mason Lake. At least until the way home, but we’ll discuss that later. Accessible to all vehicles, no big potholes, easy road to follow. Trail starts out on an old logging road. Very flat and very wide, and I can see why people trail run it. It’d be a great easy run. It was pouring, so we threw on rain pants and our shells and got started.

Ribbon falls

Within a mile I was already impressed. The trail curves to the left, and there’s a steep offshoot to the right that just goes straight up into a green canopy of trees. Of course, we followed. At this point, my camera died, so you’re stuck with phone photos from here on out. I know. Oops. (Side note – gonna plug in my camera for tomorrow’s hike!) Shortly after that offshoot, we found a few campsites near the trail, and just beyond those, a waterfall!

A tall, thin ribbon of water cascading down the opposing cliff, with moss on either side. You hear it before you see it. We ooh-ed and ahh-ed and stared, and finally kept moving. Again, we heard rushing water. Louder than the river. Wait. No way. Glimpses through the trees.

Double waterfall. Jonathan for scale.

Another waterfall!! A double waterfall! Are you kidding me, I thought we’d just be walking next to a calm flat river, not trekking through rainforest with 80 foot tall waterfalls. Damn, Washington. You never cease to amaze me.

We stopped to take a bunch of pictures and just sit in awe. Waterfalls… are totally cool. I haven’t seen one this big since my road trip out here this summer. We finally dragged ourselves away.

Salmonberry, I believe!

Flowers were starting to bloom along the trail – salmonberry, huckleberry, skunk cabbage. Two of those will be great to eat later this year. The moss was unbelievable, and if it’s this green in March, I have to wonder how it is later in the summer. It’s accessible year-round, though my friend who recommended it said it was actually icy when he was there. Snow and icicles. I can’t imagine.

There were a couple blow-downs to get over, and some tree caves to explore. And plenty of small babbling creeks crossing the trail. Wear waterproof boots, folks. Jonathan almost lost one of his mid height boots in a mud puddle, it was that deep.

Glimpse of sun!

I had no issues in my new La Sportiva Synthesis – shameless plug because they won the Editor’s choice award in Backpacker Magazine, and I was fortunate to receive a pair for testing thanks to Goretex. I don’t have a big sample size, but they’re the most breathable waterproof boots I’ve ever tried. No sweaty feet, and the water that did spill over the edges occasionally actually dried up. Which is insane. Usually I just keep hiking with water in my boots. It’s going to be tough going back to my usual pair, but when it comes to steep, icy, snowy terrain, I stick with my stiffer boots. The Synthesis is very flexible, which is great for lighter hikes (I was carrying around 20 lbs in my pack) but I don’t know if I’d push it on more technical trails. Though I will say (from Defiance a day earlier) the soles grip snow surprisingly well. I was having a much easier time without microspikes than Lee in her Oboz when we were on fresh snow. So we’ll see just how much of a beating these guys can take.

Trail winding through mossy trees

Anyway, back to the awesome trail. Flat, well groomed, besides the mud patches that almost stole Jonathan’s boot. We were curious how the trail would end. Would it just peter out? Did it turn into the river and just stop? Or did it keep going? We eventually reached an area with a campsite next to the river (prime time real estate), and the trail ended just beyond it. Just turned into overgrown brush. It used to carry on to Three Fingers long ago.

Jonathan disappearing into green

Most of you know I turned into a trail history nerd. I know none of it, but want to learn all of it. I posed my question in my trip report, and got two fantastic responses. The trail was the main trail to the Three Fingers lookout until they put in Forest Road 41 back in the 1960’s. From there on out, the Boulder River trail was unmaintained beyond where you ford the river itself. Obi Tony Kenobi actually tried to bushwack up to the bottom of a waterfall from the Queest-Alb Glacier, and has a pretty cool trip report about the stretch between where the Boulder River Trail ended and where he had to turn around. There even used to be a cabin near Gerkman Creek, which joins Boulder River a few miles upstream of the current trail. It’s eerie to think how popular it must have been, while it’s completely abandoned and wild now.

Blow down on the trail

So that’s Boulder River for you. Some neat history, second growth forests, logging roads, abandoned trails, awesome waterfalls, soon-to-be-berries, a flat green hike. Absolutely would repeat. We got a few glimpses of sun, and it turns out it’s a gorgeous hike in any weather. Strava map here, you can see the few offshoots we took that added a bit to the mileage.

Oh, and on the way out, we got this great picture of my new car. I was taking pictures through the windshield until Jonathan just said “wait, you’ll love this” (I had been snapping pictures of my car at the trailhead) and hopped out to snag this pic. Photo credit to Jonathan Lee, with Subtledream Photography.

Bring on the mountains!

Mount Defiance (and Mason Lake on the way)

Posted on March 24, 2015 by evejakubowski

It’s official, folks: I am the proud owner of a new (well, 9 year old) Nissan Xterra! Watch out Cascades, there’s a new bright yellow gas guzzling beast in your midst with an impatient Bostonian behind the wheel. Except you can’t tell anymore, because I got Washington plates. I’ll admit, I’m a little bummed. Now I have no excuse when I do something stupid. Instead of “oh, they’re from Boston, of course they suck at driving” it’ll be “oh, there goes a jerk in an outrageous car.”

McClellan Butte lit up by some brief sun (anyone know what peak is to the left?)

Anyway, it’s time to hit the trails again. Yesterday’s endeavor was originally going to be lakes Talapus and Ollalie, but driving out to i90 views were actually decent. Overcast, but you could see much of the Cascade range, so we regrouped and decided to attempt Mt. Defiance. Being an ambitious idiot, I thought it was 10 miles, and figured it couldn’t be too steep since it was just past Mason Lake. This will be important later. Spoiler alert: it’s 11 miles, and I’m dumb. And this morning my legs were sore. That’s rare.

Distance: 11 miles
Elevation: 3584ft gain, 5500 highest point
Weather: Sunny, rainy, snowy and 30’s-40’s (aka everything besides wind)
Commute from Seattle: 1 hour
Did I Trip: Yes. So did Lee. Turns out we’re kind of clumsy.

We pulled off the highway to drive down to the Mason Lake/Ira Spring trailhead. The road gets worse every time. Last month I had a Subaru struggle to clear the potholes going 5mph. This time… 10 inches of clearance. Four wheel drive. Mud tires. Great suspension. I had a blast. I can’t imagine Lee was very comfortable bouncing around in the passenger seat while I bombed through puddles. I didn’t make Lee get out to take a picture, but next time. There were a few other cars at the trailhead (curious, as we only ran into one other person – the rest must have been camping), and before we knew it, we were on the way. I figured we had about 4 hours tops, if I wanted time to get back and shower before I had to work at 3.

Sunlight got our hopes up

Snow covered Mason Lake

Beginning of the trail is just as it was a few weeks ago when I hiked with Dave to Mason Lake. The creek that was tricky to cross in February was much lower now, and we could just rock hop across. Trail isn’t too steep until the wide old logging road ends, and then it starts getting steeper. I passed those old steel cables again, and still have to wonder what the hell they were used for. I was told a few months back on McClellan that there used to be lights for airplanes on Catherine, McClellan, and Bandera peaks, so that’s my best guess. It’s just a few scrappy remnants at this point, so I might never find out. I’m a dork, guys, I like finding the history behind certain trails and areas.

We were at Mason Lake within an hour and a half. I knew we had to push the pace if we wanted to make it to Defiance without making me be late to work. Remember when I’d wake up at 5 to go hike and be back for work at 2? And how I’d consistently underestimate the time it’d take me to complete a hike? Yeah, that’s happening again.

Summit of Defiance visible from the Mason Lake trail

I briefly considered heading to Bandera at the trail junction, but was feeling a little lazy and didn’t want to tackle that last mile. So we headed to the lake, with the hope of reaching Defiance. No views of Rainier at this point, but still clear so far! Mason Lake was actually spectacular. Half melted, but with a light dusting of snow all over the logs and surrounding rocks, the lake was a respectable destination in itself, and one that I would have been happy to repeat.

Sneak peek of views before cloud level dropped

We kept moving, and met up with the main trail, which was signed right at the lake. Following that for a few minutes, we came to a sign pointing to the Defiance trail (or Mason Lake, or Pratt Lake, or Thompson Lake) and took off towards the peak. The trail had become covered in a light dusting of snow, and we plugged along. We had a few sneak peeks of views, but nothing too open. Soon it was actually snowing, and I started to wonder if we’d even have views by the time we got to the top.

Lee traversing the meadows below Defiance

By the way, the last two miles to the peak are steep! I underestimated it, and it was a wake up call for my buns and thighs. I’ll trail run it someday (besides the steepest parts) because it’s close to Seattle and a good distance for a morning run. And it has long flat sections. Which, of course, mean short very steep sections. But you know what? We were in a winter freaking wonderland. I don’t think either of us had seen snow since December. It was amazing. There were just a few inches, not enough for spikes, but poles were nice.

Mason Lake and Little Mason Lake down below

We broke out along the meadows about a half mile from the top of Defiance, and despite the clouds dropping lower and lower, were impressed by the scenery. We could just barely make out Mason Lake (and Little Mason Lake, I believe) in the background.

Lee looking tiny down below

When the steep section of trail started, I left Lee behind for a few minutes to see how quickly I could get to the top. We figured it’d be socked in by clouds so it wouldn’t be worth bringing all our gear and trudging up there, especially since we were short on time.

Lee tries to catch snowflakes on her tongue

We were correct. Nothing but a wall of white, which was disappointing because I was hoping to see the topography and lakes Mason and Kulla Kulla laid out beneath me. But we’ll just have to go back another time. I ran back down the trail to meet Lee, and we headed back to Mason Lake. On the way down, it started snowing even harder, all the way down to 3500ft, maybe further. It brought out our inner Bostonian snow-loving joy (or maybe just hiker’s high? Like runner’s high? Damn endorphins) and we stopped in amazement for a bit to try and catch flakes. Soon afterwards, the snow turned to rain (of course) and we speed-hiked the rest of the way. Made it back to the car in just under 5 hours round trip, and just enough time for me to drop Lee off, grab a change of clothes, and go straight to work. Shh, don’t tell my coworkers.

Strava map and link here. Turned around along the ridge before the true summit since Lee was waiting below and there weren’t going to be views at the top anyway. Next time!

Strava map

It’s great having the hiking freedom again. With spring coming up, there’s going to be so much to do, and this is why I moved out here. I packed up my bags and drove out here to be surrounded by mountains, not for a job, or for friends, or for the hipster flannel beanie coffee lover vibe. Mountains. Hiking, climbing, trail running. Let’s do it.

—

EDIT: Just found out that they’re considering logging the bottom of this trailhead, as well as a few others in the area. The old logging road that this trail follows at first will be re-opened as just that. It will affect Talapus and Ollalie, Granite Mountain, Pratt Lake, McClellan Butte, and a few others. All close, popular, accessible hikes. Bummer. I was too late to give input, but hopefully they’ll decide to at least avoid the trail areas. I just moved out here, give me a few more seasons before moving in the loggers!

Mount Ellinor

Posted on March 15, 2015 by evejakubowski

So, what I thought would be a “pop culture” easy hike ended up being a bit of a butt buster. I’ll just start with that. I was lulled into a false sense of security, especially over the first two steady, soft, forested miles. But let’s chat about the rest of the hike before the elevation gain slapped me awake first. Hiked 3/13/2015, lucky Friday the 13th!

View of Mt. Washington from the summit of Ellinor

Distance: 6.2 miles round trip (lower trailhead)
Elevation: 3300ft gain
Weather: 50’s and overcast
Commute from Seattle: 2:30 if no traffic
Did I trip: stubbed a toe, kicked a rock, but never fell. Like a boss.

Thanks to some top-notch last minute planning from Zanna, we ended up setting up at the Skokomish park campground on Cushman Lake. It’s about a 20 minute drive from the Ellinor trailhead, and since we didn’t want to drive there and back from Seattle in a day, we camped out! I hadn’t spent a night out since December, so it was a very welcome mini-vacation.

Rocky trail curving around a corner

We got to the campground at night, where Zanna had already set up with Benny (her dog). I had my first taste of freeze-dried food (Santa Fe Chicken and Rice by Backpackers’ Pantry) which was surprisingly decent. I’d have it again. I also have some Chicken Vindaloo for next time, and have heard that the Stroganoff, Chana Masala, and Alfredo packages are pretty good too. I’ll have to experiment.

Zanna looking over our camp setup

Rather than pitch a tent, the forecast was looking clear so I went for the hammock. Sleeping bag and pad inside bivy (just in case) in hammock, and I was sound asleep within minutes. It took me a while to figure out how to sleep in a hammock when I got it two years ago. I’m still not very good at it, I think because I don’t like sleeping on my back. But on an easy trip, it’s fantastic. My hammock was a bit too angled this time around, which I’ll have to keep in mind for next time.

The pleasant forest trail (taken on the way back)

Except for the five minutes around 2am when I woke up. Why did I wake up? Was it… oh, eerie, the wind just picked up. Was that the plink-plink of raindrops? Shit, come on, don’t rain now. How will the hammock hold up? Where’s the rain cover for the screen on my bivy bag? I’m too lazy and cozy to pack up and move into a tent. So I’ll just hope for the best. Luckily the drops lasted a few minutes and that was the closest run in I had. And it was warm enough that this time I didn’t wake up covered in frost like the last time I bivvied.

Snack break, looking over the Hood Canal

The lower trailhead is a 6.2 mile trip, whereas the upper is only 3 miles. But much steeper. We opted for the lower trailhead. The first two miles lured me into a false sense of security. The hike was so popular, I figured it couldn’t be that difficult. But as the flat, even trail stretched out, I started to worry that the last bit would be steep. The first two miles are through a peaceful, open green forest, on a soft dirt trail. Pleasant would be a good word for it. But don’t be fooled.

Puget sound, Glacier Peak and the Cascades

When the trail from the upper trailhead meets the main trail, that’s where the gain starts. At first you swtichback through a forest, and eventually you break out onto a rocky trail. A steep rocky trail. It was overcast, but you could still see the mountains. Amazing views of Rainier, Adams, St. Helens, even Glacier! And of course, if you look hard enough, you can see the skyscrapers of Seattle. Zanna asked a descending hiker how far we were from the top, and he responded “about a quarter mile, so maybe… half an hour?” You know what that means? That means damn steep! I was a happy hiker.

Encouraging rock left a quarter mile from the top

We followed the summer trail and essentially never hit snow. There was a ten-foot stretch of it just below the peak, but not enough to need any sort of traction. Once you’re on the peak, Mt. Washington is smack in your face, and you can even see Baker off in the distance. I wish I knew more of the Olympic peaks – I spend so little time over there, I haven’t learned any beyond being able to recognize a few looking over from Seattle.

Snacks while the true summit was too packed

The way down went much more quickly, but my knees suffered a bit. I was glad to have poles. Once back to the steady forest trail, it was glad to have a cool down to the workout and just stroll through the woods. We also left Benny’s leash along the trail by accident, and it was still there when we returned! We were thrilled no one took it. I didn’t think anyone would, but you never know.

Three hikers and a happy dog (true summit)

On the way back, we stopped at the same coffee place we went to for breakfast again, but this time to get ice cream. Highly recommended if you need a bite to eat. No idea what the name was, but it’s right at the corner of 101 and 119 across from the gas station! A little coffee shop that has sandwiches, ice cream, and quesadillas too. I went there after Townsend too, since Woody and Tanna recommended it – it’s the perfect reward for a hike!

Steep open slope about a half mile from the top

The slope might as well be a stair workout (very well maintained trail)

Strava map and link are both here. If you check the elevation map, you can see how much of it is in that last mile or so! Almost 2000ft gained over 1.2 miles. It’s not quite a scramble, just very steep. Maybe the last 15 feet of elevation could be a scramble, they’re pretty close. But if Benny doggie can make it, so can you!

Strava map

Overall, it’s a very pretty hike. A bit of a butt-buster towards the end, which is great if that’s what you’re into. I like working for my views, and I’m always willing to get my butt kicked.

Descending

Benny did a great job. I was worried about him slipping on the snowy sections, but he had no issues at all. He never even got tired, despite running with Zanna on her mountain bike for hours the day before. Bundle of energy, that guy. I had never actually hiked with a dog before, but he was easy and listened to Zanna very well. It must be nice having some company on every hike you do.

Trail run someday?

Anyway, I’ll definitely go back to repeat this hike. I bet it’s even more spectacular on a clear day when you can see Seattle and the volcanoes clearly. I hear great things about Mount Rose, too, which is another I’ll have to check out. And I bet Ellinor is even more amazing when the peaks are covered in snow. So much to do, and of course the forecast for the next two weeks looks like solid rain. Maybe winter is finally here!

Not my finest, but it had to happen

Have Tent, Will Travel

Trail running, mountaineering, and the occasional wipeout

Author Archives: evejakubowski

Mirror Lake

Eight Mile/Squire Creek Pass

Beckler Peak

Winchester Peak (almost)

Mount Washington

Navaho Peak (yes, with an H)

Lake Ingalls II

Boulder River

Mount Defiance (and Mason Lake on the way)

Mount Ellinor