Ruth Mountain

Posted on June 18, 2015 by evejakubowski

Working on my gaitor tan

Wow, this is the longest I’ve taken to make a post. In my defense, I picked up a second job, and the transition has been very time consuming. Not hard, not stressful, just lots of hours with few days off and very little time where I sit down and think great, I have three hours to make a blog post! Which is about how long I expect this one to take, because it was so freaking awesome. Ruth Mountain, hiked 6/5/2015.

Distance: 13 miles
Elevation: 4900ft gain (7115 highest point)
Weather: 70’s and sunny
Commute from Seattle: just under 3 hours without traffic
Did I Trip: Yes

It was my last off day before a potential 19 day streak of work (yes, I’d love some cheese with my whine) with no off days, not even a half day. So I had high hopes that it’d be a five star day, and hopefully leave me sore and tired enough that I’d spend at least two or three days not concerned with hiking and running. As usual, it did the opposite. I got down, wasn’t too sore, and spent the next three days freezing the 1990’s-era computers at REI on my breaks because I had too many summitpost pages open. Oops.

Ruth at the end of the valley

The day was off to a rough start. I was running a few minutes late because I realized I didn’t have snacks. “Hey guys, I’m gonna be 5 minutes late – stopping at QFC!” to which Brian replied “no worries” and Kyle 15 minutes later “yeah… I’m going to be a lot later than that.” Okay, so I woke everyone up with my “5 minutes late” text. Great. I got to Brian’s, parallel parked my truck like a pro, had some frosted flakes, and waited another 45 minutes for Kyle. Finally we got on the road around 7. Ruth wasn’t that hefty of a day, so I wasn’t too worried, and frosted flakes are surprisingly delicious.

The drive was overall uneventful, except for the part when I heard a big sigh followed by an explosive f-bomb come from the passenger seat. I asked what was wrong. “Guys…” What could possibly go wrong? What’d you forget. A beer? Snacks? Your phone? “Guys I forgot my boots.”

I should have braked immediately and pulled over for dramatic effect but instead I cracked up. Kyle forgot his boots. On a peak we were planning on using mountaineering boots and crampons. Well I had a few hiking shoes and trail runners in the trunk at least (it’s turning into a mini hiking closet due to the abject lack of space in my apartment), and we had Brian pass them forward one at a time so Kyle could see if he could cram his foot into them. No dice. We figured we’d improvise, we were already two hours away and not turning around to get boots.

Starting off through the valley

The road to the trailhead was not nearly as bad as we expected. WTA.org had “ROAD CLOSED” in big red letters, but the washout was very small and plenty of low clearance vehicles had made it. While unloading, we ran into a friendly group of hikers, one of whom lent Kyle his trail runners. They were a step up from mine because at least they were men’s, and better to go too big than too small, but they were huge. Like two sizes too big. Okay, we’ll see how it goes.

I had Brian pick through my bag to tell me how I was overpacking. You mean I don’t need three liters of water? Or waterproof clothing head to toe? I know I’m only going to eat one avocado probably but what if I’m hungry enough for the second? I should probably bring the whole box of wheat thins too. At least I left my second puffy layer at home! After abandoning some of the food and water and extra layers, my pack was actually pretty light, and we got moving. I wore my mountaineering boots for the whole hike, and tossed some barefoot trail runners in there just in case.

Wildflowers and a river and Ruth way in the background

The trail is very pleasant for the first four miles. WAIT, I kid. Nettles! Effing nettles! I had never seen nettles before, or felt them, and I got demolished by them. Legs, hands, it’s like being stung by a million tiny bees except it only lasts for 30-60 seconds. But that didn’t stop me from bitching. Ignoring the nettles, the beginning of the hike is great. Pretty flat, amazing greenery and wildflowers, views of Sefrit peak and ridge, with Ruth way off in the backdrop and a creek running through the valley. We stopped to take pictures pretty frequently. Plenty of small creeks across the trail, reassuring me that leaving behind the extra two liters of water was probably a fine decision.

Hannegan pass came up quickly, and we stopped for a quick snack before heading to the right. We hiked over a small knoll and then fought through half melted-out creek beds and bushes up to a plateau beneath a high point. I left arrows in the snow for Kyle just in case, who was behind us since he had to run back and get the camera he forgot at our snack spot.

Traversing the dicey slope

We rejoined at the plateau (the only part of the trail where you got a glimpse of Baker) and pulled out the map to double check where we were heading. The route wrapped around the back of a small peak (you might have been able to go up and over but it looked like a lot of time and effort) and then followed the ridge up to the true summit, so we started across. The slope we traversed wasn’t long, but it was steep. If you fell more than 20ft, you’d hit an exposed, rocky slope that ended in a cliff, so… don’t fall. Kyle decided to wait for us at the plateau, since he didn’t trust his footwear and of course we didn’t know how tricky the route would be once we were on the ridge. The beta I got before this trip all came from a guy who wore trail runners to the top, but at least his weren’t two inches too long for his feet. And I gotta say, going up there I have no idea how the previous guy did it. I mean sure you didn’t need stiff boots or crampons, but they were nice to have, and I like having toasty dry feet.

Rejoining the ridge

Fortunately, after that slope, the rest of the route was clear sailing. We joined up with the ridge on the other side, where some parts of the trail were even melted out! From the base of the snow fields, it just felt like a steep hike. There is a glacier, but this early in the season, there were no crevasses to contend with. If you drop lower on the route (especially later in the season), it sounds like you’ll probably want to rope up. We took turns breaking trail, and eventually put on crampons. The snow was soft enough that they weren’t necessary, but I could feel the difference they made. But euuuuughh, I forgot how awful they feel on rocks. Scraping like nails on a chalkboard. Yuck.

I can pretend it’s a knife edge right?

At points, the ridge turned into a mini knife edge before climbing steeply, and it was one of those hikes where you have to try to not be distracted by the ridiculous views around you. I have to thank Brian for not complaining when I stopped to try and get pictures of him every five minutes. There’s too much to see! You’re standing on a snowfield but it’s 70 degrees outside and you’re surrounded by snowy peaks in every direction and contoured snow sculpted by the wind and so quiet and serene that you almost don’t even want to speak.

We were heading up to the rock (if you’ve been there, you know the one I’m talking about) and cut to the right of it. We weren’t sure whether the snow cap near the rock was the true summit or not. It seemed too easy, it couldn’t be that close. Cresting it, we realized we did indeed have a bit more vertical gain ahead of us, and five minutes later, we were on the summit!

Almost there!

Part of the summit was melted out, and some rocks had been piled up in small bivvy style shelters to protect from the wind. Wait, how is that the first thing that comes to mind? The views! Shuksan! Holy crap, Shuksan looked unbelievable. You rarely see it from such a great angle. Glaciers cascading, and a nice rocky cirque leading up to the peak. To the left is Icy Peak, a traverse commonly done from Ruth. A climb I’d love to do someday, but not when my buddy is waiting at the bottom of the trail. Glimpses of the north end of the Picket range (I’m obsessed) and of course, hundreds of peaks I didn’t recognize. And if you turn around, you have lush green valleys backed by Church and Goat mountains. Ridiculous. I used to say I’d prefer to go blind than deaf (I mean neither are ideal okay) but now… now I’m debating that.

Mt. Shuksan from the top of Ruth

Icy Peak with Blum in the background from Ruth

We spent half an hour or so taking a power nap (five star nap on a five star day with five star views) on the summit, and I managed to grab a time lapse and plenty of snacks and pictures. The summit register’s pen was dead! And there was only one sad little piece of paper. We finally got up to head down, and started off back towards Hannegan Pass.

On our way back down the snow field, we passed the group who had given Kyle the pair of shoes. We stopped to chat, and someone asked if we had made the arrows in the snow. I had completely forgotten! They laughed and thanked us, saying it was a confidence boost every time they came across one.

Heading along the ridge

We got back down to Hannegan Pass, and Kyle was nowhere to be found so we figured (hoped? We knew he could take care of himself and we had left him on safe ground so we weren’t too worried) he was back at the car. We knew the last four miles were fairly flat, so it should be a quick return trip. Brian turned to me and asked if I wanted to slow-jog the rest of the way back to speed things up a bit. I looked down at my chunky Nepal Evos, shrugged, and thought hell, if I can run in these boots then I shouldn’t have any issues climbing in them. So let’s give it a shot.

Jogging back along the flat trail

And we jogged the remaining four miles. I felt ridiculous, but it was beautiful and efficient and reminded me why I like trail running. The only thing that went wrong with the boots was that they untied about a mile from the end of the trail. I have to say, that was the LAST issue I expected to have running in fully insulated mountaineering boots. I thought everything else would go wrong first. Hot feet, shin bang, blisters, nope. Just untied laces. So I stooped to retie them, grabbed a drink from a nearby stream, and caught up with Brian and Kyle back at the trailhead.

We spent some time chilling by the river (which was a little sandy! Who knew!) to cool off and relax before the drive home. On the way back, we stopped at a the North Fork Brewery to get drinks and pizza, which were both delicious. I’d recommend the Thai pizza. It seems like a weird combo, but I think it was the best of the three that we got. And naturally we had to finish all of the pizzas.

Glimpse of Baker in the clouds

Oh, and then it turned out someone had left my trunk open for our entire dinner meal. Ironic, because as I was walking in I saw a Subaru with an open trunk and thought “wow, people are so trusting out here!” and upon getting back to my car, there was the wide open trunk with thousands of dollars worth of mountaineering gear. But nothing was taken! Unbelievable.

Peaks to the west of Ruth I don’t recognize

Damn, this was a great hike. Photos never do it justice. Strava map here if you want to see our route. Also, I want to give a shout out to Kurt Smith, one of the guys who offered Kyle his shoes. He’s got some breathtaking photos from Ruth (and a bunch of others in general). Here’s his blog, go check it out!

I’d love to go back here and do the Icy traverse. The whole area is just spectacular. It’s a bit of a drive from Seattle, but every time I’ve gone up north it’s been completely worth it. Unfortunately, I wasn’t sore enough to take my mind off hiking the next day. As usual, it had the opposite effect. Where do I go next? What peaks are like Ruth, mostly snow climbs where I can leave the crevasse gear behind but feel like I’m in a totally alpine place? This is why I moved out here.

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.

Artist Point Snowshoe

Posted on January 13, 2015 by evejakubowski

I just realized this was my first hike/snowshoe since the beginning of the new year! And what a way to bring it in. 1/6/2015. I’ve been slacking on the hikes because I’ve had so many days at work (retail paychecks are… not generous) but I managed to squeeze in a few. Apparently I’m lucky that this is my first winter here – plenty of nice days and not too much rain. Even as I sit here a week later, we’re talking sunny, blue skies and incredible sunsets.

Anyway, Artist Point!

Lee traversing a knoll with Shuksan in the background

Distance: 5.5 miles round trip
Elevation: 1200ft gain, 5200ft highest point
Weather: 40’s and overcast
Commute from Seattle: Almost 3 hours
Did I Trip: Yes, I post-holed and tripped over a treetop that was buried beneath the snow. Elegantly (not)

So this was my day off, if you ignore the clinics we had to go to at 8am. Lee and I had plans to hike afterwards, and I was thinking we’d do something short out by Snoqualmie. Checking the weather during clinics, it was supposed to be clear, and I just couldn’t bear wasting a clear day on freaking i90. Luckily, we were both free all day, and Lee was game to do anything. We stopped at a cute little scooby-doo-van-coffee-shop near the REI parking lot (Carabiner Coffee) and we were on our way. The plan was to drive north on i5 and see how the views were. If it was cloudy, we’d head to something off Rt 2 or Mountain Loop. If Baker was out… well, we’d go to Baker.

I’m glad I’m at this point with my Cascades knowledge. I can pick a highway and just immediately know 10 hikes and how accessible they’ll be and whether they’ll be worth it on a given day. Spring/summer are going to be amazing knowing what I know now. So we’re 30 miles up i5 when we turn a corner, and… [cue angelic music] BAM. BAKER. LEE! LEE WE’RE GOING TO BAKER! She was down to listen to my impulsive decision, and we readjusted our seats ready for another two hours in the car.

Shuksan over Picture Lake

It wasn’t “sunny” per se, just the type of clouds where they’re high enough that you can still see the peaks. And that’s all I’ll ask for up here. We pulled into the Heather Meadows parking lot (the same lot we camped in before Yellow Aster Butte) around noon, after stopping to ask for directions since we had no cell service and realized we had no idea to park. We drove past Picture Lake, and when Shuksan came into view I made us pull over to take a picture. Unlike last time I was here, we could actually see the top of Shuksan! So technically, this was my first time up close and personal with the mountain that I’ll be climbing in August.

We hopped out of the car and started organizing our stuff. Snowshoes, gaiters, waterproof pants, gloves, Lee’s new GoPro. We ran into a couple dragging their kid around on a sled, and a few snowboarders that quickly disappeared. We strapped on our snowshoes and headed south towards the ridge, starting out on the path to the left of the bathroom.

Avalanche debris wiped out some trail markers

At first the trail follows the road, which is clear in the summer but buried in snow by this time of year. It was very well groomed, which made snowshoeing easy. The road splits after 10 minutes or so, and we went in completely the wrong direction at first – until we hit a bunch of avalanche debris and turned around. I wasn’t sure we’d even make it to Artist Point until we got back to the fork in the road, and realized we should have gone right, not left. Left led to some slopes marked with a skull and crossbones on the map – avalanche territory! Right leads to the border of the ski area. Once you cross the border, you’re in the backcountry, and responsible for yourselves.

Looking at Shuksan over some avy debris in the backcountry

Once off the groomed road, we stayed on some old tracks that also followed the trip reports we had pulled up from wta.org. Yay, consistency! Usually everyone and their mom does this snowshoe on a bright day, but being a Tuesday, we only saw 5 or 6 others total. Which is what I like. Solitude.

At first it was relatively flat, but there were a few sections that skirted avalanche slopes. Slopes that had already avalanched once or twice, but the path at the bottom was wide enough that most of the flows hadn’t reached across. We knew the avalanche forecast was low risk, so we continued on, but kept our distance when possible and went quickly when we were worried. Later on, we met a group of three who said they had personally triggered several of the avalanches we had seen. That’s how avalanches work – out here on the lower slopes, it’s rare to have a random one. The majority are human-triggered.

The summer bathroom!

Eventually the path caught up with the road again, and followed it as it switched back up the ridge. This was another area where we’d keep as close to the edge (ironically) as possible in case the slope next to us decided to shed some snow. For all of our efforts, we did not see a single avalanche in action. Once the road is done switchbacking, you trek across a field to where there is a bathroom! Or at least, in the summer there’s a bathroom. This time of year, we could only see the peak of the roof, and this has been a low snow year.

Me and Lee in front of Shuksan

We had the other group of snowshoers snag a quick photo of us with Shuksan in the background. “SHE SAID IT! Did you hear it that’s how you say it!” The three of them didn’t know how to say “Shuksan.” Lee was equally new – “Wait, where’s Baker?” Oh, it’s just the other huge mountain that’s not Shuksan. Easy to miss! (…not) We decided to head farther along the ridge to a higher knoll to see if we could get a good glimpse of the sky behind Mt. Baker. Poor Baker gets no love from me. Even if it’s taller than Shuksan (10,781ft vs 9,131ft) I just think Shuksan is such a gorgeous mountain. But this time, we could glimpse that the sky behind Baker was lit up yellow even through the clouds, and we had to take a look.

Sun peeking through behind Baker

We got up to the third knoll quickly considering that even in snowshoes we were sinking 18 inches deep in snow. Thank god for gaiters. And there, with Shuksan to one side and Baker to the other, we had tea and snacks. Oat bars, chocolate, honey, passionfruit tea… I wasn’t even hungry but eating felt like the right thing to do. I was in heaven. Especially considering that just an hour and a half prior, I had been worried we wouldn’t even make it to the ridge and get to see Baker.

Snowshoe yoga

Post-snacks we did some snowshoe yoga, and started to head back down. We had to beat sunset. But I swear, someday I’m going to go back there and camp on that knoll looking at Baker and Shuksan, and I’ll get an awesome picture of my tent glowing beneath the Milky Way, which is spectacular from that area.

Heading back down, avy slope on the left, safety on the right…almost

Okay, when you aren’t looking at Baker and Shuksan, you still have a beautiful view of lower snow-capped peaks.

The non-Shuksan-Baker views as the sun set behind us. Still good!

Really, every direction is phenomenal. As sad as I was to leave, I was thrilled that we had managed to get there. I had been waiting to do this snowshoe for ages – it’s short, easy, and unbelievably scenic. I’m used to my favorite hikes being very remote and difficult, but this is definitely up there. As long as you find a day without crowds, it’ll be incredible. I don’t think I’d have enjoyed it nearly as much if I had been there on a crowded weekend, but this timing was perfect. You can see the ski resort for the first two miles of the hike as well, so you’re very close to civilization. But once you come over the ridge and it disappears from view, it’s easy to pretend you’re in the middle of the wilderness. The other aspect of this snowshoe that was great is that it was a perfect opportunity for us to navigate easy avalanche terrain. The slopes along the path are obvious, you’re close to other people, and it’s easy to avoid the dangerous zones while still feeling like you’re being edgy. Perfect for learners to run around trying to pick out which slopes would be risky and which wouldn’t and debating why.

Lee laying in defeat after her backwards slow-mo fall

Oh, did I mention Lee fell on her ass? Backwards down a snow drift. Her excuse is that walking backwards in snowshoes is hard. Okay, it’s true, but that doesn’t make it more graceful. At least she had a scenic backdrop.

The pic just before Lee fell

I was originally aiming to get a photo of her in front of Shuksan (I don’t know, do you think I have enough pictures of Shuksan? Maybe just a few more) before she tripped. I guess I’ll include the photo, why not.

Anyway, next time you see me talking about this snowshoe, it better be because I snow-camped there. And you’ll get another 20 pictures of Shuksan. Wait until I’m actually ON Shuksan. Oh god. Get ready.

One more – trekking towards Shuksan on one of the road’s switchbacks

Yellow Aster Butte

Posted on October 28, 2014 by evejakubowski

Look guys, I have friends! First blog post centered around a hike that actually involves other people. I’m way overdue (this was hiked 10/18/2014, over a week ago) but since I didn’t hike much last week I didn’t want to use up all of my content in two days.

Distance: 7.5 miles round trip
Elevation: 2550ft gain
Weather: 50’s and mostly cloudy, effing freezing at the top
Commute from Seattle: 2 and a half hours
Did I Trip: No. Maybe uphill once.

Shuksan over Picture Lake

So I thought we’d be driving out Saturday, hiking out to a campsite, and camping somewhere beautiful, but I was wrong. We didn’t arrive until after dark, so we set up camp in a lovely parking lot (Bagley Lakes/Chain Lakes trailhead) next to an outhouse. How luxurious. We were near Picture Lake and had a great view of Shuksan at least, so that was nice. And we could make a bonfire without concern, which we did to cook dinner. The next morning, I woke up to the entire side of the tent glowing pink, and assuming there was a beautiful sunrise, I leapt out of my sleeping bag and ran out of the tent to see Shuksan lighting up in the sun. But classic northwest, it was just a weird hold in the clouds that lasted about 45 seconds before being covered up again. Shuksan was still looking majestic, but I have yet to see its peak.

Huckleberries!

It was another half hour or so to the Yellow Aster trailhead, which had the worst outhouse I have ever seen. You could smell it from 50 feet away. Hold your breath past that, and the rest of the hike is gorgeous. It starts switchbacking up the meadow, then the woods, and as soon as you pop out of the woods, huckleberries everywhere! The biggest, sweetest juiciest huckleberries I have ever had in my life. I was surprised they were still there in October. The trail was open to hunting (we did meet a few hunters) but I saw nothing even resembling wildlife, and apparently the bears are missing out on the berries.

Views of Shuksan were beautiful, even if we couldn’t see the peak through the clouds. Fall foliage was still everywhere, despite it being late October, and we lucked out because apparently the end of the road is already closed because of snow. From the top you could see Mt. Baker as well, and I imagine the views are insane on a clear day. The trail was well maintained, no tricky crossings or anything like that, and not too steep until the very end. The first summit is a false summit, and you have to hike down a bit and along a ridge to get to the real summit, which unfortunately my friends weren’t too keen on pursuing. One was wearing a t shirt and jeans (I don’t know how he wasn’t freezing), and it was freezing cold at the top with wind around 30mph (gusts up to 40mph) according to a few trip reports. I had on four jackets, one of which was windproof, thank god. Next time, when I go on a clear day, we’ll be getting across to the real summit.

Sun and berries

On the way back down, we had some patchy sun and more berries! I do think most of the trail would be runnable if you don’t mind heights and ridge lines, because it was pretty gradual and scenic besides that last push to the top.I’m actually not sure where we would have camped. I wasn’t looking very hard, but there weren’t any obvious sites, and we would have had to find somewhere out of the biting wind. There’s a lake on the other side of a pass that you can reach from the same trailhead, so that might have made for a good campsite and extra hike. I didn’t get as many pictures as I wanted to (friends are distracting, who knew) but at least I’ve got the most important pieces, which are berries and views.

Mt. Shuksan got all of my attention (sorry Baker) because I’m dying to climb it next summer. I don’t know why it appeals to me over Baker. It’s pretty short (only 9131ft) but is supposed to be incredibly scenic. Looking back, I didn’t even get Baker in a panorama. It wasn’t as visible as Shuksan either, but again, on a clear day… I bet it’s amazing. Anyway, the sun came out for brief periods of time, but those damn blue patches never centered over Shuksan or Baker. Next time!

Panorama from the false summit (Shuksan on the right, Baker off to the right outside the frame)

Have Tent, Will Travel

Trail running, mountaineering, and the occasional wipeout

Category Archives: Mount Baker Highway

Ruth Mountain

Winchester Peak (almost)

Artist Point Snowshoe

Yellow Aster Butte