Mt. Ellinor Winter Route

Posted on March 7, 2022 by evejakubowski

Amazingly, I’ve been here 8 years at this point and still hadn’t done Ellinor in the winter. Well, I did it in March 2015 but that didn’t count as winter because 2015 had zero snow. In fact, we took the summer trail the whole way to the summit, and not once did we hit snow.

This was different. We couldn’t even get to the trailhead. But let me back up a sec. First I woke up. Then I made pancakes with pancake mix that expired in 2019. Seemed good. I dumped some maple syrup in there, double bagged them, and stuffed them in my pack as hiking snacks. Met AJ and Jamie in Tacoma, and we were off towards the Ellinor trailhead on a brilliantly sunny Friday with AJ as the dedicated driver in Jamie’s dear car. The forecast was for like 12 degrees and windy (but sunny). So I had four jackets, a balaclava, expedition weight long underwear paired with ice climbing pants covered by goretex shell pants, you get the idea. I was ready for head down, fight through the cold, tag summit, and bail.

Distance: ~8mi (7 since we got a ride)
Elevation: ~3000ft gain, 5944ft highest point
Weather: 30’s and sunny
Commute from Seattle: 2:30ish
Did I Trip: I don’t think so! Am I getting more nimble?

We parked ~2mi from the lower trailhead before a big patch of snow that’s most definitely gone by now and got packed, resigned to walking the rest of the way. Left snowshoes behind (thank god), brought crampons and microspikes. 200ft from the car, a miracle pickup truck pulled up. Holy shit. Does he… do you think he’d give us a ride? “You know you’re still pretty far from the trailhead… do you want a ride?” We whooped and jumped in the bed. Manual transmission for sure which I have a soft spot for as one of the seemingly few people in the US still driving manual. Clearly knew how to handle his truck on snow (despite no snow tires). He dropped us about a mile from the trailhead when the road was consistently covered in several feet of snow, and we started walking. Things were going TOO smoothly. Suspiciously well for a winter route.

The trail was snow free all the way to the junction with the upper trailhead. I was raving about the scenery within 200ft of starting the trail. It’s just incredibly well maintained and cuts through extremely pleasant forest! I don’t know how else to put it. Just really beautiful. And yet I only took one picture. AJ said Ellinor in winter was a treat but I still underestimated it. And it was warm! I was hilariously overdressed, but I was so relieved that it wasn’t the opposite.

Once you hit the junction with the upper trailhead, the trail gets more serious. Switchbacks, elevation gain, and snow started. We put on microspikes. We were cruising, split off from the summer trail to follow the winter route, and suddenly we were at the base of the famous chute. And damn it looked looong and steep from where we were standing.

We decided to stick with microspikes. The snow was soft, traction had been good, I didn’t see a need for crampons. Until we were about halfway up the chute, and the snowpack turned to 1″ of slush on top of blue ice with no steps kicked prior, no staircase, just us and a snow slope. With our best pseudo french technique and some hilarious borderline crawling with axes we made it to the top and immediately switched to crampons. No one ever said the alpine was graceful all the time. I snapped a few pics of another hiker, Gregg, coming up the chute. I was stoked to share them with him until I realized my finger was in the way of every. Single. Picture. Sorry Gregg. If you’re out there.

Jamie and AJ nearing the top of the chute

Once you’re at the top of the chute and standing in the lower basin, don’t get too comfy, because you still have two slopes to climb. Head left and up the wide slope in front of you, and once you’ve crested that, you’ll be elated to find yet another steep slope. We went straight up this final one, but it was even more icy, and the main trail wrapped around to the west and came back up the ridge to the true summit.

The summit was a party! Lots of people. Jamie and I sat down and immediately started eating. No words. I thought I would eat like 3 pancakes but I ended up eating all 8. AJ crested as we were snacking and started laughing. Apparently Jamie’s default state is snacking. It makes sense, she’s wicked fast and that speed has to be powered by something. Seems to be some combo of bird food and jalapeno potato chips. My default state of being is wanting a burger. Or mac n cheese.

AJ with Adams and the Sound in the background

We snapped photos, I did my whole dental hygiene routine for my stupid invisalign, and we started back down. Need to start getting action shots of tooth brushing so I can make a list of the 10 most scenic places in WA to brush your teeth. Our ride to the trailhead announced he was headed down and would be happy to shuttle anyone who needed it back past the snow to our cars, so that meant it was time for us to head down too. Even though we knew he’d probably beat us back. We did pass two skiiers and I was maybe 4/10 jealous.

The first two slopes went quickly, and soon enough we were back at the top of the chute. AJ went first followed by Jamie followed by me, agreeing to spread out a bit so if one of us wiped out we wouldn’t take the others out with us. And soon enough, AJ wiped out. In slow motion. Extremely slow motion. Sliding off into the distance, seemingly resigned to his mildly controlled slide. The main threat was a tree which he dodged. Soon I couldn’t see him over a knoll in front of me. I looked at Jamie. It felt like it had been two minutes of silence. “Is he… is he still going?” “Yep.” He’s shouting IT’S FINE I’M FINE and we see him come to a stop some 150ft below us. He popped up and reiterated he was totally fine. Well he’s in one piece, that’s good, we’ll see how he feels in 20 minutes when we’re finally down to him. He took the efficient route.

We caught up to him after some careful side stepping (impossible to plunge step because of that damn blue ice). My envy of the skiiers jumped to 6/10. And then it was alternating glissading with more side stepping. Another party glissaded by us shouting “LIFE PRO TIP NEVER GLISSADE IN CRAMPONS” as their disclaimer for glissading in crampons. (EDIT: I later learned this was an unintentional glissade! He was not the only one!) We soon hopped in his glissade track to follow, and we were back at the base of the chute switching from crampons back to microspikes. I swear the chute was longer going down than going up.

We headed back through the trees in dappled sunlight, back through the green forest. This hike has such clear sections. Road walk, forest, chute, basin, ramps to summit, each with its own character. We leapfrogged one of the other groups that had come up from an even lower trailhead (there’s the upper trailhead, the lower trailhead, and an even lower trailhead by the Big Creek campground). We went our separate ways when the trail split, and it was just us cruising back to the traditional lower trailhead. AJ pointed out we parallelled the road for like a mile on the trail. He is right.

When we got back to bare road, our good samaritan pickup driver was long gone. I was hoping we weren’t that far behind him, but walking another mile wasn’t the worst. It was sunny, we had good company, what’s another 20min of trekking.

Back at the car, we celebrated how ridiculously smooth the hike had been, laughed and debriefed on AJ’s slide, and decided we were definitely stopping at the burger place on the way back. In Hoodsport. I think it’s just called Burger Stand. But it’s run by this lone asian guy with awesome options like a bulgogi burger, a hawaiian burger, a kimchi burger… I got the hawaiian burger (basically a burger with grilled pineapple) with jalapeno added, and it was insanely delicious. HEAR ME OUT this isn’t like hawaiian pizza. It’s more like having a slice of pineapple on a taco. Like the tacos at Tacos Chukis. If you like those, you definitely need to try this burger. And if you don’t like those tacos… fight me, you have no taste.

We made it back to Tacoma in time for AJ to get to work (starting at 7pm!) and in time for Jamie and I to hit traffic heading back north. I thought I could be clever and skirt i5 but it uh didn’t go as planned and I got lost but I think I experienced the “tacoma smell” for the first time so that counts for something?

Awesome company, awesome peak, highly recommend Ellinor in winter. It’s a huge bang-for-your-buck destination in the right conditions. I looked back at my 2015 trip report and it was pretty cloudy, glad I got to experience the full scenery. I think we saw all five major volcanoes – Baker, Glacier, Rainier, Adams, St. Helens. No Hood though. And here’s to hoping we get out on a few more adventures together!! I swear I’ll bring better snacks to share in the future. Actually the pancakes were good snacks I just wasn’t up to sharing, apparently. So I’ll be more.. generous in the future.

Royal Basin & Mt. Deception

Posted on July 22, 2019 by evejakubowski

Anita coming around a glacier boulder, Deception on the right

Wildlife by Royal Lake

Hooooly crap, this was a good one. You know sometimes everything just falls into place last minute and your mildly half-assed plans actually work out? That’s what this was. Like 24 hours in advance Anita mentioned she was going to Royal Basin, which I had always wanted to do as a trail run. And some dude had done Mt. Deception earlier that week, so I knew it was in decent shape. And that would be a cool day trip too. Maybe I could run up early in the morning, meet her, and climb Deception? She was stoked when I suggested it, and I decided I’d head up late Sunday night after Marmot Pass/Buckhorn and camp with them so we could get an early start. “What are you wearing?” she asked. “Some yuppie lululemon outfit” I responded. My climbing pants have a 6″ hole in the butt [insert asshole joke]. “No, I mean for boots!” Oh, duh. A real gear question.

Distance: 20mi ish
Elevation: 5500ft (also ish, highest point 7,788ft)
Weather: 50’s and partly cloudy
Commute from Seattle: 2:30 without traffic or ferry delays (ha!)
Did I Trip: No, I’ve gotten very good at walking

Flat beautiful trail to Royal Basin

Mt. Deception is the second highest point in the Olympics, which I didn’t know until we were done climbing it. It is one of the largest piles of chossy shit I have ever had the pleasure of touching, and it was mostly covered in snow when we did it. I have strong feelings about this. I would not have enjoyed it if it hadn’t been snow covered. But snow meant some steep snow, some 3rd class scrambling, and a more mountaineery-feeling experience than had we struggled up a one-step-up-slide-half-step-back-god-damn-scree climb.

Anyway, let’s not get ahead of ourselves here. I had driven from the Marmot Pass trailhead to the Royal Basin trailhead and was rallying to knock out another 8 miles and meet Anita and Zee at their campsite. I assumed the trail would be flat soft dirt, easy cruising. I had also assumed that the Marmot Pass trail was one mile down the road from the Royal Basin trail.

Royal Lake with mist in the morning

I was wrong on both counts. There is a Marmot Pass trail close to the Royal Basin trail, but it is not the trail I had taken to get to Marmot Pass. And as for the Royal Basin Trail once I did get there, well… the first two miles were nice soft flat easy cruising, and particularly beautiful in the dappled afternoon sunlight. But after that it’s rocky, uphill, sometimes overgrown, there are mosquitos, devil’s club, spiderwebs to fight through (you know how I feel about that – spiders fine, webs nooooo), and a surprising amount of elevation gain, though usually gradual. And carrying an overnight pack still isn’t pleasant, especially when you did a 13mi hike right before it, and I was not too enthused every time I rounded a corner only to see more uphill, or opened up the map only to see I was somehow only 500ft closer than the last time I checked. Views finally started to open up and I got glimpses of Deception. Shit, I’m going up that? It’s sooooo far.

This used to be a lake! Heading to the Upper Basin

But I was making good time, and soon enough I heard two hikers. And one voice sounded familiar. Same accent, same tone, a guy dragging behind her… that’s gotta be Anita. I jogged up to Zee and said hi, just as Anita turned around and saw me. And we had a nice running hugging reunion, we hadn’t seen each other in months and holy shit I was so happy to have company for the last mile of the hike so it wasn’t me vs. my mind for another half an hour. And it guaranteed I would find their campsite and not be walking up to random tents in the dark “are YOU Anita?” “are YOUUUU Anita?” “Is ANITA in there?” and blinding everyone with headlamps while I stumbled around exhausted about to give up (which may have happened before).

Upper Royal Basin

We found a great campsite just northeast of the lake. I crashed in my bivvy almost immediately (after panicking at two things: the recently updated forecast, which showed overnight showers – not great for a non-waterproof bivvy and down sleeping bag and the bear poop like 15ft away and I was between the poop and Anita’s tent, aka I’d be the first bear burrito that evening should the bears decide we smelled delicious). Eventually it didn’t matter because I was unconscious by like 8:30pm and if it did rain, I didn’t even notice.

We got moving around 8am. There is the alpine start (the offensively wee hours of the morn), the Anita start (mid hours of the morn but as late as possible), and the bonfire start (>11am). So 8 wasn’t ideal knowing we’d be slow, but I figured if we moved steadily we’d be fine. And it was partially on me and the fact it took me 20 freaking minutes to find the stupid pit toilets. Zee turned around on the way to the upper basin, and Anita and I continued. The basin is spectacular, almost like Enchantments lite. I can see why the permits are so competitive. That’s another thing, I got SO lucky. Anita had been fighting for permits for years, and here I am mooching off her hard work. And the main attraction over the basin is Deception towering over some small glacier tarns below a dying glacier. At the base of the slopes, we decided to take a rising traverse rather than risk the rockfall on the more direct route, so we started kicking steps uphill. And so it would be for the next few hours.

Anita on the way up

There were a few scree sections (“ugh, should I remove my crampons?” “Nope, back on snow in 50ft!”) a few loose third class scramble sections (“can i take my crampons off?” “No, back on snow in 20 ft!”) some steep snow (PERFECT conditions for bucket steps and a nicely plunged ice axe) some moats (there’s no way for them to not be awkward, would it help if we took off our crampons?) and a little more kitty litter scrambling (“can I take off my-” “no”) and we finally topped out at the col, marked with a stick to help differentiate from the myriad of other similar cols.

Here’s where the route was longer than expected. We dropped down some talus (loose, because this mountain is a crumbling POS, we’ve been over this) onto another dying glacier and traversed to the back ridge, where “can I take off my crampons” was finally answered with a resounding “YES!” and we rejoiced in the feeling of boot sole on rock instead of scraping metal. We traversed to a third ridge, which was a perfectly straight talus walk on top of the world followed by a short step of near vertical snow and a final talus walk (i’m so done with talus by this point) to the summit, where we sang and hollered and waved at Zee and marveled at the views. It truly was incredible. Long day of uphill, but high reward with the gorgeous scenery up there.

Pieces of steep snow

But we had to descend all of the shit we had come up. Getting back off the upper talus section was easy. Crossing the glacier on the north side was easy. Getting back up to the stick-marked col was easy. Then we had the only tricky part to contend with: downclimbing a few sections of pretty steep snow. Maybe 50 degrees. Face in, kick steps downclimbing. I kicked enormous steps for Anita, and luckily some cloud cover meant the snow wasn’t total slush. We actually made surprisingly good time, and these are the parts of climbs that are so singular, so focused, that everything else goes away. I had lingering stress from my old job and nerves around starting a new one, nerves around fitness after working weekends for so long, none of that matters when you’re on terrain like this.

Some 3rd class scramble

We even skirted most of the 3rd class scramble, with one awkward 4th class step either on a thin downward sloping slab or to hop across a moat back onto snow (pick your poison, I do think Anita’s route across the moat was better but I thought it looked sketchy from up high). From there, we cruised plunge stepping down moderate snow the entire way back to the basin after a short scree field! It was amazing! We found yaktrax prints at the bottom, I said I hope that’s Zee. Despite turning around earlier, it turned out he had rethought (almost went with “rethunk”) his decision, and gave it another shot. And I’m glad he did, the upper basin was phenomenal. We soon found goat hoof prints perfectly inside of the yak trax. They continued for maybe a mile, until we eventually found Zee, hiding in a patch of bushes from the goat that had been stalking him for literal hours. He did get an incredible picture when the goat got too close for comfort.

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Mr. Billy Goat (credit Zee!)

Coming across the north face

We made it back to camp around 4. Zee went to get water (THANK YOU! I was so tired I did not want to do camp chores) while Anita and I changed our shoes and laid around a groaned. When Zee hadn’t returned for 20 minutes, we started wondering what was up. Should we be worried? Is he taking a nap? Maybe we should go look. And then we saw Mr. Billy Goat walk across the trail again, slowly, starting at us. “Zee, the goat is back!” Anita shouted. And then we hear Zee’s deep grumbly voice. “…I know.” We burst out laughing. He couldn’t get away. It’s okay, Mr. Goat will be extradited to the Cascades any day now if he hasn’t been helo-dropped there already.

Anita coming along the final ridge

I hung out until 5, and then packed up my bags to start the slog back to the car. Anita gave me a brownie for the way out (THANK YOU! For feeding me! Everyone fed me this weekend!) and I started on my way, where I was immediately blocked by Mr. Goat. God. Dammit. I tossed a rock and whined. I just wanna go hooooome mr goat pleeeease let me pass! He eventually ambled over to the side of the trail and I darted past. Anita made a bet that I’d be back at the car by 7:30. I thought 8. But she had given me a goal, and I made it back at exactly 7:30. Even took a selfie to prove it.

One last push to the top! Mystery in the background

Huuuuuge thanks to Anita and Zee for adding me to their Olympics permit at the last minute, and to Ranger Scott for all of the phone calls trying to get my name on there (and my payment). Seriously amazing trip, and another data point that the Olympics are far more beautiful than I ever give them credit for. And I was the perfect amount of wrecked when I woke up back in Seattle on Tuesday. Just in time for a shit ton of programming homework that I had procrastinated on. Woohoo!

P.S. This would be a sweet trail run (maybe minus the chossy shit, like we discussed above. Wait for snow).

Olympus way in the distance, the highest point in the Olympics

Marmot Pass & Buckhorn Mountain

Posted on July 8, 2019 by evejakubowski

Wildflowers out in full force

Sedum!

Okay okay I know this is wildly overdue and I’m mostly posting it because I love the pictures but also because it’s one of the biggest bang-for-your-buck hikes out here if you’re okay with the mileage. I took a week of funemployment between jobs to try and shake the burnout, and this was the start of it. There was only one downside. It’s been weeks and I’m still not sure this trip was worth the traffic jam trying to escape Seattle. 99 south? Narrowed to one lane. 99 north? One lane. Oh, and an accident. That means 45th and 50th were both at a standstill, because those feed onto 99. I-5 south? Accidents, plural. I-5 North? I don’t know, because I never made it that far. After nearly an hour trying to get more than 10 blocks from my apartment, I gave up and drove through Ballard, then through downtown, then to I-5 south because getting to the ferry was supposedly an hour longer. Good lord. It’s a bummer I’ll never be rich enough to get helo-extracted from my own neighborhood and plopped in the mountains.

Distance: ~13 miles
Elevation: ~4,000ft (6,988ft highest point)
Weather: 60’s and sunny
Commute from Seattle: 2:30 regardless of driving down and around or ferry
Did I Trip: No but Amber tripped enough for all of us

Brook by the last campsite

I made it to the trailhead after maybe a 4hr drive. I had been planning on doing Marmot Pass/Buckhorn mountain, and Amber and Andy would meet me later to trailhead camp. I just wanted to be not in the city, so I left early and read my book in my sleeping bag waiting for them. Andy was dogsitting Rudy, an adorable Australian Shepherd I figured would love a good hike. I don’t want to commit to a pet just yet, but I do like other people’s pets, and Rudy was a bad ass. And I love taking pictures of people’s cute dogs being bad asses.

Amber got a head start around 5am, Andy and I started around 6 (not like I gained that much extra sleep, though I do remember watching Amber’s calves walk off into the distance). The first few miles are pleasant forest, starting with wild rhodondrons and thinning out as you gain elevation on a mild incline (great for running). Rudy was perfect at staying on trail and walking right in front of us the whole time, with no interest in whatever was off trail in the woods. Which was a relief, you never know if they’re going to be tugging trying to dart off into the brush the whole time. But Rudy was content to trot alongside us the whole time like he was checking in on Andy to make sure his human was okay, and carrying the occasional small stick like a proud trophy hunter.

Marmot Pass

Finally you start getting breaks along alpine meadows, with wildflowers scattered across the hillside. And succulents!! I had just planted several species of sedum in my garden, and here they were in the wild! Turns out they’re very common on lower elevation rocks and cliffs in the Olympics. I had no idea, I always considered the Olympics mossy and jungley and there I was staring at older, thriving versions of what I was (and still am) desperately trying to keep alive in my garden. The last area with running water is a campsite around 5 miles up the trail, where we all refilled and gave Rudy (secretly a mountain dog, given how happy he seemed the entire time) a good drink before continuing on.

Rudy on the way up to Buckhorn

At Marmot Pass, the views opened up for real. It’s amazing and I want to run every single loop around that valley. The trails are nicely graded and just cruise along open rolling ridges, it looked incredible. We took a quick break for more water and Amber fed me her snacks because I brought next to nothing. I had stuff, just not appetizing stuff like peppered salami and cheddar cheese. Andy, Rudy and I went right at the pass and continued up some annoyingly steep scree (there’s a boot path for most of it but it doesn’t help with the kitty litter situation) to a broad, open ridge that we followed to Buckhorn. At first it looks like the east side (think Vantage or Ancient Lakes) and then it turns to reddish rock and starts to look like Mars. Someone had outlined a trail for the last section, probably to prevent people from taking random paths and eroding the hillside. The summit looks intimidating, but is almost entirely a hike with a single third class ish move where you might have to use your hands. We figured we’d play it by ear with Rudy and just bail if he wasn’t happy, but he basically led the way the entire time, skipping up the lone scramble move as if it didn’t exist.

Nicely lined trail below the summit

At the summit I hopped onto the summit boulder while Andy poured some water for Rudy and pampered him with treats while he lay in the shade. That dog freaking LOVES Andy. If Andy was more than 10 feet away and Rudy couldn’t follow he’d whine with his huge (adorable) puppy eyes and nothing could distract him. We didn’t want to leave Amber waiting for too long, so we didn’t spend long at the summit. Rudy had no trouble going right back down and had an easier time on the kitty litter than we did (we joke that dogs have four wheel drive given their four legs while us humans have to stumble around on two).

It was Father’s Day, and we ran into an older man cruising up the scree. We stopped to chat and he said his son and grandson were carrying his things, and we ran into them maybe 10 minutes later. Life goals, guys. Three generations of outdoors on one trail, and apparently the grandfather was a pretty legit climber in his prime. We could see Amber back at the pass, and whooped to let her know we were almost back. I forgot how far sound carries out there, she had been able to hear our entire conversation for almost the whole way. I don’t think we said anything embarrassing enough that the entire valley heard.

View back along the ridge from the summit

Back at the pass, Rudy jumped into some shade while we poured him some water and had our own snacks (or ate Amber’s superior snacks in my case because I am a child). We chatted with some trail runners (jealous) and some backpackers (jealous) and I nagged everyone to get started back to the car, because I had to get back early enough to not hate myself hiking up to Royal Basin that night to meet a new round of friends for a climb. Rudy led the way down yet again (endless source of energy) though his paws were a bit sore from the rocky sections and he was definitely happier on the soft dirt trail. They’re like people, they have to build callouses and get into shape too. We definitely felt bad, but that tail was still wagging. I get it. I’ll go have the best day of my life and my body will be wrecked for the next day or two. I wonder if dogs get endorphin rushes like people too.

Sweet campsite

I high tailed it to the Royal Basin trailhead as soon as I was back at my car. I had wildly miscalculated the distance between starting points, thinking the usual marmot pass trail was just down the road from the royal basin trail. True, sort of – there is a trail to marmot pass from that same road, but it was not the trail to marmot pass that we had hiked. Ooooops. But I’ll save that story for the next post! For now, huge thanks to Amber and Andy (and Rudy) for kicking my week of funemployment off to a great start!

A boy and his dog

Dungeness Spit

Posted on February 6, 2018 by evejakubowski

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

Blue sky and salt air!!

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

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

Root ball driftwood

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

Driftwood and sea foam

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

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

Spot the sanderling! (a bird)

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

The lighthouse!

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

Looking back from the lighthouse

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

Enjoying the shallows

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

Andy and Lucy enjoying the walk back

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

Jesus rays!

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

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

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

Mt. Olympus

Posted on July 17, 2016 by evejakubowski

View from the summit

Any DFW fans out there? A Supposedly Fun Thing I’ll Never Do Again? Yeah, this trip might get that label. Was it good? Yeah, hell yeah I mean it was great. But I am way to lazy to do this again any time in the near future. We’ll get to that. Regardless, this trip almost didn’t happen for me. I was going to bail the night before since I had a visitor in town staying at my apartment, but being a moderately selfish person and realizing that I was either a) bailing on visitor (lose) or b) bailing on friends with a specifically organized climbing trip (lose) I should just go with whatever I personally wanted (win). And I wanted to climb Olympus. Well, sorta.

Distance: Simon’s Suunto claims like 52 miles, but I don’t think it was actually that long.

Elevation: 7400ft gain (7,979ft highest point, and also all of that elevation gain is in the last few miles so get pumped)

Commute from Seattle: 5 Effing Hours so carpool and bring great music and snacks

Weather: Foggy and 50’s, sunny and 60’s

Did I Trip: Yeah, and I ended up in a river. Stop laughing.

So much green

There had been several (okay, two) obstacles preventing me from climbing Olympus sooner, or from even really wanting to do Olympus. The drive (5 hours without traffic… add traffic to that and I might have literally died had I driven alone), and the approach (18 mother fucking miles of flat ass well maintained low valley forest trail, which to some is a dream, but to me, is a nightmare). I always assumed I’d do it as a one day trail run when I wa in decent shape. But somehow, my damn friends convinced me it would be fun, and I did have to check it off the list. Apex peak, whatever. We drove out Saturday morning, naturally taking longer than expected. We planned on leaving around 4:30 or 5am, but actually got out around 6. We stopped at Ruby Beach on the way there. you pass Beach 2, Beach 3, Beach 4… what comes next? Beach 5? Nope, Ruby Beach! Seeing the ocean actually almost took my breath away, mostly because I had no idea the drive to Olympus would take us right next to the coast. I miss the ocean constantly, maybe more than I miss toilets when I’m on a glacier.

I started a possibly illegal parking area, ran into the water, got destroyed by a surprise wave, hopped around some logs, stole a bunch of toilet paper from the bathrooms, and we continued on our merry way, blasting Sublime down the national park roads (should I apologize?). My pants were dry within half an hour despite being heavy duty ice climbing pants. The parking lot at the trailhead was packed and we ended up parking in a one-day camping parking lot, but what can you do. We got started on the trail around 12:30.

Awesome nurse log

The trail is… I mean it’s pretty, but it’s tainted by the fact I’m starting to hate approaches. “It’s all about the journey!!!” Yeah, if the journey is above treeline, on rock or ice. If it’s bushwacky, or straight up or off trail or anything like that, great, I’m into it. But 18 miles along a flat forested trail? I was going to go crazy. I haven’t been that stir crazy since the Snow Lakes approach to the Enchantments, which at least had the excitement of new skis. Tedious, I think, is the word for it. At least it was spectacularly green, with the occasional enormous tree or nurse log for us to marvel at. Luckily we were camping at Elk Lake (revised to Martin Creek because we thought we’d have campfires and Elk Lake doesn’t allow any), so we only had to go 15 miles in. Okay Eve, keep reminding yourself that.

More green

The approach trail is the Hoh River trail, which as I’m sure you can imagine spawned more than enough sophomoric humor to sustain me for the first few miles. “Are you enjoying the Hoh?” “Is the Hoh treating you well?” kept the mood light for the first two or so hours, until passing parties became more sparse and there were no more groups to tolerate us giggling as we dropped one-liners left and right. We took a break at the ranger station 9 miles in (which is pretty cool, that there’s a ranger station 9 miles down a trail) to wait for Sam, who was lagging – maybe because he was carrying a splitboard. And that meant an entire extra pair of boots. Three pairs of boots, in fact. Approach shoes, mountaineering boots, and snowboard boots. Yeah, not jealous.

We got to camp around 7. Connor and I claimed the best tent spot, since Haley had to wait for Simon who was carrying their tent and showed up shortly after us. Sam hobbled into camp with his extra boots and snowboard an hour later, tossed his bivvy on the ground, and was unconscious within minutes. The rest of us whipped up some dehydrated meals, completely ignored the campfire that we had been so excited for, and chatted about the summit bid.

You might as well look as ridiculous as possible if you’re carrying a splitboard through a rain forest

It was Connor’s birthday, and Simon and I had brought up cupcakes and even a candle to celebrate. We snuck off to get the cupcakes, and carried them back to the campsite where Connor managed to be the most oblivious birthday boy in the world (or is really good at pretending not to notice and then feigning surprise). We set up cupcakes and candles basically right in front of him and when I said “should we sing!?” he starts singing “What I Got” by Sublime, which was immediately drowned out by Happy Birthday as he lit up when he saw the cupcakes. I know, we’re fucking adorable. Nothing beats mountain birthdays, even if they’re sitting in a foggy misty jungle after a pounding 15 mile approach that didn’t even get you to the fun part. Unless you’re Sam, who confessed the next day that he thought he dreamed we offered him cupcakes but logically thought “why the fuck would they have cupcakes right now” and continued to sleep. The good part of that is that we had an entire extra cupcake, to be devoured post summit.

Simon’s wardrobe malfunction (“YOU BETTER NOT HAVE GOTTEN A PIC OF THAT”)

We got up around 6am, I bitched about the fog and weather, and we started towards Glacier Meadows at 7. Sam got a head start, knowing he’d be slower with his snowboard. The ladder was a hilarious endeavor as Simon’s pants immediately fell off when he started down, and I have to admit it’s a tricky spot to have to have a serious wardrobe adjustment. I believe he has since returned the pants. Falling off in precarious situations isn’t a 5-star experience. Also, why’d they set up the ladder if you have to go back up the gully once you’re at the bottom? Someone hit that with a shovel and dig out a traverse. I’m never doing that approach again unless it’s for a damn good reason but maybe if you drop me in via helicopter I’ll help out.

The further we went, the clearer the skies got, and by the time we reached the meadows, it was a sunny blue sky day. Holy shit. I’m like never wrong with weather and I was so, so wrong. I was torn. I wanted my “I told you so” moment, but I also wanted sunshine. I’l settle for the latter. We had agreed to meet Sam at the ranger station at the meadows, which turned out to be a platform of wood with a sign saying “Ranger Station.” Great! A platform of wood, with no rangers, no Sam, and no signs of Sam. We thought maybe he’d be by the glacier, so we kept moving. Eventually the trail forks and you can choose lateral glacier or moraine. Choose lateral. Moraine might be fine in winter or early season, but this time of year and onward it’s just a lot of walking across a broken exposed glacier. We headed for the side, hoping to run into Sam.

Crossing the Blue Glacier. Route goes to center frame, then turns right to go up behind the rocks.

We hit the ridge a little too early (“scenic route!”) and scrambled along it to meet the glacier. I was finally in my element, off the damn Hoh River Trail slog and floating along a steep ridge instead. We finally saw Sam ahead of us. We waited for the entire group to reconvene, Connor tossed me the rope, and I dropped down the ridge to get it all flaked out on the glacier. The glacier looked pretty mellow, but we figured hey, good practice, and better safe than sorry. Connor took the lead, I anchored, and everyone else clipped in in the middle. Anchoring means you get the best pictures because you see the whole team in front of you.

On top of Snow Dome

The route goes directly across the Blue Glacier and then turns slightly right to go up a few rocky outcroppings just before a steep snow slope up to Snow Dome. Glaciers are like deserts when it comes to sunshine, and I was baking. No shade, everything reflecting the sun. Like being in a toaster, and you are the toast. “Top Brown” is the dream, but sometimes I end up charred. I had my sweet new nose cover from creme-brulee-ing my face on Rainier the previous weekend, so at least that was under cover, and a new keychain of SPF 50 to be reapplied in motion. We took a lot of breaks which helped fight off the sun. Connor drew out a potential new line up the ice fall, which was awesome. Give me a few years to get up to M7 and I’ll tag along. I’m not tackling any 5.11 rock any time soon.

Wrapping around behind the summits

We reached the top of Snow Dome, where Sam finally bailed on his splitboard. He set it up right there, waiting for the return down. We looked ahead of us at Olympus and saw two routes. One potentially ended in a bergschrund – the Autobahn route, which goes straight from Snow Dome up the face of Olympus right in front of you. The other route wraps around the back of the false summit and then gains the summit scramble. Logic would have told us that the footprints going from the Autobahn to the standard route meant the Autobahn wasn’t doable, but I wasn’t positive until another group confirmed that you definitely had to go around the backside. Great, that’s what we’ll do.

Up to the false summit

The trail from here is fairly mellow until the climb to the false summit. I recall Simon in front of me, “please say that’s the summit!” I was ready to be the dream crusher, but Connor took care of that. “Nope!” You drop down on the other side of the false summit and then ascend another short slope to start the scramble to the true summit. We left our heavy things on the snow saddle, reflaked the rope for rock climbing (I’ll just mention in passing how five people on one rock rope is… ugh) and headed up to the scramble. Connor and I scrambled along a ledge to a belay station before the tougher scramble began. The ledge is like a class 2 scramble, but with a bit of exposure. From there, you get a few class 3 moves with one arguably low 5th class move. We simulclimbed the section to the rap station, where Connor carried on to the summit as I belayed the other three up to the rap rock. We did use a small rock rack to set up pro and make sure everyone was 100% comfortable with everything we were doing, since Sam, Haley, and Simon had never been on anything beyond low class scrambles before. And despite all of the pro, I will never forget the hilarious image of Simon, Haley, and Sam all clinging to the rap rock, cheeks pressed against stone, snuggling the damn thing for their lives. I get it, I remember my first rock climb. I was like a starfish stuck to a rock.

I honestly do not remember how or why someone else got my camera but there’s Connor and I on the summit

After they worked out what sounded like a rope nest spaghetti mess (my fault – I clipped them into the anchor in the order they arrived, should have anchored them in the order they’d be heading to the summit) we belayed them all over to the summit, where I made sure to flake out the rope clearly so we wouldn’t deal with the same mess on the way down. I took the most bad ass picture of Haley that anyone’s ever taken ever. More on that later.

Simon has conquered his first real rock

We signed the summit register, snapped summit pics, ate summit chocolate, and laughed at the trails of footprints of the pour soul who tried to take the Autobahn route. They had looked at every corner of the schrund trying to figure out a way around it, to no avail. Thanks for taking one for the team, buddy, we’ve all been there. Eventually, we decided it was time to head down. Clouds had been moving in slowly all day, it had taken a long ass time to get everyone up the rock, and we knew it’d take a long time to get everyone off the rock as well. Connor led the way to the rap station and we belayed everyone back across there. I went last, and had the luxury of rappelling first. Rather than walk everyone through autoblocks, we settled on a fireman’s belay from below. I set up at the bottom and held the rope while Connor got everyone else set up on rappel, and eventually everyone was back down at the scramble ledge.

Connor jogging ahead

Back on the snow, we grabbed the axes and crampons we had stashed at the top of the slope. Connor tossed his crampons down to his pack, only to watch them fly 10ft and get stuck a third of the way down the slope. Ha! I held on to mine and walked down, literally too lazy to glissade. Upon returning to my pack, I realized I had spilled chocolate all over it. No! Ugh! I dumped it out on the glacier, half melted, looking like rodent poop hundreds of meters above where rodents should be. Sorry guys. I left a trace, I know 😦

We didn’t bother to rope up for the way down, knowing how mellow the glacier was the entire way. We half walked half ran down the slopes, back to Snow Dome where Sam finally got to put his splitboard to use. I took his camera and jogged ahead of him to get photos. There are few things I enjoy more than jogging down snow when it’s soft enough to plunge step, I leapfrogged Connor and Haley glissading between scramble sections laughing like a kid. I snapped a few shots of Sam as he finally passed, and soon enough we were back on the flat section of glacier. We made quick work getting back to the ridge, drank some glacial runoff, and started down the trail back to camp as the sun set.

Connor and Haley and the last light on Olympus

My headlamp was in my pack and you all know how lazy I am. Actually I had two headlamps, because after cutthroat peak I’ll be damned if I ever forget a headlamp ever again. I put it off until it was officially freaking dark – I had been right near two people with headlamps, stopped with Sam and Connor for a second, and as soon as Simon and Haley were a few steps ahead, I realized just how dark it was and caved. Haley and Simon started yelling for a bear at once point. I thought they were just trying to freak me out (I don’t like dark forests or wildlife) but they swore they heard something huge rustling in the bushes. I’m oblivious, and heard nothing. Maybe bears have literally walked across the trail in front of me and I just haven’t been paying attention. That happened with a deer once.

Almost sunset!

We got back to camp where I was thrilled to ditch the mountaineering boots and beyond excited to curl up in my sleeping bag. I freaking love bedtime on climbs. Doesn’t matter what time it is. But I needed dinner (Sweet and Sour Pork! Yes!) and we had been talking about that last cupcake for like six hours. We split it four ways, and it was the best 1/4th of a cupcake I have ever had.

Bedtime was amazing as always. It was a little ridiculous having a zero degree down bag in a four season mountaineering tent set up at 2,000ft in a rainforest but I don’t have any true backpacking gear. We woke up to Simon telling us they were ready to leave (false – it took another hour and a half for them to be ready) and Sam again got a head start. We caught up to him quicker than I expected, but to be fair, I wasn’t carrying a million pounds. Really the only heavy things I was carrying were tent, boots, and glacier gear. Connor had rope and small rock rack, and eventually took half of Sam’s splitboard, which he mounted horizontally on his pack. Horizontally. I get it, you want it to be evenly weighted, but it looks hilarious and I was just waiting for him to clothesline someone.

Sam finally enjoying his snowboard

We only had one mishap on the way out. I was setting the pace and crossing a log jam over a river when I stepped on a not so secure log, which slowly started to sink into the water. Haley stood behind me staring. I couldn’t dive off because I didn’t want my entire pack to end up soaking, I tried to jump to another log but just sunk the log further, and finally I just stood there defeated as I sank to my ass in beautiful refreshing blue river. My camera survived because it’s virtually indestructible. My phone wasn’t as lucky. RIP my bank account and the best pic of Haley anyone’s ever taken.

Group summit selfie!

Well my pants dried within a half hour for the second time that weekend, and we were back at the trailhead in around 6 hours. My feet did not want to see those trail runners again. Did I even remember where we had parked? Um… we’ll just walk in a convenient circle. Haley and I ran to the car as soon as we saw it, flying by the grumpy duo that was Simon and Connor, attempting celebratory cartwheels after we dropped our packs. Would Sam find the car? We figured we’d get all of our shit organized (plus I was 90% sure I had torn a muscle in an attempted cartwheel, that must be what it feels like to be 80 years old) and if he still hadn’t arrived we’d drive over to the visitor center (right near the trail exit) and meet him there. It’s pretty hard to miss my bright yellow xterra.

So lush and healthy

After some celebration chocolate and beer and pirate booty and some extra reveling in the comfort that is flip flops, Sam popped out of the trees. Yay! Everyone was back in one piece, and ready to head back to Simon’s for steaks and drinks and ice cream and fireworks. We stopped at McDonalds on the way (aiming for Carl’s Jr but those are NOWHERE) where I destroyed a big mac, followed by a girly drink pickup at Starbucks, and eventually, a 1lb steak that for the first time in my life I did not finish. I blame the big mac. And you know what? I never have to do Olympus again. Except by now I’ve forgotten the misery of the approach, so maybe I could be convinced. Maybe. I mean, looking back it now those pictures of the forest look pretty nice…

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

Boulder Lake/Olympic Hot Springs

Posted on March 1, 2015 by evejakubowski

With a week between hikes, I was itching to get out again. I spent a few hours agonizing over the fact that we were sacrificing a sunny day for a forest hike: guys, I turned into a hiking snob somewhere along the progression of this blog. Maybe I can trace my gradual adoption of hiker elitism through these posts. Either way, it needs to end now. So I reminded myself to just be thankful that I had friends who wanted to hike, and were willing to drive my (snobby)? ass all the way to the Olympics. 2/22/2015, a full day of driving, hiking, and hot-springing.

Carpets of moss

Distance: 10.2 miles to the lake, 13.5 if you explore the lake and go to the far hot springs
Elevation: 2800ft gain, 4300 highest point
Weather: 40’s and sunny
Commute from Seattle: 2:30ish with ferry, 3:30ish if you drive around
Did I Trip: No but someone almost dropped their leg (and beer) into a frozen lake

The ferry!! I didn’t know you could drive onto ferries. I had no conception of how this worked or that it was even possible until we were there. It’s expensive, but I don’t think I had ridden a ferry since going to Georges Island back in Boston a decade ago. So that was a neat start to the day, chilling on a ferry with hundreds of Chilly Hilly riders getting ready for their bike race.

Wide trail

The road the hot springs trailhead is easily passable, and drops you off about 2.5 miles from the springs. We decided to hit the springs on the way back. Obviously choice, I mean really. Who wants to hike to a frozen lake after getting out of hot springs? Boulder Lake is six miles down the trail, so we got started. The first part of the trail is down a wide, old road, with a few ditches and trees to climb around but nothing challenging, and very little elevation gain.

Moss

Moss EVERYWHERE. I mean everywhere. This is one of the greenest hikes I’ve been on, and it’s February. Does it look any different in the summer? Does it get greener? Is that possible? I don’t think it’s possible. Look at those carpets of moss. It gets green after the split to hot springs and Boulder Lake/Appleton Pass, and I started to come to terms with a sunny forest hike.

Relaxing in the sun by Boulder Lake

There are a few small creek crossings to manage, but nothing tricky. Elevation gain starts towards the last two miles of the hike, but by then you’re almost at the lake! Which was completely frozen over, but still gorgeous. Boulder Peak looms over the lake, and the only lousy part was that the sun was right behind it, meaning pictures were hard. Dammit. We set up snack time on a log that jutted over the water, and hung out for a half hour or so. There was a couple that had camped up by the lake, and I’ll admit I was as little jealous. I ran around taking pictures of everyone and everything, and desperately tried to get a time lapse without too much glare (I failed after many valiant attempts).

Emilie along the dirt trail

After some smores “snack mix” (more like dessert) and smoked salmon, we turned back to head to the hot springs! Woo! Just over three miles to get there, and the way back went much more quickly than the way up. We cut through a campsite to get to the springs, and started walking down the road where we saw steam and smelled sulfur – all I could think of was how much I wished I could eat eggs then and there. Don’t worry, you forget about the smell quickly!

We passed five or six before taking a larger pool that was off the road up a small path to the right. I was told more recently that there are some secret springs past that one(?) or somewhere around there, and another one inside a small cave, which I haven’t heard of. I know the Goldmeyer hot springs have some caves, but the Olympics? Secret cave hot spring would be awesome, I’ll have to do some more research.

Snow capped peak along the trail – Appleton maybe?

We got out of the springs around sunset, and it was completely dark by the time we got back to the car. Which had a note under the windshield wiper. Shit, did we get a ticket? No, it was for an espresso shop. Who advertises that at a trailhead? I guess.. I guess I’ll go stop by sometime? Turned out there was a note on the back, which I read with increasing volume as I started to comprehend what it said: “Hello – my family and I were hiking up to hot springs and found your key on the trail. I put it under your tire for you, no worries, nothing missing.”

Note from our favorite person of the day

My friend Andy (the driver) had thrown his backpack across a ditch at one point (only about 1.5 miles into the trail), broken a bottle inside it, and unpacked everything. We’re guessing that’s where his key had fallen out, and we had NO IDEA until we read the note on the car. Thank god, because finding it in the dark on a Sunday night would not have been ideal. You can have faith in people sometimes! We still have no idea who did it – I posted a trip report, but no one has mentioned it. And we can’t thank them enough. It was a great day, and thanks to that family, we could end it that way too.*

Here’s a link to the strava map, and a quick screenshot. The offshoot to the south is the hot springs. As a side note, if you have Strava, you can see slightly more detail (and follow me!)

Strava map

Can’t leave here without sharing the outhouse. It reminds me of Shrek. Unfortunately (forunately?), I did not get to explore the inside.

Classy outhouse

*Well we missed the ferry on the way back and had to drive down and around the Sound. But I slept through that and woke up one exit from my apartment, so who cares? Kidding, thanks for driving guys, and Lucy you are my new favorite road trip DJ.

Mount Townsend

Posted on January 27, 2015 by evejakubowski

If you’re looking at the Olympics from Seattle (for example, from my lovely roof deck), the rightmost peak of the Olympics is Mount Townsend. I didn’t realize this until the day after I climbed it, when I happened to be looking at a labeled picture of the skyline viewed from the city. This was a combination of Mount Townsend and also Welch’s Peaks, which are along the same ridge as the summit of Townsend.

Distance: 8.2 miles
Elevation: 3200ft gain, 6200 highest point
Weather: bizarre: foggy and 40’s on one side of the ridge, sunny and 40’s on the other side of the ridge
Commute from Seattle: 3 hours
Did I Trip: NO! Which is great, because I had people to impress

The group crossing a small slope

I made a spontaneous decision (as usual) to join a meet up group for the first time. I had never really attended a meetup event before, but this peak was tempting and the group seemed open to allowing me to tag along as a newbie. They’re all seasoned hiking/climbing veterans, and I was quite literally the impulsive kid along for the ride. Perfect learning opportunity.

I left Seattle around 6am, picked up Selena (another hiker), and we met Woody and Tanna at a WalMart and carpooled the rest of the way. On the way, I got stories of mishaps, rescues, slow inexperienced newcomers (hopefully not me), just a taste of what they’ve experienced before. I only had a small bag so I worried I looked underprepared, but I had everything I needed. The only piece I was worried about was my sunglasses, which were cheap freebies from the Cushe rep that he had dropped off at REI a week earlier. Glacier glasses were (and still are) in the mail.

Clouds moving in from the left (east)

When we started, the trail was completely free of snow and it was sunny. The road was also paved all the way to the trailhead(!) which made for easy going. I had never been to the Olympics before, and the forest felt completely different from the Cascades. For starters, rhodedendrons everywhere! We weren’t in the rainforest part of the Olympics since we were on the far east side. The first bit of the trail is through the woods, though eventually you have some short breaks on open slopes before turning back into the trees. There was a thick patch of clouds coming towards us, and we figured we’d get to the saddle and decide based on visibility whether we’d do the summit first or the lower Welch’s Peaks.

The best thing from the start about hiking with these three was the sheer amount of knowledge they had about our surroundings. Woody and Tanna had done this hike many times before and knew exactly where to go even with the trail completely covered in snow. They all had extensive avalanche experience, and were able to explain why we were crossing certain slopes, things to look for to evaluate conditions, weather patterns to consider. I had read much of the advice, but it’s completely different when you’re hearing it explained in the actual wilderness. I have “beginner’s bliss-” I haven’t had anything scary happen to me yet, so I’m generally oblivious of the possibilities, though I try to be aware of that fact.

There were slopes we crossed that were definitely avalanche terrain, and a few I’d never have crossed alone. I’m impulsive, but I’m a chicken. Okay, maybe I’ve been reading a few too many books about K2 lately. And just read an article about an avalanche on Granite Mountain. Which is one of the most popular hikes out here. Most of the slopes on our hike were small, and we didn’t even see a slide happen.

I couldn’t resist. Views behind me to the west, which was the clear side.

Once we got to the saddle (after many switchbacks) we figured we’d do Welch’s first. Townsend was in and out of fog, so we scrambled to the left to check out the lower areas first. The valley to the east was full of clouds, but to the west, it was completely clear. The clouds made it an unbelievably beautiful scene. I’m still not over how cool it looked.

Looking up at Woody at the top of one Welch’s Peak (almost)

We scrambled a short way before the boulder wells got too deep to deal with and we decided to head over to Townsend. Woody scouted out a route across a slope that we could traverse to avoid some more serious scrambling, and we followed his lead.

Risky picture, the clouds looked incredible from below just peeking over the peaks

In places, the slope was fresh powder on top of a sheet of ice. I was warned to kick steps very carefully, and I remember following Selena’s every step (Selena, if you’re reading this, thank you!!) and trying to kick in just as slowly and mindfully as she did. It was like being an eager five year old eagerly learning from the big kids. I’ve kicked steps often before, I have no idea why this time was different. Probably because I had people to learn from.

Selena coming up the ridge

Tanna pointed out that in general on a slope like that we should have ice axes just in case (it was exposed and a little steep) and Selena pointed out that in powder, the axe wouldn’t exactly help much. Luckily, some of our steps kicked down to shrubbery, which made it a bit easier, and soon enough we were on the ridge.

The ridge was gorgeous. I’ll have to go back there to run it in the summer. There’s a trail that goes along the entire ridge from the scramble to the summit and then beyond. Turning around and seeing the clouds on one half spilling onto the clear side was stunning. When we set up for snacks I had the brilliant idea (no idea how this didn’t occur to me months ago) of just taking a video and speeding it up once I was hope. Color wasn’t great because of glare and my point-n-shoot’s stark lack of adjustability, but it’s still pretty cool. And with that, I present to you my first time lapse!

Moon Cheese!

Moon Cheese was my snack of choice. Turns out REI just started carrying it, which means even more of my paycheck will be going back to my employers. REI: Recycled Employee Income. That’s the joke among us. And it’s too true. I had a ton of tea and several oat bars and a kind bar. I had enough food to last me a solid day or two up there. So I chowed down. At one point (I didn’t get a good lapse of this) the clouds moved in just enough to cover everything except for a small peak, and we could have been at 22,000ft. Looking past the snow and rocks out to clouds with a peak sticking out in the fog.

Baker poking up over the clouds

Oh, and the entire Sound was covered in fog, as were the Cascades. With the exception of Baker, which we could see just poking up over the top of the clouds. We spent maybe 45 minutes just admiring views from the summit before heading back down.

Sun streaming through trees and fog

Back down into the fog, which had enveloped that side of the ridge. We went from being above the clouds in a blue sky, sunny day to what felt like a different world.

small snowdrifts

Cloudy with no sun, still a pretty hike, but not as stunning as it had been with views. But like I said, the clouds along the ridge felt like a one-time experience, and descending in clouds was a fair trade. We got back to the car quickly, piled in, and headed back to Seattle with a short stop for tea and ice cream (or milkshakes, or quesadillas, or whatever you so desired) on the way.

Topo map of the hike

Oh! In addition to the time lapse, I also have… our first topographical map of the trail! What! I tested a running app, Strava, that allegedly worked in the mountains. Success! It wasn’t 100% accurate (we compared it to Selena and Tanna’s GPSes) but hey, it’s close enough for my purposes. It was off by about 200ft of elevation and .1 miles, but the path is fairly consistent considering how relatively infrequently it tracks your coordinates. Here you go! More info about elevation is here. Unfortunately you cannot download it or zoom in (I just discovered that) but you get an idea.

This was an unbelievable trip. I hadn’t gone on a completely new hike in a while, and it was refreshing to feel adventurous again instead of repeating the same hikes I had already done. I can’t thank the Peaks group enough – it was a perfect first introduction, and I hope they schedule more that I can go to. It’s great fun hiking with people who know so much more than I do. It makes me realize how much there is to learn, which, if anything, just fuels the desire to get out there even more. So if you’re reading this, thanks guys!

Have Tent, Will Travel

Trail running, mountaineering, and the occasional wipeout

Category Archives: Olympics