Gunn Peak

Posted on November 1, 2015 by evejakubowski

The three musketeers!

I wasn’t totally convinced about this hike, but I hadn’t made any of my own plans for Saturday, so I figured why the hell not. Rob and John are good company, so worst case scenario I’d get a good laugh and a bit of a workout. I ended up getting both of the above, as well as a pleasant reminder that stunning, untouched scenery can be found without driving 3 hours into the wilderness. Hiked the first weekend of October, 2015!

Distance: no idea. 9 miles? 7 miles? Short for how long it takes.
Elevation: ~4000ft gain, 6210ft highest point
Weather: foggy until we got above the clouds, and then 40’s-50’s and sunny!
Commute from Seattle: 90 minutes
Did I Trip: I was going to count everyone’s slips/trips/wipeouts on the way down but I forgot to keep track! But yes. And we had two twisted ankles, some muddy butts, and a very tired dog.

Tarns in front of Townsend

Now I’m writing this three weeks late (and posting four weeks late) because I’m ~~busy~~ lazy, so we’ll see how much I remember. We drove out in pouring rain. Halfway there, sitting in traffic (on Rt 2!) in the dark dreary wet weather I realized I didn’t even care, I was just happy to be getting out. We were listening to Reel Big Fish, who can’t be happy listening to that? We even stopped on the way to get steak and veggies for a campfire meal. I’ve never really cooked over a campfire before besides sausages and stuffed mushrooms and other wrap-it-in-tin-foil-and-go, so this was new.

We pulled up to the trailhead, still in pouring rain. I set up my tent and layered up for the weather, and we started grabbing big rocks to set up the fire. With some small miracles (and a starter log, or two) we had enough of a fire going to heat up food, and John cut up the steak while I handled veggies. I eventually admitted I had never made a shishkabob when John had to assist with the peppers. The only instructions were “make them a good size so they don’t fall off the skewer” which I apparently could not handle. For you other newbies, that means like ~1″ in diameter.

Post-shishkabobs, it was bedtime. Another rainy night in a tent built for snow, though at least I remembered to open the vents this time. We had alarms set for 5am, and soon enough, we woke up to… more pouring rain. The general consensus was that we’d keep sleeping, so I rolled back into my sleeping bag burrito after peeking out the door.

Ripley looking damn good on one of the first scramble sections

We got up for real around 7, and made hot chocolate and coffee. After about an hour, the mist started to brighten, and then clear, and we got a glimpse of blue sky. We had originally resigned ourselves to doing Barclay Lake or Mt. Baring, but… you know what? Eff it, let’s try for Gunn. Might as well. Summitpost said it might take around 9 hours, and we had 9 hours. We all had headlamps and were content coming back after dark if necessary, assuming we had good blazes. Sweet.

The trail is back down the road, maybe a tenth of a mile from the Barclay Lake trailhead. There’s a small dirt road that leads to a campground, and it’s right before the campground that you’ll find the trail heading off to the right. When we were there, it was nicely blazed with hot pink blazes. Rob had brought orange tape for us to use, though we didn’t need it in many places.

Up and up and up

The trail goes maybe 150ft through a forest before you cross the stream, which was easy enough with plenty of logs and stones to hop across. I imagine when the water’s higher, it’s a bit more tricky. Once on the other side, the trail continues along what might have been a logging road at one point. I couldn’t tell besides the flat grade, but when someone pointed it out, I could totally see how it might be possible.

Don’t get complacent. The trail starts to go up, up, and up after a quarter mile on the flat forest-reclaimed road. It was reminiscent of the Eldorado approach, except I wasn’t carrying 50lbs. Just lots of roots, steep sections, and eventually, something I forgot existed: scrambles in the woods! After pushing aside plenty of tree branches along the bootpath and constantly being showered by water, we reached a rocky cliff, at which point you turn right and pretty much hug the rock for a while.

I always associate scrambles with open views and exposed rock. But there are some that are surrounded by trees, moss, roots, all those foresty things. We had Ripley (John’s dog) with us, and he had brought her life jacket (it has a handle on the back) in case we had to do a doggie belay and carry her up some sections. The first scramble was just a very short “traverse” to stay on the path, covered in moss and dripping with water because of the previous night. A few minutes after this, we reached a section that is probably a beautiful waterfall on occasion, but was pretty dried up this time of year. Cross that and immediately scramble up to the left and back into the trees. Yeah, this hike makes you work for those views.

Finally getting above the trees and brush, Baring in the background

Eventually the trees shrink into bushes and brush, and it feels like you’re making progress. But the brush isn’t much better. It’s thicker, harder to push out of the way, and does a damn good job of obscuring the path. And since it was all still wet… it all rains down every time you squeeze between bushes. But thanks to those blazes and the fact that much of it was trampled, there were few spots were we had to guess. I honestly expected it to be much more of a bushwhack than it was, but I think this late in the season, enough feet have been up there that it’s a little more well traveled.

I mean there was some fall foliage

Despite it being early October, there was only one section with real fall foliage, but damn was it vibrant. Finally we were out of trees, out of tall bushes, and surrounded by low colored, blazing heather and blueberry bushes and some scrubby plants I don’t recognize. I stood around snapping pictures constantly, and since Baring was in full view standing over the clouds I couldn’t stop. I had NO idea that there were pics so dramatic so close to Seattle. I thought most of the hikes within an hour or an hour and a half were more “rolling hill” style, with rounded tops, below the tree line, things like that. Not the sharp, dark rock we were looking at here. It felt so much more remote than I had expected.

Looking back at everyone approaching the talus field, Townsend and Merchant in the background

There was a bit of a bootpath through the fall foliage. We reached a saddle between Tailgunner and Peak 5760 (which I admittedly might be confusing with Point 5760), just east of Tailgunner and just south of a small valley with a few tarns near the base of Peak 5760. We dropped down almost to the tarns but rather than take a pleasant dip we hung left towards the talus field. The route to Gunn Peak is effectively straight across the talus field to the highest clump of vegetation right below a prominent rocky outcropping on the south face of the peak.

Aim for that highest slanted strip of trees below the rocky outcropping in center frame

Rob on the 3rd class scramble

We each chose our own way across that, and rejoined below the cliff band, which is where the real scrambling starts. Ripley had been a champ so far, but the 3rd class scramble was a bit too much for a dog. Ben, Vazul, and Evan agreed to hang with Ripley and take her over to Tailgunner while Rob led John and I up Gunn. We agreed to meet back at our lunch spot on the ridge between Tailgunner and Peak 5760.

Rob scaled the scramble with ease, and I waited below for him to clear the loose sections. When he was out of sight and well beyond the trees, I went up. I will say that some people (such as Rob) are very graceful scramblers. I am not usually among those. But there was nothing too hard, and I was up and in the trees soon enough, trying to find Rob. I had been making fun of him for putting up blazes for the entire hike, and now I didn’t know where he was. Ooh look! A blaze, just beyond the trees! Yes, aim for that, he must have put it there!

Nope, just a leaf. God dammit. But I was back out on another talus slope above the trees, and saw Rob up ahead of me scouting out the path. I figured we should wait for the others, so we decided he’d scramble a little further to figure out where we were headed and I’d wait to see who else joined.

John on the way back across the catwalk

After 10 or so minutes of waiting, the two of us were ready to continue when we saw John pop out of the trees below us. Sweet! We waited for him to catch up. You keep to the base of the cliff, negotiating talus until a gully opens up on your left side. Follow the gully, path of least resistance, and cross a notch when you reach the ridge. On the north side is where you’ll encounter the catwalk. It’s not Kendall Katwalk, it’s much narrower with a harrowing drop of 1000+ feet. Don’t fall. Follow that ridge, and soon enough, you’re on Gunn Peak! Which, despite being only 6200ft tall, is #29 on the most prominent peaks of Washington list with over 3651ft of prominence. Wow.

We couldn’t find a summit register. And damn did we look. It’s either not there, or it fell off the cliffs, or some asshat buried it under too many rocks. Ugh. We took a few photos, cracked open beers, and Rob laughed and called us the three musketeers. The three who made it to the top of Rainier back in August, and now the three who made it up Gunn Peak. Kudos, guys, you’re fantastic climbing partners.

Rob soaking in the views: Townsend, Merchant, and Baring all visible

Back through the fall foliage, even more vibrant in the late afternoon sun

Just as we sidled up to the clearing, we saw the other three coming back down. Perfect timing! We had spent quite a while on the summit, and I thought the rest of the group would be waiting for us. We met up and took a quick break before heading back down. I thought the way down went faster than the way up, but I’m a bad judge of time. Vazul and Evan and I were flying, and I got into a nice steady downhill rhythm. We stopped occasionally to wait for the others. At one point we were convinced they were lost near the sometimes-it’s-a-waterfall crossing, between someone yelling to ask where we were, general shouting, and the warnings (“ROCK!!!”) and what sounded like mini rockslides everywhere. We sat on the steep trail and waited for them to successfully make it over to us, where we were solidly back in the trees on dirt trail with no scrambling left.

Evan on one of the foresty scrambles

In my head, I was comparing it to Eldorado, which had a bitch of an approach. Going down from Gunn, that’s what I was expecting. But the forested section was much shorter than Eldorado, and I was thrilled when we were on the flat what-once-might-have-been-a-road section. Poor Ripley was exhausted, but had kept up with us the whole time! Every time we stopped on the way down she sat on the ground and tucked her paws beneath her. But she didn’t seem to want to admit it, because she still looked damn happy.

We had been hearing gunshots for a while, and as we got closer to the river, we realized we were pretty close to the shots. I was unnerved, but didn’t think much of it. I think I’ve already mentioned I grew up in east coast cities, dealing with gunshots in deep, dense woods is not among my talents. Ben and John started yelling from the back, and Evan, Vazul and I looked at each other and said holy shit, we didn’t even think of that. Duh. Make lots of noise. The shots stopped, and John and Ben kept yelling periodically just to make sure. Within 15 minutes, we had crossed the river and popped out near the campsite, and apparently surprised the shit out of a few guys doing target practice, aiming across the river. Right where we were. But they had heard us, and had stopped, and I learned rule #1 of being close to gunshots while bushwhacking: make it clear you’re a person.

The best time of day for the woods

Up and down within 9 hours, never lost, no injuries, amazing weather up above the clouds, and we were back before dark. An unbelievable day, well worth the soggy night at the trailhead. Ripley was too tired to jump in the car, and from what I heard, spent the next few days mostly sitting and occasionally limping around the apartment.

Tower Mountain and Golden Horn

Posted on October 6, 2015 by evejakubowski

Rob and Simon at the beginning of the scramble

Edit: Happy one year anniversary to the blog! Woo! Here’s a link to my first ever post… it’s come a long way, as have my photography skills (or lack thereof) and tendency to keep talking.

With much of the Cascades getting a solid amount of fresh snow on Friday, we figured we’d avoid potential avalanchey situations and check out the dry, east side. A forecast of “Sunny, 0% precipitation” turned into “Mostly cloudy, snow, and freezing temperatures,” but when has that stopped us? We met at the trailhead parking lot Friday night and got started Saturday morning for what I thought was a 7 mile approach. Hiked 9/26/2015-9/27/2015!

Distance: 24ish miles round trip (surprise! 10 mile approach!)
Elevation gain: ~7000ish?
Weather: high 20’s and snowing to 50’s and sunny. Yay, mountain weather!
Commute from Seattle: Just over 3 hours
Did I Trip: I fell on my ass twice and struggled like a beached whale to get over the final summit block if that counts
GPX file here (summitpost also has one for just Golden Horn)

Awesome topography in every direction

So there was one potential issue with this trip from the beginning that I neglected to tell my teammates: I was sick. For those of you who don’t know me, I almost never get sick. So when I do, I’m a victim of the man cold. It’s all over, I must be dying, what do I do? Do I eat soup and wash my hands a lot? I have no idea. Actually, you know what might cure me? 48+ hours of physical exertion, little sleep, no showers, and sleeping (trying) in a germ cocoon. Yeah, that’ll do it.

Kacie in fall colors

I knew John and Rob from Rainier back in August, but had just met Kacie and Simon. Simon pulled up in a manual transmission off-roading jeep and immediately offered me hot chocolate, so he had to be cool. Kacie made herself crack up all alone by changing the color of her inflatable tent lamp, so she had passed the test too. After a soggy night that staunchly defied the “0% precipitation” forecast, we got started.

From the beginning, the hike was gorgeous, even in the fog. The approach is entirely along the PCT, meaning mellow, well groomed, soft flat trails. Almost no elevation gain. We made good time. I had been worried about keeping up due to my abject lack of energy, but I did okay. Green trees and dirt gave way to white granite and larches, and soon enough we were all in a constant state of wonder. Everywhere you turned was beauty, it didn’t matter where you looked.

A few miles into the trail, I turned around and saw Simon talking on a banana phone, and Kacie exclaimed “You have service up here!? Do you have A Tree&Tree?!” and in that moment, I knew we had an awesome group.

Flat, well groomed PCT

We continued along the PCT with occasional glimpses of Tower and Golden Horn through the clouds, but it didn’t seem like weather was clearing up. The trail is very straightforward, since you’re on one of the most well-maintained trails in the state. The offshoot for Snowy Lakes is maybe a quarter mile after you pass beneath Tower Mountain, directly across from an open field with a few campsites (and in our case, four far ass marmots lying on a rock). The trail turns from beautiful flat highway to steep and rocky, but not too steep and rocky. We were just spoiled by the PCT, and being back on a less maintained trail was hard.

Snowy Lakes were stunning as soon as we came around the corner. We set up camp on a ledge sheltered from the wind at the lower lake, in a nook away from the mobs of people (all relative, it was like 20 people total). Luckily, there were rocks. I had been worried about setting up my tent. I hadn’t camped on a non-glacier in… well… a long time. Did I need stakes? What if there weren’t rocks? How do you keep it from flying off in wind if you can’t deadman anything!? Oh wait, there won’t be as much wind. It was pretty out of place, but damn if that orange didn’t look great against the yellow larches and bright blue water.

It’s a little out of place

Looking back at Mt. Hardy

We waited a bit longer before aiming for Tower, hoping for weather to clear up, but since it wasn’t improving, we got moving. Onward! We went off trail a bit to get to the talus slope, and from there you just work your way to a cave that’s very visible from Snowy Lakes. Cross to the right in front of the cave, and you will find yourself in the main gully. As you gain elevation, views open up, and the ridgeline that grows into Hardy was a very neat topographical feature. If only it had been clearer.

We made it to the cave, and someone said “Rave cave! We even have hula hoops!” I laughed and said “really?!” before realizing what a gullible idiot I was. There are no hula hoops in the wild. Except five minutes later, crossing the cave entrance, there were hula hoops! Holy shit, I didn’t think you were serious! Okay, perk for the way back. We were watching clouds drop lower and lower on Tower as some low hanging dark clouds came towards us from Black Peak, so we wanted to move fast. I announced that I didn’t think we’d get dumped on, we just wouldn’t have views.

Snow in the gully (Photo credit: John)

Well, I’d be a shitty forecaster, because within 15 minutes, it was snowing. I’ll work on that. We made it to the gully (continue east past the cave and you’ll see the gully on your left) where we ran into a four person team that had turned around and had been waiting a long time for the other half of their group to get back. Much of the rock was frozen over, icicles included, not to mention the gully was a bowling alley of rocks to begin with. We let them pass us since they were turning around, and decided we’d still give it a shot. The left side is smoother with more exposure, the right side is more jagged with more prominent footholds and handholds, and that’s the way I’d suggest going.

It didn’t matter, we didn’t make it very far. We turned around maybe 200 vertical feet from the summit. It just wasn’t worth it. Cold fingers, low visibility, snow, rock fall, icicles, the potential for the entire fourth class scramble to be a sheet of ice on our way down… meh. We turned back, knocking down a microwave sized rock in the process. The other group was long gone, but it’s still a little unnerving.

Why would you stay at home when you can hula hoop in a cave on the side of a mountain?! (Photo credit: John)

Nearly back at the cave, Rob turned to me and just said “we should hula hoop!” I thought he was joking, but to hell with it, we got to the cave and picked up those damn hula hoops and went for it! There is nothing more hilarious than John and Rob hula hooping in a cave in the snow at 8,000ft. Well maybe the human ladder that happened 24 hours later, but we’ll get to that. We hula hooped, we broke into bouts of Beach Boys songs and dancing. I had Surfin Safari in my head (why? it’s the furthest topic from what we’re doing) and had shamelessly sung the opening verse a few times, which eventually triggered a spontaneous performance of Barbara Ann since we had a perfect division of bass voices and sopranos (if I try to be shrill enough). Barbara Ann became the song of the trip, much like Come and Get Your Love back on Eldoardo. It’s just hilarious and makes me smile every time. Anyway, imagine hiking up to a cave and there’s a bunch of people hula hooping in snow singing that. That would have happened, except that no one else was up there, because it was gross out.

Rave cave! (There was a bivvy spot in the back if you’re ever stuck)

Jesus brings out the sun back at the lakes

Energy renewed and spirits lifted, we set out back down the loose talus to head back to camp. Simon had turned around earlier, and we wondered what he might have in store for us. More hot chocolate? A fire? No, that’s a lot to ask. We stopped to take pictures of the snowy larches, lament how the weather wasn’t doing us any favors, and joke about how it was so foggy there WAS no peak to summit, I mean if you turn around there’s just nothing there! At Rob’s suggestion, we considered pathetically yelling “Simon!” in the fog close to camp, hoping he’d get the Touching the Void reference. But it wasn’t foggy enough, and we were so excited by what Simon had for us back at camp that we forgot anyway.

Not only was there hot chocolate, there was a fire! In the snow! Woo! We had our hot drinks and crowded around it warming up, until someone turned around and saw the sun breaking through the clouds across upper Snowy Lake. We dropped everything except cameras (and in Simon’s case, his precious fifth of vodka) and ran to the upper lake to take pictures. A group of unhappy looking campers was making dinner as we excitedly ran past to see the sun on the lake, and the next hour was spent running everywhere like overexcited chickens snapping pictures, talking to other pictures, doing karate, walking on water, skipping rocks (or trying to learn how, for me – “did you even have a childhood?!”) and enjoying the situation to its fullest.

Sun sneaking beneath the clouds

“I’m a blackbelt what’d you expect?”

We finally figured we had overstayed our welcome at the upper lake. We were loud, and I proclaimed it was time to go back to our corner. We invited everyone to come to our fire, where we had plenty of food and drinks. Alcoholic or just cozy, take your choice. No one took us up on our offer besides a camper across Lower Snowy Lake from us, who couldn’t resist the offer of fire and warm drinks and hilarious jokes. We crowded around it again as night fell, and thoroughly enjoyed our Backpacker’s Pantry meals, tabasco hot chocolate (sorry Kacie, I’m not sold on it), spiked hot chocolate, various kinda of tea, and finally, an apple crumble dessert. From Mountain House. Dehydrated. It was delicious, and would make a great breakfast too. Take note.

My body finally caught up to me, and I retired to my tent. My germ cocoon. Friday night I had felt iffy, Saturday night was doomsday. Doomsnight. I snuggled in my sleeping bag, freezing cold, and waited out the misery. Come on, body. Get over yourself, you have shit to do tomorrow. I finally gave up around 6am and left the tent to explore the outdoors since sleep was clearly a hopeless endeavor.

Golden Horn reflected in Lower Snowy Lake

Mt. Hardy reflected in Upper Snowy Lake

I got to watch sunrise light up Golden Horn, and snap pictures of reflections in the lakes. I hit up the lower ridgelines to look out over the clouds at the ridge across the valley. Eventually everyone else woke up and we made tea and hot chocolate. Guys, I’m used to being up and moving within an hour of waking up. Sitting around for three hours drove me insane. I don’t work well with casual starts, apparently.

We finally got moving a little after 9am. There was a group ahead of us on Golden Horn that I had run into before the rest of my team woke up, so I knew we’d have company. I was a little worried about keeping up with everyone given how I was feeling, but eh, I’d play it by ear. We were in such a beautiful place, it wouldn’t even matter if I missed out on the peaks.

Looking back at Tower over Snowy Lakes

The hike to Golden Horn is almost entirely line of sight – walk across scree fields until you’re nearly at the base of the summit block, and then do a little class three scrambling to wrap around to the southwest side of the peak. A short gully will bring you to the final few steps. Here, stay on the southwest side of the peak, don’t try to go for the north side. The other group had been staring at the northwest side for a long time, and was about to give up when we showed up and scouted out the southern side. We all joined up, and Joe offered to lead it.

He used two cams, 1 and .75 I think. There was a great horizontal crack in the second slab, and the second crack he utilized was between a flat boulder and the cube of granite that made up the final move to the summit. An elegant muscle up/shimmy combination, and he was on top! We let their team wrap up before sending John up to top rope our group.

Rob on the shimmy move

I couldn’t figure out what the hell was taking John so long to get a good anchor set up. He finally got it worked out, and I got Kacie roped up and ready to go on her first rock climb. Go big or go home! Rob was up next after Kacie tapped the summit, and he made the muscle up/shimmy move look easy. John lowered him, and it was my turn. Getting up to that top move was a breeze, so I figured it couldn’t be that bad. I hopped up, got my elbows over the edge, and immediately realized it wouldn’t be so easy. For anyone who knew me in high school and college, my eight-straight-pull-up days are long over, and it was a pitiful fall from glory. My shoulders and lats forgot how to exist. I told John to drop me back to the flat ledge. I was gonna give it one more try before admitting defeat. Come on body, one push, just one push. With a shot of luck and a bit of a jump, I managed to drag my ass over the edge, only slightly resembling a beached whale. Hell. Yes. (note: how are there no pics or videos of people getting stuck trying to get out of a pool?! That’s what it was like)

Kacie got a solid 10 pics of the struggle

Got there eventually! (Photo credit: John)

I snapped a few pictures, laughed at John’s anchor (which was amazing but impressively precarious to set up, which is why it had taken so long), and had him lower me back down. Naturally I had wanted to rappel, but he was reluctant, and I realized I was in no condition to argue given how shitty I was feeling, and probably not in the best state for any major decisions either. Great, I’ll downclimb.

We finally went to regroup with Simon, who had patiently waited at the notch while we figured out the technical pitch. There was a tricky ledge we had to get across. I scuttled down it just fine (I think my state of mind took away the “look what’s below you, or isn’t” fear) but Simon announced that the previous group had used him as a human ladder, and when Kacie wasn’t sure about getting across, he grabbed a rock at the end, hung his body along the ledge and said “Okay, go, climb me!”

Simon sacrifices his body for the greater good

Simon coming back down the scramble

I think I cried laughing. Kacie’s face says it all. John was up next, and finally we were all across the ridge. At one point, I think Rob had told Simon he didn’t have to wait for us, and Simon had said “No, you need me to get down!” We had no idea what that meant until the human ladder happened. Simon for MVP!

From there, we made quick work of the hike back to camp. Plunge-stepping down scree is much easier than hiking up it, and before I knew it we were back at camp. Which was great, because I was losing hearing in my right ear (it still hasn’t returned three days later) and was on my way towards becoming a very useless group member. We took a break by the lake while everyone packed up tents (I can pack up that tent in like 10 minutes now). We finally had the lakes to ourselves, since everyone else had left. I ate about 1500 calories in one sitting. A beef and cheese burrito, a full thing of maple butter, a bag of m&ms, a kind bar, the combos that had spilled all over the brain of my bag. “Cheese flavored filling,” not even cheese. Whatever, they’re delicious.

The way the light reflected off the lake was ridiculous. That’s Rob in the bottom left corner for scale

The hike back out was the perfect end to a trip. Sunny, smooth, greeting PCT through-hikers, golden hour, and (we had hoped) the lunar eclipse. Unfortunately, we didn’t catch a glimpse of the moon. We knew it was a supermoon, so when we saw tons of stars, we knew the moon had to be eclipsed. On the drive back, the moon was so bright it kept startling me when it flashed through the windows, and I stopped while crossing a bridge to get a good look.

I got back to Seattle a little after midnight, and succumbed to another miserable night. Turned out my bed wasn’t much better than the sleeping bag/tent/germ cocoon combo. And I probably hadn’t done myself any favors by going on that trip. But you know what? 100% worth it. Gorgeous area, awesome company, and one (and a half) stunning, enjoyable peaks. I think next year I’d like to turn it into a trail run if I don’t have time to take up a full weekend, and maybe take another shot at Tower. Or Hardy, which I’ll have to research, but I chatted with Dave at the top of Golden Horn and we thought it looked pretty doable. And I can only hope my next trip involves people as hilarious as the four I was with. Hula hoops and human ladders for all.

Fall foliage at golden hour

Earl and Bean Peaks

Posted on July 30, 2015 by evejakubowski

This will be a quickie. I almost didn’t blog about it, but was flipping through old pictures and though “wow, that looks gorgeous! Wait, was that Earl? Damn!” and here we are. This was way back on 6/19/2015, thank you wta.org for keeping my trip report because I couldn’t remember!

Distance: 8 miles round trip
Elevation: 3900ft gain, 7000ft highest point (Earl)
Weather: 50’s and sunny
Commute from Seattle: 2:30 without traffic
Did I Trip: No but I nearly fell over when a pika shrieked at me

Trail along the river

Okay, so the main reason I wasn’t going to post about this was because it felt like… not a failure, but like a below average day. I intended to run and scramble the entire ridgeline from Earl to Beanto Mary and Judi, maybe add Volcanic Neck and Devil’s Head in there. But when I got there, I just felt lousy. My legs felt like lead, my head wasn’t in the game, meh. So I headed up to Earl and figured I’d play it by ear.

The trail along the creek was very different from the last time I was here. Way more green, more plants, and the stream was lower, so I didn’t nearly lose one of my poles to it like my trip up to Bean Peak. At the first clearing, I ran into a group who asked me if this was the basin with the meadows. I laughed and said no, and looking relieved one woman said good, this was a little underwhelming! They asked how far the basin was (a little under a mile) and decided to continue on. I told them not to worry, the meadows at the basin were much prettier. I gave them quick directions (go left when you cross the creek for the second time!) so they wouldn’t accidentally end up on Earl. I know they made it, because when I was up on the ridge between Earl and Bean, I could hear a few of the girls laughing and shouting.

Stuart starting to peek above Bean

To reiterate, when you cross the creek towards the end of the trail, the path to the left takes you up to Bean Creek Basin, and the path to the right takes you up to Earl. I went right. The trail switchbacks up the slope gradually, dotted with horse poop if anyone needs compost material. It’s mostly under tree cover until the ridge, but you get a few sneak peaks of Stuart slowly rising above Bean as you gain elevation. When you reach the saddle, don’t be misled, Earl is still a solid half mile or so away. Hang left and follow the ridge to the summit, which is more of a hike than a scramble.

Views are awesome. I can see why this peak is so popular. The entire Stuart range is spread out below you, and everything between you and Stuart has a red tint, which makes Stuart’s dark granite look quite dramatic. I sat down to have a snack, and greeted a few older ladies who were at the top, who were full of recommendations for hikes and showered me with compliments about how I was hiking alone (with the “be careful!” disclaimers). Hell, if I’m still hiking Earl at that age, I’ll consider myself a success. They knew so much!

Looking down the ridge to Bean with Ingalls and Stuart in the background

They turned around to head down before I did, which is good because they might have thought I was nuts for going to scramble from Earl to Bean. Alone. But it didn’t look that bad, and I knew it could be done. I knew there were some small cliffs directly below me, so I dropped down to the Bean Creek Basin side just a bit to traverse to the beginning of the ridge just below the cliffs. That mean some light class II scrambling, some veggie belays, some scree slopes, and plenty of checking how close to the cliffs I was. Eventually, I popped out along the ridge. Woo! Time to run.

I gotta work on my ten-second-timer selfies

There’s nothing like running along a ridgeline. Especially one where the Stuart range is your backdrop. There were a few rocky sections to scramble over once in a while, but there’s a faint boot path along the dusty sections. Coming up to Bean, I ended up on a class 3+ scramble, so you can definitely find an easier route but you know what, I was enjoying myself. Until I met the damn pika. Halfway through maneuvering myself up a short (~9ft) chimney, I hear some scuttling followed by a shriek. I literally thought someone had fallen and gotten injured, or some paranormal mummy was coming after me (I never said my fears were rational). I froze and whipped around to see a Pika staring angrily. Okay, you tiny bastard, I’ll hurry up just don’t do that again. I popped over the top of the chimney and quickly got out of sight of the pika. Freaking rodent. I may be a wimp but I’ll take you.

Pika

I hopped up to Bean Peak to soak in the views again. Summit register was nice and dry this time around, so I signed it and had another snack. I debated continuing on to either Mary/Judi or Volcanic Neck/Devil’s Head, but was feeling lethargic and lazy, so I just went back down to the basin. It was totally different from when I was there last time (there was snow last time!) but I eventually intersected the trail after plenty of farting around off trail (you can see where you’re going, so it’s not that bad, just don’t kill all the flowers) and started running again.

Secret flower patch!

I came across the most gorgeous secret patch of flowers while I was at it. Maybe a half mile from the Bean Creek Basin trail, towards Bean Peak. I couldn’t believe the colors. Red, yellow, purple, green, all in one patch. I just want to roll all over it. But then they’d die, so I settled for a few pictures, and a snapchat to make sure everyone knew how beautiful my life is. After that, I continued back along the trail, and was back at the car pretty quickly. The few miles back are a very, very gradual downhill (uphill when you’re starting) so it was both quick and easy on the knees. Yes!

Back at the car I again debated a second hike. I had all day, and I had only used up a few hours. Nah, still lazy. Lazy day. But you know what? If scrambling from Earl to Bean Peak is my lazy day, I have a pretty good life. And the mountains will all be there in the future, so I’ll tackle that full ridgeline someday.

Note: My summit panoramas from last time I went up Bean and from this time are nearly identical. Check out last time if you want a late-April/mid-June comparison. Some snow vs no snow!

Bonus pic: Butterfly patch!

Mt. Pugh

Posted on July 1, 2015 by evejakubowski

Lee coming around a bend

Mt. Pugh (also known by its hilariously awesome native name, Da Klagwatts) has been on my list since way back in September, when I spent what was probably several hours every day looking at pretty much every hike on wta.org and organizing every one I wanted to do in a word document. That was the beginning of an era, really. Now I’ve branched out to summitpost and old maps and word of mouth, but I can thank the WTA trip reports for lighting the fire under my ass. And Pugh, interestingly, was one that I marked specifically as “maybe you shouldn’t do this alone, looks like it might be a difficult one.” All I knew was that it had a scramble at the top and some exposure, and my newbie hiking brain ranked it above the rest. Back at this point, I was your casual Kendall Katwalk/Annette Lake/Mt. McCausland hiker. If it even occurred to me that I had lost the trail, I’d get anxious. Now losing the trail is just a matter of fact, and I clamber back to wherever I went wrong.

Distance: 11 miles round trip
Elevation: 5300ft gain, 7201ft highest point
Weather: 70’s and sunny
Commute from Seattle: 2:15
Did I Trip: Once on the way up, once on the way down. No faceplants.

Starting out through the trees

Well, that was nine months ago. Now it was 6/17/2015. Pugh sounded like a walk in the park at this point, and it was time to give it a go. I expected to be solo, but Lee was free this afternoon, and had never done a scramble before. Perfect. We were planning a tentative trip to Gothic Basin to tackle Gothic Peak and Del Campo and I figured this would be the perfect way to whet her appetite. Or test her limits, as it turned out. I knew she was physically capable of it and wouldn’t be in danger, so I figured we’d play it by ear. She’s the type of friend I can trust to proclaim “eff you Eve, I’m not doing this part” if I push her too far, so I don’t have to worry about peer pressure. I’m sure I’ve said it before, but I never want to be the one who has someone follow me outside of their comfort zone just because I was doing it. I can be an idiot.

We got to the trailhead around 1:30pm. Yeah, late start, I know. We had headlamps. Lee joked that she wasn’t going to bring hers, but knowing me, she should be prepared for anything, and tossed it in her pack just before she left. Also, we drove right past the damn parking area the first time around. It’s on the side of the road, not at the end! There’s a nice turnaround at the end though and someone was camping right there. I had to wonder if they were chilling in their tent while we got out, Lee peed, I checked the map, and eventually turned my bright yellow loud ass car around.

Lake Metan

The trail starts off through forest. The growth isn’t too thick (but it’s still bright green, don’t worry) and the trail is unbelievably soft dirt. There are a few small waterfalls/creeks in the beginning, but once you reach Lake Metan, you’re on your own for water. The lake pops up a little after 1.5 miles in, just a small brown lake with the shoulder of Pugh (I don’t think you can see the true summit) peeking over it. Head left at the lake (right will take you to campsites, I believe) to stay on the Pugh trail.

We head some scuffing in the underbrush and something ran across the trail. I probably wouldn’t have noticed if it weren’t for Lee’s shocked GASP “HOLY SHIT WHAT IS THAT” and we stared at it until it registered “oh OH wait it’s a toad COOL!” We had heard croaking but I didn’t expect to see one. Nor did I expect the jarring shot of adrenaline that apparently accompanies tiny animals in the woods.

Heading up to the pass, Sloan peeking around the corner

The remainder of the trail was uneventful in terms of wildlife, but amazing in terms of scenery. Honestly, it didn’t feel as steep as I had expected, and it would have been completely runnable had I been solo. The forested trail continues for another mile and a half, where you reach the bottom of the slope that leads up to Stujack Pass. We had glimpses of peaks through the trees, but here’s where it opens up. The trail is suddenly rockier with scree-covered sections, and finally starts gaining altitude quickly.

And the views! Mt. Forgotten is directly south across the valley, and you can see straight west to Whitehorse and Three Fingers. Which, as a side note, I flew over – I was writing this while on a plane a few days ago! Luckily the guy next to me (in the window seat, lucky bastard) saw my face light up and let me point out all of the peaks I could recognize. Anyway, as you get higher, you can see Sloan sticking out beyond the slopes of Pugh, and the Monte Cristos just next to that. You’re hiking up a narrow trail surrounded by green and wildflowers, which is pretty amazing in itself. I saw thistle blooming for the first time in my life! Much more purple than I expected. We took frequent water breaks, and I chose possibly the worst scrubby scree section for a bathroom break. And of course, fifteen minutes later, we were at Stujack Pass.

White Chuck framed by Baker and Shuksan if you look closely

Lee along the ridge

Gaining the ridge, the first peak you see is White Chuck, which is less impressive when it’s summer and not covered in snow. But framing White Chuck are Baker and Shuksan. Head right to follow the ridge, and soon you enter the Glacier Peak Wilderness. One of the best wildernesses. The trail up here narrows, and is under some tree cover at first, until you break out along the knife edge part. Which, god dammit, I will run someday. It’s a narrow rocky trail with a bit of exposure, but you’re on top of the world surrounded by 360-degree mountain views and it’s definitely runnable if exposure doesn’t bother you. Rolling ups and downs, nothing too steep, just make sure you trust your footing. I snapped plenty of pictures of Lee and the peaks in every direction. Turns out Lee has a bit of a fear of heights, and from the ridge to the top was a mental battle every step of the way. I knew she was capable of it, it just depended how her mental war with instinct went with every step. I learned that the phrase “I don’t love this part” is Lee’s way of saying “holy shit am I really doing this I’m freaking out.”

Ridges all day

Looking down at the Straight Glacier

The ridge for the most part has an outcropping of rock on one side that you can hang on to if you don’t like exposure. And for the brief sections that didn’t have that railing of sorts, lowering your center of gravity helps. We didn’t crawl anything, but I watched Lee kind of squat-walk across a few very open areas while telling me how she didn’t love it, no she did not. There’s actually a small glacier as you reach the end of this ridge, called the Straight Glacier. It’s in the middle of a fault that runs through the entire mountain, which divides it into two very different types of rock. Greenschist, which from my understanding is terrible for rock climbing, and some type of quartz diorite which is much better. Just past the glacier (which you don’t cross, you just hike above it) on the nice rock is where the scramble starts.

One more pic of Lee along the ridge

The scramble looks intimidating (fun?) until you’re right below it and can see the route. There’s a dip in the rock that cuts diagonally along the face, making it a much easier grade than going straight up. And honestly, that’s the only section where you might need hands, depending on how comfortable you are with scrambles. The rest of it was more or less just an exposed, steep rocky hike. Every time Lee stopped I looked back and stared at her wondering if this was it, if this would be the point where she turned around. And she always joined me, after a few solid minutes of debate and some muttering about how unfortunately, she did not love this part. And that’s essentially how the next hour (which is how long the last mile took us) progressed. But that means more times for pictures and views and soaking in the very notion that we were in the middle of mountains climbing a small peak. On a Wednesday. While everyone else I knew sat in their offices.

Taken on the way down, but you get the idea

Fairy moss

After that first bit, which felt like the only real scramble, the trail alternates between rocky (maybe a light class 2 scramble) and a regular well traveled trail. Yes, the drop off is steep, as it was on the ridge, but it’s easy to follow the trail and if you’re worried, there are tons of handholds on the rocks on one side of the trail. Lee is a rock climber, and it was fascinating watching her find handholds when we were on the more exposed sections of the trail. We passed a few patches of snow, but the trail itself was snow free. The vegetation was much more scarce up there, but there were packs of wildflowers here and there, and a blooming moss we dubbed “fairy moss” because it looks like something out of a fairy tale. Hell, I didn’t even know moss bloomed. I learn something new on every hike.

(bad ass) stretch break

I do think one of my favorite moments of this hike was when I rounded a corned on the trail and waited for Lee. It had been a few minutes, so I shouted back to see how her battle with heights was going. “I’m fine!” she shouted back. Was she? Would this be the point where she stopped? I waited, in silence. And finally, the brim of her sun hat peeked slowly around the rock. Very, very slowly. Eventually the hat brim was joined by a hand, grasping for holds on my side of the boulder. And last but not least, the rest of Lee made it around the corner, only to see me giggling at the slow-mo cartoon scene unfolding in front of me. Too perfect.

Trail beyond the scramble

The trail gets more and more clear as you get to the top, and finally we made it to the final stretch of small boulders. There are many remnants of the old lookout, mostly metal cables lying all over the place. I hopped up on one of the rocks and almost fell over. Glacier Peak! I had completely forgotten that this peak leads you to a panorama where Glacier Peak takes up your entire field of vision. I turned back to Lee and told her not to fall over when she saw the view, to which she replied with a string of Bostonian vulgarity and “DON’T TELL ME THAT RIGHT NOW” as I chuckled (and felt a little guilty).

Made it!

Glacier Peak had far less snow on it than I thought. Probably because the last time I had seen it up close was weeks (months?) ago. Maybe this is just how it looks in summer with evening light on it, since it was about 6pm at this point. We naturally took a break here for snacks. I was in such a hurt to leave that all I had was cheese and bread I stole from my roommate (thanks Pattra, I took the multigrain bread that’s been sitting in the fridge since like February) and a honey stinger gel. But I mean that’s basically dinner (cheese sandwich) and dessert (honey with some B vitamins). Sweet. Crap, I’m hungry. You have to pay for the snacks on this plane, which is bullshit.

Lee doubled in my panorama

There’s another “glacier” I was curious about. There was definitely something that looked like a glacier on the north face of Pugh. I think the Straight Glacier is the only official one. The one on the north face was tiny, absolutely tiny, but it definitely had that look of old glacial ice peeking through snow. Maybe now that it’s so small, it doesn’t qualify anymore? We’re talking 200sq ft, if that. I wonder if it was larger decades ago.

Lee’s relief after making it past the scramble. Lee: 1, Pugh: 0

While we were thrilled to make it to the top, the battle’s only half over at that point. Going up is optional, going down is mandatory. Lee admitted that a few of the times she nearly stopped were because she was thinking about how she’d have to get back down these sections too. Fortunately, the way down went more quickly and seemed much easier than the way up. And now that she was feeling a bit better (lots of scooting on her butt here) she asked me to see if I could get pictures of her looking bad ass. Challenge. Accepted.

It was basically an invitation for me to scramble off trail and see if I could set up in a spot where I could try to capture the steepness and exposure, which was much more difficult than expected, especially because I had to avoid putting myself into a position where I could fall, and a lot of the best angles were blocked by, well, rock. Steep rock that I can’t climb. But I got a few good ones. And my personal favorite, Lee lying with relief at the bottom of the scramble after coming back down. Lee 1, Pugh 0!

I was so excited that we had done it. It’s always very cool watching someone successfully push their limits. And it’s even better looking back on where you were a year ago. Lee mentioned that just a year ago, she’d never have been able to do anything like this, and here she was hiking along an open knife edge ridge. And for me, looking back on my notes beneath Pugh saying maybe bring company or wait until you’re more experienced, it’s funny how straightforward the hike was compared to much of what I’ve been doing. Could I have done solo it last fall? Yeah, I think so. Would I have been anxious and stressed the whole time? Definitely. Much better to wait until I had developed more confidence with scrambles, navigation, hiking pace, gear and supplies, etc. And I love being able to point out peaks around us, which Lee kindly tolerated for the entire hike. I couldn’t do that last fall!

Along the ridge on the way back, with Baker, White Chuck, Shuksan, and a chunk of the North Cascades

Back at the ridge, the going was quick. It’s so freaking gorgeous. We were back at Stujack pass pretty quickly (my phone died at one point so I have no Strava record) and missed seeing sunset there by maybe 15 or 20 minutes. We were too fast (ha! fast compared to the way up, at least). It set while we were in the trees heading back to Lake Metan, and we could see the brilliant pink and red and orange colors through the trees. I bet it was spectacular. But we were eager to get back to the car. I freak myself out on dark trails.

Shadows along the ridge

We actually made it back without headlamps, though we probably could have used them for the last 20 minutes or so. By the time we got back to the Mountain Loop Highway, it was dark. I texted Pattra and Lee called her boyfriend so people knew we were alive and not lost or injured in the woods, and didn’t make it back to Seattle until around 11:30, and I rinsed off in the shower (you’re welcome) and went straight to bed since I had to be at work at 8 the next morning. Worth it? Totally worth it. Pugh makes you feel like you’re legitimately climbing a mountain in the wilderness while staying pretty tame. No highways to listen to or ruin your views, some sketchy sections of trail, plenty of rocks to climb over, and some exposure to test your mental game. And Lee’s finally got her first scramble under her belt!

Hibox Mountain

Posted on June 8, 2015 by evejakubowski

View northwest from the summit

After a slow start to Thursday, I figured I didn’t have enough time to tackle a brand new peak, so I went somewhere I was already pretty familiar with: Hibox Mountain. I hadn’t done it before, but the first half of the trail is the Rachel Lake/Alta Mountain trail, which was one of my first hikes out here and a personal favorite. I had seen the small spur that leads to Hibox last time, but had no idea what it was. Hiked 6/4/2015, this was my chance for an answer!

Distance: 7.7 miles round trip
Elevation: 3960ft gain, 6547 highest point
Commute from Seattle: about 1:20 without traffic
Weather: 70’s and sunny with a ridge-cloud-scare
Did I Trip: Yes but the plethora of veggie belays saved me

Forecast was “partly sunny,” and driving through Snoqualmie Pass I was expecting worse. Thick clouds everywhere, some drizzle, pretty mediocre. I decided to take my chances with Hibox instead of going all the way to Earl, since I didn’t feel like driving another hour. The road to the trailhead has recently been graded, and was much better than the last time I was there. Not a single pothole, you can cruise along at 30mph spouting dust and dirt behind you if you so desire.

Getting to the trailhead, I had the first casualty of the day. Actually the only casualty besides pride and disappointment (to be discussed later). The first casualty was my god. Damn. Shoelaces. Which ripped. And I didn’t have extras. Shoelaces, that is. I had three other pairs of hiking shoes, so I grabbed my La Sportiva Synthesis and threw those on instead. Shortly after my brief minute of stomping around and throwing shoes and laces on the ground and swearing, two people came up and asked me where the trailhead was. Ha! No, I can’t laugh, the first time I did Alta I couldn’t find the trail either. It’s across the gravel road from the parking lot. I directed them to it, packed up the rest of my things, signed in at the trail register, shook my head and grumbled about my boots, and started to put one foot in front of the other.

Hibox above the meadow

The first 2.3 miles of the trail are flat and very well groomed. This is why it’s a favorite trail run. The turn to Hibox is about 2.3 miles in, after you pass through the second big meadow with great views of Hibox above you looking nice and pointy and intimidating. I had heard the trail was doable, but this was another “okay, one step at a time and we’ll see what happens” hike. No one saw me leave the Rachel Lake trail. I snuck off to the sneaky Hibox trail.

In my head, I’ve divided the Hibox trail into three parts once you leave the Rachel Lake path. The first third is through forest. Steep, full of roots, it’s not really a trail. Even “bootpath” is a generous label. Lots of blowdowns, lots of veggie belays, lots of fighting branches and leaves and spiderwebs and ants only to pop out 15ft later with the “trail” somehow still in front of you. It’s a test of picking which logs have been stepped on the most and following those. There are a few clearings to cross and the trail attempts a few switchbacks, but overall it’s you vs the woods.

Rampart Ridge beyond the wildflowers

The middle third is meadows and some light scrambling. And meadows mean views and wildflowers! Rainier is finally creeping above the clouds in the distance, and Rachel Lake was sparkling in the sun. The clouds spilling over Rampart Ridge looked very neat, and I had a few brief moments of “FOMO” thinking about how awesome the ridge to Alta must be with one side in clouds and one side in sunny blue skies. I imagined it’d be like the ridge back at Mt. Townsend in January, just without snow (so not that cool, but close). But I focused on my own trail. Alta later, Hibox now.

And I mean, I can’t complain. The wildflowers were gorgeous. What’s that? You want me to climb up these slopes and rocks covered in yellow and red and pink and purple? Yeah I can do that. The trail through the meadow is very vague, but most of the social paths meet eventually, and just make sure you’re heading north, not quite towards the rocky summit. You’ll cut that way later.

Lemah and Chimney Rock (and maybe Bear’s Breast?)

The third part of the trail is rocky talus fields and a third class scramble. The talus fields have almost no trail – a few cairns, but one led me to the wrong side of the peak according to the map and I had to backtrack. Essentially, you want to aim for the right of the scramble, so gain the ridge east of the peak before starting up the boulders. As usual, you have one of those “whoa…” moments where you get to the saddle and soak in the views below you on the other side that you had no idea existed until you got there. The best feeling. And in this case, that meant Lemah, Chimney Rock, Summit Chief, ugh. One of my favorite ranges. A little more remote, and very rocky and alpine looking. Spiky and snowy and damn do I need to find buddies to come climb those peaks.

Clouds over Alta coming towards Hibox

There’s a 15ft tall chimney to get past, though it looked like you could skirt to the left of it if you aren’t a fan of up-and-over. From there, just follow the ridge to the summit. It’s definitely class three, but not as much exposure as I thought, and not as long as I thought either. Only the very last part is a scramble. I couldn’t find a summit register but I’ll settle for a USGS plaque, I guess.

The coolest thing about this hike was the clouds. Rampart Ridge and Alta had holding off the clouds all day, and now they were moving down along the ridge towards me. I could see them roiling and they hesitated around Nobox (a less prominent peak between Alta and Hibox) but the clouds on the right kept streaming east. At least, I thought they were, until I watched the time lapse! They were just writhing and roiling, not actually moving. That’s pretty cool to think about, though. I was so convinced they had covered another peak by the time I left. Time lapse of clouds over the Chimney group, which I refuse to embed because I still can’t figure out how to make it not automatically take up the entire width of this column.

Goat!

Finally I saw a bunch of mist rise from beneath me, and got a bit spooked as the clouds were finally overcoming Nobox, my last line of defense. I didn’t want to downclimb in thick fog, so I wrapped everything up and scrambled down damn fast. I took another break just below the talus field, since the rest would be easy navigation. And of course, the clouds never got me. They stopped just short of Hibox, and I bet I missed a damn good show up there, too! Regrets. I kept looking behind me to see if the peak was finally covered and it never happened. Interestinly, the summitpost page mentions that Box Ridge seems to keep the lousy weather on the west side “boxed out,” and keeps it from slipping onto the east side of the Cascades. This was a pretty good example of that.

Going down honestly wasn’t much faster than going up. Back through veggie belays, wishing I had stiffer, higher boots (damn LACES! Eff!) and scraping ankles and calves all along underbrush. Oh, are fire ants a thing in Washington? An ant got stuck in my pants and I didn’t realize it until it had bitten my ass several times. Yeah, you can laugh. I laughed a little, after I cried. I kid, I didn’t cry. I just swore a few more times. Something about the woods makes me more crass.

Section of the Rachel Lake trail

I was a little bummed to be back in the forest. If I had more time, I’d have tried to bag Alta too, with a quick dip in Rachel Lake. Or, you know, if I could teleport. Or if I had worn my trail runners. But alas, it was already 5pm, meaning I’d be back at the trailhead around 6, meaning I’d avoid Seattle traffic! Yes!

No one saw me come back from the Hibox trail either. I was hoping there’d be someone nearby, to exclaim “whoa! Where’d you come from!?” and I could be the ghost hiker who came out of the woods in the middle of nowhere. I actually didn’t pass anyone besides a girl taking her dog for a quick walk closer to the trailhead. There were tons of bugs in the fields and cottonwood seeds (I think? those cottony clusters that float everywhere that aren’t dandelion seeds come on I know what dandelions look like) hovering in the air, and they had settled on the surface of the river I had taken so many pictures of last time. The pussywillows were all leafy now instead of having their fuzzy pieces, but it’s pretty cool knowing what they are.

Hibox was a totally cool hike. Hibox Strava Map, and I have GPX files as well if you’re interested. It was tricker than Alta and I believe 400ft taller, and (okay, I haven’t been to Alta’s true summit just yet) I believe it has a better angle of my favorite sneaky ridgeline. I’ve been eyeing Three Queens, which has similar views, so we’ll see how feasible that is in the near future. But Hibox had views and scrambles and bushwacking and a little minor route finding, all while convincing myself I was on a secret trail. Pretty solid for a relatively close, afternoon hike!

Rainier poking above the clouds

Bean Peak & Red Top Lookout

Posted on May 5, 2015 by evejakubowski

Glacier lillies in bloom

Good god I have been lazy. Usually writing these is a fun side activity, but I’ve been wiped the past few days. This hike is from almost a week ago. My first solo hike in a while, the forecast was rainy (crap) so I took off yet again to the land of fun and sun (yay!) on the other side of the cascades. Solo scamper up Bean Peak, here I come! Hiked 4/29/2015. Yes, that’s the day before my last post about Rachel Lake and Rampart Ridge. So many people were asking about that area that I

Distance: 6.5 miles round trip
Elevation: 3000ft gain (I think this is off), 6743ft highest point
Weather: 40’s and sunny
Commute from Seattle: 2:30 without traffic
Did I Trip: No but I fell in a creek

Trail next to Bean Creek

I got started earlyish in the morning. I hate sitting in traffic, so if I can sneak out at 6:30 or 7am and beat the Seattlites (who seem to wake up late compared to where I come from) then I’ll do it. I like to hit the highway, throw on some trance music, and enjoy cruising through the mountains. That’s how this went. Snoqualmie Pass was rainy, and when I crossed over into the sun, there was an enormous freaking rainbow in my rearview mirror. Even the road to the trailhead had been smoothed over! No potholes until the last mile, which turns off the main Teanaway road, that was rougher. I got to the trailhead around 9am, and took off.

Anyone know the name?

The first half mile of the trail is along an old road that leads to the Beverley campground. It’s marked with pink tape in case you somehow manage to lose a trail that’s six feet wide. When you come to an intersection between the “Beverley Turnpike” and the Bean Creek trail, take the Bean Creek trail. The trail follows alongside the creek, with glacier lilles and some other flower I haven’t figured out yet blooming all along the sides of the path. You listen to nothing but the river and birds chirping, a great break from the city.

Don't underestimate it. Or, don't be clumsy.

Don’t underestimate it. Alternatively, don’t be clumsy.

You can see Earl up ahead to the right for most of the hike, but Bean doesn’t come into view until you’re towards the end of the creek. There will be a few peaks that look important, but they turn out to just be shoulders of Judy. The first creek crossing looks easy but don’t be fooled. I dropped a pole and it nearly got swept away. And on the way back, I stepped on a rock that wasn’t as firm as I thought, and it rolled and dumped me into the water. I’m graceful.

Wonder how long it’ll be there

Keep following the creek until you cross it one last time and face a fork in the trail: the right takes you up switchbacks to Earl, and the left, temporarily labeled “Bean Creek Basin Trail” will take you to the basin, which you can follow up to Bean Peak.

Cairn leading you across the basin (Judi’s on the left, Bean on the right)

The trail was almost completely snow free until the basin, which had patches of snow here and there. If you look carefully, there are cairns leading you across the meadow, and a small boot path (lightly traveled trail in this case, not prints in snow) appeared on the other side. I followed this until it disappeared beneath patchy snow and rocky scrambles, and started to make my own adventure.

Looking west along the ridge to Judi’s

There was a small outcropping of rock above me, which I figured couldn’t possibly be Bean Peak. So I continued to traverse west across the slope, aiming for a huge, rocky snowy peak that looked imposing enough. I didn’t want to cross too many avalanche slopes, so I mostly snuck along rocks and gained a low point on the ridge. I did take out the ice axe for a few small snow fields, but they could have been skirted. Microspikes were completely unnecessary. Again, one of those gaining-the-ridge moments where suddenly you see everything below you, Ingalls on the left and Stuart to McClellan in front of you.

I turned around, and wait a minute – that rocky outcropping was huge. Shit. Was that Bean Peak? I found a flat (ish) rock along the ridge and whipped out my map. Yup. That was Bean, and I had been aiming for Not Bean Peak. God dammit. Okay, backtrack. I scrambled down a bit and went back across the snow slopes, and then climbed back up towards Bean from the west. I wasn’t sure what to expect since most approaches I had read were from the other direction, but it was very doable, though a bit steep and exposed at parts. The way back down on the east side was much easier.

The Stuart range from Bean Peak

Sneaky register! Yes!

I dropped my bag behind me and took a quick snack break at the summit to admire the views of the Stuart range as usual. I still wasn’t 100% convinced that I was on Bean. If only there were a summit register or a plaque or something. I turned around to grab water from my bag and look! A PVC pipe! That can only mean one thing. Summit register! I unscrewed it and the notebook was frozen solid. I lay it in the sun to dry, but of course it just got soggy. I tried etching my name in pencil, but I don’t think it stuck. My original goal of Not Bean Peak was actually Judi’s Peak.

Looking east down the ridge to Earl, Navaho on the far left

The clouds to the west were a little menacing without the rainbows of earlier, and they were creeping east. It wasn’t even noon, so I glanced over at Earl and debated walking the ridge to bag a second peak for the day. Given the clouds (and the fact that the wind had just changed direction and picked up) I decided against it. Going down was much quicker than going up, and I made it back to the basin in no time. Past the junction between the basin trail and the Earl trail, I ran into two happy hikers in shorts and sneakers with nothing. “Where does this trail go?!” I looked them up and down and suggested the basin, since they didn’t look like they’d be down to climb snow and rocks to bag some peaks. The basin is a worthy destination in itself. In fact, there are several peak loops you can do if you want to bag up to 9 peaks in a single trip, and the basin might be a good place to camp before starting. Here’s a map for five of them, and the others are Earl, Mary, Judy, and Bill, though you might have to get creative for some. Oh, and maybe run the easy parts if you’re aiming for a high number.

Looking down a scramble at the valley below

Getting back to the trailhead, I still had over 5 hours of daylight, so I thought I’d drive a bit further and check out Red Top Lookout. This peak had foiled me and a few buddies back in December. We wanted to go sleep somewhere under the stars on the east side for a meteor shower, and Red Top Lookout seemed like a good choice. Short hike, high elevation, we just forgot one thing: just because it hadn’t snowed in a week didn’t mean that there wouldn’t be ice. In fact, the entire road was beneath several inches of ice. I got as far as I could in my Accord and waited for my friend in her pickup truck, assuming she’d be able to get farther. Turned out her truck was rear wheel drive. Even worse for ice. We had to backtrack to find where she got stuck, and help push her truck all the way back down the forest road. Oh, I should mention it was about 1am.

Cloudy Stuart range from Red Top Lookout

So seeing the road in daylight was quite a change. If either of our cars had slid off the road that night, we’d have been toast. Luckily the road is now completely melted out. Still rough in places, but passable by any car that’s willing to take their time. You can see the lookout pretty much from the parking lot, so you know it’ll be a short hike. I got to the top within a few minutes and damn was it windy. The hike to the lookout is less than a mile round trip if you skip the agate beds. It was so windy that I wanted to just be done with it, so I took the short route. Of course the lookout was locked as well, but the views were spectacular. I could look back and see the Stuart range now in clouds, and the peaks I had been near in the shade. I chose a good time to leave. I’ll go back to Red Top to check out the geology in the area, since it sounds pretty rich (albeit a little picked-over by now, according to WTA).

Zoomed in pic of Stuart

The Bean Peak hike has it all. Creeks, wildflowers, waterfalls, snow, scrambles, views. Here’s my Strava map, you can see where I overshot Bean Peak and ended up on the ridge between Bean and Judi’s. Because of that, the mileage and elevation are slightly less than Strava says. You know when you have those days where you actually realize you’ve made progress towards something you’re learning? This was one of those days. Six months ago I’d never go off trail, or find my own way up to a peak, or scramble anything solo, nevermind a class 3 (okay, mostly class 2) area I had never done before. I didn’t even think twice about all of it until I was on my way home. It’s a good feeling.

Strava Map of Bean Peak

Gene’s Peak/Teanaway Peak and Iron Peak

Posted on April 27, 2015 by evejakubowski

Iron peak summit

Blog post #50, baby! I should probably be figuring out how the hell I’m going to introduce Scott Jurek to a couple hundred people at REI before his presentation today, but I was too eager to get started here. 50 posts, some good, some bad, some awkward, but all worth the time and effort. And if I may say so myself, I do suck a little less at photography now compared to my first few. So here we go. I had been worried because the forecast for the Cascades was pretty crummy, but we went off to the secret land of sunshine. A great day out in the Teanaways, 4/23/2015.

Ridge coming back from Iron

Distance: 7.3 miles round trip (both peaks)
Elevation: 3370ft gain,
Weather: 30’s-50’s and sunny
Commute from Seattle: 2:30
Did I Trip: I don’t think so?

Getting out of Seattle was a mess. Seattle traffic, an exploded pipe in Kayla’s bathroom, a park n’ ride with no parking spaces left, picking up water at a gas station, missing the exit off i90, I could go on. But we made it to the trailhead (De Roux Campground) in one piece. And promptly spent another 15 minutes trying to find where the hell the trail started. Long story short, there’s a small lightly traveled trail that brings you from the campground back to the road, and the real trail starts on the other side of the road. Finally, we were off.

Starting off along the trail

Everyone wore light mountaineering boots, and I tagged along in my barely-even-qualify-as-trekking-boots. They had never failed me before, and I hoped if it actually got tricky, I’d just go last and by the time I got there, they’d all have kicked nice solid steps for me. The trail switchbacks up along the side of the valley above Eldorado Creek, and was snow-free for the first mile or so.

Flowers starting to bloom

There were a few flowers starting to bloom, and everything is looking a bit greener than a month ago when I was along the same road hiking to Ingalls Lake. There was a light bootpath to follow as we started to hit patchy snow, and finally we were off the trail altogether.

Switching to loose dirt from snow

When we broke out above the trees, we swapped trekking poles for ice axes and aimed directly for the saddle. The snow wasn’t too deep, and it was compact enough that we didn’t have many postholing issues (a relief compared to what I slogged through back at Squire Creek Pass). We followed snow halfway up the slope, and switched over to some loose dirt for the rest of the way. Gaining the ridge, you have Gene’s Peak just a scramble away to your left, Iron Peak a ridge-walk to the right, and Bill’s Peak smack in front of you with the Stuart range behind it.

A quick bit of history: Gene’s Peak has been renamed Teanaway Peak for some reason, which is too bad because Gene’s and Bill’s Peaks were named after the two Prater brothers, who allegedly developed the first lightweight metal snowshoes. Bill’s Peak retained its name, but poor Gene got demoted. We’ll try to keep it alive for a while longer.

Starting down the ridge to Gene’s Peak

Kyle had been to Iron peak just two days earlier, so we went for Gene’s first. We had a choice: follow a bootpath up a steep section of snow, or scramble along the ridgeline. We decided that the runout on the snow didn’t look too good – short, steep, and rocky – so we decided to scramble. Fine by me, I actually love scrambles. I mean I’d be thrilled to do either, but something about scrambling just gets me excited. We walked along the ridge to the base, stashed the ice axes, and started up.

Brian and Kayla up above

Brian, resident trail runner, basically ran the scramble. He was mostly out of sight ahead of us, so I followed Kayla’s route as we tried to trail where Brian had gone. It was mostly a class 2 scramble, with a few class 3 sections. Lots of chossy rock (guys look I’m using my new vocab word) and plenty of rubble to try to avoid kicking down on those below me. At one point, Kayla’s gatorade fell out of her pack and ended up a few dozen feet below us in a steep, rocky gully. Man down. We weren’t sure we could get it, so we continued on.

Ingalls (left) and Stuart (right) from Gene’s Peak

The last stretch to the top was a walk. Brian beat us there by a solid 15 or 20 minutes. The top was pretty windy, so we snapped pics and set up just beneath the summit for snacks. Amazing views of the entire Stuart range with Ingalls and Daniel (mostly hidden by clouds) on the left.

I brought enough food for a small African village. I’m a walking grocery store. I like having enough food to share with everyone, and yes it’s heavy, but that means I’ll get more in shape, right? So I had a half pound of cheese, half a pound of salami, two huge avocados, an entire box of wheat thins, two unopened bags of chocolate covered blueberries and pomegranate seeds, a bag of parmesan crackers, what am I forgetting. Maybe the 3 liters of water. If we ever get stranded and I only donate one bag of snacks when we pool our survival stuff, you know I’m hoarding food. So I ate like a king. And the more I eat, the less I have to carry down, so no one has to feel guilty about sharing my snacks.

Stuart range from Gene’s Peak

Panorama from Gene’s Peak

Brian juggles while waiting for us, Iron Peak along the ridge in the backdrop

We headed back down to the saddle after maybe 20 minutes. Downclimbing wasn’t that bad. I’m flawed. I don’t have that inherent fear of heights that I imagine was advantageous from an evolutionary perspective. It never occurs to me “oh, I could die or seriously get injured if I fall here.” And when I do, it’s with a shrug of my shoulders, not a shot of adrenaline. I think I’m just too focused on footing to worry about it. At one point, I was standing near Kayla and we hear “ROCKS!!” and I look up (mistake) to see Kyle sheepishly standing above us with a bunch of small rocks spilling down the gully towards us. Kayla hit the ground and covered her head (she was pretty directly beneath the rocks) and I jumped out of the way, but let me just say looking up is NOT what you want to do. Waste of time. Just get down and cover your head as fast as possible. Whoops. But that was the closest thing we had to an issue, besides the rogue gatorade. Which Brian somehow retrieved before high-tailing it down the rest of the scramble and beating us to the bottom, despite his detour. I can barely run trails across talus slopes, nevermind a scramble. Time to work on my footwork.

Goats!

At some point, someone turned around and realized that goats had taken over our snack area at the summit. They came out of nowhere! I couldn’t get a great pic, but I swear the white lumps in this one are two goats. I’m sure our salty crumbs tasted delicious. I’ve actually only seen mountain goats out here twice now. The first time was at Lake Ingalls back in October, when the goats were just casually strolling around the trail with clearly no concerns about humans. Which freaked me out, so I skirted around them instead of taking 100 pictures like all of the people around me. These guys preferred to give us space.

Views along the ridge

At the saddle, Kyle and Kayla took a break while Brian and I decided to walk over to Iron Peak. Yeah, you know it, I’m becoming a peakbagger. It looked close and easy, and I couldn’t pass it up. We were right. It took us about 15 minutes to walk to the true summit, alone a ridge with small cornices hanging over one side and melted-out rock on the other. The summit had a register! Woo! We signed it, and noticed that most of the signatures from April and May of 2014 had notes about ski touring and snowshoeing in them. There probably wasn’t even enough snow to skin up the peak this time around.

Stuart range behind Bill’s Peak (from Iron Peak)

I swear Stuart looks bigger from Iron Peak, but it’s just the fact that it’s framed by Gene’s and Bill’s. After a few minutes at the peak, we ran back down the ridge, and I got to spend 90 seconds pretending I was Killian Jornet. It was just under 30 minutes from the saddle to the peak and back, so absolutely worth it if you’re looking for a good two-fer.

Cornices along the ridge

It was pretty windy at the saddle, so after more snacks Kayla and I headed back down to the tree line to wait for Kyle and Brian somewhere warmer. Plunge-stepping through the loose dirt (we skipped the steep snow) was much easier on the way down, and we sat on an outcropping of rocks to wait for the other. For what felt like an eternity. We heard a shout at one point, but couldn’t see either of them. How long should we give them before climbing back up to the saddle on a rescue mission? 10 minutes? Nah, they’d yell again if it was that big of a deal. Right?

Heading back down from the saddle

Soon we caught a glimpse of Brian running through the trees above us (of course) and shouted so they’d know where we were. They had taken a different route down from the saddle, so we waited at the bottom of the slope only to be pummeled by snowballs raining down from Brian and Kyle above us. I started running and narrowly avoided a snowball whizzing past my head. When was the last time I was hit by a snowball? It must have been four years ago. When did I get so old and boring?! I didn’t bother fighting back. My aiming skills are… sub par. I once missed hitting a tree with a papaya from about three feet away. If you want to look good playing catch, bring me along. I’ll make you look like an all star baseball player. But you’ll have to run for the ball a lot when I miss by 100ft. No, wait, can I throw that far? Okay, 15ft.

Following our footsteps back was straightforward, and soon enough we were back on dirt trail. I didn’t realize just how long the dirt section was . We were moving quickly, more quickly than the way up, but it felt longer. I whooped when we finally popped back out onto the road, and found our way back to the car. For once, I had remembered to bring a change of shoes so I didn’t have to sit around in my boots. Tip: Don’t forget socks. Like I did. Shit.

Red line shows our path up Gene’s (credit to Kyle)

Strava map can be found here, and above is a nice pic made by Kyle that roughly shows our scramble route up to the summit of Gene’s Peak. The snow field would have been doable as well, but I have to admit, I did enjoy the scramble.

We stopped for burgers at a fast food place where we demolished some huge double burgers and plenty of fries. I could not have asked for a better hike. Nevermind the 50th blog post, that’s just a silly stat. I just want to get out there and learn more often, and this hike was a perfect mix of snow, rock, and trail, with awesome views and an alpine feel to it. More, please!

Overlooking cornices on the way back from Iron

Have Tent, Will Travel

Trail running, mountaineering, and the occasional wipeout

Category Archives: Scrambles