Sasse Mountain Ski Tour

Posted on April 13, 2021 by evejakubowski

You know those trips where expectations are sort of at rock bottom, and then everything ends up being amazing? This was one of those. We had our minds set on the Chiwaukums, but upon getting home Saturday night and realizing there was way more fresh snow than we anticipated followed by a sunny day, we figured we’d hedge our bets and pick something less ambitious. The stoke was tempered, motivation was fading, we were pitching ideas like the Tatoosh for the 183498th time or Hyak laps. Guys. It’s going to be sunny. There’s fresh snow. Let’s explore somewhere new. I pitched Sasse Mountain, which honestly I had really only heard about snowshoers doing, but looking at caltopo, there were definitely some sweet bowls back there. And assuming those bowls were full of snow, that meant skiing.

Distance: ~10mi round trip
Elevation gain: 3600ft (5,700ft highest point)
Weather: 50’s and sunny
Commute from Seattle: 2hrs
Did I Trip: Powder faceplant, yes

We met on Salmon La Sac road at 7am. There are two options to this peak: skin like 6mi up a road (boooo) that avoids most avy terrain and then go cross country at the end, or boot up through a forest (boooo) cross country from the start and negotiate some forested avy slopes. We chose the latter, because skinning roads is boring and booting straight up is fast.

Except we couldn’t find the trail. I’m still not sure where it starts, but we could see the old roadbed the trail follows for a bit from the road, so we just walked straight to that and followed it. It was dry. Really dry. We negotiated a stream crossing and started to gain elevation, only to find… more dry slopes. Where. Was. The. Snow. We started to worry that there wouldn’t be any good skiing. We started to lower expectations. “I mean, this is boney, but I’d ski it” “yeah it’s not bad” “dust on crust but mellow enough maybe it won’t suck” “it’s still a workout at least” “yeah better than staying in town” “all backcountry skis are rock skis right” and finally, FINALLY we got a glimpse of the views. Panoramic views of the “Snoqualmie Pickets” (heard that the other day and love it), aka the chain of Lemah/Summit Chief/Bear’s Breast, with Hinman and Daniel to the east. Okay, okay, so at least it’s freaking gorgeous here.

And then we rounded the corner onto the first sharp ridge. And BAM. Beautiful open ski slope, right in front of us. Dane did a quick shear test on the snowpack since it was a similar aspect, and about 8″ slid cleanly off. Okay, so we agreed that while we were all drooling at the prospect of skiing that face, we weren’t going to do it. And that was fine, because after a few more rolling humps and bumps and transitions from windblown pockets of powder to scoured ice and cornices along a ridgeline, we found out the face was frozen solid. Avy danger? Nah. Skiing? …nah.

My skis popped off twice traversing steep icy slopes as we sidehilled to avoid cornices, so I booted it the rest of the way up the ridge, postholing the crap out of Dane and Robert’s skin trail. “Why’re you setting such a shitty skin trail?” “Why are you so shitty at skinning?” Dane and Robert carried us along with their trash talk. We were almost at the top when I realized that we hadn’t gone nearly far enough to be at the true summit. Dammit, this was that knob on the way, Not So Sasse. Which was way sassier than Sasse given its ridges and cornices, and actually had better views due to the lack of trees at the tippy top. You could even see Stuart poking out over Jolly Mountain. We skiied down to the saddle between the two setting off some baby storm slab sloughs in the process, and quickly skinned up true Sasse, which was covered in burned trees, was far more mellow than it looked, and you spent like 15 minutes traversing 500ft to gain 10ft of elevation to get to the “summit.” But along the way, we were oggling the shady tree runs coming off to the west. And from the summit, we decided to ski directly down to the bowl through the trees. We started off on ice, timing turns for pockets of powder. But three or four turns later, we had PERFECT POWDER.

We giggled all the way down. HOW is no one else here?! Powder stash!! Bluebird powder day! Darting through open burn zone trees leapfrogging our way down we popped out into the bowl only to find… someone’s skin track. Dammit! It’s been discovered! But uh, should we utilize this and do another lap? No one protested. Back up we went. And the second run was just as good.

One interesting thing about this area is that it was part of a massive wildfire called the Jolly Mountain complex back in 2017. Not So Sasse and its ridgeline as well as some of the lower glades look like they were spared, but it is always fascinating getting to a view point and seeing blackened toothpick trees for miles. This is the same fire that affected Hex mountain, a very popular snowshoe slightly further south. Towns to the south of here had to be evacuated for almost a month until the fire was contained and naturally put out by the first rains in fall.

Cornices in the distance, burn zone next to life

We decided to follow the mystery skin track on the way out so we could avoid regaining elevation and skiing mediocre ridges. We figured worst case scenario we could traverse waaay south to meet our skin (or boot) track. I was cruising and about to thread the needle through two trees and WHAM suddenly I was face down in the snow, mouth stuffed with powder, blinded by snow, skis still attached and still perpendicular to my body. Like the skis had stopped and my body kept going. Turned out I wasn’t as deep in the snow as I thought, I just had eaten a bunch of it and my sunglasses trapped quite a bit against my eyes. I oooohed and ahhhed and groaned while Robert shouted “Are you okay!” and I figured well he can hear me so he knows I’m breathing, and eventually got enough air to respond “yes I’m in one piece.” Feet of powder (or slush) tend to be quite forgiving. But then I had to wrangle fully buried skis out of extremely heavy snow, which required more core strength than I’ve developed or maintained during covid.

I popped around the corner rght beyond that sneaky patch of sticky snow only to find Dane patiently waiting above a second bowl! I don’t have an excuse regarding why we didn’t ski this bowl… we should have, just to tag it. But we were focused on adventuring our way out, and so we traversed to another mellow ridge, where we found….

The second bowl had phenomenal views of the Snoqualmie Pickets in the distance

…a THIRD bowl, this one with mellow glade skiing with another party doing laps on the perfect soft snow. We could see the road across the bowl and below us, and skiied straight to it, which snuck out a few more turns. Rather than regaining lost elevation, we followed the road for a bit until we could cut switchbacks and ski straight to the next stretch of road below us, though more low angle glades. Careful of gullies if you cut the switchbacks, though, there are some nasty gullies and some sneaky cliffs. But we had heard if you followed the road the whole way, you had to put skins on for some uphill, and we weren’t having any of that. Sidestepping and switchback-cutting forever.

The theme of the day was variable conditions. Crust to powder on crust to powder to ice to the stickiest shit I’ve ever skiied, and the road was no exception. In the shade? Zoom zoom. In the sun? glop glop walk whine paddle with your poles. The trees soon got too tight so we committed to skiing the road until we were at the switchback closest to our bootpack, and then we’d switch to boots and hoof it back through the woods to the car. You can follow the forest road all the way back to the main road, but it would have been a mile or two away from where we had parked, so we went back to the “trail” we took up, and were still back at the car pretty quickly.

All in all, it was about an 8 hour tour in a completely new area with a TON of terrain and routes you can safely follow even on big storm days. I’m amazed this isn’t talked about more. And it was even better by how low our expectations were around 9am that morning as we booted crusty, patchy snow in the trees telling ourselves it was better than nothing and I reassured myself that they’d still hang out with me and take my future recommendations despite this shitty one (though secretly I was just relieved to not be at Hyak or Castle).

We had a great dinner(? it was like 4pm) at “the brick place on the right when you’re driving back to i90 through Roslyn” where we all crushed burgers, fries, beer, and water. Turns out it’s literally called the Brick Saloon and despite stopping there most of the times I’m in the area, I never remembered the name. Definitely worth giving them a visit when you’re starving and parched after a trip, and I’m so happy that things are starting to open up again. This time last year, we were sneaking around, even minimizing trips to gas stations. Feels pretty good to bring some business to the nearby towns, and to wreck a burger when I’m starving instead of driving straight home, opening the fridge, being disappointed, closing it, lowering my standards, opening it again, reconsidering… you know how it is. Here’s to many more ski tours and burgers!

One more picture – the “trail.” Have fun!

Lake Ann, Fortune Peak, Lake Ingalls, and Longs Pass

Posted on October 20, 2017 by evejakubowski

Rainier from the top of Fortune Peak

A.K.A. “How To Avoid The Crowd at Lake Ingalls.” Well, sort of. We’ll get there. Sometimes it’s easy to forget that I moved out here for trail running, since I basically didn’t run at all this year or last year (sorta due to injury). The year before that was hit and miss. Well, I don’t want to jinx it, but the injury hasn’t been as nagging as it has been the past three years, and I’m taking advantage of it. So with all of the sun this weekend and only one day to play, I figured I should get my trail running ass back in gear.

Beautiful rolling trail to Lake Ann

I didn’t want to do the Enchantments again since I did it with Cooper last year around this time, and I don’t like repeats even if they’re awesome. And the Enchantments would be crowded. “But doesn’t Ingalls also mean crowds?!” you exclaim. Yes, but you can make a loop that avoids everyone and is still mostly on trail, which was another requirement because I am lazy. I didn’t want to deal with breaking trail or navigating cross country blah blah blah I just wanted to space out and run. So I strung together a loop in the Teanaways with a little inspiration from Jessica Kelly’s blog.

As usual, not much went as planned. The second leg took me far longer than expected due to snow, as did the fifth leg. This all meant I bailed on my original plan, which had been 20+ miles. And of course when I was back at the car by early afternoon it occurred to me I probably should have just done the full loop anyway, but I guess it’s good to play it safe. Oh well, more for next time. Run 10/15/2017!

Distance: 12mi
Elevation gain: ~5,000ft if you count the ups and downs (7,382 highest point)
Weather: 20’s and sunny to 40’s and sunny
Commute from Seattle: 2:30 (it’s shorter in my head)
Did I trip slip: Slip count, ~6; posthole count, ~20 million

Doesn’t look too snowy from here!

I got to the trailhead around 9am after being stuck behind pilot cars in every lane of i90. They’re painting the white stripes on the highway, which apparently requires closing 2-3 lanes and having trucks drive 5mph in the 1-2 “open” lanes. After much whining and bitching, I finally reached the trailhead and took off towards Lake Ann, eager to get moving. And also freezing cold. I had a puffy, a windbreaker, and a wool base layer. And fleece lined Sugoi wind resistant leggings from my winter Chicago running days. I haven’t worn them in probably two years. And mesh trail runners, armed with microspikes. No gaitors.

The start of the trail was pleasant. It’s a mellow trail without much elevation gain, and quite runnable. Snow and ice were patchy, and I didn’t have a need for the spikes until later in the morning. The trail became snow covered around the turn off from the Esmerelda Basin trail, and I started following footprints. I checked the GPS periodically, because can you really trust footprints? But they looked like they were from the prior day, and they were only in one direction, so they had to go somewhere.

Lake Ann beneath Ingalls Peak

The footprints dropped me off at the pass above the lake a bit further west than the actual trail, but a nice path of postholes led me to the correct saddle, where I met the most wholesome family ever. Two parents with their two kids. One kid was so proud of how they had broken trail in the snow all the way to the lake to camp the prior night, but then he “almost died of hypothermia because the wind was so bad in the morning!!!” The kids were having a blast despite the frigid temperatures and howling wind. They had camped at the lake the previous night, and no other parties had made it to the lake. So I guess I’ve discovered my parenting goals. I don’t know many kids who would be thrilled to break trail in snow all that way.

Deceptively deep snowdrifts

I turned right and carried on my way up the ridge towards Fortune Peak, unsure of what conditions I’d run into. I’d say I was awkwardly like one week too late and one week too early. A week prior it would have been a talus walk up. A week from now it’ll be a snowy walkup. But I got snowdrifts, and barely covered talus, and fresh tree and rock wells. Yuck. I found a bootpath that took me in and out of snowdrifts, which I started to go well out of my way to avoid. Thigh deep powder with a crust on top is not enjoyable. This meant some steep sidehilling and some steep snow (kicking steps in trail runners gets old on the toes) and some third class scrambling once I couldn’t feel my toes anymore and desperately wanted to avoid snow as much as possible. Also, my gloves were not waterproof, so my fingers were MIA after like three snowdrifts.

Ingalls Peak and Stuart from Fortune

And the wind kept howling. Every time I hit that ridge it was like being blown over. So would I rather stay on the shady icy side, or the sunny windy side? Shit, I don’t care, they both suck ass. I debated bailing but I didn’t really want to go back because I’d be at the car at like 10am and that’s a waste of the day. So I plowed on and I finally topped out after postholing into talus for what felt like forever. I yelled at the wind to just give me a second so I could take a picture with my numb fingers (it didn’t listen) and high tailed it down the Ingalls side of the peak as quickly as possible, which meant more postholing but I was out of shits to give, I needed to start moving. Yes, my brain wanted to go do South Ingalls Peak, but I had done zero research and my body would be dropping f bombs if it could yell at my brain.

Stuart above Lake Ingalls

I worked my way down to the basin, where the snow changed from crust over powder to slush. So now the postholes are wet and sloppy instead of “pull your leg up quickly and you won’t notice the snow” and I finally put on microspikes hoping they’d grip the mud under the snow if not the snow itself. It worked, they did. I stuck to rock as much as I could to avoid the surprises hidden beneath the snow, and finally was back on trail, where somehow no one noticed me appear out of nowhere.

Finally, back to running! I cruised through larches to the lake (maybe a half mile from where I hit the trail) and scrambled to the opposite side, which also took longer than expected because of the half melted snow and ice covering the scrambles. I had one nice wipeout in front of the entire state of Washington (because that’s how many people were at Lake Ingalls), who were admiring both the views of Stuart and of my arms flailing as I slipped down a sloping rock.

Larches! You can almost hear my feet crunching in snow

I merged with the Ingalls Way trail, which was tougher to find in the snow than expected (needless to say the snow slowed things down a lot). I found a sweet basin with a gnarly view of Ingalls that I’ve never seen before, so I took a break to snap a quick pic. The Ingalls Way trail is a beautiful mellow trail (my section was mostly downhill, too!) that runs for I think 17 miles if you follow the entire thing, but I jumped off at the Longs Pass junction. I had originally been planning on going further and bagging Iron peak and maybe Teanaway/Gene’s Peak, something I had done years ago, and connecting back to the road via the Iron Peak trail. But after all of the snow up high, I a) was not sure how much time it would take and b) did not want to get myself stuck breaking trail/navigating with zero hint of trail and I figured it was more likely that Longs Pass had seen traffic than the backside of Iron Peak.

The view of Ingalls Peak no one sees

Well, turned out Longs Pass hadn’t seen much traffic either. The trail was promptly covered in snow and every rivulet running down the side of the valley looked like it could be the trail. I started taking out the GPS every few minutes to make sure I was on track. Footprints appeared out of nowhere and stayed consistent until I finally broke above the trees, where they mysteriously disappeared again (not so mysterious, probably covered by windblown snow) but it didn’t matter because it was line of sight from there. Back to kicking steps. In knee deep snow this time. In my mesh shoes. With numb stumps for feet. On a snow slope that warranted an ice axe and would be avvy terrain real soon (I was banking on no glide avalanches because the dirt was talus). Just go fast, there’s not much you can do about it now. Roughly in order, I would have liked company (breaking trail alone blows), waterproof boots (my feet were MIA), waterproof gloves (my fingers… yeesh), and poles or an ice axe. Instead I had none of the above, so I wrapped myself in my surly eff-this-noise attitude and scowled at how beautiful the views were, as if they were mocking my grumpiness. And Stuart, that sly fox.

Looking back at Fortune Peak and the Ingalls group from above Longs Pass

I topped out and greeted a few folks who had watched my sufferfest. I headed southeast to bag a few high points along the ridge and enjoy the views one last time before cruising back down the Longs Pass trail, which was a phenomenal feeling. The trail is on and off an old road. I’m not sure how long ago the road was in action, but you can still see sections of it even when the trail leaves it. The trail is perfectly sloped for downhill cruising, all soft dirt and slush (kept the microspikes on until the car) and most people go to Lake Ingalls, so it’s pretty quiet until you merge with the Ingalls trail just a bit from the trailhead. I only got a few glares from parties I was passing, most people were happy and one person had even run into the guy I met on the way up Fortune Peak. He had asked if anyone had run into me! It’s a good feeling knowing others remember you and are watching out. You hope there are slim chances anything goes wrong, but you never know. So there I was, soaking in vitamin D and endorphins and knowing a random hiker had my back and I couldn’t wipe the smile off my face. I forgot I liked trail running. It’s good to be back.

Except that now it’s winter and the best trails have to wait until July. Shit.

Obligatory pic of Stuart over Lake Ingalls

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!

Yellow Hill & Elbow Peak

Posted on May 15, 2015 by evejakubowski

Another mediocre day on the west side of the Cascades led me to the Teanaways for my first “legitimate” trail run in months. I’m all about those ridgelines, and chose a short, hopefully dry, snow-free one to run. I also decided to give my pair of La Sportiva Synthesis a try since I have them for product testing. They’re technically hiking shoes, but might as well push their limits. Spoiler alert: don’t run in them. Anyway, here’s Elbow Peak, a nicely exposed ridgeline out on the east side of the mountains! Ran 5/6/2015.

Distance: 10 miles round trip (about)
Elevation: 2800ft gain, 5600ft highest point
Weather: everything
Commute from Seattle: 2 hours without traffic
Did I Trip: No, my issues were deeper than tripping this time around

Wildflowers along the trail

I had read some warnings about the 4wd trail beyond the trailhead, but it honestly looked easily driveable. It probably got pretty muddy in the rain, but anyone with any high clearance 4wd car should have a pretty straightforward drive. Most of it was pretty flat, but some areas were deeply rutted. Part of me wanted to drive the road, but I was there for a run, and I didn’t drive two hours to only run a few miles. It had to be at least 10.

There are little spur trails leading away from the road, though they all join it eventually. Once it officially leaves the road, the trail becomes one big rocky rut in sections, which made some stretches to run. Sunny blue skies at first made the wildflowers light up, and there were plenty. The trail was admittedly steeper than I had expected, so I walked pretty routinely on the steeper sections. Motivation to get in shape. Shady sections after about 2 miles in had patches of snow, but nothing that I felt required traction or poles. Which is great, because I brought neither.

Ingalls and the Stuart Range

Yellow Hill is a hike in itself. It’s about 6 miles round trip, and gives you a small glimpse of Stuart. From Yellow Hill you it’s a ridge walk over to Elbow Peak (about another two miles), and since that’s the part I was looking forward to, it felt like the adventure didn’t start until I was past Yellow Hill. I descended the slope and hit the ridge only to realize the sky was divided in two: crappy weather to the right, sunny weather to the left. Hmm. We’ll see what develops.

Looking towards Elbow along the ridge

I saw my first dust devil too. I heard a whooshing wind sound, and turned around to see dirt, leaves, and debris spinning in a small circle about 15 feet away from me, moving to the left. Freaked me out at first until it dissipated after maybe two minutes of wandering the ridgeline. Some areas along the ridge were rocky, and I dipped below to avoid scrambling since I was on a roll. I kept jogging up towards Elbow, and was there before I knew it. It’s an odd summit, I didn’t totally know where the top was so I tagged few high points and hoped I happened to stumble across the true summit.

Left to right: Lemahs, Chimney Rock/Overcoat peaks, Summit Chief, Bear’s Breast, Hinman, Daniel

And at the true summit, I discovered the Lemahs, Overcoat and Chimney Rock peaks, Summit Chief, and Bears Breast. That’s a skyline that I don’t think I’ve ever seen before, and I was intrigued. I’ve never seen Daniel out of the clouds either. Seems like the Lemahs are pretty remote, but I’ll find time to at least get close to them this summer, and I’ve already got plans for Daniel. I had no idea what the peaks were, so I snapped a few pictures and posted on wta.org hoping I’d get a response. As usual, I did – thanks LDistel!

Stuart range with weather moving in on the right

I turned back, and saw the weather moving towards my ridge. Great. I’m going to be running back through the rain. Might as well get it over with. It was still sunny where I was, so I figured it couldn’t be that bad. No one minds a warm drizzle.

I was wrong. Within five minutes it dropped 10 degrees and started hailing. I was still on the open ridge, which was fairly short. Which I appreciated, because as soon as I entered the trees, I heard the crack BUHBOOOOM of thunder. “GOOD!” I shouted and glared at no one, and kept jogging. Oh, did I mention that I don’t bring much when I run? I had some food, a liter of water, and a soft shell. No rain jacket, no puffy layers, nothing for my legs. Well, maybe it’d be motivation to not stop.

Where’d Stuart go!?

Also wrong. Not even a thunderstorm can motivate my lazy ass. Getting back up Yellow Hill had one steep sections (also rutted) which I walked. Again. I’ll whip my ass into shape eventually. First run back in the mountains I’ll give myself a few free passes. Even Denny can’t prepare me for that type of thing. The hail got harder and the thunder got louder and I finally got back to the road, which was straight, easy running. Except this is where the shoes get shitty. Mud tires on cars are designed to fling the mud off of the treads, right? Well no one thought about that with the La Sportivas. They clung to EVERY PIECE OF MUD I CROSSED until I was running with tractionless bricks on my feet. Misery. But I was surrounded by marble sized hail and thunder and all I wanted was my car and a lemon honey stinger waffle.

Mud caked shoes, waiting for pilot car

Made it to the car. The honey stinger waffle was pure bliss. I drove out of there quickly, had a few chances to appreciate my mud tires, and got back to the Teanaway road just in time to sit for 20 minutes waiting for a pilot car. Worth it? Yes. Did it ruin my dream of the Teanaways being the land of fun and sun? Also yes. Turns out even the east side gets some rain.

Strava map here. This was my first hike along a trail that was also open to bikes. Honestly, I’m not sure how I felt about it. The deep ruts were annoying as someone trying to run, but I didn’t encounter any bikers which was a relief. And probably had something to do with it being a Wednesday morning. Not a spectacular hike, but a solid run, with a few more ridges to follow had I had time to bag another peak.

Bonus question for any geology gurus out there. What causes the white streaks in the rocks? Is it quartz mixed in with whatever sort of rock the ridge formed from? Seems like they’re harder than the surrounding rock since they always jut out a bit, which I assume means the other rock is wearing down more quickly.

White streaks in the rock along the ridge

Edit: Looks like the white streaks are quartz veins. The minerals are deposited by very hot water (called “brine,” “hydrothermal fluids,” “and a variety of other sciency terms that I’m dumbing down to “hot water”) rising up through cracks in the rock. As the water cools, it precipitates the minerals out along the cooler rock on either side of the cracks. Sometimes it fills up, like what I saw, sometimes it leaves pockets, where you can see the jagged crystals forming. Thanks to Emanuela for putting me on track to do some research!

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

Navaho Peak (yes, with an H)

Posted on April 4, 2015 by evejakubowski

View of Stuart from along the ridge

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

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

Dusted trail in the beginning

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

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

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

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

Almost at the ridge, Earl in the background

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

Stuart with wispy clouds

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

Heading along the ridge to the summit, Earl again

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

Panorama looking northwest from the peak

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

Stuart range from the peak of Navaho

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

Glissading down

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

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

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

Strava Map of Navaho Peak trail

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

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

Lake Ingalls II

Posted on March 31, 2015 by evejakubowski

Mt. Stuart (phone photo)

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

Surafel looking at Stuart across Lake Ingalls

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

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

Surafel with Esmerelda Peaks in the background

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

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

Nearly out of the trees

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

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

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

Mt. Stuart being ridiculous

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

Mt. Stuart back in October

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

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

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

Lake Ingalls beneath Ingalls Peaks

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

Surafel crossing hills

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

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

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

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

View of Rainier

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

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

Strava map

Xterra looking sharp as usual. Taken by Surafel

Standing beneath Ingalls Peaks, taken by Surafel

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

Lake Ingalls

Posted on October 9, 2014 by evejakubowski

I was all the way out in Leavenworth this past weekend for Oktoberfest, and figured since I was already out there I might as well find a hike to do in the area. Something too far from Seattle to justify in a day trip, but “on the way back” (loosely defined) from Leavenworth. Lake Ingalls was the answer, and I’m pretty damn glad it was. 10/10 would hike again. No, 100000/10. Just spectacular.

Distance: 9 miles round trip
Elevation: 2400ft gain in elevation
Weather: 70’s and sunny
Commute from Seattle: 2:30 ish without traffic
Did I trip: A few stumbles, but nothing legitimate

I’m just going to center this picture now because it might be my favorite of all the pictures I’ve ever taken in my life ever. The rocks on the right were way too cool to pass up, and the larches were bright yellow and the sky was a clear blue and I didn’t even realize this was a good picture until I got home. ~~I swear I’ll figure out how to make that damn sky blue~~. Edit: Fixed the sky! Not perfect, but for a first touch-up, come on it’s okay.

Okay, now that we’ve got that out of the way, I can focus on the actual hike. Which was incredible! I’m too excited remembering it to type about it. I’d go back in an instant. Skip work, toss the tent in the car, and go. Which is what I should have done. I had run a half marathon the day before, and I wasn’t sore, but I was lazy and ended up strolling this. I forgot my trail running shoes too. Usually I have a spare pair in my trunk, but not this time, so I wore regular sneakers. Anyway, parking lot was absolutely packed, but I was lucky enough to get a spot right next to the trailhead since someone was leaving (the car right behind me ended up parking a mile down the road – ha!). So many people means it would have been tough to run anyway, so no big whoop.

Bonus mountain goat

I passed tons of people on the way up. Gradual uphills and switchbacks for the first few miles. Good views of Rainier and Adams. Embarrassingly, I had to ask people “What’s the big mountain that’s not Rainier?” but it took a few tries to find someone who knew the answer. Lots of red rock, which I didn’t expect, but it made everything look very cool. Once you cross over the ridge overlooking the valley, you get great views of Stuart and all of the larches down below. There were a few mountain goats along the trail, completely unphased by people. I had never seen one before, so everyone was snapping pictures and I was standing there like can I just walk past? Will it get angry? Should I be worried? The answer is no, they’re basically waiting for you to pee because they like the salt in your urine. So go pee on a rock and consider it a fair trade for the 50 pictures you probably took of them.

This girl knows where it’s at. Her tent was perfectly situated near the edge of a rocky drop-off which you can’t quite see down to the valley, with great views. She gave us permission to take a pic. I think she knew I was wallowing in self pity and jealousy because I can imagine nothing better than seeing sunset and sunrise over Mt. Stuart and that valley in fall. What’s funny is the larches were all green towards the bottom of the trail, which started around 4000ft above sea level. I was worried when I started hiking, but the higher I got, the more yellow they became.

The trail completely flattens out once you reach the valley. At least, until the rock fields that require some scrambling. Definitely follow the cairns in those areas – I have terrible trail skills and ended up climbing some pretty large boulders. On the way down, I ended up jumping off one that was three feet taller than I am – too impatient to backtrack and find a new path. But if you pay attention, it’s doable for everyone. Lots of families hiking that day.

The last stretch up to the saddle (terminology?) that cuts through to the lake is pretty steep. No particular path to get up, just follow what seems reasonable. The lake was almost anti climactic compared to the views in the valley, but looking back on it, it was still pretty beautiful. Lots of people at the top having picnics, enjoying the views, even a few guys fishing! I didn’t see them catch anything, but they said there were fish up there. The water was so clear I was hoping I’d see some, but I never did. I only spent 10 minutes there since I had to be back in Seattle in time for dinner reservations (and looking presentable, not like I had just hiked for hours).

On the way back down, this stretch looked nice, and there was a fat, bold marmot off to the left that you can’t see in the pic (he was there, I swear). People must have fed him, because he was a foot off the trail and just sat on his hind legs staring at everyone that passed. I got called out by several of the groups I had passed on the way up, they remembered me and knew I had only spent a few minutes at the lake. “What, five minutes at the lake and you’re already leaving?!” I laughed, but it killed me to leave. I wish I had camped there, spent the night, enjoyed the views, had a picnic on the rocks by the lake, had time to climb around to the other, less populated end of the lake, maybe even gone for a quick swim. I considered bailing on dinner 100 times over, but I couldn’t pass up a Lecosho pork chop. Next fall, for sure. I’m not missing that opportunity again.

Two silver linings on the way down, if you’re really trying to look on the bright side of things. First, this goat was basically begging to have his picture taken. Okay, King Goat, I’ll take it. But I’m not going to pee for you. How’d you get up there anyway? How will you get down? You don’t look like those goats that climb dams. Too white and fluffy.

And one last picture another one that’s an Eve trail classic. Trail turning around a corner, great views on one side. The type of picture I look at when I’m unmotivated and don’t want to drive an hour to the trails. Side note for those who know me: yes, I do get sick of driving. It has been known to happen.

I saw two trail runners, one doing hill repeats on the way up (long and slow to get heart rate up he said) and one who hiked to the top and then ran down. You can’t tell how step the drop is in that picture, but it’d hurt a bit to slip off of that. But that’s never stopped trail runners in the past.

I’ll go back there to run it someday. Maybe when I’m more in shape and my uphills aren’t so slow. Once I’ve adjusted from my flatlander years in Chicago. Hike up, camp, wake up the next morning, run, and then hike down maybe? I have another 11 months to figure it out before the larches are yellow again. Plenty of time to plan, and wait. I hate waiting.

Look at that clear water. Should have gone for a swim.

Have Tent, Will Travel

Trail running, mountaineering, and the occasional wipeout

Category Archives: The Teanaways