Wow, what a trip. Clint when we got back to the cars said something like “damn, I can’t believe we just did that so smoothly, and i have a full time job AND a kid!” and I laughed and said “and I work at amazon!!” It doesn’t sound like much but to anyone who knows tech, amazon is… not the place to go for any sort of benefit, comfort, or work life balance. I have no idea how my coworkers with kids do it, nevermind young kids. It has been an especially heavy few weeks where I’ve been pulled into meetings at 7am, 9pm, and everything in between. I scarf down food because I don’t know how much time I have. I sit at a desk for far too many hours straight. At the end of the day my legs are stiff and sore and achy and it’s not from working out.

Well, the past two weeks the unstoppable force that is my job met the immovable object that is my hobbies. Yeah, sure, I’ll work sunup to sundown. But then I’m gonna go climb sunup to sundown. Work hard/play hard is certainly a balance, though it’s one I never expected, and some maintenance pieces of life are taking a hit (cooking, cleaning, yardwork, social life, RIP dating). But it’s working, at least for now. Turns out when work is intense sometimes I just need to push back on it with something else equally intense, and this was that trip.

• Distance: ~20mi round trip
• elevation: ~7k gain
• Weather: hot, then smokey and overcast, then hot
• Distance from Seattle: 2hrs
• Did I Trip: slip n slide tripped my way down the saddle above camp but no traditional wipeouts

Inspiration has been on what I call my “selfish 10” list going back to around 2015 when I started learning to climb. The selfish 10 is (or was, because it’s fewer than 10 now) a list of climbs that I will bail on anyone and anything for. It’s like 25yo me gave future me permission to bail to get these done. At this point it’s down to six peaks, so progress is being made, albeit slowly. Honestly, last summer I was thinking my climbing career was coming to an end. I hadn’t climbed even in the gym nevermind in the alpine, I was out of shape, I did a single overnight trip, friends weren’t climbing as much anymore, the list goes on. Work was the new priority. I thought maybe someday I’d hire a guide for the trips I really wanted to do and just let go of the rest. Fast forward to this year and here we are, getting after Inspiration as if I had never stopped climbing. And I didn’t have to bail on anyone or anything to do it, though I appreciate my past self setting this amusing boundary.

Sparknotes:
1) Don’t carry 6L of water in one pack on summit day, go for two smaller packs
2) Yes carry crampons/ice axe up and over
3) Bears were not a problem but mice and goats were BOLD
4) Glacier is getting broken up but still goes and will for a while if you don’t mind traversing far left
5) Rock is mostly low 5th class besides the two crux pitches, both of which are a blast on great rock. The 5.9 crux had an airy friction move exiting the crack I would not have even remotely enjoyed on lead. Simul from false to true summit, could also simul everything from glacier to ridge but pro was scarce in spots and rope drag is annoying
6) Spectacular position
7) the approach sucks. “7/10 cascades bushwhack approach but at least there’s a trail” as my friend Eric put it
8) I like poles, especially for the shitty slope down to Terror Basin on the approach, and to save my knees on the de-proach. I like to think it’ll buy me an extra few months/years before eventual knee replacement.
9) half liter water bottles on your harness for quick access = ultimate hydration

We met at the Marblemount ranger station around 7am and got permits hassle-free. We rented a mid size bear can that I managed to pack quite elegantly (seriously) and were on the trail by 10am. The “overgrown road” is really not that overgrown. It’s a little brushy in spots, but lots of beautiful mossy open forest. We knocked out the first three miles quickly. The only running water we found on pretty much the entire approach was a stream right before the trail turns off the old road and heads straight uphill. Top off water here because you’re about to be out for hours.

Starting uphill my body was going on the fritz. I still don’t know what happened. Probably hydration related. I would be overheated, but when we stopped I’d get chilled quickly. It wasn’t enough to make me worried but my body clearly wasn’t compensating normally. I handed the rope over to Clint and resigned myself to this being a slow slog even if it meant meeting him at camp in a few hours. Clint had run 20 miles two days before this, which for many people would mean “I’m kinda too tired to carry a rope” but my interpretation was “fuck yeah he can totally handle the rope.” Fortunately our pace was slowed by the abundance of blueberries and huckleberries (which can also be red??? I thought they were only blue like blueberries?! edit: everyone else already knew they came in red edition). We ran into a few other groups, one of which stepped aside to let us pass and I (still 20ft behind) shouted “no i’ll take the break!!” and heard them laughing through the brush. We continued the slog upwards. Everybody warned us about the hornets “near the dirt staircase with a rock wall to your right.” One guy’s arm was swollen like a squash or something, he laughed and said “yeah they got me” and rolled up his sleeve. We managed to dodge them, though we basically analyzed every single stretch of steep dirt with any rock on the right to the point where I couldn’t help but remember “Blind has predicted 112 of the last 5 tech layoffs” or in our scenario, “we’ve predicted 7 locations for the 1 hornet’s nest.”

The trail eventually turns north and starts to traverse, except the traverse isn’t much of a traverse. I was picturing like nice rolling hills through heathery subalpine meadows but no, it was short trees and bouldery gullies and waist high brush. The very last mile, if that, has views, but it’s still up and down on your already shattered legs. And the final 300ft drop into terror basin? OOF. You climb a nice talus gully to a saddle, and look down the other side… kitty litter and loose rock on hard packed dirt. The hillside is crumbling. We hugged the right wall where there’s a rock band you can at least hold onto, and since it trends right you (mostly) won’t knock rocks down onto your friends. I took zero pictures of this section because I was too busy being sweaty and trying to avoid falling to a silly and untimely death.

In all it took us around 5-6hrs to get to camp. For a 7 mile trail if that puts the trail into perspective. On good trails I average 20min miles, on steeps usually still under 30min, this was a different beast with overnight climbing packs. We grabbed pretty much the first campsite we saw, which was enormous and flat and amazing and right next to running water. We yard-saled our food everywhere (“look at you bringing real food” Clint said when I whipped out a 12″ Bahn mi “yeah really food I can’t carry”) and laughed at the thought we’d have been able to fit it all in the bear can. Clint needed his own like 5 gallon bear can. I ran around taking wildflower pics as usual. We sorted gear for the morning, watched a helicopter search for someone on Degenhart (so maybe my death would have been timely, because a helicopter was already en route for other reasons), watched another party struggle back up the stupid dirt slope above camp, and I fell asleep before sunset, swearing I’d catch it from camp Sunday night after the climb (narrator: she did not, in fact, catch sunset from camp). Clint had lined up a bunch of episodes of National Parks After Dark to fit the mood in Terror Basin, and while the stories were good, none were truly spooky, and apparently podcasts are a good way to put me to sleep. I love sleeping in the alpine. If not for the bugs I’d have bivvied.

We intended to be up at 4 and moving by 4:30, but my alarm went off at 4:30 instead, and we were moving just after 5:30. The traverse to the glacier is straightforward, but longer than it looks. In short, you traverse rolling subalpine hillside (very rolling, and on redundant terrain) losing some elevation to cross the outlet stream below McMillan spires, then gain a bunch of elevation on various ribs of slabs to the toe of the glacier. Most of the terrain goes, but there is some surprising microterrain that’s too small to show up on maps, but significant enough to be a chokepoint. Like a small creek that was somehow 20ft down in a huge rock gorge like 8ft across so you couldn’t jump it or downclimb. The outlet to the lake below McMillan spires, which was similar. I had several gpx tracks from different trips that all converged at a few points through those obstacles.

From camp, I had spotted a good route up the glacier, but once on the glacier, couldn’t figure it out as easily as it had looked. “Well it can’t be that bad if no prior trip reports mentioned it, right?” We ended up crossing wet slabs in crampons to avoid some broken snow, and then zigzagged up through very open crevasses when it would have been easier to stay on consolidated snow traversing far climber’s left and making one big switchback back right to get to the base of the route. This was actually pretty demoralizing for me, because we lost a fair amount of time and I didn’t want to deal with this sort of hazard late in the day on the way down. Beyond the maze of near-seracs (you could hear them shifting) we had to hop a few small crevasses and cross one legit snow bridge. The crevasses just kept on coming. Finally we reached the rock. We immediately found an easy place to transition from snow to rock and started the climb. Moat was not a problem.

The climb is super mellow at first. We scrambled until we hit the base of a chimney, where we took out the rope and climbing shoes. There are few things worse than crampons scraping on rock. One of those things is carrying a pack with crampons and ice axes strapped to the outside, that can now scrape and snag on vertical rock because you’re trying to worm your way up a chimney. I threw chimney technique to the wind and just trusted some powerful jugs. Beyond the chimney we were back on easy 3rd-5th class terrain. We traversed up and climber’s right for four pitches, following a heather ledge for a bit and then climbing up steeper but fun, blocky rock, entirely avoiding the lower dirty gully that gets you to the low notch in the ridge. Honestly, I preferred our route over how the gully looked. Our route felt like a good, clean warm up.

We took 5 pitches total (more like 4.5) to the base of the headwall, which is obvious as soon as you’re close to the ridge. Could have been 4 pitches but I set up a truly spectacular rope drag situation on the 4th pitch to the point I thought I was going to pull myself off the mountain. At the base of the headwall, we chugged water and stuffed our faces with food, because we had one pack that contained SIX LITERS of water and food for probably days, not to mention two pairs of crampons, two ice axes, and several jackets. There was no way I was going to climb the cruxes with that much weight, even following. 

Just past the 5.8 layback (which is one very fun layback move and I found myself wishing it was longer) Clint threw me a loop of rope to clip the pack into, hauled it up, and clipped it into a piece of gear so I could climb without it and grab it above the layback. I think I liked the 5.8 pitch more than the 5.9 pitch but probably just because it was more within my comfort zone. Just very fun climbing.

The 5.9 pitch though, holy cow, how does that crack even exist?! I wish I had a better picture! It’s truly a splitter crack. I can’t wrap my head around how such a crack exists in the middle of this crumbling ridge. Unbelievably clean. Perfect size for my feet. A little big for my fists at most points but I can stuff an arm in there. Clint bumped a #3 up it for a while, then you get to play with two smaller cracks for a few moves, then an airy friction move to traverse right, and a gymnastic exit to a great belay station (no concerns, contrary to prior trip reports) where he could still see and easily shout to me. The helicopter from the prior day was back and circling Degenhart again, still no idea what it was up to but the sound of the chopper blades added some spice to the ambiance. Reminiscent of the thunderstorm rolling in when I was following a similar challenging (for me) crack on Cathedral Peak.

I figured I could do this 5.9 pitch with the pack since it was more vertical and the 5.8 had been a piece of cake. A few moves up I had to take (as in, hang from Clint’s belay). Holy shit. Crack climbing hurts, and I’m tired and weak. How can something be so fun but so hard. We hauled the pack again. I felt 1000x lighter. Didn’t matter, took again a few moves later. At the traverse friction move I was thinking I’m just going to have to swing for it (hooray following) but right as I was about to commit to the pseudo-fall my right hand connected with a great jug and I made it across into the new crack and scurried the rest of the way up. Super strong lead by Clint, he made it look so easy it boosted my confidence.

Beyond this, we didn’t know what to expect. Like the glacier section, we figured “well no one talks about the ridge from the crux to the summit so it can’t be that bad right?” Correct. We swung leads again and ended up simuling the entire ridge from false to true summit. Felt like Forbidden Peak, in fact, blocky climbing with big holds and great feet. and some spots with very fun exposure, including an au cheval opportunity and another “sidewalk in the sky,” neither of which I have pics of because simul climbing requires focus and consistency since you’re coordinating pace and rope slack (ideally) with your climbing partner. And soon enough we were on the summit and I was staring at the heart of the Pickets crushing cheez its and jelly beans and just basking in the alpine. How freaking lucky are we.

The helicopter returned yet again, this time hovering over Degenhart, then landing below us on the glacier, then dropping two people off on Degenhart. Still no idea what was going on. We started rapping down the west ridge (truly the ridge, do not drop onto the face yet). It was mostly gross kitty litter slabs and low angle rappels, and some STUPID short raps but we were advised to not skip any, and that advice was correct. A few raps had easy downclimbs associated, but overall we always reached a rap station and only two were questionable. I don’t remember what cued us into starting to rap the S face instead of the ridge. One of those two questionable anchors was set up by yours truly, after we decided to skip the last two raps down the south face/arete and rap directly east down to some wet slabs to get back on the snow. Upon seeing the slabs I said fuck no, if you’re comfortable downclimbing this you can belay me as I downclimb, or we can rap off this block and rock horn and I will sacrifice a quad and some webbing and a dash of my pride. Back on the snow, I nailed the glacier route (had plenty of time to map it in my head up high while staring at it from above) and we were off the glacier within like ten minutes, it was actually amazing. 

I summoned some goats with my pee on the slabs (terrifyingly fast) and we chugged more water and had moree snacks before setting off down and left. We tried to stick to slabs over talus and heather for as long as possible. The gpx tracks were maybe helpful, but most of the terrain pushed you towards the right spots anyway, so we were conscious of the tradeoff of paying too much attention to the tracks vs just going. I finally caved and turned my headlamp on.

We found the outlet stream fairly easily since there’s really only one section to cross, and then the traverse from the stream crossing back to camp took approximately forever. We might have taken a detour through the twilight zone. We might be in a different universe than we were the prior day. I can’t be sure. But suddenly we were surrounded by wildflowers, and I knew exactly where we were because I had taken so many pictures the prior day. And then we were at camp eating hot food (bears were not a problem) and then watching the perseid meteor shower and suddenly i woke up to close my tent door and pass out again. It had been a 17hr day, everything went smoothly, and I was perfectly content and completely wiped and far more hydrated than usual thanks to chugging water all day to avoid carrying 6 freaking liters.

I got up at 6am. Clint muttered from his bivvy “what are you doing awake” idk eating, bathroom, wildflowers, stoke? I went back to sleep around 730 because why not. When the sun hit the campsite we started packing and got moving around maybe 10am? We took the same route back up the shitty dirt col, using the rock cliff as a safety net. Clint found some sturdy sandals that had melted out from under the snowpack and we slapped them on his pack. I appreciated the traverse way more this day, the skies were clearer the views were better and it felt like unexplored alpine. The trail down went faster than the way up, but it didn’t feel fast, it felt more like a knee banger though I was able to eat berries faster going downhill than uphill (more breath? can see them coming? can grab a handful while cruising?). We took a decent break at the major creek crossing back at the old logging road, and were back at the car by 4:30pm. The ranger station closes at 5!! I NEED TO KNOW ABOUT THE HELO! I jumped in the car and drove straight there only to find out that actually, they closed at 4pm. There was no gossip to be had.

We dropped off the bear can, I stopped to crush a burger alone at Burger Barn (tell me not to get the fries next time. I always get them and am never hungry enough for them no matter how hungry i think i am) and I got back home absolutely glowing with alpine accomplishment. Which is great, because it put me in a super resilient place going into the work week, which was about to kick my ass. But I was cruising on alpine and corporate accomplishment, and a tickle of the old hunger I used to have for the alpine. Those pickets, man. There’s something special about that area. I have a few more trips in mind, but only one is reasonable in a 3-4d span and the rest are more like week long objectives. Gotta be ready to lug 50lb packs again. No more couch-to-pickets training plan.