Mount Saint Helens

September 19, 2015

After nine months of discussion, planning and preparation, the big weekend was here. This was it. It was Friday afternoon and I stood at the Climbers Bivouac looking up at the mountain. She stood there before me wearing a fresh dusting of snow on her summit and I was humbled. Would she find me worthy of a successful climb? Had I done enough to condition? Had I done enough to help my friends condition for their ascents? As I awaited the arrival of the rest of the group, I queried climbers returning as to trail conditions. I set up our group campsite, ate dinner, and enjoyed the quiet camaraderie of my friend Stan, who came early with me. Throughout the evening the rest of our group arrived, one car at a time, each filled with their own excitement and doubts. Once everyone had erected their tents, we climbed into our bags and attempted to get some sleep.

0330 - We awoke early and got dressed. Each person busied themselves double-checking their packs to ensure nothing was being left behind. Water was topped off. Radios were handed out and climbing permits affixed to packs, then each of us signed in on the Climbers Register.



Tips of fir trees glow silver in
the light of our headlamps

0450 - We then stepped onto the trail. We were officially on our way. Headlamps illumed the trail ahead as we headed through the forest of the lower portion of the trail. Other than the sounds of our boots on the soil, there were no sounds. I was quite sure I heard the tree knock of a sasquatch, but that very well could have been my famously over-active imagination having fun with me. Our goal was to reach the top of the timberline in time to catch the sun rising over the Cascades and Mount Adams to the east.

0630 - Since my first trip up the mountain three years ago I have wanted to catch the sunrise from the timberline. I'm not a photographer, and I rarely (if ever) have planned out a shot to this extent. I couldn't even be sure the sun would rise where I'd pictured it in my head. As we neared the edge of the trees however, I was thrilled beyond words. The sun was rising exactly where I thought it would. The previous grumblings from my co-climbers were assuaged by the glorious sight unfolding in front of us. All of a sudden our early departure was worth it. As we stood there on the trail, the day truly awakened in front of us.

 

 

 

 

Photo by Chris McGraw

 

0700 - We sat on the boulders at the transition between the timberline and the boulder field, watching the dawn unfold before us as we ate breakfast. It was one of those moments I will remember the rest of my life. We then loaded our packs on our backs and started the serious part of the climb. For the next two miles we would be tackling the boulder field. The side of Mount Saint Helens is littered with boulders and scree which were previously her top portion. They create the most difficult portion of the trail and words cannot begin to put into perspective the task that lay before us. It was this portion that did me in on my last climb. I stopped for a moment and said a silent prayer to the spirit of the mountain.





Photo by Steven Payne

Pat laughs at the seemingly endless boulder field. Photo by Holly Scheyer

1100 - After what felt like a small eternity, we finally made it past the boulder field. It was at this point, three years ago, that my legs were shaking from the exertion. I had almost given up, knowing that if I continued on I likely wouldn't make it back down. As we prepared for the next leg of our ascent - the scree field - I took a moment to reflect back on the journey that had brought me this far. I was tired, but my body was handling the demands of the climb to this point. I breathed a sigh of relief and quietly uttered "I got this." Then upward I pushed. We had half a mile left to go with another 1,000 vertical feet to gain before reaching the summit.

 

The challenge of the boulder field is difficult; it drains your strength and tests your resolve. In my case, every muscle group is used - legs, shoulders, back and arms. The boulder field is followed by a field of loose scree - small gravel, sand and ash - that is roughly 6 inches deep and difficult to get footing in. Add to that the degree of incline (40-45 degrees) and slushy snow, and you now have a whole new level of hell that Dante missed. The air here is thinner than we trained in (8,500 ft elevation) so our lungs had to work harder to fuel our exhausted muscles. Although only half a mile, progression is slow. Each stride yields little advancement as your foot slides halfway back in the scree. It can best be described as "one step forward, two steps back".

Working my way up the scree field with Mt Adams in the background. Photo by Stan Waldrop

1200 - Seven hours after leaving the trailhead the last of us reached the crater rim. Perhaps not the fastest time you'll hear for summiting Mt St Helens, but we weren't there to set records. We focused instead on the achievement - we all made it. At the top we rested, ate lunch and ... Typically the view from the top is phenomenal but the clouds had moved in as we climbed, pretty much socking in the top. They briefly parted for a moment, blessing us with a picture window view of the crater, the 'breach', and Spirit Lake to the north.

 

Picture window view from the top. Photo by Holly Scheyer

Our group; Joe, Chris, Holly, Pat, me, Mike and Stan.

1300 - As we prepared for the return trip, we heard the clattering of falling boulders from inside the crater. Stan witnessed a particularly large boulder break loose from the side, as if jettisoned, and tumble downwards. This happened two more times. Having experienced something similar on my previous trip, that time a new steam vent had opened up, I summed it up to a couple of mini-eruptions. Mt St Helens is still an active volcano and experiences non-eruptive occurrences such as this, however she isn't threatening eruption soon. Nonetheless, to be safe, we heeded her warnings and headed back down. Upon our return we looked up the seismic charts for that period and my assumptions had been correct - there was some small seismic activity for all three noted times.

 

Our descent back down the mountain was uneventful. There were no snowfields down which we could glissade, so we made our way back down the boulder field. My knees started feeling the exertion, but they held up to the demands being placed on them. The quads and hip flexors that tormented me all season gave me little, if any, trouble. However, I didn't sigh a sigh of relief until I was again at the timberline. From there it was a relatively quick 90 minutes to camp.

As I traversed the two mile trail through the forest, I felt an energized 'pip' to my step. It was here, three years ago, that my legs totally gave out. I required the help of my friend Becky and her son to make it back to the trailhead. This year I had strength in reserve.

1730 - A fire awaited us in camp. We were blessed to have Sarah and Chris as our 'Camp Angels' this year, and they had worked for hours preparing for our arrival back at camp. Not only was a comforting fire going, but dinner was simmering away on the stove. We toasted our adventure, our journeys to get to where we were and our success. We roasted marshmallows, shared stories, laughed and celebrated our accomplishments. I sent up another silent prayer, this time of thanks. I had been judged by the mountain and found worthy.

 

 

Distance hiked: 10 miles
Elevation gained: 4,910 ft
Maximum elevation achieved: 8,365 ft

Pratt Lake

September 5, 2015

Looking out over Pratt Lake - photo courtesy of HIWalker Photo

Our original plan this day had been to hike the trail to the summit of Dog Mountain, a 9 mile trek with roughly 3800 feet of elevation gain. It's an abandoned trail, so we made a pit stop at the Ranger station in North Bend to glean what information we could and to purchase the necessary maps. What we learned is the road out to that entire wilderness area is impassible ... unless you have a (very) high clearance vehicle, which my Mustang is not. He recommended, as an alternative, the trail out to Pratt Lake which is 11 miles round trip.

The Pratt Lake trail shares a trailhead with the route to Granite Mountain, which we hiked a few weeks ago. We shared the trail for the first mile, then split off onto our own adventure, while the majority of our fellow hikers headed up to the lookout. The first leg of our hike was on a nicely maintained trail with moderate elevation gain. A few of the puncheons (foot bridges) are beginning to show signs of decay, but the WTA has had work parties out on this trail stripping cedar logs in preparation for replacing them. The dedication of volunteers to the maintenance of our state's trails is beyond compare.

The higher we climbed, the more the colors of the foliage changed, reminding us that we were hiking in that spectacular season known as autumn. I breathed deeply, partly because I was almost out of breath, but also to take in the aroma of the forest. The mosses, trees, stream beds and forest floor all add aromatic tones to an olfactory symphony that just can't be described. We stopped at the junction with the Olallie Lake trail, where we enjoyed a moment's respite and a quick bite to eat.

Eventually we reached the ridgetop, where we had views of Olallie Lake below us, as well as our first peek at Pratt Lake. The evergreens here were adorned in cloaks of lacy Spanish moss, which made them look as if covered in hair, and the maples showing their autumn color. We met a pair of older hikers, in their mid-seventies, who have been hiking together since their boy scout days. They regaled us with tales of hiking in the old days before bidding us adieu as we parted ways.

Olallie Lake

From the ridgetop we began the descent down into the Pratt Lake basin, and we gave up most of the 2,300 feet of elevation we had just gained. We had to make our way across a boulder field as we worked our way down, and we kept hearing the "Eep! ... Eep!" of pikas. We stopped and trained our eyes up the hill for a glimpse of one scurrying around the boulders taking care of business.

We finally made it to the shores of the lake, where we enjoyed a delicious lunch. There's just something about hiking in the woods that makes food taste better. We spent a full hour there, soaking tired feet in the icy coolness of the lake, taking photos of the astounding scenery. The only way it could have been more remarkable would have been to have blue skies. You'll not hear me complain though, as the milder weather meant no bugs.

We spent an hour at the lake before cleaning up, making sure to leave no trace, and donning our packs for the return trip.

Heidi and Zillah climbing the boulder field

Just as we were nearing the end of the trail, the forecasted rains hit. We quickly tossed our packs into the car and called it a day.

Looking back, I am very pleased with how well I did on this trail. The elevation was less than what I was hoping for, but at eleven miles, this was the longest trail I've done yet. We were on the trail eight hours (not counting the hour for lunch), which means our pace was faster than it has been all year. Due to the gradual elevation of this trail, I really didn't struggle much with either ascent or descent. Looking back over my year, I can see that I have come a long way in my conditioning. Have I come far enough for Mt St Helens? Only that trip will tell.

Distance hiked: 11.0 miles
Elevation gained: 2300 ft
Max elevation achieved: 4100 ft

Mailbox Peak

August 29, 2015

Mailbox Peak. It is an uninspiring peak in the Alpine Wilderness area of the Snoqualmie-Mt Baker National Forest that bears an ominous reputation. Amongst the hiking community, the trail is legendary and the name uttered with quiet respect. The 'old' trail ascends 4,000 feet in a little over 2 miles; it's unrelentingly steep and treacherous. More rescues have been performed on this trail than any other trail in the state. Trip reports from many hikers simply state "I did it." Last year a new trail was completed that is longer, safer, and easier on the knees. My ascent up Mailbox Peak utilized the newer, saner route.

The newer trail up Mailbox Peak is longer and not as severe, but it's still steep. We climbed for about four miles up switchback after switchback, through a second-growth forest with little understory. At some point in the past a forest fire burned through this area, but it was hard to tell how long ago by the size of the trees through which we hiked. I trudged uphill at my slow-but-steady pace, stopping only occasionally to catch my breath. My legs continue to strengthen and I'm happy with how well I am doing with the ascents.

Just when we thought we'd never get there, we came to the junction with the old trail and the real fun began. In the next half mile we covered 960 vertical feet. To put it in perspective for my non-hiking readers, we stair climbed to the top of the Eiffel Tower. Realizing that this 'combined' section of the trail was indicative of what we'd passed up by hiking the new trail, we were happy with our choice.  


Portion of the combined trail

Storm brewing on the horizon

Watching Jorge finish his ascent

As soon as we emerged from the relative protection of the tree line, we encountered the day's forecasted wind storm, which wasn't supposed to hit for another two hours. We were hit with steady 15-20 mph winds with gusts of 25+ mph. The winds made an already difficult hike much worse. I would take a few steps forward and a gust would almost knock me off my feet. I had to turn my back to the wind, dig my trekking poles into the ground and lean into them with my chest just to stay upright. I'd wait until I could stand more or less upright, take a few steps and repeat the process. With roughly 200 vertical feet to go, and no reprieve in sight, I chose to stop where I was and retreat to one of the few available trees to wait out the storm. My hiking partner forged on ahead and eventually made the summit. 45 minutes he returned to where I was taking refuge from the storm. The winds continued to build, the gusts intensified, and rain and hail had joined the party. This, apparently, was not my day to summit. We turned to face the wind and started down the mountain.

I continue to be pleased with the progress of my conditioning as I noticed less difficulty with the descent. We stopped for lunch about midway down as our bodies were screaming for recharging nourishment. Refueled and energized after a meal of salmon, cheese, eggs and nuts, we continued our journey down the mountain.

I didn't summit Mailbox Peak, but not because I wasn't physically able to. I didn't summit because it simply wasn't safe for me to do so with the weather conditions such as they were. I am okay with this fact. The mountain isn't going any where and I definitely plan to return. Soon.

Distance hiked: 9.25 miles
Elevation gained: 3800 ft