North Cascades backcountry riding and camping - March 2008

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With the wife out of town and a free weekend, I decided to introduce our almost 14-month old dog, Coco, to some snow camping and backcountry riding. Her snow exploits had been limited to fooling around in the parking lot at local resorts, and she is exceptional at fooling around. She has great fun digging imaginary things out of the snow, leaping for and sprinting after any thrown snowball, and generally plowing around anywhere she's allowed. But I had yet to take her hiking in the snow, or amidst the elements for more than an hour or so.

I had to pick a destination that met specific criteria:
1) It had to have low angle slopes and preferably treed. Since I was traveling solo I could not expose myself to any meaningful avalanche risk.
2) The trees cannot be too dense. Coco may lose sight of me during descent, I suspected.
3) It had to be accessible. I didn't want to hike more than a hour or two in case Coco got too cold, or I got injured, and quick evacuation was required
4) Directional options would be nice to have. Lee slopes could get nice wind-load, might want to enjoy some south-facing sun, etc.

I opted for the Yodelin area near Stevens Pass resort. It seemed to meet all criteria and I have meant to get up there and explore a bit. Probably not the smartest choice to go somewhere unfamiliar, but it's near an area with which I'm very familiar and getting my bearings would be easy unless there was a complete whiteout.

We left the house on Saturday around 7am and got to the trailhead before 9am. I had hoped some stranger would beat me there and lay down a skin track to show me the way, but no such luck. Only near the top did a couple of skiers appear behind us, and, moving at a rapid clip, pass us by.

Coco started like she was shot out of a cannon. Zipping every which way, just as my brother had warned: she'll expend all of her energy in the first hour. And boy did she waste her energy! Saddled with her doggy backpack with her provisions (and my apres ski shoes), she was running ahead of me, plowing through a 5-7 inch layer of lighter, newer snow, then bounding off to sniff each tree, and so on. As the hike progressed with a rather strenuous and winding climb, she figured out that the path of least resistance lie right behind me, stepping exactly where my snowshoes had stomped, going nice and slow.



We started with a foreboding sign. Not even 75 meters from the parking lot, I stepped into a well of a small tree that had been completely obscured from the surface by snow. The weight of my body, board and large pack, dropped straight down into a snow cavity that was almost exactly the right dimensions for me and my load to fit snugly. I might have fallen down a foot or two above my head if I hadn't stuck my arms out sideways to stop myself. I would not have suffocated, but getting out would have been much tougher if I'd gone deeper. As it was, getting out was a time-sucking, energy-burning chore, and embarrassing on top of it. Some excursion, I thought... not even out of eyesight from the truck...

I always forget something on each and every outdoor trip; even a simple trip to a resort leaves me cursing at some item left behind. This time, it was my watch. No time-telling. So I can only guess that it took about 60-80 minutes of sweaty plodding to gain the ridgetop. The sky was bright and clear, and the SE slope was taking lots of sun. But the east wind was steady and cold, and it kept the surface of the snow from getting heavy and soft. So I opted to ride that side until the wind died down or the sun heated it up, neither of which happened. I put in about 12-15 laps on a otherwise untouched 800 foot pitch. Nothing impressive about the vertical, but the snow was cold and very slightly wind-packed, which made for some super fun banking turns.

Coco held up rather well. On the first descent, I told her to "cmon" repeatedly during the first 30 meters as I gained speed, and she picked up the obvious idea to follow me, bounding and pumping through the snow like crazy. I stopped at the bottom and praised her mightily for going to all that trouble to follow me, but she seemed to love it. We trod the same boot pack path back up throughout the day, and eventually, she figured out that the easiest way to meet me at the bottom was to veer from the launch spot toward that boot track, as she'd figured out that I would end up there, too. Very sharp, this pup...

I can only guess that it was around 4pm when she started sending the non-verbal signals that she was done for the day. Purposeful steps, slight shivers at the ridgeline where the wind whipped a bit at times, a sort of morose look in her eyes that she normally reserves for telling me she needs to go outside right away. I got the idea, and I had not eaten lunch anyhow, so we descended back down the north side of the ridge into some trees that would protect from the wind. I was pleased to find the snow in exceptional condition, and even deeper wind-loads than I had remembered from the ascent in the morning. Just as I dropped my pack at the chosen spot, I noticed that the clouds had crept in from the west - the direction in which my view of the horizon had been somewhat limited by the topography. The forecast indicated that a small storm would arrive in the early evening, bringing "less than an inch in accumulation" overnight, and it was here. I had gotten lucky with the timing, because as I started to dig a snow horseshoe for the tent, Coco had hunkered down near the base of a tree and started to shiver without any direct sun to help warm her.

Digging the horseshoe/cave and setting up the tent took about 30 minutes, even with a cold dog rooting me on from under a tree limb. Once inside the tent, I realized that, in my haste, I had not made the floor beneath the tent suitably flat (or flat at all, for that matter). Very uncomfortable. Plus, Coco quickly realized how much more nicer my foam-cell sleeping pad was than the pad that I'd brought for her, and she persisted in trying to weasel her way onto it whenever she could. Not to mention her interest in being nestled under my down sleeping bag, which was entirely understandable. I obliged by relinquishing the top half of the bag to her entirely, while a puffy down jacket kept my top half warm.

Dinner was comprised of a baggy of granola and a pot of soup that claimed, to my bemusement, to produce "4 servings". I found it ample for one hungry belly, no more. Just as with most other backpacking trips, I expected to go to bed just after dark. I had planned accordingly by not rushing to bed on Friday night; even with 5 hours' sleep I could make it until dark on Saturday night, likely around 8pm. Wrong. After that soup hit bottom, the snoring dog beckoned me with her wheezes of blissful warmth to lay down, and my cramping quads and full belly were in full agreement. I didn't even wash the pot, I hit the wall. I crashed hard, just as the cloudy dusk and wind arrived.

I woke many times throughout the night, as I usually do when sleeping in the wilderness. Moon monitoring, star gazing, situating the sleeping bag, pee breaks, and so on. But Coco woke me often. When the slippery down sleeping bag slid off her back or leg or whatever, she'd burrow into me, usually pushing me off the sleeping pad and out of the grooves in the tent floor in which I'd found a modicum of comfort. Lots of shoving and situating followed such rude gestures.



The wind really picked up as the night wore on, and I heard very powerful gusts in our vicinity. But because we were in a protected area, it was the odd sensation of hearing and knowing a very strong wind, but never feeling it. When the snow started to fall at night, it was coming angled by the wind. The howling whoosh within earshot of the ridge was memorable.



When I woke for good in the morning, it was fully light but gray and snowing steadily. A few inches had fallen around the tent, but looking out from our camp to the open slope, I could see lots of snow blowing over the ridge persistently. The new accumulation was doubled-down (or more) by the wind-transport effect. Gravy.

Since I would have more snow than I could likely handle in a day, with no competition for it, and a groggy Coco nuzzled deep under the bag, I took my time getting going in the morning. Even with my leisurely pace, I still ended up taking about an hour longer to get out than I preferred. I had erred with the coffee, and it was time-intensive to repair. While the first pot of snow-water came to a boil, I readied my mug with the instant coffee. Whilst packing up on Friday night, I had combined two separate stashes of instant coffee that I discovered in the bin of camping gear. One stash looked normal (or at least as far as instant coffee goes), while the other stash had formed into a clod, and turned nearly black. I fished out the old black clod from the combined stashes and dropped into my empty mug, awaiting the hot water. I had at least 10 minutes to rethink this error, and it never occurred to me until I was in the process of filling the mug. Oh, damn, that's gonna be strong. I dumped in a bit of powdered creamer (hazelnut!) and sampled. Acid! Black paint-thinner! Hell in a mug! Pucker face! Rather than fill the mug with water and add instant coffee to flavor, I'd committed a full mug of boiled water (and the camping gas required to heat it) to a dark potation of death. I had no choice but to boil more water and dilute the tar until it became bearable, and even then I had 2.5 full mugs of barely drinkable horse-nostril strength sludge. Only dumping in every last bit of hazelnut creamer made me able to endure it, but the yummy factor of the hazelnut had been canceled out.

Coco did not want to leave the tent when it was time. She was warm and resting, so I thought I'd just leave the tent up, with the sleeping bag and pad in there, and let her be. I went to lap the adjacent slope, with plans to check on her frequently. I set off, but as soon as I got out of her earshot, she roused and popped out of the tent and hurried to catch up. She was wiser this time, minimizing her forays away from the snowshoe track behind me. But she was squirrelly and active, and again enjoying the snow. And there was lots of it to enjoy. I think there were 6-7 inches on the aspect I skied , perhaps upto 9 inches or so in some wind pillow spots. I would have liked to have a comrade in tow, as I suspected the steeper pitches nearby would be fun. But we stuck to terrain with very low avy risk, and made about 10 laps or so of about 600-700 meters each. Again, nothing mind-blowing about the vert, but really fun cold blower powder.

The snow never stopped. Working backwards in estimation, I called it a day around 1:30pm, and returned to pack up a very snow-covered tent. Snowboarding back down to the trailhead with a very heavy pack was a trick, particularly because of the required frequent stops to allow Coco to catch up. She was straggling a bit, but still hustling. Down near the trailhead, at about 3750 feet, the depth of the new snow was no more than 3-4 inches, and it was heavy. Coco could no longer plow the pow; she was trundling in mashed potatoes with heaving breath. She was spent.

We were at the truck by 3pm, and in Gold Bar for a burger at the Prospector's Inn around 4pm. I was peeved that they were out of chili, because the chili cheeseburger there is a great gut-bomb after a strenuous day in the snow.

Crystal Mountain backcountry

Near Crystal Mountain ski resort, on Saturday January 19th, Steve and I hiked up to the PCT ridge for a backcountry recon mission. With the wind blasting while we walked the ridgeline, scoped some awesome bowls and approaches. Snow was crummy and wind-pounded, south-facing aspects had crust.

Monogram Lake, North Cascades, WA

Some pictures on ZoomIn of our recent backpacking trip to Monogram Lake in North Cascades National Park. The hike starts with about 6200 feet of straight-up switchbacks, making me almost regret lugging a bottle of wine. But we got a nice pay-off with the views...

backpacking in Banff and Yoho in the Canadian Rockies

My buddy Mike and I were deep in the wilderness when the World Trade towers fell. We were on the hike of a lifetime, stringing together some amazing backcountry terrain over 10-day period in Banff and Yoho National Parks in Canada.

Here are some of the photos. If you want some details about the park or the trails therein, feel free to email me or comment on the blog.



Banff Sept02

Rip-off on the Rogue River

Rogue Wilderness Adventures, an outfitter for rafting and fishing trips on the Rogue River, just ripped me off.

They sold me a trip with some friends to fish for Spring Chinook when they and their guides knew darn well that nothing was biting. They saw the reports, knew the catch would be non-existent, but did not warn us of the conditions. Just took a few bucks off a couple of outsiders.

I am an entrepreneur, and I do not advise anyone run their business like this. He could have warned us, converted us to a raft trip without issue, and still kept our money. But taking our money the dishonest way was just to easy.

So if you're looking to book a trip on the Rogue River in southern Oregon, avoid Rogue Wilderness Adventures.

Backcountry snowboarding in Utah's Little Cottonwood Canyon

Over 2 weekends in April, my buddy Mike and I did several days of bootpacking and riding some fantastic spring snow in Little Cottonwood Canyon. The Wasatch mountains are quite steep, and avalanche concern is always very high. We were prepared with beacon/probe/shovel, and the snowpack assessment was green-light, so we pounded away.



Essentially, the area we rode was just west of Snowbird, on the north-facing side of the canyon. Once, we hiked out of the canyon into the White Pine area, riding off the west face of Red Top mountain.

A few comments:

- Because it's so steep, with cycles of old fluffy snow exposed to bright sunny days, it's not often that the snowpack conditions and the threat of avalanche allows for such amazing continuous backcoutry riding. Our good fortune was not overlooked.

- The snow kept coming. Not tons of it, mind you, but small accumulations and enough wind at night to blow the surface smooth again. This allows us to lay down fresh tracks on the same pitch day after day.

- Late in a less-than stellar snow season in Utah, many folks already stored away their snow gear. We had very little company. Almost all of the lines were ours.

- Filming was tough. We both had video cameras (mine is a low-res Canon PowerShot, Mike has a sweet Sony HD camera). However, because the pitches are so steep and long, it really ruins your flow if you have to stop halfway down to position yourself for a decent camera angle of the other guy's line. So our film was sub-optimal, when we decided to film at all. We were powder hungry and did not do a great job of capturing our plunder on camera.

- Arbor boards are made for this kind of riding: smooth surface, steep chutes, low angle turns (if you turn at all), and firmly planted in the backseat. Man I love my Abacus.

- We finished this binge on a 6-inch powder day. With the season mostly over (unless I can convince my buddy Travis to climb some Pacific NW mountains with me on some sunny weekend), this was a phenomenal way to go out. Plus, my buddy Mike is having his first kid within a month, so he had perma-grin about this send-off as well.

The Arbor Abacus is a bad-ass board.

The Arbor Abacus snowboard is good-looking and even better riding - IF it fits your riding style. I just got it last week and I am quite pumped about it. If you like to get in the backseat and crank through crud and mixed snow, this bad boy is for you. It's solid through the mid-section to pound through whatever your quads can handle, and flexible enough at the tail to prevent chattering and bouncing. I dig it.

Protecting your provisions from foraging bears

I really want one of these bad boys from BearVault.com: bear resistant food canister

I have an older, smaller, heavier, non-waterproof product made by Backpackers' Cache that requires a tool to seal and unseal it.

To solve your bear issues, peruse these bear canisters.

World Travel Sites

I am currently travelling around the world with my wife, and the story of our adventures can be found at our seperate blog at www.schmidtworldtour.com. It's been fun to document the trip in a blog that I share with my wife. We're each composing our own posts, and the differing reactions to what we're seeing and doing is really interesting, and at times, entertaining.

In the process of performing some mid-trip research on Switzerland trails, I came across this Haute Route site by Dawn DuPriest. She's also an experienced backcountry mountaineer, and she also has a long list of treks that she summarizes for web surfers.

Other recommended sites include the following:
Wandering Goat - a guy travels around the world and captures some of his experiences in this interesting blog
RucksackPage - a blog by a couple who travelled around the world together. Very helpful and interesting, particularly for their Asian destinations
Schmidt World Tour - my world tour blog with my wife
Backcountry.com - great gear store, but pricey

What to bring on a 3-season hiking or backpacking trip - a checklist of gear and supplies


I’m trying to make this list really easy to use. I’ll list the gear that you need for an overnight hiking trip (no car camping list here), and then expand the list as the number of days in the wilderness grows. I really hope you find the list useful, as it’s been honed with the help of many trips of my own. You have an addition(s) to the gear list? Please email me at clintmvp10 at yahoo dot com. Thanks!
One night (in order of priority):
· Tent that does not leak – if you’re wet, you’re in danger. Even in summer months. If you’re facing the possibility of precipitation, bring a footprint or tarp to put your tent (if tarp, be sure to tuck the edges under the tent profile, otherwise the rain runs down the sides of the tent and pools on top of the tarp – an uncomfortable waterbed caused by counter-productive use of the tarp.

· Nalgene or other indestructible water bottle – your squeeze bottle from the gym will not work

· Water filter – I do not trust any untreated water in the wilderness. I hate to boil because it’s time-consuming and I think boiled water tastes bad, both factors which encourages you to cut corners or not drink (and neither is good)

· Map and compass – of course… you may need these to stay alive

· Suitable clothing
-- First rule: if the conditions became bad, would I stay warm and dry? For almost every trip, I bring a cheap water-proof rain shell, which at the very least will keep me dry, and with a few layers underneath, does a decent job of keeping me warm, too.
-- Second rule: cotton shirts, socks, and pants will make you miserable if you get wet. I used to be a naysayer about this rule, but the first time your t-shirt or tube socks or blue jeans get wet on the trip, you’ll find it nearly impossible to get them dry again or to get yourself warm while wearing them.
-- Unless it’s really hot weather, I usually bring some light gloves and a warm knit hat. I’ve found that the warmth from the hat and gloves can make up some clothing, um, underestimations that would otherwise leave me cold.

· Food – I usually leave the camp stove and fuel at home if I’m only out for one night, unless I bring my wife. Inexperienced always yearn for food in the wilderness – don’t underestimate this factor if you have a newbie partner or a complainer. Food ideas for a cold camp: pack yourself a sandwich or 3, beef jerky, trail mix, clif bars, salty snacks like pretzels or chex mix, candy or sweets of some kind, chunk of cheese (if it’s not blazing hot), cold pizza

· Sleeping Bag – I put this lower on the list because if you have clothing that can handle the worst weather conditions, and waterproof tent, you could manage without a tent. But don’t try it, even in warmer weather. The risk is not worth the weight you’re saving in your pack. I use a decent 3-season bag from Mountain Hardware that is rated for 0 degrees F, and if I get too hot, I sleep on top of it or open it up.

· Sleeping pad – here’s where I get snobby… those inflatable ones are more trouble than they are worth. You’re always worried about getting them dirty or puncturing them. I use a medium-sized foam pad that doubles as a sitting mat, and I never have to worry about it. It’s indestructible.

· Mini-mag flashlight or head lamp (with extra battery) – head lamps are more convenient. If you need to use your hands in the dark, holding a flashlight doesn’t help. Plus the headlamp seems to work better as an illuminator inside the tent. Leave the bulky light saber-sized thing at home.

· Small med kit – Among other things, I always include moleskin, potent bug repellant, band-aid, and an ace wrap (Ever sprained an ankle in the backcountry? I think it’s worth the weight.)

· Sun protection – I’m light-skinned, so I always bring sunscreen, and handkerchief, and a hat

· Leatherman tool or pocket knife – just in case you end up in survival mode

· Lighter and matches

· Toiletries – toothpaste and toothbrush, and a mini roll of toilet paper in a zip-lock bag. See my other page about how to take a dump in the woods comfortably, efficiently, and minimize environmental impact

· Vices – getting high in the wilderness after a long day on the trail is a good time. And I don’t care who knows it.

2-3 nights:
· Stove – I’m not getting into the argument about the best type. I use a stove that screws on top of the green propane canisters for 3 reasons: it boils wicked fast, the canisters are widely available in almost any gas station, hardware store or gear shop, and there are no fidgety little parts to complicate the setup or could break. Downside: it’s heavy than the alternatives. I’ll admit that I am actively looking for a good alternative but my propane thing is a proven performer.

· Pots – I like the lightweight stuff they sell in gear stores. I do not use granddaddy’s old hunting stuff. It’s a pain to clean and heavy (Heavy?! What about your stove? Well, my hypocrisy knows no bounds.)

· Food upgrades – I swear by these suggestions:
1. I insist on bringing some kind of coffee or cafe drink mix. It’s a big help when it’s cold in the morning, and you need an incentive to get out of your bag, get going, and break camp. Each time I leave this at home, I swear to myself and anyone with me that I’ll never do it again.
2. Bring one freeze-dried meal that supposedly “serves 2” for each person on the trip. Cook them 2 packets at a time, coupling your cuisines into one big pot that supposedly feeds 4, but actually feeds 2 hungry hikers. Then, bring one ramen packet for each pair of freeze dried meals, and try to match the ramen flavor to the meal. Fro example, get a beef ramen if you’ve got two freeze-dried meals of beef stew. This tactics adds some salt (water retention) and much needed flavor to the mix. Those freeze dried things can be bland and seem a little sparse, but follow this tip and after 10+ miles of hiking, it’ll taste like a 5-star gourmet feast.
3. Your morning will be much better with a warm breakfast – like those flavored oatmeal packets. I have a soft spot for the fruity flavored ones. Yum.

· Extra wool socks – your feet will thank you

· Bear prevention gear – this is some non-standard bear advice, and it varies between two scenarios: camping in a heavy bear area, or camping in a “somewhat” beary area. First, my list of my “Bears versus My Food” tactics in areas that are not proven to be very heavy with bear activity:
1. Only out for one night? Unless a great bear hang branch is available near my camp, I just place my food in a visible spot about 50-75 meters from my tent. Reasons for this: if a bear hits my food, I want to be close enough to either witness it or perhaps prevent it by hollering or throwing rocks. I told you this is unconventional advice, but in non-beary areas, bears typically do not want your food bad enough to attack you for it, or even hang around to scope out your food if they know that you are there to give them some friction. Worst case scenario with this advice? Let ‘em eat it. Your only one day hike from the trailhead.
2. If I’m hiking for more than one night that probably means that I will be too far from civilization to go without food if a bear gets my grub. Thus, on a multi-night trip, I am much more willing to bring a bear barrel or find a suitable bear hang tree limb and use 50-75 feet of rope, but with strong preference for a limb that I can see or hear from the tent.
The other scenario, in a very beary area, my advice is this: always bring a bear barrel. I’ve had my food nailed too many times in the Sierra to even think about hiking without it.

3+ nights:
· Food upgrades – do not forget the café mix and the sweets. Your body really craves that blood sugar on the longer trips.

· Mini-notebook and pen – for documenting your travails, and in the worst case scenario, something to do on a rainy day when you are stuck in the tent.

· Camera – I bring it on even the shortest of trips. I love my Canon Powershot

· Binoculars – you may not use them, but once in a while, you’ll have a chance to see coyotes or moose or bear all the way across the valley, and you’ll wish you had them. I have a small travel pair that I bring if I have room and can spare the weight.

· Little travel chess board – Nerd Alert! Only when I travel with a buddy. Fun at night in the tent under the light of your headlamp. On a cloudy night without star-gazing, I need something to do before I’m ready to sleep.


Home page: http://www.outdoorexcursion.com/
Cool Blogs: http://www.milanyoung.com/ – http://www.chookah.com

How to Take a Dump in the Woods

photo: this is the wrong technique


1) Find a huge rock or tree without sticky sap on it that can support your weight. Stay at least 100 feet or more from water sources.
2) Dig a hole about a foot deep near the base of the tree or boulder.
3) Find a stick bigger than a pencil and place it near your dump zone. This will come in handy if you have accuracy problems.
4) Drop your drawers.
5) Place your roll of TP in the crotch of your now open pants, between your undies and pants.
6) Face the tree, grab it, and use it to balance and support your weight while you squat. If you are coordinated and have the right spot, you can also lean back against the tree to help maintain a confident seated position.
7) Grunt. Think about baseball.
8) Wiping: don’t try to wipe while squatting or holding the tree. This can have disastrous results. Step aside, arch thy back and reach around to wipe. Try to minimize TP with careful pre- and post-wipe folding.
9) Tuck the soiled TP into the dump hole, being careful to keep those fingers out of the bung.
10) If you had an accuracy problem, use the stick to corral the turds into the hole, on top of the TP.
11) Cover the turds in the hole with your dirt.
12) Place a rock or log over your well-covered danger zone. It goes without saying that if another hiker wants to roll over a rock or log in an attempt to find themselves a suitable backcountry dump spot, they can’t get incredulous about what they find. It was, after all, under a rock.

Enjoy!


Home page: www.outdoorexcursion.com
Cool Blogs: www.milanyoung.com - Schmidt World Tour

Backpacking in Alpine Lakes Wilderness Area, WA

The wife and I took an overnight hike in the Alpine Lakes Wilderness Area earlier this fall. Great trip, and one I'd highly recommend for even a rookie hiker with little experience. From Cle Elum, WA, the trailhead is only about a 30 minute drive.

We hiked about 3 hours up the switchbacks, then past several small pools to the base of Cathredral Rock. The trail splits: go left an downhill to Deep Lake, and go right to scramble across the side of Cathredral Rock toward Peggy's Pond. There are several lovely campsites at the edge and around the pond. Dropped our gear around 3:30pm at a campsite, then used the last few hours of daylight to scramble up the shoulder of Mt. Daniel and indulge in some daydreaming and think of superlative to describe the moment. Suffice it to say, it was lovely. At night, it got very cold for us, but no precipitation, so it's hard to complain.

Solo climb of The Brothers, Olympic National Park

I climbed The Brothers in Olympic National Park in June 2005. The elevation at the summit is 6,866 feet. The trip only took two days. The first day was spent driving to the trailhead, hiking up to base camp, and scurrying up a few little angle routes, half-heartedly meandering around to find the best route that I would attempt the next day if/when the weather cleared up enough for a push to the summit. Found a suitable and tree-covered bivy camp - there's a nice spot under a huge spruce about 15 feet before you get out from under tree cover for the last time and trail takes you up a rocky scree route to the summit. I found it by chance. I kept cruising along the scree, recognized that the weather was not going to cooperate, and back-tracked a little to the tree cover. Bingo! I had walked right past it. It's literally right next to the trail. That night, I cussed a lot about my decision to leave warmer leg-wear at home, and ate a cold can of Hormel tamales (terrible), beef jerky, and stale trail mix leftover from my last trip. Slept in a warm bibler bivy that kept me warm and dry.

The second day I awoke at 5am, 6am, and 6:30am, each time checking to see if I'd get a break in the weather that would allow me to summit. The good news: it did, and I scurried up and back before 10am. Great view while the clouds broke for 10 minutes at the summit. Bad news: you'll have to trust me since my batteries in my camera at the top. Total bummer. Spent too much time moneying with my camera in the bivy the night before because I was bored. Doh!

Gear: crap-ons recommended for the the last 500 meters (or ice axe at the very least). I had neither and wished I did. Instead, I hyper-focused my concentration on each step to reduce the risk of a slip-slide-crash accident. If there was not a boot pack there from previous hikers, I would have had no choice but to stay on the rocks - a much slower ascent. Bring cramp-ons and you'll cruise right up.

Summary: easy hike for a seasoned backpacker, not recommendation for a newbie due to the semi-technical nature of the route at the very top. Great quickie weekend excursion for anyone in the Seattle/Tacoma area, but not worth the extra mileage if you're planning a multi-day trek through Olympic NP. Other connecting routes in the park offer more summits and time above the tree line for your effort.

This photo is nice trailside stream under the evergreen canopy of the Olympics, taken before my camera battery died.

Silverton Mountain, CO - Day 2

We get to the resort shortly after 8am, and sign our waivers, strap on the beacons, and get a safety talk from our guide, Bill. I think he senses our excitement and tries to imply that today is not well-suited for hard charging. This falls on deaf ears; we are raring to go.

The "resort" is awesome, with lots of high-altitude, hikable terrain, and some truly awesome views of the surrounding peaks. We do a few short hikes for some very long runs -- but the snow is not the deep, dry, epic stuff that we were expecting. Still a very good time, though.

Throughout the morning, we learn how Bill would like us to ski the terrain: he wants to reduce avalanche risk, but he's also "managing" the mountain, i.e. he doesn't want us to hog all of the fresh snow on an entire aspect. We tighten up our lines, following his lines, and crossing each other's lines and some lines from other groups from hours and days earlier.

Pete gets hurt on the first morning with a bad back which is a bummer, because the dude can rip and was just starting to show it. Jay skipped a run or two in the afternoon to preserve some strength (he wouldn't want to blow his load on the first day). Burg knifed a pretty sweet line, showing his cat-like agility and nimble-ness (if that's even a word).

We conclude the first day with this thought in mind: Bill didn't deliver the goods. We saw some of the terrain that we could have riden, but he wouldn't take us there. We tipped him nicely nonetheless; partly because he was patient with us, partly because we wanted to grease the skids for the next two days.

Snowboarding at Silverton Mountain, CO - Day 1

Delayed in Denver, arrived late in Durango. We congregate at our hotel in the town of Silverton, and the group is clearly stoked to be together for the coming adventure. We're anticipating 3 days of kick-ass good times on the much-ballyhooed steeps of Silverton, but we're a bit wary because they've received no recent snow. Fred has already packed his gear and check it thrice before he goes to bed, and Jay swears he's in shape for this.