Climbing the CascadesStephen Dale and I were working in Seattle and decided to take a few extra days to climb in the Cascade Mountains of Washington state before returning home. The weather was perfect and the mountains offered something new and completely different from our usual climbs in the Black Mountains and Smoky Mountains in the east.
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We spent a pleasant night of rest at an old motel known as the "Packwood Inn" in Packwood, WA, located southeast of Tacoma and in the heart of the Mt. Ranier National Park. On the morning of June 8, 2015, we drove to the trail head and began our 7-mile trek to our goal, an 8,000 foot peak know as "Old Snowy."
We chose this peak for several reasons. At only 8,000 feet elevation, it was well within the realistic realm of what we'd climbed before. It was said to offer breathtaking views of the park including Mt. Adams, Mt. Ranier and Mt. Saint Helens. We also needed a two-day trip to fit into our schedule and this 14-mile route seemed perfect.
The hike was amazingly beautiful from the moment we left the car at the Pacific Crest trail head. My huge Italian military backpack was perfect for the job because it has a small, removable "patrol pack" that allows you to leave your main pack at camp and carry only emergency items. We carried two days' provisions of food, a two-person tent, sleeping bags and cold weather gear. On the outside of my pack I carried a Nikon Coolpix S6200 digital camera, water jug, bandana, bear spray and my Walther P99 tactical knife.
After a six-mile walk and several thousand feet of elevation gain, we found one of the most beautiful camp sites imaginable and decided to stop for the night. We started a small campfire but since we were at the tree line, there was very little wood to burn. It was fun while it lasted and helped warm us up as the sun went down. We broke out my GSI Pinnacle Soloist outdoor cook set, fired up the stove and made a meal from our Alpine Aire freeze dried foods.
The night was cold, probably in the lower 40's, but our sleeping bags held up fairly well. We also came armed with sleeping pads, which put two light layers of material between us and the cold ground. You never really get a good night's sleep on a mountain, so the five or six hours we got was about as much as could be expected.
The following morning we had breakfast, consolidated our main backpacks and gear inside our tent and hoped that no one would steal it, and set out for the summit of Old Snowy with only a few emergency items. We were limited on water and food, so it was necessary to be back down from the summit at midday.
We made the trek across McCall Glacier with no trouble, although I did find it a little unnerving to wonder just what was underneath our feet. Was the glacier just a few inches of ice covering a current of water running downhill? Were we walking on the glacial equivalent of a frozen river, and what would happen if the ice broke through? As it turned out we had no trouble at all, but the thought did occur to me.
Stephen Dale was showing signs of fatigue after a couple of hours. He had not trained as hard as he usually does for a mountain. Just above the 7,000 foot level, he began showing signs of mild Altitude Mountain Sickness and vertigo. He has climbed well over 13,000 feet before, so there was no chance of this being coincidental. He had been working out, but he still wasn't quit in the physical condition necessary for a climb of this magnitude. Fighting a headache and dizziness, we decided that he should go no further than the base of the final summit trail.
I wanted to continue and was physically able to do so, but there is a bit of exposure on the final summit trail and without Stephen Dale, I had no help or backup plan. He was willing to sit and wait for me to tag the summit and return, but I checked out the trail and decided it was unwise to go alone. We came together and we would either succeed for fail together.
I was disappointed at not having made the summit, but not overly so. The first rule of mountain climbing is... when things begin to go wrong, immediately stop and turn around. Do not compound one mistake with another. If something had gone wrong on my summit bid, Stephen Dale was in no condition to come help me. He was unsure of his footing and had no business being on an exposed ridge with a 2,000 foot fall over the left side of the trail. So we accepted defeat and returned to our camp, packed up our tent, and made the six-mile descent back to our car before dusk.
Despite missing the summit, the trip was not disappointing. The views were truly amazing and we were both delighted to have had the chance to hike and climb a bit in the Cascades. That was a treat that Midwesterners don't often enjoy.
We chose this peak for several reasons. At only 8,000 feet elevation, it was well within the realistic realm of what we'd climbed before. It was said to offer breathtaking views of the park including Mt. Adams, Mt. Ranier and Mt. Saint Helens. We also needed a two-day trip to fit into our schedule and this 14-mile route seemed perfect.
The hike was amazingly beautiful from the moment we left the car at the Pacific Crest trail head. My huge Italian military backpack was perfect for the job because it has a small, removable "patrol pack" that allows you to leave your main pack at camp and carry only emergency items. We carried two days' provisions of food, a two-person tent, sleeping bags and cold weather gear. On the outside of my pack I carried a Nikon Coolpix S6200 digital camera, water jug, bandana, bear spray and my Walther P99 tactical knife.
After a six-mile walk and several thousand feet of elevation gain, we found one of the most beautiful camp sites imaginable and decided to stop for the night. We started a small campfire but since we were at the tree line, there was very little wood to burn. It was fun while it lasted and helped warm us up as the sun went down. We broke out my GSI Pinnacle Soloist outdoor cook set, fired up the stove and made a meal from our Alpine Aire freeze dried foods.
The night was cold, probably in the lower 40's, but our sleeping bags held up fairly well. We also came armed with sleeping pads, which put two light layers of material between us and the cold ground. You never really get a good night's sleep on a mountain, so the five or six hours we got was about as much as could be expected.
The following morning we had breakfast, consolidated our main backpacks and gear inside our tent and hoped that no one would steal it, and set out for the summit of Old Snowy with only a few emergency items. We were limited on water and food, so it was necessary to be back down from the summit at midday.
We made the trek across McCall Glacier with no trouble, although I did find it a little unnerving to wonder just what was underneath our feet. Was the glacier just a few inches of ice covering a current of water running downhill? Were we walking on the glacial equivalent of a frozen river, and what would happen if the ice broke through? As it turned out we had no trouble at all, but the thought did occur to me.
Stephen Dale was showing signs of fatigue after a couple of hours. He had not trained as hard as he usually does for a mountain. Just above the 7,000 foot level, he began showing signs of mild Altitude Mountain Sickness and vertigo. He has climbed well over 13,000 feet before, so there was no chance of this being coincidental. He had been working out, but he still wasn't quit in the physical condition necessary for a climb of this magnitude. Fighting a headache and dizziness, we decided that he should go no further than the base of the final summit trail.
I wanted to continue and was physically able to do so, but there is a bit of exposure on the final summit trail and without Stephen Dale, I had no help or backup plan. He was willing to sit and wait for me to tag the summit and return, but I checked out the trail and decided it was unwise to go alone. We came together and we would either succeed for fail together.
I was disappointed at not having made the summit, but not overly so. The first rule of mountain climbing is... when things begin to go wrong, immediately stop and turn around. Do not compound one mistake with another. If something had gone wrong on my summit bid, Stephen Dale was in no condition to come help me. He was unsure of his footing and had no business being on an exposed ridge with a 2,000 foot fall over the left side of the trail. So we accepted defeat and returned to our camp, packed up our tent, and made the six-mile descent back to our car before dusk.
Despite missing the summit, the trip was not disappointing. The views were truly amazing and we were both delighted to have had the chance to hike and climb a bit in the Cascades. That was a treat that Midwesterners don't often enjoy.