Mount Washington, WA

No not that Mt. Washington. I mean the one off I90 in Washington state!

8am on Sunday November 7th: In the desolate wilderness 40 minutes away from Seattle, I parked in a nearly empty gravel parking lot with only the sound of raindrops hitting the car roof and trucks on I90 punctuating the morning fog.

I put my raincoat on in the car. It was going to be a wet shoulder season hike.

I climbed up the trail, the switchbacks gained enough elevation in the first mile that I was sweating underneath my raincoat. Ugh I hope I don't break my leg and freeze to death in my wet clothes, I thought. That would be really embarrassing.

I'd dressed for snow with winter pants, waterproof boots, and lots of layers that were now stuffed in my pack, but it felt like 45 degrees and was unfortunately raining instead of snowing.

After about a mile and a half there started to be little patches of slushy snow on the sides of the trail, and then on the trail itself. I passed two separate solo hikers heading back down the trail on the part of the trail that had less than an inch of fresh powder. The second one had on trail runners and shorts! I wondered if I should've worn my trail runners, since I hate how my boots often give me blisters. I had considered it the night before when packing. I was also impressed that they were heading down so early in the morning, it was only around 9am, so they must've got an early start to hit the top and be coming back down already.

I continued uphill following the two sets of prints both going up and down of the people that I saw. I guess I'm the only one out here now, I thought to myself, better not get injured. That thought quickly faded as the trail got more snowy and my excitement to see snow for the first time this year lifted my mood. I love being outside in the snow. It still fills me with energy and childish joy.

Around two miles in I stopped to ponder where the trail went, I was in a bushy clearing and the trail seemed to dead end at a stream covered by the bushes. I stared at the bushes for a second before realizing that those were weighted down by the snow over the trail, which was the stream! I understood that this is why those two people were coming down so early in the morning, they hadn't made it all the way up! I laughed out loud and continued towards the bushes with confidence. With one trekking pole I whacked the bushes, which knocked off the snow and lifted them back to vertical on the sides of the trail. I took another small step forward and another whack. Memories of cleaning the snow off the sagging bushes at my childhood home made me smile as I thought: I'm glad I'm wearing my boots. The trail really had turned into a 2 inch deep stream from all the shoulder season precipitation in the Pacific Northwest. I remembered reading a trip report during my research the night before about some people turning around after getting soaked and cold trying to get through trees and bushes weighed down by snow over the trail. I was happy that I wasn't getting wet, since my jacket hood was up over my baseball cap keeping the snow off my face, I was whacking away with my trekking poles, and my waterproof boots were keeping the stream off my feet. The trail continued like that for longer than I thought it would, but I was making decent progress through the snowy bushes. Eventually they cleared and a little uncertain that I had gone the right way, since there were no more tracks to follow, I checked the gps map.

With my track on the gps appearing close enough to the one marking the trail, I continued up what seemed like the trail through the trees, though it was so covered in snow at this point that I couldn't see what I was stepping on.

Sometime later I came to an opening in the trees, and yelled out: "FUCK YES!!". It felt so awesome to be up in a snowy mountain following animal tracks and knowing that noone else is ahead of me.

I stopped at a trail junction about three miles in to eat a homemade apple cider donut (thanks Ari!) and put back on a fleece underneath my rain jacket. Snow was getting past the collar of my pants and into the top of my boots. I wish I brought my gaiters, I thought. I knew that they were folded beside my desk where I had packed the night before, abandonded because I assumed that the elastic cuff on my new snow pants would keep the snow out. It appeared that as I was high-stepping up over rocks the cuff would lift off the low cut ankle of my boots. I guess the cuff is made for higher boots like ski boots. I fiddled with my boots for a while at the junction digging out snow and tryying to get the cuff low enough so that it would stay. Eventually I put my donut bag away, threw on my pack, slipped my mittens back on, grabbed my trekking poles and, headed up the trail towards the summit.

I could see across the valley that the snowline started about halfway up the mountains. It had stopped snowing and the cloulds cleared enough for the snow to hit my back as I traversed up the trail on the eastward slope of the mountain. The powder was quite a few inches deep now, and my feeble attempts to pull my pant cuff over my boots wasn't working. My ankles were getting wet but they were plenty warm, I had an extra pair of socks in my pack, and I figured that I was close enough to the top that I should just keep going.

I came to a fork and checked the map. Left off the broader trail into a narrow one with tight tree cover to head up the northeast ridge of the mountain. I pulled up my hood again so that the snow from the low tree branches wouldn't go down my neck. This new trail got steep and hard to navigate quickly. It might've been easier without snow covering the trail features, but with the narrow trail it was hard to distinguish from natural gaps in the trees. I stopped to catch my breath and drink some water at the bottom of a particularly steep scramble. Time to put on my microspikes! I blanced against a tree on the steep ridge while I slipped on my spikes and then cinched my mittens cuffs back down, knowing that I'd have to use my hands to climb up through the powder.

I had no idea if this was the trail. It sure didn't seem like the trail but it looked like I was on it on the gps, so I continued scrambling up the powder covered rocks. I took my time planting my poles, hands, and feet. Don't want to slip here, looking down at a sloping small cliff, plenty of opportunities to break a leg, I thought. Cursing myself for ending up on such a rough trail solo and with wet feet, I was actually having a ton of fun. Scrambling is scary in a fun way, and I love it.

The scrambley trail ended up meeting up with a more worn in trail higher up the ridge at about the 3.5 mile mark of the hike.

Energy wasn't a problem on this hike, I felt great the whole time. I think that going solo makes hiking a little more scary and requires more attention for route-finding and staying safe. I trotted up through the powder, planting my trekking poles into the snow ahead of me to feel out the trail.

After not much further I crested the final ridge, with open views to the south and west. I yelled in joy again: YES!! Wohoo!!

The wind was blowing from the west so I zipped up my jacket.

I could see bits of Chester Lake below, which apparently provides fresh water for Seattle.

I bashed through drifts of knee deep snow on the way to the very top, and when I got to the summit I looked up at the northward view only to trip on a rock hidden beneath the snow and smash my right knee on the ground. Ow. Idiot. Fuck that actually hurt. I hope I can make it down ok. After feeling my knee for a second I considered it fine and went to eat my second donut while looking at the view.

The town of North Bend and it's famous mountains on the north side of the valle were visible, though I couldn't figure out by sight which one was Mt. Si. I guessed that it's the one of the left of the ridge, but I expected the haystack on top to look bigger.

Annoyingly the highway was audible again.

After finishing my second donut I headed back down. I swore again when I got to the top of the steep scramble trail. Fuck. What was I thinking? As I downclimbed back through my tracks in the slippery powder: Maybe I should try to find an easier way down, I thought. Nah, this is the trail according to the gps and I can just follow my tracks. I saw another person after I had gone down the steepest scrambles. Feeling happy and proud I warned him about the steep scrambles and he thanked me for breaking the trail. Apparently he had biked up as far as he could and was hiking the rest of the way. I hadn't seen any bikeable gravel roads since close to the bottom but I nodded in afirmation wondering how far he got up to and where that trail was. There was a lot of old trails and logging roads up here.

I continued down past the junction where I had eaten my first donut, where it looked like someone had gone up towards Change Peak.

Proud of breaking trail when the people I saw this morning had turned around, I thought of a slogan: It's not cutting edge alpinism but it's a ton of fun in shoulder season. Corny. It did seem like a good choice for early season snow, since there didn't appear to be any avalanche zones to my untrained eyes. With hindsight I would've brought gaiters and maybe gone up the more worn Mt. Washington Trail to the summit instead of the marked shortcut that I took. I'm glad I didn't bring my snowshoes though. For only a few inches of powder I wouldn't have wanted them for most of the hike except for the deep powder drifts in the scrambly part where it was too steep to wear them anyways. I hate snowshoes. So bulky and awkward. They are difficult to lash to a pack and clunky to walk in. They're better for flatter terrain.

I made quick progress downhill, passing a guy who was wearing trail runners who remarked: "I didn't think there would be as much snow". "Me neither, I wish I brought my gaiters", I replied. Maybe he was the one who turned left at the junction up to Change Peak, though I have a feeling he didn't make it all the way to the top.

I passed more groups of people who were heading up in the rainy part of the trail. Most of them were wearing trail runners, and some even had on shorts, t shirts, and tiny trail running packs. Well, I'm the best dressed one on the mountain today, I guess.

The guy in trail runners sped up when we got below the snowline and passed me as I was taking a water break. The competative part of me wanted to get going so I didn't get too far behind but I reminded myself that I was just out for fun and I didn't want to slip on the wet rocks and pebbles. Plus my knee was a little sore from my fall at the summit, so I let him go by. I eventually caught up to him right before the parking lot anyways.

It was still foggy and rainy at the bottom, just as I left it. I felt energized from my epic alpine adventure. What a fun hike!

8.35 miles, 3096 ft of elevation gain, in 4:46 elapsed time. Yay for shoulder season!