No longer updated

So we are off to Colombia, which means that we won't be updating this blog anymore. See our other blog to find out what we are doing in Colombia. -S&H

Colonial Peak

Last weekend George and I spent three days in the mountains near Colonial Peak. Click here to read and see pictures of our trip.

Captain George revisited

New pictures of our day trip in the San Juans are available here. Just use the "tag" feature to search our photos using terms like "George" or "Sucia."

Captain George and the San Juans

Today we took a tour of the San Juans in George's boat. The boat (a Stabi-craft - thanks George) is ideal for trips to the islands because it has an aluminum hull. This means that you can ground the boat on the shore and step right onto dry land, instead of anchoring it off shore and ferrying across in a dinghy.

Our trip took us around the east and south sides of Lummi Island, to Obstruction Pass State Park for a quick stop, then counter-clockwise around Orcas to our lunch stop on Sucia Island. All of Sucia is a state park, but it is only accessible by boat (with no ferry service). The island is surrounded by out-of-the-way coves and covered with trails. We dilly-dallied there for a couple of hours before heading to Clark Island for a few minutes, and then home.

Click on the thumbnails to be routed to larger images.

Squamish

Last weekend new friend Ben and I met recent friends Dave and Wendy and old friends Steve and Az in Squamish to go rock climbing. Recent and old friends are much better climbers than new friend and I, but that gave me the opportunity to shoot film. Good for my tendons, good for your eyes!
-Sean

Mt. Herman

November 13-14 (Sat-Sun), 2004

I had pretty much hung up my hiking boots for the season, not expecting to get out again for awhile. Lo and behold, George calls up on Wednesday and says that he has been snowshoeing over the past few weekends on daytrips, but wants to spend the night out. Yipee!

I was stuck in town on Saturday until noon ( a puppy we were fostering was getting adopted), so George picked me up around 12:30. We reached the end of Mt. Baker Hwy, the upper parking area for the ski area, and were on the trail at 2:00. The sun goes down around 4:30, so we figured we would see where we were at 4:00 and pick out a campsite at that time.

We had packed snowshoes, ice axes, and 1 shovel, as George’s recent trips had revealed roughly 3 feet of snow at the trailhead. Unfortunately, it had rained pretty steadily over the past week, and a lot of the snow had melted. We never used the snowshoes – there were short sections where they would have been helpful, but we were never on snow for a long enough period to use them. We would have had to frequently take them off so that we could walk on rocks or navigate through tight underbrush. I guess later in the winter, once more snow has fallen, the underbrush and rocks are covered up. So, the snowshoes stayed on our packs for the entire trip.

Mt Herman is situated across Bagley Lake from Table Mountain. If you take the Chain Lakes loop hike, starting near Bagley Lake and walking the loop counter-clockwise, the first pass you cross is the saddle between Table Mtn and Mt Herman, with Herman on your right. The route we followed was this (roughly): start at the upper ski area parking lot; drop down and cross the drainage of Bagley lakes; continue left along the Chain Lakes trail towards Bagley lake; turn right and steeply up (off trail) and follow a rigdeline up Herman, roughly even with the fancy stone bridge below the visitor’s center; set up camp. Next day: follow coulior (gully) and drainage down Herman, dumping us out on the Chain Lakes trail 1/4 mile before the place we left the trail yesterday.

This was my first experience walking off trail with moderate snow levels. This, I think, is actually more difficult than if there was more snow. With deep snow, you can usually kick in good steps and just march right up. However, the snow was not deep enough for kick steps in most places. Instead we had to gingerly place our feet on the snow and do our best to avoid sliding. While in deeper snow it is easiest to place your foot in the leader’s footsteps, with these conditions I would often slip out of George’s steps, because his foot compressed the snow into an icy slush. So I followed near, but not exactly in, his footsteps.

Another new trick I learned was the importance of using underbrush and small trees as handholds. Any living thing sticking out of the ground became a fixed line, supporting my weight as I tried new footholds.

As a side note, I started rock climbing this past summer in an effort to increase my comfort level when hiking and scrambling in the mountains. This was the first trip where these skills paid off. I realized I trusted my boots on smaller edges, I was more aware of my center of gravity, and was able to balance on small holds in relative comfort. One particularly intimidating segment we encountered was a 20 ft section of mossy, slabby rock, bordered on one side by a small creek/drainage. With my right foot in the drainage and my left on small edges in the rock, shifting my weight to my upper foot with each step, I found that I progressed quickly, safely, and comfortably.

This narrative makes it sound as if we slowly and gingerly inched up the mountain, which is not entirely true. I suppose the places that stick in my memory were the most technical, and therefore required the techniques described above. In reality, we move pretty quickly (1400 off-trail feet in elevation in about 2 hours).

We reached the false summit at the top of ridge (and right next to the coulior we would descend the next day) by about 4:00. Using George’s shovel, we leveled an area for his Megamid tent (floorless, one-pole, circus tent lookalike). The views at this point were marvelous: the silhouette of Baker was outstanding and Shuksan glowed with the sunset. However, there were dark clouds approaching from the coast, and we were soon engulfed in them. We oriented the tent so that we could eat dinner with a view of Baker out our front porch. This turned out to not be a great idea for two reasons. First, by the time we settled in, all views were gone due to lack of light. Secondly, and increasingly more important as the night went on, the wind was blowing at us from that direction.

Dinner was Thai noodles with peanut sauce, rice and tuna, assorted chocolate and nuts, hot chocolate, and freeze dried apple something (cobbler?) for dessert. George tends to bring out mystery desserts on these trips, his excuse being that we need something with lots of calories to warm us for bed. Sometimes I think he should come up with a better excuse or a better dessert. I am reminded at this point of a certain cheesecake consumed on the slopes of Ruth Mountain (another story entirely).

I was borrowing George’s super warm sleeping bag, and though the temperatures probably approached freezing over night, I woke up sweating at least once. The wind picked up over night, and by morning miniscule snowdrifts had formed at our feet. We ate a quick (read “cold”) breakfast and packed up in blowing snow, with maybe 50-100 feet visibility. I believe we left camp at around 8:00.

Our descent was just out the back door, and we quickly switched from hiking poles to ice axes due to the steepness of the slope. At one point the slope became so steep that we turned around and faced the slope to descend. George led, kicking steps into the snow that would support about 1/3 of the foot, and I followed. With each step, the ice axe shaft was plunged into the snow up to its head. With a leash attaching the axe to our packs’ waistbelts, we were completely safe. When the snow became to shallow to drive the shaft of the axe in, we would switch to placing the pick into the snow while supporting our weight on the head of the axe, with the shaft resting on the snow below. This was probably the most enjoyable part of the trip, and gave me insight into how to ascend and descend extremely steep terrain. I never felt the need to have a rope (we weren’t carrying one anyway), and without a rope we were able to move much faster.

After maybe 45 minutes we were at the base of the coulior and avalanche field and entered small trees. This is where the route finding began. We knew that we would eventually meet the trail if we kept going down, as the trail traverses across the slope. However, there were presumably hidden cliff bands that were not visible through the trees. We would end up picking a reasonable looking route, descending as far as possible and then pick our way through cliff bands. We only met one formidable cliff band, but were able to scramble down and reach flat ground. We soon reached the trail. The walk back to the car lasted all of 20-30 minutes, and we completed our journey at about 10:30.

In all, this was an excellent trip (I am waiting for that horrible trip in the mountains, but I think I’ll have to search hard for it). It was great to spend a night out in November, which I assumed was too late in the year. I was especially pleased to capitalize on the skills I have learned from rock climbing by traveling over sketchy terrain, in the mountains, with an overnight pack’s worth of weight on my back. And to top it all off, we were gone from Bellingham for less than 24 hours, leaving plenty of time for a lazy afternoon nap on the couch.
-Sean

Lake Ann

September 23-24 (Thu-Fri), 2004

I had been planning to do a longer (5+ days) trip once Heather started school, and hoped to do this with Steve M. However, he could not get away due to work commitments (though we still plan to go in a few weeks). But I had gotten myself psyched to go and therefore still wanted to get out. Because of the lack of sub jobs this early in the school year, I decided to go by myself. I chose Lake Ann because I had been there before and therefore knew the trail and water sources. Also, I was sure there would be no snow due to recent warm weather (and George F. and I had hiked Ptarmigan Ridge two weeks ago). The weather was looking favorable, so I asked Heather about it the night before. I had actually convinced myself that she would veto the trip, but she said “Sure, go ahead” and so it was set.

I planned to start late to let the remaining nasty looking clouds clear, and to allow some time for packing. Heather drove me to Colleen’s on her way to work, and I borrowed Colleen’s car. I stopped at Fred Meyer on the way home to pick up a small Tupperware bowl w/lid, a bathroom scale (I was curious what my pack would weigh), and a movie (Pleasantville) for H to watch while I was gone. At home, I packed everything but the food, substituting a large Nalgene filled with 1.5 lbs water for the food’s weight. The pack, with about 2 liters of drinking water and 1.5 pounds of simulated food, weighed approx 24 lbs.

I said goodbye to Henley and drove to Deals Only to pick up some snacks, then to REI for a 16oz Nalgene and USGS 7.5” topo. I wanted the smaller Nalgene so that I could rely on my Camelback bladder for water, but then fill it up with the Nalgene – I have found that the Camelback won’t fill unless water is falling into it, a situation that isn’t always available. I didn’t actually carry any water in the Nalgene while on the trail, but it did serve double duty as a mug for hot drinks at camp. The USGS map was awesome – it was the first time I have used a map with this much detail. The final stop before heading east was Haggen, where I picked up ravioli and bread for dinner.

After a quick stop at the Glacier Ranger Station to see if I needed a backcountry permit (no), I had a much longer stop for the construction they are doing on the highway. I organized food and read the map while sitting for the 40 or so minutes waiting for the pilot car. Finally arriving at the trailhead at about 1:20, I was greeted by low hanging blowing fog. Baker was hidden for the entire day, though glimpses of Shuksan and other smaller peaks occasionally came into view. There were three hikers who had just arrived back at their car. Judging from their muddy boots, I decided to wear my boots and not my running shoes as I had earlier planned. I hefted my pack and started down the trail at 1:45.

The trail to Lake Ann is either 4 or 4.3 miles, depending on which map you cite. It is about 2 miles from the car down to Swift Creek, and then another two miles up boulder fields and meadows to a saddle between Shuksan Arm and an unnamed peak, on the other side of which is Lake Ann. There were 3 cars in the parking lot, and I passed two couples while approaching Swift Creek. Along the way I was constantly in the company of what I came to realize (but not until the next day) were chipmunks, though they were difficult to spot. Before recognizing them, however, I dubbed them the small furry animals who say “NEE!” – perhaps a distant relative of the Monty Python cast. On the other hand, they may have just been very selfish.

The trail was well used and quite muddy due to the recent rains. I quickly put on my short blue gaiters and congratulated myself for choosing boots and not running shoes. Runners would have been quickly soaked in the soupy mud that was unavoidable along the trail. I guess lightweight does have its shortcomings, and I was happy I made the right choice.

I met the third party just after entering the boulder fields after crossing Swift Creek. They were an elderly couple out for a day hike, both with 2 hiking poles and looking very shaky and delicate. The gentlemen, with whistle, compass, and other small objects hung from his neck, stopped to talk. He said that he had timed it and that it would take 50 minutes for me to reach the lake. I had been on the trail for 1 hour and 10 minutes, and thought I was making a great pace, and so dismissed his prediction.

I continued up and soon stopped to sit on a rock and enjoy the passing views of the terrain through the moving fog. After a few more bites to eat, I quickly walked up the remaining steps to the saddle. Looking at my watch, I realized that it was 4:45 and that the older gentlemen and been dead-on.

The view of Shuksan was breathtaking (as always), and, after a few minutes of taking it all in, I started to look for a campsite. I was disappointed to find that almost all of the established campsites were right along the trail that goes around the lake. While I was the only one there, I didn’t look forward to tomorrow’s early day hikers tramping through my camp the next morning while I was exploring. Finally I spotted a promising location near the outlet of the lake. There were large, mostly flat and level rock slabs sandwiched between the main trail and the lake. The views were awesome as they allowed you to see over the trees and brush. The rock was an excellent surface for cooking and sleeping on. As I set up camp, I knew that I would be earning extra bonus points had George been with me.

It took a little creativity to tie the tent down with large rocks in place of stakes, and to rig a taller rock to serve as the tent pole at the foot of the tent, but it finally worked out. As I finished and surveyed my creation, I realized that another couple had joined me at the lake. They were in the process of setting camp at one the spots that I had passed up, under the constant encouragement of a large but very well behaved dog.

It was about 5:15, and though I was getting hungry, I was tempted to check out the trail leading to the climbers’ route up Fishers’ Chimneys and the Lower Curtis Glacier viewpoint. I hung my food on a nearby tree and set off. As I walked down the trail, I could see the steep switchbacks ahead of me, cut into the hill below the Chimneys. Once I reached the base of these switchbacks, the warm air that had settled in the valleys during the days was rushing up the hillside, pushing the fog ahead. This caused my views to be disturbed due the occasional total whiteout. After walking up the disintegrating trail to the third switchback, I decided that the views would not get better and that I was hungry, so I turned around. Of course, by the time I got back to camp a bit after 6:30, most of the fog had cleared and visibility was great. Oh well.

I found a nice lounge seat carved into the rock and set up the kitchen. Dinner was half a package of chicken and prosciutto ravioli, bread, hot chocolate, and various small side snacks of cookies and cheese. The fog was moving again, causing beads of moisture to accumulate on my down jacket. I decided at this point that I would sleep in the tent and not bivy under the stars, anticipating a mostly cloudy night. I finished up my supper, saving half of the pasta for tomorrow’s lunch, and sat to watch the mountain, finally heading to the tent sometime around 8:00.

I found that I had the desire to write down my thoughts of the day (which would probably have been more accurate than these words, which are being written 5 days later). However, having no pen or paper, I settled into my bag and started reading The Piano Tuner. I brought the book along for this reason, but had expected that reading a novel would ruin my mood of being in nature. Not so. I found that the book was welcome, especially as darkness descended and small bumps in the night became more apparent. It wasn’t long before one of those bumps decided to come into my tent. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a small movement. George had warned me that he had had problems with mice in the area, and so I was kind of expecting this. Because my tent has no floor, the mouse had no problem getting in, but the mesh that hangs from the side of the tent made it difficult for him to escape. I had, in the meantime, retreated as far back into the tent as the ceiling allowed. The mouse climbed up the mesh that forms the door of my tent as I weighed the idea of opening the zipper of the door with the possibility of getting bit. Finally, the mouse darted back down to the ground and slipped out under the mesh. My heart slowed down about 10 minutes later. I decided to tie back the mesh door, as the clouds had now cleared and I didn’t want to turn my tent into a giant mousetrap. This way, at least they could escape once they found their way in.

I have never slept well in the backcountry, and tonight wasn’t any better. If anything, it was worse. I believe it was a combination of being alone, the proven existence of small bumps in the night, the fact that I was challenging the lower temperature limit of my sleeping bag, and the realization that I had forgotten my long underwear bottoms. Though I was warm for most of the night, I did keep waking up – once by what I think was another mouse, though I did not find it with my lamp. Around 5 AM I finally added my down jacket to my existing layers of long sleeve wool shirt and fleece vest. One benefit of sleeping alone, I found, was that it was very easy to pee when one has no fears of waking up a sleeping tent mate. I think I got up at least 3-4 times over the course of the night.

I finally gave up on sleep and got up at 6:30. I moved around the trail-less side of the lake in order to not bother the other couple (and their dog) and trekked back across the saddle and into the meadows to witness sunrise warming Mt. Baker. It was my first view of Baker from this area (my previous hike to Lake Ann was also fogged in), and it turned out to be bit farther east than I expected. It was also interesting to see the Ptarmigan Ridge in relation to Baker. Again, Baker was not where I had expected it to be 2 weeks ago when George and I had walked through the clouds and rain around Coleman Pinnacle and up to the Shoals Glacier. Thus enlightened (both intellectually and physically by the morning light), I headed back to camp. This time I took the main trail, hoping to find the trail that leads up the side of the saddle towards Shuksan Arm. This was to be my exploration after breakfast, though I never found the trail

Breakfast was 2 pouches of oatmeal and hot chocolate. I quickly cleaned up, got the camp in order, and headed out. The couple and dog were also packed up, with intentions of heading back to their car. The USGS map showed easyish terrain along the ridge all the way to Shuksan Arm, with a small plateau on the Arm itself. The day before I had spotted what looked like a likely boot-made trail heading up the saddle from the intersection of the main trail and the one branching off towards the lake. There was even a small cairn marking the intersection. However, after about 5 minutes of walking the trail disappeared. I decided to walk off trail towards the ridge. After boulder hopping and trying to avoid stepping on heather and lupine, I finally reached the ridge of the saddle, finding a good trail and about 5 excellent campsites (no water unless snow is on the ground). From here I walked up the ridge toward Shuksan Arm. As I ascended the trail became less distinct, indicating that this area gets less use than that around the 5 campsites. Upon reading the hiking book after returning home, I realized that the suggested “wonder” was to only reach the campsites. Oh well.

I found a small snow patch on the broad plateau at the top of the trail on the Arm. There were a few views of the glacier on the north side of the Arm, as well as of the lower ski area. However, other than fun scrambling, the sidetrip did not have much to offer. I ate a few snacks and headed back. Continuing down the side trail all the way to the main trail, I found that I had crossed the intersection multiple times. As you are heading to the lake on the main trail, the side trail is just after passing a small evergreen tree that “elephants” out into the trail. If you pretend that the lake is a rectangle, the trailhead is just even the northeastern long side of the rectangle. If the trailhead is still not apparent, just head for the obvious “pass” between two clumps of trees on the lower ridge of the saddle. The trail heads just between these tress. Total trip time: 1 hour up, 30 minutes down.

I leisurely packed up once arriving at camp. I knew I had to leave camp by 12:30 in order to get back the Bham by 5:00. I ate my lunch and left camp at 11:30. I met about 15 people on my way back down (and up) the trail. The first, a single man with an accent (German?) said that he saw a bear cub in the meadows near the toilet at Swift Creek. Unfortunately, I didn’t see anything when I passed the area, nor did other trail users that I passed.

Contrary to every other hike I have ever done, I had the most fun on the trip back to the car. This is made even odder by the fact that 2 miles of this was uphill. I’m not sure why this was so, but some ideas that I thought of are (1)knowing that I was going back home to Heather, and (2) being alone and having a lot of time, therefore being able to take my time. Regardless, this was perhaps my most enjoyable time in the mountains. I felt comfortable and at peace, totally content. It was nice.

I arrived back at the car at 1:45, 2 hours and 15 minutes after leaving camp.

Lessons learned:

Short gaiters are excellent for mud

Boots are great for mud – much better than running shoes

Need to have a pole for the foot of the tent to avoid condensation

Food for this trip was just right – I ate everything but the gorp and most of the cheese

Forgot to bring handcleaner and long undies bottoms

USGS 7.5” is great for off trail scrambling, much better than Green Trails

Bring a wide-area map to identify distant peaks/areas

Solo lessons learned:

Bring a book to read at night

Bring a small notepad and pen/pencil

Make sure the sleep system is comfortable – maybe Thermarest instead of foam pad

-Sean