After a snowy Saturday spent with The Mountaineers' Alpine Scrambling Field Trip at Stevens Pass, I was looking forward to the true freedom of the hills with none other than Jenny. We pored through the various guidebooks and wta.org listings and narrowed it down to a few options. I wanted something snowy and high and I had been wanting to visit Mount Pilchuck for awhile. The weather forecast was for Partly Cloudy and warm which, in the Pacific Northwest, is as good as it gets in the spring. So Pilchuck it was!
Sunday morning got off to a lazy start, which is usually counter to our weekend warrior goals, but with the days being so much longer, I didn't feel the need to hurry so we enjoyed a good balanced breakfast and got everything packed and ready for the day. We planned for wet but warm air and soft-snow conditions at the trailhead transitioning to windy, cold, and potentially icy conditions at the summit. In other words, we were ready for anything! Except the rangers, that is. On the way up, I recalled that my National Park season pass had expired at the turn of the month and that I was now entering a place which requires a pass (In WA, many National Forest trailheads require either a multi-agency pass or the Northwest Forest Pass). Luckily, we still had a small town and several hamlets to drive through on our way and found a grocery store in Granite Falls that sold the Northwest Forest Permit. One year permit, please. *kaching* $30.
We had the Jeep today and we got to enjoy the sound of forest road gravel under its tires as we wound our way up past snowline along FS42. As the mile-markers ticked by, we began to see spots of snow in the trees and eventually we found ourselves around 3000ft and amidst nearly a foot of snowpack on the road. Some of this snow was recent (as it snowed heavily the day before at Stevens Pass) and some was residual from a snowy March and early April. We passed a couple of AWD wagons parked 1/4mi from the trailhead and figured we might try pushing on to park closer. Alas, the packed snow on the road was still too deep even for the Jeep so we made an 11-point turn on the narrow snowy road and made our way back to a spot where there was room to park off the road.
Lacing up our boots and strapping down our gaiters, we hung the Forest Pass from the mirror, slathered on some SPF-50, and headed up the road. At the trailhead (which consisted of a privy and some parking spots) we were met by vaguery, as there were not any signs indicating if one little path we saw was the trail to the summit or to some other destination. Uncertain of this little trail-turned-drainage, we started up it, sloshing through the melting snowpack.
About the time we decided it was time for a layer adjustment, we spotted a registration kiosk for the Pilchuck trail. Accepting we were on the right track, we made our layer adjustments and Jenny adjusted her lacing a bit and we started up again with her in the lead.
The trail is beautiful with thick snowpack on the trail and fresh snowfall perched on the trees. We cross streams and drainages and hop across snow-bridges, hoping they will hold. I occasionally bust through a bridge here and there but never to any detriment as my boots are waterproof and I'm wearing gaiters. As the sun heats the fresh snowfall, icy bits of rain fall onto our shoulders and into our collars. This is both invigorating and unfuriating. Don't stop now Jenny! Ack! I'm getting hammered here!
From here, the terrain changed fundamentally. No longer were we following switchbacks through the trees or meandering through what might be a flowery meadow after the snow clears, but rather we followed a knife ridge towards the summit before breaking off to skirt the side of it, avoiding the worst of the leeward cornices. These slopes were much steeper and we found ourselves following the remnants of a bootpack closely to avoid post-holing off the trail and tumbling down into the softer snow.
Soon enough, we neared the summit and caught sight of the shelter built on the summit. The last few hundred feet went steeply and we found ourselves atop Mount Pilchuck (5,340 ft). Everything was covered in rime ice and corniced over from the recent storms. Having never been up here before, I had no idea where the rocky summit ended and the cornice continued. We pulled on our jackets to keep warm in the cold wind and kept our distance from the east edge of this place. We shared the shelter and its historical displays inside with the other people who had either gotten up before us or followed us in.
Mount Pilchuck, a granitic peak on the western edge of the Cascade Range forms the border between the low pasturelands of the Snohomish River Valley and the higher peaks to the east. Because of its full mile of prominence over the valley, it has terrific views from the distant Seattle skyline to the Puget Sound and San Juan Islands. Visible over the ridges to the north are Mount Baker and Mount Shuksan, and as we continue turning we see the formidable massif known as Three Fingers. As we look east, we see Glacier Peak (the wilderness volcano) and the mountains around Stevens Pass and Snoqualmie Pass. Continuing the sweeping gaze, you see Mount Rainier to the south, in the far distance through the haze. From I-5, Mount Pilchuck is the prominent triangler granite peak visible at the edge of the prairie. It appears quite formidable from there, as you face its rocky windswept side, unaware of the giant snowy bowls and rocky cliffs that are hidden on its complex east side.
After a quick lunch of leftover chicken fajitas, we crawled back out of the (shuttered) shelter and found some clouds had begun rolling in. Feeling cold and ready to get moving again, we hastily snapped a few summit photos and began our descent, plunge-stepping in the deep snow down the face to regain the traversing descent below the ridge. Feeling frisky, I opted not to follow the trail down for a bit and instead kept my height, which allowed me to glissade playfully down a little section to meet the trail again. Jenny, remembering our fun from Mount Adams, quickly decided she'd like to glissade as well so when we reached the saddle where we broke for lunch, instead of following the switchbacks of bootpacked snow down, we found a precipice blanketed in snow, pulled out our ice axes for speed control, and launched into the steep. 10 seconds later, we had lost 200ft and gained bigger smiles. We found a couple more small glissades and then we were back to the open meadows-turned-snowfields.
By this time, many more had walked up the trail and the strong sun had continued consolidating the fresh layers so we found the trail packed quite firmly and instead of deep post-hole boot tracks, we now had easygoing along a proper trail. Regaining the continuous trees and canopy, the warm temperature had accelerated the morning's slushfall. Jenny decided to brave the icy salvos from above while I decided quickly that I'd prefer my shell. We splashed through slushy snowdams and stream crossing and found ourselves at the trailhead again in no time. Following the deep ruts in the snow from whichever brave 4x4 had pushed through, we wandered into a much diferent scene than the quiet 3-car collection we had left in the morning. There were now cars shoehorned in along every slushy bit of the road all the way around the bend in the road. I guess we got there at the right time!
As we drove happily back down FS42, we decided that this was one of our favorite hikes ever. It seems like we always say that.
More photos can be seen HERE.
We had the Jeep today and we got to enjoy the sound of forest road gravel under its tires as we wound our way up past snowline along FS42. As the mile-markers ticked by, we began to see spots of snow in the trees and eventually we found ourselves around 3000ft and amidst nearly a foot of snowpack on the road. Some of this snow was recent (as it snowed heavily the day before at Stevens Pass) and some was residual from a snowy March and early April. We passed a couple of AWD wagons parked 1/4mi from the trailhead and figured we might try pushing on to park closer. Alas, the packed snow on the road was still too deep even for the Jeep so we made an 11-point turn on the narrow snowy road and made our way back to a spot where there was room to park off the road.
Lacing up our boots and strapping down our gaiters, we hung the Forest Pass from the mirror, slathered on some SPF-50, and headed up the road. At the trailhead (which consisted of a privy and some parking spots) we were met by vaguery, as there were not any signs indicating if one little path we saw was the trail to the summit or to some other destination. Uncertain of this little trail-turned-drainage, we started up it, sloshing through the melting snowpack.
About the time we decided it was time for a layer adjustment, we spotted a registration kiosk for the Pilchuck trail. Accepting we were on the right track, we made our layer adjustments and Jenny adjusted her lacing a bit and we started up again with her in the lead.
The trail is beautiful with thick snowpack on the trail and fresh snowfall perched on the trees. We cross streams and drainages and hop across snow-bridges, hoping they will hold. I occasionally bust through a bridge here and there but never to any detriment as my boots are waterproof and I'm wearing gaiters. As the sun heats the fresh snowfall, icy bits of rain fall onto our shoulders and into our collars. This is both invigorating and unfuriating. Don't stop now Jenny! Ack! I'm getting hammered here!
As we gained altitude, the tree canopy gave way to snow-covered scree fields and eventually open rolling fields of snow framed by rocky buttresses and stunning views of the North Cascades and San Juan Islands. Thankfully, there were at least two people ahead of us this morning, which made for easier walking in the deep snowpack. Still, we found ourselves high-stepping like a Soviet parade to follow the deep prints up the mountain. We no longer had bits of ice and cold water falling on us from the trees but now we had these deep prints to follow and blazing sunlight reflecting off the high snow. I peeled another layer. As we reached a saddle under the false summit, we decided it was time for a lunch snack so we dropped our packs, plopped down on them, and pulled out the various bits of nourishment we had thought to bring. Caschews, Apple, Coconut LaraBar, some Mango Juice.... We watch as a member of another party comes up the gully behind us. He says he's there with his parents who are trailing behind. After a bit of a rest, we stowed our jackets (which we had worn during the rest break) and started up the "trail" again.
From here, the terrain changed fundamentally. No longer were we following switchbacks through the trees or meandering through what might be a flowery meadow after the snow clears, but rather we followed a knife ridge towards the summit before breaking off to skirt the side of it, avoiding the worst of the leeward cornices. These slopes were much steeper and we found ourselves following the remnants of a bootpack closely to avoid post-holing off the trail and tumbling down into the softer snow.
Soon enough, we neared the summit and caught sight of the shelter built on the summit. The last few hundred feet went steeply and we found ourselves atop Mount Pilchuck (5,340 ft). Everything was covered in rime ice and corniced over from the recent storms. Having never been up here before, I had no idea where the rocky summit ended and the cornice continued. We pulled on our jackets to keep warm in the cold wind and kept our distance from the east edge of this place. We shared the shelter and its historical displays inside with the other people who had either gotten up before us or followed us in.
Mount Pilchuck, a granitic peak on the western edge of the Cascade Range forms the border between the low pasturelands of the Snohomish River Valley and the higher peaks to the east. Because of its full mile of prominence over the valley, it has terrific views from the distant Seattle skyline to the Puget Sound and San Juan Islands. Visible over the ridges to the north are Mount Baker and Mount Shuksan, and as we continue turning we see the formidable massif known as Three Fingers. As we look east, we see Glacier Peak (the wilderness volcano) and the mountains around Stevens Pass and Snoqualmie Pass. Continuing the sweeping gaze, you see Mount Rainier to the south, in the far distance through the haze. From I-5, Mount Pilchuck is the prominent triangler granite peak visible at the edge of the prairie. It appears quite formidable from there, as you face its rocky windswept side, unaware of the giant snowy bowls and rocky cliffs that are hidden on its complex east side.
As we drove happily back down FS42, we decided that this was one of our favorite hikes ever. It seems like we always say that.
More photos can be seen HERE.
The glissade tease has gotten me uber excited about our adventures planned for this summer!
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