Mount Ellinor (5,944ft)

I've heard of Mount Ellinor from locals.  I've read about it on SummitPost.  I've seen it poking out at the south end of the Olympics.  Needless to say, we have been wanting to do this since we knew about it.  So with a beautiful forecast, Jenny and I readied our packs and headed to the Olympic Peninsula.  We took the Fauntleroy-Southworth Ferry for a quick ride across Puget Sound and then headed directly for Hoodsport on US101.  From there, a meandering road through the hills and we found ourselves skirting beautiful Lake Cushman.  Eventually we turned onto the gravel Forest Service Road 24 and began winding our way steeply up to the trailhead, peering over the steep edges of this narrow road - only minutes before, we had passed a tow-truck with a 'victim' of the terrain in tow.  A dodge pickup had tried to turn around in a bad place or had been going too fast.  Either way, the evidence of rollover was clear.  Hearing the gravel crunching under the Jeep's Bridgestones, we passed under some downed timber and wondered if we would need a saw to get back down.

Now, Mount Ellinor has two trailheads, an upper and a lower.  The distance added is small but the elevation difference is another 1000ft.  We decided we'd drive up past the lower trailhead and see how far we got.  Well, we got pretty far.  Parking where the melting snowpack stopped us at 3400ft, we had only another 1/4 mile and 200ft of elevation to walk to the upper trailhead.  After a quick stop in the vault toilet and logging ourselves in the registry, we headed up. The initial bits of trail were fairly direct, immediately assaulting the ridge with few switchbacks to cut the grade.  In no time, we found ourselves on deepening snow and eventually we emerged from the tree canopy to a view of our objective.

This is where the trail turned unusual.  Most popular trails tend to avoid objective dangers but here we were, staring straight up an avalanche gully that looks like it collects the sloughs and slabs of a vast portion of this side of the mountain.  Thankfully, I had been watching the storms for the past weeks and paying attention to the avalanche conditions via the Northwest Weather & Avalanche Center and I knew that the primary danger had passed.  There were still the subjective dangers and I knew before we went up, Jenny might benefit from some refreshing on steep snow travel so we moved over to the side in a little bowl and practiced Moving in Balance, Rest Stepping, Self Arrest, Self Belay, Kicking Steps, and then headed back for the trail.  This was the steepest snow Jenny had been on and in the chute, the heavy wet snow was only a few inches deep with a layer of highly compacted snow-ice under it, no doubt formed by the many footprints that  had walked it before, the sloughing avalanches, and the dripping water from the overhanging rocks.  This icy base made the steps shallow and made the footing tenuous.  Aggressively plunging her ice-axe in a self-belay maneuver, she overcame the steepest section of the gully.  In this place, we were glad we took the time to review the basics and Jenny led most of the way, maintaining a steady rhythm.  Step step axe.  Step step axe.  Step step axe.  Her Concentration allowed her to largely block out the fear that might otherwise have taken hold.

With the 1000ft chute ascended, we emerged in a wide and brilliantly white bowl of pristine snow, cradled here in the saddle between the peak of Ellinor to our left and Mount Washington (6,255ft) to our right.  Reveling in this high sun collecting place, we decided to stop for a snack.  An apple pie LaraBar, some turkey-jerky, and some Shot Blocks in us, we felt energized and ready for the final push.  The summit was not in view from here and in fact, we didn't know it, but the false summit we had been watching all the way up was a couple hundred feet below the true summit.  With the fresh carbohydrates in our stomachs and the urgency of the summit so close, we raced up the last two pitches of steep snow and in no time, we had a commanding view of nearly the entire state of Washington from the summit of Mount Ellinor.  From our vantage we could see the Olympics west to Mount Olympus and north to The Brothers and Mount Constance.  Peeking out from behind nearby Mount Washington was Mount Baker, the northernmost of the Washington Cascade volcanoes.  Sweeping further we were able to see Three Fingers, Mount Pilchuck, and Glacier Peak.  Mount Rainier appeared massive and overwhelming from here, drastically dwarfing the appearance of all other things in view.  In the distance were Mount Adams and Mount St Helens still completely snowcapped in their pearly winter coats.  In the foreground below these massive volcanoes, we could see the skyscrapers of Seattle glimmering with the many waterways of Puget Sound and Hood Canal dividing the land in between.  Below us was Lake Cushman, with the first boats beginning to venture out and enjoy the summer.  Looking over the leeward cornices to the northwest were huge untamed valleys of snow and tree with jagged peaks.  This is Olympic National Park, one of Washington's most remote places.  The view from Ellinor is one that inspires the soul to keep exploring.  There is just so much out there.

After basking on the summit for much longer than we anticipated, we decided it was time to reap the rewards of our snowy altitude.  We knew from the climb that we would be glissading the vast portion of this mountain and so we strapped on our gaiters, shut all our zippers, tucked everything in, cinched our gloves, and pushed off the lip, clutching our ice axes as a makeshift brake. 

What took 10 minutes to walk up took mere seconds to slide down.  The summit step went by with a hoot.  The step down to the snow bowl was faster and a little longer, since the sun had begun to lose its incidence on it and allowed it to harden a bit.  Jenny's expert glissading convinced me she would be ready to tackle the steep chute... on her butt.  When you're going up, you strongly fear falling.  Funny how we lose that fear when we're sliding on purpose.  So down the chute she went, disappearing over the roll, and I quickly followed suit since I knew another couple and their dog Alex were also ready to come down.  The glissade was fast.  I wasn't wearing shell pants - just my softshells - and my rear got cold.  It was also wet, but I couldn't tell from the numbness.

After 1500 ft of glissading, we had again found the bottom of the avalanche chute where the treeline begins.  Here we shook the corn snow out of all the little places it had found its way into.  My fly.  My pack harness.  My camera pocket.  My gauntlet.  My hair.  Jenny found a moment to snap a real keeper of a photo.  I love this woman and her sense of humor. 

Sense of feeling regained in our buttocks, we continued on down through the trees, loosely retracing the few switchbacks we had ascended and eventually found ourselves back on the steep ridge and onto dirt once again.  Back at the trailhead, we saw the register had been filled with many more names after ours.  We certainly hadn't been alone today but it was amusing to see the numbers highlighted in ink.  We trudged through the soft snow on the road back towards our parking spot, which thankfully was about 20ft shorter than this morning, thanks to the hot sun and rapid melting.  Here, an elderly couple had set up picnic chairs for no other reason than to enjoy the sights (which were outstanding even from here).  Jenny and I decided television was wholly unnecessary to our survival as we changed into fresh, dry cotton and snacked on turkey and cheese sandwiches.

Idling down FS24, we admired the summer that lay ahead of us.  We have so many goals and **THWACK**  SHRIEK!!!!  Ooops, sorry Jenny... didn't see that branch sticking out in front of the windshield!  As we made our way back to the ferry, we caught a few glimpses of where we had been.  As the afternoon sun moved farther toward the west, it was casting dramatic shadows on the eastern face we had just climbed.  It's always fun to see that... the big snowy and rugged peak that you just stood atop, looking all dramatic in the late-day light, kind of like the fresh lines of sun on your face and the afterglow of an amazing day out.

Click HERE for more photos from Mount Ellinor.