Earlier in the winter, I enrolled in
The Mountaineers Alpine Scrambling course which consists of a few workshops at the clubhouse and then several skill-building field trips in various conditions. Along with the core portions of this class are co-requisites of Mountaineering First Aid, which took up four 8hr Saturdays and Navigation, which took one particularly miserable rainy and cold Saturday in March. This past Saturday was the "Rock Field Trip" in Leavenworth, WA. Having a bit of rock climbing experience, most of this was trivial but it was a great reason to get out to Leavenworth for the first time, since I had heard a lot of good things about the area. Jenny, highly unamused at the prospect of sharing yet another weekend with The Mountaineers, entered her protest and we came up with a diabolical plan to smuggle her in on the trip and then have Sunday to ourselves up there to enjoy the area further. So Friday night we packed up everything we could need for a weekend in the mountains including our car camping gear, hiking/climbing gear, and Jenny's laptop so she could finish her chemistry homework. Now all we needed were plans for Sunday. Consulting the
75 Scrambles in Washington book I recently picked up, we decided on either Wedge Mountain or Colchuck Lake.
I may or may not have forgotten to tell Jenny how early I had to be in Leavenworth to meet for the Field Trip but an 8am start time with a 2-3hr drive meant we were waking up at 4am. When the alarm sounded, it felt far too early. In fact, it was too early, but it was what we had to do. While Jenny whipped up some eggs, I crammed everything into the back of the Jeep and soon enough, we were off. Jenny has only been up to Index along US2 so I was looking forward to her impressions of the rest of the way to Stevens Pass (4,061ft) and for us to both finally see the other side of the Cascade Crest. She nodded off about the time we hit Stevens. Awakened by my grunts of approval and swerving in my lane as I peered at the stunning Wenatchee River canyon, she marveled at this landscape. I thought it looked like a compressed and steeper version of western Montana. We rolled into Leavenworth with plenty of time to spare so we got some ice to chill our 6packs of ale and found the Ranger Station only to find it was closed on weekends (Wenatchee Ranger District: you suck). Picking from the meager selection of brochures they left outside, we found a campsite list and hoped for the best.
Jenny dropped me off at the climbers parking lot along Icicle Road where the Mountaineers were assembling, met some of my recent acquaintances, and finally left me to my devices while she drove up to do her own hike. I spent the day fulfilling the requirements of the class by demonstrating specific skills. It turns out that one of those important skills is avoiding rattlesnakes. Towards the end of the day, while clambering down through a rocky cliff, I heard that telltale rattle and warned the guys following me there was a snake before rapidly making my way off its den. As Wes stepped down where I had been, the rattle must have become more insistent, as a harrowing display of
save yourself ensued. After the dust cloud cleared, the rest of the group chose another way down. Arriving back at the parking lot at the end of the day, I texted Jenny, who by that time had made her way back to Leavenworth to work on chemistry. She arrived minutes later and we enjoyed a couple Leavenworth Biers (not recommended...) while waiting for the "All Clear" from the trip leader signifying everybody had made it down safe. Jenny had scored us a terrific campsite at
Eightmile Campround just up the road. We spent the evening sipping Fish Tale Organic Pale Ale, dipping our feet in the aptly named Icicle River, watching ducks along the opposite bank, and gazing at the amazing rocky walls surrounding us. Before long, the early start and long day in the sun caught up with me and I insisted we retire to our tent.
In the morning, we made our final decision to head towards Wedge Mountain with the promise of an amazing view of the
Enchantments Range, Washington's most protected and beautiful area. The guidebook detailed a very rough and rocky approach with difficult route-finding. That is just the road to the trailhead. Today we were very happy to have brought the Jeep as the Mazda simply would not have made it. There were countless muddy mires and rocky ruts that tested every bit of ground clearance and traction the Jeep had to offer. Finally being stopped at about 4100ft, some 500 vertical feet and 0.5mi short of the summer trailhead, we did an 11point turn on the cliffy narrow road and began paring down what we wanted to wear and carry. Knowing we had arrived a bit late after a lazy morning at Eightmile, we opted to go fast and light, shedding a little extra clothing and food from our packs, banking on the weather holding well enough. We were well aware that we were not totally alone on the trail, as the last vehicle we saw was an empty horse trailer a mile back down the road with the pair of horseshoe prints leading up the road in front of us - but that pair of riders were likely the only humans anywhere near us today - a stark change from prior trips. We marked our parking spot on GPS and headed up the trail.
We soon reached the proper trailhead which was essentially just a clearing with a dirt path heading steeply up the hill in front of us. As we caught glimpses of the ridge ahead and the summit above, I wondered how difficult the climb up to the ridge would be. The sun was beating down on us hard and the temperature by now was up to around 80. As we followed the ridge, we saw that the pair of horses were also heading up this way and we wondered if we would be encountering a pair of hunters or just some folks out for a horseback ride. Pretty soon though, we came around a rocky bump in the ridge and saw the two horses hitched to a tree, with their saddle-bags resting on a tree stump. Curious why they had left them, we continued up, assuming now that we were dealing with turkey hunters who would inevitably be wearing camouflage and they would see us before we saw them. We soon neared the supposed fork in the trail where the cabin would be (never did see a cabin, despite the "75 Scrambles" insistence that we would pass it). As we neared, we heard voices ahead of us and eventually we caught up to a lone woman who appeared to be meandering. We talked for a minute and it turns out she was a local and she and her husband were just out for a ride. Eventually, we met the husband coming down after turning back just a bit further up, who seemed very surprised to see anybody else at all. We both remarked afterward how friendly he was and how lucky he was to live in such close proximity to this kind of terrain.
We knew now that we were on our own, totally alone on this eastern flank of the Cascades. As we were now out of the denser trees and into a thin ghost forest (left by horrible fires 15 years ago), we made some quick judgements about the remainder of our destination. With nothing but sunny slopes ahead, the route was now simple. Ascend the 'headwall' to the saddle in the ridge and then traverse along the ridge southward until we reach the summit of Wedge Mountain. We kicked our steps methodically upward, trying to avoid the many pitfalls along the way. I mean pitfalls quite literally - as the snow drifts around downed logs and trees, it creates a void which is then covered by more blowing snow. Much like a crevasse on a glacier, stepping through that thin top layer can leave a foot dangling. Without the danger of falling into the icy deep, it is still quite startling to suddenly drop a foot or three as these little holes swallow your lower leg. We did see another set of tracks, evidently laid by a skier first going up and then making nice round turns back down. These were old and blown over with about an inch of fresher snow and subsequent melting, but enough to at least see that others had been here this season.
I knew on the other side of the ridge would be dramatic views and I was hoping to both preserve that "ah hah!" moment until closer to the summit and also to make our ascent more efficient so I steered us more diagonally towards the false summit to our left, not gaining the ridge as far north as the summer trail would. Eventually, we had gained enough altitude to see the top of the ridge further north where it was now below us and know that it was a knife edge of rock, heavily corniced by snow. We now opted to keep well back from the edge as we continued along through the sparse trees and deep snow. Coyote tracks. Elk tracks. We no longer saw any more evidence of humans on our path. Jenny, practicing her snow travel skills, led the way along the half mile of traversing the ridge we had left between the false and true summits. Soon we arrived - at a stopping point. We saw now that the true summit was separated from us by a hundred food wide chute that, in its current condition and our state of gear (no crampons, no rope, etc), was impassable. The true summit taunted us, a mere 30 feet above our stance.
So there at the minor true summit of Wedge we stood.
6,885 6,855 ft. The view was spectacular - the kind of thing you would imagine of Alaska or Patagonia. The terrain in front of us known as The Enchantments was a frozen paradise of some of Washington's highest non-volcanic peaks. Below us was a 2000 ft drop down to the valley floor. The view from left to right included McClellan Peak, Little Annapurna, Dragontail Peak, Mount Temple, Three Musketeers Ridge, and the Edward Plateau. Behind Dragontail in the western mist we knew were Mount Colchuck and Mount Stewart. Below the horizon in the valley were Nada and Snow Lakes, still mostly frozen, with the higher lakes of the Enchantments still frozen solid and completely snowed over further west. To the right of our view northward, are the Cashmere Crags, a very popular rock climbing destination. After a few minutes snapping summit photos, we took note of the weather, which appeared to be changing and heading for us and decided we should head down.
Heading back, we traversed wherever feasible to make several short glissades possible. When the slope lessened, we plunge-stepped at a near galloping pace back to the trees. As we descended through the trees, I noticed Jenny was now tending to stay on the snow instead of off it. I figured she was really getting her snow legs and beginning to appreciate the benefits of walking on snow such as reduced impact (both on the body and the land), increased speed, less effort, and so on. As the snow cover became less consistent, we began to voice our disapproval and trudged back down the pebbled trail. We reached the official trailhead and looked back. We had come down some 2000ft in a mere flash. Looking back up at where we had been, we admired our day's work and strolled back down the road to the Jeep, enjoying the airy feeling of this high road and the seclusion of a wilderness that hasn't been spoiled by overuse. Back at the Jeep, we gulped some Fish Tale Organic Ale and changed into our comfy cottons and soft shoes, enjoying the freedom of the hills afforded by this terrific day. We had accomplished our goals for the weekend and now had nothing left but to make our way back home. We both agreed that Mexican food sounded great, so we piled back into the Jeep and scurried back down to the highway. Jenny got to enjoy the scenery on the way home, as she wasn't snoozing this time.
View the rest of our photos
HERE.
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