It all started with a grand plan to spend 4-5 days summitting Mount Olympus: a grueling 17.5 mi hike to basecamp, followed by a heavily glaciated 8000ft peak in Washington's Olympic National Park, and the subsequent hike out. The time and effort involved just getting to basecamp meant that we wanted to be relatively sure we would get a decent weather window but days prior to our trip, weather forecasts for the Peninsula were ironclad-bad. It was going to rain. Hard. The whole time. So we altered our plans and made for the east and south cascades. We had struck out with Mount Saint Helens a couple weeks prior thanks to not being able to obtain a permit, but now, with nothing but dripping sunshine on the horizon and midweek permits available during the time I had already taken off work, we figured now was the time.
So we headed down to Cougar, WA to pick up our permits at the Lone Fir Resort, a place we had visited almost a year earlier when we explored nearby Ape Cave. We weren't totally certain what to expect at Climbers' Bivouac (the Mount Saint Helens climbing trailhead) so we were prepared to camp in a state park down here in Cougar, but the person issuing permits at Lone Fir assured us there was available camping at CB so we decided that would be our plan. We needed food, though, and Cougar being the last place to buy anything, happened to be a little thin in this regard. There were a couple restaurants (Lone Fir included) and a single gas station / convenience mart. These certainly were not the fresh fruits, cured meats, and other wholesome foods we had hoped would supplement our standard munchables of Lara Bars and Gu Chomps. Alas, there was no choice, so we selected a motley array of ramen, juice, packaged nuts, jerky, and milk. In a moment of good judgement, we decided to fill up on a good meal at the Lone Fir before heading up.
The drive up to CB winds from the glimmering reservoir Yale Lake past the Swift Number Two Forebay and eventually up the forested southern flanks of Mount Saint Helens. Since we moved to WA in December last year, we had rarely caught glimpses of this volcano. It's not as high as many of the others in the region so it's not visible from as many places like Rainier and Baker, so when we rounded the bend on FS83 and caught our first glimpse of this beautifully prominent cone, it came as a shock. From Mount Adams a year earlier we had seen it but from the much higher Mount Adams, it's just a bump on the horizon. It's the same story as when I saw it from Rainier many times this year and past. But now, in the shadow of it, looking up at those snowfields and ridges gave a much greater impression of scale. Mount Saint Helens, like her neighboring volcanoes, is a big mountain.
Upon arriving at Climbers' Bivouac, we were amazed at how well the place had been maintained. I had seen many rants on the high price of permits but seeing the immaculate vault toilet, clean and level framed campsites, and good signage, I didn't seem to care. In a way, I appreciate the limitation of 100 climbers per day, as it prevents the lands from becoming a trash dumpster for the gapers that would otherwise swarm here from Portland. Thrilled by the brisk air and excitement of the climb, we quickly pitched our tent, unpacked our pads and bags, and made sure everything was ready for an early start. Aside from some noisy latecomers arriving at the site next to us, we slept great.
With our wristwatches alerting us to the rising sun, we rolled out of bed and began boiling some water for our breakfast Cups-O-Noodles and Tully's French Roast and the other odd bits of breakfast we had scored at the Cougar Market. In no time we had our boots on and the campsite packed away, and were ready to head up. The trailhead starts serenely, winding for a couple miles through snow-filled forest. Everything was still mostly frozen from the cool overnight temps so we were moving easily. As we came out of the treeline into the first major lava arm that would mark the start of the climbing portion of our trip, we donned crampons and began stepping up the steep icy slopes. The official trail is well-marked by wooden posts but in the snow, you are free to wander a bit instead of walking the moraine as the posts would have you do.
As we got higher, we began noticing the numbers of people on the mountain. From anywhere on the route, you can see large portions of the rest of it and this means you are aware of nearly every one of the hundred that could be here today. Passing the "rock triangle" at 5,900ft, the sun was growing intense and so we decided to stop and apply sunscreen and have a bite to eat. Further up, a very noisy fellow in a bicycle jersey and soccer shorts passed us, chattering away at the two women who seemed disinterested with the stories of short-sales and stock trading. Jenny and I marveled at how oblivious some people can be. Did he even know he was in a wilderness area?
As we came around a particular point in the route, gaining the Monitor Ridge, the summit rim came into view. Normally, a mountain would have a summit ridge, but Mount Saint Helens, having blown a crater out of itself in 1980, has a rim surrounding the leftover south side that serves as the mountain's highpoint. Looking around us, we could see Mount Adams shimmering in the sun, Mount Hood beckoning us to Oregon, and Mount Jefferson, far to the south, peeking through the distant clouds. Up above at the rim, we could see the
ants people marching around the edge of the rim, looking for the best place to view down into the crater at the newly re-formed lava dome that had grown a few years ago. As we now marched methodically towards the summit, we anticipated our own chance to look down into the crater. Soon, the earliest people to reach the rim began making their descent. Some of them chose to ride the glissade chutes and others, puzzlingly, chose to walk. I'm not sure why anybody would take the stairs when they can take a slide instead, but we agreed for sure we would be sliding.
At the summit, we were surprised at the size of the cornices. We figured after the recent warm temperatures, they would mostly have broken off by now, adding to the growth of the USA's youngest glacier, Crater Glacier. But alas, the late-season storms had built them high and strong and they were still here, providing an untrustworthy place to stand for a view. Settling for a few broken-down spots and some hoisting of the camera by arm, we snapped a few shots of the lava dome and backed away for a summit lunch of cheese, crackers, and salmon. After lunch, we donned our shell pants, gloves, and gaiters, and stowed our crampons in preparation for a rapid descent. Pointing our toes down the best looking glissade chute, away we went. It's neat how everybody still making the uphill journey stops and watches you slide past in the chute, clearly longing to be right there doing what you're doing. They would get their chance soon enough.
On the way down, I knew some of the glissades would take us off the trail down the wrong side of the moraine we had followed so we were careful to hop out of the chute at the appropriate time, unlike the couple ahead of us, who followed it down into a deep snow bowl, necessitating an arduous hike back to the main route. As they trudged back toward the route, we sailed past in another chute, enjoying the bliss of this cold slide. By the time we reached the last glissade right into the treeline, we had cold butts and wet gloves. It was a beautiful warm day in the southern cascades. As we trodded down the trail back to CB, we encountered a family of Dunlops who, at this late hour, were just starting up. They appeared to have fanny-packs and approximately one liter of water each - nowhere near enough, as they were already sweating heavily. They asked if it would take just a couple hours to get up. Considering it had taken us 6hrs to that point, we chortled and told them they should count on 5 or 6...maybe more. I can only hope they heeded our warning, but I am pretty sure they would have turned back at the first steep snow slope.
On our way to the Lone Fir for a 'victory lunch' of sandwiches and beer, we saw the strangest sign. It appeared to instruct visitors to add sliced bacon to jellyfish. I'll never know the true meaning, but the caption said "Pour Water on Camp Fires".
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