The storm raged all Thanksgiving night in the Central Cascades. When the dust cleared on Friday morning, 11″ of fresh snow fell on Crystal Mountain. Curtis, Gus, Beau, Austin and I did our best to chop through as much of that pow as possible. We had pretty good luck finding stashes and face shots all day. Then the big news dropped. Shortly after 1 PM Gus, who apparently was using his iPhone for more than texting and reading emails, pulled up the Crystal Mountain Ski Patrol Twitter feed and announced that Northway would be opening in 20 minutes. We’d heard blasts going off all day long over there; and now the ski patrol had done enough control work to safely open the zone for the first time this season. Since we were skiing High Campbell, we had to traverse the entire width of the resort to get there. After a few chairlift rides, buzzing down a cat track and 5 minutes of boot packing; we were ready to go. This video is from my first of two runs in Northway. I think Beau summed it up best, “that shit cray.”

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If you’re on a iPhone or mobile device, watch it on Vimeo.

One of my favorite lines from last season was descending The Shuksan Arm just outside of the Mount Baker ski area. Ryan and I rode chair 8 up, and after getting grilled by a ski patroller, were allowed to leave the resort and skin along the ridge. It was late March and the snow was nearly perfect. Baker had been getting hammered all week, and this Sunday was the first time in days that the avalanche conditions were moderate enough to make a safe journey out onto the arm. After spending a little more than hour traversing the ridge, we ripped skins and charged down to the valley. The snow was light and crisp; turning was effortless.

With memories of this day in mind, Ryan and I returned to Shuksan Arm 8 months later, this time bringing along Keith, Beau, Gus, Megan and Austin. An early season storm had just cycled through the Mount Baker zone, and conditions looked ripe for a late November pow day. As always, I toted my Olympus Pen E-P3 camera for still photographs. This time out I brought along a new toy: a GoPro HD Hero2 video camera. Once we reached the top of the Arm, I strapped the camera to my dome and hit “REC.” I let it run the entire time we descended, about 25 minutes. The edit above compresses our descent to about 5 minutes, and uses still photographs I took on the skin up. The skiing at the top is steep, fun and deep. The skiing near the bottom is also steep, but our pace slows considerably as we try to maneuver treacherous cliffs, trees and rocks. The video is not intended to be a highlight reel; it’s a visual narrative of our approach, ascent and descent.

We parked in the lower lot of the Mount Baker ski area and skinned along a cat track that lead us to the base of Chair 8. Without having a specific ascent in mind, we decided to leave the ski resort and skin directly up the Arm. We also debated skinning up underneath Chair 8 and accessing the Arm via the backcountry gate up top; but that idea was quickly nixed because “skinning in a ski area is lame.” In hindsight, that probably would have been the quicker, safer way to access the Arm; but as Gus likes to say, he’ll try anything once.

In total, it took us about 4 hours to ascend the Arm. No skin track existed, but we were able to make use of tracks coming down the slope. We also did a fair amount of breaking trail. There were a couple of “oh shit” moments. Although our morning bluebird conditions gave way to overcast, visibility was still excellent. If nothing else, we could clearly see the predicaments we skinned our way into on the way up.

Once we reached the summit of the Arm, we traversed along the ridge towards Mount Shuksan. Beau, Megan and I climbed up a knob to have a look around and snap a few photos while the rest of the team waited below. With the area sufficiently explored and the daylight growing short, I locked down my heels and flipped on the GoPro.

Although it was only November, I think the snow this time was lighter and deeper than it was last March. The first 15 minutes of this descent might be the best snow I have ever skied.

More photos on Flickr, or check out the slideshow below.

All anyone could talk about all week was this “storm from ALASKA” that was sliding down the West Coast en route to the Cascades. Local ski areas kept up the stoke by posting pictures to Facebook of picnic tables with 4 inches of snow sitting on them and proclaiming “LA NIÑA has ARRIVED!” Amongst my friends, emails and text messages started flying around with links to weather forecasts and snowfall telemetry. Did I buy all this hype? Of course I did. I encouraged it.

The two most probable options were skiing Mount Rainier or near the Mount Baker Ski Area. Later in the week it became clear that Baker got the worst (the best) of it; and about 10 of us made plans to rendezvous in Seattle for a 5:30 AM departure on Sunday morning. I cruised up I-5 with Curtis before peeling off to scoop up Russ, who now lives in Mount Vernon. My VW, sans chains, carried the three of us the length of Highway 542 all the way to the upper lot of the ski area. Shortly after 9 AM we left the car with skis on our feet—something worth noting since I hadn’t been able to do this since July.

Russ, Curtis and I vectored towards Table Mountain and the Blueberry Chutes. About 45 minutes into our tour we happened to run into Tristan and Bobby, who joined us for the rest of the climb. Visibility was good enough for safe skiing; but barely passable for photography. Overcast skies and light snow falling all day created flat light conditions. We were treated to a few glances of the summit of Table Mountain, but most of the day it was shrouded in weather.

We shot one of the Blueberry Chutes for our first lap. The snow was deep and heavy, although not deep enough in some areas. Tristan tripped a snow shark that knocked off one of his skis. The edge looked a little bent, but nothing a quality shop couldn’t hammer back into place.

For our second lap, we ascended the ridge a little higher and found an untrafficked chute. After skiing the lower angle upper part of the slope, we traversed left and encountered a deliciously steep line that took us all the way to the lake. I employed the standard “let me ski this first so I can get pictures of you guys” pitch; and let loose down the 40 degree fall line. I tend to get some looks for having a heavier touring setup; but today my 115mm waisted skis were worth every ounce when the rockered tips blistered through the heavy November powder. After grabbing some shots of the crew halfway down, I returned the favor and let everyone blaze trail ahead of me towards the lake.

Bobby and Tristan called it a day after two laps, but Curtis, Russ and I wanted to squeeze one more descent in before heading to the car. We skinned up to the same chute as before and cashed in on the remaining freshies.

When we arrived back at the car, the other half of our expedition left a message on the hood of my VW. They were about 30 minutes ahead of us; and came up with an excellent exit strategy: beers at Boundary Bay. When we all convened over brews in Bellingham; Doug, Beau, Joe, Andrew and Aaron filled me in on how their day skiing in the resort proper was. Although the chairs weren’t uploading yet, they skied a few tree runs and even carved their way through the Canyon (video). From all accounts, it sounds as if their day was as excellent as ours.

More photos available on Flickr, or just check out the slideshow below.

Only two weeks after our icy adventure up Mount Baker’s Coleman Glacier, we returned to the Heliotrope Ridge trailhead for round II. Even on the drive in it was evident that we would be dealing with drastically different conditions. The snowline is now well below the parking lot (3,650′), making the last mile or so treacherous. I was happy to let Gus maneuver his Subaru along the winding road; had we been in my Volkswagen I would have chained up. Stepping out of the car at the trailhead the first thing that struck me was how cold it was. Keith, Gus and I quickly geared up and started hiking the Hogsback. The mud and rocks of October were now covered with snow and ice. We gladly endured knowing that less than a couple hours up the trail would be our first taste of powder for the season.

Keith turned 27 years old on this Sunday. It was also his first time touring and using his new setup. Mount Baker is a pretty ambitious introduction to backcountry skiing. Both enthusiastic and overwhelmed, Keith’s comments ranged from “this is so fucking sweet” to “I need a break!” He hung in there though, and after taking one powdery lap down the glacier, I’m pretty sure we hooked him.

After grabbing a quick snack and changing into ski boots, we started skinning up the Coleman Glacier. We were hardly the only skiers out that day. We encountered at least two dozen other skiers and snowboarders. There were even a few dogs getting in on the fresh powder. During our first descent one of the dogs chased Gus for a good 500 feet.

Gus took the above shot with his iPhone 4S. With a little post processing in Lightroom, the new 4S is capable of producing surprisingly rich images. In my hands is the Olympus PEN EP-3 fitted with the 14-150mm zoom. This setup has become the workhorse of my recent outdoor and travel photography.

For our first run, we headed up Heliotrope ridge and skied from there. Gus and I made turns through shin deep powder for just over 1000′ before slapping skins back on and heading up for round two.

For lap number two we stayed to the climber’s left and vectored toward the Coleman-Deming col. After reaching 7500 feet we transitioned and skied the fall line down to the toe of the Coleman Glaicer (~6000 feet). The descent here was lower angle, which allowed the powdery snow to pile up deeper. Seldom did either of us reach the bottom of the fresh stuff to scrape the icy crust we skied two weeks prior. Halfway down I said to Gus that this wasn’t good. He looked at me incredulously and responded, “what are you talking about?! This is GREAT!!!” I said, “I know. We’re getting spoiled.” Shin deep blower pow and bluebird on a wide open glacier is not typical Washington skiing; and we were getting treated to this in early November. Six months had passed since either of us had skied snow like this. In our outings from May through October, we skied all kinds of corn, slush, ice and crust. These adventures were nothing short of exciting, but are more or less methadone for a powder-addict in recovery. Making turns in the fluff has a certain kind of friendly familiarity; it reminds you of everything you love about skiing. Once experienced, it’s a hard habit to kick. After six months of sobriety I couldn’t be happier to fall off the wagon again.

The lower we went on the glacier, the higher the rock to pow ratio rose. After a few brutal sounding scrapes, we popped off our skis and trotted down the Hogsback to the car. As tabulated by Gus, the numbers for Sunday’s ski were as follows: 4600 feet of climbing and 2300 feet of skiing over two laps. We reached a peak elevation of 7500 feet.

More photos on Flickr, or watch the slideshow below.

Last weekend a group of us ventured up from Seattle to spend some time at Alpental. We stayed at the base of the iconic ski area which also the jumping off point for a number of gorgeous off-season trails. The final weekend of October 2011 might be the last time this year that the trail to Snow Lake is completely void of snow; and that’s okay by me. While I certainly enjoyed the company and beautiful fall colors in the alpine; conversation on the way to Snow Lake frequently shifted towards the upcoming ski season. Trips, gear and backcountry conquests were all served up as topics. This year I am season pass holder at Alpental and Snoqualmie; and I’m looking forward to getting to know the terrain I surveyed on Saturday much better once it is all blanketed in the white stuff.

I captured the above image of Snow Lake after hiking in 4 miles and crossing over the saddle at 4400′ between Snoqualmie Mountain and Chair Peak.

Nick Postorino and Sara Miller married at Wellspring Spa on September 10, 2011. Under perfect late summer mountain skies, they said their “I do’s” and invited us to celebrate with them into the night. In addition to being a guest, Nick and Sara asked me to photograph their wedding. Although I seldom put the Nikon down for the better part of 10 hours on that Saturday, it was one of the most fun events I’ve had the opportunity to shoot. Picturesque setting, wonderful old friends, exciting new ones and two very welcoming families made the day memorable. More than anything else, I hope these photos convey a story, a visual narrative, of Nick and Sara’s wedding. If it seems as though Nick, Sara and their guests are having fun—they are. From hair and make-up to vows to toasts, I doubt there has been a marriage that began with so much joy and laughter.

From the moment I arrived at Wellspring, near Paradise at Mount Rainier, I crashed the bridal party dialing in hair-dos, clothing and make-up. It’s always fun to jump back and forth between the bride and groom: the women sipping champagne with men swilling beers. Getting prepared for a wedding is a team effort for the bride and her troops; while the men casually ask each other if their tie looks alright or how to fold a pocket square. In the end, both of these groups looked stunning and made my job as photographer pretty easy.

Here Sara and her bridesmaids pay homage to Nick’s love of baseball.

I shot the groom’s and bride’s sides separately before the wedding. Nick and Sara elected to not see each other before the ceremony. While I was allowed to frequently cross lines between the camps, making sure neither caught a glimpse of the other while making these photos added to the fun.

With both sides dressed and groomed, the guests took their seats and the stage was set for a ceremony in a nearby clearing. Sara’s brother Jason served as the officiant. He delivered one of the most humorous yet touching ceremonies I’ve ever witnessed—something that no doubt suited Nick and Sara perfectly.

With the wedding ceremony complete, we wanted to make sure the bridal party and family got a chance to mug with the bride and groom. Even though it took several hundred shutter actuations to capture this, everyone was fun to work with.

With the formal bridal party and family photos in the can, Nick, Sara and I headed up to Mount Rainer to grab a few shots in front of the iconic mountain. We timed it perfectly. Just as we reached the lookout the mountain was being bathed in the glorious rays of dusk. As I glanced at the LCD on camera I couldn’t believe what I was getting—the photos looked almost surreal. The idea for this private photo session was all Sara and Nick’s, and I was thrilled to be shooting it. It was also nice to break away from the excitement of the wedding for a moment and have a chance to chill with Nick and Sara.

By the time we returned to the throng, night had fell and the reception was in full swing. Beer and wine were flowing and Nick cued an expertly selected wedding playlist. Toasts were made and glasses were hoisted, and before too long everyone was on the green grass dance floor celebrating.

Even the photographer found time to put down the camera and get in on the party. I have to give credit to Ashley for dutifully acting as my “second shooter” here.

These are just a taste of the photos from the wedding. Please head over to Flickr to view all 269 images from the event. Also, if you have 18 minutes, watch the slideshow below.

Prints can be ordered by visiting http://www.grandriverimaging.com/Explosion5000. Just enter your email address and Event Code 25862-nicksara. If you’d like help with ordering a print or have any questions, please feel free to contact me.

Sunday’s ski down the Coleman Glacier on the northwest slopes of Mount Baker was literally a bloody mess. Inspired by a trip report published on TurnsAllYear.com; Gus, Tristan, Megan and I designated October 23 as the day we would Occupy Baker. While we didn’t find boot deep pow; we did encounter a liberal amount of rocks, ice and treacherous terrain.

Last Thanksgiving Gus and I made our first turns of 2010-2011 season at Crystal Mountain. Charging through heavy early season powder on Northway unknowingly started the clock on a year long quest. November became the first tick mark on a list followed by 11 other consecutive months. Seldom a weekend passed between our inaugural day at Crystal and the end of April where skiing did not enter the picture. The goal of skiing every month for a year really wasn’t talked about until the spring. Sometime in May Gus called me up to tell me he’d driven to Alpental and made a few turns despite the lifts being closed. I thought that sounded like a good idea so I cruised up there myself one Friday night and skinned up. With the days growing longer, Gus and I met up at the park and ride in Bellevue after work on the evening of June 1 and again shot up I-90 to Alpental. We climbed the front side of the mountain and sloshed around the corn on the way down. In July Gus, Brandon Cox and I parked our car at the hairpin on the North Cascades Highway and climbed up several thousand feet near the South Early Winter Spire. We camped in the alpine, woke up, and skied all the next day before descending back to the car. Our most ambitious ski trip was in August. Gus, Ryan, Tristan, Bobby and I reached the summit of Washington’s second highest peak, Mount Adams, and skied from the top. Continuing the theme of scaling volcanoes, Gus and I skied from just over 8,000′ on Mount Rainier’s Paradise Glacier in September. We had now skied eleven consecutive months in the state of Washington; all that remained was October. Enter Mount Baker.

We left Seattle a little before 6 AM on Sunday. After a last minute provisions stop at that one gas station in Maple Falls, we were parked at the trailhead and heading up Baker’s Hogsback by 9:30 AM.

Several times on the hike in we encountered streams sans bridges. While this normally doesn’t present much of a challenge, the cool morning temps caused many of the rocks to be covered in ice.

Just as we neared the base of the glacier one of these streams got the better of me. Crossing required gingerly stepping from one dry rock to another, and finally inching along a slender branch to cross the last few feet. I successfully made it across the water, but my footing on the opposite bank of the stream did not have the traction I assumed. I immediately slipped on the icy granite and landed squarely on my chin. I scrambled to get back on my feet and pull my right leg out of the stream. I felt okay, until I put my hand underneath my chin and took a look at it. Blood. I looked up at Megan, Gus and Tristan and I could tell from the looks on their faces that I did more damage than just a scratch. Megan, a nurse by profession, took a look at the gash and confirmed that I wouldn’t bleed to death. We just needed to stop the bleeding in order for me to continue the ascent. Improvising with a little ice and tissue, I was able to get it under control before applying a bandage. Later I would need 5 stitches to close up the 3 cm cut, but for now it was back to the climb.

After we emerged from tree line we had to find a non-crevassed portion of the glacier to begin skinning. up. The terrain just below the glacier was very slick. We traversed several ridges by sticking to gravel which provided decent traction and avoided slippery surfaces such as granite and brush.

Once we were on snow it was obvious the powder reported a week earlier was not going to be in play. The surface of the snow was a firm, icy, solid yet smooth crust. Surprisingly, skins seemed to grip well and we wasted little time ascending to the Black Buttes.

We transitioned once we reached the Black Buttes at about 7,500 feet. After a little goofing off and grabbing a quick snack, we began our descent down the chattery, icy smooth glacier.

Despite the strange snow, the ski down as incredibly fun. The conditions were fast, smooth and surprisingly grippy. It was almost as if we were skiing mother nature’s version of corduroy. Growing up in Michigan conditioned me to be able to enjoy any type of snow (or lack there of). Taking gates on a sheet of ice isn’t exactly powder skiing, but it’s an experience nonetheless. Compared to those memories, skiing Mount Baker in October was pure joy.

On our descent we missed the terminal of the trail by several hundred yards. Again we found ourselves crossing a few ridges and contending with slippery brush and rocks. In a little under an hour we had located the trail and made it back to the car shortly before dark.

Post Script…

This wasn’t the first time I skied Mount Baker in the off season. In 1994 I took a trip with my family across the United States. We hit Yellowstone, Jasper, Banff, Lake Louise, Wyoming, Montana and ended up in Lynden, Washington. On the Fourth of July we drove to Mount Baker to play around in the snowfields. I brought my skis with me, all the way from Michigan, for this very reason: I wanted to ski in the summer. It is only fitting that I completed my first “Turns All Year” season on the same mountain that I first backcountry skied on 17 summers earlier.

More photos on Flickr. Check out the slideshow below.

I woke up in the dirt and cold at 6 AM on Saturday morning. Despite the fact that I’m not following around Phish, sleeping in parking lots is starting to become a familiar trend. We had every intention of pitching a tent, but when we arrived at the trailhead on Friday night neither Ryan nor I had the urge to monkey around with it. We’d only left a bar in nearby Leavenworth 30 minutes earlier and were ready to just get some sleep. Thinking we’d be just as well off under the stars, we laid out our bags in the parking lot while Doug and Greta pitched a tent. Overlooking the fact that our sleeping bags were covered in a layer of morning frost, the night passed without incident. I stayed squarely on my closed cell foam pad and Thermarest; and my decade old 15 degree Mountain Hardware bag kept me toasty. Climbing out of the bag in 30 degree temps to start hiking 18 miles wasn’t exactly easy, but I suited up anyway. Several minutes later a Subaru full of Gus, Lauren, Justin, Carolyn, Dave and Becky rolled in to join Ryan, Greta Doug and me. The crew was all here now; the only thing left to do was hike from Stuart/Colchuck Lake trailhead to the Snow Lake trailhead. Only 18 miles, Aasgard Pass and 5000′ feet of climbing, a dozen or so lakes and 7500′ of descent separated the two.

The hike started at 7:30 AM at 3,400 feet. The day’s itinerary called for ascending Aasgard Pass (7,800 feet) and working our way through the Enchantment Basin. As we were west of Aasgard Pass and Dragontail Peak, hiking through the morning in the shadow of these features proved chilly. Dave, a resident who had just come off of a shift at the ER, set a quick pace and we progressed to Colchuck Lake efficiently and warmly.

Our route into the Enchantments brought us up Aasgard Pass (officially named Colchuck Pass by the USGS), which lies just to the north of Dragontail Peak and begins at the edge of Colchuck Lake (5,570 feet). The lower elevations of the climb required scrambling through large boulders slippery with frozen dew coating them. Once we ascended several hundred feet, we encountered snow.

Looking to the west from Aasgard Pass features an expansive view of Colchuck Lake and far off Cashmere Mountain. Gus mentioned that Cashmere is supposed to have excellent skiing; I told him that we should probably go find that out for ourselves.

While on Aasgard the sun finally rose above the ridge and we began experiencing what would become perfect weather for our day adventure. After reaching the top of Aasgard in the late morning we could see Lake Colchuck and Cashmere to the west; to the east were the Enchantments.

After a brief break on the summit of Aasgard to transition clothing and break out sun protection, we cruised over to Lake Freya to stop for lunch. It should be noted that like Aasgard Pass itself, most of the lakes in the Enchantments have official USGS names and more familiar local names. Gus, who helped identify the lakes in these photos, explains:

So lake names are tricky, because most of the lakes have a USGS name and a Stark name. The story as I know it is that a couple named the Starks showed up in 1959 and decided to name all the Upper Enchantment lakes after Norse mythology and the Lower Enchantments after King Arthur mythology. Why would they do that? Well, if you think about the timeframe it’s easy to figure out what you’re dealing with here — hippie dorks. Just kidding… partially. So the conundrum is that anyone who got acquainted with the Enchantments in the 60′s and 70′s knows everything by the Stark names, and the new generation seems to know everything by the USGS map. Personally, I lean towards the Stark names because A) they sound cooler and B) Fred Beckey uses the Stark names in his guidebooks and he’s a certifiable badass that basically owns the North Cascades. I’ll let you make your own call here.

This expedition was particularly fun for me as I got to nerd out with a new toy all day: the Olympus Pen E-P3 camera. Although I didn’t mind hauling my Nikon D300 up Rainier, Mount Adams and Rainier again; I was ready to ditch a little weight and bulk. After talking to Scott Rinckenberger about his backcountry kit, combing through internet reviews and nerding out on camera specs; I decided to put the future of my alpine and ski photography in the hands of a micro 4/3 system. So far I am very impressed with the Olympus Pen. The body and 14-150mm lens is a fraction of the size and weight of my D300 and 35mm f/1.8 (my standard kit for Rainier and Adams). Stay tuned for more photos and videos from this rig throughout the winter.

To add to the photo horsepower, Doug (pictured above) brought along his Nikon D7000 and 18-200mm lens. Check out his excellent pictures on SmugMug.

The basin of the Enchantments is flanked by Dragontail Peak, Colchuck Mountain and Little Annapurna. Picturesque hardly describes the perfect October alpine scene which includes lakes mostly unfrozen, fresh snow covering the boulders and blazing orange larches.

We worked our way through several more lakes and descended a couple hundred feet before reaching the most aggressive descent of the trip. The basin empties out very steeply towards the Snow Lakes. The short distance between Lake Viviane and Upper Snow Lake features an aggressive drop of nearly 1400′. Once we reached the Snow Lakes at around 4 PM, it was a long 6 miles back to the car. The forest scenery of the last stretch seems mundane when compared to the stark orange, white and blue of the upper basin. Dark fell with several miles left forcing us to hike out the last switchback via headlamps. I arrived in the Snow Lake trailhead parking lot at 7:30 PM. Twelve hours after we began, the Enchantments in a Day expedition was complete. The ten of us celebrated by changing into dry clothes and enjoying ice cold PBRs. A perfect end to an exceptional October day in the Cascades.

More pictures on Flickr. Or check out the slideshow below.

Gus parked his Subaru in the tiny parking lot about a mile east of the Paradise Inn and Visitor Center at Mount Rainier. It was a familiar routine for the both of us: unloading gear and strapping skis to our backpacks. It’s just a little funny doing it when it is September and the temperature is in the 70s.

We took off from the parking lot around 10 AM on Saturday, September 24, 2011. With skis and ski boots lashed to our backs, we ascended the first few miles via trail.

Conditions at the lower elevations were absolutely summer like. The wildflowers in the alpine meadows of Mount Rainier were in full bloom. We passed a lot of photogs nerding out with tripods and macro lenses who were taking advantage of the excellent weather.

The plan was to take the trail up to the snowfields that lay at the base of the Paradise Glacier. Once on snow, we’d transition from our trail running shoes into ski boots and skin across where possible.

We skinned across the snow field with relatively little elevation gain before encountering a massive rock outcrop. After discussing conditions and optimal routes with a fellow skier on his descent, we learned that crossing the rock field would get us access to the cleanest lines down the Paradise Glacier. With our skis over our shoulders, Gus and maneuvered precariously placed rocks in plastic ski boots before arriving at the base of the glacier.

Now at the base of the Paradise Glacier (6000′), we began touring up the right side. To the south we had an excellent view of the Cascade Mountains and Mount Adams, which was the setting for August’s ski adventure.

The first few hundred vertical feet went pretty easily. The snow was perfect PNW corn: absolutely ripe for skiing. I started to have a few traction issues which were quickly solved with the addition of ski crampons. Weather alternated between blue skies and clouds, but we always had a clear view of Little Tahoma and the summit of Rainier.

The glacier was in good shape save a few gaping crevasses. Fortunately we were able to safely navigate these via serendipitously located snow bridges.

Once we reached 8150′ we decided to transition and begin our descent. Ahead of us was a little over 2000′ feet of prime corn snow skiing. The snow was fast and smooth. It was literally a lot of fun; short of powder, the conditions we encountered would be good for any season.

We returned the same way we came. Others had taken routes to the west to avoid scrambling over the rocks, but it seemed that you gave up a few hundred feet of quality skiing to do so. Plus, retracing our tracks almost ensured we wouldn’t get lost or stuck on a cliff. After skinning across the snow field and a breezy hike down the trail, we were back at the Subaru around 4 PM. September: check.

Flickr set here.

We left pavement and cell phone reception behind long ago. Bombing through winding dirt roads in the backwoods of Mount Adams, Ryan and I chased Tristan’s Subaru Outback with my Volkswagen under the night sky. Unlike Gus’s approach to mountain driving, Tristan seemed to prefer a style closer to Colin McRae. With every dip and compression in the road, a scraping noise resonated through my cabin. “Has to be the mud flaps… those things only have a few inches of clearance,” I told myself. Several dozen miles later the Subaru pulled off to the side of the road with the hazard lights blinking. I pulled up next to Tristan, rolled down the window and called over to see why they stopped.

“Car doesn’t sound good. Something is making a lot of noise.”

After a quick investigation, we determined that a major section of the exhaust had become detached. While none of us are exactly mechanics, having two car loads full of mountaineering gear isn’t exactly the worst situation to be in when faced with designing an ad-hoc automotive repair in the middle of nowhere. Using parts from a BCA shovel, duck tape, rope, a stick and nylon webbing; Tristan and Bobby were able to craft a solution that allowed the Subaru to continue soldiering on.

Despite the unplanned vehicle repair, we arrived at the Cold Springs Trailhead near midnight. I found a place to stash the VW, unrolled my sleeping bag and caught a few hours of sleep under the stars and trees at 5600′. Unfortunately, 4 AM came sooner than I would have preferred. After a few minutes of resisting the inevitable, I was dressed in climbing gear with my skis and ski boots strapped to my back. Saturday, August 13, 2011 would be the day I summit and ski down the second highest peak in Washington. With well over 6000′ feet to reach the 12,310′ summit of Mount Adams, there wasn’t any time to waste.

Gus, Bobby, Ryan, Tristan and I hit the trail a little after 5 AM. Although we began the climb with headlamps blazing, day broke soon and views of Mount Hood and Mount St. Helens framed the early morning hours of the climb.

While not as aggressive as the climb Gus and I accomplished two weeks earlier, this excursion still required a fair amount of gear. We did not need provisions for overnight snow camping, nor did we need harnesses or ropes due to the fact that it is possible to summit Mount Adams without setting foot on a glacier (and thus avoiding crevasses). Still, we brought a stove for melting snow, water purification systems, clothing for a range of temperature conditions, ice axes, hiking shoes, crampons, skins, ski crampons and of course skis, ski boots and poles. Like I did on Mount Rainier, I also strapped my Nikon D300 and 35mm f/1.8 lens to my chest.

After ascending a few hundred feet, our first glimpses of Mount Adams appeared. The thing about mountain climbing is it always looks deceptively easy. “Oh, we just have to get up there? No problem.” From a distance of only a few miles, the snow, rock and ice provide little scale. A massive peak can look relatively attainable. As the day stretches on and hour after hour is spent putting one foot in front of the other, this early notion is quickly scrapped. Climbing mountains is fucking hard.

We reached 9,000 feet sometime around 9 AM. We took a break, shuffled gear around, melted snow for drinking water and got something to eat.

Although we were approximately 50% complete in terms of vertical feet, the second half proved to be more brutal. I changed out of my hiking shoes and put on my alpine ski boots. Originally, I hoped to skin up with skis on. When this proved to give me little traction, I added ski crampons to the mix. After several hundred frustrating vertical feet with this setup, I abandoned the skis and went to straight boot-packing. The road to the top of Mount Adams is a long slog; a snowy staircase that demands every last ounce of your endurance.

Shortly after noon we reached the false summit. When you’re climbing Mount Adams from the south, the summit appears to be 600 feet lower than it actually is. Only when you reach the false summit does the true summit come into view. In other words, when you think you’ve finally arrived, you haven’t. After a quick break we skied over to the base of the true summit and began climbing the last few hundred vertical feet.

Standing on the summit of Mount Adams, I reminded Gus that we’d just climbed the two highest peaks in Washington in two weeks. Whereas the Rainier expedition fulfilled a destiny a decade in the making, the Mount Adams jaunt was thrown together via email only days before the climb. Nonetheless, I was pretty pleased with how my August turned out.

With the summit at our backs, it was time to make the descent. In front of us was 6,000 vertical feet of 30-35 degree pitch and Cascade corn snow. We descended via the Southwest Chutes, which is not the route we climbed but was much better for skiing. Tired and weakened from the climb, we didn’t exactly showcase the best skiing; but it was certainly better than hiking down on foot.

When the snow finally began to run out, we switched back to hiking shoes and traversed the mountain in hopes of finding the trail. We were not exactly sure where the terminal of the Southwest Chutes would take us, but we knew we had to head left. So we went left. Initially we assumed we would find the trail just over a ridge. All we found after the first ridge was another ridge. Okay, keep going left and down. Using GPS and maps, we eventually ran into the trail that would take us back to our initial route. It was now late in the afternoon. The party I had planned to attend in Seattle that night would have to rage on without me. Spotting the car at 7 PM never felt so good. I commented to Ryan that even though we’d just been climbing for a day, it felt like we’d spent a week on that mountain. A Bud heavy tallboy and an hour of packing later, we were back on the road to Seattle.

More photos on Flickr.