……it’s easy to discover corners of Washington’s Glacier Peak Wilderness I’ve ignored.
………..reminds me of the ancient proverb that purports, “…an old broom knows the corners best.”
As I’ve gotten older, I’ve been led to the mountains that my younger self ignored. What I find has rekindled my excitement, the kind of excitement I enjoyed seeing those first Cascadian vistas while I stared into the distance and wondered, “What peak is that?”
This wasn’t the case with Glacier Peak. I’d been to her summit many times but, look to her southwest and there exists a string of mountains that few people explore. Climbers have long ago traversed them, connecting these peaks in a route called the Painted Traverse.
It was during a month long powder hunting mission in Japan when Jeff brought up the Painted Traverse. His excitement was infectious and together we wholeheartedly agreed that we’d ski the route at our earliest convenience. After only two weeks home, Jeff and I set off. Great February weather was forecasted and KAVU days lay ahead.
Fleshing out our crew, we added a third member to our group – 20 year old splitboarder Rowan Stewart. His spark of youthful exuberance lit a fire under us ‘old men’.
…….I arrived at the top to join Jeff. Together we gazed at Mt. DaKobed. Between us, we had 12 summits of her and Rowan had none. We couldn’t blame him for wanting to experience the views she offered.
Snow fell away from the topmost cornice, splattering down the mountain as we skied to the edge of the North Face. Controlled turns led us to easier ground. Only then did our heartbeats moderate, shuddering to normal speeds. When the sun winked out, the shadows preyed on the light. They hunted in stealth until they converged and leaped. Within seconds, only darkness remained.
Back at camp, we packed our gear and set off. A few great descents beyond capitalized our remaining thrill. Just before the sun dove behind nearby peaks, we strode exhausted into camp on the White Chuck Glacier.
On our fourth morning, still tired, I slipped into ice encrusted boots and stood on rock hard snow. “Oh man,” I grumbled, “this is going to suck.” Certainly not the climbing nor the views, just the skiing. It was incredibly icy. The snow shone in the sunlight, glistening and the wind pulsed and circled around us like a war party.
On the summit, our boots pounded out the final few steps. From our earned vantage we could see our last 4 days stretched out in front of us. “It doesn’t seem so far,” I thought. It had indeed been far, but in the vastness that stretched out before me, it was a drop in the bucket.
Leaving one of my favorite mountain ranges is never easy. But our skis allowed us to fly when compared to our ascents. Terrain that took hours to climb passed by in seconds. Wind whipped past us and before long, we were at snows end. Along the way we added a summit of White Mountain, which was truly living up to her name. That whiteout from the day before was still in full effect. We couldn’t see a thing, not until we dropped into the wet valleys. Above hung that heavy cloud like the head on a beer just poured from the tap, which reminded me of the beer waiting for me at the car. I pushed down the trail even faster. It had been a grand adventure!
For a more complete report on this trip and more, check out: http://www.myadventurecrusade.com/2015/09/16/the-painted-traverse/
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