Colonial/Pyramid/Snowfield peak area or whatever you want to call it (May 28-31)

The plan was to meet at Jeff's house at 4:30 Friday afternoon, and head for the North Cascades National Park and try to get as far in as possible before nightfall. However, a crazed gunman thwarted our plans. I-5 was closed because of him, and it took Daniel, Bill and Cormac about 2 hours to make their way from the UW campus to Mill Creek (normally about half an hour). We finally left shortly after 6pm.

We got our self-issued permits at the Marblemount ranger station, and headed into the park. Since it was approaching 10pm, we decided to crash at one of the nearby campgrounds and get up really early to start our ascent into the alpine. Driving into the campground, we saw the Picket range appear to the north of us, and it sort of made us freak out. I don't think any of us had even seen the Pickets before, at least not from the road. In the waning light of dusk, they appeared as a jagged black silhouette.

Goodell Ck Campground, Friday night. Sorting the climbing gear, which we intended to haul up 7000 vertical feet for a pitch or two of rock.

The grand plan was to ascend to the gentle Colonial glacier, and from a base camp there, try to bag as many peaks as possible. The highest one is Snowfield Peak, just about 8000ft. There were also some rock spires along the edge of the adjacent Neve Glacier, such as The Horseman, which had some short 5th class routes. From the topo map, the terrain above treeline looked pretty mellow, with the exception of the (hopefully rock) summits themselves, and the initial traverse onto the glacier. It was that initial traverse that had us a bit worried, and we had originally tried to time it so that we'd be crossing it early in the day, in case it looked like it was a pretty avalanche-prone area. The ascent route follows forest for about 4000 vertical feet, then along a ridge, and onto the traverse across Colonial basin to the glacier. However, with our late arrival, we realized that we wouldn't be up on the ridge until around midday at best, and if the traverse looked iffy, we might have to wait until Sunday morning to do it.

We parked our cars at the pullout for the Pyramid Lake trail. We were the only ones there. We'd hoped that access to this place was difficult enough that we'd be able to find solitude on Memorial Day wknd. We began the ascent, with our 70-80 pound packs, under clear early-morning skies. The forecast was calling for sunny skies all three days. Yum.

The suspects at the trailhead 5:30am Saturday morning, with their 70 pound packs: Cormac, Jeff, Daniel, Bill and Phil.

After about 45 minutes of hiking on a nice trail, we decided we had reached the point, where, according to Becky's route description, we were to leave the trail (at a "forest bench") and begin the ascent to the ridge. Unfortunately, descriptions like "ascend to a minor forest bowl" didn't make any sense. Nor did "head for a burn". We were in dense forest and couldn't see anything. What might have been a burn 30 years ago is now forest again. So we just continued up. At some point, I mentioned to Cormac that he'd better secure his water bottle, which was loosely placed in a side pocket on his pack. His system only worked if he was vertical, but the occasional bushwhacking often meant you were crawling horizontally. I think he made a mental note about it, but never did anything.  We crossed a swampy area, then up a brushy ridgeline, and eventually onto a steep well-forested slope where the continuous deep snowcover began (probably around 3000ft). Travel here was fairly straightforward, until we hit a cliff band which we began traversing underneath. It was here that Cormac's only water bottle jumped out of his pack pocket, and scouted down the steep slope. Jeff let out a giggle. Lucky for Cormac, it got caught on a tree a few hundred feet below us. He retrieved it.

Three and a half thousand vertical feet of bushwhacking later, we encounter a short unavoidable snow-covered cliff band in the forest. We wasted about 20 minutes getting everyone up this. Here, both Daniel and Jeff are standing on tree branches.

Once on the ridge-crest,  the terrain flattened out, and we got our first view of Colonial Peak, which rises around six and a half thousand feet in 2 miles from highway 20. 2 days later, on the descent, we would see a large avalanche come down this face.

A fracture line from a slab avalanche stretched all across this slope near the summit.

Further along the ridge, at around 5000ft. Ross Lake, down in the valley, has been partially drained in anticipation for the runoff from this year's huge snowpack.

Seeing how it took us eight hours to each this point, and we were exhausted, we decided to set up camp on the ridge, instead of continuing to the glacier. The traverse onto the glacier was also fairly avalanche-prone, and we'd thought we'd be better crossing it the following morning.

Our camp:

A horsey staring at us.

Big puffy white clouds moved towards us from both the east and the west for most of the day. It was obvious there was some serious precipitation happening just a few miles away, accompanied by thunder. But a sunny spot remained above us until late in the afternoon, despite Bill's warning of the now dark clouds ("They're coming our way"). Eventually though, they did. Cloud banks from both sides met directly above us, and began pelting us with sleet, then snow.

During the day, three more parties arrived on the ridge. They all camped in separate cols though, so we didn't really see them.

The deceivingly nice'n'fluffy clouds coming towards us.

The snow finally made us cook dinner and get settled in for the night.

The next day dawned crystal clear. This is a view looking east to Jack mtn, with cloud-covered Ross Lake in the valley.

Early morning light on Colonial Peak.

About the time we left camp. I think that's Hozomen Mountain off in the rear left.

The traverse onto the Colonial glacier. Cliff bands below, thick chunks of snow perched precariously on steep slabs above. The dots are Cormac and Jeff.

Sunday morning, we safely, but slowly, made it across the traverse, and roped up just before gaining the glacier toe. We walked 10 minutes, found a flat spot and made camp. The sun was out in full force, and it made us lazy. We ate and drank, and took in the views as two other parties passed by in the distance, off to find their summit.

The view toward Paul Bunyan's Stump from our camp on the Colonial glacier. There's another group of 4 climbers near the base of the cliff.

Once the sky went from clear to overcast in the early afternoon, we finally summoned the energy to actually attempt one of the peaks. We didn't feel like any rock ropework at that point, so we settled on trying Colonial Peak.

Halfway up Colonial.

We bailed on the actual summit, due to a steep slushy snow traverse (and the lack of summit fever, prompted by the deteriorating weather). Instead we scrambled to the top of the west ridge, which is just as high.

View south from the west ridge of Colonial.

The way back down...

Our camp is the black dots in the center of the photo.

While cooking dinner that afternoon, I noticed a black thing moving in the snow. An ice worm. Cool! Cormac pointed out another one. Then another one. We stood up, and looked around us. The snow was literally covered with these half inch-long creatures! So was the water in our water bottles, we found out. The worms had all come to the surface to feed in the late afternoon I guess. In some spots, they were probably as dense as a hundred per square foot.

The worms!

With time to kill at camp, we engaged in some extra-curricular activities, such as tarp sliding,

And kite-making.

And we also climbed to the neighbouring ridge and pretended we were mountain gods for a while (except for Bill, who stayed in his tent, experiencing our wrath). The mountains showed us who was really in charge though, as we saw and heard a large chunk of snowpack come crashing down onto the traverse.

That night, the winds picked up, and, after temporary clearing, the weather got much worse.

We "woke up" at 4:30 Monday morning, after a (for me) sleepless night listening to the winds batter the tent. Visibility was bad, the snow hadn't frozen, and it was raining (in addition to the freight train wind). We packed up as fast as we could, and headed back across the traverse, before the wind, rain and rising temperatures weakened the snow any further.

Crossing back to the ridge:

We made our way down the ridge to treeline, and started eating breakfast and melting water for the long descent in the woods. While doing this, a loud avalanche poured off the north flank of Colonial.

For the long forest descent, we took an alternate route, based on suggestions from other climbers. The brush wasn't quite as bad, but the rain became heavier, and the woods were very very wet.

Four or five hours later, Daniel arrives back to highway 20, a sopping wet shadow of his former self.

Relief at being back to civilization lasted for about 30 seconds for me, as we packed up our gear on the edge of the highway, which had a constant stream of noisy RV's barreling down it.

We ate lunch at the Buffalo restaurant, and again at DQ's in Sedro Woolley.