It Gonna Rain!

"The weather in the cascades is actually quite predictable. It is either raining, or just about to." -- Fred Beckey

Especially in Spring. But with the opening of the Highway 20, how can anyone resist going into the Rugged North Cascades? Robert and I certainly couldn't, even thought the forecast called for light rain on Saturday, a light clouds/rain on Sunday and an uncertain forecast for Memorial day. We wanted something that would take three days, with a day of approach. Approaching in light rain won't be that bad, right? So it began a not-quite-epic weekend has led me to a higher appreciation of the term 'water proof'.

We started in light mist, in high spirits.

With not much to slow down our skinning.

The higher we went, the colder, cloudier, and snowier it got.

Easy Pass offered a break for food, grey mistiness.

And enough time to let our imaginations run wild with the sound of liquid rock and snow shooting down the North face across Fisher basin.

So we made a snow pit just to check stability. Minus the slightly slushier top,  meaning we needed to avoid terrain traps, it was pretty bomber. But if it did decide to bomb, we'd be dead.

We quickly traversed to the basin and down the valley as quickly as we could. Once in the trees we were finally at ease.

We navigated the forest, honing our snowshwacking skills. Much more pleasant than bushwhacking...
Just as the mist became heavier we made it to the middle of the valley at the base of Logan. We set camp, sat in the tent, cooking, drinking (a can of Monk's Blood, was part of the fair), and I attempted to dry as much of my wet gear as I could. We slept.

We chose 4am as our wake up, so that we might get an early assault up Logan's flanks, before a barrage of warmer conditions might destabilize the snow. Deee-deep, deee-deep, deee-deep... It was raining as we cracked our eyes, I reset the alarm, desiring more 'sleep'. Deee-deep, deee-deep, deee-deep... Damn! still raining. 15 more minutes of shut eye.

Deee-deep, deee-deep, deee-deep... The rain had stopped! The view outside was a blurry visage of low clouds. It would hopefully be better, we thought. But we needed to get going. We ate, packed, threw on our skis and started moving.

In no more than 30 seconds after moving, the rain came down again. Pretty hard.

"Should we go in the tent?" Robert suggested. "Yes".
Two soggy dogs just out for a swim walked back into camp and into the tent. We were soaked. Trying to keep anything dry was nothing short of impossible. We discussed it, and decided that we had to bail. If it was raining this hard, the snow would not be ideal for ascent or descent, especially on the lower flanks. We waited the rain out, enduring the 35 degree wetness, with my down sleeping bag now holding several cups of accumulated water. Perfect conditions to work on my shivering skills.

Ninety minutes late we arose. The pitter of Cascade weather had ceased. We began our escape. With some difficulty I shoved my soppy rain shell into the top of my pack. "Damn, usually its easier to get it in when its wet."

Ready to leave, the clouds had given way to the weather we had hoped for earlier. Mostly cloudy, with little precip. We took a gander at the base of the mountain that we wanted to climb, and hadn't yet seen.

Both of us, cursed as we saw how close the beautiful giant was to us. We were so close! 

Pining about our pointless effort, we made an escape. The gift of several pounds of water saturating our gear added to our training weight.

Goaded by the occasional rumbled hiss of avalanches pouring off the mountains, we skeezed up the valley.

One of my skin's gave up as we got to the avy fields. Skinning without the defunct skin was the easiest way to move up the ominous valley.

Later than we had intended, we reached the base of easy pass and ascended a well treed area. My only option was to boot it. From unconsolidated sun melted gloop, to firmer snow, I trodded up the hill. I remember thinking that just one week ago I had suggested that a friend slowshoe whislt carrying alpine skis and boots up for a fun descent. What cruel friend I am.

Robert also ascended,  via skis and switch backs with a speed that waned as the sun sapped the structure from the snow. Soon we were both booting it up. Nearly every time we took a pause for breath, another slithering of avalanches could be heard across the way. Natural motivation to get out of harms way. The brilliant view, and our lethargy slowing our way.

Easy pass was not as easy as we had hopped. Neither was the approach to Logan.

We ate a late lunch, and descended the shmutz with our heavy packs.

At the car we lounged in our shirts in mid-60 degree sunshine and cracked the second can of Monk's blood that I hauled up to Logan's base, and back. It was good.

On the return we stopped at Cascadian Farm, to enjoy Raspberry-chocolate chip (don't do it! the chocolate over powers the raspberry).  Driving while dry and cozy in the car, chewing on chocolate sweets. How enjoyable.  Something about this trip in general helped me to realize another reason why I love to endure the mountains: so that I may more thoroughly appreciate the simplicities of normal life.