Category: Washington

Where not to go on a Weekend in the Baker Backcountry

11/28/2018

When it rains it pours but when it snows it dumps. First the rain drives people away but for those willing to stay around get to see that when it snows it dumps. This is what draws folks in to shredding the Mount Baker Backcountry. Sometimes prime conditions show up on weekdays, providing deep snow, gray bird visibility, and mild crowds. Other times the best opportunity maybe on the weekend when there is time off work or friends are available to rip. When it’s prime, the low hanging fruit of the Table Mountain Zone is irresistible and the feeding frenzy of a weekend back country pow day ensues. In order to make the most of your time this is where not to go on a weekend in the Baker Backcountry.

The first place not to go on a weekend in the Baker Backcountry is the short vertical, easy to access Swift Creek Zone. The headwater of the North Fork of Swift Creek is a good place to learn skinning technique, practice companion rescue, or try out a new touring partner with low commitment. There are many mellow slopes but also steep avalanche paths with consequential terrain traps. So, if you’re looking for long runs, avoiding crowds of avalanche courses, or just want to sample what Baker has, then avoid this area on the weekend.
Blueberry Chute, Blueberry Cornice, Blueberry is the mystic zone that forms the ridge running from Martha’s Ladder to Table Mountain. For several years I asked friends, family, visitors, and loc dawgs

“what does Blueberry mean to you?” And if I could summarize the responses it goes something like, “that bowl, that chute, that cornice” while pointing in the direction of Artist Point. So, for the sake of this description I’ll refer to Blueberry Chute as the relatively moderate bowl on the skiers right end of the giant cornice along the ridge below Artist Point. Vague enough… Consequently, this is a go-to line for anyone from Heather Meadows or the ski area looking to get low investment turns. Subsequently, on a pow day there is a lot of traffic and you can expect to have people dropping in on top of you. This slope has been the scene of many avalanche burials over the years and during poor avalanche conditions this slope has run the entire 750 vertical feet to the lake. When the ski area is tracked, and you want some freshies don’t go to the chop and bumps you are likely to find on a weekend in Blueberry Chute.

So, you did it anyway and dropped down Blueberry or better yet you rode down Dog Chute to the lake and found yourself looking up at Table Mountain. The power of big terrain soars overhead as you get tunnel vision staring at the beautiful Newts Chute, Newts Apron, and Little AK. A quick transition and now you’re skinning back up. Meanwhile rippers are dropping 40 mph big mountain turns, spraying snow into the air, as they careen towards you. For a moment the thoughts, “I hope this doesn’t slide on me” or “please don’t hit me” pass through your mind. Instead of skinning out and around near the

ski area boundary you decided to zig zag a zipper skin line back up underneath these big lines. If pow days, steep terrain, and fun with friends is your bag then this is another place not to go on a week end in the Baker Backcountry.
A great tour is heading out to Herman Saddle or Iceberg Lakes. Often times there is a track dropping out of the parking lot towards lower Bagley Lake. This area is a hive of activity, but be diligent, you are traveling underneath overhead hazard. You start to see the flying bodies of the bros and brahs that chuck their carcasses into the air off big booters below Grandmas House. Sledding kids shoot out of the trees with beanies over their eyes as they slide into their run out on the lake. And finally, the big avalanche paths of Mount Herman that crash down the Boulder Field, into the gulley, and onto the lakes creating dangerous terrain traps are places not to go on a weekend in the Baker Backcountry.

There are numerous reasons to venture into the Mount Baker Backcountry. From big lines, to booters, to snowshoeing and sled riding this winter time playground is fun for all. There are guide books, online forums, and local knowledge that can tell you where to go. But on your next weekend off, during the next powder frenzy, when the low hanging fruit looks ripe hopefully where not to go on a weekend in the Baker Backcountry will help make your next visit a little less rotten.

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Solo of Mount Index

3/23/2017

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After returning from a rock climbing trip in Squamish British Columbia, the opportunity for a big solo outing presented itself. All of my potential partners were occupied in one way or another so I started to search for possible objectives.
Eventually I found the perfect 3 day route that would allow me to set up a base camp on the first day, make an attempt on Mount Maude and Seven Fingered Jack on the second day, then on the third day hike out. It was a perfect plan and the chances of summiting both peaks were good. The night before my departure, I drove to the trailhead to spend the night where almost 20 miles from the trailhead, I was stopped by a closed gate. This was very unexpected and decided it wasn't worth the walk.

Road to Index

It was a huge disappointment and I was having trouble figuring out what to climb instead. After a lot of thought I decided on a rugged and seemingly rarely climbed peak that towers over the Stevens Pass Highway, Mount Index. Since I was close to the trail head I drove up Forest Road 62 to find a gate closing off that road as well. This closure would mean ridiculously high miles of road just to get to my objective. Instead I decided to try a different route. Miraculously the road to the next trail head was open. So I cooked some breakfast and read about route options.
One of the appealing things about Mount Index is there is almost no info on this route, no mile marker, or any indication of technical difficulty other than a line in the guidebook. Because of this a true wilderness adventure awaits anyone who dares to go out there. It looked reasonable for a single day attempt so I packed a bag and I was off.
Rain pummeled through the trees, splashing into puddles, trickling into streams, as I meandered along a well trampled trail. The travel was quick, easy and beautiful. Passing many waterfalls, I met many day hikers in spite of the crazy amount of rain coming down. As I gained elevation I learned from others who were descending that Lake Serene was 4 miles up trail. Continuing uphill, the rain lessened and any chance of viewing my route was blocked by a thick fog that enveloped me. I left the trail and traversed through tangled brush to the only distinguishable land mark, a large talus slope.

Foggy Trail

Lake Serene

West Ridge

Progress up the talus was quick but then slowed once I reached more vegetation. Eventually I scrambled to a point where the brush gave way to rock. Climbing in mountaineering boots, up steep mostly solid moss covered rock, water poured over me. Soaked to the bone I was careful to make sure my boots had purchase before moving to another hand hold. After doing this for far too long I reached a point where climbing any further would be a commitment to the top. Since I could not down climb what I had to go up it was not safe for me to continue so I decided to descend.
Reversing the route was tedious but manageable and just for a moment the storm cleared and a view emerged of what I was climbing. To continue on would have been over my head and with no question or regret I made my way back to the car to re-strategize. The outcome of my attempts left me frustrated but not defeated. I decided to attempt Index again from another route that I knew a little more about. So I drove over to the closure at Forest Road 62 and packed for the next day. The road closure on FR62 is 100 feet off Highway 2 at about 500 feet above sea level. The summit of Mount Index is at 6,005 feet making it quite prominent. The description for the dirt road, one that I would get to know so well, mentioned two forks in the road and said the route was obvious. It also said I would be on the road for about 11 miles to the fork where I break off to begin the route. On June 25 at 8 a.m. I began the long walk in sneakers with my mountaineering boots packed in my relatively light backpack.
The first part of the road went well until I got to a fork about 3 miles in. The map said to go left but it didn't feel like the right direction. Understanding the consequences, I went right, walked down hill which brought me to some turns in the road that were not on the map. Unsure of myself I continued along the road this ever present feeling is one I would get to know on this climb. Contrary to the route information I followed my gut. Miles and several undocumented forks later I was relieved to find a landmark that told me I was on track, the Weyerhaeuser Gate.

Weyehaeuser Gate

At a quick pace I passed the gate and hiked up the road until I finally arrived at the last fork before the old logging road. Not knowing when I would get to refill some water, I stopped, mixed some Aquamira and waited to purify my water when I was startled to hear voices behind me.
I spun around and saw two people walking towards me, immediately apprehensive, one of them waived at me in a way that I could tell he was friendly. I waved back energetically, to show I was a good guy too. Backcountry interpersonal communication!
Come to find out the two were John and Lisa. John was working with the forest service and logging companies and had keys to all the gates. While surveying for endangered species he hit a boulder in the road and drained his vehicle of all its transmission fluid. They spent the night in their vehicle and were walking out today. They were unsure of the best way to get out and although they had a map, it was not very detailed. They would have been able to figure it out, but just to be sure I wrote down some directions for them. After laughing together at the situation we parted ways en route to our own adventures.

Trail Road

From there several large downed trees blocked the road at least it correlated with the maps and descriptions. At 3,000 feet there was a large portion of the road that was washed out by a river coming down the mountain side, thankfully it was easy to cross.
After the washout, the "road" changed a lot. Accordingly, I switched into mountaineering boots. After a quarter mile it became so densely vegetated that I could not see the ground or the sky at times. Long periods of thrutching through branches for the next three switchbacks of the road didn't even let me touch the ground.
At times I wasn't even sure if I was on the road until I figured out a trick. I would climb to the top of the brush, survey my surroundings, and see different vegetation growing on either side of the road. With that I was able to follow the road with relative ease and peace of mind.
Due to all the rain and lack of wind or sun for the last few days the bushwhacking was exhausting. There was water on all of the plants and I was soaking wet while constantly groveling through the shrubs. Knowing I would have trouble drying my cloths later, I stayed in a t-shirt, hiking pants and rain pants. The rest of my cloths stayed mostly dry in my pack. Following the road and my compass to assure the correct route this battle continued for hours.

Damp Camp

The description said "go to the roads end" and then go northeast up timbered slopes. When I got to a huge waterfall I wasn't sure if the road had actually ended. The maps and guidebook didn't say anything about it so if this was a new washout it had happened since the guidebook was written. After 9 hours on the move I decided that it was indeed the end of the road so I set up camp. I made several attempts to dry my cloths, but to no avail. They were drenched and I shuddered at the thought of putting them on in the morning. As the day ended I warmed with a delicious meal of dehydrated chili mac and crawled into my rocky and uneven tent for the night, at least it was dry.
In the morning I slept in, my hope was that the improving weather would be warm enough for me to put on my wet clothing with less misery, but I was wrong. I drank a bunch of hot water to raise my body temperature and wriggled into the wet freezing clothing. Immediately I started doing jumping jacks to warm up.
I didn't want to wander through the jungle looking for my stuff so I packed up the remainder of my gear. With everything shouldered into my pack I followed my compass northeast through the sopping wet vegetation. The jungle was just as dense as the road was, except now it was steeper and had a lot more sharp plants. I stayed northeast, skirted some cliffs to the east but continued until I got cliffed out. The idea was to find a broad bench at 4,700 feet that would grant access to the upper mountain.

Toe of the Bench Buttress

Then the first miracle of the trip happened when I popped out of the thick brush about 50 feet to the left of this bench. It was the only feature like that around. Pleasantly surprised at the rocky and comfortable bench I decided to take a short rest.
According to the maps and guide there were 3 options from here. Option one was to climb class 3 rock directly above the bench to gain the west ridge and follow it to the summit. Option two was a gully just south of the headwall (which in reality was downhill in the opposite direction) or option three which was another gully even farther south that was the longest but reportedly the easiest. The rock in front of me was definitely harder than 3rd class and neither of the gully options made sense. I decided to follow what looked like the best route and continue northeast up a gully. Once again the gully was very steep and densely vegetated. I used my ice axe to swing into the mud and grass and use my free hand to pull up on branches. I call this class 5 bush whacking!
I scrambled up onto a saddle with a little snow on it and rested for a bit. Then continued east up the only obvious option. A forested ridge that was not too steep or overgrown. I followed this ridge uphill until cresting a saddle. Here I thought I would be within a stones throw of the summit instead I was greeted with an incredible view of a huge basin. A glacial melt stream flowed through the center with snowfields surrounding, and feeding it as the bright sun melted the snow. At the far side of the basin was the bulging crown that was the summit of Mt Index, it seemed very far away.

Ridgeline to Summit

At first I tried to traverse a ridge around the north side of the basin in hopes of not having to lose much elevation but I ended up getting cliffed out. I retraced my steps back up the ridge and scoped out a new route through the basin. I began descending, getting cliffed out numerous times and eventually found a mountain goat track to follow that led me up the path of least resistance to the creek at the bottom of the basin. I took a nice rest and refilled some water then began working my way up a rocky drainage coming from one of the upper snowfields. At this point the route finding was relatively strait forward and I was making good time. It was easy to travel through the upper snowfield and into a gully where the bottom half was filled in with snow. The upper half was terribly loose talus but I didn't care, at least it wasn't bushwhacking!
I continued to move quickly through easy terrain until I reached a small saddle where I had some route options. Now I saw the snow traverse that I had read about and it looked as scary and dangerous as everyone said. So I opted, instead, for a steep mud gully with the occasional rock or branch for purchase rather than a muddy ice axe. Although it was a short crux, only about 50 feet tall, it had striking exposure, it had my full attention.
From the top of the gully I was relieved to see gentle snow slopes trending uphill towards the summit. I hiked and enjoyed my last few steps to the top of this very special mountain. The summit was lofty but comfortable. The views were outstanding. I saw all of Washington's highest peaks, including Mt Rainier which dominated the skyline to the south. The air felt crisp and warm, it was a still day in this wild place. There was a kind of silence that you can only "hear" when you are alone. It seemed like the world revolved around this point.

Index Snowbowl and Mount Rainier

The North Cascades!

With a full understanding of the grueling descent ahead, I only stayed about 10 minutes. I was concerned about getting lost in the brush on the way down. I reversed my way back to the bottom of the basin and up the other side, and although it was a pain, it was without any trouble.
From there the biggest miracle of the trip happened, I found my EXACT path of ascent all the way down to where my camp site had been. I recognized this the entire way and was thrilled. It was still challenging to find the route and there were a few times that I got off track but I quickly retraced my steps and found my way.
Once back at the logging road I could breathe again. The worst of the route finding was over and now all I had to do was the horrid bushwhacking down the road. It wasn't totally dry this time but definitely better than the last time. I crossed the washed out road at 3,000 feet and knew that it was time to just shut up and suffer. Ahead of me was a long boring road hike, at least I had two pairs of shoes.
Around 8:00 p.m. I was almost to the trail head when John came speeding around the corner in his red Ford, as he passed he yelled "flag Lisa down she'll pick you up" I laughed, and knowing I was close, ran the remainder of the road.
One last miracle was the perfect finale of the trip. Upon arrival at the trail head, John rewarded me with an ice cold beer! I was so grateful for that beer and it stands out as one of the best I've ever had. Lisa came in a different vehicle shortly after. John explained that he had just enough fluid to put in the car to drive it out as it drained, hence the rush as he passed me. We passed time drinking some beers and talking about our adventures over the last few days. I was really happy to have met them and I look forward to hanging out with them in the future. After cooking some dinner I headed back to Leavenworth for a good nights sleep next to the soothing sounds of the Wenatchee River. I was too tired to clean up the mess I had made in the car while packing for the climb, instead I just crawled into bed and fell asleep thinking about the wild mountains of the Cascade Range.

Author: Paul Barish
Instagram: @paul_barish

After leaving the sunny sandy beaches of south Florida Paul set his sights on the highest mountain town in the United States, Leadville Colorado. Here he completed an Outdoor Recreation Leadership Degree at Colorado Mountain College and at the same time developed a pasion for suffering to the summit. When he's not bagging winter 14er solos Paul can be found thawing out on dry rocks with good friends.

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Mount Baker North Ridge in a Day

1/6/2017

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The North Ridge archs in the overhead morning sun

The North Ridge of Mount Baker is one of the most sought after climbs in the Cascade Mountain Range, as well as one of North Americas 50 classic climbs. Jere had been working a lot on Baker and always had a lot of interest in climbing the route. I had never climbed this stunning volcano before but I always wanted to. When our schedules lined up on June 29 we took full advantage of a beautiful weather forecast, drove to the trailhead, and prepared for a car to car attempt.

Four hours of sleep treated me pretty well although I really wanted more. For breakfast I ate a cold can of chili, some pre rolled cheese/salami sticks, and a few bites from a slice of cherry pie, a strange assortment from my cooler. Having packed the night before I grabbed my pack and we were hiking at 3:01a.m.
As we broke tree line at 4:30 a.m. the horizon was already bright enough that we turned off our headlamps and got our first views of the mountain in the beautifully clear sky. It stood proud and alone, nothing challenged its height. At 10,781 feet, Mount Baker is not a very high mountain but considering the fact that you begin the climb from about 3,600 feet, it makes for a long day.
We hiked past a field of climber tents and traversed snow slopes towards the Coleman

Morning light on the North Ridge

Glacier. There are many significant crevasses on the Coleman so we periodically moved our two man rope team en echelon to mitigate the falling hazard. Eventually we crossed the crevassed section of the glacier, reached the toe of the North Ridge, and put the rope away to move more effectively up some steep snow slopes.
There were a lot of buckets kicked into the slopes from other parties attempting this famous route. Ahead of us a party of three were making their way to the base of the North Ridge so we kept our distance and gave them space. I would have preferred no signs of humans but it did make the travel much easier.
From a break spot on the rocks, we scoped out the technical crux of the route. A 200 foot ice cliff blocks easy access to the upper ridge. The difficulty of the climb varies greatly due to conditions but it's generally called AI3. As I nervously prepared to lead the crux first pitch of the route I remained focused.

Jere on the Coleman Glacier Above the Sound

Paul Soloing while Colfax Looms

Finally I set off over the initial steep step climbing above a snow picket anchor. The ice was firm and in the shade but not too hard. I placed one of my eight screws, swung my tools over the arête, and made sure to get solid stances to save my energy. Without the benefit of a solid freeze the night before the ice on this side of the ridge had been in the sun all morning and was beginning to turn to slush. I felt insecure as I swung my tools feeling for a confidence inspiring stick into real ice. Now it was time to place another screw, so I chopped away at rotten snow and ice to get reliable protection into anything solid. Gradually the angle steepened and the chopping became exhausting but it had to be done. Even though I was scared I effectively and carefully moved, I kept my head straight, I totally focused, I was in flow.
Towards the top of pitch 1 the climbing was even slushier. I ran it out for 50 feet from my last screw instead of using the energy to place marginal protection. My confidence soared knowing I wouldn't fall and decided to just climb. We were climbing with a 40 meter rope and knew I was getting close to the end. Just then I felt the rope tug and knew that it was Jere and I was out of rope. But I was so close to a solid ice ledge to set up a belay. Quickly I placed my last screw, saving two others for an anchor. At the same time Jere disassembled the picket anchor and climbed up a little while not being in a strained position. He did a damn good job and gave me just enough rope to work with. Outstretched as far as I could, reaching way out in front of me, I placed two screws and equalized them with a dyneema double runner. I was so close but didn't have enough rope to put Jere on belay. So I extended the master point with a basket just enough that I could put the rope through my ATC guide. Once Jere was on belay he climbed enough to give me the slack I needed to clove hitch myself into the anchor. It was good teamwork. Jere cruised the pitch, thoroughly enjoying it the whole way. I could not stop smiling.

Paul Leading the 1st Pitch

Jere Following the 1st Pitch

Paul Leading out for the 2nd Pitch

Jere Gaining the Steep Upper Face

We flipped the rope and I set out on the next pitch expecting it to be much easier. Luckily I was correct! After an easy snow traverse I placed another screw in pristine, thick, blue glacial ice, the first such ice on the route. After that I pulled a bulge out to the right onto easy steep snow, climbed for about 10 meters, and kicked out a platform. Here I built a two deadman anchor with a snow picket and one of my ice tools. Jere followed the short pitch and then we were committed to the summit. Next we unroped and soloed for several hundred feet up moderate to steep snow, over snow bridged bergschrunds, and past a looming serac. The climbing was fun and the exposure was terrific!
Once on the summit ice cap we had a wet, slushy, difficult but short walk, a small price to pay for having beautiful and sunny weather. We spent just long enough on the summit to refuel, snap some pictures, and transition to get ready to glissade.

Paul on the Summit of Mount Baker

We descended the summit snowfield towards the Roman Wall where we were able to glissade down the Deming Glacier, along the pumice ridge, to the 9,000' saddle, and the Coleman Glacier. Baking in the sun we roped up, crossed the glacier through heavily crevassed terrain, and back to the campsites to repack and refuel for the hike back to the cars. The trail that was so quite this morning was now teeming with loud hikers. Good conversation with each other quickly brought us to the trailhead. We were ecstatic to be able to climb such a magnificent route in good style. Overall it took around 14 and a half hours car to car, which is not bad at all.
At the end of the day, the North Ridge of Mount Baker stands true as one of the best alpine climbs around. It was a great experience for my first time on Mount Baker and I look forward to coming back to repeat this route and likely try some others as well.

Author: Paul Barish
Instagram: @paul_barish

This is Paul's first contribution to Guided Exposure and we look forward to more stories from his adventures. After leaving the sunny sandy beaches of south Florida Paul set his sights on the highest mountain town in the United States, Leadville Colorado. Here he completed an Outdoor Recreation Leadership Degree at Colorado Mountain College and at the same time developed a pasion for suffering to the summit. When he's not bagging winter 14er solos Paul can be found thawing out on dry rocks with good friends.

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Splitboard Courses in the Cascades with Deep La Nina Pow!

12/9/2016

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Skin Track in the North Cascades

It is with great excitement that we are now offering splitboard courses in the Central Cascades! We have partnered with Pro Guiding Service conveniently located in North Bend Washington at the base of Snoqualmie Pass. The intro to splitboard courses will have two fantastic locations and offer either 1 day or 3 day instruction in a 4:1 group setting. We can also arrange private instruction outside of the scheduled dates.

Getting to the Goods in the Storm

During the 1 day course you will be introduced to the skills necessary to move through the mountains on a splitboard. Eager first timers and never evers will go from timid to confident, while experienced splitters will go from confident to competent.
The 3 day course is where movement skills get hard wired and well thought out backcountry tours are developed. After these 3 days you will be able to fill day after day, season after season with deep soft powder snow.
Our 1 day and 3 day courses are offered at two different backcountry venues. Our first course of the season will be held at Alpental on Snoqualmie Pass. This area offers easy access from Seattle and Sea-Tac International Airport as well as the east side of the Cascades. In addition, we have a 1 day and 3 day course at Crystal Mountain. This classic mountain delivers with great access, large vertical, high elevations while soaking in the incredible views of Mount Rainer.
Both the 1 day and 3 day courses are a 4:1 ratio meaning each participant will receive ample individual attention. In this way everyone will benefit from their time in the field. Even better get your entire crew together and build a breakthrough team dynamic that will be prepared to track out your favorite zones!

Click the buttons below to choose one of our weekend courses.
Or contact Guided Exposure directly to schedule a private day.

   1 day 3 day
Alpental          January 7th                               February 24th-26th

Crystal   February 11th January 20th-22nd

Click for 1 Day

Click for 3 Day

Digging Deep in Cold La Nina Pow!

Stoked to be Sharing the Split Love!

Bring the whole crew!

The Stoke is High While Splitting!

The Best Powder Tool Ever Created!

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The Watson Traverse

5/8/2016

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Mount Baker from the Coleman Glacier

Daniel Skinning up the Coleman Glacier

Green ferns wave and tree leaves flutter overhead the spring cloverleaf and cherry tree flowers have bloomed. Along the green flow of the Nooksack River the sunlight reflects in calm pools, off babbling flumes, and over cascading waterfalls. Punching the gas, Daniel and I accelerate uphill past snowmelt fed curbside creeks and old growth deadfall dripping in moss. We pass the White Salmon base area and in March the walls of snow were 15 feet high but as we continue above 4,000' the walls are now 5 feet high and there is much less snow than I thought there would be. Last month I was in Colorado where they clearly are a month or two behind and when I left we were getting regular 14” dumps of snow. But here in the North Cascades passing Picture Lake, the Mountaineers Baker Lodge, and chair 1 to park at Heather Meadows it is warm, sunny and by maritime standards dry. At this point we are committed to our trip by dropping off our shuttle vehicle at the end of the Watson Traverse.
This 17 mile traverse was originally done on a day in 1939 by Dwight Watson, Erik Larson and Andy Hennig (http://alpenglow.org/skiing/baker-2004/index.html). When they pioneered this route they started low in the valley near Glacier Washington. Now we have the privilege of driving 8 miles up Glacier Creek Road to the trailhead at 3,600’.

Skinning Under the Morning Sun

At the Heliotrope Ridge trailhead a few cars were in the parking area, but as afternoon wore on to evening the lot slowly filled with ambitious climbers. One of them would be our 3rd team member Jack and eventually later that night Carl, our fourth team member had arrived. By the time we shouldered our packs at 5 a.m. Saturday morning there were dozens of climbers and skiers booting up the Heliotrope Ridge Trail. Meter deep patches of firm snow slowly melt into puddles and muddy trails lead us through the first switchbacks. The four of us continued boot packing up to the Hogs Back camp with splitboards and skis on our packs. By this time we had caught several groups that started earlier than us and we all gravy trained to 5,400’. Gradually the rosy hues of sunrise filtered onto the summit ice cap of Mount Baker. At the same time we put our splitters and mr. chomps to work and skinned onto the Coleman Glacier. Below the looming and ominous black buttes, Lincoln and Colfax, up to the 9,000’ Coleman-Deming saddle our exquisite contours, allowed us to avoid numerous crevasses while we effortlessly passed many groups. After a several hours of causal skinning we reached the saddle, took a break, and reviewed crampon and ice axe use. As we exited the lower angle slopes of the Coleman Glacier and entered the steeper frozen snow slopes of the Deming Glacier we developed great crampon foot work with ski poles in hand eventually trading those for ice axes for our final 1,700’ push up the Roman Wall.

Jere and Carl Heading Up the Roman Wall

Onto the wind buffed and iced ridge line above the crevasses of the Deming Glacier, across from the conga line of climbers on the Easton Glacier Route, under a sunny rainbow colored halo, we duck stepped then crossover stepped while gazing up at the Roman Wall. Near the top the angle eased and we made our last few steps onto the enormous summit ice cap. Finally on top we relaxed with lunch, conversation and accomplishment. After a short break we wandered over to the 10,781’ Grant Summit, soaked in the views of Shuksan, Takobia, and Tahoma then headed back towards the Roman Wall. At this point we said goodbye to Jack and Carl since they were descending back to the trailhead via the Deming and Coleman Glaciers. As for Daniel and I we would stay the night atop Komo Kulshan and descend the Park Glacier in the morning.
Soft swooshing grains of snow and crisp ice crystals pattered against the tent as they tumbled south across Komo's vast ice cap. The wall of snow on the windward side of the tent deflected prevailing winds creating fluted drifts and small piles under the vestibule. The immense brisk alpine darkness fell away to broken scattered islands of pulsing artificial light far below. Bellingham, Everett, Seattle, Vancouver indistinctly melt away into the lowlands as warm rosy and orange hues spread across the cool black, blue, and violet pre dawn sky. A night spent high above the Pacific Coast overlooking the Puget Sound, Straight of Juan De Fuca, Straight of Georgia, the Salish sea gazing upon the Olympic Peninsula, Vancouver and the San Juan Islands felt like observing a newly discovered civilization while in orbit.

On the 9,000' Saddle

First thing in the morning we ventured out to observe current conditions. I wandered over and peered down on the Park Headwall. It had been wind scoured down to hard melt freeze crust mixed with pockets of drift that hung over gaping bergschrunds and crevasses. Looking over at the original party's descent route, the Cockscomb, hanging snow fields fell off into giant open holes, a maze of snow bridges covertly could provide passage to those willing to hang it out there. That's when it became clear that the skiers right line on the Park Headwall entrance was dirty and the Cockscomb entrance was filthy. Safe passage on either route would have been at least contrived and at most dangerous, despairing, or deadly.
The forecast for our descent was a bit warmer than the day before. Since we anticipated snow conditions to soften our camp was packed, harnesses were racked, splitters assembled and we were strapped in ready to descend off the 10781’ summit by 10 a.m. Embarking down the most reasonable entrance onto the Park, we found enough softened snow on the upper Boulder Glacier to slide a turn, to edge, to maintain control during our onsight of the Watson Traverse. Down the summit cone with ice axes in hand, following along the summit cliffs we slowly slid turns on sun kissed snow south east for 600' until a passage north would grant us access through crumbling volcanic scoria. Along the rock ridge separating the Boulder from the Park, across the first snow bridge, over a concealed crevasse at about 9,900’, the snow varied from sun softened to wind buffed dust to coarser hard packed melt freeze crust. Even though traversing further left would have linked in directly below the dirty right line on the Park Headwall we aligned above our next landmark simply dubbed "the bulge." This next section of ridge divided the glaciers and lead us down a moderate ramp for the next 700’. Next we continued on the south side margin avoiding a series of big holes. Then far above the Park Cliffs and lower ice falls we previously identified snow bridges at 9,200’ that would lead left and take us across the dished out center of the Park Glacier towards our next landmark the blue ice block. Traversing mid glacier, below the headwall, under hanging seracs, across ramps, bridges, and slopes we ended up slightly lower than anticipated. So we boot packed 25 yards above the blue ice block as we were soaked with an overwhelmed feeling of admittance into this colossal landscape.

Daniel on the Park Glacier

Making Turns on the Upper Park

Jere on the Short Boot Pack of the Lower Park Glacier

Once we reached the lower Park directly below the Cockscomb we cruised turns down 2,100’ of moderate slopes, weaving a path among frozen trap doors, on snow that was like sun softened butter, a popsicle left in the fridge, like an almost frozen beer slushy that’s just soft enough to slurp out of the can. Surfing down to a prominent black rock horn at 7,000’ we exited from the Park Glacier and continued our descent north east another 1,300’ below Portal South onto the Rainbow Glacier at 5,700’. A single complex descent included fall line turns on hard pack to corn snow, ice axe plunging traverses over snow bridges and crevasses, a short kickable boot pack next to the house sized blue ice block. Weaving, slashing, buttering, axe spike dragging turns on a never ending glacier took us down nearly 5,200’ from the Grant summit into the Portals. Congratulatory hoots and hollers exuded between sun drenched ear to ear grins. Feeling the beating afternoon heat we transitioned to split mode, and began our sweaty one hour ascent to the pass in between Portals West and East. Meandering along Ptarmigan Ridge we descended the Sholes Glacier in split mode, climbed 800’ up to point 6,332’ at the headwaters of Wells Creek where we had lunch and melted snow for water.
An alternative in great conditions would be to stop where the Park, Rainbow and Mazama Glaciers intersect and climb over Portal South to Portal West then descend the Sholes glacier for a 1300’ run. This adds a fair amount of ascent but the reward is another great run.

Splitting Under the Portal East

By this time the snow had softened to sloppy slurp slush on a firm frozen bed surface which made good turns but also focused and deliberate skinning. Another 1,300’ run down smooth corn, through a short rock chute, over roller slopes, under Lasiocarpa Ridge and the sentinel Coleman Pinnacle, took us into the Wells Creek drainage. The next couple of hours we were like bouncing human sing along balls while traversing in split mode below Ptarmigan Ridge, up to the Table Mountain Pass, under South Table, across Artist Point, over rolling humps of snow, next to the deeply buried summer road, back into the closed ski area, down old groomed trails, split skating with out skins, along flat trails, past families, hikers, snowshoers, finally we arrived at Heather Meadows.
A buzz of activity at the parking lot greeted us. Daniel and I traded our heightened mountain senses for relaxation accompanied by cold Washington ciders and beers. The Watson Traverse took us 2 moderate days covering approximately 17 miles with one of our runs descending nearly 5,200'. This is truly a classic repeatable ski traverse over a legendary Cascade Volcano in one of the best split boarding zones anywhere.

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@Guided_Exposure
@DanielFrohman

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Make the pilgrimage to a mecca of backcountry big lines, Mount Baker

11/30/2015

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Through out November winter storms have been rolling across the western United States leaving deep blankets of snow across all mountain regions. The parched Sierra is reveling in good early season snow conditions, as the San Juans in Colorado have been reaping the outcomes of “El Gordo” the pet name of this years persisting El Nino pattern.
In the Northwest there has been a steady stream of precipitation. Fortunately the Mount Baker region has been on the cold side of this flow. According to the Heather Meadows Telemetry which is 4,210 feet above sea level there is a 34” base and on Pan Dome which is at about 5,000 feet the base is at 60”. These measurements are from with in the ski area, a small sample of what is really out there.
As the winter's snowpack builds I start getting anxious about my annual pilgrimage to the classic zones near Mount Baker, such as the Bagley Lake Cirque. On any given day this zone holds more easy to access world class riding than anywhere else. Even though from the parking lot, many tracks are visible, its important to remember that this area has many objective and subjective hazards including but not limited to enormous avalanche paths some of which have been ‘the last run.’

Approach at Artist Point

First, we leave Heather Meadows up an hour long skin to a short but steep snow climb to the top of Table Mountain. From here we dive down a classic north face line called Little AK. This line relentlessly drops for 1,300 vertical feet to the valley floor with slopes near 55 degrees. Steep, deep, and full on welcome to Baker B.C.!

Little AK

At the bottom of Little AK we glare up at second run of the day, namely Diamond Trees. This 1,100’ east face plummets 45+ degrees through open glades, tree lined chutes, and gullies. Beware of these slopes since sluff management is a required skill and this is not a classroom. One wrong turn into moving snow and you may find yourself in the body capturing tree strainers near the bottom.

Diamond Trees

Our third run lies 1,500’ above us on Mount Hermans South East Ridge. From Hermans false summit we escape into the snow globe that is the south bowl. A short fourth run down 500' north slopes takes us to a quick 700’ skin track cruiser up to Hermans south sub-summit. From here east facing 40 degree slopes descend powder filled bowls, over wind lips and off a steep cliff playground before reaching a moraine called the dragons back.

Herman South Bowl

The fifth line of the day takes us back up to Hermans South East Ridge summit for another steep line. From nearly 5,700’ we descend 1,500’ down steep 50 degree steps and benches and over cliff drop zones up to 25’. Creatively named the Lot Line this slope demands a variety of riding skills and intricate route finding to lead back to, you guessed it, the parking lot.

Come on out and play!

This is one of my favorite full day tours that requires technical skills including route finding, skin track setting, and sluff management. It's physically demanding with full day pace management and a total of nearly 5,100 vertical feet. Fill in the steep expert lines with deep blower pow while possibly following the skin track of one of your favorite pro riders you may have the best day of your life!

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Where not to go on a Weekend in the Baker Backcountry

Solo of Mount Index

Mount Baker North Ridge in a Day

Author: Paul Barish
Instagram: @paul_barish

Splitboard Courses in the Cascades with Deep La Nina Pow!

Contact Jere directly for private days or courses for you and the crew!

The Watson Traverse

Make the pilgrimage to a mecca of backcountry big lines, Mount Baker

This unrivaled day trip is available through out the winter. Contact Guided Exposure for more details.

Where not to go on a Weekend in the Baker Backcountry

Solo of Mount Index

Mount Baker North Ridge in a Day

Author: Paul Barish Instagram: @paul_barish

Splitboard Courses in the Cascades with Deep La Nina Pow!

Contact Jere directly for private days or courses for you and the crew!

The ﻿Watson Traverse

Make the pilgrimage to a mecca of backcountry big lines, Mount Baker

This unrivaled day trip is available through out the winter. Contact Guided Exposure for more details.

Author: Paul Barish
Instagram: @paul_barish

The Watson Traverse