First, it was another try at the Ptarmigan Traverse. I wish I'd taken a series of photos during the first day, as they would have made a perfect illustration of what bad weather looks like as it moves in. High cirrus clouds heralding the approach of the warm front, followed by stratus clouds that thicken and lower, as well as lenticular cloud caps on neighboring peaks. We camped the first night at the edge of the Cache Glacier, and the next day we went up to Cache Col in a whiteout. A forecast from Vaughn's lightweight ham radio suggested that it wasn't likely to clear anytime soon - and indeed it didn't, with fresh snow falling in the North Cascades a few days later.
First, naturally, one must start with the optimistic signing of the register at the Darrington Ranger Station.
And, after a bright-and-early 6pm start up the Cascade Pass trail, things still look reasonable. Sun still shining. Trail still dry. Brush still not wet. Visibility still extant.
After crossing some steep, taxing snow runnels on the traverse from Cascade Pass to the Cache Glacier, we set up camp as it got dark.
Why am I smiling so broadly the next day? Simple - I'm enjoying a good bail! Plus, we've returned to Cascade Pass after avoiding the worst of the snow runnels by staying high on the traverse.
Ah, the joys of a semi-dry spot along the forest trail. Life is good. And don't let that apparent sunshine in the background fool you - the camera has overexposed the grey sky in order to get a decent exposure of Tom and Evan's faces. Trust me, it was socked in. Really.
There's a great view from the col down into the Entiat drainage. Note the nice Neoglacial moraine. Evan is checking out the snow conditions. You may be able to notice the pinwheel tracks at the lower left, which were caused by small rocks that we threw onto the slope. Also notice the small slough below Ev.
Assessment: Soft.
The view across the north face is spectacular. One of those features is probably the "Crawling Rat Rib" (see green Beckey). Yikes. The snow was really soft. Yikes again.
Consensus: bail.
So, from the Maude-Seven Fingered Jack col, we scrambled to the summit. It was a remarkably taxing scramble over steep and exposed ribs, just on the far side of the gendarmes seen behind Tom's head. All quite loose. No pro. It's not in the guidebook, and with good reason. The closest thing to it is probably green Beckey's mention of Hermann Ulrichs' accidental climb of the west peak of Maude. I doubt, however, that we were the first to do it. Note the helmet that Tom's sporting - highly recommended.
Mt. Fernow (just right of center) as seen from Maude. Some of the summits of Seven Fingered Jack are visible to the left of Fernow. The large peak in the left background is Bonanza Peak, the highest non-volcanic peak in the Cascades. The summit view from Maude is great - one can see nearly all of the peaks in the Washington Cascades, with the exception of Shuksan and the Pickets.
View to the west from Maude, with Evan eating a melted chocolate bar of mine that I traded for a swig of Gatorade. Glacier Peak is on the right. I suspect that some of the peaks to the left of Glacier are the Napeequa and Dakobed ranges. One of the nice things about Maude is that it's directly in the rainshadow of Glacier Peak.
Another neat thing about the Entiat Range is the presence of Glacier Peak pumice all over the place. Chunks of it can be found lying around in stream beds and are often revealed in the soil disrupted by fallen trees.
Me atop Maude, digging the fact that we're about to descend the easy South Shoulder. You can bet that I was wearing a helmet during the ascent.
Recommendation: When descending, don't miss the easy snowfields leading down into the Leroy Creek cirque from the crest of the shoulder. Otherwise, you'll wind up in difficult gullies of loose rock, and you'll have to put the helmets back on.