7.5 miles round trip, 2200 feet elevation gain
Difficulty: Moderate; trail is quite rocky in places
Access: Decent gravel road to trailhead doable by most vehicles, Northwest Forest Pass necessary
You better hang on tight to your jaw when you climb the ladder up to Park Butte Lookout, otherwise you'll have to scramble a couple hundred feet down a cliff to look for it when your jaw drops off at the lookout's panorama of Mount Baker and the peaks of the North Cascades. This is one of Washington State's best known and best loved hiking destinations for good reason: the in-your-face views of Mount Baker and the views of the Twin Sisters, the Pickets, Glacier Peak, and just about every other North Cascades peak you can name. The hike starts from a valley bottom and ascends to this decommissioned fire lookout, passing through forest and subalpine meadows to end at a serrated rock ridge in the alpine. It's an excellent hike with unbeatable views and a reasonable effort, which also makes it an extremely crowded and popular hike.
I hiked this trail with three friends after having watched the Perseid Meteor Shower in North Cascades National Park the night before. The approach from Seattle is along I-5 north to Burlington, then east on Route 20 to Baker Lake Road, then north along Baker Lake Road to the left turnoff for National Forest Road 12, then finally 8 miles of gravel road driving along National Forest Road 12 at first and then a right up National Forest Road 13. NF-13 dead ends at the trailhead. We arrived at 10:30 on a Saturday and found a packed parking area at the trailhead.
After departing the parking lot, the trail immediately crossed Sulfur Creek via a well-built bridge. The following mile of trail was flat, easy hiking through the grassy Schreiber's Meadows. We occasionally caught views of Mount Baker through the trees.
Schreiber's Meadows
There were little to no wildflowers in the meadows; instead, we found plenty of ripe huckleberry bushes that provided a welcome trailside snack.
Trailside huckleberries
The first mile of trail had a generally comfortable dirt tread. At roughly the mile mark, the trail began to ascend slightly more aggressively and also became extremely rocky. Soon afterward, we came to the tumbling muddy waters of the creek fed by the Easton Glacier. We crossed the creek on a seasonal steel bridge (the bridge is only up during the summer months).
Meltwater stream from Easton Glacier
After crossing the bridge, we began the most substantial climb of the hike. For the next mile, the trail pushed uphill through a set of switchbacks in the forest. About two miles from the trailhead, we came to an intersection with the Scott Paul Trail. We took the left fork towards Park Butte. The next third of a mile was a continued uphill climb through the forest until the trail emerged into the greenery of Morovitz Meadows.
We caught our first clear views of Mount Baker at the meadows. At the junction with the trail to the Railroad Grade, we stayed to the left, continuing on towards Park Butte. When we reached the upper end of the meadow, we looked back and saw the rugged, snow-capped peaks of the Mountain Loop Highway and Glacier Peak Wilderness to the southeast.
Morovitz Meadows
A continued climb brought us to the wide, flat, grassy upper Morovitz Meadow. From this vantage point, we could see the summit of Koma Kulshan flanked by Sherman and Colfax Peaks. The Railroad Grade appeared as a gradual green incline leading towards the Black Buttes. Unfortunately, it appeared that there was no substantial wildflower bloom during the summer of our hike.
Koma Kulshan rises over grassy meadows
At the far end of the meadow, the trail ascended through some short switchbacks to a saddle. From here, we looked to the east and caught partial views of the North Cascades. We took the trail heading uphill to the left towards Park Butte from the saddle. As the trail climbed, our views of Mount Baker became progressively better. The trail then emerged onto a meadow-filled plateau dotted with two tarns. The view here was unbelievable: it seemed as if we could see every jagged spire of the North Cascades.
North Cascades and tarns in the high meadows
At the far end of the plateau meadows, the trail began bending to the right, ascending through even more meadows. Looking to the left of the trail, we saw beautiful Pocket Lake nestled below Survey Point with innumerable peaks rising in the distance.
Pocket Lake from trail
Wrapping around the next corner, we found even more meadow-filled mountain slopes with the first views of the Twin Sisters. Unbelievable as it was, the views became even broader as we ascended through this meadow and entered the Mount Baker Wilderness.
North Cascades vista on final ascent to Park Butte
After passing the sign marking our entrance into the Mount Baker Wilderness, we saw the lookout towering a few hundred feet above us atop a rocky spine. We took our time for the final push, stopping often to gawk at the massive Easton and Deming Glaciers pouring down the south face of Mount Baker.
Final approach to the lookout
The last stretch of trail to the lookout had the steepest grades of the hike. Reaching the lookout itself required scrambling up a small rock and ascending a short ladder.
The lookout was unlocked when we visited. In the summer, the lookout is often claimed for overnight stays on a first-come, first-serve basis. The deck surrounding the lookout was quite narrow, so the lookout provided little room for the many groups that congregated at the summit.
The undoubted highlight was the views- what views! The undoubted star of the show was Mount Baker's tumbling glaciers and the colorful Black Buttes that rose to the west above the Deming Glacier. From Mount Baker looking to the right, we could see Shuksan, the Pickets, Bacon, Triumph, Eldorado, Snowking, Glacier , White Chuck, Pugh, Sloan, and Whitehorse. Loomis Mountain, Dock Butte, and the Twin Sisters filled the closer-in view to the south and the west.
Meadows surrounding Park Butte and the North Cascades
Twin Sisters from Park Butte Lookout
The serrated pinnacles, sheer rock walls, and hanging glaciers of the Picket Range were one of the highlights of the view. I've wanted to explore the range closer and nowhere have I heard their siren song louder than at the lookout; yet as a hiker and not a climber, it's still not clear how to gain a close approach to peaks named Mount Challenger, Mount Fury, and Mount Terror.
The Picket Range from Park Butte
The initial mile and a half of the return trip were filled with a beautiful recap of the views we enjoyed on the way up. Making good time downhill, we enjoyed some of the huckleberries in Schreiber's Meadow to cap off an almost excessively idyllic Saturday.
Sauk River, Glacier Peak, and the peaks of the Mountain Loop Highway from Sauk Mountain
4 miles round trip, 1200 feet elevation gain
Difficulty: Moderate
Access: Long, rutted gravel road approach; high clearance vehicle may be preferable. Northwest Forest Pass required for parking.
Sauk Mountain provides the easiest access to a 360-degree summit panorama in Washington's North Cascades. This multi-peak mountain stands just north of the confluence of the Skagit and Sauk Rivers, providing outstanding views both south towards the peaks along the Mountain Loop Highway and east into North Cascades National Park. The summit view encompasses some of the most renowned North Cascades peaks: Johannesburg, Shuksan, and the Pickets can all be seen. This isn't one of those hikes where the trail meanders through the forest forever before reaching one paltry view; here, the stunning views start from the trailhead and only get better all the way to the summit. The trail traverses south-facing open meadows that feature blooming wildflowers for much of the summit. The only catches? The reason that such extraordinary scenery can be had for so little effort is that most of the uphill climbing is done via car in a long, dusty uphill gravel road with substantial ruts. The trail itself, while in decent shape, is eroded in some spots, making ascent potentially tricky for those with a fear of heights.
I've done this hike a number of times- it's such a beautiful place with relatively easy hiking and it's undoubtedly the easiest way to get a panoarmic view of the North Cascades. One of those visits to Sauk Mountain was with my parents: we drove up from Seattle on a gorgeous August day. We followed I-5 north to Burlington, then took Route 20 east past Concrete to the turnoff to the left for the poorly marked Sauk Mountain Road, just before reaching Rockport. The road up was a little narrow with a lot of potholes; it was pretty steep and was fairly severely rutted towards the end. We were able to make it okay in a sedan, though a higher clearance vehicle would have been nice. Despite the rough drive up, the parking lot at the trailhead was almost still completely full: this is a fairly popular hike.
The trailhead is situated amidst the green meadows of Sauk Mountain's upper slopes and is a scenic destination in its own right. The cliff-lined peaks of Sauk Mountain towered directly behind us, just 1200 feet above. To the west, we could see a 180-degree view stretching from the rocky peaks of the Twin Sisters along the entire Skagit Valley to the jagged peaks of Whitehorse, Sloan, and White Chuck along the Mountain Loop Highway.
Sauk Mountain viewed from the trailhead
The trail stayed relatively level for a short stretch after departing from the parking lot, passing through some small patches of trees before breaking out onto an enormous sloped meadow. From here, we followed the narrow trail along its relentless uphill climb through a set of tight switchbacks ascending the slope. Looking downhill, we could see confluence between the milky Sauk River and the turquoise Skagit River.
Beginning of the trail
Peak wildflower season had come and gone already, but there was still a decent amount of tiger lilies, Queen Anne's lace, paintbrush, thistles, and fireweed in bloom.
Tiger lilies in the Sauk Mountain meadows
The trail was never terribly steep, but at times crossed an eroded switchback-cut that ran down the length of the mountain. These crossings required navigating over sections in which the trail narrowed to just a single foot's width, though they were all short enough segments that one could simply hop across. Still, it's a good reminder about what happens when hikers cut switchbacks: it hurts trails!
Sauk Mountain switchbacks, trailhead in the top left corner.
After a fairly large number of switchbacks, the trail began approaching the top of the ridge. Mount Baker started coming into view to the north, though part of the mountain was still blocked by the multiple summits of Sauk Mountain. When the trail finally reached and rounded the ridge crest, a whole new set of peaks exploded into our view. Glacier Peak loomed to the south while the wild, teeth-like spires of the North Cascades lay to the east.
North Cascades from Sauk Mountain
We passed the junction for the trail to Sauk Lake, keeping left to stay on the trail to the Sauk Mountain summit. Rounding a corner, the glacier-covered spire of Mount Shuksan and the short remainder of the trail to the rocky peak of Sauk Mountain emerged to the north.
Final approach to Sauk summit, Mount Shuksan in the distance
A final uphill push through the rocky terrain surrounding the peak brought us to the end of the trail, a former lookout site. The trail ends at one of the Sauk Mountain's multiple summits; unfortunately, it's just a few feet shy of being the mountain's true summit. However, for just about everyone, this false summit provides sufficiently spectacular views that the summit status is irrelevant; from the top, you can see all of the peaks that were visible en route with the exception of Mount Shuksan, which is blocked to the north by the true summit. Peakbaggers who can't resist reaching the real peak can do so by a stretch of somewhat exposed Class 3 scrambling along the ridgeline from the end of the trail.
What can one see from the summit of Sauk Mountain? Essentially, everything. The undeniable stars of the show were Sauk Lake, a blue gem tucked in a cirque just east of the peak, and Mount Baker, the glacier-capped queen of the North Cascades. Deep in the North Cascades, I could see the resplendent peaks of Eldorado, Boston, Johannesburg, and Formidable.
Sauk Lake and Eldorado Peak
Mount Baker from Sauk Mountain
One of the most interesting part of the views was the rare glimpse of the Picket Range in North Cascades National Park. This line of sawtoothed peaks is notoriously difficult to visit or even see without technical climbing; the range is surrounded by the most rugged and extreme terrain in the country. Sauk Mountain provided a far-off view of the range's jagged summits and vertical glaciers.
The Pickets from Sauk Mountain
Looking west, we realized that we could see all the way out past the mouth of the Skagit River to Anacortes and the San Juan Islands- in the very far distance, we could even spot Vancouver Island! The viewshed to the south was equally crazy: the summit of Mount Rainier rose very faintly over the cluster of Big Four Mountain, Sperry and Vesper Peaks, and the Monte Cristo massif.
Twin Sisters and Skagit River valley
We enjoyed the incredible wrap-around views for an hour and then returned to the trailhead via the way we ascended.
12 miles round trip, 3000 feet elevation gain
Difficulty: Moderate-Strenuous due to distance; really just a long moderate hike
Access: Paved road to trailhead, Mount Rainier National Park entrance fee required.
The barren alpine landscape of Panhandle Gap and the luxuriously green meadows of Summerland combine to make this hike one of the most enjoyable in Mount Rainier National Park, a park with no dearth of jaw-dropping hike options. Hikers can choose to travel either four miles to the flower gardens at Summerland or continue an additional two miles to the extraordinary view of Rainier and the southern Cascades at rocky, oft-icebound Panhandle Gap. The trail through Summerland is straightforward, with the elevation gain sufficiently spread out such that the trail is never very steep; the final climb to Panhandle Gap involves slightly steeper areas on loose rock and snow that may be slightly more difficult to handle.
I hiked to Panhandle Gap on a beautiful summer weekend day with three friends. The skies in Seattle were overcast when we headed out, but the clouds cleared out by the time we passed Greenwater on Route 410. Although we tried to leave early to beat the inevitable Saturday traffic at Mount Rainier, we still encountered a 20-minute wait at the Sunrise entrance station and packed parking at the Summerland trailhead, which was just 5 miles down the White River/Sunrise Road from the entrance station. The limited number of actual parking spots were all taken when we arrived, so we parked on the narrow shoulder along the road.
The trail departed from the south side of the road and immediately plunged into an old-growth forest. A few hundred feet from the trailhead, the trail joined up with the Wonderland Trail; we went straight through the junction, which took us towards Summerland on the Wonderland. In the first two miles of hiking, the grades were constant but fairly gentle as we followed the wide, dirt-packed trail within earshot of the tumbling waters of Fryingpan Creek. Along the way, we found a remarkably bent tree just off the trail and wondered how it could've grown into the shape that it assumed.
Curved tree in the forest on the trail to Summerland
After hiking about two miles in, the trail began to offer the first hints of views. We caught peekaboo glimpses of the snowfields, rock faces, and tumbling waterfalls on Banshee Mountain. At one point, the trail neared a small waterfall on Fryingpan Creek, but unfortunately the waterfall itself could only be heard and not seen. Wide, well-built wooden bridges carried the trail across a number of feeder streams dropping down to Fryingpan Creek from Goat Island Mountain.
Fryingpan Creek
At roughly three miles in, the wide trail ended as the we came to the rocky riverbed of Fryingpan Creek. Here, we crossed the creek via two narrow but well-built log bridges.
Fryingpan Creek
Beyond the river crossing, the trail entered some semi-open meadows with the first substantial wildflowers and views of the hike. Mount Rainier and Little Tahoma Peak came into our field of view; from this perspective, Little Tahoma seemed to be equivalently tall as Rainier itself, although it's a full 3000 feet shorter.
Rainier and Little Tahoma from meadows along Fryingpan Creek
Past the creekside meadows, the trail delved back into the woods and began a stretch of substantial uphill climing, switchbacking up the south slopes of the Fryingpan Creek valley. At the halfway mark of this ascent, the forest thinned out slightly and the trail entered a meadow slope that was bursting with wildflowers. Lupine, sitka valerian, heather, paintbrush- numerous blooming, bright colors dotted the green meadows.
Heather in the meadows
The switchbacks ended when the trail meandered into a verdant, lush meadow coated with lupine. Summerland Camp- a backcountry campground- lay at the far end of this meadow. We passed by a toilet and a shelter by the camp area.
Lupine in the meadows
We glimpsed a marmot roaming through these meadows, munching happily on lupine and other flowers, fattening up for its upcoming winter hibernation.
Marmot in Summerland meadows
The trail continued onward into an even more expansive and verdant set of meadows. The open views of Rainier, Little Tahoma, and the surrounding snowcapped alpine ridges were enhanced by the nearby scene of green meadows, blooming heather, and tumbling streams.
Rainier at Summerland
Summerland
Past the meadows, the trail entered a rocky alpine wonderland. Milky glacier-fed streams plunged down barren rock, snowfields dotted our surroundings, and far off views of the Stuart Range emerged. The trail, which had been on a comfortable, soft tread prior to reaching Summerland, became rocky and occasionally steep.
Waterfall below Panhandle Gap
After crossing a log bridge, the trail became progressively difficult to follow. Cutting at times across small snowfields and crossing precariously over snow patches that had been hollowed out by streams flowing underneath, we came to a pair of starkly beautiful blue-green lakes at the foot of Panhandle Gap. The larger of the lakes was still partially frozen almost seven weeks after summer solstice.
Meltwater pond below Panhandle Gap
The last climb was through steep sections of loose rock and snow. While we worked our way up through the snowfields, Mount Rainier returned to our field of view. We could see the lip of the volcano at Columbia Crest, the sharp pyramid of Little Tahoma, and the heavily crevassed Emmons Glacier pushing its way down the mountain's east slope. The final snow slope crossings were exposed and thus more difficult, though in each case, there was a relatively safe runout in case of a fall.
Rainier from Panhandle Gap
At the end of the last snow crossing, we found ourselves atop the ridge and suddenly face to face with the stunning views to the south. The meadows and snowfields of Ohanapecosh Park lay at our feet; in the distance, glaciers and late-summer snow lingered on the Goat Rocks, Mount Adams, and Mount Hood. Looking back the way we came, we could see Rainier itself, the turquoise lakes we passed en route, and the back side of Goat Island Mountain. The green meadows coating the southern slopes of Banshee Mountain lay to the east.
Adams and the Goat Rocks from Panhandle Gap
After enjoying the views and our lunches, we retraced our steps. We did find that the snowfields near the gap were both steep enough and in appropriate condition to do two short glissades, each with a drop of roughly 40 vertical feet. The fun of sliding down a snow slope in August was a perfect way to cap off an extraordinarily beautiful hike at the base of Mount Rainier.
View of Mount Rainier from the summit of Mount Adams
12.5 miles round trip, 6750 feet elevation gain
Difficulty: Strenuous
Access: Road to trailhead for high clearance vehicles only; $30 annual Northwest Forest Pass required to park at trailhead, $15/person Cascade Volcano Pass required to attempt summit
Mount Adams is the second-tallest peak in the State of Washington, a massive, lonely stratovolcano that towers over the state's southeastern portion of the Cascades. Although Adams rises well above other well-known Washington peaks such as Baker, Glacier, and Olympus, it is a surprisingly straightforward climb for a mountain of its height. The South Climb via the Lunch Counter and Pikers Peak is a nontechnical route that allows access to the lofty summit and its thrilling glissade chutes for extremely fit hikers equipped with ice axes, crampons, and the knowledge to use both. While some hikers are able to tackle the entire mountain in a day, we took two days, an approach I'd recommend to most other hikers.
Mount Adams is many things: besides being the second tallest peak in Washington state, it's also an ultraprominent peak and the ninth most prominent peak in the 48 states; in fact, its clean prominence of 8117 feet dwarfs the height of any peak in the Appalachians. The elevation gain on this hike is more than sufficient to climb from sea level past the height of either North Carolina's Mount Mitchell or New Hampshire's Mount Washington, so suffice it to say, it's a pretty sizable mountain. It's also a massive mountain: by volume, it's the second largest mountain in Washington state, with a broad summit plateau and fairly gently sloping sides. Rainier and Shasta are the only Cascade volcanoes that exceed Adams in height and size.
Adams, being far inland and generally not visible from the Puget Sound or the Pacific coast, was not named by George Vancouver during his maritime expedition to the Northwest in the late 18th century, thus escaping the indignity of being named after yet another British naval officer. The Yakama who lived on the lands to the east of the mountain knew the volcano as Pahto, but Lewis and Clark, while passing through on their way down the Columbia River to the Pacific, spotted the snowy eminence and decided that it should instead bear the name of the nation's second president.
The route up the mountain is fairly straightforward, but does require a general understanding of the mountain to prevent wandering onto the Crescent Glacier or down the Southwest Chutes. From the South Climb Trailhead at 5600 feet, the first two miles are on a well marked trail along an easy uphill grade to the Morrison Creek crossing below the Crescent Glacier. The next half mile is a journey through rocky terrain with the trail marked by cairns and posts to the top of a ridgeline; here the trail remains reasonably easy to follow until it hits the snowfields below the Lunch Counter. From here on, the trail stays almost entirely on snow, requiring either microspikes or crampons for traction depending on snow conditions. Most climbers choose to set up a high camp at the Lunch Counter, where rock shelters help protect climbers from the oft-intense wind. After reaching the Lunch Counter at around 9000 feet, the trail begins a relentless climb along the snowfield coating the mountain's south spur to reach Pikers Peak, the false summit, at over 11500 feet. A flat reprieve along the plateau north of Pikers Peak is followed by a final push to the summit at 12280 feet. This route requires rock scrambling, extensive snow travel, and knowledge for self-arresting with an ice axe, and also presents the danger of altitude sickness. Sunscreen is also an absolute necessity, on every imaginable area of exposed skin: UV is strong at high elevations and in the snow. Don't climb Mount Adams if you don't know what you're doing.
Two friends and I set out from Seattle on a Saturday morning, heading south along I-5 and then I-205, crossing the Columbia River into Oregon. After lunching at Portland's somewhat eclectic Cameo Cafe, we followed I-84 east through the Columbia River Gorge to Hood River, then crossed the river on the toll bridge and followed Route 14 west, then Route 141 north, to Trout Lake. We stopped at the Mount Adams Ranger Station at Trout Lake, where we picked up Cascade Volcano Permits for climbing the mountain and were given bags for packing out poop (leaving solid human waste on Mount Adams is illegal). We then backtracked slightly to follow the Mount Adams Road towards the trailhead, turning onto NF-80 a few miles north of Trout Lake and later bearing onto NF-8040, which both were signed to lead to the South Climb Trailhead. The last few miles of the drive were quite difficult to drive: the roads were heavily rutted, making a high-clearance vehicle a must.
By the time we got to the trailhead, it was past 5 in the afternoon. We shouldered our packs and headed out onto the trail, which started out as a decomissioned road. The grade was not too steep but was still fairly steady, bringing us gradually uphill as we hiked closer and closer to the bulk of Mount Adams. The trail was surrounded constantly by a forest that seemed to have burnt recently: whitened and blackened trunks were everywhere. Lupine dotted the trailside and the small patches of meadow that were interspersed in the forest. Mount Hood and Mount St. Helens made occasional cameos through the open forest.
Mount Hood and trailside lupine
A little over a mile from the trailhead, we came to the junction with the Pacific Crest Trail. We stayed straight through the junction, continuing on the South Climb Trail. After passing the junction, we began catching frequent nice views of our destination, the massive volcano Adams. As we began to approach the mountain, the true summit began to sink behind the southern prow of Pikers Peak.
Mount Adams from the South Climb Trail
About two miles from the trailhead, the trail emerged at the bottom of the bowl of the Crescent Glacier. After crossing Morrison Creek, the trail became and narrow and rocky. We decided to camp here near the creek, which was the only true water source along the entire hike. We set up camp at the foot of a few pines with clear views of Pikers Peak, Mount Hood, and Mount St. Helens. After eating dinner, we watched the evening light color Hood's elegant summit pyramid.
Mount Hood from our campsite near Morrison Creek
Crescent Glacier and Pikers Peak from our campsite
We headed to bed at a little after 9 PM to prepare for the next morning's early start. Waking slightly after midnight, I wandered outside our tent and found a Jackson Pollock of stars strewn across the sky. The moon was new and absent from the night sky, which was sullied by no external light- both Portland and Seattle were hours away. There were surely no less than ten thousand stars twinkling above- a night sky unrivalled by any other I've ever seeen.
When I woke again, it was still dark but the stars were fading. We ate our 4 AM breakfast, packed up our campsite, stowed our gear, and then began our summit push by 5:30 AM. As we hiked out of the bowl and arrived at the foot of the Crescent Glacier, dawn began to paint the sky.
From the foot of the Crescent Glacier, the trail turned to the left and headed towards the ridge that rose to our west. Here, the route was slightly unclear; we chose to follow the route that most others were taking, which involved a climb up a steep set of snow steps to reach the ridge. The snow steps were both steep and slippery and at their end led to the lip of a 20-foot deep randkluft, a melted rift between the snowfield and the underlying rock. We gingerly negotiated the randkluft, scrambling through it while noting thankfully that we weren't carrying heavy packs up to the Lunch Counter. There may have been easier ways around this obstacle, but this was the route we found.
The trail then continued up the ridge, climbing fairly aggressively uphill with sweeping views to the south of the forested Cascades, Mount Hood, the very tip of Mount Jefferson, and the endless Oregon desert. The sun had finally risen, allowing us to see Mount Adam's massive shadow cast onto the sea of fog to the west stretching towards the morning-lit St. Helens.
Mount St. Helens and the shadow of Mount Adams
About an hour out of our Morrison Creek campsite, we reached the beginning of the snowfields. We followed existing tracks uphill through the snow. In the early morning, the snow was still solid, making snow travel easy with appropriate traction.
An hour of hiking through the snow brought us past rock-walled campsites and views of Mount St. Helens to the Lunch Counter, a flatter portion of the mountain at the base of Suksdorf Ridge. We donned our crampons at the base of the long climb to Pikers Peak.
Looking up at Pikers Peak from the Lunch Counter
The next two and a half hours were an endless, steady slog up the 30 to 35 degree snow slope leading from the Lunch Counter to Pikers Peak. As we hiked up, the snow softened in the sun, making uphill progress progressively more difficult. We ascended alongside the glissade chute, watching jealously as early-rising climbers zipped downhill on their return journey. There were very few flat spots to sit and rest, but the snow was bumpy and soft enough that we could at times sit without having to worry about sliding downhill.
Looking back to the Lunch Counter on the climb to Pikers Peak
The long slog ended at Pikers Peak. At the windy false summit, we had 150-mile views into the Oregon desert and south past Mounts Hood and Jefferson to the Three Sisters. We were now at a higher elevation than everything within our sight. We were all slighty light-headed and out of breath from the altitude, but the views of the parade of Cascade volcanoes still left a strong impression in my mind.
Mount St. Helens
Mounts Hood and Jefferson
North of Pikers Peak, the relentless climb paused briefly as the route crossed across the broad plateau of the false summit. The true summit rose ahead, seemingly still forever away. We trudged across the flat false summit to the base of the summit block, taking in views of the glacier pouring down the mountain's east face as we ascended.
Mount Adams summit from Pikers Peak
Almost fully exhausted, we made a final uphill push along the snowy patch on the southwest face of the summit block. An hour after leaving Pikers Peak, we finally saw the uphill icy slope end ahead of us, giving way to a jaw-dropping view of Rainier to the north. We had reached the summit.
The views were tremendous: we could see forever in every direction. Besides Rainier, every point in our view was at a lower elevation; we were standing atop the second tallest point in the Pacific Northwest. We could see the Cascade volcanoes, the Goat Rocks, and the Stuart Range, as well as just about every peak and ridge between Santiam and Snoqualmie Passes. The summit of Mount Adams itself was not particularly notable, simply a deeply snow-covered summit plateau.
No wonder that the Forest Service chose this summit for a fire lookout in the early twentieth century. Although the summit was remote and hard to reach, the summit's wide viewshed prompted the Forest Service to maintain the lookout for a short number of years. The structure still sits atop the summit, now almost entirely encrusted by ice. The high winds of the summit and the ice are gradually tearing the lookout apart: we were struck by a small chip of the lookout while we were resting at the summit.
Former lookout site at the summit
Summit plateau
View of Pikers Peak from the summit
The wind, our exhaustion, and our schedule forced a short stay at the summit. One of my friends and I descended via glissade when possible, while our other friend tried to ski down portions of the mountain. Skiing was difficult in the bumpy snow, but glissading down was extraordinary. We found three glissade chutes that carried us downhill an aggregate 3000 feet. The first chute descended from the summit block to the plateau of the false summit. The second chute descended over 2000 vertical feet from Pikers Peak directly to the Lunch Counter, an unbroken slide that may be the longest glissade in the Cascades.
The last glissade chute descended down a snowfield just west of the Crescent Glacier, below the Lunch Counter. This chute was the most exhilarating: plunging down a narrow, steep chute that was perhaps as steep as 40 degrees, I descended a long snowfield in two minutes at an average speed of 9.5 miles per hour, hitting over 15 miles per hour at the fastest point in the slide.
Glissade down snowfield adjacent to Crescent Glacier
Understand that glissading is an extremely dangerous activity with many potential sources of injury and requires knowledge of self arrest with an ice axe. If you choose to glissade, you do so at your own risk and agree that this blog is not liable for your decision to do so.
After the final glissade, we hiked back to our campsite, packed up, and made the trudge back to the trailhead. We arrived back in Seattle just before 2 AM.
