Home > Trip Reports > June-4-10, 2009, Valhallas, Olympus, and Vicinity

June-4-10, 2009, Valhallas, Olympus, and Vicinity

6/4/10
WA Olympics
50795
15
Posted by Jason_H. on 6/28/09 7:54am
This story is probably best viewed on my website:

[color=Maroon]€œI think what a joy it is to be alive, and I wonder if I€™ll ever leap inward to the root of this flesh and know myself as once I was. The root is there. Whether any act of mine can find it, that remains tangled in the future. But all things a man can do are mine. Any act of mine may do it.€
[color=Brown]-Frank Herbert from Children of Dune

Day One: Hoh Ranger Station to Elk Lake

[color=Teal]"7 DAYS OF WONDER..."







The Olympics have names that stir the soul. From Ridge of the Gods to Enchanted Valley, you are left in wonder. In a place you can lose yourself for weeks, where few people go, and time is measured by the sun going up and the sun going down, life is quiet even when it is loud. There is peace that isn't just of the air, but of the earth underfoot. Emotion just as real as ours beats in the ground. And above, in high places, when I look at the mountains, I watch as one great head among them swivels and looks over at me with a grin. Yet, as the snows sway and the rocks shake loose around me, I know the mountain beneath had turned to send a grin of his own across the valleys and rivers between. Realization is quick upon me. I know then how small we are in a place so big. Even in my 7 days among the trees and glaciers - soul filled to the brim, candle burning from both ends, I have to wonder if these mountains even noticed me?

My ultimate destination the Valhallas, a remote sub-range south of Mount Olympus, were named after Norse Gods. To get there by any route requires a Herculean effort. One made more difficult by the rain forests that fill the valleys and the rains that feed them - on average the most anywhere in the US. 'The Climbers Guide to the Olympic Mountains' suggests the South Fork of the Hoh River as the easiest approach to these mountains. For a skier though, the bushes and terrain pose quite the barrier to entry. Another way was necessary. Last year, Steph Apegg wrote a story in the NWMJ with hints to a line of attack that could work. She and a friend had traversed into Mount Olympus and beyond from the Valhallas. If I could get to Olympus, I could back track their route and reach the Valhallas. Once in the high country, I would wait as long as I could for a window of opportunity.

The ~18 miles to Blue Glacier is along a well worn path. I'd been up it twice, once when I was very young and once as a long day, but never on skis. Kyle Miller, a splitboarder had never been in the area at all. Unemployed and ready to go, I hired him on as motivator and comedian. Past experience told me I'd need both during the long carry in. Never am I happy to carry skis, but Kyle - GOD FORBID - appeared perfectly content to lug a snowboard!!! After escaping the parking lot and stares of, "Are those skis? Where are they going?" we began eating away miles one step at a time.

Throughout we meandered in between trees that take your breath away when looks up keep you gazing long enough to forget to breathe in. In fact, the forest exists unlike so many others I've visited. There is life and vibrancy teaming here, there is a healthy balance that logged and replanted forests are bereft of, and there is a noticeable peace that my being there appears to interrupt, but only if I listen closely. It returns if I am silent. The wind brushes the forest canopy like a theater erupting in cheer, then quiets. Not a breath of wind reaches me until it is long past, and you wonder, "Where did it come from?" I don't think it arrives on its own, but from tree sprites or gnomes testing me to see if I am worthy of nature's notice. Am I listening? Do I see them? Or am I just another man lost in daydream on a long hike in hot and muggy air?

If it wasn't dwellers of the forest on my mind, then it was screaming shoulders crying foul over their mistreatment. There are times I wonder if I will end an old man with a bent back permanently twisted downward from the abuses of my youth. On past Five Mile Island, Olympus Ranger Station, Lewis Meadow, the bridge over Martin Creek, and finally to a spot before Elk Lake, near a stream, we decided to rest for the night and beg forgiveness from our bodies.

That night I dreamed of the days ahead.

Day Two: Elk Lake to Snowdome

With morning came more work and a renewed vigor. Today we'd arrive on snow and glacier where I'd attach skis to feet. Like a fish going back to the sea, putting skis on is like swimming rather than floundering. A long side hill leads to Glacier Meadows where a few washouts leave you dusting off your cloths and shaking out your shoes. Once at the meadows you arrive at a nice shelter. On nearby logs we rested before pulling off our skis and boots and attaching skins. From here we'd finally feel like we were getting somewhere. Nothing like knowing that everything behind is just a turn away.

The Blue Glacier always fascinates me. All low elevation glaciers in the northwest do and every aspect of Mount Olympus is covered in them. It is hard to prove since no measuring station is maintained, but perhaps more snow falls here than Mount Baker or Rainier, where the last two records for annual snowfall have been measured. If these glaciers are any gauge of it, then there could be some basis to those who wonder, "What if?" Besides the Blue Glacier, over Glacier Pass is the Hoh Glacier, on the south face is the Hubert Glacier and further west is one other, an unnamed glacier. For peaks between 6000-8000-ft tall, they give an impression of mountains I'd see in the North Cascades, not on a peninsula near the Pacific Ocean above a rain forest.

We climbed upward and traversed to the skyline before we rolled over the top of Snow Dome, beneath Olympus. Seeing clouds swarming the valleys, we dropped our packs and raced another mile to a col overlooking the Valhallas. I took a plethora of photos, but not much could be seen besides the peaks themselves. It was the valleys we were concerned about finding our way down to and up from. On our way back to our packs, Mount Tom and the White Glacier were calling me, but so were many things. First, food and rest. Although neither was easy to get since the sunset that night was like a good movie you couldn't pull away from. We eventually did, but all we could do is dream of the next one.

Day Three: Mount Olympus - Middle and West Peaks, Five Fingers

There were clouds still swarming the valleys so we decided to climb Mount Olympus and see, perhaps, if anything interested us from there. Since we were so close to the top, we didn't get an early start, but once we were moving we were up to the rock in no time. There was no one else anywhere. Once on the summit block, I looked for the easiest route to the top. We had a rope, but it was mostly for rapping down. The climb began very easily along crumbly rock, a staple of this range that once existed at the bottom of the ocean. After traversing a few hundred feet to the east ridgeline, we climbed the last few feet to the top. All the while Klye was in his snowboard boots and I could hear them slipping on the rock. With your ass hanging out over the southeast side of Olympus, you can quickly become disheartened, but the climbing is easy if you keep your head on straight. It isn't the fear you want to lose, but the liking of it you need to welcome. We both had smiles on our faces, so I'm sure we were enjoying our climb. Before we could find excuses to hurry, we looked in every direction from the crown summit of the Olympic Mountains! Godly names are appropriate for godly places. There we were on the summit of Olympus where I wondered if the Greeks had got it wrong and that the throne of Zeus was in fact on the other side of the world?

We descended to the west in two rappels that could've easily been one. At the snow again, I easily convinced Kyle to climb up and over Five Fingers. My plan was to go have a 'look' at the North Face of the Middle Peak of Olympus. After skiing down the other side, I crossed the glacier high, while Kyle was forced to go low. My 'look' turned into me booting all the way to the top before Kyle even reached the base. I stood on top of the route thrilled with the perfect snow conditions. I wrote in my journal and enjoyed the view. When he arrived, we tried to stay on the snow, but it was sluffy so we transitioned to rock and soon were standing on the summit looking back at the way we had come.

There was an icy layer under the thin snow off the summit. I wasn't sure if the upper layer would all come away and fall over the cliffs or if it'd be fine. With extra care, I made sure I didn't hit a rock or become overzealous. Late season snows have for the past few seasons kept me on edge since this experience last June. But once on the face, I was comfortable and had Kyle make several turns for a photo. The terrain was incredible and the skiing was just as awesome.

At the bottom, I found a nice place to jump the schrund. It wasn't until I got to Crystal Pass that I waited for Klye who was forced to a low route once more. The sun was brilliant.

Back at camp, the best of our sunsets awaited us. Also the warmest of the nights we would have. Kyle came over for a time, but I couldn't pull myself away. I stayed on the cliffs looking down and out for hours, until the sun blinked out and vanished. It is in that moment, when the sun speeds around the planet beyond our sight that we can measure the pace at which these hours, days, years are moving away from us at. There is no better thermometer to life than that. To be a witness to it is humbling every single time. My hope is that it would be no different the following night.

Day Four: North Face of Athena

The morning was a disappointment. Fog had come to our tent's door and greeted us with her gray dress. Since there was no reason to rise, we rested and waited for a break in the weather. I awoke to Klye who heard people. From the bowels of cloud came a group who even a mile off were heard. One man sung, "He's got the whole world in his hands, he's got the whoooooooole world in HIS hands." Throughout the remainder of the trip, whenever we were lost in the fog, one of us would bust out that song and the other would yell, "Shut the hell up!" LOL.

Another skier (the only one we'd see) surprised us by coming over to visit. He was a nice guy. We talked for a bit before he went up to Olympus. After everyone was gone, I convinced Kyle that we should go for a ski. Our plan for the day was to go to the Valhallas, but we couldn't do that if the weather wasn't any good. My plan was to descend the Snowdome and climb up to Glacier Pass and traverse around and up the Hoh Glacier to the summit of the East Peak of Olympus. This way we'd ski all the summits. It wasn't to be. By the time we were traveling up the Hoh Glacier, our views were limited to sporadic breaks in the clouds. Seeing that it could worsen even more, we decided to ski Athena, which appeared to have an exciting face to ski.

Our skins were hopeless at best. Pollen had destroyed any hopes of their being able to take us anywhere. Not even my straps were doing me any good. We surrendered to boot packing, leaving our skins in a swale below Athena's Owl. We were going to rock climb to the top, but I wanted to climb the face which is what we did. It was steep and fog encumbered and my fingers were screaming at me from the chilly snow. When I arrived at the top I discovered a small glass jar with the remains of notes left by previous climbers. A few went back over 50 years! And there were very few of them at that. Another area where the prize (in this case Mount Olympus) is climbed and nearby peaks and/or routes are ignored. As for me, I was thrilled to be there encapsulated in white on a remote summit in the middle of nowhere. It was left to my imagination to fill in the sights I could've had.

The descent was quick and the steep turns felt amazing. As Klye took the lead, I could hear the sluffs he kicked off break the silence many seconds after his first turn. The crashing over the shrunds down onto the glacier were powerful and thundering! I soon followed, a blind man turning over and through the folds of gray and white. Where land began and air took over was a question I asked each time my skis pushed into the snow and reached out to grab it.

On our return journey it was our plan to try and climb the East Peak of Olympus. We couldn't even see the peak to have any clue of where to begin. I still thought we could find the route we had skied the previous day. If I could, then we would descend that face again and return over Crystal Pass to our camp. After seeing hide nor hair of rock, I began to second guess my decision, but I stuck to my guns and when we eventually reached the other side of the Hoh Glacier, I continued upward until we reached our tracks from the previous day. Looking down at what we had skied, now in the fog, it appeared more daunting than before, but once skis were on, neither of us were concerned. It was another amazing ski.

This time I waited for Kyle before Crystal Pass just to be sure we didn't lose each other in the fog. The ski was slow going since our skis were caked in pollen. With no visible landmarks, all that was recognizable were my skis and the millions upon millions of glacier worms. From the past few days we have discovered that they like to come out around 5p.m. With their little heads waving in the wind, I analyzed their movements to unlock other secrets of their behavior. Since we had neglected to bring filters we likened our water to, "Protein Shakes" for obvious reasons. Although, for our consumption, Kyle did notice that they didn't appear to be on the snow pack. This did little to remove the picture of tiny worms burrowing through my skin. I wouldn't blame them; my tramping over thousands of 'em on my ski back to camp. In Frank Herbert's Dune, I envisioned his mythological worms of the Planet Arrakis, 100's of feet long, burrowing through these very snows, mothers of these tiny creatures, reaching up to smite me. I didn't linger longer than I had to.

That night clouds would brush up against the mountains like great waves. They would crash over and then pull back. Before long we were drowning in them, but sights of the sun's red glare kept my hopes alive. The next day would be my last chance to visit the Valhallas and the weather was the worst it had been. In the cold wind I stayed looking from the ridge until my fingers became too cold. I went to bed and tried not to dream at all, but that wasn't possible. Dreams are like oil in water, once they begin filling your thoughts, they can't be rid of. They cling to every thought.

----continued----
Day Five: South Face of Olympus, Hugin and the Valhallas

With morning woke an amazing sight. There was not a cloud in the sky, except for a puff lost in the valleys. My eyes lit like a christmas tree and gear piled into our packs in anticipation of an epic day. Loaded and ready to go, we climbed to the Col we had earlier scouted and prepared for the descent.

What is interesting about the South Face of Olympus is that there are few photos of it and none I was able to see. This provided extra excitement for me since the way ahead was unknown. In my torn out chapter of the Olympics guide, I read through its description of the route. In that it recommended two days to go one way was a cause for worry, but I knew we'd be faster without heavy packs. There was confusion over how to reach the Hubert Glacier, but I set those worries aside for agonizing over later.

The morning snow was rock hard. In places where the sun had been longer, there was a little grip, but everywhere else needed to be respected. With skis I managed to enjoy searching for the way down, but I was too far left. Kyle called me over while I was trying to find a way through an ice cliff. No luck. He had thought there may be a way to his right, so I traversed by him and through sections of glacier ice to what appeared to be a couloir leading down to gentler slopes. When Kyle arrived, he began first and found himself struggling to gain purchase. My heart leaped to my throat, but he managed to gain control after losing it. Above us we could see the ice cliff. It was amazing to see when framed by cliffs on three sides. Below were more challenges, but from above there didn't appear to be any. Like a snake hidden in a bush, they were waiting to bite us.

I strayed too far to the right and discovered massive cliffs with cascading waterfalls. Thinking back to the guidebook description, I traversed far over to the ridge to my left, took off my skis and looked over. What I saw didn't look promising, so I waved Kyle over and we met in the middle. After a few turns down and sidesteps up proved fruitless, I traversed back to the left and through steep cliffs in the hopes I'd find a way through. More dead ends pushed me farther to the left until I was able to break free of the cliffs and ski down to a position where I could watch Kyle. He had chosen wisely to down climb a short bit after he had climbed and traversed from our previous dead ends. Before long we were at the bottom safely. After a break Kyle asked, "So do we go further?" A smile and a push from the rocks cast me down the mountain. It was as good a answer as any.

We reached the very bottom of the glacier and followed a stream bed that had carved a deep, crumbling couloir through the cliffs over to a point far below the terminus of the Hubert Glacier. I'd estimate we reached the South Fork of the Hoh River at ~4000-ft. We dropped another few hundred feet around a waterfall, staying to the east of the river before finding couloirs that appeared to lead up to the Valhallas. We were feeling confindent and yet swarming clouds had begun to take residence above us.

A few thousand feet of climbing brought us up to a gentle glacier and near a summit. Sights of the Valhallas looked deceivingly close. They were far from it, at least by the route we chose. From a ridge, we could see down into a massive valley interspersed with cliffs and tumbling streams bashing to meet in the river below. Going higher I decided to drop when I should've gone further still, but worsening weather convinced me to hurry. Finding myself in a very narrow couloir, snow petered out to waterfall and the way back became my escape. I climbed out telling Kyle to look for another way. He decided to climb around, bypassing the waterfall, so he could enter the lower couloir. In what appeared to be an easy traverse, turned out not to be. I was surprised Kyle had continued cause there were no footholds and your hands had nothing solid but heather to hang from. Making sure I grabbed a healthy handful, I pulled myself over to the couloir, lightly carved out a place to put on skis, and managed to safely turn down to the bottom without being cliffed out again. Both Kyle and I promised not to return that way. We'd have to find something else.

More climbing led out of a couloir that appeared as if it would also dead end. Kyle had climbed down to scout and thought he saw a way down the ridge, so we climbed up out of the couloir and found that the ridge in fact had continuous steep snow all the way down to the valley. From Kilkelly Creek I knew that we had made it. Little appeared to stand in our way except for time, which was a cause for concern. Taking a break I reached down into the blood of the Geri-Freki Glacier and drank until I could drink no more and then filled up my bottle for the climb. From previous views of the Valhallas, we had determined that Hugin would be our best bet. It's summit was snow to the top and appeared the finest ski mountain of the bunch.

Kyle took the lead and we set off to finish another 2000-ft of climbing. From my camera I was able to determine where we needed to be in respect to lower cliffs. From there it was on faith as the slope steeped. We could see the outlines of Thor and Woden, but just barely. In this land of Gods' our views were obscured. Bragi, Mimir, Munin, Frigga, Baldur, Vili and Loki all veiled in a white haze of mystery, as perhaps they should be? On the summit I found flowers growing near rocks. I found the color odd in such a black and white landscape. We didn't stay long to appreciate either. We were only half way. 

The ski down was rushed to make up for lost time. This did not lessen the thrill of being among mountains I had come so far to visit. They had been all I had expected. They had provided me challenge which I crave. They opened my eyes so often shut and internal. This place pulled me out myself into the elements, and that is invigorating!

The way back proved as difficult as we expected. Our movements were slowing and our wear beginning to show. We switched leads and trudged up deep snow, bypassing the difficult patch, before eventually reaching the ridge. Not a thing could be seen, but ever so often clouds would abandon their posts and allow us sights forward. Once on our tracks we felt better. We traversed and descended to the valley where we saw a Black Bear with his neck craned up to see us. I wondered then if he had ever seen humans? A few turns frightened him and he burst down the side of the creek and was gone.

Climbing up the South Face of Olympus was nearly 4000-ft of climbing. Reversing our tracks over rivers and streams, up couloirs and around cliffs, we arrived below the steep couloir that led to Snowdome. It was much further than I remembered and steep enough to keep you on your toes. By then darkness had come and with it, all clouds had vanished. Where did they go so fast? I shook my head in wonder. Gray moon shadows were cast over the Valhallas and my aching legs shook when I turned to stare at them. Finally reaching the top, I climbed by brail up rock to the col. With one last look over my shoulder, I wondered if I would ever return? My eyes blinked like a shutter of a camera storing the picture in my head forever.

Day Six and Seven: Camp at Olympus Ranger Station and hike out to Hoh Ranger Station

Sleeping in was a just reward and we slept as long as we could, but hunger motivated us to sort through our food to see what we could eat. I found nothing, but Kyle, who had come with 10 packages of Top Ramen, 20 packages of oatmeal and 5 things of Mac and Cheese, along with snacks dubbed, "Laundry detergent" managed to have food remaining. We really didn't have 5 days of food, let alone 7. I saved what I had left in hopes of receiving a moral boost for dinner.

The return ski down the Blue Glacier was one of the best. Since the snow had iced up the night before during our descent from the col to camp, all the pollen had been ground away. Now that morning our skis cruised well enough that even Kyle was able to keep a full head of steam all the way across the glacier.

At Glacier Meadows we met a group that was spending several weeks in the Olympics as part of a course. They were from the East Coast and were absolutely loaded with food and gear. After chatting with them they later returned to say, "BTW, we have an extra bag of food, would you like some.. cause we'd rather not carry it out?" Kyle and I couldn't of hidden our expressions when they put a bag in front of us full of yogurt covered raisins, mm's, hot chocolate, dried fruit, sugar, and other goodies. After sorting though the food, we said thanks a dozen times and stuffed all the food in our packs. It wasn't until we were at the bridge over Martin Creek that we pulled it all out to eat it in peace. After getting about 1500 calories a day or less for a week, I was very hungry. What a winfall!

That night we decided to stay near the Olympus Ranger Station. There are several camps near the river. We found one that fit our needs and went about spreading our gear all over the place with our newly acquired hoard of food becoming the centerpiece.

The next morning we hiked the last 9 miles to the car. During the hike, wind finally swept to the ground, strong enough to reach us and carry tired legs to the end. A few hours later, we were back at the cars where tourists again wondered, "Are those skis? Where did they go?" With a warm pop in my hand, I sat on the sidewalk and wrote in my journal, "Time to get these damn shoes off!" With people looking on, I didn't care. Perhaps I am a fool, but I'm fine with that. A turn climbed for is a turn earned. A mountain seen from the top of, is a mountain known better for it.

As for these Olympic Mountains, they invited me to "Come on in." So I did, mumbling hello as I passed on through. Now, looking back, this journey kept my heart pumping, breath short and eyes wide. With a thousand memories screaming to be remembered, this week long adventure won't soon be forgotten. Even now, embedded in those experiences there is one that stands out from the crowd. It is this: [i]when every mountain seems lost among the clouds, one remains standing outside it. His face turns toward me with a grin and I turn and face him with a grin of my own.[/i] ~ jason hummel ~

[url=http://cascadecrusades.org/SkiMountaineering/olympics/vahallaolympus2009/DSC_6241.jpg][img]http://www.turns-all-year.com/skiing_snowboarding/trip_reports/thumbnail.php?url=http://cascadecrusades.org/SkiMountaineering/olympics/vahallaolympus2009/DSC_6241.jpg[/img][/url]

Ive been waiting for this for quite a while and it was well worth the wait.
Your writing is amazing but your photos blow your writing out of the water.

Quite a trip, Jason!

From the map and photos, it looks like your excursion out to the Valhallas and back was a huge effort.

Thanks for sharing your story and photos.

As amazing trip.  Thank you for sharing.

Holey moley!
Incredible trip and incredible TR and photos.
Such adventure possible so near to Seattle.
Trip of the year award!

Those pictures are downright awesome!  Nice read too!

Thanks guys.

Lowell, yeah it was a long way, but overall went well. It was very exciting to get out that far on skis into the olympics that's for sure. I just wish I had more food to stay longer. Although, I can't imagine getting that kind of weather again, but who knows, I seem to have some luck with me this year...at least when it comes to weather. LOL.  Maybe some other year I'll come up with the motivation to go out there again.

BTW scotsman, I love your tagline...and adventure is possible anywhere!! Thanks for reading. I've been dreaming of doing this trip for a few years. On my wall is a map of the Olympics. I'd take it down every few months or so and ponder. Now I can fill in some of it with memories.

author=Scotsman link=topic=13724.msg57344#msg57344 date=1246248664]
Trip of the year award!


seconded

Excellent report Jason.  Your account reads very well and is worthy of such great accomplishment.  Thanks for taking the time to share.  I'll read this at least twice more when I have an opportunity to envision the trials and triumphs.

Very nice work guys  ;)

Great trip Jason and Kyle

Jason and Kyle - a great trip, trip report, and photos.  Most excellent adventure!

Thanks Guys. Hopefully lots more adventures to come.

BTW, I finally got this story put up on my website.

Trip Report

Nice trip guys, and some killer photography!

Most eloquently written with stunning photos Jason, you are beginning to master the blending of both.  Your editing time was well spent as I know how long we sometimes labor over our work.  ;)

Congratulations to you both for successfully completing such a long and amazing endeavor and thank you so much for sharing!  Well done!!  8)

Your photos and destinations are unique as usual. Excellent writing. Looks like an amazing trip.

I am also waiting for this one, and I can say that my patience of waiting really worth. I love the photos that you have included on your post. Thank you for the map and photos that really seem to be your excursion out to the Valhallas and back was a huge effort.



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