June 17-20, 2004, Ptarmigan Traverse

For my 100th post, I thought I'd up the bar for the somewhat dubious distinction of longest post.  I'm not sure if I made it, but it's probably close..

w/ Phil Higuera
                                                                               
In his book "The Best Ski Touring in America" Steve Barnett makes an off-handed comment about "deep, jungle filled holes" when comparing valleys in the Western Cascades to those east of the crest.  The line has become somewhat of a legend amongst our friends, and whenever I have a commanding view of a deep Cascadian valley, especially one without a trail, I can't help but think "wow, that's some impressive jungle filled hole down there."  One of the many virtues of the Ptarmigan Traverse is that it manages to avoid travel in any of these holes, except of course for the exit, mile after never ending mile, but we'll get to that.

Truth be told, this wasn't the first choice for a high route this spring, as I had just walked the traverse for the second time last fall.  The snow pack, weather and our work schedules conspired to make it the only feasible choice however.  The high country along the route is superlative and skiing is always a drastically different experience than walking, so we shouldered our heavy packs and started the trek from the Cascade River Road Thursday morning.  Unfortunately, the car shuttle and shenanigans with the workers starting repair work on the road conspired to push our departure time back to 10 am.  We had hoped to make it to Spider-Formidable col the first night, but with this late start and precious 4 hours of sleep the night before, it was not to be.

From Cascade Pass we skied a short distance into Pelton Basin and climbed a snow gully to the Cache Glacier instead of making the steep traverse across Mixup Arm.  Above 6500 ft on the glacier we ran into recent snow;  it wasn't too soft on skis, but was fairly rotten, with our poles penetrating several feet.  In the fall, Cache Col is protected by a moat and a hundred feet of steep mud, but in the spring it is nothing more than a gentle snow slope, buried under many feet of snow.  By the time we arrived at the col after 5400 ft of climbing, it was mid-afternoon and the sky was beginning to look fairly ominous.  The weather forecast when we left called for sunny skys on Thursday, but "I'll be damned if those clouds don't look like rain clouds," I thought.  We skied down below Cool Aid Lake, then climbed past the lake to make a descending traverse over towards Red Ledge.  The ledge itself was mostly snow covered, with a section melted out;  a steep gully bypassed most of the ledge, but it too was partly melted out.  Is that snow rotten?  The entire prospect looked a bit too unsavory for our tastes, so we instead climbed some brush and a snow gully on climbers right to gain the ridge above.  By this time it was approaching early evening, and the clouds overhead were starting to grow worrisome.  Sheets of rain were falling to our south and west, but were re-evaporating in the dry lower atmosphere before hitting the ground.  Occasionally, a few sprinkles would touch down.  We decided to make camp instead of pressing on.  That evening we were treated to a fiery sunset behind Johannesburg, some impressive god rays through the isolated rain squaws and a lightning and thunder display to our south west.  "Sunny?"  Hum, something was amiss with the forecast.

Friday dawned crystal clear, and after enjoying the view of Formidable and Spider over breakfast, we made a descending traverse below the Middle Cascade Glacier.  The talus here was melted out, but we didn't mind as the beaten trail made for easy upward progress.  We skinned up the glacier to the col, then made a long descending traverse to Yang Yang Lakes.  A steep snow gully gave access to the arm below Le Conte.  By this time, dark clouds had again billowed up, and appeared to be raining to our north.  The snow hadn't refrozen over night, was quite rotten and we were concerned about the steep traverse to gain access to the Le Conte Glacier.  A clap of thunder sounded and we paused to weigh our options.  I desperately wanted to make it past the Le Conte Glacier on Friday, both to climb Old Guard which I hadn't previously done on either of my trips, and to give us an opportunity to ski Dome the following day.  It began to snow, and in a moment of weakness perhaps, we decide to stay put.

Saturday morning, after cramponing up Le Conte arm, we made a long descending traverse on softening snow, then roped up at the base of the Le Conte Glacier.  I knew we'd be walking across what later in the season are gaping crevasses, so the rope seemed prudent.  The snow on the lower glacier only superficially re-froze, and was soft and rotten below the thin surface crust.  This surely would would have been very soft the previous afternoon we consoled ourselves.  We arrived at the Sentinel - Le Conte col without incident and took in the view of the South Cascade Glacier.  The entire Ptarmigan is spectacular, but the section from the Le Conte Glacier to the Dana Glacier is perhaps the nicest, and my favorite.  As we arrived at the col above White Rock Lakes, I swear I heard Phil's jaw drop.  All at once, and for the first time in the tour, one can see the entire cirque from the Chickamin Glacier over to Spire Point in one unbroken wall of ice and rock.  The curiously perched Gunsight; the heaving mass of the Chickamin, broken beyond belief, reminiscent of a drying lava flow as it runs into the slabs and rubble above over its long tongue;  Dome and Elephant Head aligned in the center, their twin forms anchoring the scene;  the twin lobes of the Dana Glacier, and finally the improbably sharp Spire Point.  Below snow line, the most impressive jungle filled hole of the trip, Agnes Creek, gracefully arcs out of view.  It is one of the most spectacular views in the Cascades, forever protected by days of work and toil, and a previous generation of thoughtful, hard working politicians and conservationists.

We made some fine turns down to White Rock Lakes, then traversed below the Dana Glacier and climbed to Spire Col.  The climb was very hot - at one point Phil stopped to roll in the snow - but soon enough we arrived at the col to nice views of Glacier Peak.  We took a break for some food, and I told Phil what I knew about the original Ptarmigans.  We skied down to Itswoot Ridge and made camp in one of the more scenic camps I've seen.  Phil took a run towards Dome, while I contently sat and watched clouds blow past the peaks.
                                                                               
After packing up on Sunday morning, we skied and hiked out.  We were able to ski down to Cub Lake, then climb to the Bachelor Creek divide on mostly bare trail, before skiing down to the gigantic slide path in Bachelor Creek.  Here we packed the skis for the last time and began the brush battle.  The trail in Bachelor Creek has fallen into disrepair; we cursed the brush and downfall until finally arriving at Downey Creek.  In one particularly annoying alder thicket, Phil wondered out loud what it must have been like for the pioneers.  Did they carry machetes?  I replied simply, "They were harder in those days."  We switched to running shoes for the final hike out Downey Creek, down what must be the longest 6 miles in the entire range.  Most of the trail here is in fine shape, but the riparian zones are overgrown.  As I pushed through a particularly thick section of thorny bushes and devils club high over the tops of my skis, I more than once heard Phil snicker, "hehe, jungle filled holes."