June 25, 2005, Mt. Winchester

I was the last to load my skis on the cars. Amidst morning greetings with Allyson and Cass, Carter commented, "Great. All four of us on telemark gear today!" It took me a few minutes to understand what he meant. Cass left the Dynafits at home. He was out to scuff up those brand new Scarpas and put in some genuine genuflecting turns.

The drizzle began near Everett and turned torrential near Bellingham. It wasn't looking pretty. Yet, half way out on the Mt. Baker road the rains subsided, the roads dried, and we counted more than a few, albeit small, sucker holes. The last part of the road to the Twin Lakes trail head is rocky and rough going, yet snow free all the way to the lakes that were still as glass when we parked the cars. By the time we shouldered heavy packs, the ripples on the lakes told of the fortuitous shift in the weather. The approach to Winchester peak was mostly on trail; snow in intermittent patches eventually drove my companions to change out of tennis shoes or chacos to their boots. One higher, more solid, steeper and longer patch of snow suggested we all don the crampons.

From the summit, the views were hit and miss. While we lunched, I logged the lookout guest book and took out Carter's map of the North Cascades to orient myself in the fog. A patch of sucker hole sunlight hit a glaciated slope on Shuksan. We could make out the basin we intended to ski and traced a continuous route in the air. Cass dropped in first, bending the knee with style. Allyson faired well in the upper section and then was glad she wore the ski pants for her head first slow motion slide towards a rock run out.  Back on those free heel feet she continued to make great turns, a member of "Team Carter." The snow was buttery and sweet. A few larger rocks were certainly attempting to make an appearance yet we danced around them well. As we made our final turns, the weather seemed to make its turn too. The sun heated things up for our climb to the saddle which required a bit of shwacking. Marmots beeped in the basin below and the "thunder cats" were on the loose in the brush above. After Allyson's Silver Star shwack fest, I somehow knew that we'd be following her through her beloved terrain.  We traversed along the Low Pass trail, Canada's peaks waving clear hellos. Twin Lakes glimmered in the late afternoon sun. We were warmed by the whole day: the company, the good turns, the loop trail, and the better than expected weather.