Alaskans refer to “termination dust” when speaking of the first fall
snowfall. It’s that “dust coating of snow that appears on the mountain tops in
fall, signaling the end of summer.”
Looking at Mount Hood looming before me, I can’t help but be reminded of
that definition, and the late fall trip that Andy and I spent in Alaska,
looking at termination dust on the peaks of the Alaska Range. I love, love,
love fall. Truly, my favorite season.
Technically, it isn’t fall, yet.
But the mountain doesn’t know that (and clearly doesn’t care). Last night, it
snowed on me.
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| Good morning, September (Skyscape tent by Six Moon Designs) |
TOP SPUR TO WY’EAST
Mount Hood Wilderness, Oregon
~16 miles, ~2100’ elevation gain
With the new house purchase and projects (and it just being HOT), I’ve partaken
in very little outdoor time this summer (negative note). Interestingly enough,
almost all my forays out since June have been backpacking trips (positive note).
Historically, September is a lovely month in the PNW and great backpacking
weather; this year, though, summer came to a screeching and abrupt halt with
the arrival of rains and dropping temps. So although I was eyeballing the
forecast warily, I was determined to get out and see where it would take me.
I probably texted Andy three different itineraries before I left the
house. A fourth itinerary change arrived in his inbox during a gas station stop
when I saw Mount Hood was visible from I-84. Just couldn’t seem to make up my
mind this morning but, upon seeing the mountain, I knew I needed the alpine.
The question was, how tolerable was the mountain going to be of me? Timberline
Lodge said 40°….
Part of the reason for this trip though was a gear test. I’m testing
limits and learning my comfort zone still and nothing, nothing tests your gear and your backup plans like poor
weather and a mountain. So, here goes nothing…
With my Brooks Range Tension 30
(<= LOVE that thing) still with the company for a repair, I rented a Six
Moon Designs Skyscape tent to see how I liked it. I’ve been looking for a
solo tent for a while in an effort to drop additional weight from my pack, and
I’d heard good things about this company. I’ve been slowly shedding the weight
from my pack (still working on the sleeping bag/filter weight issue), and the
Skyscape could potentially drop another 15 oz off the weight.
It was 49° at the Top Spur trailhead as I began the 1300’, three mile
steady climb up to the Timberline Trail. I wasn’t sure how far I would go this
day- it all depended on weather and how I was feeling- and the plan remained
loose. Two nights, maybe a base camp and some day hiking, maybe changing sites.
Really, I just wanted to be out.
The last time I backpacked
in this area, it was midsummer, full of bugs and wildflowers. The mountain
wears a different face in the fall, no less beautiful, no less colorful, no
less intriguing. There is an intimate sort of beauty to the slow wind down for
the long, winter slumber.
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| breaking out of the forest- Hood, Sandy glacier (snow dragon caves visible) and Yocum Ridge |
At the turnoff to McNeil, I decided to press on, see how far my feet
felt like carrying me. Up here, past the 5000’ mark, it was distinctly cooler,
the sky threatening and grey, Hood playing a game of peek-a-boo with the
clouds. I continued the up and down ramble along the Timberline Trail,
leapfrogging with numerous groups hiking round the mountain.
(Someday I’ll do the whole thing.
Somehow, I never get around to it. Perhaps it’s finally time to remedy that.)
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| fall colors on the Timberline Trail |
Stream crossings though- they always make me nervous. And Hood has them
aplenty. McGee and the Ladd proved uneventful (not always the case) but there
are certainly bigger waters on Hood.
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| crossing McGee creek |
Just before Cairn Basin, I enter the Dollar Lake burn zone, absolutely
eerie in the flat light. When I was last here two years ago, the undercover
still hadn’t quite started to recover and many of the trees remained charred
and black. Now, silvered snags greeted me and evidence of the summer’s
wildflower explosion remained, testimony to the recovery of burn zones.
Beautiful in a stark, surreal fashion.
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| Dollar Lake fire transition zone |
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| the burn is spotty in Cairn Basin |
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| the Ladd crossing is always interesting |
I still consider the north side of Hood, burns or not (Gnarl Ridge Fire
2009 and Dollar Lake Fire 2011), to be some of the most glorious wanderings on
my backyard mountain playground. There is raw, spectacular, untamed feel to the
wilderness here. Past Cairn Basin, I wandered into Wy’east Basin, one of my
go-to places of the heart on Hood. I made the decision to stay here, maybe day
hike up Barrett Spur the next morning.
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| Hood peek-a-boo from Cairn Basin |
True to mountain form, just as I found a suitable low-impact site in
the trees, the mountain decided sleet was in order. Yippee.
I will say this about the Skyscape- it sets up fast and easy. I was
concerned it wouldn’t feel too stable (some trekking pole designs feel
downright flimsy), but it felt sturdy, was easy to stake out and was nicely
roomy for a one person tent inside. And in Pepper and I went. She was done with
the cold and immediately commandeered the sleeping bag.
I have no idea what the temperature was that evening, but whatever it
was it dropped quickly and with a vengeance. The wind wasn’t the worst I’ve
been in, but it was by far the coldest night in the backcountry I have experienced.
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| (I feel cold just looking at this) |
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| fall colors in Wy'east Basin |
Oh, and upon trying to filter water for the evening meal, my water
filter completely crapped out on me. And I had no backup plan. Yippee. (<= poor planning, Amanda, poor planning).
I still had about 1.5L with me, so not all was lost, but I forewent dinner that
evening to spare water. I was also surprisingly not hungry, perhaps due to how
cold I was.
Which is also something I continue trying to figure out. I was wearing gear I use to snowshoe in- some
bombproof Mammut softshells with a thermal underlayer, a Smartwool shirt over
another underlayer, gloves, hat and a puffy. Still, it took some time
completely buried in my 15° bag (while spooning a grumbling dog) to warm up.
I was pleased with the tent though. Also in contrast to my previous
experience with a single wall tent, the Skyscape vents really well. I had nice
airflow, which contributed to low condensation buildup (not none, just
minimal). It had been raining all night, and the tent pitch remained taut, not
bowing like I expected it to.
At about 3:30 am I woke up absolutely freezing and needing to pee. (Ah,
backpacking). The tent felt slightly stuffy, and my initial impression was that
the rain had finally gotten the better of the fly, finally succeeding in
shellacking it to the netting.
Nope. Turns out, it was a nice half inch to inch layer of our infamous
Cascade Concrete. Whoopsies. That will weigh any tent down.
I stepped out the tent to pitch blackness, completely clear skies,
brilliant starlight, and a white world. Freezing and positively breathtaking.
All regrets, all discomfort vanished. Ah, backpacking.
I spent some time beating the snow off the Skyscape and the pitch
immediately rebounded. Truthfully, I was impressed that a trekking pole tent
had remained that stable with that much weight on it. My old Nemo probably would have
fallen on me. I watched the stars for awhile before I got too cold and the
clouds came rolling back in, obliterating the sky. Back to the sleeping bag,
snugged in and hunkered down for a few more hours.
In the morning, still too cold, I waited until the sun crested the
horizon before finally getting out of the tent. The clouds were high with a
dim, intermittent sun, but the mountain was out. I determined I *did* have
enough water for coffee (those who know me know
nothing happens without my
morning coffee), but the lack of water, ability to filter combined with new
snow kaboshed my plans for a hike up Barrett Spur. I just didn’t have the
energy or ambition for it this morning. I had enough water to hike out, but in
the interest of playing it smart, I just decided it was a head back home kind
of day.
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| Hood with new snow (Wy'east Basin) |
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| Rainier & Adams from camp, Dollar Lake burn zone below |
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| brrrrr |
Going back the way I came, the trail was eerily silent and beautiful
with its new coat of snow. Unlike a lot of people, I don’t tend to mind
visiting the same trail twice or out-and-back hikes. I always find a new
perspective. Oddly enough, although I had originally wanted two nights on the
trail, I found myself content and relaxed in the way that wilderness only gives
me. A sense of space in my head, a calming of the chatter. Funny how when the
world narrows down to immediate realities, everything else seems small.
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| snow pug |
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| until next time, Hood |
