A Lot Of Gain, A Lot Of Pain, Green Mountain, 4.19.15
The North Cascades recorded their lowest snowpack in recorded history this winter which reeked havoc on the ski resorts. On the plus side, there has been so little snow, many trailheads have opened up much earlier than usual. One such trailhead is the Green Mountain Trail in the Glacier Peak Wilderness.
This trail is off of the Suiattle River Road and you would be correct if you assumed that the road follows the Suiattle River. This river finds its headwaters high on Glacier Peak and is notorious for major floods. There has been so many problems with flooding that the road has rarely been open during the last 20 years due to road damage from washouts.
Bridgit and I first climbed Green Mountain in '93 but the road closed soon thereafter until 2005. Then I climbed it again with my friend Bob but that trip was shrouded in clouds and no views were seen that day. That same winter the road was closed off again and never reopened until this last November.
Since Neighbor Greg had never gazed upon the superlative views this summit has to offer we decided yesterday would be a perfect opportunity. It was gloriously warm with bluebird skies. We knew there would be snow on the upper slopes but we were optimistic that it would be consolidated enough to not need snowshoes.
Two hours from the house to the trailhead and we were off and running (well, walking). The first part of the hike was totally snow free as we climbed a ridge in cool forest. Soon we popped out onto a wide open meadow face where the trail made easy switchbacks up another ridge. Views expanded with each switchback. White Chuck Mountain poked up and then the incomparable Glacier Peak came into view.
White Chuck Mountain
Glacier Peak
Soon we rounded a ridge and we began to encounter patches of snow on the trail. We put on our gaiters and slathered up with more sunscreen knowing we would be on snow for the remainder of the climb. Not much later we got to the top of the hill where we had a full view of our destination.
Green Mountain
There is a lookout on the summit. To get there we first had to descend about 200' to a snow filled basin dissected by a creek. The creek was really cool because it had carved a channel through the snowpack about eight feet deep. It looked like a mini version of Canyonlands. It also could have been the end of the hike but thankfully someone had previously chopped steps down to the creek on both sides.
Channel carved by the creek
Once we got past the creek the snow got a bit deeper. Luckily there was a path of previous boot prints and the snow was solid enough that if you stayed on the trail you didn't sink in too far.
Snow route through the trees
Final snow slope after breaking out of the trees
After a bit of climbing through forest out of the creek basin we came to where the terrain completely opened up into a vast meadow system completely covered in snow. The summer trail gradually switchbacks up the meadows to the eastern ridge and then tightropes along the ridge to the summit. However, snow climbers seem to be a hardier bunch and rather than bother with a bunch of tedious switchbacks, the winter route went straight up the steep side of the mountain in a beeline for the summit. This section was probably around 1,200' of straight up vertical on solid snow with the sun baking every step so you felt like you were climbing in a reflector oven. I basically got into a rhythm of left foot, right foot, move poles and repeat. It was slow going but steady. This is when things took a turn for the worse.
About two thirds of the way up this slope my right leg seized up like an oil-less engine and a wave of excruciating pain seared through my upper leg. After doing everything I could to get it to subside I hollered ahead to Greg to keep going since he was so close to the summit. I would either continue, wait or start down and he could easily catch up to me. Luckily the pain eased and after testing the leg I decided to carefully and slowly continue. Things went okay until I was only about a hundred feet below the lookout and my other leg cramped up big time. I had to take about ten minutes just to work that kink out and then it made no sense not to go literally a few more feet and I made it to the lookout.
I knew sitting down would not be a good thing so I stayed standing and had some lunch, drank more fluids and took some photos. Speaking of which, the views from this spot are as good as they get. Many of the most rugged, wild peaks in the state live here and in particular, the peaks of the Ptarmigan Traverse which is out of my league but an incredible route through and amongst these glorious peaks.
Dome Peak
Mount Buckindy
Sloan Peak
Bonanza Peak (the highest non-volcanic peak in the state)
Mount Chaval with Mount Baker behind
Greg with Glacier Peak
After about a half hour on the summit we knew we'd better start the arduous trek back to the car. I was extremely concerned about my legs and sure enough, within a minute or two of leaving they both seized up again. We still had to get down a very long, very steep slope, over a creek up the snow over a ridge and back down the trail to the car. I couldn't see calling a chopper out for a stupid leg cramp but I also wasn't sure I was going to make it any further. I tried going very slowly using the plunge step method of allowing my heel to sink slightly into the snow. My poles were incredibly helpful but no matter what I did every few steps my legs would cramp again. Another option that would have been great was to glissade down the entire slope. A glissade is where you sit on your butt and literally slide down. Usually you use an ice axe in case you want to slow down or stop by rolling over, digging in your toes and planting your axe in the snow. This wasn't really necessary on this slope because it had a wide clear flat runout but the minute I sat down and tried it my legs screamed at me and I had to stand up to get the cramping to subside. So I gingerly made my way down the steep slope. Several dozen cramps later we made it to where the snow stopped. From here it was smooth trail back down to the car and my legs handled that fine. Today my legs feel like they've been run over by a truck.
So despite having been exercising and having already gone on a couple of hikes, I bit off more than my legs were ready for. I don't think the distance and elevation were as much to blame as the extra muscle work it takes to hike on snow. So I feel very fortunate to have made it back in one piece and I will learn from this as I plan my future hikes.
One last look at Glacier Peak