Mt. Pilchuck Ascent
Jan. 21, 2004
~ Above The Clouds ~

Mt. Rainier © Ken James McLeod

In the evening the earth was poised to meet the rose-sky. A blanket of
clouds stretched over the valleys, seemingly spread from Puget Sound off in the
distance. And Mt. Rainier (Tahoma) stood triumphantly in watch as if to be
declaring, "I rule this land, not man, not beast, nor man's God." Humbled
however, by the power and awe of it all, I submit that I am only just a simple man
like the many -- drifting to and fro...

With the weather being cold lately, I kept hearing the mountain (Pilchuck) calling may way for me to climb it again, so I packed my gear in the truck the night before for an early start.

In the early fogbound morn I headed for the mountain.  Upon arriving, I found it to be a crisp-clear blue-sky type day brewing.  As I climbed attaining elevation (the North Face Route) all the major peaks and mountains were bathed in the morning sunlight sticking out like sore thumbs cloaked in winter-white snow:  the Twin Sisters Range, Mt. Baker, Shuksan, Glacier Peak, and Mt. Rainier, as well as the sub peaks like Three Fingers, Liberty, Big Four, Vesper, Morning Star, Del Campo, Forgotten, Sloan, Pugh, and all the rest.  And about as far as the eye could see, the snowcapped pinnacles dotted the horizon inland to the Northeast.  Westerly, a magnificent blanket of clouds resembling that of a giant's pillow, covered the entire Puget sound area and its cities.  The Olympic Mountains rose above it all.

At hand, beneath my feet, the mountain Pilchuck was froze solid!  Only a skiff of about a 1/2 inch of snow was soft, the rest was hardpack and mostly ice.  There would be no post-holing today, I thought.  With ice ax in hand and crampons attached to the boots, I continued up the mountain absorbed in the beauty of the day.  Eventually I attained the saddle, and then the summit peak, signing the registry around noon. 

Nearby, two fellows who had come up the Trail Route using snowshoes with claws, sat enjoying the view.  We chatted for a bit about how "glorious" the weather was. Soon, after taking some pictures, they departed leaving me alone atop the mountain.  We wished each other well.  A few hours passed soaking in the view just loafing about the top (5,324') before I bid farewell to the summit and commenced back down the route I came up.  Below the saddle, I ran into a fellow named Steve, who was attempting to gain the summit -- wishing he had crampons, so he told me.  He seemed in good shape, had an ice ax strapped to his pack, and sported ski poles for grip.  He ask how it was and I told him he should be able to make it.  But cautioned, telling him about a fellow I had seen fall about 40 feet, hitting a tree, and then falling into a hole just above the saddle about a year ago.  When I got to the guy, he had no broken bones but was pretty shook up, even had lost his ice ax which I found.  At any rate, I was thankful for the crampons I always carry during any climbs on snow or ice, to use where they are needed. 

Having had good the exercise, got the 360 degree "superb" view I had sought, plus breathing in the crisp-clean mountain air of the day, I felt content, fulfilled!  I retreated therefrom the mountain and left it to the creatures of the night shift . . .

KJM

(McPilchuck)

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