I have assumed that since Mt. Pugh has a trail to the summit, that it couldn’t possibly be that tough. Well, I’ve gotten in trouble for underestimating things before, and I did again.

Heidi and Peter were out of town, so this was not an optional climbing day, but a mandatory one, particularly since I spent most of yesterday digging out juniper and running it through the chipper-shredder. I read that John Wesley Powell, the first guy to run the Colorado River, identified juniper as an attractive landscaping plant. Well, he's got something to answer for.

I got up around 6:30, and spent an hour trying to get out of the house, packing, printing out my climbing list, and printing out the map from Topo, all things I should have done last night. I wanted to get a latte, but you can’t really do that around here; I stopped at the QFC on Aurora Ave, but they don’t do that, so I got some apples and pop-tarts (the perfect food(tm).)

I stopped for Max and we got to the base of the trailhead at around 9:45 or so. Fortunately, I had that trail park pass in my glove compartment from last year, so I was able to use it today. I got my boots on and got ready, and headed up the road. Two years ago, the road up to the true trailhead was shut, and you had to walk up it. This time it was opened, but I went ahead and walked anyhow, figuring it couldn’t be any big deal. A dumb decision, it cost over half an hour each direction.

The day was warm and beautiful, another blue-sky climbing day. I had figured that there would be dozens of people there; we passed at least ten cars at the Mt. Dickerman trailhead and clumps of cars at other trailheads, but we were the only ones here. Kind of odd, but I like it that way.

We got to Lake Metan by 10:30, I think, hung out there for ten minutes, then got to the base of the snow slope an hour after that. I stopped to put on my gaiters and get out my ice ax, and Max played in the snow. He slides down on his side, rubbing the side of his face into the snow with his mouth open scooping snow in. he does love the snow.

The trip was kind of slow up the slope; the snow was steep in places, and kind of soft, and Max broke through quite often. A couple of times he cut in front of me and stopped, his way of telling me he needs a rest.

There was a lot more snow than last time, which was gratifying; with all the press about el nino, I was afraid that it would be bare already. I couldn’t remember what time of the year we’d done this before, I thought it was about the same time.

Trip note: poptarts and Gatorade together are just too sweet.

The ascent to Stujack pass took quite a long time. I’m not really in as good of shape as I’d thought, or it just takes a different set of muscles to climb in steep snow than it does to bicycle. I was pretty glad to get to the pass, figuring that it was just a couple hundred vertical feet to the summit from there.

Well, it’s not. From there, you ascend a nearly vertical snow wall about thirty feet high. Max just couldn’t do it. I hadn’t put my crampons on, reasoning that I didn’t want to be able to go where Max couldn’t, though the climb up to Stujack pass would have been somewhat easier with them, and I could have used them even more on this part of the climb. As it was, I got to the top of the steepest part of the wall, and pressed on, figuring that Max would find a way. Part of the way up I took what looked like an easy route up a snow berschrund, which narrowed down alarmingly.

At the top of the steep wall, it flattened out considerably, to around 45 degrees. I found it much easier to go on all fours, using my ice ax in the French style in one hand. In this manner, I made it to the top of the slope without much trouble, and got to where I could see the rest of the route.

It is much longer than I’d expected. You follow a ridge for a few hundred yards, then there’s more steep climbing probably two hundred vertical yards. Based on the way I’d been going, I figured it would take me over an hour to summit, and I was kind of tired already. I would have had to walk along that ridge on a very steep slope, maybe 80 degrees, the whole way, and that sounded both dangerous and fatiguing. It was already after 3:00, and I didn’t know what Max was up to. I rather figured he’d be asleep in the snow, but I didn’t know for sure. So, I turned around and headed back down, realizing too late that I should have snapped a photo from my high spot. The summit is quite a beautiful view up there.

When I found Max, I was very glad I hadn’t pressed on. He’d followed me up into the bergschrund, and was stuck there. He’d been yipping for help. Had I been gone the two hours it would have taken me to summit, rest, and return, he’d have been sitting in the snow, in the shade, for all that time, and might have been in serious condition.

I descended down the snow wall rather than following my tracks down the bergschrund, calling to Max to come down with me. He was pretty worried and fretted, but finally came down off there to the pass. He was very glad to see me. He stayed right up close to me, so close that as we started the descent, it was a problem. He went down ahead of me, but then wouldn’t continue, I had to cross in a rather hazardous way around him.

We glissaded part of the way down, and I managed to put a little hole in my new nylon climbing pants with my ice ax, but didn’t loose my keys or wallet, which is really what matters.

When we got to the lake, there was a very pleasant couple there, who really liked Max. They want a dog, and are trying to decide what kind of dog to get. They had tried Mt. Pilchuck, but he didn’t have the boots for it, so they hiked up here instead. It’s a nice little lake, very picturesque. We lingered for about ten minutes chatting with them, then headed on down the trail. We ran into another couple of guys, and finally got to the car after a considerably longer walk than I’d wanted.