Jeff Smoot's website says "Everyone who climbs this peak says it is one of the best alpine scrambles in the North Cascades, with indescribably awesome views." He nails the desciption of the views, but in my opinion, the scramble wasn't much, certainly nothing like the fabulous North Twin scramble.

I tried to do this about a year ago, but when I went, it was too cold and icy, and I'd brought the Mountain Westie, so we stopped at the southern of the Yellow Astor buttes, and called it good. This time, with a unexpectedly good weekend, too short notice to scare up a partner, I decided to go back and strike Tomyhoi off my tick list.

Naming note: According to Fred B. in his discussion of Mt. Slesse in the Red Book, tomahi means 'high place' in a Native American tongue.

Two and a half hours from Seattle to the trailhead. There were half a dozen vehicles there already, and I headed up, in long pants and a fleece jacket against the cold, at about 7:20 AM. I got a couple of photos of Mt Baker in the sunrise; unfortunately, Mt. Shuksan isn't visible until further up.

Mt Baker at sunrise.

The hike goes pretty well; the trail is well used and well maintained. Got to the top of the southern Yellow Astor Butte again, and followed the trail north, until it became obvious that I wasn't heading to Tomyhoi at all.

Before you start heading up Yellow Astor Butte proper, there's a trail which splits off to the left, down into the lake area. That's the trail you take to get to Tomyhoi. I missed it, and so I ended up having to descend down the steep hillside between the two buttes, and cross over to the ridge heading up to Tomyhoi. Since I hadn't followed the trail, I chose the wrong trail down there, and ended up on a trail that petered out after passing a tumbledown log cabin, complete with a sign warning that the National Antiquities Act says to leave it alone.

My 1981 edition of the Red Book says "There is an emergency shelter cabin in trees on the saddle separating North Butte Yellow Astor from the Tomyhoi ridge." It appears that this information is outdated.

So I asked a guy who was camped there with his family and he pointed me towards the correct trail. It's not difficult to find, and you could make it without following the trail, probably, but it's nice not to trample the heather unnecessarily.

But the views were spectacular. It took all my selfcontrol to keep from burning off every exposure of film I had on the hillsides colored with yellow, orange, and green, Mt. Baker and Mt. Shuksan looming to the south, and all the little lakes, crystal clear and smooth, reflecting the sky and the mountains.

My son has a child's reading book called Puddles which has a line about "pieces of sky on the ground." That's what was scattered around; you could see the ponds and lakes (tarns? lakelets?) from the bright blue glistening from the hillsides.

So I followed the trail, up and down and up and down, stopping for a snack by a small pond with a skin of ice floating on top. Frigid, but refreshing to splash on my face.

The other advantage of late September hikes is that the bugs are gone. No mosquitoes, no black flies. Die, suckers!

Eventually the trail gets up to where you can see the ridge that leads to the summit horn. And yes, it does look more intimidating than a class 3 climb. Fortunately, I've read other accounts that said the same thing. And if it was that hard, there wouldn't be such a well-used trail up there, right?

So I followed the ridge up, and up, and came to... thin air. There's a 30 foot gap in the ridge, with approximately vertical sides, and no obvious way around. Sheesh. So I looked around, backtracked, and tried to find a way down the left side. I couldn't find anything.

To the right is the Tomyhoi glacier, and there were some melted out footprints on it. So I descended and headed out following the footprints. Unfortunately, I'd cached my ski poles half an hour back, not needing them for the rock, and I had no crampons, so even the moderate slope was tricky in my hiking shoes. I got about halfway around the summit horn, where the footprints stopped and the slope got steeper and icier, before turning back. Sheesh.

Back up on the ridge, I poked and pushed, feeling a little like a terrier looking for a way under a fence. Finally I descended down the left side and scrambled across the chossy, crumbly slope, and up onto the ridge on the other side. Where, the trail was evident again.

The steep summit tower. As others have observed, it looks harder than it is.

The remainder of the climb was uneventful. There is a steep, sort of exposed section, a sort of a face that you climb up, then it's just an easy scramble to the top. Where there's a summit log, but not enough wind to fly my kite.

I called home to tell Peter I was up here, and was surprised to get both good reception, and analog reception! A coincidence? It was staticky, but otherwise fine.

Tom at the summit, Mt. Larribee in the background.

As I was finishing up, taking a couple of photos and having a drink (my small pack doesn't fit a hydration bladder, and I miss that) I saw some people crossing over the glacier. It looked like they were fixing to climb up a steep section, one where from below I thought I might be able to get back to the ridge, and I yelled down to them that there was a bergschrund that they couldn't get across. They yelled back that they were traversing to the north end of the horn, which they said was the normal route. Maybe, but the route I took is the one Beckey describes, and there certainly were bits of well-worn path along it.

Climbers (and their dog) on the glacier below.

So, I thought I'd descend down that way, to see how it was, thinking I could use their footprints to get across the glacier. Then I slipped, and knocked some fragments of rock down onto the glacier. It didn't look like I'd hit anyone, but I got swore at, and figured that maybe I should just go back the way I'd come.

For having such a hard time getting over, the return was a piece of cake. It felt like I got back down the face and through the gap much more easily than I'd gone up. Back at the base of the ridge, I ran into that family I'd talked to earlier, and told them what I'd learned about the climb options, and headed back down, retrieving my poles.

If anything, it was prettier heading down than up. You're looking back at the foliage in all its glory, and the vertiginous dropoff of the north Yellow Astor Butte, and it's just spectacular. There were lots more people once I got to the lakes, and the trail back down was even more crowded. It's a well-used trail, not as well-used as mount Si, or even Cascade Pass, but it's a hell of a lot prettier than either one.

A marmot, plumped up for his winter nap.

Hiker relaxing at a tarn, Mt. Shuksan looming in the background.

On the descent, I passed (barely) a family that had been camping up there. There were three kids, the youngest must have been just six or seven, all loaded up with packs, none of the kids complaining. Pretty impressive.

In the fall once the rains have started (and we've had a LOT of rain the last month) the mushrooms come out, and there were a lot of them all down the trail. It does make the hike through the trees more interesting.

Then the switchbacks through the slide alder, the last glimses of Mt. Baker and the car. And the drive back to Seattle. It took me about nine hours, car-to-car, but I did take the tourist route, and spent a lot of time screwing around trying to figure out how to get up onto the summit horn. So, it's quite a reasonable one-day outing.

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