Month: October 2011

When Shannon and I decided to take a nice Monday furlough day and go for a hike, we were in search of fall color and found it at Maple Pass Loop hike.  Shannon had beta from friends that there was a fair amount of snow at the top so we would be wise to take the steep, slippery side up and the gentle side back down.  We also brought slip-on traction devices for our boots.

Naturally we were so excited about getting going that once at the trail head we didn't bother to look at the map to see where the junction for the steep side up to Maple Pass was located.  So we hiked all the way up to the junction to Lake Ann before we realized that we were not hiking our planned route.  Shannon's map was so old that it didn't have the actual loop trail.  Mine did and the junction was way down at the beginning of the trail head.

Back down we went.  In our defense (there's always a defense) someone had posted a handwritten sign at the beginning of the trail pointing to the right-hand side of the junction as the way to Maple Pass.  It is a way, but not the way we wanted to go.

The way we wanted to go actually followed a paved trail to Rainy Lake, which then forked uphill just before the lake. The lower part of the trail, which is typical for the Cascades, is fairly steep then levels out somewhat up higher.  Before it leveled out we reached the snowline and donned our traction devices.  The trail was quite slippery from weekend tramping down of the snow and it wasn't really warming up enough to melt and become soft with easier traction.

The views were stunning, the snow got deeper but the path was well defined.  Near the pass we flushed a ptarmigan, which was well camouflaged in the snow.  Maple Pass at 6600' was warm enough in spite of at least a foot of snow that we could eat our lunches and stay warm.

Then down we went, glad to have traction on our feet because the steep parts of the down trail were really quite slippery.  The trail loops down to Heather Pass, which is the junction of the trail that leads to climbers' paths to Corteo Peak (summited in 2006) and Black Peak (summited in 2009). And down we went to below the snowline and back out.

Our total time, even with the bonus miles, was about 5 1/2 hours, including one long-ish break to enjoy the view and have a snack and a liesurely lunch.  Our total mileage was probably 10 or so, depending on how far the Lake Ann junction is above the trailhead.

Here are the rest of the pictures.

I apologize for that title but I didn't know what else to call this blog post.  I've mentioned before that between September 2010 and February 2011 three of my mentors died doing what they love.  Some people may find comfort in that.  I don't and consequently am having a little trouble with closure, mostly because I'm pretty sure that my mentors didn't really want to die the way they did.

We can't all can't go peacefully in our sleep.  So do we live out our days until we can longer walk without assistance? Need reminders to eat meals? Have to wear leak protection?  Neither is ideal but I guess I'd rather be darn good and ready than to have a rock break loose while I was clinging to it, an avalanche sweep me down a gully, a cornice collapse beneath my while I was taking in the view.  That's it; I'd rather be darn good and ready.  Tired of changing my pants, tired of having to take my walker or cane, tired of wondering whether I am supposed to go to dinner or breakfast, tired of wondering what is next.

Mark Jenkins, climber and author writes, "…just to be clear, there's precious little consolation in the notion that someone died doing what he loved.  When friends are dead, they're not here.  For themselves, for their families, for thier buddies.  Forever."   Amen, Mark, amen.

Having friends/mentors die doing what they love, changes people, at least some people.  As it should.  I know I'm taking fewer risks, second-guessing myself when I'm uncomfortable.  This is healthy and safe.  I'm willing to take my time to get where I need to go, keep learning the skills and relearning them.  I don't want anyone I care about to have precious little consolation.  I'd rather squeeze every rich drop out of this life and have everyone, including myself, be ready for the next step.  Whatever that is.