Loowit Trail, Mt. St. Helens
July 20-21, 2011

A couple weeks had gone by, giving me time to reflect before our second attempt around Helens.  Oddly, my opinion of how things went had not changed from the last attempt.  Stupidly, I forgot my camera and only had my iPhone for the crappy pictures I took.

Things started the same as our last trip with the only difference being the road blocked by the SWAT team as they executed a drug-bust sting operation.  As I do not trust weathermen, we packed ready for just about anything.  We shouldered our packs with Windy Pass being the goal for the day.  We arrived at the trail head late, so Amber's feet would settle on actually making it all the way around to Toutle before the sun fell below the western hills.

During our Loowit approach, I noticed considerably less snow on her flanks than a couple weeks ago, but the smallish mountain still held quite the blanket.  The air was crisp, with random rushes of super-cooled air falling from high up the snow covered worm flows.

We zoomed past the lake before huffing up the final climb to Loowit.  With the precarious snow bridges melted away, the walking was easy and quick with the snow though the woods now several feet lower.  Amber asked where, once past Windy Pass, could we camp.  The answer was simple as there was no camping in the northern blast area.  It was Windy Pass or the risk of Toutle.

I pointed out our route from last time as we flew by at three miles per hour.  Although the ceiling was low, visibility was very good and it kept the sun from scorching us as we fumbled across remaining winter snow fingers.

We turned eastwardly and saw more snow than I had hoped.  The trail was buried in areas, but still navigational.  I shuttered at the thought of the south side and started analyzing escape routes in case we got stuck.

Amber was in great spirits singing to herself while pacing a hundred feet behind me.  With shoestring just ahead, I picked up the pace to scout a route before my little dynamo caught up to me.

I could not shake her so I stopped and did some trail maintenance while she caught up.  She helped me kick rocks and place poles back upright before we set off again, heading for the berry fields.

The fields were gloomy, but still incredibly beautiful.  We both fantasized what the area would taste like once the ripening began in another month.  I asked Amber how she felt and received the quick reply of "awesome!"

We hit some of the bigger snow fields just as we got a break in the clouds.  The intense contrast in feeling the burning rays of the sun with the frequent, chilly breezes off the fields was surreal.   I simply could not allow us to rush through the eastern section while the sun was finally poking out.

I threw down my pack and picked a place to lay down, trying to avoid piles of deer scat.  Amber added some snow to her Platy before lying next to me in the sun.  Neither one of us were tired and we both pondered actually staying the night at the pass.

Twenty minutes of being lazy brought about anticipation before we shouldered our packs with Shoestring Creek rapidly approaching.  I took advantage of the easy walking to ponder one of the subject I had itching the back of my skull as of late; the balance I had at home.

We crossed more snow fields without any drama as they were fairly soft and easy to kick steps into.  The weather was getting better by the hour, but it meant things were heating up.  Luckily, water was in abundance, everywhere.

We took the opportunity to play with every chance we got.  With cold butts we slid down field after field hollering all the way down, scaring the local wildlife.

Amber asked again how hard the creek crossing would be, but I could not give her a solid answer.  I had been different every year I have been out here.  She took a deep breath before assuring me she was ready for anything.

We approached the gully as Amber let out a "WOW!  This is really huge, but not so difficult."  - My sentiments exactly.  We carefully tiptoed along the peeling top edge before kicking steps down the easiest section of the snow.

Once down to the first bench, I spied the trail leading out.  A trail, simple and easy.  A couple years ago I had no trail at all and sighed with relief.  Our trip was going better than planned, but I still had a nagging feeling in the back of my skull that the south side would be out of reach.

We fumbled our way across the muddy creek, Amber choosing her path and me picking mine.

I glanced down to see all the snow hiding the creek.  I shuttered at the thought of how deep some of the bridges were, but was happy we did not need to utilize any.  Amber questioned how soon our next big obstacle would be.  The only one I could think of was the Toutle.  She smiled while slogging her way out of the gully.

Pine creek was our next effort and we took out time getting there.  We smelled the flowers.  We sang songs from church.  We looked at funny rocks, but eventually had to face the unproblematic challenge.

Other than another slide (not planned) down vertical snow, things could not be better.  I took a moment to reflect on the balance at home, but as we had to get moving I had to put my thoughts away.  Thoughtless, I simply stared at the mass of Mt. Adams, instead.

We came upon Pine Creek which also held snow, but the snow this time was too frozen to kick steps.  While trying to kick, I slipped and accelerated into the scree.  When it was Amber's turn, I had to catch her at the bottom before the long fall into the gully.

Another creek, another cold butt.  Amber was actually enjoying the glissading as long as the angle was not too steep.   You see, during our last trip to Goat Rocks, while crossing a precarious snow field at 50 degrees, she had an uncontrolled slide.  She was not hurt in the least, but mentally she had yet to regain any self confidence, until now.  What once was fear was now a focused caution.

With the snow gone from the trail as far as the eye could see, it was easy strolling once again.  I took a few moments to revisit my thoughts of home life and the balance I had.  Was it a good, healthy balance, and for whom?  Did I want to start including someone else within the balance, or was it all enough?  I snapped out of my trance as a marmot came flying past me-the first one I have ever seen on the west side.  I stared at the pudgy rodent until Amber caught up with me again.

The junction to the Ape Canyon trail came and went as we began rounding the northeastern section of the mountain.  Amber was starting to slow, so I mentally planned a lunch at an overlook of Ape Canyon itself.  The wind picked up, but the mild temperatures made it more pleasant than not.

As we made our way towards our lunch spot, I mentally rushed back to my thought of balance.  My thinking ended quickly as I concluded there was no way to include anything into the balance without becoming a conformist.  I have seen too many times in my many years people conforming to what is considered the norm.  they equate the norm as happy.  I see many lose who they are, inside and out.  I was there, them, and hated nearly every moment of living.  But now I am here, with my best friend, sharing a time that cannot be duplicated while watching TV or with a baby sitter while I indulge my own selfish desires.  This way of thinking is not the norm-far from it.  But once off the laid out tracks of social living, the mind is free to wander.

We reached our spot and threw down our packs.  Amber gathered water from the spring that was normally a trickle, but was now flowing strong.  She was happy and so was I.

I boiled some Rice and Sides while chewing on jerky.  I reached over my shoulder and pointed out the pass to Amber.  My phone displayed the hour of 1:15, leaving us with a lot of daylight left.  I told her if we were going to camp it would have to be somewhere within our line of sight.  She summed it all up in one word; Toutle.

She slurped down the entire pot of rice, leaving me dumbfounded.  The child was actually eating more than I did during my solo trips.  I pondered about whether or not I brought enough food, but just decided I would let her eat the entire bag if need be.

We reached the bottom of the pass and had to take a snow finger to access the wash.  Once on the wash, it was a steady climb to the pass. 

On the other side of the pass, we ran into a couple hikers that had hiked out from Climber's Bivouac.  I felt my heart sink to my gut as they explained their counter-clockwise Loowit attempt, not making it more than a quarter mile.  The trail was non-existent. 

We headed up towards the falls and lost the trail.  I felt stupid, but was just over concentrating our escape once across the Toutle.  I climbed to what seemed the right ridge on the map, but it was gone. washed out.  We forded the knee-deep, swift water and soon got cliffed out before turning back and fording yet again below a smaller, yet stunning, waterfall.  We wandered around for fifteen minutes looking for a safe way down before I finally found one.

We forded two more crossings before cleaning out the debris from our runners.  Amber shouted verbally her feelings of how well the trail was marked.

Once again we were lost as the trail across Floating Islands was non-existent.  Where there was once a trail, was now a pretty array of flowers.  We ended up following elk trails before going cross country to regain the trial. 

It was actually a nice hike as the terrain was easy to navigate.  We also stumbled on a herd of five elk which I always sought to see while crossing this section.  Their smelly crap is omnipresent, but they, themselves, remain quite elusive.

Two more herds were spotted by eagle-eyes Amber after crossing Studebaker Creek.  We were getting very close and were still feeling quite well.  We soon crossed our last creek before the Toutle.  A tributary to Castle Creek was flowing liberally as it was covered in a massive field of snow that took kicking deep steps to get up the vertical wall.

The last section was filled with incredible beauty.  The falling sunlight in contrast to the low-slug clouds gave the beautiful, flat fields an inviting, yet ominous sense of existence.

Most of the snow fields, washes, and gullies were behind us.  Amber gawked at the sheer size of the canyon and actually asked if we were heading straight down.   I just chuckled and kept walking towards the sandy hump that hid the true, non-life-threatening way down to the river.

She sang.  The sandy wash felt good on our feet as she sang.  We descended rapidly while she sang the whole way.  This was only the second time I had actually used the trail as most years it just slid down into the canyon.  It was a wonderful surprise. 

We followed old flagging to get us down to the benches.  The first bench down was a little tricky as we had to get on our bellies and then slide down the 80 percent grade for only ten feet before we could grab onto something.  The second bench was easier before the ford across the Toutle.  It only took five minutes before Amber found a choice campsite complete with a fire ring and dry wood.  Up went the tarp and in went our kit.  We dressed for dinner while I boiled up some water I treated from the river. 

We ate in the fading light.  A pre-dinner cocktail of hot chocolate followed by beef stew and vegetables.  After dinner, Amber had plans to read, but those plans were cut short as she drifted off to sleep just minutes after eating.

I woke to pattering, but it was not from condensation.  It took a while for me to wake up and figure out what was making the noise.  The nights sleep was the best I have had in the back country in some time.  There was no condensation in the tarp, but outside it was misting profusely.  I glanced over our dwindling food supply; a Gu-shot, A Rice and Sides meal, two hot cocoas.  I took very few pictures as I did not want to waterlog my only means of an emergency call when in range.

We packed up before I led Amber up the bench to meet with the trail up Crescent Ridge.  Muddy, overgrown, and miserable, the trail showed no signs of snow.  That is, until we neared 4,000 feet, then we ran into a The Wall.  The snow was one to five feet deep and showed no signs of thinning and we were still 200 vertical feet from the top of the trail.  I told Amber to stay put as I scouted around for some signs of a trail.  I sat down to think and let out a 'F' bomb, which did not seem appropriate for the place I was in, but I was worried and rather pissed.  I mean, we are nearing August for crying out loud and it looked just like any other winter day.  It took over a half hour of steady climbing to get up here and now we had to head back down.

Back through the muddy, wet mess to meet up with the Toutle trail that I hoped would be our escape.  Snow.  We ran into almost two contiguous miles of it that required the most difficult route finding I have done in my life.  Once we found the saddle, I discovered very faint tracks of someone who got lost coming in.  Those tracks led us to Road 8123.  We stumbled onto 8123 before finally getting to FR81.  Amber was knackered, but we could not stop as we were being swarmed.  The damned mosquitoes flew into our mouths, eyes, and ears in the pouring rain while wearing our raingear.

Amber announced she was about to fall over and I sprang into action.  Cursing at the mosquitoes, I spied a flat area off FR81 and pitched the tarp in under two minutes.  I threw her inside with our gear and closed it up tight; safe from the bugs.  I boiled up our last meal before she slurped up every bit.  After eating, she snored for 45 minutes.  I barely had the heart to tell her we had to get going.  Only nine miles of road walking left, but it seemed like a thousand.

I let Amber get ahead of me while I packed up.  I hit the road and my heart soared.  She was like a new person, averaging four miles per hour.  I did not catch her until we were over Red Rock Pass.  She was singing once again and now that we were past McBride lake the blood sucking monsters were gone.  Shortly after the pass, the rain stopped and the sun came out.  Past Cougar Snow Park, onto FR83, then to the June Lake trailhead.  we were beat, but happy it was over.  It took me a little longer to recover since I only ate about 600 calories for the trip, but Amber was no worse for wear.  We both vowed never to return until a successful trip report has been posted.  On the drive home we had to admit it was quite the adventure.

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