The only thing that concerned me was snow.  It had fallen throughout the week at the house, 280 feet above sea level, and I was heading to 3500 feet.  I did not have a map with this trail on it so I was not sure of where it ended up, but things like this usually work themselves out.  The trail finally dumped me out on the south end of Carpenter's Lake just past it's outlet.  I picked up an old ATV road just before finding, and taking, another unknown trail.  This trail ran the ridge, parallel to the road, and offered exceptional views, but soon ended just before the junction with Heartbreak Ridge.  The snow begins.

Several inches were at the kiosk, covering any tracks I made last week while chopping steps.  The panting began as I made my way up.  It was easier than last week in some ways and harder in others.  Although I was not sliding on a sheet of ice, I sunk deep in the soft powder sometimes sliding backwards before it held me in place.

I gained elevation faster than last week and felt rather good.  The snow was starting to firm up as it got deeper and the air around me got colder.  Hamilton Mountain was covered and provided a beautiful backdrop through the fog.

The trail slanted during it's side-hill section that became quite difficult.  Foolishly I wore my trail runners today and was already buried to mid-shins.  My ultra lighter's ego was just trying to prove that the right shoe/sock combination would be fine even in these conditions, that is, until I stopped.   Snow continued to fall down my back from the low hanging tree limbs. 

I arrived nearly where I stopped the week before when it started to snow.  Large flakes fell in a dead calm atmosphere.  There was not a hint of wind, keeping me toasty with only a small base layer.  I gulped down a half liter of water while eating a Power Bar and crunched my way up the rim edge.

I made it to last weeks turn around point before backtracking down the steep slopes to find a break in the brush.  I just had to get through the immediate wall of ice before the fields opened up, giving me an unobstructed path to the top.

I made it through the icy wall of white as my gaiters started resembling Popeye's forearms.  Snow was constantly getting packed up from underneath as I often sank several feet up the 35 percent grade.  Thoughts of Kelly imagining more snow from last week's hike brought forth a chuckle.  As I placed weight on one foot, my body would lift an inch just before sinking and inch and would repeat until both legs were buried to my hips.

I trudged on slowly, sinking constantly, while trying to pick a line in between ice and snow where I would not sink, but would not slide down the mountain either.  To make things worse, a whiteout crept in, making it almost impossible to take pictures.  The top faded in and out of view as I noticed something that looked a bit out of place.  A structure of some kind, I thought, but here?

Just to my left was the old Heartbreak Ridge route as the wood along it was to form steps, but was out of place and decayed.  I zigzagged my way up, in hopes, towards the summit, in calm winds.

At the top I was rapturous.  I made it in conditions far worse than last week.  I made the first footprints of the day at the top.  Then reality set in.

How would I get back down?  There was no way I was going to get down what I had come up.  I decided, once again, to tempt my  fate.  After all, I had been lucky thus far.  I slowly swam my way across the top, looking for any hints of familiarity.  I sank to my knees.  I sank to my hips.  I sank to my ankles.  I sank to my waist.  There was no way to know how deep the snow was.  One point I was walking along the top three inches of snow, then, "flump".  I was stuck.

Along the summit, I spotted an old camping spot Bob and I had used a few years ago.  The area was nearly void of snow as it gets real windy in the area providing 100 feet of easy walking.  Just past our spot, the woods began.  The snow was very sold here as it was protected from any sunlight and was given the opportunity to consolidate.

It is almost impossible to describe the peace here in the snowy woods.  If I had a tent, I would have set camp here, now.  I silently made my way through the snow-filled trees, occasionally sinking to my shins and no farther.

Once through the woods, I precariously, slowly, methodically, made my way down the southwest face.  Nearly every other step, I used my ice axe to self arrest as, at one time, sliding eight additional feet would have resulted an 800 foot plunge into the clouds.  I met a man, about a third of the way up for him, and said hello before sliding my way back to the trail and back to the truck elated.

Home