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Worm Flows, Mt.
St. Helens |
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This year, as the snow levels were just not up to par, I wanted one last romp up at Mt. St. Helens before the remaining snow was gone. Usually, February is when the snow falls in amounts keeping us within the norm. As February was not over, I did not want to wait, taking a chance for future snowfall, and packed up some gear before heading out to Marble Mountain Snow Park. Upon arrival, my suspicions were confirmed. There was not a hint of snow in the parking lot, normally covered this time of year. I pulled my pack out of the back seat and set out towards the winter climbing route, up St Helen's south side.
The trial still had some snow pack on it allowing easy walking sans snowshoes. The hiking was fast due to the low depth of the well consolidated snow as I reached the junction of trail 244C in 45 minutes. The sign pointing out my direction, buried under a foot of snow last year, was about 4 feet above the snow. A low snow year indeed.
The skies cleared as I made my way to the timberline. For some reason I had the feeling that things were not right. Usually this means that my body is fighting a nemesis I cannot see. As I did not feel up to a summit attempt, I just thought I would scamper around a bit instead.
Above the tree line, I made my way over Chocolate Falls and towards the worm flows that held the winter climbing route. The day was perfect. No wind, clear blue skies without a hint of a trepidation, and warming weather. I thought the temperature too warm if I was to make an ascent since the thin snow may thin out bridges, making climbing not so safe until 7000 feet.
As I plodded my way to the beginning of the flows, I felt worse. My stomach had a knot in it that I could not relieve. Last week my son has his first case of a tummy bug and I was afraid I caught the same thing. The knot grew as I gained elevation.
By 6000 feet, I was hunched over. The knot had grown into something resembling actual pain. I tried to convince myself that it was dehydration, but I knew what it was. As my goal was to just to meander around, I took the opportunity to practice some very careful glissading down the nearest shoot.
Carefully, I lashed everything onto my pack and geared up with my heavy rain pants. I sat down on the icy, sometimes slushy, snow and immediately took off down the 45 degree slope. While sliding on my backside, I used my ice axe to slow myself. My hands became dumb as they, along with the entire ice axe head, became buried in the snow, all trying to slow my speed. A few minutes and 1500 feet later, I walked back to the ridge of the flows and giggled. Although the initial goal was not attained, the experience was a great one. I was sick with the bug my son had the whole rest of the weekend, but do not regret my outing in the slightest.
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