Tuesday, July 19, 2016

Mount Rainier


Washington's highest peak is also the highest in the Cascade Range, the 4th highest state highpoint and the 21st most prominent peak in the world. After being unable to gather a team for an independent climb, I joined RMI's 4 day summit climb program. I can't say enough nice things about their staff, the guides and my team mates. Most importantly, I have to thank my family for their support. Without them, this would not have been possible.

Trip dates: July 10-13.

Partners: Biren, Jeremy, Michael, Luigi, and Todd. Guides: Brent, Megan and Bryan.

Stats: 18 mile round trip with 9,000ft gain from Paradise to Columbia Crest. Summit Elevation 14,410ft. Alpine grade II, class 3/4.

Gear notes: Lots of layers and prepared for a wide range of conditions.

Links: Mount Rainier on Summitpost.orgCurrent conditions.

Overview of the route.

Warning: Personal reflection below! (Scroll down to get on with the story.)

Why Mount Rainier? Because its there! Okay, okay, no George Mallory quotes!

I guess my story of Why Mount Rainier began almost thirty years ago while visiting family in Washington, from which one odd memory from my childhood sill remains vivid. I was standing at the baggage claim in Sea-Tac watching in awe as the guys grabbed these huge duffle bags, backpacks and boots off of the baggage carousel. I believe it was my aunt who said something like "Oh their here to climb the mountain. It's stupid; everyone who tries to climb it dies..."  Obviously, she was not a climber. No one in my family was. I definitely was not.

Off I went with my family and I remained largely oblivious to the world of climbing until I was about 12 when I watched the movie K2: The Ultimate High. I remember being so engrossed by it; basically mesmerized. I knew that I had to do that, in some capacity, to be complete. With no climbing family or friends, my exposure came in the form of a couple library books. From that point I remained semi-conscious of the climbing world. As I got older, I was still drawn to reading about Himalayan expeditions and high altitude climbing. I got into snowboarding, then more and more into hiking, then backpacking and finally rock climbing. All the while, Mount Rainier was in the back of my mind. How could I work up to something like that?

I grew a bit jaded of the cragging scene here in Boise and began to look into climbing bigger peaks. Wouldn't you know it, Idaho has a lot of them! I started small: Cervidae, Pilots Peak, Mores Mountain, Grand Slam Peaks, etc, then worked up to bigger and bigger mountains. I decided to set a major goal; Borah Peak. I kept at it, looking more closely at the Cascade Range. As I kept climbing more and more peaks, I settled into the alpine environment and the adventure of this style of climbing. A couple of years ago, I began to get serious about an attempt of Rainier. I started getting gear in order and tailoring my climbs and training to simulate the demands needed as best as I could. I set Mt. Adams as my test piece for Rainier.

After getting the chosen prerequisites under my belt, I got planning for Rainier. I wanted to go on an independent team and learn the skills of glacier travel and crevasse rescue. For various reasons, that didn't happen. What did happen was this: I lucked out on one inverted February morning here in the Treasure Valley. While mindlessly looking at Rainier stuff on the line, I saw there was an opening on a 4 Day Summit Climb program with RMI in July. These trips sell out really fast and are often booked six months in advance. If there is one thing I have learned from mountain climbing that relates to life in general, it's to be patient. Listen to the mountain. It will tell you when to stay put, when to back off, and when to go up. A few more clicks later and I was officially committed to dates for Rainier. When I started climbing, I made a deal with myself. Lack of physical fitness was not going to be a reason I didn't summit. Now I was going to train harder than I ever had before as I headed into my biggest climbing goal and beyond.

The actual trip report begins here!

Weather is key on Rainier. The last month or so of weather in the Pacific Northwest had been atypical. The usual dome of high pressure was not present. Rainier was getting hammered with snow and blizzard like conditions. On an independent climb, you can wait for the magical weather window to open. On a guided climb, you have a specific date for your summit attempt, weather window or not. Our dates were not looking too bad, but not great.

I arrived in Ashford, at Rainier Base Camp on Sunday afternoon for orientation. The team gathered outside of the Summit Haus with our gear. One by one we trickled in and exchanged greetings and handshakes. We totaled 10 climbers at this point. Two guides showed up. Mike Uchal and Brent Okita. Brent had recently passed 500 summits of Rainier, 504 at the time to be exact, as well as a 25th summit of Denali about a month and a half ago. After they introduced themselves, they called out names and divided the big group in two. Call it dumb luck or mountain magic, but I was pretty darn stoked when I was called onto Brent's team. We all took a seat in the Mountain Haus, introduced ourselves and Brent gave us the rundown on recent conditions on the route. He had turned back on his last climb just 3 days ago due to an area of wind loading at 12,500ft.

After a detailed equipment check, we were dismissed. We all went off to pack for the next day of training and then gathered at the Base Camp Bar and Grill for dinner and a couple of pints. We were already beginning to mesh and come together as a team.

The next morning, we took the bus to Paradise and hiked out to the training area with a low cloud deck and occasional drizzle.

Packing up at Paradise.

Michael ready to hike.

Todd and Luigi getting ready.

Biren, Brent and Michael getting set.

Hiking on the trails above Paradise.

Hiking out to the training area.

The training day was ground-up instruction on basic snow climbing, roped travel and running belays. It was good to be out on the mountain, but the low clouds were a bummer. The team consensus was that we would take whatever weather we got and not complain until summit day. Then we would ask for better weather. Afterword, we gathered at Base Camp for dinner and retired early to pack and rest for the hike up to Camp Muir the next day.

Before the bus. Left to right: Tom, Biren, Michael, Todd and Luigi.

The next morning brought another low cloud deck but no drizzle. Before getting on the bus, we met the sixth climber on our team, Jeremy and the other two guides, Megan and Bryan. Jeremy had already done the training day and this would be his fourth attempt on Rainier.

Looking down the Muir Snowfield. Photo: Luigi S.



The 4,660ft hike up to Muir was awesomely boring. Hike for an hour, then a fifteen minute break. Repeat times three until arrival at Camp Muir. Bryan and Megan offered a couple of riddles to occupy our minds along the way. On our way up, we passed a few groups on their way down after summiting. They all kept saying the top of the cloud deck was close.


Todd and Luigi at a break on the snowfield. Photo: Luigi S.


Welcome to exotic Camp Muir, elevation 10,060ft. Come for the altitude, stay for the views. The clouds had risen with the warming temperature and were now above Muir when we rolled in at about 2:45pm.

Camp Muir.

Camp Muir.

Camp Muir. 

Backpacks and sharp things stayed outside the hut. We brought the rest of our equipment inside and got settled. There was a bit of a nervous atmosphere, but everyone had made it to camp and was in good spirits. 

In the hut. Left to right: Luigi, Biren, Tom, Todd, Brent, Jeremy and Michael. Photo: Luigi S.


Brent and Mike gave us the rundown on what to expect on the 4,350ft climb from here. They would wake us up at some ungodly hour between 11pm and 2am depending on weather. The exact time went undisclosed due to being classified intel. Then we would leave Camp Muir under the cover of darkness and travel for about one hour to Ingraham Flats, our first break. From there, its about an hour and a half to the top of Disappointment Cleaver and the next fifteen minute break. One more hour to high break, then about another hour to the summit. If we reached the summit, our time there would depend on how the weather was and how well the team was feeling. Our team was subdivided into 3 rope teams with a 2:1 ratio. Brent, Jeremy and Todd. Bryan, Luigi and myself. Megan, Biren and Michael.

Notice a pattern? 1 hour hike = 1,000+ft gain. 

Biren, Todd and Luigi getting settled in the hut.

Normally, they cram eighteen people in this small mountain hut. With both groups, we totaled eleven. For some reason, our group turned out to be smaller than normal, so it was more like a private climb. We all agreed that eighteen people would be pretty packed. We felt lucky. 

Dumb luck or mountain magic?

We had dinner and were in our sleeping bags about 6pm. We all doubted that we would get any sleep, but it wasn't too long until someone was snoring. Camp Muir is a noisy place, but it eventually quieted down. I was able to quiet my own mind long enough to get two good blocks of sleep. Just as I came out of the second, I checked the time; 11:32pm. The hut was quiet and still. I rolled back over and began drifting back into dreamland. 

What happened next was the perfect combination of alien abduction and boot camp drill instructor. Brent came in with his headlamp shining, clanking the metal containers of hot water together and flipped on the lights. It was 11:51pm.

The weather Gods had given us the nod; the summit attempt was a go.

We had an hour to eat, use the toilet, get dressed and be out front with harnesses on and be ready to rope up. It was 12:45am when Luigi and I were clipping in. With headlamps on, we set out across the Cowlitz glacier to Cathedral Gap, from the Gap to Ingraham Flats and our first break. This first stretch felt like it went by quick as I sat down for the standard fifteen minute break.

Pack down, parka on, sit, eat, drink.

It was here that Todd informed Brent that he wasn't going on. I felt bummed as I congratulated him on making it that far and wished him luck on his descent. It was quite an accomplishment for a first time climber. Luigi and I were now roped up with Brent and his crew as we set out to tackle Disappointment Cleaver. Class 3/4 rock in crampons while Kiwi Coiled and climbing by headlamp was interesting. We had no choice but to keep pace with Brent so this also seemed to go by fast. It was at the top of the Cleaver and the site of our second break that, as Biren put it, "shit got real, really fast."

There was a stiff and cold wind now as we dropped our packs, added a mid-layer, put on mid-weight gloves and put our parkas on. A lot of people made it to the top of the Cleaver, and a lot of people also called it quits. Honestly, I was too busy taking care of myself to pay close attention, but there were several remarks of "my (insert various appendage such as feet) are way too cold."  Some people appeared to be having a real tough time. I was trying to keep focused on my own needs as my team and I exchanged nods indicating  yeah I'm cold, but I'm going on. Jeremy wasn't feeling well and began vomiting. He was transferred to Megan's team and headed down with some others. We told Jeremy to hang in there and wished him well as Brent called "parkas off, packs on." Now it was Michael, Luigi, Biren and I on a rope with Brent. 

Get moving or get cold.  

We could see the lights of Yakima to the east as we headed up the switch backs toward high break. Slowly the sun began to rise. We end-ran a few large crevasses, climbed up one snow bridge and clipped the running belay above a very large crack. The route was fairly direct and, like clockwork, arrived at high break about an hour later. It was finally light enough that we could begin taking pictures. 

Sunrise on Little Tahoma.

Mt. Adams above the clouds at high break.

Layered up at high break.

All while shoving food in my mouth of course. We left high break wearing every insulation layer we had. For me, that was a mid-weight base layer, light soft shell jacket, down sweater and parka, with all the hoods pulled up and a warm hat under my helmet, while moving.  It was dam cold.

We battled some strong gusts as we pushed our way up. Two teams ahead of us had summited and were on their way down. We got to the crater rim about 6:45am with the wind still pushing us around. After a very short break, Michael and I followed Brent to Columbia Crest, Mt. Rainier's highpoint. Luigi and Biren stayed at the break area while the remainder of Mike's team came up. Brent signed in at register rock. Michael and I signed in below him, noting that this was #505 for Brent. 

A team of four headed across the crater toward Columbia Crest.

Looking east from Register Rock over the crater rim.

Mt. Adams from Columbia Crest.

Michael on Columbia Crest.

Columbia Crest, summit of Mt. Rainier, 14,410ft.

After just enough time to get a few pictures, we headed back down to rejoin our team at the crater rim for a short break.

Brent, Michael and I headed back to rejoin our team at the crater rim.

Crater rim.

With half the climb over, it was time to being the long descent. Brent graciously offered to take my camera and get some pictures on the way down. Heading down, we had our backs to the wind but it was still chilly. The warmth of the sun didn't become apparent until we had descended well below the crater rim; now we were sweltering.

Heading down the upper slopes.

Little Tahoma.

Luigi, Biren and I on descent.

I was at the end of the rope team and was placed in the lead for the running belay with six anchors at the top of a steep slope with a very large crevasse at the bottom. I think this had less to do with my ability and more to do with the fact that Brent had the crevasse rescue gear.

Descending.

Descending.

Lower Emmons Glacier to the left of Little Tahoma.

After the running belay, we had a brief stop to shed a couple of layers as Brent probed the snow bridge that we climbed over across the large crevasse. We hopped back on the trail and didn't stop until we hit the break spot just above the cleaver. Then we had a nice break and took in the view and some much needed fuel. 

Top of the Cleaver looking at Cadaver Gap.

We Kiwi Coiled in and began the descent of the Cleaver, which was half snow, half rock for 1,300 feet.

Luigi, Biren and I on descent.

Coming down the Cleaver.

Looking down the Cleaver.

We were the only team on the Cleaver, but knocking any rock off was still unacceptable, and some somewhat unavoidable. It felt like we made good time and soon we coiled out as we stepped back on to the Ingraham Glacier.

Disappointment Cleaver. Note the rope team of 3 near the edge of the snow half way down. 

Our pace was as quick as it was vigilant due to the risk of rock and ice fall in this area. The worst mountaineering accident in American history occurred here  on June 21, 1981. Eleven people lost their lives when a serac calved off of the upper Ingraham Glacier. None of the bodies were ever recovered.

Icefall on the Ingraham Glacier.

Crossing the Ingraham Glacier.

It was nice to finally see what we had climbed in the night by head lamp and I think we were a little startled as we re-crossed the ladders at high crack.

Ladder across high crack.

Crevasse on the Ingraham Glacier.

Ladder crossing on the Ingraham Glacier.

Ladder crossing on the Ingraham Glacier.

After getting past the icefall and ladders, we were back on easy street. Arriving back at The Flats signaled our second and last break between the summit and Camp Muir. It was 10:00am and the day was beginning to heat up. We were allotted a slightly longer than normal fifteen minute break and watched as Mike's group came into The Flats. 

Group photo at The Flats. Left to right: Tom, Biren, Luigi and Michael.

Mikes team beginning to cross the Ingraham Glacier.

Crevasse's on the Ingraham Glacier.

Leaving The Flats on the last push to Muir.

The push back to Muir was hot and thankfully uneventful. We arrived back in camp at about 11:00am where we rejoined the rest of our group and were glad to see that Todd and Jeremy were doing well.

View south from Camp Muir.

After a little more than an hour of rest and re-packing, we began the descent to Paradise.

"Coming down the mountain is like ripping off a Band-Aid; you can do it fast or slow." - Bryan.

I've always been a fan of BOD's - breaks off descents.

Leaving Camp Muir.

Bryan leads the descent, followed by Todd on the Muir Snowfield.

Anyone up for some boot skiing and glissading!?


Biren glissading.

Mount Rainier from the Muir Snowfield.

Luigi on a steep glissade.

View from Pebble Creek.

We stopped at Pebble Creek for a rest before ripping the rest of the descending Band-Aid off.   

Team photo. Left to right - front row: Bryan and Megan. Back row: Todd, Biren, Tom, Michael, Luigi and Jeremy. Behind the camera: Brent Okita.

With the first day of sunshine in almost a month and the proximity to Paradise came the meadow stompers, selfie sticks and crying kids being tortured by their parents as they were prodded uphill. A sure sign that the parking lot was close.

That kid needs to pressure breathe! She wouldn't have such a tough time if she would just rest step!

Michael gets his toes cooled off.

Back at Paradise, we compared feet. Well, blisters really. It felt good to have my boots off and see that I wasn't in the gnarly blister club. Brent thought it would be a good idea to irrigate Michael's black and blue toes while we waited for Mikes team to arrive. It was easy to pass out on the bus back to Ashford, but hard to stay asleep for long during the bumpy ride.

Celebration beers! Clockwise from left: Todd, Megan, Biren, Tom, Michael, Bryan, Brent and Luigi. Photo: Luigi S.

Arriving back at Rainier Base Camp, we had the standard fifteen minute break before the team celebration. Jeremy apparently headed for the nearest urgent care and we wished him well.

Showers are not allowed. Team rules! 

We gathered for our planned pizza feast, complete with lots of cold Rainier beer. It goes without saying, but this was probably the best climbing I've ever done. I was a bit apprehensive about doing a guided trip, but I really can't say enough good things about RMI. I learned a lot and still have a lot left to learn. Its easy to understand why Rainier is a stepping stone into the greater mountains like Denali and in the Himalaya. Am I Denali bound? Possibly one day. Brent seemed sure I was. Biren seemed sure that he had caught the climbing bug. Todd plans to go back to Rainier. Luigi was headed to Alaska for more hiking and Michael wasn't sure what was next for him in the mountains. They all have an open invitation to come climb in Idaho. This also goes without saying, but I've made four new friends and hopefully we will get to climb together again soon.  

Pro tip #1 - Don't be the last guy out of a rest break more than once. Pro tip #2 - Last one to the party buys a pitcher of beer!

Happy trails!

Saturday, July 9, 2016

White Clouds Trip

A base camp at Fourth of July Lake provides great access to several peaks in the White Cloud Mountains.

Trip dates: July 2-3.

Partners: Deez and Ketchum the birthday dog.

Stats: Approx 9.5 miles and 3,800ft gain round trip.  See below for individual peak details.

Peaks climbed: Fourth of July Peak - 10,713. Patterson Peak - 10,872.

Gear notes: Glad we brought the bug spray.

Links: Area map on Listsofjohn.comFourth of July Peak on Summitpost.orgPatterson Peak on Summitpost.org.

Fourth of July Peak over Fourth of July Lake.

The White Cloud Mountains need no introduction. This range is famous for its jagged white-colored limestone peaks that give the area its name. There are several lakes that are easily accessed, and several more that require more effort. For this trip, we chose to camp at the very easy to access Fourth of July lake. The easy access makes it quite popular so we weren't too surprised when we found the trailhead full of cars. We began our walk to the lake under mostly sunny skies with warm temps and a welcome occasional breeze.

We saw a few groups heading up and passed a few more on their way out. All in all, the traffic really wasn't bad. We didn't have the pleasure of sharing this section of trail with any dirt bikes which was a bonus in itself. Upon arrival at the lake, we found it oddly vacant. We had first choice of camp sites and quickly snagged up a primo spot for the night. Not long after, a couple more groups showed up. We quickly realized that there was an over abundance of these annoying little blood sucking vampire bugs that fly, more commonly known as mosquitos. In Idaho, July means bugs, just as November means cold. After getting the tent up, I took off for Fourth of July Peak and naturally, the dog followed. We went light and fast for the 1,300ft climb up the northeast ridge.

Looking up the northeast ridge of Fourth of July Peak.

Upper ridge.

Ketchum apparently enjoying the view.

The route was straight forward class 2 with one short section of borderline class 3. In one hard push from camp, we hit the top in about an hour where there was a stiff and cold wind out of the west waiting for us.

Summit of Fourth of July Peak.

Patterson Peak above Fourth of July Lake.

Castle Peak standing tall over Washington Lake.

Ivory Peak and Ebony Peak.

Summit selfie with Dog.

Summit register.

After all the summit duties like signing the register and taking pictures, Dog and I zipped back down the ridge and were back in camp after about a 3 mile round trip in just over 2 hours. It was kind of like a speed lap of Cervidae Peak, only way cooler.

Fourth of July Peak hovering in Alpenglow.


The blood suckers tried to get the best of us and did manage to score a few direct hits while we got the fire going to smoke them out.  After dinner and our chosen liquid libations, we got to enjoy one of the finest things the mountains have to offer: Alpenglow.

The next morning warmed up quick as we ate first breakfast. The days objective; Patterson Peak with a possible side trip to Blackman peak. Deez was looking to set her PR for altitude so we were going to head to Patterson first.

Patterson over the unnamed lake along the trail.

Following the trail to the pass that leads to Born Lake was easy enough, stopping once for second breakfast and some pictures. Once atop the pass, we had a clear view of Blackman peak to the north. Patterson Peak sits higher and further from the saddle so we kept to the plan and headed south along the ridge to tag it first.

Blackman Peak from the pass.

Sawtooth Mountains.

Patterson Peak from the pass.

We skirted below the crest of the ridge and aimed for the base of the main ridge to the summit. There were a few rock towers to move around and the ridge stays fairly flat so we made good time.

Boulders along the ridge.

We had a nice break and first lunch before the summit push and I offered up a pep talk to Deez who was having a mental struggle and doubting her ability to make the top.

This is 60% mental toughness and 40% physical ability. We'll go slow, one small section at a time. Your mind needs to be stronger than your legs and you have to be prepared to suffer a bit. The pain is an illusion; the summit glory is reality and only comes after putting one foot in front of the other.

Deez heading up the ridge.

We pushed on and the wind was increasing as we gained elevation up the ridge. I was keeping a watchful eye on the large cumulus clouds building to the west, and noted the lifting condensation level was getting lower as the clouds pushed our way. To the east, I could make out Borah Peak in the Lost Rivers. The sky was dark there and I could see streaks of precipitation falling. This meant the clock was ticking and the race was on to get to the top and down before thunderstorms started. I'm a little vulgar and pretty harsh when I go Drill Sergeant and yell at myself in my head. Deez got the nice Drill Sergeant motivation.

Ah, you can do it. Keep going, one foot in front of the other. There you go...

Looking north northeast at the White Clouds.

The remainder of the ridge was mostly class 2 with a fun and short scramble up to the true summit. I don't think Deez realized how close we actually were and it wasn't long until we were standing on top.

Summit ridge.

Looking east.

Deez on the summit of Patterson Peak.

By the time we got to the summit, the wind was probably a steady 30-40mph and gusting higher than that. Those occasional strong gusts threatened to knock us off our feet so we tried to stay low.


Looking west at Fourth of July Peak.

We had just enough time to get some pictures and not much more. Kind of a bummer after the effort to get there, but sometimes that's part of the deal. Sometimes you get a couple of hours, and sometimes only a couple of minutes. With conditions not getting any better and not wanting to test the chance of thunderstorms, it wasn't long until the nice Drill Sergeant initiated the PUHA descent. In case you don't know, PUHA stands for pack up, haul ass.

White Cloud Peaks.


Summit of Patterson Peak.

Looking north towards Blackman Peak.


Four Lake Basin.

We zig-zagged down through the rocks and made it back to the last good sheltered area for a break and second lunch. Now, the pep talk turned in to the I told you so talk. Even if she didn't think so, I knew she could make it. Deez tested and pushed beyond what she thought was the limit of her mental strength and I'm pretty darn proud of her. Our thoughts shifted to Blackman Peak as we made our way back to where the trail crosses over the saddle.

Deez descending the summit block.

Dog in full sprint a little close to the edge.

When we got back to the saddle, Denise said she was done and didn't want to go for it. Time wise, it wasn't too late, but those pesky clouds were still getting bigger and I didn't want to be up there if the thunder storms started. Not wanting to physically overexert myself going for it so close to a major objective, I called it off and we headed down, stopping at the unnamed pond along the trail for a short break.

Ketchum at the lake with Patterson Peak in the background.

After a 3.5 mile round trip with 1,400 feet of gain, we had a few rain drops on the way back to camp, and by the time we were breaking down the tent we had strong wind gusts and a rather loud, although solitary clap of thunder. We turned over our camp site to a couple from Portland with the blood sucking vampire bugs included at no charge.

Ketchum displaying the "bait and switch" look.

Deez got her highest peak yet so she was stoked as we packed up and headed out. For some reason she still felt a little intimidated by Patterson and didn't want to look back on the peak. Hey, look! You just climbed that!

Ketchum the crazy birthday dog (July 4, age 5) got a backpacking/peak bag trip and also got to set his altitude PR. Dog was actually worn out when we got back to the car. A tired dog is a quite dog, and we like it when he's quite.

Back at the trailhead.

The success of trips like these comes down to doing things right. Starting at the right time; bringing the right equipment; taking the right amount of steps. If you do enough things right, you may find yourself at the top of a peak, and more importantly, back in the parking lot where the real celebration can begin. I feel that strength exists on four levels: Physical, mental, emotional and spiritual. I have had all of those levels of strength tested at some point on every trip I've ever done, and in life in general. When we test our strengths, we found out where our limit is. When we know where our limit is, we can learn when to push beyond it, or pull back when we need to.

Happy trails!

Tuesday, June 14, 2016

West Cottonwood Peak

West Cottonwood Peak was steep with lots of brush.

Ascent date: June 12, 2016.

Partners: Dog.

Stats: Class 2, no official trail. 3,100ft gain to summit elevation 6,336. 6.6 miles and 6 hours round trip.

Gear notes: N/A.


West Cottonwood Peak.


The Cottonwood Peaks are accessed off the middle fork road, about 20 miles from the turn off at the high bridge. I was looking for something local that I hadn't done yet and these peaks came to mind. Super Dave's trip report was my original inspiration and this caught my attention when I noticed there would be lots and miles and gain. There are two ridges that can be used to get to West Cottonwood and I decided on the eastern most ridge as it looked to be a shorter and more direct approach to try and nab both peaks.

Lambing Creek drainage. I used the hill on the right.



Looking down the ridge.


I hopped on the steep hillside and started up, gaining 1,000 feet in the first mile. It was at about that point that I hit the first obstacle; a thick grove of young trees. My instincts told me to stay on the ridge but the trees were thick enough that I would have had to basically claw my way through. Luckily I found a game trail to the west that got me past it. 

The grove.

Past the grove, the slopes opened up again and the route looked obvious; just stay on the ridge.
There was a small section of brush that I waded through, just to get though it. After that there was more brush. Lots and lots of brush with no apparent way though. The worst of it started about 4,800 feet and it took me a while to find a way past it. There was a secret passage of game trails on the west side of the ridge that did eventually get me past it, but it required loosing elevation, steep side hilling and hopping over several downed trees.

At about 5,200 I was able to regain the ridge and actually enjoy the views and hiking.

Looking back on the main ridge after hiking the secret passage.

Cool rock formation.

Upper slopes.

The day was heating up and it had taken longer than I anticipated to cover what little ground I had up until this point. I reached the top of West Cottonwood about 1:15pm.

Mount Heinen.

Looking south.

Looking north to East Cottonwood.

The ridge to East Cottonwood didn't look promising. It would have been about a 7 mile round trip and there looked to be plenty more brush. Even if I had time for it, I probably wouldn't have done it.



Dog and I on top.

After a short break on top I figured I might as well start down.

Looking down the ridge.

Lots of brush.

I was able to navigate down the ridge and around the brush for the most part. There was still that one last section of dense brush that I shimmied though because it looked to be way shorter then going around. Then it was back down the steep slopes in the heat of the day. It was a good training session, but a forgettable hike.

Happy trails!