Like the last trip, we had originally planned to go east to explore some new terrain on the dry side of the state. Unfortunately, that area was closed due to wildfires. The backup destination was still full of smoke, but at least it wasn't burning. It was a long drive to the trailhead, broken up by a number of SCIENCE! stops. Henry helped collect a handful of new samples for the Adventure Scientists Timber Project and those short stops made the hours in the car tolerable.

From our first steps on the trail it was dusty and hot. Never mind the early hour (we left home before the sun came up), it was still a sweatfest as we climbed through the forest. When we finally caught a glimpse of Mount Adams in the distance it was as though we'd dunked our hats in a cold mountain stream. Actually, it probably was us dunking our hats in the cold mountain stream and seeing the mountain was just coincidental. Regardless, it got much better after that.

Our approach trail crossed the PCT and continued to a dispersed camp about a mile up the mountain. There were spots available, but we had another destination in mind. A snow finger extended down the valley and made further travel easy. Any semblance of a trail was completely gone. There were some tracks, but they often headed in odd directions. We navigated based on a map with the increasingly obvious Mount Adams as our landmark. Had there been more snow, we might have made a straight line for the destination. However, it was August after all so we wound around the long way until Henry shouted from the ridge that he could see the lake.

And what a lake it was. It was the quintessential blue green of a glacial lake because it sits at the terminus of the Adams Glacier. The mountain loomed above us and it was very clear we had lucked out to wind up here. We clambered down the ridge and took one of the sites to the east of the lake.

The skies were clear above us, but in the valley where we had been it was full of smoke. Bad for them, great for the prospect of an epic sunset. We set up camp, puttered around a bit, built the rock wall around the tent a little higher (each of the sites had rock walls to protect against the wind, though it wasn't an issue for us), and were just about to start making dinner when one of the climbers from another tent (there were two other tents) told us there were goats down below.

Goats? We can put off dinner for goats.

Goats can be dangerous, though not as dangerous as moose (and definitely not as dangerous as a moose being carved with a toothbrush), but still I urged caution as we approached the area. I wanted to spot the moose... er... goats from far away so we could figure out how to stay safe. We climbed over the ridge and could see a group of five goats on the edge of the plateau a half mile away. We descended to get to within a quarter mile and set up in a veritable fortress of rocks. (Really, it was quite defensible.)

Henry grabbed my camera and started clicking away. There were three adults and two kids. One adult definitely saw us, but paid no mind. The kids ignored us completely. All five of them continued grazing as we watched.

When I had the camera I alternated between the goats and the sunset. From where we sat we could see Mount Rainier floating above the horizon, Mount Saint Helens rising just above the layer of smoke, and of course Mount Adams behind us. As the sun sank lower I had a hard time figuring out what to gawk at.

The goats dropped over the edge of the plateau and we debated following. I kept Henry well back and circled way around where we lost site of the goats. They had moved about 300 yards downslope and were enjoying the last rays of sun as much as we were. The adult male was rolling in the dirt and the two kids were having a play battle. I showed Henry the photos when I got back to where he was and he really, really wanted to chase them, but we opted to collect some goat hair and return to camp for dinner. (Little did I know the goat hair collection was going to become a thing.)

We turned in without the fly on the tent under clear skies. (Yes, I did learn my lesson from the previous weekend, but it was just too nice and it seemed like it couldn't possibly rain. (Yes. Just like the last weekend.))

We woke around sunrise to find the climbers gone, the sky mostly clear, and the surrounding mountains lit up by the dawn. It was glorious. The only downside was a bit of homesickness from my junior adventurer. He's what you call a mama's boy. He started working on me to cut our trip short by a day as soon as we woke up. He missed Mom. We could go down and see her and then go for another hike. Or we could go down and camp in the car so we could get home earlier on day three. Or... I used the only tool I had. I stalled.

Let's go on our slack day adventure and we'll see how we feel when we get back. He relented and I knew I had bought myself at least a few more hours of time to come up with the reason we absolutely had to stay. Time to start thinking hard.

While I was thinking we climbed up the edge of the moraine toward the mountain. We found more camp sites higher up and more goat hair. Henry pocketed it. (The goat hair. Not the camp sites.) We crossed a finger of snow and Henry found more hair. We climbed about 1,000 feet above camp and I gazed back at the crazy color of the lake and at other little tarns along the edge of the glacier. Henry picked up more hair. When we reached our high point his pockets were bulging and he was asking me to carry it. Turns out, I didn't have to think too hard. I just had to let him be himself. We spent most of the afternoon looking for more hair and we found plenty.

I really wanted to see the glacier up close. Not the smooth snowy bits that were calving into the lake, but the gnarly crevasses we could see from camp. We followed along the bottom of the glacier and climbed through the loose rock of the edge. I've been on plenty of nasty terrain, but this may have been some of the worst. Each step was half a step forward at best. We avoided the dangerous sections by picking our route carefully until we were face to face with the ice. A depression revealed that maybe we'd been closer all along. 15 feet of rock were on top of ice signaling it was time to turn back.

We finished the excursion by climbing around the other side of the lake before returning to camp. It was only 3pm and in Henry's mind it was time to head home. Apparently, the goat hair hunt hadn't resulted in a permanent solution. However, it did show me the power of distraction.

We sat at the water's edge and read for a while. A swarm of ladybugs appeared and entertained us for about an hour. Dinner time came and went and I thought I was in the clear. Nope. We could still make it down by dark and then get an early start home to Mom in the morning. <sigh>

My final trick was video. How can you deny the power of video. Not watching, but being the star.

One take! It was perfect. So perfect we decided to do another video for the Black Diamond Alpine FLZ trekking poles I was using. (Side note: Best. Poles. Ever.) It didn't go as well.

Regardless, we were busy until dark and then we were too tired and it was too late to head out. Victory through exploitation of short attention spans! (Not sure that's a good thing, though.)

In the morning we packed up and started the walk out. We ran into a few folks that were looking for the lake, but hadn't been able to find it. Kind of a bummer since it was so lovely. For the three days we were there we had the two climber tents the first night (they left while we were touring the glacier); a handful of day hikers that came to the lake, looked around, and left; one Instagram star who waded out into the lake while someone else took pictures; and of course the goats. For being right off the PCT and just above the well known camp it was very quiet.

By the time we were off the snow and across the PCT we were ready to be done. The dust billowed around us as we walked and we longed for the snow that was always at hand up higher. After the trees blocked our last views of the mountain it was a solid trudge to get back to the car and the drive was even less fun.

The big takeaway from this trip was that as long as there's lots to do I can keep Henry from missing home too much. Between chasing goats, collecting goat hair, reading, and making videos the trip was go-go-go. That wasn't necessary for Lilly, but for this boy, it was a key to making this a great trip.