This time we came prepared with snowshoes and poles and all manner of gear even though it's been raining in the mountains without mercy for the last couple of weeks. When we got to the trailhead the three guys just heading out told us we wouldn't need half of what we brought because there was no snow on the mountain. We dropped the extra weight back into the car and headed off.

When we got a short ways up the trail/road that connects the Middle Fork road to the CCC road Tokul went off-leash. Shortly thereafter she went back on leash and Juneau was released. We alternated for about a mile and a half until we were on the road up the hill and the two dogs couldn't disappear on us. At that point both went off leash much to their enjoyment. They found mud bogs and chased each other for a short while before the grade began to wear them down.

The road is your typical abandoned logging road switchbacking up the hill. Something's going on up there, though, because there were clear tracks from both a large truck and a tracked construction vehicle. Tons of work had been done on the road, but for what reason we weren't sure. We found the front-loader at about 2,800 feet amidst a large pile of boulders it was either collecting or delivering.

There were some minor views at this spot where the clouds broke enough to see the Middle Fork and Pratt rivers as well as Russian Butte and Preacher Mountain across the valley. The views would have been quite spectacular had the weather not been so poor. Still, it wasn't raining and the sun had illuminated the trail on a few occasions so it could have been worse.

The only real excitement came when Juneau ventured down a nearly vertical slope to a road below ours. The drop was about 30 feet and there was no apparent way to get back up. Dan dropped his pack and started back down the trail in hopes of finding a way to get down (and back up) or, if worst came to worst, return to the split of the two roads. However, before he could get more than a few feet back down the road Juneau popped his head up over the bank and clawed his way back among us. Truly amazing.

As we got higher and higher we entered the clouds. The wind blew tattered curtains of mist across the trail and chilled us in spite of our exertions. At about 4,700 feet we found some remnants of snow. In a normal year the hike would be almost impossible without snowshoes, but in this snow-poor winter we were able to walk across the two or three inches of icy snow without difficulty.

The summit was terribly boring without views. Actually, there are two summits. The map shows the southern one at 5,028 with the road leading to it. We looked around and decided the northern summit was a bit higher (the GPS showed it at 5,050) and sheltered from the wind as well so we scrambled up that for lunch. It had taken us three hours.

The clouds turned to mist and shortly to rain. We added layer on layer and started the trip down. Any partial views we had on the way up were completely gone now, replaced by a wall of light gray. We saw a couple of mountain bikers heading up and another couple whizzed by us near the car, but otherwise the trip down was completely uneventful. We did a few mental calculations and found we were hiking at about four miles an hour on the downward slope making it to the car at 3pm just two hours after leaving the summit.

Finally back at home Amy greeted us at the door with Clara in arms. "Daddy waterfall!" she cried, wanting a ride up our trail to the falls. I actually considered whether I had another three and a half miles in me and figured I could handle it if it made Clara happy. Tokul wasn't going to accompany us as she was already curled up on the garage floor and looked beat. Amy swooped in with the saving suggestion that perhaps we should go to the waterfall tomorrow. Clearly, that's why she's the mommy.