About three days ago she started calling with all kinds of excited questions. What to wear. What to bring. Where we were going.

I decided that since I had been up Summit West last month I'd go to the eastern-most side of the ski areas and go up Hyak this time. It's a mile and a half to a decision point, then another mile to Hyak Lake and Rockdale Lake or another half mile to Mount Hyak. We chose the lakes route after I found some goreous pictures of Rockdale Lake. Of course, those were taken during the day, but Leech Lake looked cool in the dark so maybe Rockdale would as well.

As we rounded a corner and got our first view of the Pass area from about 10 miles away it was clear this would be a different experience than the cloudless, lit-by-the-moon trip of last month. A huge wave of thick clouds was breaking over the crest and pretty much guaranteed we'd need our headlamps and visibility would be low. Nevertheless, we pressed on and were soon in the Hyak parking area.

We followed a groomed run up under the Easy Gold chair to the water tower that's painted to be a massive beer can. We left the groomed track and followed a snowshoer's path across the slope until we were under the Keechelus chair where we rejoined the groomed trail. Rather than heading straight up through loose powder we sauntered up the wide avenue of compacted snow in a long loop to the northwest.

In no time we found ourselves at an intersection not marked on the map. ARGH. GPS indicated the route to Hyak Lake was directly between our two options, but I chose the lower and off we went. Another unmarked intersection and another guess. Finally we found a sign and it was clear there would be no trip to the lakes this night. However, Mount Hyak was just around the corner so that became our new destination.

We popped out of the trees at the eerily quite terminus for the Keechelus lift and descended a bit before heading up toward what appeared to be the summit. We stopped to consult the map and GPS again and admire the determination of a little tree just poking its head above the snow.

What was exposed was covered in ice crystals that couldn't have been very warm. Snow had blown up around the tree so we took solace in knowing it would soon be completely engulfed and just another bump near the summit.

We left the groomed track at last for the last 100 yards to the summit. The snow was very light and sparkled thanks to the LEDs in our headlamps. The summit was little more than a bump among bumps, but the GPS confirmed we had conquered the 3,745 foot summit. Wee. Michelle was clearly disappointed. She was hoping for some epiphanic moment atop the world, but settled for hot cocoa and cookies.

A snowshoer's trench continued on over the summit down the hill on the other side, but we decided that it was time to head back. Although it felt warmer than 15F while we were climbing I quickly chilled and slipped off my dexterity gloves in favor of expedition-class mittens in an attempt to retain feeling in my fingers.

As we started down I got out the big garbage bags I had brought in hopes we could take advantage of gravity. (Yes, this time I did grab the big bags instead of the little ones I brought last time.) Michelle had more success than I did, but I got some decent speed sliding head first. We wound up walking much of the way until we were back under the Keechelus chair with a clear and steep shot down to the parking lot.

It turns out the bags are really just a hinderance. We just sat down and let go. Before I knew it I was trying to stop by jamming my crampons into the snow, but their aggressive and normally effective teeth did little to slow my progress. I flipped over thinking that would help, but now I was sliding on my front. I finally found some deeper powder and came to a stop.

Turning around I could hear Michelle squealing with delight as she rocketed down toward me. I had visions of a horrible collision, but it didn't materialize, thankfully.

We tromped across the powder and back onto the groomed run below the Easy Gold trail. I found that if rested on my left hip and tucked my left leg under me so my snowshoe touched only on the outside rail I could slide pretty effectively. The only problem was that there were divots where we had climbed up this route and each time I hit one I felt the jarring thump throughout my body.

Back at the car we found it had warmed up by two degrees so now it was 17F. The wind was blowing at least 15 mph so without doing any calculations I'll call that "really cold." We threw the gear in the truck and headed home.

Total distance was two miles up, one and a half down (courtesy of the glissading shortcut) and 1,100 feet of gain.

Hyak (aka, Summit East) remains closed so it's the domain of snowshoers for at least a little longer. It's definitely worth another visit, but hopefully in better conditions. Heck, if it stays closed it might be a good daylight trip.