I've been guilty of this myself. Back in 2002, we very nearly got ourselves in trouble by attempting the Tongariro Crossing in a wicked storm. In the end, the rangers talked us out of it. They were right, but I still regret it. When am I going to be back in New Zealand? Or that time I climbed Broken Top by myself, in weather that limited visibility to just a few feet? Brilliant.

So that's how I found myself at the Artist Point trailhead with four guys from the East Coast. I'd met Matt and Poria before when they came to the West Coast in 2017 and we toured around Mount Rainier. This time we were going to camp in the mountains to make the most of two days.

Since it was February, it wasn't a trip to take lightly. Thankfully, the guys didn't have to bring all the necessary gear with them. The perk of being an ambassador is I have connections. Matt and I pilfered our stashes of backpacks to ensure everyone was Deuterized. A detour into Seattle on the way to the mountain scored us avalanche transceivers, probes, and shovels from BCA as well as snowshoes and poles from Tubbs.

The route from the trailhead to Artist Point is straightforward. There are plenty of tracks since it's a very popular winter destination, though they were fading as the snow fell. Avalanche danger was moderate, but we still opted for the safest route and arrived just as darkness was really taking hold. To find a spot out of the wind was a bit of a challenge at Artist Point itself so we retreated back the way we had come and nestled our tents into a depression between two small hills. It wasn't perfectly calm, but it wasn't as bad as being in the open.

I was surprised to find some of the guys had never slept in the snow and one had never even slept in a tent. I felt a bit like the cowboys from that old Pace commercial talking about New York City. Nonetheless, we got two tents set up in the deep snow and I quickly fell asleep. The others? Well... Take a look at Matt's recording from the middle of the night.

No matter how cold or long the night is, it always ends. In the morning, the wind was still howling, but the clouds had broken and the sun burst from over the shoulder of Mt. Shuksan. No matter how cold it was, the sight warmed my heart. (Breakfast Skillet in a bag warmed my insides.)

We packed up and started climbing higher. My initial plans had some really ambitious destinations for the morning, but with conditions as they were it didn't make sense to chase them. Instead, we climbed to Huntoon Point, enjoyed the views, and headed back down. Did I mention the wind never let up?

Down is always easier when you're carrying a heavy pack, though a little dicy in deep snow. Most of the tracks from the day before had been filled in by spindrift so we weren't constrained at all. About half way down, we started meeting climbers just starting out. Their number was legion, reaffirming our decision to camp on the mountain to have it mostly to ourselves. We got back to the car, pushed our gear into the trunk (amazingly, it fit!) and bailed off the mountain as the next wave of the storm was hitting.

Even as I was driving to the mountain with snow slowing traffic on the highway to a crawl I was hard pressed to think about abandoning the weekend's plans. I'd been looking forward to the adventure for months since we had set it up. The idea of bailing on it was terrible even though it was just a few hours from home. It's no wonder there's so much pressure to make it happen when you've traveled across the country. This time it worked out, but we always need to balance our ambitions with the reality on the ground. It's something I'm continuing to work on. Now I just need an epic trip where I can try out my new resolve. Got any ideas?