Very little anymore is normal. Usually we would have been fishing on Memorial Day Weekend. Instead, we had to stay home. After the previous day's wet adventure in the deep green forest and a forecast for sun I wanted to get higher into the mountains.
The road was still blocked, but it was only half a mile to the trailhead instead of the 1.3 miles of last week. The tangled brush was slightly less troublesome, but the snow was harder than before. No need for snowshoes, but crampons were very helpful.
The lake was frozen and the gully was, too. The benefit of starting early in the morning even though my eyes were still heavy. At the top of the gully, Mount Rainier made an appearance, but I was unfaithful and was more interested in the rolling slopes ahead of us.
The goal was to repeat our traditional spring route into the Alpine Lakes Wilderness. We climbed past several tarns and got to the top of the ridge with a 500 foot gully begging for a glissade.
Unfortunately, the sun had warmed the snow enough it wasn't all that stable. Big rollers of snow disturbed the smooth surface. Far below, at our usual destination, huge blocks of a failed cornice were piled beneath the cliffs. This was not the day to descend.
Instead, we climbed across the mouth of the gully to the high point on the other side. Steep cliffs prevented us from continuing so we headed back. Disappointment.
Thankfully, the sun had only affected one side of the slopes. The route home was firm enough for a couple of glissades down into the basin. It's no surprise we took advantage.
Even down in the basin, the snow was firm enough to easily walk. Or, in the case of Tinkham, to run with wild abandon.
Even after all the climbing and chasing birds and eating snow Tink had a ton of gas left in the tank. I guess that's what it's like when you're a teenager. Kinda makes me wish I was one.
