Many of our foothills are scarred by the sign of the logger. And not the ecologically conscious loggers of today. I'm talking loggers like Dirty Harry who cut down all the trees, took the ones they wanted, left their broken equipment, and moved on to the next hill. A far cry from the selective logging we've seen over the last few years. Needless to say, the mountains with these wounds aren't what we long for.
Except in winter. In winter, snow covers everything. Brambles and stumps in summer become smooth fields of white in winter. By spring, you could be forgiven for thinking there were alpine meadows buried under all that snow. That's why we go on adventures to these kinds of places when the snow aids our travel and our imaginations.
The boy and I started early in the morning and followed old logging roads to the snow. From there it was easier to climb straight up a (mostly) snow-covered talus field. Thanks to our arrangement of a quarter per posthole, I made about $5 off the boy. At the top of the field we had the option to continue up the ridge or lose elevation along another road. Of course we chose the ridge.
The first part was lousy with thick trees and hard snow. When we broke out of the trees, we were on a lovely ridge that led to the summit.
The only problem with the summit was the unfortunately placed trees. I'm sure they didn't always block the view of my dear Rainier, but now it's just a peek-a-boo view. <sigh> Down was fun as always. Spring snow is great for glissading and HOS made the most of it.
Unfortunately, after the glissade we had to make our way back along the snow covered logging roads to the car. Great for access. Lousy for walking after being up high. There's a cost for everything.
