Last time I was up here it was October and I was stunned at the beauty of the area and we didn't even try to summit. After all, we were just a boy and his dog and it wasn't clear if the rocky slope would get us to the top safely.
Fast forward a year (and a hip surgery and all the rest) and we found ourselves standing in the same spot on another blue sky day. This time it was July and there was still snow on the ground. Even better, we had company so why not see if we could climb up to the ridge? What's the worst that could happen?
Needless to say, we didn't die. The dogs didn't get hurt. We made it to the ridge. Getting up there was a chore once we left the firm snow for the loose rock. The dogs seemed almost born for this kind of travel. They scampered around while I plodded slowly up. Scott waited patiently at the top until I could get all the way up. We looked down and decided we would most assuredly not be descending that way.
Since we were just a short distance from the summit we wandered up for views that my pics can't do justice. Another group, the first we'd seen almost all day, showed up as we were heading down. They declared us crazy for coming up the way we did. I'd argue, but...
📍On the lands of the Wenatchi People.
