The Feathered Hat
Active member
After being foiled two weeks ago by deep snow on an ascent of the Skookumchuck Trail and after not being able to join the group led by BobMcCue and GlennS that climbed the Skook to the ridgeline last week (family obligation), I was determined to make it to the top yesterday, Sunday the 15th.
Got a later start than usual, 10 a.m., but no matter. The trail out of the trailhead, at 1,750 feet, was very firm with just the lightest dusting of fresh snow. I barebooted all the way over to Skookumchuck Brook, about a mile, following a couple sets of bareboot tracks left the day before and, below that, the McCue-GlennS path, which was still visible. At the brook the tracks from the day before turned back, but the week-old trail was still easily visible beneath an inch of fresh snow. Knowing the steep climb away from the brook was just ahead, I switched to snowshoes.
The climb up the steep wall (the section that, without snow, features huge rock steps) went fine, as did the nice grade from the top of the steep up to the tiny meadow at the 3,000-foot elevation. The fresh snow was now about three inches deep, but the trail from a week ago was still visible and easily followable. On, then, through the lovely section of the Skook that winds through open trees and up into the spruce forest.
Uh-oh. Fresh snow getting deeper, about half a foot. Last week's path disappears in places beneath drifts. At 4,000 feet I lost it in a spruce copse. Went a few steps left, a few right. Hmmm -- going right seemed, well, right. I must've lost the path earlier than I thought, because just over there, beyond this little clump of spruce, is an open area that must be the trail. I just have to push through these branches and... phoompf! A huge spruce trap, a man-eater, took me down up to my chest. And my left snowshoe was caught on something and wouldn't shake lose. Took off the pack, got out the ice axe, and dug -- and dug and dug. Fifteen minutes later I'm finally swimming out of the hole.
But where to go now? The clear spot that I had thought was the trail wasn't the trail. Yet the trail didn't seem to be anywhere else. So I backtracked to the last spot I had seen a blaze (luckily, only about 150 yards; blazes are pretty rare on the Skook), then climbed up again, looking for places I might've missed earlier where the route turned. But nope, I didn't find any, and now I'm at the same spot that had stopped me earlier. I knew now that going right was wrong, and I was suspicious of going left -- it just didn't look correct. Straight ahead was a small mass of spruce branches. Hmmm... all over again. I pushed through the branches and... voila! The trail makes an appearance.
From here on it's pretty easy to follow, though the fresh snow is getting deeper, up to a foot, and the snowpack is such that for a half-mile or so, up to near treeline, I'm constantly ducking spruce branches. Last week's tracks are completely gone, but the trail route is distinctive through the trees. I'm trail-breaking now through a foot of relatively heavy fresh snow, but I know I'm close. Near the top, up in the rocks, the fresh snow has blown off to reveal hard pack and, in a couple of spots, ice. No problem with snowshoes, though.
At the ridgeline at 4,700 feet the wind, which was not a factor at all down below, was fierce and cold, so I stayed up there only a few moments to snap a couple-three photos and to admire the astonishing forms wind-blown snow and ice create on trail signs and rock cairns. I thought I might see one or two snowshoers, perhaps even VFTTers, on the Garfield Ridge trail, but the wind must've kept people below.
About a quarter-mile down from the top I meet the one person I've seen all day, a fellow who took advantage of my trail packing to make the ascent in Stabilicers. We exchange notes and comments and head our separate ways.
Three hours, 50 minutes to the top (4.3 miles), six hours 15 minutes round trip. Back at home again: a bowl of chili and a bottle of beer. A great day: good skookum!
Photos:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/99682097@N00/sets/72157613909429326/
Steve B
The Feathered Hat
Got a later start than usual, 10 a.m., but no matter. The trail out of the trailhead, at 1,750 feet, was very firm with just the lightest dusting of fresh snow. I barebooted all the way over to Skookumchuck Brook, about a mile, following a couple sets of bareboot tracks left the day before and, below that, the McCue-GlennS path, which was still visible. At the brook the tracks from the day before turned back, but the week-old trail was still easily visible beneath an inch of fresh snow. Knowing the steep climb away from the brook was just ahead, I switched to snowshoes.
The climb up the steep wall (the section that, without snow, features huge rock steps) went fine, as did the nice grade from the top of the steep up to the tiny meadow at the 3,000-foot elevation. The fresh snow was now about three inches deep, but the trail from a week ago was still visible and easily followable. On, then, through the lovely section of the Skook that winds through open trees and up into the spruce forest.
Uh-oh. Fresh snow getting deeper, about half a foot. Last week's path disappears in places beneath drifts. At 4,000 feet I lost it in a spruce copse. Went a few steps left, a few right. Hmmm -- going right seemed, well, right. I must've lost the path earlier than I thought, because just over there, beyond this little clump of spruce, is an open area that must be the trail. I just have to push through these branches and... phoompf! A huge spruce trap, a man-eater, took me down up to my chest. And my left snowshoe was caught on something and wouldn't shake lose. Took off the pack, got out the ice axe, and dug -- and dug and dug. Fifteen minutes later I'm finally swimming out of the hole.
But where to go now? The clear spot that I had thought was the trail wasn't the trail. Yet the trail didn't seem to be anywhere else. So I backtracked to the last spot I had seen a blaze (luckily, only about 150 yards; blazes are pretty rare on the Skook), then climbed up again, looking for places I might've missed earlier where the route turned. But nope, I didn't find any, and now I'm at the same spot that had stopped me earlier. I knew now that going right was wrong, and I was suspicious of going left -- it just didn't look correct. Straight ahead was a small mass of spruce branches. Hmmm... all over again. I pushed through the branches and... voila! The trail makes an appearance.
From here on it's pretty easy to follow, though the fresh snow is getting deeper, up to a foot, and the snowpack is such that for a half-mile or so, up to near treeline, I'm constantly ducking spruce branches. Last week's tracks are completely gone, but the trail route is distinctive through the trees. I'm trail-breaking now through a foot of relatively heavy fresh snow, but I know I'm close. Near the top, up in the rocks, the fresh snow has blown off to reveal hard pack and, in a couple of spots, ice. No problem with snowshoes, though.
At the ridgeline at 4,700 feet the wind, which was not a factor at all down below, was fierce and cold, so I stayed up there only a few moments to snap a couple-three photos and to admire the astonishing forms wind-blown snow and ice create on trail signs and rock cairns. I thought I might see one or two snowshoers, perhaps even VFTTers, on the Garfield Ridge trail, but the wind must've kept people below.
About a quarter-mile down from the top I meet the one person I've seen all day, a fellow who took advantage of my trail packing to make the ascent in Stabilicers. We exchange notes and comments and head our separate ways.
Three hours, 50 minutes to the top (4.3 miles), six hours 15 minutes round trip. Back at home again: a bowl of chili and a bottle of beer. A great day: good skookum!
Photos:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/99682097@N00/sets/72157613909429326/
Steve B
The Feathered Hat
