Mt. EllinorIn November 1999, Jay and I climbed Mt. Ellinor, located in the southern Olympics. While Seattle lay deep in rain, we managed to escape and enjoy a pleasant day of climbing. Another typical Seattle day: rain, rain, and more rain. Well, not driving rain, like the kind where your windshield wipers can't keep up, but the heavy, misty 110% humidity kind that leaves everything wet and clammy. This is how the day begins at 6AM. No stars could be seen, no moon either and everything is coated with an oozing, dripping, saturated coating of moisture. On days like this you wonder why you're getting out of bed. But you do it anyway, because you know from past experience that the conditions in town are seldom mirrored over a 2-hour distance. Within the Puget Sound area, there exists several different "convergent zones', where dissimilar weather patterns can subsist in close proximity. Mt. Ellinor, the smaller twin and part of the Mt. Washington massif, is located at the southern tip of the Olympic Mountains, just north of Lake Cushman. Less than 2 hours from Seattle, Mt. Ellinore is a common summit destination in both summer and winter. Today, the day after Thanksgiving, slightly tired and still full from yesterday's meal, I arrive at Jay's apartment a bit after 6 AM. After we place our packs in plastic bags to keep them from getting soaked even before we arrive at our trailhead, we load them and are on our way. Sunrise doesn't occur until 7:30, so we don't receive our first light until we are almost at Hoodsport, the entrance to the Olympic Park. From here, the road changes from paved to dirt, which we follow for about 10 miles to both the Upper and Lower trailhead. Two trailheads exist because in winter, access to the Upper is normally snowed in and inaccessible. Today, at the lower elevations, snow shows only minor areas and is not very deep, easily navigated by my 4x4. However, since we weren't certain where the upper trailhead actually was located, we found an access leading into the clear-cut at the turn of the road. Parking the truck off to the side, we loaded up and headed into the mist. We were rather surprised that we actually found a real trail leading upward and following a snow melt-off. Only a few hundred feet along, and still within sight of the truck, we noticed a couple orange diamond markers nailed to trees. These serve as indicators to the beginning of a trail, and at this point, we find two of them. So we need to make a decision. Do we venture to the right (and up through the trees)? Or do we continue straight-ahead skirting the edge of the clear-cut? After looking at our Custom Correct map of the area, we choose straight ahead, because by following this line, we will eventually reach the upper trail and then be on our way. (We hope!) If the visibility was better, we would have chosen the other direction, because the upper trailhead was at the top of the small hill we chose to circumnavigate. We gained elevation quickly at first, following the faint trail that eventually led us then disappeared into the woods. This was a bit disconcerting happening so quickly, but we continued on, plunging through the wet, ankle-deep snow while keeping the uncut portion of the clear-cut to our left and a creek to our right. These are only two of the topographical features we used to guide us and keep us from getting lost. With no real trail to follow, we resort to making our own, or bush-whacking. . Up until this time, I had doubts that we would even see the summit of Ellinor. The mist is still heavy, preventing us from seeing more than a few hundred feet at a time. It's not very cold, but because of the dampness in the air, we keep our fleece jackets on to ward off the fog's moisture. With Jay's persistence and determination, we picked our way though the fallen trees, the bushes, over the creek and back again, and finally arrived at the upper trail and the beginning of the real hike. Interestingly, there was less snow on the actual trail as we climbed the well-worn hewn steps up and deeper into the forested hillside. The aromatic mixture of cool mist resting upon the various conifers brings to memory thoughts of Christmas trees and the changing seasons approaching. The air is noticeably cooler as we venture upward on the frozen trail. Our heavy boots break through the trail's icy crust to release its hidden fragrance - pungent and earthy - filling the air around us. I stopped for a moment to experience this, as I've never been on a trail where the smells were so prominent and so sweet at the same time, sharply contrasting with the crisp, clean scent of the snow-covered landscape. The freshly fallen needles of the various conifers littered the white snow and also released their pleasant evergreen aroma. We follow the trail along a forested ridgeline for approximately a mile, when it opens up before us, offering a choice of two paths. To our right is the famous "Chute", which is a snow filled avalanche gully that provides one of the best and fastest descents from the Ellinore summit. When the snow is consolidated and safe, this is also the winter ascent route, and the most direct path to the top. However, we choose to continue straight ahead, along the "summer route", because we didn't yet have enough snow cover to completely fill in the boulders of the Chute. With an incomplete snow cover, our feet and legs may be caught in unseen holes and other obstacles. So, as the weather begins to improve, glimpses of the peaks afar off entice us to keep moving upward, through the deepening snow. The clouds become a lacy whisper of mist, teasing us with partial views of the slopes and summit ahead. Soon even the most persistent of clouds gradually gives way, unable to hide the beauty of the bluest of skies overhead. There are no paths now and we continue in ever-deepening snow. Taking turns leading the way, Jay and I make slow progress upward. Eventually, we break free of the tree level and pause for a moment at a level area. Directly ahead of us is Ellinor's sister summit, Mt. Washington, which is almost 1000 feet taller. However, with a small hill in our way, Ellinore is out of sight and to our left. The snow is deep here and I figure it's time to put the snowshoes on. Jay can't because he didn't bring any. My thinking was that trail-breaking would be easier (significantly easier!!) At this point, we hear a sound behind us and realize that another climber, Jim, and his small dog, Newton, are following our path. |
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