Cave Ridge 2February 2000, a trip by myself to Snoqualmie Pass. The morning was cold and clear with a forecast that promised a sunny, cloudless sky with temperatures in the high 40's. To me, this means that the snow will be firm in the morning, but as the sun beats down on the open slopes, it will turn to a sloppy mush, that could mean problems later when I begin my return - called avalanche danger. I enjoy the one-hour drive through Kent, then up toward Tiger Mountain on Hiway 18. This takes me from suburb, to rural, to foothills in a very short period of time. Finally, travelling east on I-90 past North Bend where Mt. Si dominates the town, seemingly to watch over it. From North Bend, a steady uphill winds me past green farms, ranches and into the mountains. The early morning sun sparkles off the frozen dew when the sun escapes from its hiding from between the peaks. The hills seem to undulate and roll upward as I wind through the inclined valley. Soon the rounded tops become more rugged and jagged, with overhanging rocky cliffs. I pass McClellen's Butte off to my right, one of my favorite hiway views, as I continue toward the Pass. To my left is the barren and treeless Granite Mountain, full of snow with the lookout just barely visible at the top. By now the sun is making a hasty ascent into the sky. Directly in front of me, peering up over the peaks, the sun glows a bright amber color casting a light that washes the snow in a brilliant white. In short order, I turn off the hiway, and drive to the parking lot, but my gaze is transfixed as usual, to Guye Peak's west face. This sheer cliff is a 1000 foot rock wall so steep, that snow doesn't adhere to it, except within the cracks and crevices. As I slow the truck and look, I can detect possible routes to the summit that follow an unbroken, zig-zag line of ledges to a blocky final pitch. One day, I'll climb that, but not today. At last, I arrived at the parking lot a bit after 8 and was finally loaded and moving by 8:30. The sky, unlike last time several days ago, was clear, blue and cloudless so that I could finally see the route -- and from where I stood in the parking lot, it seemed much steeper that I remembered! Ahead of me, I see two gullies (or snow fields, avalanche chutes) leading steeply and directly up toward two notches (low points) that separate Guye Peak from Snoqualmie Mountain. This is called Cave Ridge, and will be my first destination. I need to make it to this point before I can find the route to Snoqualmie Mountain. Without a clear picture where the route went, it would be very easy to get off route and under some very steep cliffs. Fortunately, last week we were right on target, so I'll start at the same place. I began by heading toward a grove of trees at the bottom and junction of two snowfields (actually avalanche chutes, as I could see yesterday's activity in the form of hardened snowballs littered from the top of the snow gully to about three-fourths the way down.). The snow was firm enough that I didn't need snowshoes just yet as I snaked through the trees, making my own course through a crust of new and unbroken snow. I soon emerge from the trees at the rightmost snowfield. Realizing that the snow is much softer here, I stop and put my snowshoes on. In an avalanche prone area such as this, the correct route through it is along the tree-lined sides, which is what I did. Essentially, it was a straight on shot from the bottom to the top of the gully, toward another tree grove that marked the upper half of the slope. I was creating my own trail, not following any other tracks or markers. Occasionally, I would look back and view the valley as it fell away behind me. The peaks were beginning to emerge over the tops of the trees, the open Alpental ski area dotted with skiers and snowboarders swooshing on the groomed snow. My eyes follow my singular snowshoe prints as they skirt between the trees and the broken snow debris, appearing as if I was climbing a narrow staircase. Fortunately, he sun was hidden by Guye Peak which kept the snow in shadows and rather crusty and hard. Soon, I neared the top of the gully, where the slope steepens even more and my progress is slowed. I can't skirt the gully any longer and must go through the hardened debris. If an avalanche slope must be crossed, the safest place is in the early morning and as high as you can, which is precisely where and when I am. Carefully I pick my way through the clumps of avalanche debris, eyeing an opening in the trees that is about 100 feet directly in front of me. One slip here and I slide a few hundred feet down the hill. Not dangerous, but certainly at a cost of wasted effort! (not to mention the bruised butt I'd have from the hard snow if I didn't stop, which would be the case since I didn't have my ice ax out yet). Finally, I'm at the trees, and find that the slope steepens even more and I realize that the cleats on the snowshoes don't have the bite I need in the hard, icy snow. I thrash a bit, my feet were slipping out of the snow, my hands grasping for something to hold onto, trying to gain the last few feet. I finally make it to the safety of a small tree that marks the end of the first stage and the beginning of the next. Here, I relax (sort of) and decide to take out my ice ax and put my crampons on (good idea, huh?). This takes about 20 minutes as I need to be very careful that I don't drop anything that would slide down the hill I just wrestled my way up. Everything I do here is very deliberate and cautious. I take my pack off, get out the picket, drive it into the snow and clip my pack securely to it. Then the snowshoes come off, one at a time, and the crampons go on. I take this time to drink some and eat some, too. Now I'm ready for part two: straight up this very steep slope, picking my way through the trees in an attempt to find Cave Ridge. |
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