Cave Ridge
May 1999, a trip by myself to Snoqualmie Pass and Cave Ridge, as a preparation to climb Mt. Rainier a month later.
The ski area was closed so the parking lot was not very crowded. I did notice a large group of what I assumed to be Mountaineers, climbing up the Alpental slope, probably learning how to use their ice axes.
I quickly got my things together, and headed across the road to where my 'trail' began. Actually there is no trail; it was a snow slope, covered with a 3-inch layer of fresh snow that no one had yet walked upon. I put on my snowshoes and began up the slope, into the dense layer of trees some 500 feet up. At this point, I noticed another set of snowshoe tracks that seemed to be leading in the same general direction I was going, so I followed them. The tracks were fresh, and I knew were just made with in the past 30 minutes. As I followed the tracks, quickly gaining elevation, I'm always amazed how quickly my heart rate increases and how my breathing gets heavy. But this typically only lasts 30 minutes or so, until my body gets into the rhythm of the ascent. I look back often for two reasons. One, to see the view of the valley below me, and how the clouds drift around the mountains, playing hide-and-seek with the peaks all around. Secondly, I like to see what my descent will look like, and get a picture of it in my mind, with various landmarks, in case the visibility deteriorates.
In less than an hour, I caught up to what I had thought were two climbers ahead of me, turned out to be three. Two men and a woman. I'm not a real fast hiker/climber, but I easily overtook them. However, rather than just blasting past, I socialized a bit with them and decided to climb with them for a while. It was about this point that I realized that the snow was not in great condition for the kind of trip I originally planned. The new snow accumulation on the older, more compact snow layers, created a dangerous avalanche combination, which could let go at any time. We stayed within the trees, where the snow is 'attached' better to the mountain. As I reached the first (stronger) climber, I took over the task of kicking the first steps in the new snow that gave the others a 'stairway' to follow. It's always more work for the first one, but that's ok by me, because it's also the best workout (something I need if I'm climbing the Big One, Mt. Rainier, in a month).
This particular way to the junction of the mountains (called Cave Ridge) was a new route for me. I felt real good, even though it was steep and I was sweating a lot. The weather was continually changing throughout the day so that the various layers of clothing I normally bring got a lot of use. It started off snowing, and then the sky opened up revealing some blue sky. Then the wind picked up and closed the 'sucker hole' with a fresh onslaught of snow, decreasing the visibility. As quickly as it began, it was gone, and warmed up again. This warming trend also made the conditions more difficult. The snow gets slushier, and our feet don't get the bite and solid placement we prefer. I took several photos of the hills, trees, and a hazy sun darting behind clouds and mountaintops. We continued up, then past a rock wall, covered in long icicles.
With one more push up a steep slope, with me in the lead, we topped out at Cave Ridge.
At the top of Cave Ridge, if the visibility were there, I'd be able to see the 1500 rise to the top of Snoqualmie, to my left and the narrow, tree-covered summit of Guye to my right. However, now, as my companions of the morning began their decent, leaving me alone, I could see only several hundred feet in any direction. The ground her is flat, and I decided to see how far Cave Ridge goes. As I began my trek along the barren gully separating the two mountains, I could see only the snow-covered hills, trees and rock out-croppings. I had no view of the surrounding countryside, only that in my immediate area. I heard no sound save that of my snowshoes and heavy breathing. Occasionally, I heard the sound of ice chunks breaking free from captivity to be lost in the snow beneath.
I look back and see a thickening fog overtaking the trees of the slopes I just ascended, and slowly begin creeping toward me, obscuring even the meager view I once had. Within 10 minutes, the wind picks up and swirls of snow buzz around me looking for a way to break through the protection of warmth that I'm wearing. But, no sooner than it arrived, it also departed. Maybe this mini-storm realized that I was going to continue to the end of the Ridge, regardless of the pummeling it would give me!
As I reached the end of the gully, terminating the Ridge floor, In better days, I knew I'd be looking into the Commonwealth Basin, with Kendall Peak immediately across and directly in front of me. To the right of Kendall would be Red Mountain. But I could see none of that, only the unspoiled snow covering the ground (that is, until I walked upon it, creating my mark, indicating that I had been here). I turned a corner to the right and began a short climb up a step hill, which would be my high point of the day - 4900 feet. As I reached my spot, I looked down and noticed that I was not the first to be here today. Someone (or two) had been there earlier, and I saw the tracks that stopped, then started once again back on them.