Originally published in the Mazama Bulletin—view the full September/October 2021 issue.
As mountaineers, we all know what it’s like when things don’t go to plan. Partners bail, the weather gets bad, smoke smothers the area, injuries happen, gear fails, or we simply don’t feel up to whatever it is we need to do.
Last year, my partner and I wanted to make the most of what was left of the summer with some friends of ours. After being stuck inside and in the city for the entire spring and the better part of the summer, it was time to get out and have some (socially distanced) fun. We were up for whatever—hiking, backpacking, rock climbing, mountaineering—but preferably somewhere high up a mountain.
My friend group has been wanting to attempt Mt. Shuksan for a few years. In 2019, we got most of the planning in place for the climb. It was our Plan A. When that fell through due to bad weather, we were thwarted all the way through to Plan D—rock climbing in northeastern Oregon and backpacking in the Wallowas—after falling back on the “pack all the gear and just drive somewhere” plan of action. It was a fantastic trip regardless.
So when Mt. Shuksan came up in conversation again in 2020, we were determined. The bit of rain forecasted for the first day and night of our climb was worth getting together and back outside. We soon found ourselves camped in Marblemount, ready for an early drive to the ranger station then on to the trailhead. Sure enough, the next day dawned dark and damp, but we weren’t deterred.
Standing outside our cars in pretty heavy rain at the trailhead, I knew something was astray. We hadn’t even left the parking lot and my raincoat was already soaking through. That’s weird, it had never given me trouble before, even in the notoriously nasty weather of Patagonia. So on went a spare garbage bag over my shoulders. Since this doesn’t work (surprise), all my layers were soon soaked through—and we’d only hiked around a mile. I was miserable, and I admit I was stubborn and thoroughly unsuccessful at improving my rapidly worsening mood.
During brief hiking breaks, we had “how do we feel, should we continue on?” conversations. We discussed things like if it could be a complete whiteout and freezing snowstorm up at camp (probably), if we could hope to dry out our stuff tonight (probably not), if we could start a fire to warm up and dry out (no), and whether the weather was worse than we expected (yes). After these conversations—and, I regret to say, complaining from me—we decided to turn around.
Well, so much for Mt. Shuksan, again. The entire northern Cascades region was covered with a huge storm, so our only options were to bail and just drive our non-carpooling cars back to Portland or find something else that had better conditions. Luckily, the weather around Mt. Rainier looked decent. We’d burned one day so far so needed something we could do car-to-car with the gear we already had. Unicorn Peak fit the bill, so we were off.
The next morning near Longmire dawned sunny and pleasant—what a relief! We got a decently early start from the trailhead and made good time through the hiking part of the climb. When we got to the first of the steeper snowfields, it was in good condition. Same for the second, and the third. In fact, apart from a minor off-route scramble up some slightly spicy rock, the climb went uneventfully and well all the way to the summit block. And it was a beautiful day to boot.
We had to wait for another party to finish rappelling the summit block, and then it was our turn. One of my trad-inclined friends lead the pitch gracefully, and we followed up one by one. Making it to the top of my first alpine rock summit was amazing! The view of Mt. Rainier and the surrounding Tatoosh Range was stunning, and the company was even better. We had some lunch at the top before rappelling down. After a few enjoyable glissades and lots more pictures, we were back to beating our boots on the dirt trail out. And (surprise!) we were celebrating a birthday so there were even cupcakes waiting for us in the car.
There were plenty of good lessons on this trip. Don’t get your heart set on a specific objective—things just don’t always work out. Being open to other options, even ones that require a large change of plans (and a lot of driving time), can prevent heartbreak as well as the potential for much more serious problems or injury. Also, check your gear. I’d assumed my raincoat was fine, but testing it out during the lead-up to a bigger adventure could have helped. And heading into the mountains with fun, understanding, and open-minded friends and partners goes a long way towards making trips that don’t go to plan still a success, and ones that do even better.
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