As mountain guides, we are regularly faced with making good decisions in an ever-changing environment.  For me, staying flexible, knowing my options, and constantly evaluating the plan are keys to doing this safely and successfully.  A backpacking trip with friends this weekend, served as a good reminder that whether you’re in the vast wilderness of Alaska, or your backyard wilderness, the same principles apply.

Our original plan was to backpack a section of the Pacific Crest Trail between two mountain passes.  It would be a journey of about 30 miles through moderate terrain.  A good 2-day trip with the boys.  Originally, we had assumed that the trail would be mostly snow free and though this was new territory, we could follow it with relatively little trouble.  However, as the weekend drew near some light snowfall changed things.  With the possibility of the trail being obscured by snow, out came the topo maps for a more detailed study of the route with map and compass navigation in mind.  Friday afternoon arrived and so did the troops.  Excited for the trip, we packed gear and food and made ready to leave early Saturday morning.  One of my friends, surprised us with gifts of small pocket harmonicas to play on the trip.  One last check of gear and food and somebody suggested checking the highway conditions report one last time to see if there had been any changes.  Alas, the highway that would provide access to our starting point had closed that day.  Out came the topo maps again, searching for an alternate route into the area we wanted to hike.  Finding none, it became clear that we needed to abandon our original plans and change our itinerary at the last minute.  We settled on another section of the PCT and got some rest.

As we hiked in early Saturday morning, we found the trail partially obscured with 2″ of fresh snow.  This was no problem and we made camp that afternoon within striking distance of the highest peak in the area; planning to climb it in the morning.  The night was cold, but harmonica music and the company of good friends warmed our camp.

Morning found us slipping and sliding up snow-covered granite boulders en route to the summit.  The thin layer of snow changed the character of the climb dramatically, especially with just our ice axes for traction.  One of my friends only has sight in one eye, and upon reaching the summit was extremely frustrated with the effect his impaired depth perception was having on his footing.  However, after a quick snack and a little harmonica music spirits were once again high, and we set out to traverse a high, thin ridgeline to a neighboring peak.  We quickly found ourselves precariously picking our way across the slippery, snow-covered granite of the ridge; usually a moderate scramble in the summer.  A meeting was called and our plan re-evaluated.  Though the ridge (with 500 foot drops in some places) was slightly unappealing, we decided that at that time of day it offered our best option.  We pushed on and after some airy 4th class+ terrain (including sections where we had to hoist our packs on a rope) we reached our second summit and lunch.  By this time, the middle of the day had passed, impaired depth perception continued to frustrate my friend, and the tedious snow-covered route was taking its toll.  Again, we re-evaluated our position.  We’d originally planned to hike from this ridge to a section of trail that would take us to a highway where we could hitch hike back to the car.  But, given the conditions, the possibilities of this were waning.

The descent from here was unfamiliar, but with the aid of a topo map we plotted a course off of the mountain.  By this time the sun was becoming low in the sky and we feared that soon the ever-present meltwater on the granite boulders would become ice, severely reducing our options.  We descended as quickly as the terrain allowed and, as is frequently the case in the wilderness, made much slower progress than expected; continually zigging and zagging and re-evaluating our route to avoid the worst of the snow and ice-covered granite slabs that surrounded us.  Our pace was cut in half, and when we finally reached the bottom, fatigue tugged at our limbs and the sun was well on its way to setting.  With 7 more miles to go to the car, we debated camping another night or pressing on.  In the end, after re-hydrating, snacking, and some more harmonica music, we decided to push on.  At that point we weren’t far from intersecting our trail from the previous day and if we could find our footprints before it got too dark, we’d be alright.  We topped off our water, added layers, and prepared to leave.  Re-energized we picked our way amongst frozen pools and granite benches.  Just as dark set in, we picked up our trail and settled in for the long trudge home by the light of our headlamps.  Stumbling wearily along in the snowy dark, it would have been easy to let our spirits sink.  But, once again some amateur harmonica music, GORP breaks, and a sky full of stars kept us going till we reached the car.

So, whether your adventures this winter take you far from home, or just outside of the backyard, stay flexible, stay tuned in, and choose your options carefully.  Oh yeah…………and don’t forget the harmonica.

Matt Vial - General Manager