Mount Saint Helens

After tea and oats, we began our hike at Climbers’ Bivouac trailhead at 12:30am. With neither moon nor clouds between us and them, the stars were exceptionally bright and numerous to the eye. We moved quickly up Ptarmingan Trail (#216a), our headlamps lighting our way. I couldn’t find find confirmation of this on the internet, but I believe this trail is named after the white-tailed ptarmigan, or snow quail, as this the only type of ptarmigan living in the vicinity. We didn’t see a snow quail on this trip but they are the smallest bird in the grouse family and live in the high altitudes on or above the tree line, which is where we were heading. After hiking the first 2 1/4 miles and 1,100 vertical feet fairly quickly, we came out of the trees for our first rest.

The advantage of  hiking at night is that you can’t see how steep the trail is in front of you, nor can you see how far it is that you still have to go. The disadvantage of hiking at night is that it is harder to see the trail and it is much easier to make a mistake. Unfortunately, we made one by inadvertently continuing straight while the trail turned to the left. We soon found ourselves scrambling up a steep slope through loose dirt and rock. Everything looks kinda the same up there, especially at night. Rather than go back downhill, we slowly moved to the left and eventually made our way back to the trail. The first part of the rocky section was more brutal than it needed to be and sapped some of the strength we would wish for later on. 

We thought the climb could be a little easier  as we left the boulder section and reached the scree, but this was not to be. As we came out of the boulders past the monitoring station we were met by a strong wind. Most of us quick put on another jacket, gloves, and hat, and leaned into it. My daughter didn’t bring her gloves, so she pulled an extra set of wool socks she had in her pack over her hands. Up we went. The wind was roaring down the mountain from the North Northwest was moving over the Dryer Glacier. Soon the left side of my face was numb, my left eyeball dry and itchy, and my left cheek and lips frozen. Far worse than this, my upper body was  catching the wind like a sail, pushing back against every step. Emily was ahead of me, but stopped. When I caught up with her, she had taken off her sock “mittens” as they weren’t working. I gave her my gloves and we both started moving again. My hands were now exposed to the wind forcing me to stop several times to warm my hands in my pockets. She moved well despite the wind finishing her ascent before me.  I don’t play basketball, but I imagine that the pride I felt in her that moment wasn’t dissimilar to the feeling a experiences the first time their child bests them on the court. 

One slow step at a time, I too reached the crater rim. Miraculously, there was no wind at the top. Just perfect views in all direction. While we were climbing up, the clouds had moved in below us, and surrounded the mountain like a sea. In the distance, other major volcanic peaks rose like islands:  Mountains Adams, Rainier, and Hood. To the southwest, the shadow of the mountain darkened the clouds and the valley below. Ascending a mountain is a moving experience, and even more special when sharing the moment with your daughter for the first time.