A sort-of-birthday weekend.
I say 'sort of' because it was more a coincidence the weekend we planned some stuff happened to be the weekend before my birthday. Part of which included a ski tour with my buddy, Michael. We had pushed it back three times, hence the coincidence part of the weekend's timing. Still, it was an awesome weekend that felt a little more normal than last years' birthday.
Michael showed up for pizza night last Friday before K, S, he, and I all headed north to Mazama to camp. It'd be an early morning for him and me. We were going to ski Silver Star Mountain in the North Cascades. Our attempt two years ago was a good one with awesome snow and an epic ski, except for the lousy weather and horrible visibility. Michael shared some photos since I, for some inexplicable reason, decided not to bring a camera…
Last year's re-attempt was scuttled because of, well, COVID. This year we were hoping for, if nothing else, good enough weather to enjoy the views. Though the day started off cloudy, Michael's optimism paid off as the clouds parted just as we reached the col beneath the summit.
Backing up a bit, Silver Star holds a special place. It's a massive mountain, dominating the view just beneath the hairpin on the highway beneath Washington Pass. On the first flight and climb with my buddy Matt, we flew past the north face. It was a clear view of the ski ascent route.
Exactly five years ago, K, J, and I skied to the top of a nearby ridgeline and spied Silver Star towering in the distance.
She was frustrated when we reached that spot, wondering why she was so tired. Little did she know she was growing a tiny human that we now affectionately call Squish. Or Sefton. Or just S.
Cosmo and I, coincidentally, have found ourselves near Silver Star on our two autumn trips to the North Cascades. Once a few years ago when the first mountain snow gave it a dusting and clouds engulfed its summit.
And last year, when we backpacked to Cutthroat Pass and caught a glimpse of it after a storm.
Yeah, it's a cool peak. So naturally, I was stoked at the chance to give it another go on skis with Michael.
We woke up at 4am Saturday morning, downed some breakfast, and headed fifteen minutes up the still-closed Highway 20 to the trailhead. There's some 5,600' of elevation to be gained, which goes surprisingly quickly. First up through forest, then a mile or so of flat terrain, then just up for the remaining three thousand feet or so. It wasn't until the sun started breaking through the clouds that I pulled out my camera.
The larch were needleless, though they still gave the distinct impression of how spectacular this basin would be in autumn. Michael was also taking some photos…
The weather remained dicey as we skied onto the glacier, at times howling impressively and kicking up spindrift snow.
We finally stopped for a break on the edge of the glacier, maybe a thousand feet beneath the final headwall that led to the col between the west and east summits. As we sat, the weather continued to improve.
So we put on our ski crampons and headed up.
I did what I do, which is to sit and stare.
There was surprisingly no wind. It was magnificent. After a short break and before falling asleep for a nap, we turned our attention to the summit ridge looming above us. I headed up. After gaining maybe a hundred feet, on a sharply-inclined slope with a frightening lack of runout below, I turned to Michael and shared with him my thoughts: sans ice ax and crampons (which we had both left back in his rig)… no bueno.
I took some photos from our high point, we vowed to return for a third time next spring to summit, and then plunge-stepped our way back down to the col.
Then we ripped off our skins, clicked our boots into our skis, and made some delicate turns as we approached the face of the headwall. It was a steep, fun ski with some quick turns. Epic, and beautiful, terrain.
(Michael's shots of me)
Our legs were fried, but the skiing was light and enjoyable.
One of the joys of skiing is how fast it is, both going up (it's much more efficient to climb uphill sliding on skis than taking steps) and of course down (duh). In short order, we looked behind us and could see our turns carved in the snow seemingly far, far away.
The snow was broken up as we descended the forest back to the highway, so we opted to boot pack the way down. Just part of the joys of spring skiing.
Then we were back at his truck.
After Michael woke up from his power nap along the side of the highway, we rolled back to our camp. K and S were away playing, so he and I broke out our camp chairs and chatted next to the creek. Once they showed up, Michael headed back home. He had a wife and little daughter to get back to, and there was excitement mixed with a little regret in his voice for having to leave.
Watching him head away, the three of us piled into the van to head to a friend's house in the valley for dinner. We had another day to spend camping. This was the first time, after all, we'd taken out the van since our big trip last year.
It was really cool to take it out for just a long weekend. K did what she does and built us a fire the next morning.
We played next to the creek.
And took a walk along the trail through the valley.
Yep, K is pretty pregnant. As always, she's our hero.
Back to this being a sort-of-birthday weekend… Regardless, it was an awesome few days spent with friends and family. Also, it looked a little more normal. Birthday or not, that's certainly something to celebrate.
