Oh Hai, Camp Muir

Set out to reach Camp Muir at 10,000 feet today, knowing that storms would be coming in at night and that the only thing that can go wrong on the Muir snowfield is weather. When I reached Paradise I found blue skies and snow from the lot all the way up, so off I went. The going got rough just past the melting-out Pebble Creek, where the boot pack turned to post-holing, and only got worse. I really wish I'd had waterproof hiking boots, or at least a change of socks. The route is wanded all the way up and there were literally a hundred people on the mountain doing the same thing, so it's a no-brainer. Trekking poles and copious amounts of sunscreen are a must. I wore ski pants for gliassading, but there were few chutes and the ones that were still in ran out into mush quickly. I took 4hrs 20mins up, and a little over two hours down due to annoying postholing to my knees at times. Also, saw a helicopter going around back on my descent, and turns out to have been the start of an ill-fated rescue mission. A beautiful, very difficult day with just a hint of what real mountaineers experience.

That Time I Drove To Yosemite For A Weekend

With one week between semesters and a traditional 9-5 lifestyle looming ahead, the desire to hit the road was irresistible this week. I knew Yosemite was the only place I would find snow-free high elevations trails at this time of year, so I hauled ass across the border. Took a night in Reno on the way there, but drove straight through life a crazy person on the way home. But here's the thing, I got down there, and I missed my husband. I know, crazy, right? I was sitting in heavenly Tuolumne Meadows, one of my most favorite places in the world, and it just wasn't right without him. It seems that I'm never as independent or strong or adaptable as I want to be. But I try, and in the meanwhile, I see some awesome sights and visit spectacular high places before the homing beacon starts pulsing. Mount Dana was easy and fun, and anytime I'm in California it's a good thing. Part of me still wants to live in California, except now it's Yosemite instead of San Francisco. I don't think Dr. B is going to go for it this time, either. But fortunately, it's only 13 hours away.

I Take It Back: I Love Silver Star

Lots of well-consolidated snow, sunshine and fresh air, and views from South Sister to Rainier - can't complain about that.

HTFU Ride: Larch Mountain

Usually weather.gov is pretty accurate - today, it screwed me. And lately I've been too pig-headed to  to give up halfway through something.

The Corbett, OR area was supposed to be 65 degrees and partly sunny. It was apparent driving through the Gorge that I was ill-prepared with my summer gear, but that nagging voice in the back of my head as I pulled up at the bottom of Larch Mountain wasn't as loud as the one that was saying "Just do it, asshole!" With STP and the Chris King ride only a month or so away, I wasn't about to drive back to Portland and start studying for finals just yet.

I was having a fine ride, even though the riders coming down looked like hell. One of them warned me that it was "Real, REAL cold up there." I scoffed. Then it started to rain. Visibility became crap around mile marker 11. Pressing on until I hit slush at the top, I barely even saw the sign at the parking lot until it was in front of my face. Great. No view, and I'm wet, all because I'm the human equivalent of a stubborn-ass mule. I hightailed it out of there, riding the brakes hard, teeth chattering, grimacing like a freak. I saw some hikers loading up the car, and as I zoomed past them I fantasized about them covering me in down jackets in the back of their SUV and offering me hot tea. I thought about every frostbite photo I have ever seen, and every blizzard scene in every movie ever watched.

Twenty minutes later I was back at my car and stripping out of soggy lycra on the roadside. Fingers and toes in tact. Crisis averted. All in all, successful day.

Dog Mountain Spring Bloom

My plans to bike McKenzie Pass were postponed until the weather and everyone's schedules cooperate. So, while Dr B suffered up Dixie Mountain on his bike, I politely declined and headed out to do a quick and dirty training hike up Dog. The flowers are still in bloom, but I think they're on the decline. Much of the balsamroot is browning at the edges. Nevertheless, the whole meadow at the summit is dotted with color. It's a happy place, even with hundreds of weekend hikers stomping up and down.