mountains

Snow and Skulls, Hiking Around the Salzburg Lakes, Austria

mhoustonfl1 Comment

It was still mid-October.

The 24/7 church bells clanging next to our hotel in Strobl didn’t keep us up quite as much on our last night there, so we were a bit better rested for our trek to our next stop, Bad Ischl. The weather was cool, and great for hiking. Our walk started off along the banks of the River Ischl – lots of flood control and hydropower. Some pretty woodland sections but not nearly as dramatic as the fairy dells we discovered the day before.

The hike passed through a number of small villages. The houses here, even if old, look so much newer than those in England. White stucco with dark wood work and balconies.

We finally reached Nunsensee (Lake), which looked almost like a dugout reservoir. We were worried about rain so we didn’t even stop for lunch and reached Bad Ischl close to 2 p.m. A church greeted us at the outskirts. I wanted to go in, but two people were in there, clearly praying. The flowers in the terraced gardens were all labeled.

Bad Ischl is an old spa town of the Habsburg regime, located by the river. The Goldeness-Schiff hotel, where we were staying, faces the River Traun, which is part of the River Ischl. (The water geography seemed very complicated.) The hotel was very modern; we had a small room without a view, but perfectly adequate. They gave us a coupon for a free drink for agreeing not to have daily cleaning. No decision there!

We decided against a visit to Kaiservilla, the summer residence of Emperor Franz Joseph I, and Empress Elisabeth of Austria (known as Sisi). It was very expensive and we only had an hour before closing, so instead we chose to have a drink at an open air cafe (under the awning, while it rained around us), and enjoy window shopping (especially the modern takes on traditional Austrian dress). We also spent time in Sisi Park. Bad Ischl pays homage to her (and her husband) in many ways (for example, cartoonish metal sculptures of them gardening in the park…).

Dinner was at the Spoarhead Gastropoda. Very nice and a nice server, who managed well with few other servers, and appreciated our patience. I always feel like an ambassador for the U.S. on these trips. Chicken Paprika for J and couscous chicken bowl for me. Austria closes down early. We were back in our room by 8:30.

Sunday dawned to a very elegant breakfast, with Prosecco on tap! I wish I had felt like trying it, just to say I’d done so. And a fresh squeezed orange juice maker – I’ve never seen one of those before. We again were anxious about the weather so we skipped the local hill walk that was on our itinerary and instead walked along the banks of the Traun, by lots of sports fields, to the almost empty gondola station. The gondola took us up almost 4000 feet in just 10-15 minutes. Wow! At least the gondola came to a nice slow speed at the top so we could step off.

It was very cloudy, misty, and the “hut” where we’d hoped to have lunch was closed (as was most everything on Sunday). We took off up the mountain to the Katrinkogel, with only a few others hikers around. Tall evergreens gave way to short ones – and then it started to hail (small round pellets), shortly turning into genuine snow. It was very arid, dry and felt much better than rain. While this wasn’t a hard trail, there were certainly lots of steps.

After snowy views on Katrina, we backtracked and took another spur trail to the higher Elferkogel – we were the only people up there. Evergreens beautifully snow tipped and energy emanating from the crisp air. On the way down the clouds started to clear, and once on the gondola the views were great.

We walked back the same way to the hotel. It was clouding up so we still didn’t want to risk the other hill. We found zero places to eat. Everything was closed. Eventually we made it back to the hotel and ventured out to the nearby cafe for a beer – they didn’t even serve food. We were under an umbrella, but then the skies simply opened. We spent the last part of the afternoon in the our room planning the Italy portion of the trip. A nice dinner at the hotel restaurant – it seemed quite popular, but of course, it was one of the only places open.

On Monday, after another nice breakfast (Prosecco was on tap even on a Monday!), we packed and took the train to the train station for Hallstatt, which is a UNESCO world heritage sight. From the station you catch a ferry to the other side of Hallstadtsee, where the actual village is located. There’s a replica of this place in China, and there were tons of Asian tourists, even out of season.

The town, built on the side of a cliff, is spectacular and filled with flowers. Salt mining was its claim to fame. The 19th century Lutheran church (first non-Catholic church I’ve seen ) by the dock has a large poster explaining that’s where the unfortunate Protestants were sent during the Counter Reformation. The Catholic Church is high up on the hill, surrounded by a cemetery, each grave with its own flower plot.

But Hallstatt is best known for the Charnel House. We saw the entrance by the cemetery and decided to pay the 2 euros to go in, little knowing that we were about to walk into an ossuary for skulls. When the graveyard became too congested, the families brought the skulls into the ossuary. (Not sure what happened to the rest of the remains.) But rather than just plop the skulls down, they were painted with family crests, dates, and remembrances. I actually found it surprisingly peaceful. J, on the other hand, found it quite creepy.

We then ferried back across the lake to start our seven mile walk to Bad Goisern, our next stop. The first part was around the lake – beautiful views, and much of the trail hangs off the cliffs over the lake. Mountains towering over the lake, and you could actually see a nearby glacier. The trail paralleled the railroad track near the lake. Lots of very small yellow finches accompanied us. There were some beautiful private homes. I can’t judge wealth in this country, but at least in the rural parts, it’s hard to see anything I would characterize as poverty.

Eventually, we left the lakeshore to walk along the banks of the River Traun, which feeds into the lake. My favorite bit was the tiny village of Undersee. There, along the street in front of someone’s house, was a table of gems and fossils for sale on the honor system. I bought a beautiful ammonite for five euros.

A very nice, easy walk.

Bad Goisern is a real, little town, not just a tourist place. We stayed at the 17th century Hotel Moserwirt, in a large corner room that even had a balcony. After a grocery store trip, we had a lovely drink on the balcony with the late afternoon sun illuminating the mountains. The day was topped off with a dinner of venison and pork at the hotel restaurant.

We’d finished our Austrian hike. Now back to Vienna, and then to Nice.

A Pilgrimage to St. Wolfgang, Austria

mhoustonflLeave a comment

It was October 12. The next stage of our Austrian adventures involved a hike from St. Gilgen to St. Wolfgang and a ferry to Strobl. Incidentally, one of the many things I learned on this trip is that you can download any language from Google translator onto your phone and use it even when you don’t have Wi-Fi or cell. That turns out to be invaluable when you’re in a German speaking country and your only German consists of Gesundheit.

Once again, a very nice breakfast buffet at our St. Gilgen hotel (Kendler Hotel). J and I are getting used to the pushed together twin beds, each of which has its own duvet. It turns out that minimizes a lot of arguments about who has pulled the covers off of whom. This coffee machine was exceptionally good, with at least six plus types of coffees, and once again, many types of breads (you are given a basket, just so you can completely carbo load), meats, cheese, eggs, fruit, yoghurt.

The hike from St. Gilgen to St. Wolfgang is an actually a pilgrimage route for St. Wolfgang himself. He lived as a hermit, later founding a monastery in St. Wolfgang. Lots of information boards along the way told his story, including in English at first…but then someone clearly became tired of translating and they were in German only.

Some very steep uphills made the trail markers that depicted pilgrims carrying heavy crosses quite appropriate. A small white church stood at the peak, right by a spring (shrine) that was supposed to have healing properties. Although I felt I could use some healing properties by that point, I resisted the urge to take off my boots and dabble my feet. The trail had a nice mix of up and down, and reminded me a bit of the Balkans.

One of many Virgin Mary shrines
Two Yogis – Look Closely

We reached St. Wolfgang in time for lunch at a cafe by the church. The very young servers seemed overwhelmed, so it left a bit to be desired. St. Wolfgang is quite the tourist spot, but still retains a lot of charm. Nice little boathouses line the lakeside; it looked like you could rent them. And I was amused by all the statues of yogis! It was quite the contrast to the Virgin Mary icons we were seeing everywhere, at stops on trails, above front doors.

The 15th century church, right beside the lake, was amazing – painted ceilings, multiple carved alters.

We bought our ferry tickets online and took the 15:45 to Strobl, where we were to stay for two nights. Like the buses, the ferries leave right on the dot. It was about a 20-25 minute ride across the lake to the far end. Strobl feels smaller than St. Wolfgang, although it looks bigger on the map. I think it’s just less touristy.

A fair number of places were closed for the season. We stayed at the Hotel Strobler, very nice and convenient, but right by the church which rings its bells every 15 minutes, 24 hours a day. Our window looked out on a well-maintained and colorful graveyard, decorated with flower gardens atop each grave.

After a walk down to Lake Wolfgang (Wolfgangsee), we had dinner at a brewery with very interesting food. I had a vegetarian meal of baked potato with sour cream, root vegetables and chestnuts. J had Wiener schnitzel (not so unusual). Sleep was a bit hard to come by, with the church bells clanging every 15 minutes.

The next day was Friday the 13th. After our somewhat disrupted night, we made it to a grocery store to pick up lunch food for our day hike. We started off by passing the elementary school track races; lanes had been marked off by the lake, and there was lots of excitement.

The start of the Burgl Panaramaweg (Trail) is neat. In contrast to the ancient Wolfgang pilgrimage we had taken the day before, it opened in 1982. The trail starts off on a boardwalk tethered to the side of a mountain as you round the Burgl Rock. It then meanders through a valley (replete with very nice cows, all wearing bells), and though a pass and up, up, up to the Schwarzensee (see means lake).

On the way, we walked through beautiful mossy areas that looked like fairy spots, biodiverse forests, followed by spread out tall pines with light dappling through. The lake seems small compared to the others, but it’s large enough when you walk around it.

We had a nice picnic lunch in a secluded spot on the banks, and made it back to St. Wolfgang (where we’d been the day before) in time to catch the same 15:45 ferry.

As I wrote this diary entry, we were enjoying a drink in the garden at the Hotel Strobler while vaguely watching the only other Americans we’ve seen (two men, investments bankers?), who were also on the ferry, trying to figure out how to order drinks.

Our final night we had dinner at Kirchenwirt – we even made reservations. J had a goulash, and I had spinach dumplings. Fortunately we were either so tired or so used to the every 15 minute church bells we didn’t even hear them that night. A good thing, because the next day was 9 miles to Bad Ischl.

Road Trip U.S.A. – Living It Up in Deadwood, on the Way to Badlands

mhoustonflLeave a comment

After leaving Yellowstone, we had to drive practically the full length of Wyoming, along the northern side. The landscape varied between high prairies and rolling hills, and ultimately morphed into higher hills and mounds of orange, white, and green.

We stopped for lunch at the City Park in Cody, Wyoming, across the street from the high school. The whole town seemed right out of the 1950s, and I kept wondering what it would be like to grow up there. The city park was very nice; people having picnics, a Sunday, quiet.

After Cody, things got wilder. Some very desolate two lane roads (the routes Google Maps picks out are interesting, to say the least). After the colorful mounds (if they had been green they reminded me of Moundville, in Alabama), we started to climb up and up into the incredible Big Horn National Forest. Massive gorges, edged by towering rust grey walls, outlines of rock structures that looked like imaginary cities against the sky. We reached well over 9000 feet elevation, and the good old Explorer just kept chugging along.

Finally we left the Big Horn area, and returned to long straightaways – only to encounter yet more mountains. We finally crossed the border into South Dakota…where gambling is legal.

Deadwood, very close to Sturgis, site of motorcycle rallies, can only be described as insane. No other word for it. We stayed at the historic Franklin Hotel, which was a world class celebrity spot from 1903 to 1929. It was then converted into apartments until it was rehabbed in the 2000s.

The bottom floor is an opulent 1900s recreation with casino, but the rooms are likely as they were in the apartment days. The same wainscoting, fixtures, and tiles. A very comfortable king size bed and it was pretty great to take a shower after three full days of camping. Free parking and a coupon for a free drink in the casino. Dinner was in the basement restaurant, which was very crowded, but it was reasonably priced and actually very good. We also had a great server, who told us all about the wildlife loop at Custer State Park.

After breakfast, we strolled down the main drag. Deadwood is not only the site of the TV series, but was THE place to party for miners in the 1870s who had struck gold in South Dakota. According to the New York Times in 1877 – it was full of flim flam men, brothels, and gambling. Currently, there are lots of historic hotels, western wear, and casinos. Every shop has a bar, and people start drinking very early. It’s a unique vibe, to say the least.

We left Deadwood to drive through the plains to Rapid City, where we made a Walmart grocery store shop. I’m a lot more of a Walmart fan after this trip.

We finally reached Custer State Park, and had lunch at the nice visitors center. Wooded, evergreen black hills, interspersed with grassy plains. Very bucolic. On our way to the wildlife loop, a huge herd of bison crossed the road right in front of us. We immediately say a pronghorn (antelope), more bison, a mule deer, wild donkeys (left over from an old tourist attraction), and lots of prairie dogs.

After Custer State Park, we decided we couldn’t stand the shame of admitting we hadn’t seen Mt. Rushmore, even though we had not planned to visit. So, with me at the wheel, we took the Iron Mountain Road to Mt. Rushmore. The road is crazily and intentionally curvy. It’s the counterpart of the Needles Highway. You go through three tunnels, and at the third the four heads of presidents carved into Mt. Rushmore are perfectly framed. It is remarkable, regardless of your views of taking a natural (and sacred) landscape and carving presidents’ heads into them. The little town at its base is the epitome of tacky tourism.

After the hairpin turns and corkscrew bridges, it was a positive relief to be back on the interstate. But it wasn’t long before we were back on S.D. 44 – over prairies, and suddenly, in the distance, white jagged walls emerged in the distance. If I wasn’t fairly confident we were on Earth, it really could have been a scene from another planet. We were about to reach Badlands National Park.

Road Trip U.S.A. – A Taste of the Tetons

mhoustonfl1 Comment

Jackson Hole may be best known for skiing, but snowless summer months offer plenty of entertainment.

Although we are hardly equestrians, J and I have gone horseback riding during many of our travels. So far we have managed trail rides in South Africa (that one also involved zebras), Hawaii, Russia, Croatia, and Arizona, to name a few. The Tetons seemed an appropriate addition.

We met up with our niece, F (who really does live near Nice, France), as she was the only of our family group willing to brave the large four legged creatures that were to take us up one of the nearby mountains. She rode a very hungry “Chuckles,” J had a chunky “OT” (for Overtime), and I was blessed with Rhinestone. Apparently the trail company has over a thousand horses between Grand Teton National Park and one other location. Beautiful wildflowers, including lots of Indian Paintbrush, which is the Wyoming state flower. My favorite part was when our guide instructed us to get a move on so our horses weren’t spooked by the nearby bear cub who had climbed a tree, with Mama Bear right below.

Next up was a drive around the beautiful Lake Jennie loop. It was rainy but that didn’t keep us from enjoying sandwiches and a beer at Dornans, a long time Jackson establishment. And saw another bear. Bears were sort of a theme in the Tetons.

The afternoon saw a short but fun Lake Phelps hike. This part of the park is on the Lawrence Rockefeller Preserve. The Rockefellers, who had built a large estate on the property, donated it all to the park on the condition that all man made structures were to be torn down and the area returned to nature. Towering mountains peering over at a serene mountain lake. And on the way back we encountered a very large moose.

The following day, which was beautifully sunny, our hiking party consisted of my sister in law, T, J and me. I think the others were turned off by the fact the trail bore the auspicious name, Death Canyon. After driving through some of the many road construction sites (it seems as though most of the USA is currently building roads), we entered the park and ventured just beyond Phelps Lake. The trail starts wooded and a bit of an uphill, and then a very steep downhill, which you unfortunately know you will face up on the way back. You cross a number of boulder fields, but the trail is so well constructed you aren’t even aware of the exposure. Meadows of yellow daisies and purple thistles (which are not native, apparently), periwinkle blue flowers that looked like bluebells, and deep purple wild snapdragons. We walked alongside a river that cascaded into waterfalls before encountering a long uphill slog to the saddle right below Static Peak, at the patrol station. We keep going until the IPhone promised us we were at 8000 feet. I’m not sure what our total elevation gain was but it seemed considerable.

We pulled out our Maasai blanket from Tanzania and had a great picnic, which fortified us for a fast downhill followed by the uphill section we knew was coming. 

We couldn’t leave Jackson without some exploration of the town. Yes, we did see the iconic antler arches, browsed through a mountaineering store, and took advantage of the Snake River Brewery.

A very fun spot, and even the fact I left a hiking sock in T’s dryer didn’t seem that important. I guess it met up with the hat left in the Yorkshire Dales and the visor left in Hot Springs. I’m considering a blog post called “things I left behind on sabbatical.”

The NSB of Northern Spain – Plentzia, Basque Country

mhoustonflLeave a comment

Because daughter S had the strongest feelings about where we should stay in northern Spain, we left the AirBnb choice up to her. Hence, we ended up in Plentzia (Basque), Plencia (Spanish), a town that I can only describe as the New Smyrna Beach of northern Spain. Those of you from Florida will understand.

Actually, it’s an absolutely lovely small beach town about 30 minutes outside of Bilbao. And it did remind me of NSB – lots of family groups and grandparents escorting their small charges off for a day at the seaside. This was not a place for non-local tourists. We might have heard some French, but ours were practically the only U.S. accents we heard our whole time there.

Getting there was not without mishap. As there were six of us (actually, S took charge of this and ended up with really good fares), we rented two small cars. J, son in law N, and S went off to retrieve them from the airport in San Sebastián, while T, A, and I closed down the Airbnb and moved all our luggage down the three flights. All was going well – except for the fact that all the bridges in San Sebastián were shut for some unknown reason, necessitating many detours for the drivers of the rental cars as they attempted to pick up the rest of the party.

In any event, we were eventually all retrieved, and started the drive to Plentzia. On the way, we stopped at Gatevia, a nice beach town that houses the Balenciaga museum. We watched whole fish being grilled on large, flat, wood burning grills – an old seafaring tradition from when fish was grilled aboard the boats.

Ultimately, we made it to Plentzia where we had to decode Google maps to try to find what appeared to be a very unusual address. I was in the car with N and A – we somehow found ourselves making a hairpin turn down a steep narrow lane where the car got stuck on the high curb as we turned. Undaunted, we continued down the lane only to end up in someone’s front yard, where the very nice owner told us to calm down (“Tranquillo!”) and assured us his directions would take us to the correct location.

The AirBnb was of quirky “farmhouse shabby chic” design and would have been great but for the lack of screens and abundance of mosquitoes. If anyone would like to join me in starting a screen company for Spain, please let me know. I think we’d make a killing.

A nice walk down to the beach at night.

The next day, based on an inaccurate reading of weather reports, we decided should be the hiking and mountain day. We started, however, with N and me making a trip to a very local fish market in a neighboring town. The Turkish (?) fishmonger apparently found us so interesting that he threw multiple free sardines and anchovies into our order.

I was really struck by how different the small towns in Spain were from England. Many of the residences are all apartment buildings, as opposed to semi-detached or detached dwellings, even in the remote areas. I’m sure there’s some interesting social commentary there, but having walked 11 miles today in the Yorkshire Dales (we’re now on the walking portion of this trip) I’m not sure what it is right now!

We finally got on the road in the Citroen and Toyota for what turned out to be quite a long drive into the mountains, and the weather definitely turned for the worse. But it was just a drizzling misting rain. After a series of hairpin turns we reached the Urkiola Preserve, a location chosen by A, who knew her parents wouldn’t be happy unless they’d experienced some of the Basque Country mounting.

The park office was just closing as it was almost 2 p.m. and time for siesta. The park official nonetheless left it open to give us a map and explain where to walk. Given the weather, we opted for the shorter version of the hike. This was a beautiful walk through pollarded beech trees – meaning large limbs cut for ash leaving a somewhat peculiar three pronged shape.

There are three or four “hermitages” on the way up to the church at the top of the mountain, although they seemed more like pilgrimage spots rather than a place a hermit lived. The church was originally built in the 8th/9th century, but has had many incarnations – a main one was in the 1970s by a group of monks. The church has beautiful stained glass windows, themed around vibrantly colored organic flowers and was never fully finished.

From the church we walked to a panoramic overlook, with a spectacular view framed by three large crosses. A number of what might have been tombstones dotted the landscape.

This was an interesting mix of Christian and pagan. Mari, the Lady of a boat, is supposed to live in a cave, looking after Urquiola. She can shape shift from animal to plant to woman.

At the top of the mountain is a nice cafe where we re-joined the 21st century with a drink.

Drove the hour plus back into Plentzia, where we proceeded to create our own version of a Basque fish feast. The most marvelous thing was that we knew we still had several days ahead of us.

Off of the Saddle – Return from Mt. Baker

mhoustonfl2 Comments

After our excessively long summit day, I slept soundly, which is not as easy as it sounds when you are overtired and sleeping on a slab of ice in a sleeping bag on an ancient thermarest pad. I’m not exaggerating- when we took the tents down we discovered that’s exactly what we were all camping on. See photo!

After more oatmeal – which I was definitely getting tired of – we reverse hiked our way back to the van, starting with the Railroad Grade. This time, instead of wearing my mountaineering boots I chose to wear my brand new Merrill’s, breaking one of the cardinal rules of hiking – don’t go a long trek in brand new boots. The downward slog caused multiple top of toe blisters and no less than five toenails paid the ultimate price.

But I digress. The real marvel of the Railroad grade, which, you will recall, is a slim reed of a trail with precipices on either side, was my mountaineering boot miracle. T had tied them to the sides of my pack, where they inelegantly protruded out in an apparently not very secured way. At the steepest and narrowest part of the trail, I could feel one fall off. I wisely thought, well that’s it, there’s no way I’m going after it – only to have said boot drop right at my feet with nary a roll to the side. With luck like that I really thought I should buy a lottery ticket.

The other odd part of our hike out was that at one point J, who was still not feeling well, managed to pull ahead of me. It had to do with a river crossing that I took my time at….while another group was well behind. For what I’m sure was a brief few minutes, although it felt longer, the trail started to look terribly unfamiliar. I called out to John to no avail, and started to convince myself I must have taken a wrong turn – not that I even recalled seeing any paths veering off. Finally, some other hikers walked by and assured me I was indeed on the way to the parking lot. I was relatively sure that there could only be one such parking lot on Mt. Baker, so that calmed my frazzled nerves.

We finally all made it back to the parking lot, in a state of bedragglement. After all, we’d been wearing the same clothes for four days, some of us had been ill, and we were all footsore. We were too late for our planned celebratory lunch, so we stopped at a Food Coop in Mount Vernon, where we had a very elegant little picnic sitting on a wall in the store parking lot under the overpass.

After surviving Seattle’s quite notable traffic we made it back to the Mountain Madness office where our little band of adventurers broke up and went our respective ways. We’d all bonded on the trip – one of the great things about mountaineering is the relationships you can form with a good group of people. And another is the relationship you form with the mountain. You don’t climb it – it lets you do so.

I had been apprehensive about putting my crampons back on. But this trip confirmed that thrill is still there. Now we just have to pick our next adventure.

Sliding Down the Saddle – Descent of Mount Baker – Part 3

mhoustonflLeave a comment
Just a little the worse for wear

My goal of cranking out our entire Mount Baker trip in a few weeks has been waylaid by work, as so many things tend to be. But fear not; we haven’t been stuck on the summit forever – we did in fact make a not very elegant but nonetheless effective descent.

One thing I inadvertently omitted from the account of our trip up to the summit was the eerie, almost tropical breeze that accompanied us at the beginning of our summit night. It was a harbinger because heat was the theme of the way down.

Of course, the first challenge of the descent was to reverse our way down the Roman Wall. As the smallest of our team of four, I was assigned the front of the rope, which meant I had the responsibility for picking out the footsteps we would follow on the way down. I had last led a rope line on Mt Elbrus and I was terrified as guide S short roped us (so he could control the rope better) and I cast a look down at the truly steep slope before me. He’d done the same short rope up the Roman Wall as well, which gives you some inkling of its incline.

It was much harder to get into a steady pace on the switchbacks on the way down, as we had very varying speeds on descent. To my surprise, the really vertical part was actually easier than the switchbacks – it required a boot plunge into already carved steps that you slid into – some almost 18 to 24 inches – but they felt fairly secure. The only problem was that so many other ice axes had already traveled that way when you dug your axe in you were just as likely to hit an existing hole and get absolutely no purchase.

I’d forgotten how much I liked leading a rope. The Roman Wall demanded absolute concentration and my legs felt shaky at times – nerves – but that complete absorption in the moment is one of the things I love best about mountain climbing (and glaciers, in particular). As our guide said – every step had to be purposeful. I’m afraid there are no photos of this. My hands were otherwise occupied.

Not quite sure about this angle but this is what it felt like

We made it down the Roman Wall in decent time and then reversed positions and I was now at the end of a long rope. Our guide, SH, was concerned about speed because temperatures were climbing and water was getting low also. Apparently my Florida heat training helped because I got down with water to spare.

But this is where the different trekking speeds really slowed us down. If I went too fast the rope would pool around J’s legs and he’d trip so I had to keep stopping and we never got a good downward rhythm going. It took almost five hours to get down (recall it had taken about eight to ascend), and it was an enormous relief once we could unrope and slip and slide down the last little bit.

Crevasses presented a few adventures on the way down also. The glacier is always moving and the cracks in the snow were no longer where they were or the same width. In fact, although I didn’t see it, T reports to me that M had a “crevasse crash.” The snow at the edge of one deep crevasse had gotten slushier, and you needed to dig in your crampons before hopping across it to get traction. As M approached, she couldn’t get a good foothold, and, worried about breaking her leg if one foot slipped in, chose to dive headfirst across the crevasse with full momentum. According to T, she quickly uprighted herself, sat up, and started laughing.

Back in camp everyone was exhausted. Poor J was still enduring whatever stomach issue was plaguing him, and M was also having to cope with feeling unwell. We had a latish dinner of spaghetti and needless to say, all were asleep at an extremely early hour.

Next up – the hike out, the miracle of my mountaineering boot drop, and had I actually gotten myself lost somewhere on the trail system of Mount Baker.

Back in the Saddle – Mount Baker Part One

mhoustonfl1 Comment

It was the afternoon before the trek/climb. After visits with family and friends – and an absolutely gigantic lunch in Gig Harbor (perhaps I am taking the idea of carbo loading too far) – we got an Uber and headed off to the Georgetown Inn in the Georgetown area of South Seattle. Known for being “gritty,” there are a lot of breweries and some interesting restaurants, but it is a long way from gentrification. The hotel had been recommended by our guiding company, but the desk clerk still seemed surprised to see our two very large backpacks walk into the lobby.

We located an Italian restaurant called Mezzanotte in what looked like a deconstructed building. Three levels of crumbling brick walls, ceiling tin covering some of them, and lots of people sitting outside. We were just as happy to sit inside and enjoy our fancy pasta – mine with king oyster mushroom Raghu and J’s with a very peppery sauce. We walked briefly around the neighborhood and back to our perfectly acceptable hotel – if a little noisy due to some bizarre mechanical noises that clicked and clacked throughout the night.

We woke up at 5:30 and met S, our friend from Alaska who was part of our Elbrus and Stok Kangri expeditions, in the lobby. We all ubered off to the Mountain Madness office, accompanied by three very large packs. The MM office is in a small house and there seemed to be at least three trips all packing up in various areas outdoors. Fortunately we found our correct group (I suppose otherwise we might have inadvertently gone ice climbing or something).

We met our fellow climbers – T, who is S’s friend and a pilot, two women from Canada (about my age or a bit older), and our guides, SH and H. Having nicely packed our packs, we now had to completely unpack, and lay everything out on the ground so our guides could confirm we had what we needed and left behind what we didn’t need. Apparently all of us had panicked when we got the packing video only two days before, which had led to multiple unexpected last minute purchases such as glacier glasses and sun hoodies! Two items, by the way, that I was very glad to have.

Everyone ended up leaving behind at least some items. I ditched my rain pants and second pair of pants. We reloaded our packs (my guess is mine was about 32-33 pounds), and met our porters, C, a Montana State student who was really serious about the mountains , and Z, a mid 20s exmilitary guy who was really serious about his sugar addiction. Z became best known on the trip for his hiking kilt – all he needed was a sporran!

After our packing and repacking extravaganza, we all loaded into the van, packs atop and in the back. We were enjoying trading travel stories with S, when just outside of Seattle he received a call to let him know there was a family medical emergency. S understandably felt he had to return to Alaska and pick up his wife so they could go where they were needed, so he ended up taking an Uber back to the airport. What a disappointment – this had been one of his bucket list trips. His friend T was a super good sport about it, and things were greatly eased by the fact that we really did have a congenial group.

We started off yet again, making a few bathroom and snack breaks. Z proceeded to sample every variety of junk food known to man (or at least available in Washington State), and I even found myself buying a large chocolate bar. Maybe it’s contagious.

Finally we turned off onto a series of dirt roads, gaining altitude over some teeth shattering potholes that sent the whole van rattling. We entered the Mt. Baker National Recreation Area, and traveled along more dirt roads, ultimately meeting up with all the vans and cars of other Mt. Baker adventurers. Vehicles were parked way down the road, but we were totally lucky and someone vacated a spot right by the trailhead. One final bathroom break in our last real bathroom and we were off!

Our merry band

The trail starts off as an easy walk, even with a crushed gravel trail in some spots, but rapidly starts a somewhat unrelenting slope up. There are a fair number of dried out rocky river beds to navigate, tree roots to clamber over, and stone steps to climb. You first hike alongside the towering dark evergreens that stalk the trail; after some elevation gain the trees give way to shorter growth and meadows spotted with pink, purple, and white bell shaped flowers. I would have loved to use my plant identification app but there was no cell service and we weren’t stopping much anyway.

After a while, we reached the portion of the trail known as “Railroad Grade.” It’s a very skinny, straight ridge line that leads to Sandy Camp, which was to be our home for the next three nights. It is on an incline, although not particularly steep, but there is a lot of exposure. One side is a sheer drop down of rock and gravel caused by the receding Easton Glacier; the other side is a slightly less sheer drop into a wild flower covered meadow. I would definitely have preferred to fall meadow side, but neither option was very appealing. At times the path was barely a foot wide and you had to navigate over rock. At some point it must have been wider, making the trail look like a railroad track – hence the name, I presume.

Once we finished the Railroad Grade it was a short jaunt to camp (although maybe jaunt isn’t the right word when you’re lugging heavy packs). Sandy Camp is a small bowl quite close to the edge of the glacier and partly on and off snow banks. It’s somewhat sheltered from the wind – although wind was almost nonexistent while we were there anyway.

SH and H set up tents and we helped shovel snow to flatten out the foundation. As the temperature warmed and snow melted we ultimately found ourselves camping on quasi-islands. SH had to move his entire tent the next day because it turned out he was on a pond! C and Z, in the meantime, had to hike back to the lot to pick up their personal gear for the mountain and return again that same night. What a long day! Altitude gain was about 2300 feet.

After we settled in, we had a dinner of Mac’n cheese and smoked salmon and hiked up to a nearby bluff to see a spectacular sunset. On one side are the majestic mountains of the Cascades, on the other, the glassy ocean with Vancouver Island in the background. The setting sun backlit the clouds and snow capped mountains turning everything a soft apricot. It was a good omen for the next day and our upcoming summit attempt.

Upcoming – Mt Baker Awaits

mhoustonfl2 Comments

This is going to be short. And no photos. I’m afraid I’ve given FromSwampToSummit short shrift recently. A and N’s wedding presented its own summit; followed by adventures in Vermont (think that old Bob Newhart show), and on mountains and around race tracks in Saratoga Springs. So much content to come!

But in the meantime – we leave for Mt Baker next Wednesday. The hike in starts Friday; Saturday is skill training (which we need since it’s been 4 years since we donned our crampons), and we should leave about 2 or 3 am Sunday morning for the summit. Hike out on Monday.

At 10,880 feet Baker is the third higheat mountain in Washington State and extremely glaciated. While it is way lower than many mountains we’ve climbed it’s the most elevation gain in one day – 4500 feet.

So, now the typical pre mountain jitters are surrounding me. Did I train enough? Will I be able to get my crampons on? (Pointy side down as my brother says.) What if there’s a crevasse and I can’t get across it? What about some of the creeks to ford on day 1? What if I’m so slow on day 1 they say I can’t go up the summit? And, God forbid, what if I step on the rope as we are going up the summit? (Those of you have climbed understand the shame that brings.)

Anyway, I’ve done this enough to know that fear is a healthy thing – as long as it doesn’t become overwhelming. So here’s to staying in the present, one step at a time, and a good balance of being a tortoise most of the time and a hare when necessary.

And I promise more to come – and photos.

Never Say Never – Mt. Baker

mhoustonfl3 Comments

S looked at me bemusedly. “Really? You swore you were never again going multi day backpacking where you carry your own stuff after the slog up Long’s Peak.” His words resonated as I found myself buying my fifth or so back pack – this time a 70 liter one. It towers over me.

All it took was a late afternoon chat with SB, of Elbrus and Stok Kangri fame. Steps on the Summit The Trek to Base Camp, Stok Kangri, Ladakh, India As we commiserated about our lack of adventure and travel over the pandemic, SB noted that Mt Baker in the northern cascades had always been on his bucket list. A few internet searches later we were all signed up for a Mountain Madness four day trip up Mt Baker’s Easton Glacier route in August.

In deference to our advancing age we are taking the slow route (relaxed, they call it, I guess like a fit of pants) and there are others who haul up the tents, cooking equipment etc. You “only” have to carry 30 or 35 pounds, but it’s too much bulk for my 53 liter pack.

So, it’s back to training for us. I did stairs twice last week and am forcing myself to run when I can stand it. J’s various Achilles issues seem to have resolved and he’s back to basketball.

But we are really hoping to get more outdoor hiking in….and yesterday was a good start with a beautiful walk in the Lake Proctor wilderness near Geneva, Florida with S and M. It’s a generally shady trail with Florida scrub on one side and views of a small lake on the other. The weather was spectacular- blue skies and in the 70s and we took our time and relished just being outdoors. There was even enough standing water to wade through and around to make S happy. Should all training hikes be so pleasant!

Our Mt Elbrus guide described Baker as a mini Elbrus so I guess it’s appropriate we are doing it with SB. Hopefully I’ve learned some things over the last 9 years and this time will make sure I have sun screen lip balm, not chapstick in my pocket.

Yes, that’s zinc sunscreen but none on my lips.