Koma Kulshan
Since arriving in Washington State, I had admired Koma Kulshan, Mt.Baker, from across the Sound. My dad and I spoke often about doing a guided climb with the American Alpine Institute and at the end of April we snagged two spots on an early May expedition.
The weekend began at the AAI headquarters where we were introduced to our group and guides. Then we dumped everything out of our packs and did a thorough gear check. It took a few hours to get everyone reorganized and paired up with their rental gear. We rented sleeping bags and a tent, we had planned to share a two-person tent but ended up with two one-person tents. Between the bulky sleeping bag and the unexpected addition of a tent, my 55 liter pack was bursting at the seams and I made the rash, regretful decision to abandon my cameras.
Going up there without cameras was refreshing in someways, I wasn’t frantically trying to find and make good images. I looked out of my tent and enjoyed the view, instead of looking through a view finder. That said, it also means I have to go back next May with all my cameras to capture the magic of this mountain, especially on film. Until then, here are some photographs taken with my trusty iPhone 8.
We rendezvoused at the trailhead, or as close as we could get to it, there was still so much snow on the road we had to park a mile away. Often the hardest part of a hike is that first mile as you slowly warm up, shed layers and get used to the weight of your pack. After walking along the road, it was extra exciting to reach the old growth forest and get onto the trail.
I have no idea how many miles we hiked or the elevation of our camp, but we stopped at the edge of the glacier and it seemed to be where most people set up camp. There were three other groups with established camp sites and together we made up a neighborhood of tents and humans, looking ever so small on the side of this massive volcano.
As we built camp clouds moved in sending everyone into their tents early. It was only 7pm when I put on my red woolly socks, my beloved sleeping socks reserved for camping, and inched down into my sleeping bag to get comfortable. I laid there with my eyes closed hoping for a toasty night and that I would wake up early enough to watch the sunrise.
It was not a toasty night, instead I felt on the verge of both sleep and a comfortable temperature for hours. I wasn’t freezing but I wasn’t warm, and I wasn’t awake but I wasn’t asleep. So when I heard the swish-swish of mountaineer skis passing by just outside my tent and saw it was 5am, I was ready to get up.
No matter how eager you are you get out of your sleeping bag, it is a sad moment when the bag is unzipped and the precious warmth generated by your hard working body escapes. Like jumping into cold water, I didn’t linger or let myself overthink how cold it would be to change out of my wool layers. I had put my clothes inside my sleeping bag with me, but they were still cold. Instantly I was shivering as I fumbled into my first layers and rushed to secure my hat, down parka and boots.
I climbed out of my red Hilleberg tent as quietly as the nylon would allow, and found myself under a bright pink sky. I could see my dad’s tent was also unzipped. He was up and climbing out to watch the sunrise, the mountaineering skis had also woken him up. We were the only people up for the next 45 minutes, drinking coffee with an incredible view of the summit.
early morning selfie
We had a relaxed day on the mountain, running through some basic mountaineering skills: how to be energy efficient, how to self arrest, how to tie a few knots and so on.
The information in the course wasn’t new to me, with the exception of the knot tying, but it never hurts to review techniques. Most of all, I was very happy to have an extra day up there to enjoy the snow, the views, to watch different clouds and weather move around us.
By 4pm on our second day everyone was making dinner and by 5pm everyone was tucked into their tents, preparing for our early climb to the summit.
I was laying in my sleeping bag with my tent open watching the sky when I drifted off to sleep. A few hours later the drop in temperature woke me up. Sunset was just beginning to unfold and I was tempted to stay up for it but our summit bid launched at 2am and I thought better of staying up late.
I zipped up my tent and buried myself into my sleeping bag. I was much warmer than the first night and drifted off knowing it would be a good night’s sleep.
the sarac
At 2am we began making our way to the summit. I love this part of a climb, hiking in the dark when all you see are your feet taking one step in front of the other, walking becomes a meditation. The early morning is peaceful and it feels very special to be awake under the stars and then before you know it, the first banners of light are stretching across the horizon and the new day begins to unfold.
We were so lucky with the weather. Not only did clear skies gift us views of the colorful sunrise and of mountain tops all the way in Canada, but there was hardly a lick of wind, the snow we climbed up was firm, and the temperature was perfect. It was cold but not too cold, just enough of a bite to encourage you to keep walking.
the roman wall
We made it to the summit where our reward was an expansive view. We spent most of our time standing at 10,778 ft. identifying various land marks and all the big peaks of the Cascades. We swapped stories and discussed future mountain goals as plumes of smoke rose from the active caldera a few hundred feet below us.
I feel like I should be writing more about standing on the summit of a great mountain, but even in my limited experience I know that the summit is only the half way point. Ahead of us was a long descent, not simply back to camp but the entire hike out. Our day wouldn’t end until we got back to the car and even then, there was the drive out. I felt very grateful to be granted the opportunity to be with this mountain by the grace of Kulshan, by the perfect weather, by the generosity of my parents, and by the aid of our wonderful guides.
Once back at camp everyone got straight into breaking down camp and smashing everything back into our packs. Before long we were all trudging down the mountain side. Feeling tired, I decided I needed to chat with those around me, hoping that good conversation would make the next several hours fly by.
It was 6pm when we finally made it back to my car. I cut up some oranges, like a soccer-mom, from the bag of snacks I had stashed, and shared them with our guides. I changed into a fresh shirt and after 16 hours in boots I traded them in for my chacos. With our gear loaded up and our good-byes said, we headed down the mountain road and straight to a pizza place for some dinner. Three slices later, we made the rest of the drive back to Bellingham to meet up with two of my dad’s friends. Still in my ski bibs, our faces white with sunscreen and red with sunburn, my hair in a fuzzy three-day braid, you might think we looked out of place at the brewery, but not here in Washington.