Loowit

The early morning start, the alpine start, is one of my favorite things about being in the mountains. It was just after 4am when we started down the trail, walking through the forest in the dark, the spot light of our headlamps illuminating the icy-spring-snow covered path. As we made our way through the forest, the moon, waning after achieving its full orb two days before, sent light filtering through the forest’s trees, just as sunlight would in the daytime.

We were alone for the first few miles of the trail, but as we broke out of the trees a conga line of headlamps belonging to those farther up the mountain was revealed. I should have been thinking about how much mountain lay before us, made obvious by how far away these tiny head lamps looked to be. Instead, I thought how the distant headlamps looked as if stars had fallen out of the sky and onto the mountain, a constellations of tiny climbers.

I had hoped we would leave the forest and gain enough elevation to see this morning’s sunrise unfold in full: the dark of night’s sky turning to a soft milky blue contrasted against stark white snow, then a banner of pink and orange spreading across the horizon, and then the first glimmer of golden sunlight reaching out to touch the mountain top. And that was exactly what we saw.

We were at the half way point when the sky unfolded into day, approximately half way since neither of us had any interest in keeping tabs on the measurements: distance, vertical gain, even time. Sunrise and the view were the only measurement we needed, we would arrive at the summit when we arrived at the summit, that’s the way I like to travel in the mountains.

mt. hood in the far distance

the first glimmer of sunlight to touch the mountain far above us

sunrise over mt. adams

This climb was my dad and I’s first Washington volcano, since both of us relocated to the state last year. Loowit is also known as Mt. St. Helens and famously erupted in 1980. However, to pay homage to the native people of these lands and to stand in solidarity with the native people who continue to live on these lands, I will try my best to refer to the mountains now local to me with their indigenous names.

This was also the first time I brought my new love, my Canon AE-1 Program, with me on an adventure. I’ve had this camera for years, gifted to me by a sweet college friend, but only recently began to use it. Not only have I been using it but preferring it. Film has moved and inspired me in a way digital photography has never. Because this climb was a day trip I had plenty of room in my pack to accommodate both my analog and digital cameras, and many rolls of film. From this point on the photographs included are a combination of analog and digital, and the distinction is quite obvious I think.

Tahoma / Mt. Rainier & Spirit Lake

analog vs. digital

By the time we reached the summit it was clear that spring had most definitely sprung. Despite the beautiful carpet of snow it was very warm now that the sun was climbing steadily into the sky.

Dad and I sat for a while enjoying the view and the end of the incline, celebrating with sourdough from my neighborhood bakery and a tin of mackerel in garlic and olive oil (I tried the Patagonia Provisions tinned fish because it was on sale, the garlic mackerel was really satisfying).

analog vs. digital

Before beginning our descent, I reapplied sunscreen frantically and secured my buff around the back of my neck and cheeks. I feared the sun’s reflection from above and below, rebounding powerfully off the snow. At first we decided to try to glissade down, to save our tired legs and hard working knees, but neither of us could gain enough momentum. I had also overheard a glissading accident in the early morning. I had been watching my feet, meditating on the rhythm of one foot in front of the other, when I glanced up to check where I was going and saw two people sliding down the mountain. They were moving quickly and hollering with joy. A little while later on a plateaued section of the mountain I saw the two women huddled together one woman was cradling the others left hand, they looked to be in conference about something serious. As a lone man walked by them, I overheard one call to him asking for a first aid kit. The woman with the outstretched hand explained further, “I think I’ve broken a few of my fingers.”

With this in mind, I was happy to slog down the mountain on my feet, even if the snow was softening quickly making each step unsteady. Farther down the mountain Dad managed some solid glissading runs, but even then, the descent was long and very warm. We ran out of water two miles from the car and the combination of heat and thirst is a weakness of mine, making me a little grumpy as we reentered the forest for the final two miles of trail. But once back at the car and reunited with the two liters of water waiting for us there, my mood shifted from tried to dread. I didn’t want to leave, retuning to “civilization” is hard after any length of time in the mountains.

the end.