Hit the trailhead at 6:00 and got to the first of the open talus fields at about 8:00. It was wintery up there. The thin blanket of snow that graced the lower slopes last week is gone, but there was about two or three inches of fresh snow on an old crust at the bottom of the first talus field. I climbed a little further, gaining no more than 100 feet, and the wind-deposits of snow increased to about mid-calf. Thinking that there are better ways to spend a Saturday morning playing chicken with avalanche conditions I turned around. This is a pretty good conditioning hike. Passed about six other people on the way down. It must have been a tough week in the mountains, as there were a few more logs across the trail than on the last hike.

I recently saw a web site with reviews of the ""55 Hikes In Snoqualmie Pass"" guide book. One reviewer belittles the book (and it's editors) for driving directions that he regarded as inadequate. I thought that the reviewer sounded a little crabby. I should apologize. The directions to Mailbox Peak in that book are not wrong, but it is not clear where the driving directions end and where the hiking directions begin. (Note for novice speakers of Guidebookese; the driving instructions end when the first altitude is given.) For Mailbox peak, park just past the point where the paving ends, near a gated road, and then hike up that road. Also, the book suggests that the point at which the trail departs from the road used to be a little hard to find. No longer, there is now an obvious tread where the trail leaves the road. However, I did not find any signs saying either ""4841"" or ""Mailbox"", nor could I find the toothbrush of local lore. The trail leaves the road just before the road traverses the height of a rib coming down the mountain. As the book says, there is a stream just beyond the trail. Oddly, this trail is situated right on the height of the rib. As others have mentioned, this trail gets steep quickly and stays that way almost all the way to the top. A little snow was encountered at about 2300 feet, but it never accumulated to much more than a cm or two. With warm days like today it should be gone soon. It just made today's footing rather tricky. I was happy to have my trekking poles with me. At about 4100 feet, where the trees give way to boulder fields and the winter snows accumulate, there was still quite a bit of snow. The old snow was practically bullet proof and the shallow layer of relatively fresh snow made it slippery. An ice ax might be welcome if you climb this hill early in the morning. I imagine that it becames easier to maintain footing after the sun warms it. However, evidence from the snow suggests that you have to watch for postholing into huge gaps between the rocks when the snow gets soft. Watch for the large cornice at the top - I did not see any large overhangs but that is no guarantee! The top of the mailbox, and what looked like the top of a fire hydrant, were visible above the snow. There are Dr. Suess books aplenty in the mailbox, but they are a trifle wet. Great views to Glacier, Baker, Rainier, and out to the Olympics. It was hazy, though, in spite of a very stiff breeze at the top. I passed about seven other folks on the way down, and saw several more heading up the road from the parking lot at about 1:00 pm. My watch mutinied and fled from my wrist sometime on descent (bummer), so I'm not exactly sure of the time. The trail is in surprising good shape, with only a few logs over the trail.

This narrative is not another account of an epic ascent of Mailbox Peak. You know, the trip descriptions where the hikers claimed they climbed the mountain in 37 minutes, carrying a backpack full of bricks up the full 4000 feet in blowing sleet, all to better to train for their upcoming ascent of Mount Everest. No, this story is about the gentler side of Mailbox Peak. ""Gentler side?"", you may ask. Yes, there is a gentle side, but you have to look for it. You have to put your mind into a different place and forget all that you've heard about Mailbox. Let the aerobic jocks punish their bodies to the limit. You are going to approach this mountain differently. Just relax, let go....ahhhh! Now, aren't you feeling better already? When you step out of the car at the trailhead, listen for the sound of silence. The noise of I-90 is blocked by Grouse Ridge. It's a sunny day early in March and the air has a touch of warmth. Birds are singing , and new plant life is beginning to appear The logging road that forms the first part of the hike rises gently through the forest. There's views out north to snow-capped Mount Teneriffe and Green Mountain. One spot near the road has been logged, but it's a tasteful ""new forestry"" job, where they've left many of the trees....the clearcut doesn't break the mood at all. If this walk does not put you into a Zen-like state, nothing will. Soon you reach the unmarked start of the trail. As if to lull you further into complacency, the first part of the trail rises gently through the woods. Soon you arrive at a pretty brook flowing beside the trail. Take a long break here at this relaxing spot. Perhaps you should consider stopping your hike at this point. The journey here, although less than a mile, is a rich and fulfilling experience to those whose minds are open. But if you want more, continue along the trail, which leaves the brook, dips into another little valley, then reaches ""The Spot"". You know the one. The Spot where the aerobic fitness junkies get an evil look in their eyes, stuff Power Bars in their mouths, take a swig of thier favorite performance beverage, and start power-breathing...The Spot where the trail suddenly takes off up the slope at about a 60 degree angle, and never stops climbing until the summit of Mailbox, 3500 feet above. But you know better than them. Climb up the steep part trail about 100 feet, passing a large log oddly studded with nailed-on pegs. At a switchback, leave the steep, muddy rut comprising the normal Mailbox Peak trail, and step onto a barely visible trail traversing the slope ahead. The trail is so faint at first, it looks like a game trail...or just a mirage of the fevered hiker's imagination. But it's not your imagination. The trail, though faint, is definitely constructed, its tread lightly grubbed out of the hillside. Ribbons mark its route. The path climbs at a brisk but reasonable pace that allows one to remain at peace with the world. You are cruising up the gentle side of Mailbox; life is good. At about 1800' feet elev, a side trail branches off left and uphill, strangely marked with crime scene tape. This side trail is more obvious than the main trail, which is easy to miss. If you make the mistake of following it, the ""Crime Scene Traverse"" trail soon fades to nothing. The ribbons lead you through a trackless sallal-covered slope, then unceremoniously dump you on the old trail...not good for your mental equilibrium. So avoid the Crime Scene Traverse. Beyond ""Crime Scene Junction"", the proper trail soon reaches a junction with another trail dropping down to the fire training center. There's an actual sign marking this spot. Continue climbing on this little used track, which after a few switchback, joins the ""main"" Mailbox trail at about 2300' at an unmarked junction. Pat yourself on the back: you completely bypassed the lower portion of the normal Mailbox trail, which is perhaps the worst part. Cross over the main Mailbox path, and follow a faint trail branching off the north side, apparently the continuation of the ""alternative"" trail you came up on. After a short climbing traverse, you soon cross over the broad summit of the west ridge, and reach an unmarked junction with yet another vague trail coming up from the north side of the ridge. This may be the rumored third route up Mailbox, one that uses a old logging road...I did not check it out. Above this junction, the alternative trail gradually deteriorates in quality and gets steeper as it zigs and zags up the ridgeline. There are no views anywhere in the thick forest even this high up. Any enlightenment must be found within yourself on this trail. Upon reaching the 3200' level, I found the time to be getting quite late, and the steepness of the trail was draining my stores of tranquility. Time to turn around. The rumor is that the alternative trail (if I was indeed on it) rejoins the old trail for good at 3800', about where you start breaking out of the trees. Next time, I'll allow more time and check it out. So is it possible to climb Mailbox and maintain your sanity? I can't answer that question. That is up to you. Notes on the ""normal"" Mailbox Trail: It's relatively dry and certainly free of snow to 3200'. The trail is still cruelly steep, but it's not as bad as I remembered from my first trip up it some years ago. It looks like a few switchbacks have been added.

Decided I was tired of Tiger so I headed up to Mailbox to see far I could get considering snow and my time constraints. The trail through the forest was same as always: steep as hell with the last portion being rooty and somewhat hard to follow (not due to snow; it's always that way). There were maybe three blowdown that I can actually remember but none impeded progress. Snow starts on the trail just before you exit the forest. This is where I turned around due to time limitations but I talked to a couple of guys who had just gone to the top and they said it wasn't too bad. It does seem like that trail would be pretty easy to follow up until the brush and the light trees are left behind. Beyond that, the summit is obvious. The only problem would be the talus field if you wanted to go that way.

We encountered light snow on ground from about 3200 feet. There is very little snow all the way to the summit - only a few inches except for drifts. No snowshoes are required and gaiters probably aren't required either. There was one blow-down tree only about 1/4 mile from the trailhead. The weather was good - only a few snow flakes and no wind. Companions: Bruce, Bette, and Amy.