Went looking for some snow today and got more than I really wanted. I made it to within about fifty yards of the summit before deciding that it just wasn't worth it. Both of the dogs celebrated when we turned around. Here is my story.
FS 9070 is washboard until about a mile before Windy Pass. It's washboard with snow after that, about 6 inches by the time you get to the PCT (if you get to the PCT, you've gone about 100 yards too far, turn around and look for a FS road on the left as you go back down).
The snow in the trees was melting fast, so fast it may as well have been a downpour as I mushed up the hill with my team. The first part of the trail gains elevation quickly and the dripping trees turned into heavy, looming threats from above. Then the wind kicked up.
Snow bombs rained down on us for the rest of the trip. We were fortunate to not get hit with the MOAB drops, but you could hear the big ones going off all around.
This is a short trail, gaining only about 1300 feet in a couple miles at most, but the difference in snow depth between top and bottom was dramatic. I had hoped that as we climbed, the snow would lighten up in texture a bit, but it remained a cold, lumpy mashed potato slog, 12", then 18". The dogs had to fall in line behind me as I plowed through the heavy frosting. 2 feet. 3 feet. It got to the point that the trench I was plowing was not adequate for the dogs. They just couldn't push out of snow that deep. I was so close to the summit, I picked them up, one under each arm, and carried them.
There is a clearing near the final summit hill, and I was wading at my upper thigh in the "drifts" of mash. The wind was blowing hard, the bombs were falling, I was soaked, the dogs were shivering, my arms were killing me and a cloud had settled over the summit. I was starting to have "little match girl" hallucinations when I had a moment of lucidity and decided that I no longer cared about that last 50 yards, I just wanted to get the h$%# out of there.
So that's my story. I already miss summer and fall.