Mount Dickerman — Friday, Aug. 8, 2025

We had considered Vesper Peak but decided on Mount Dickerman instead, our initial plan B hike. It turned out to be a great decision as the summit views were nothing short of jaw-dropping. We sat mesmerized, held as if by an invisible force that urged us to stay. Absolutely sensational!

We arrived at the trailhead around 8:00 a.m., becoming the fourth car in the lot. The morning was cool, and the woodland trail was moist from the previous day’s rains, a noticeable respite from the usual dust of so many others. The ascent began immediately and soon started what presents as a never-ending continuum of switchbacks. Yet, it was not boring. The early sections alternated between soft dirt with forest duff and rocky, tree-rooted sections, verdant with luxurious moss and elegant ferns. Fractured trees occasionally appeared nearby. The place exhibited a notably primeval character. I halfway expected to encounter some prehistoric creature lurking nearby.

Water sources were scant dribbles in the early section and none later. A couple of deadfalls had to be shinnied over, and after that, the trail was unencumbered, if you do not count the usual steps up and over rocks and roots. The trail was often narrow and sometimes eroded and sluffing off. Other times, snaking through sections overgrown with brushy wet plants. Everything was shaded, dark, and damp in the early morning as we yearned for the light yet to come.

After about two and a half miles, we began the breakout and got our first views of Big Four and Vesper. Higher up, we encountered a series of wood cribbed steps filled in with shards of granite rock. A significant amount of trail work had been done. I wondered how they had accomplished it. We soon ascended through fields profuse with wildflowers and ever-expanding views of nearly peaks. And then we were suddenly back snaking through brushy areas with muddy, rocky, root-filled sections. The trail was never predictable, always changing character, and always heading relentlessly up.

After emerging from a small wooded section, I found myself looking up at a hiker sitting on a mound of granite. A bit surprised, I asked, “Is this it?” He answered, “Yes.” My hiking partner and I then settled in with sandwiches as the clouds slowly lifted from the distant summits. The day was warm, with scant breeze, and few bugs. Countless peaks pierced the skyline before us: Baker, Glacier Peak, Sloan, Vesper, Sperry, Mount Pugh, Three Fingers, Big Four, and many others.

We found the summit views unexpectedly expansive and brilliant. The summit drop, the plunge down the north side, created significant visual drama that accentuated the already spectacular views. We agreed they easily rivaled those from Yellow Aster Butte, which we had recently visited. The summit was roomy and soon hosted about fifteen of us as others arrived. We all wandered to the second summit and back and then procrastinated, finding little reason to depart. The place exhibited a magnetic personality, quiet yet powerfully, mystically compelling. And so, we stayed, longer than on any recent summit, and soaked up the panorama, the exquisite banquet, arrayed before us. And in those moments, I felt that I had merged with the infinite.