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I've always been an unreasonably big fan of Glacier Peak but didn't seriously consider climbing it until recently. After many trips up Adams and St. Helens and one up Hood, I was ready to move onto something a little more technical but not quite as big as Rainier, and GP actually fit the bill nicely. The cloudy and rainy start to Summer 2016 delayed our plans, but my trusty hiking buddy/climbing instructor/wilderness superman Eric and I finally cobbled together this climb on very short notice and it exceeded all my expectations. Although the approach hike is formidable, it passes through some of the most beautiful territory in the Cascades (if not the world), so I was savoring as well as sweating every mile.
We left Bellevue on Thursday afternoon and after a tasty but perhaps too-long detour for Mexican food in Granite Falls, we hit the trailhead around 7:30 pm. We decided to get a jump on the long approach by trying to make the Mackinaw Shelter on our first night, which would put us almost a day ahead of schedule. The North Fork Sauk River trail is in great condition and the ~6 mile hike to Mackinaw passed quickly in a little over two hours, using headlamps for the last mile from the Red Creek Bridge. The area was surprisingly busy for a Thursday and we had to scrounge a bit for a tent site but quickly settled in. There were some mosquitoes around and I could feel no-see-ums on my legs, but they didn't seem too bad. Little did I know: the next evening, I discovered that my legs were absolutely covered in itchy, scabby welts that would take over a week to fade out - much worse than normal mosquito bites. I've never had anything like those bites on many other camps, hikes, and backpacks. Hopefully the no-see-ums will be gone soon, but DEET didn't seem to deter them, so wear long pants and sleeves in the woods or prepare to be eaten alive!
The next morning, we tackled the grueling climb up to White Pass. The first several switchbacks are especially steep, so bring lots of water and start early. We left the no-see-ums and mosquitoes behind in the woods but traded them for swarms of persistent black flies and some horseflies. The flies didn't seem to bite much, but they mobbed me whenever we stopped. There were some nice blueberries and huckleberries along the trail, but it was too buggy to spend much time grazing. Luckily, the flies thinned out by the time we reached White Pass, although there were still some around. We missed the peak of the wildflowers, but bear grass, Sitka valerian, pink mountain heather, and lupine were still blooming in places, and views once you break out of the woods are incredible. Sloan Peak, the impressive wall of the Monte Cristo group, Chimney Rock, Hinman, Daniel, and Stuart all make an appearance to the west and south. Also look out for groups of delicate little blue butterflies around creek crossings. I've seen them several times on this stretch of trail but haven't noticed them elsewhere.
White Pass was fairly busy with PCT thru-hikers and climber groups heading up to Glacier Peak, so we pressed on to the Foam Creek Trail. It rolls up and down, occasionally steeply, while traversing the ridge, but there's plenty of water and a few small camping spots. Views of Indian Head Peak and its resident glacier across the White River valley are increasingly spectacular. About 1.5 miles from White Pass, climbers should turn left where the Foam Creek Trail ends, heading up a small stream valley to a little knoll below the main ridge. You get your first view of Glacier Peak here, and you'll want to pause for water and snacks before continuing. From here, make a short but steep drop onto the headwall of the Foam Creek drainage, briefly follow the contour of the ridge, and finally ascend to the obvious low point on the ridge via some very aggressive switchbacks that will test your mettle. (NB - some route descriptions cross the ridge earlier, closer to White Pass, but this puts you above some very steep slopes on the backside, so I would stick to the main route.) The climb is brutally steep but relatively short, and the view of Glacier Peak and the upper White Chuck valley once you gain the ridge is magical. To the left, the PCT snakes down from Red Pass past the White Chuck Cinder Cone and out of view, while directly below, a beautifully clear little lake collects water from the White Chuck Basin to the right. You could spend days exploring this valley and its meadows, but climbers have more work to do.
The descent from the ridge was relatively gentle and clearly marked, crossing several snowfields with substantial moats around large boulders, so watch carefully for thinning snow bridges. Soon the route begins ascending again toward the White Chuck Basin, where you enter the stark moonscape left by the rapid retreat of the White Chuck Glacier over the past century. Most climbing itineraries have you camp here, and it's certainly an impressive place, but we still had the time and energy to press on toward Glacier Gap and were glad we did. The basin is large and the trail braids out into a number of different cairn-marked paths, so it's easy to get off-course without realizing it, although all routes generally lead in the same direction. The main trail, such as it is, crosses the very snout of the glacier itself, which is obviously icy and demands careful footing despite its gentle slope, before traversing a few borderline-unsafely-steep snowfields. We almost broke out our ice axes and crampons and probably should have, since the snow ran out into nasty boulder fields.
Next, you'll climb up to a hanging valley just below Glacier Gap, which requires getting up a steep ridge on the far side of the White Chuck Glacier. On the ascent, we found ourselves too low and off the main trail, so we made a very steep direct ascent up a small watercourse before hitting the route near the top. The trail climbs the ridge in a series of loose rocky switchbacks reminiscent of Aasgard Pass, although much shorter. There are some campsites around a small lake in the hanging valley, but it was still mostly snow- and ice-bound when we passed through and would be a cold place to spend the night thanks to the large snowfield right above it. We continued a short distance to the saddle just below Glacier Gap, where there are several tent spots with dry-stone windbreaks and streams just downhill for pumping water. It was reliably windy here in the evenings until after sunset, but the incredible views more than made up for the breeze. Sloan Peak and the Monte Cristo group dominated the views to the west, and we could even see the silhouette of the Olympics more than a hundred miles away. To the east were the Suiattle Glacier, the Suiattle River valley, Buck Creek Pass (one of my favorite spots), and a host of giants on the horizon: Tenpeak Mountain, Seven Fingered Jack, Mount Fernow, Fortress Mountain, Chiwawa Mountain, and Bonanza Peak, among others.
In hindsight, we wouldn't have changed a thing about our itinerary. Lugging camping gear up from the White Chuck Basin was a slog, but the trade-off is a very long summit day if you camp down there. From our perch below Glacier Gap, we allowed ourselves a leisurely day: we didn't leave until after 8 am, climbed at a moderate pace, and were back down for dinner around 5 pm. This seems much more appealing than a 12+ hour climb, especially if you have to tackle the steep, rocky ridge in darkness on the way up and/or down. We also thought about continuing up to Glacier Gap and looking for a campsite on top or just beyond, but we were getting tired and decided to stop for the night. This was a great decision: there's no place to camp on the Gap itself, and while there are a few isolated tent sites not far down the trail, they're less obvious, you have to get down a steep snow slope on the north side of the Gap to reach them, and there aren't many alternatives if they happen to be occupied.
Summit day was just about perfect: blue skies with some high clouds to filter the sun, usually a refreshing breeze, warm without being too hot. From Glacier Gap, you descend a short but steep snowfield before climbing the volcano's south ridge. The route is surprisingly gentle, both on the rock ridge and once you transition to the snowfields below the Gerdine Glacier. We knew we had plenty of time and didn't push ourselves, so it was a supremely enjoyable climb. The views of the nearly unspoiled Glacier Peak Wilderness stretching out in all directions are indescribable and only get better the higher you go. Eventually the route transitions from snowfields onto the upper Gerdine Glacier, which is uncrevassed (although we did avoid a few linear depressions in the ice just in case) but exposed to rockfall from Disappointment Peak, Glacier Peak's prominent south summit. We helmeted up at that point and kept an eye out for incoming from above.
The grade continued to be gentle until we hit the crevasse zone at the margin of the Gerdine and Cool Glaciers. This is very brief, maybe a hundred feet wide, and the crevasses are generally narrow, but not roping up would be tempting fate. There was a clear bootpath through the crevasses, although someone had punched through a snow bridge over one small crack with an ice ax or trekking pole, so we jumped it just to be safe. Once onto the solid upper Cool Glacier, the grade steepened until we reached the pumice ridge above Disappointment Peak. We left our helmets and climbing gear there for the descent, keeping our ice axes and crampons accessible for the steep snow slope just below the summit. As on the upper flanks of Mt. St. Helens, the pumice ridge below Glacier Peak's summit block is steep, loose, and tends to slide underfoot, although the tight switchbacks further up the ridge trail were more solid than I expected.
The last push up to the summit is a steep snow slope, although not as steep as the routes above the Hogsback on Mt. Hood and never enough to worry me about footing. We were able to to climb a bouldery rock ridge for a good part of the way, transitioned onto the snow, and quickly found ourselves standing beside a very nice one-tent bivy shelter just below the gentle snow ridge marking the summit of Glacier Peak. The ridge probably represents part of an old crater rim, now eroded away on the west and east with lower remnants across a deep saddle to the north. It's not clear whether the west end (housing the summit register) or the east end is higher, but it's worth checking both out for the amazing views. To the west, we caught the distant glint of sunlight on Puget Sound and Lake Washington, with Mt. Pilchuck, Three Fingers, Whitehorse, Mt. Pugh, and many others standing out. Mt. Baker to the north was partly concealed by a line of cottonball clouds, but Shuksan and the legion of other peaks making up the wild North Cascades were on full display. I was surprised that we couldn't see any of Lake Chelan to the east, but it's surrounded by high mountains that block lines of sight. Adams and St. Helens were not visible and only the top of Rainier poked above the haze layer, but its superior height was unmistakable even from this distance. Hinman, Daniel, Stuart, and the Enchantment peaks punctuated the southern skyline.
The summit was unsurprisingly windy, and we headed down after about half an hour of soaking in the scenery. The descent was quick and straightforward, even coming down the steep snow chute on the summit block. Just below the crevasses on the Cool Glacier, we met a large group climbing on behalf of the Fred Hutch Cancer Research Center but otherwise saw only a few other small parties the whole day. All in all, I don't think I've ever had a more satisfying day in the great outdoors. The next morning, we debated whether to spend an extra day exploring the Suiattle Glacier or other points in the area but ultimately decided to pack up and head down. It took a full day of hiking and we were quite ready to be done by the time we rolled into the Sloan Creek Campground at 5 pm, but the day passed without incident and the bugs were much better on the descent. Chinese food in Lake Stevens was a great cap to the trip, even if they did forget our beer orders. According to my GPS log, we covered nearly 40 miles and 10,500 gross vertical feet (more than a Rainier climb) in under 70 hours. This trip had more variety than any I've done before, from the old-growth forest along the rushing Sauk River, to wildflower meadows near White Pass, to the harshly beautiful moonscape of the White Chuck Basin, to the alpine slopes of Glacier Peak's south ridge, and finally rock, glacier, and snow routes up to the summit itself. Combining that with the great satisfaction of conquering an elusive, mysterious volcano locked deep in wilderness, this may well be my favorite hike of all time. Rainier and Baker might be higher and better-known, but I have a hard time believing they can measure up.
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