Ruth Peak
6/4/2025
When romping about Mt. Baker zone, Ruth Peak is often hidden behind other mountains and ridgelines. I finally got a good look at the peak last summer while doing trail work above Hannegan Pass, and got inspired to give the broad, open face a ski when the season was right.
I deliberately pushed off the excursion until June this year in hopes of completing a Turns All Year challenge. Luckily, this seemed to be a perfect window to give it a go. I shoved off from Hannegan Pass trailhead at the end of FR 32 (an excellent dirt road) just before 8am. I walked with ease on a dry trail for nearly all three miles up to Hannegan camp just before the pass. Here was just about treeline, and I could see a solid snowpack up to the top of Ruth. I slapped on my skis and skins, and slid away from my cached hiking boots. Enlightened by a recent trip report, I opted to head around the backside (Northeast shoulder) of “Point 5930”-- a steep subpeak guarding the ridge up to Ruth. This circuitous route involved a straight-forward bootpack followed by a short but sketchy traverse across a steep, quickly warming slope.
With the ridge gained, the rest of the route was clear. The route had the vibe of a small volcano– I followed a ridge above a broad, mildly steepening snowfield punctuated with rocky crags. My legs ached quite a bit by the time I reached the final push. The summit flattened as I skinned and eventually all that remained was a short boot pack to the obvious high point. It was warm, sunny and windless. The peak is satisfyingly pointy, and provides excellent views of Shuksan, the northern pickets, and the Skagit range up to Canada. I had a similar view the summer before in August, but I am partial to the look of the zone covered in snow.
The fun began just after 11am when I skied 2000’ of perfectly fine corn (though I could tell it is transitioning to a mid-summer variety). Instead of following my uphill route back around the northeast shoulder of “Point 5930”, I dropped to the west of the hill and picked my way through steep, patchy snow nearly back to Hannegan camp and my boots. A small stroll across steep talus and then a short bootpack was required to get me all the way. In hindsight this was the best way to conduct the climb/ski. The uphill route was longer, but less steep and safer on foot. The steepness of the downhill was easily managed on skis, and I avoided the quickly warming, sketchy-feeling traverse encountered on the way up.
After reaching my hiking boots, I transitioned one more time and began the walk back to my car. Few creek crossings still had snowbridges, and those that remained were easily navigable. I enjoyed staring at the climbing potential across the valley (Lower NE side of Sefrit/Nooksack Ridge) as I plodded slightly downhill. I wrapped up the journey in five and a half hours, and enjoyed a celebratory day-old quesadilla in the tranquil parking lot. 12 miles, ~4,000’.
Goat and Winchester Peak
05/2025
A cluster of mountains just north of Mt Baker Highway has been my home court for summer alpine hikes since moving to Bellingham. Visible from the ski area, peaks including Goat, Tomyhoi and Larabee have also shown potential as ski objectives. Unlike touring from the ski area, however, executing these objectives involves finicky approaches through low elevation, steep, forested slopes. It is therefore easy to convince myself to pick the low hanging fruit of Bagley Basin rather than work harder for less skiing in the north Baker highway zone. Years have passed since I moved to this neck of the woods, however, and curiosity finally got the better of me, so I finally went to stick my nose up there this spring. Just two weeks apart in late April and Early May, I made two outings into the North Baker Highway zone on skis. With few trip reports to go off of, each tour was majorly an exploratory mission rather than a big objective; But, together I believe they're worthy of a slog log.
Goat Mountain 5/11/2025
First up was Goat Mountain. Easily seen from the slopes of Mt Baker Ski area, the south face of Goat has tantalized me since I first started skiing here. On a warm, sunny morning in late April, I drove up a snow-free forest service road to the trailhead. I chatted with a pair heading up Goat as well, and then shoved off ahead of them. I hit consistent snow around 4200’ and transitioned from shoes to skis. The traveling was finicky below treeline with open creeks, shifty snow and dense forest. Eventually I broke into the alpine and the going was easy. I followed the summer hiking route up the south ridge. On a steeper bit, I encountered a few easily navigable glide cracks that made me cautious of the warming snow.
I reached the summit of West Goat Mountain around 11am, though ample cornices hanging off the north face prevented much exploration. The only trip reports I had found for Goat detailed climbing the south side (like me), but then dropping on to the north face and skiing out Twin Lakes road past Yellow Aster Butte TH, completing a loop. This sounds like a cool plan, but between the cornices and lack of a partner or knowledge of the route’s conditions, it was out of the question for today. As I transitioned to skis, I was already planning to scope out the loop route as soon as possible.
I began my corny shred and skied what I had climbed, avoiding old wet-loose releases as I descended. Below the glide cracks I passed the other couple, reported the snow was warming quickly, and continued on. Below the treeline the skiing got sticky, patchy and inefficient. I finagled my way through crowded branches and over an occasional dirt patch until I found my stashed shoes again. Back on the regular trail, I walked with ease down to the car.
Winchester Peak 4/26/2025
Two weeks later I headed back up Baker Highway to check out Winchester Peak above Twin Lakes road and campsite. My goals were to reach the Winchester Lookout if possible, but more importantly to shred corn and get a good look at the north side of Goat Mountain and the descent of a possible future Goat loop tour which I had read about.
On another warm, sunny day, I headed up Twin Lakes road and parked at the Yellow Aster Butte Trailhead where large snow patches still existed (even if the snow weren’t there, the road past this point is too aggressive for my sensitive, front wheel drive car). I forgot my trailrunners, so I walked up the road another half mile in my clogs before the snow became consistent and I switched to skis. This approach was much more comfortable and efficient than Goat because the road continues up to 5200’, bypassing the need to schwack through dense branches up the steep slope. Along the way I got my view of Goat Mountain’s north side; and sure enough, an open gully runs from the peak all the way down to the road I was skinning. At this point in the season, the gully was melting out and looked dangerous, but mid-winter I imagine it would be a long, pleasant run.
At Twin Lakes I looked up at Winchester Peak and identified the summer hiking route crossing old wet-loose slide paths and passing under cornices. I decided the risks of reaching the lookout via this route would not be worthwhile, but continued up the route a bit further to a safe transition zone. From this eastern shoulder of Winchester I got a nice view of Mt. Larabee covered in snow, inspiring ideas for new objectives. As the wind picked up, I began my ski back to the lakes, and then back down the road. The snow was corny high up, but quickly became sticky. On the road, a layer of pollen dusted the snow and stuck to my skis severely limiting my sliding speed. Slowly I made my way back to my clogs and walked back to the car.
The high snow line was ideal for Winchester. Being able to drive as far up the road as I did cut many miles from the trip, and I was able to ski nearly all the way back to my car. However, if attempting the Goat loop tour in the future, mid-winter may be the ideal time in order for the north Goat gully to be filled in with snow, as well as Twin Lakes road back to Baker Highway.
South Sister
4/12-4/13/25
Day 1
From the lifts of Mt. Bachelor earlier this winter, I gandered in awe at the prominent South Sister volcano and her craggy neighbor, Broken Top, dominating the horizon. The view inspired another trip down to the ol’ Beaver State for some pyroclastic fun with my cousin, Josh, in April.
After work on a Thursday, I took the seven hour plunge down I5 to my cousin’s place in Bend. A short sleep later, Josh and I had some coffee and headed up to Dutchman Flat trailhead across from Mt. Bachelor. We hoped to make it up and down South Sister in the day, then camp at Green Lake and tackle Broken Top Mountain the next day. Already a bit behind schedule, I thought Josh was joking when he told me his ski boots and helmet were not in the car. It was the truth, unfortunately, so we jetted down to the house and back to collect his equipment. Only an hour was lost, and this blunder gave me free reign to ridicule Josh’s forgetfulness for the rest of our trip.
We shoved off just before 9am. Our first leg was a fast and icy ski down four-miles of the unplowed Cascade Lakes Hwy. It was an efficient way to begin the journey, but we acknowledged the return trip would end with this lengthy hill in reverse. After reaching Green Lakes TH, we slapped on our skins and shuffled through flat, mushy snow toward our peak. These six miles of approach were slow with the warm conditions and heavy packs. It was mid afternoon by the time we reached our camp at Green lake. We lightened our loads and quickly (though tiredly) pressed on, beginning the real climb up the mountain’s south east slopes. An hour in, Josh and I decided against attempting the summit. In addition to our aching feet, the wind was becoming aggressive and we worried about running out of daylight. The new plan would be to retry South Sister the next day and cut Broken Top from the schedule. We transitioned and had a surprisingly nice 1300’ of corn skiing back to camp.
After pitching the tent and sipping some hot tea, Josh and I clipped back into our skis for a final late afternoon jaunt before dinner. We slogged across the lake to a low angle bowl receiving ample end-of-day sunshine. Unfortunately, by the time we arrived and were ready to ski, “Sunshine Bowl” had dropped into the shade as well, and our line was compromised by a crust forming on the snow as the temperature dropped. Glad to finally be done for the day, we whipped up some dinner back at camp and swiftly headed to bed.
Day 2
After an adequate sleep under the full moon, Josh and I arose to a beautiful blue bird day. Though our gas ran out as we melted water for breakfast, our cold oats still tasted delicious under the warm sun (note to self- gas runs out way faster in the cold. We started with a full mini can). Around 9 am we began our shuffle back up the mountain. We cruised up our track from the previous day and were quickly into new terrain. Above 8000’ (about half way from camp to summit) Josh and I benefited from ski crampons on the icy, high alpine surface. We reached the final push above the Lewis Glacier where the slope steepened and skinning no longer felt practical. Here, we broke out our regular crampons and boot packed to the summit*. The wind was horrible above the crest and as soon as Josh and I arrived, we transitioned to skis as fast as we could to get down. Barely able to open my watery eyes in the strong gusts, I followed Josh down the firm headwall. A few hundred feet lower we paused to finally enjoy our efforts and absorb the views. We ate some bagels and summer sausage for lunch on a rocky outcrop, and got ready for our final ski.
Our thighs and teeth chattered aggressively as we skied down another thousand icy feet until suddenly the snow transitioned to epic corn. Josh and I had over 2000’ of surfy, spring time skiing. I thoroughly enjoyed shredding the classic, sprawling volcanic snow fields and thrashing up a long, quarter pipe-like feature that seemed to be shaped by a lava flow. It ended too quickly, of course. Josh and I packed up camp very aware that a heinous slog stood between us and a celebratory beer.
We begrudgingly shoved off on our last leg and spoke little as we shuffled back toward the road. My feet ached something mighty. After a day and a half in ski boots, my soles were pruny and blisters budded on several toes. Each step triggered a fiery sting. Finally we reached the snow-covered road we skied down the day before. Josh and I felt like we ought to be done as we had reached a sign of civilization, but this attitude made the remaining four miles of uphill all the worse. Thankfully, half way back to the lot, an angel sent us a gift from heaven. A big ol’ SUV with tank treads instead of wheels crept past us and then stopped. The driver– an employee at a backcountry lodge in the area– offered to drive us the rest of the way. Without hesitation we accepted and covered the last two miles warm and comfortable aboard this magnificent rig (though the transmission was bonked, so we had to stop every 10 minutes to let it cool. Also, he dropped us off 100 yards from our car, so we still had to skin one more time). Finally back from our humbling slog, we hopped in the car, got ourselves some delicious burgers and went to share our journey with Josh’s family back in town.