Martins most excellent adventure. Final installment
Its 4pm. A few hours of post-show email catch-ups had turned out to be the best part of a working-day of email catch-ups. Throwing the last few pieces of kit into our packs we were soon to be off on our post-Outdoor Retailer mini-break, a 2-day trip into the remote heart of the North Cascades.
Do you get many Bears in this part of the Cascades? I enquired to Craig. The response was casually dismissive. We neednt worry, you only occasionally see bears in the Cascades, we just need to be sensible.
A long single track road wound its way some 23 odd miles down the spine of the valley. After the first 10 miles or so, the safety and reassurance of tarmac gave way to a maintained gravel track, after 20 miles the condition of the track deteriorated further and gave way to an unmaintained dirt road.
Sitting in the back of Craigs four-wheeled drive Chrysler Van with Josh riding shotgun, Martin and myself bounced along in the back feeling every gravel chip, every rut. I stared into the gloom of the forest floor with little to see except dense forest in the half-light of the rapidly diminishing evening sky.
A Bear! Look a Bear! I shouted excitedly.The Van threw itself to a sharp halt as Craig pressed on the brakes. Quickly reversing back along the track to the point where i had utterly failed to remain calm and composed. Sure enough, scurrying into the murky shadows of the forest, a Black Bear.
Half an hour later, as the long shadows were being overwhelmed by encroaching darkness, I began whistling. I was at the front of the group, walking from the Trailhead deep into the forest towards Spider Meadow. The lateness of the hour meant we would not reach the meadow before nightfall and I was determined to not have any unexpected meetings with Yogi or any of his cousins.
After an hour and a half of walking we reached the boundary of the official Wilderness area. It was nearing 11 o'clock at night. Spying a small clearing in the forest, now was as good a time as any to call an end to the day.
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| Craig tucks into a late dinner |
We sorted out an area to sleep and sat down to a late, but very welcome dinner. I heard a rustle.
What the hell was that? I thought to myself. Images of four climbers mauled bodies ran through my head.
Brits killed in Bear Savagery, that would be a good headline. I then realised we were about to be mauled by at least four bears, either that or this was some horrific genetic mutation and we were in fact about to be mauled by a giant, 8-eyed Bigfoot. I turned the beam of my torch to scan the darkness. Just 10 feet away, I caught the flinch of an ear, then another.
Funny looking Bear I thought. Staring straight at us, and totally bemused by our presence stood four deer. Clearly annoyed that we had set up camp in their living room. Well fed I went to sleep safe in the knowledge I was sleeping in the middle of the group and that martin would be eaten first.
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| Josh awakes from his slumber in the forest |
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| Martin & Craig enjoy a leisurely breakfast |
The following morning we headed off towards Spider Meadow. Like characters from the Borrowers or Mrs Pepperpot, we past underneath towering trees that made you feel like you were immersed in some childhood fantasy world, our statures dwarfed by the theirs.
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| The towering Wenatchee National Forest |
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| The locals appear again |
We eventually arrived in the high alpine valley of Spider Meadow a little before lunch. By now the dense forest was beginning to thin. All around us were the ravaged scars of winter avalanches, foot thick tree trunks snapped in half like matchsticks, torn, twisted and flung around the valley floor. We didnt pause for long, but instead continued on towards Phelps Creek, crunching through a lush, moist carpet of grasses, wild Lupins and Indian Fire-Starters.
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| Spider Meadow. Glacier Peak Wilderness. North Cascades. |
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| Craig and Josh survey the avalanche damage |
I scanned the cirque of summits lying in front of me. Nothing quite made sense. The slightly unusual map scale, being in miles rather than kilometers wasnt helping. Where was Dumbell Mountain? Lying at the head of Phelps Creek in the Glacier Peaks Wilderness, it was the 72nd highest mountain in Washington State. That statistic alone was utterly forgettable but that didnt mean the mountain should have disappeared. With no obvious trail from the upper reaches of the valley, we ditched any unnecessary overnight gear and went off scouting the upper valley.
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| Phelps Creek |
The approach into the upper reaches of the valley wasnt obvious, but nor was it difficult. Climbing out of the heather clad mountain-sides we eventually reached a snowfield. Holding much more snow than the guidebook led to believe was normal for late summer. I looked at my watch, it was a little after 2pm, we'd gone this far, we may as well keep going I thought. I could now spy the higher snow-field and the obvious notch into the skyline ridge we were aiming for.
I struck off up the steepening snow-field. the ferocity of my kick-steps gradually increasing. Above lay shattered rocks. There were plenty of objective risks, aside from the obvious one stemming from a lack of crampons. I focussed on the edge of the snow-field, ocassionally glancing down to assess the slope falling away beneath me, dug my axe deep and kept kicking furious steps for the others to follow.
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| High above the timberline, large snow-fields linger |
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| Craig on the summit of Dumbell Mountain |
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| A very happy Josh on the summit of Dumbell Mountain |
I stepped across onto the partial security of semi-solid rock. Above lay a narrow chimney, littered with loose rock. We stuck close together and scrambled upwards to the main ridge. Half an hour later and we stood at the summit of Dumbell. Josh could scarcely contain his excitement. It was only his second ever climbing trip. Not a bad place to cement your climbing career.
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| Josh, Martin & Craig descending the lower snowfield |
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| Walking wounded. Rich tends to Craig after having had a lucky escape |
We had descended past most of the major difficulties without incident. With a clear run-out beneath us I decided to head off down to the base of the snow-field and wait for the others to catch up. As I approached the edge of the snow-field I heard a gut wrenching scream. The sort of scream that I've heard before, I dont like it. Its a scream that says I'm alive but I've really hurt myself. I looked around and saw the small outline of Craig lurching around on the boulder field above me. Josh and Martin were standing nearby, motionless. For a few seconds i feared Craig had broken something major. I started making my way back up the snowfield. Craig was now on his feet. With the assistance of Josh a definitely bruised and possibly broken Craig was hobbling towards me.
He looked a little shaken and was clearly in pain. His ribs were bruised, his leg lacerated and his ankle was badly swollen. I doubted he could have broken anything, since he was walking but he was nonetheless in a real mess. Our only option was to head down and slowly. It was nightfall before we reached Spider Meadow once more. That was enough adventure for one day.
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| Criaig smiles through the pain with Martin |
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| The adventures over...time to go home |
