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Trip Reports
Here's where you peruse WACer trip reports and post your own for everyone to see. Remember: Never let the truth interfere with a good story! | Trip Reports |
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| GuideBook | Green Becky |
| Weather | Overcast, some rain |
| TrailConditions | Muddy, brushy, non-exsitent |
| Owned By | jonathanpryce |
| Mailed to WacList | |
| RowId | 45 |
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| Mountain |
Elevation |
Summitted |
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| Benzarino, Mount |
7740 |
false |
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Trip report: Baring Mountain
Sunday, June 1st
My friend Peter and I decided to scramble up Baring Mountain. (6125’). Baring sits in the SW corner of the 15 min. Monte Cristo quad. We followed the NW Ridge route described by Becky in vol. 2 of the Cascade Alpine Guide.
The weather was less than auspicious as we left the dry interior of the car and headed out into the wet world. It was raining, and pretty hard at that. Well, what the hell, we decided, we’re guys and needn’t exhibit any common sense. The trip commences at about 2290’, at the Barclay Lake Trailhead, the terminus of FS road 6024, just a few miles from the little town of Baring on the Stevens Pass Hwy.
Begin by staying on the now-abandoned logging road, i.e., not by taking the trail to Barclay Lake. Proceed some 1/10 of a mile to a spot where, in season, a sprite little stream gushes down the hill side. Doesn’t look like a likely place for a trail, does it? Well, that’s where you start. And you were right, it isn’t much of a trail, as it gains some 500 feet through the mud, alder, and devil’s club of a clear-cut. Exiting the clear-cut you arrive in a forest of hemlock and douglas fir and follow the climbers’ trail to the ridge top at some 4000 feet. The trail gets lost now and then, or rather you do, that is, we did, but just keep climbing upward and onward, trusting in map and compass and staying left about 1/2 of the way up to avoid some cliffy formations. The ridge makes for a pleasant promenade, more or less level, with the resonant “Vroom” of an owl as accompaniment. By now the rain had mostly ceased.
After maybe one-half hour of walking, you spot a cliff in your path and follow the tread around to the right, ascending again after about one-half hour. We lost the trail in the snow, but were easily able to navigate with the map and Becky’s description. Gaining the ridge anew, you are deposited just above a small flattish area and can see the gully leading east (and a little south) up to the saddle between the twin summits of Baring. To our left, on the ridge top, rather dramatic cornices rose into the sky. After digging around a bit and deciding that the avalanche danger was minimal, we hoofed it up the snow-filled gully, and gained the saddle, ca. 5600’. To the right rise the steep cliffs of the south summit of Baring. The east exhibits a very steep plunge down into the Barclay Creek drainage. The drop was not to be seen in the fog, but the map was convincing enough. Our fate, however, lay to our left, and included a very steep snow face, some 70 feet high and growing skyward each minute I studied it. All in all, a very vertical world. We decided climb the snow wall nonetheless, at each step plunging the axe in up to the adze, kicking very good steps and then repeating the process until we were delivered into a much more level world. Well, level by comparison, at least. Working our way mostly left and passing some amazing tree wells along the way, we hit the exposed rock just below the summit block and scrambled to the top. By then it had cleared somewhat, and we looked down at the little hamlet of Baring, and cars that appeared as if they were practically crawling on the asphalt below. Views even opened up out the Skykomish Valley, and a hole in the clouds revealed a fleeting glimpse out to the Sound. Time from Tercel to top was about 4 and 1/2 hours.
All right, time to quit the summit and descend. We moved cautiously down the steepish snow slopes to the Great Vertical Snow Between Us and a Glissade. Downclimbing proved a bit more interesting then upclimbing, so we moved even more deliberately, plunging the axe with more gusto and kicking with more vigor that I had imagined possible. Down at the col again, we treated ourselves to some backwash water and stale nuts before our butt-bumpy glissade down to the flats at the bottom of the gully. Our heinies wet but none the worse for the wear, we ambled up on over the ridge and then into the hemlocks and down the snow until we found the trail again which led us back to the ridge again, and our still present owl buddy.
The trip down the mostly snowless slopes was perhaps the most challenging part: it had started to rain again in earnest, and the world was more slippery than before. Oh, the agony of the approach and worse, the indignities of the descent! Barbed plants, slippery ferns, muddy, mossy slopes in dank, dark jungle-like forests and dubious vegetable belays greeted us at every turn. Often, facing slopeward to gain a better toehold on the slick but dear earth, your nose is literally rubbed in the ecstatic, almost obscenely jubilant fecundity of spring in the North Cascades. I nearly managed to snort a Trillium bud. Emerging into the clear-cut, we endured the cheerful taunts of that perky little stream, as it brightly and effortlessly cascaded over mossy rock and through tiny meadows, mocking our slow, clumsy efforts to return, with all our pieces intact and serviceable, to our infernal combustion-powered chariot And I thought mountaineering consisted of striking manly poses on clean rock and noble snow, the proud subject framed by a few unobtrusive and tastefully placed firs. Oh, well. At least I can drink a buttload of beer if I get back home safely.
Arrive safely we did, hugely satisfied with the hike and our little adventure. After a hot shower and maybe one-half of a cold beer, I was sound asleep on the couch!
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