Seeking Snowking: Majestic mountain in the Glacier Peak Wilderness tests even best navigators

They were lost.

But the four members of the Everett Mountaineers stayed calm, sure their situation would be temporary.

It didn't make it any easier, however, as they bushwhacked, befuddled, along the lower flanks of majestic Snowking Mountain.

Two hours of uncertainty ticked by as they hurdled fallen trees in heavy forest and checked their compasses repeatedly for clues.

"We were totally exhausted, covered with sweat and grime," said trip member Brian Booth, who will present a slideshow on the foursome's adventure on Wednesday in Everett.

"The insides of our clothes were all filled with fir needles. We had cuts and scrapes."

Their situation was a classic scenario for those who brave Snowking Mountain, one of the most remote and massive peaks in the Glacier Peak Wilderness.

Lisa Loper, who led the trip, knew navigation would be one of the biggest challenges of their 20-mile round trip.

"You're never as far as you think you've gone," Loper said. "You think you've gone a half-mile when you've gone a quarter-mile."

Such a situation could have turned into a nightmare for the hikers, who were on a private trip, not an official club outing, last July.

Earlier that day, all four had reached the 7,433-foot-high summit of formidable Snowking Mountain under blazing blue skies.

Snowking isn't exactly a well-known destination among casual hikers. There isn't a trailhead or a marked route to the massive, glacier-smattered summit.

Snowking keeps the small bidders out with a brushy road hike to start, followed by a barely visible, vegetation-choked climber's trail, snow and a final rocky scramble.

In the days before heading out, members of the group studied maps, climbing guides and online trip reports to find the best route.

"You've got to have your map in one hand to navigate," Booth said. "You're trying to thrash through this brush with one hand.

"You're sometimes sliding backward trying to climb up and you're got a lot of brush in your way that's preventing you. It's really grueling."

Such conditions would have the average day hiker turning back for the Subaru in minutes.

But that's just the kind of wilderness puzzle that appeals to Loper, who felt honored to tread with the backpack-saddled group.

"It's fun," said the oncology nurse. "I just like the challenge and saying, 'This is where I'm going to go,' and finding my way."

Once the group reached a main ridge, expansive views began to open up. Glacier Peak, Mount Baker, Ptarmigan Ridge and Snowking's massive crown of snow eventually emerged.

When they arrived at the mountain's alpine jewel, Cyclone Lake, they found a mostly frozen tarn that glowed aqua blue around its edges, thanks to a heavy snow year.

"It's like a swimming pool," Booth said. "It just creates this really striking turquoise ring around this frozen lake."

They camped on a snowy bench above the lake in moonlight and awoke before dawn to assault the summit with crampons and, upon reaching the final 200 feet of rock scramble, helmets.

By 9 a.m., they were on top of the world, surrounded by spectacular rock and ice formations, wondrous glaciers and "magical little lakes" Booth half-expected to see lined with leprechauns.

"It was just a thrilling experience to be up on that summit," Booth, a Boeing engineer, said of their hour on top.

"There are so many high peaks that are all around it in every direction. It's just a fabulous feeling of being out there on our own in completely untamed wilderness. It's sort of one of those once-in-a-lifetime trips."

They had the mountain to themselves.

They also had their entire 5,000-foot descent, nearly a vertical mile, to do in one day with no maintained trail to lead them out.

That was the day they became lost, despite accomplished navigation skills, despite having left orange tape on the trees on their way up.

Wanting to descend quickly and easily, Booth offered an idea: "I told everyone, 'I'll lead you to one of those orange flags.' They all followed me. They all agreed to that and I didn't get us there."

Booth's idea for a shortcut wasn't crazy. All four knew how to navigate off trail.

But a series of small errors and overestimations put them off course, stuck in a series of jumbled deadfalls and thick, steep brush, including devil's club and its sharp thorns.

"I've actually never been that lost before," Loper said, adding that they eventually forced themselves to go back to basics.

John Adamek, one of the trip members, identified a familiar peak that helped them chart their course down.

"You work as a group," Loper said. "Once we used the skills we knew in navigation, we knew where we were in 10 minutes."

Everyone in the party kept their head, including the fourth member of the party, Don Swanson. All were graduates of either the Mountaineers' alpine scrambling or basic climbing courses.

"If I was with just any random group of people and we got into this situation, I'm sure it would have developed into an argument," Booth said. "After this trip was over, I just realized the value of being in the Mountaineers club."

Booth would recommend Snowking Mountain to only the most fit and experienced route finders, ideally people who have taken Mountaineers training courses.

"This is the type of thing that's possible if you take the alpine scrambling course," he said. "This trip definitely falls in the category of 'Don't try this at home.' "

Shortly before sundown, the group reached the car. Starving, they headed directly for civilization: Sedro-Woolley.

"We made it to the Dairy Queen one minute before they closed," Booth said. "It was greasy and nasty, but it tasted great.

"Hunger is the best sauce in the world."



Reporter Sarah Jackson: 425-339-3037 or sjackson@heraldnet.com