#this car climbed mt. washington

[sohannabarberaesque]

From the Home Office in Melrose, NM ...

The Top Ten Reasons Why You're Unlikely to See The Hair Bear Bunch at Clark's Trained Bears act in Lincoln, NH:

10) Their background including time in an ill-managed zoo 9) Scheduling conflicts over the bear mating season 8) The tone and tenor of their humour perhaps being a little too much for the more conservative New England taste 7) Risk for being seen as "unfair competition" in the ursine acting arena, with even Variety taking notice 6) The likelihood of the bears in the Clark's act having heart attacks when they see the madcap ursine trio formerly of the Wonderland Zoo 5) New Hampshire isn't exactly Malibu 4) Their preference for being more in northern Minnesota or Wisconsin, perhaps even in Montana at times, during the ursine mating season 3) Bubi's part of the act potentially crossing the line into ad-libbed raunch which would surprise especially the Boston crowd 2) Titus Moody and/or Earl Pitts likely being in the audience, and unlikely to approve of it when all is said and done 1) Imagine one of those "This Car Climbed Mt. Washington" bumper stickers on Square Bear's Invisible Motorcycle, let alone one for Clark's Trained Bears

With full appy polly loggies to David Letterman throughout

[newhampshireofficial]

"This Car Climbed Mt. Washington Bumper Plate" from the 1950s

[rustystars]

long shot but does anyone remember that art of a car with a million joke bumper stickers... it couldve been a photo but i'm like 80% sure it was a drawing. one of the bumper stickers was a This Car Climbed Mt. Washington sticker but like jokey. like this car fucked it or something like that. that's all i remember i've been thinking about it for weeks😭

[rejectedfables]

"this car climbed Mt Washington" this and "proud parent of an honor student" that. Tell me something exciting. Something new! What about "this car is an honor student" What about "proud parent of George Washington" What about "this car climbed a proud student" Where's the intrigue, where's the suspense

[pangywasntavailable]

that post saying the Old Man of the Mountain is NH's worst attraction is pissing me off because that shit fell down TWENTY ONE years ago. no our worst attraction is mt Washington because of those stupid "this car climbed mt Washington" stickers

[norainahmadme-blog]

Were Bumper Stickers Always This Kooky?

Gone are the days of “Coexist” or “This car climbed Mt. Washington.” Bumper stickers have lately gotten a lot weirder, and much more niche. Source link

[fowle-beaste]

Pair of booty shorts that says “This Car Climbed Mt. Washington”

[johnhardinsawyer]

A Change is Gonna Come (They Usually Do)

John Sawyer

Bedford Presbyterian Church

2 / 19 / 23 – Transfiguration Sunday / Scout Sunday

Matthew 17:1-9

Exodus 24:12-18

“A Change is Gonna Come”

(They Usually Do)

“This Car Climbed Mt. Washington”

According to the number of bumper stickers I’ve seen that say “This Car Climbed Mt. Washington,” there are a lot of cars that have climbed Mount Washington in the White Mountains of New Hampshire.  On occasion, I have also seen a t-shirt that says, “This Hiker Climbed Mt. Washington.”  I tell you. . . I want one of those t-shirts – but only if I earn it.  Some of you might have earned both the bumper sticker and the t-shirt by now.  But I?  Well. . . I have ridden the Cog Railway to the top of Mount Washington, twice.  Does that count?

The more recent time I rode up the mountain, it was cloudy and stayed cloudy the whole time.  It was also raining sideways, which – from what I understand – is decent weather up there on top of the mountain.  But the first time we went up Mount Washington, there were thick clouds that were blowing through and all we could see were clouds.  And then, quite suddenly. . . poof!  The clouds blew away, the sun came out, and we caught a breathtaking view.  We could see for miles. . .

They– whoever “they” are – say that when it comes to the weather at places like Mount Washington, just wait five minutes and it will change.  But the weather isn’t the only thing that ever changes, as most of you know.  We are surrounded by change in the natural world.  We encounter change in our bodies and relationships, and in our ways of thinking, feeling, and doing.  Oh, and there is also change that can take place in our believing.  

No matter where we are in life, a change is gonna come.

Today’s scripture readings are all about change – change that can take us by surprise, change that leaves us breathless with wonder, change that we embrace, and change that we might not like.  

When we meet Jesus and his disciples in today’s second reading, a change has already taken place.  Just prior to today’s passage, Jesus’ disciples are feeling pretty good about life.  They have been traveling around the countryside with this amazing healer and teacher who has attracted crowds of people at every stop along the way.  They have just been to Caesarea Philippi, which is a place that is filled with the sound of flowing water because it is the source of the River Jordan.  Caesarea Philippi was, in Jesus’ day, a summer retreat from the heat of the city and it sat at the foot of Mount Hermon (which is the only place in present-day Israel where you can actually go snow skiing).  Anyway, as Jesus and his disciples sit in this place of lush vegetation, and flowing water, and shrines to Greek and Roman gods, Jesus asks them, “Who do people say that I am?” (Matthew 16:15)  To which Simon Peter responds, “You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God.”  (16:16)

This is a remarkable claim – that Jesus of Nazareth, this teacher and healer, this flesh and blood human being, is actually the Son of God.  To think that these disciples – common fishermen, and tax collectors, and merchants, and farmers from Galilee. . . regular folks – have been living with and breathing the same air as the Son of God is an amazing thing.  Their lives have changed, dramatically, since Jesus came into their lives and said, “Follow me. . .”

If I could imagine myself in their shoes, I’d feel pretty good about myself – called by God’s own Son to follow.  I would feel like I was part of the in-crowd – a coveted spot in Jesus’ inner circle – a much-sought-after position that all of the people who had recently been crowding around Jesus could only dream of having.  This would be the kind of thing that I would always want to stay the same.  I would never want it to change.  

But, a change is gonna come.  They always do.

Imagine the surprise of Simon Peter and the other disciples when Jesus tells them that he must go to Jerusalem and undergo great suffering, and be killed, and on the third day be raised.[1]  This does not go over well with the disciples.  I mean, what would you do if the most amazing person you ever met told you that they were on their way to be arrested and killed?  

So, as today’s reading begins, a change has already taken place.  Six days have passed since this strange and terrible announcement by Jesus – six uncomfortable and awkward days during which the news has begun to sink in.  As the story goes, Peter, James, and John – whose lives and ways of thinking have undergone a lot of change (some of it welcome change, some not-so welcome) – are taken up a high mountain, led by Jesus.  Now, anyone who has climbed a high mountain knows that there are certain things that change as you climb.  The vegetation changes, the terrain changes, the air changes, the weather changes.  

In today’s story, amid all of these changes, an even more dramatic change takes place.  Jesus changes.  In the original language, Jesus undergoes a metemorphothe – a metamorphosis.  He is transformed – transfigured – before them.  The simplest reading, though, is that Jesus “changes in form”[2] right before their eyes.  Jesus’ face begins to shine like the sun and his clothes become dazzling white.[3]  

The Jesus that the disciples think they know so well – the Jesus who is a teacher and healer – can literally now be seen as the Son of God – walking and talking with two powerful figures from the past:  Moses and Elijah, symbolizing the law and the prophets.  “Could this even be real?” the disciples must have wondered.  The answer to this question comes quickly enough, in the form of a bright cloud and a loud voice, which says, “This is my Son, the Beloved; with him I am well pleased; listen to him!” (17:5)  “Just in case you’re wondering,” God is saying, “yes, here is the One for whom you have been waiting.  I am proud of him.  Listen to him.”

If we were to put ourselves in the shoes of Peter, James, and John, we might just be blown away by all of this.  The disciples all fall down, overcome with fear.  

You know, in this story, in which the most obvious change involves Jesus and his bright appearance, probably the most important change takes place in the experience of the disciples who love him and the way this experience changes their minds, and hearts, and fragile faith.  Here, the true identity of Jesus is confirmed by miraculous sight and sound.  And, as they lie – trembling – on the ground, the identity of Jesus is confirmed, yet again, when he reaches out, touches them, and says, “Get up and do not be afraid.” (17:7)  

It should be noted that with this gentle touch, Jesus is able to do what God has never really done before.  For example, in today’s first reading, we see Moses going up the mountain to wait for God to give the commandments which God has written for the people.  But God never reaches out to touch Moses.  It would have killed him.  The image of God in this story is so powerful:  “The appearance of the glory of the Lord was like a devouring fire on the top of the mountain.” (Exodus 24:17)  Moses enters the cloud and is there, with God, for forty days and forty nights.  You should know that partway through those forty days and nights, the people down below start to think that Moses has died – because who could survive up there with all of that fire and cloud?  But Moses does survive, carrying the commandments of God down the mountain with the understanding that if the people follow God’s commandments, they will be blessed.  This agreement – this covenant – between God and God’s people was something new in the ancient world, a change in how divine and human relationships worked.

But sometime between Moses up on Mount Sinai and Jesus on top of the Mount of Transfiguration, another change takes place.  They usually do.

In Jesus, we see God operating in a different way.  God knows that no matter what the commandments are, people like you and I won’t be able to fully follow them or live up to God’s expectations.  The people who received the commandments in the wilderness tried, but often failed, to follow them.  The bumbling disciples didn’t always get things right, either, even when they were right there with Jesus.  We don’t get things right, either.  This is where God’s unique grace and mercy enter the picture.  Where, before, God had said, “If you follow the rules, then you will be blessed, and if you don’t, you will be punished.”  Jesus is now saying, “You are going to break the rules, but my love is here to help you.”  This is where Jesus – filled with all of the holy power of God – reaches out and touches us, and tells us “do not be afraid.”  Do not be afraid, because God’s unchangeable love and mercy are great.  Do not be afraid, because Jesus is with us – God with us – in the flesh.  Do not be afraid when all seems dark and we cannot see the light.  Do not be afraid when the Holy shines so brightly that we have to shield our eyes.  Do not be afraid in the moments when everything changes.  Do not be afraid – no matter the changes that come.  

Because the changes will come, won’t they?  

Perhaps the most dramatic change that takes place if you ever climb a high mountain is that you have to come back down, at some point.  You can’t stay up there, forever.  You might remember that Peter wants to build some kind of buildings up on the mountain, but this suggestion doesn’t really go anywhere.  He might as well have just bought a bumper sticker that said, “These eyes saw something that can’t be described – something that can’t be proven to be true, and now I’ve got this bumper sticker to remember it.”

It is on the mountaintop where you and I might experience some great change, some great epiphany, some great vision, some great experience.  And then, we have to go home – or back to life down below – carrying the change in our hearts into whatever future lies ahead.  For Jesus, the future includes Jerusalem, and arrest, and death, and rising again on the third day.  For the disciples, the future includes watching all of these things take place and then going on to tell the wondrous story.  And for us?  Well, God sometimes gives us moments of bright clarity – mountaintop experiences – that are unique to each of us.  And, if we are paying attention in these mountaintop moments – or, at least carrying them in our memories – they can help us through some of the great changes that come our way.  They can give us strength when we enter the dark valleys of life through which all of us must tread at one point or another.  They can inspire us with something to hold on to when all else seems lost.  

You know, they (whoever “they” are) say that the only constant thing in life is change.  If you were to imagine the great changes that we have seen just in the past three years, it boggles the mind.  It also probably stresses some of us out, especially since we do not know what the future holds.  Change can do that, and some folks deal with the stress better than others.  

But I don’t believe that change is the only constant thing in life.  God’s powerful love is a constant thing, too, thepowerful love that is with us in every moment, offering comfort and saying, “Do not be afraid,” the powerful love that can change us – our hearts, and minds, and believing – so that we can be true disciples. . . followers of the One who came into the world to change everything, making all things new.  

Friends, may we listen for the powerful, loving, and transformational voice of Jesus – whether we are high on a mountaintop or deep in a valley – and may we follow where that loving voice leads, and not be afraid.

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.    

-----------

[1] Matthew 16:21. Paraphrased, JHS.

[2] Walter Bauer, A Greek-English Lexicon of the New Testament and Other Early Christian Literature (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1979) 511.

[3] See Matthew 17:2.

[transgenderer]

@sexhaver said:

"THIS CAR CLIMBED MT. WASHINGTON" bumper sticker right next to one saying "THIS CAR TRAVELED TO THE DEPTHS OF A NUCLEAR INTERNMENT FACILITY"

THIS CAR CIRCUMNAVIGATED THE GLOBE

im not certain but i think the tunnels here in the onkalo repository are like truck width. really like this image. driving a car down the biggest spiral ramp.... extremely good. i wonder what the lowest point navigable by car is. possibly a mine but maybe some sort of nuclear repository, i think a mine is more likely to have specialized equipment for getting stuff in and out

[sohannabarberaesque]

Another poll, as long as it's on my mind

[jay4firefic]

Hi! I’ve been reading through your Buckeride fics and I know this isn’t on your prompt list but I can’t get the idea of long-distance Kelly and 118!Buck where Buck sends him postcards like he used to do with Maddie. Like imagine a post card with a pic of Buck and the first baby he delivers, or Buck mastering a complex Bobby recipe or screenshots of a daring rescue. And Kelly peppering his locker with all of these.

So this is definitely not what you requested, but it's where my weird little brain took me. 1200 words, Buck x Kelly. Buck copes with losing Kelly by hiking across the country. Kelly copes with losing Buck by reading his postcards and sending replies in the form of books. Fair warning, I haven't read all of the books mentioned in this but I'll get around to them eventually.

The first time Buck drops a postcard in the mail to Chicago is a generic shot of the desert, picked up for 60 cents in a tourist trap not far from the head of the trail. Buck prints the address of Firehouse 51 carefully onto the back of the card and spends the rest of the night agonizing over what to write on the rest. In the end he scrawls a messy 2,653 miles to go, wish me luck, and drops it into the mailbox outside of his motel without a return address - he doesn’t have one.

The second is a black-and-white reproduction of Ansel Adams’ Monolith, the Face of Half Dome tucked inside the front cover of the artist’s biography and shipped together in a package from the same post office where Kidd mailed his latest resupply. Yosemite was too fucking crowded. Ansel Adams Wilderness was beautiful though. Did you know he did a whole series on Manzanar, the Japanese internment camp? He was an interesting dude. Hang onto this book for me if you can, please.

His next care package contains a book - Only What We Could Carry: The Japanese American Internment Experience - and even though he hasn’t factored an extra book into his pack weight, he tucks it into his bag along with everything else. When he cracks it open in the fading light of a high altitude sunset he nearly chokes on a mouthful of trail mix. There, on the inside cover, is a note in Kelly’s neat-but-cramped handwriting, just like in every other book he’s ever gifted to Buck. Why do you always pick the most fucking depressing topics to take an interest in? Tell Kidd where I should ship the other 3 books about internment camps when you get off the trail, I’m never going to reread them.

Buck closes his eyes and tips his head up to the sky, staring at the wash of red and orange the sunset paints behind his eyelids until the sting that threatens tears fades away. By then it’s nearly dark - too dark to read, but not too dark to thumb through the pages to find the ones that are dog eared, the passages with stars next to them, the notes in the margins careful never to overlap with the text or images. He doesn’t open it again for almost a week, spends another few days reading it slowly, savoring the notes in the margins and writing his own in return. It’s the continuation of a silent conversation they’ve been having since the first time Kelly picked up one of Buck’s dog-eared, highlighted, scribbled-in books off of the nightstand and returned it to him with three questions and an opinion Buck absolutely had to argue with scrawled inside the back cover.

Except this time...this time Buck can’t read his commentary aloud to Kelly at the end of the day, or ask him to expand on one of the thoughts jotted down at the bottom corner of a page. This time he can’t talk to Kelly at all.

Instead he takes a selfie with the PCT mid point sign and then backtracks to hitchhike into town. He celebrates with a motel room, a shower, and a night in an honest to god bed. Pancakes at the local diner taste like heaven in the morning, he calls Kidd from a curbside bench with a beautiful view of the mountains, and he’s in too good a mood to question it when his feet lead him down the street and into a shop advertising printing.

He has two copies of his selfie printed. One goes into an envelope addressed to 51, alongside a postcard of Mt. Lassen thanking Cindy for the cookies and Mouch for the hockey themed wool socks in his latest resupply. The second he addresses to his old Kelly’s apartment. Thanks for the book. I think I’m going to visit Manzanar after I finish the trail - it’s only a few hours from LA. Maybe I’ll climb Whitney while I’m out there. Hey, did you know Lassen and Shasta are part of the Pacific Ring of Fire? The volcanic landscapes out here are awesome.

Buck almost doesn’t put the second envelope in the mail. He almost puts the book in a box and sends it to Stella instead. But in the end he mails the card, tucks the book deep into his bag where it will sit undisturbed but impossibly heavy with emotion for most of the next two months, and hitchhikes back to the trailhead.

By the time he makes his first stop in Oregon there’s another package: food, socks, a newspaper clipping of Truck 81 saving a little girl and her dog from an overturned car, and a book. Surviving the Stone Wind, clearly purchased used, the cover fraying at the corners and the spine cracked. Inside, beneath a faded note indicating it was once a gift for someone else, Kelly has written Don’t get killed by a volcano. That would be a stupid ass way for a firefighter to go out.

Buck sends a picture of himself from central Oregon tucked inside the cover of the book when he returns it, his handwriting a barely legible scribble beneath Kelly’s sharp letters. At least if I die in an eruption it’ll be quick. I’ve been thinking - there’s a lot of time to think out here - about how we would survive if the Yellowstone Supervolcano ever erupts. The answer is that we probably won’t, but if we did, living through the endless winter afterwards sounds pretty nasty. You know how I hate to be cold.

I bought more hand warmers for the emergency kit, Kelly replies, weeks later, from between the pages of a book about Yellowstone. But I think you’re right. I’d rather go in the explosion.

Buck has another hiker take a picture of him on the Bridge of the Gods, smack in the center of the Columbia river, and scrawls on the back of two copies before sending them off in the mail. The Columbia used to have the largest Salmon run on Earth. I never realized how much we’ve fucked up the environment before spending all this time out in the middle of nowhere. Not that the trail is even the middle of nowhere - thousands of people walk every part of it every year. I wonder what it all looked like before we colonized the West.

The Organic Machine: The Remaking of the Columbia River gets to Buck when he’s a couple of hundred miles into Washington. He flips the cover open eagerly, touches his fingers to the only form of communication he’s had with the love of his life in months. Seems like people have been changing the environment out there since long before white colonizers showed up. They just made it a lot worse. This isn’t going to be one of your “if I had a time machine” obsessions again, is it?

If I had a time machine I’d only go back 10 months, Buck writes inside of the cover. He shoves the book deep inside of his pack, beside the first, and mails back a generic postcard of the Cascades instead.

[thehikingviking]

Boundary Peak & Montgomery Peak from Queen Canyon Trailhead

Memorial Weekend was approaching and I wanted to plan a family trip up a noteworthy peak. Believe it or not, I actually caught Asaka perusing Peakbagger one night. She was looking at state high points. She already has climbed the high points of California, Hawaii, Oregon and Washington (in addition to the high points of Mexico and Japan), so it made perfect sense to climb the high point of Nevada next. I had put off this peak for no good reason, so now I finally had enough motivation to write this one down on my official calendar. Also in the nearby vicinity of Boundary Peak is Montgomery Peak, which I needed to climb as well. I studied the distance, elevation gain and difficulty of the two peaks and came to the conclusion that I would be able to carry the baby to the summit of Boundary Peak, but it would not be prudent to continue to Montgomery Peak with the baby. Since Asaka was mostly interested in the Nevada high point, we agreed that I could leave the baby with her on Boundary Peak, and she could get a head start and carry Leif down the mountain without me. The second major challenge was how to manage the long drive. Our solution was to break it up in segments. We planned to lay over one night at my family cabin in Sonora. Our second night we planned to stay at Benton Hot Springs, stopping along the way for lunch and a short hike. Our third night we planned to camp near the trailhead at Queen Canyon Mine after doing a few short hikes in the greater Benton area. For the sake of completion, I will include a short summary of these small side hikes in my trip report.

I sent out some feelers to some prospects that I guessed would be interested. Brett Marciasini, Scott King and Sean King took the bait. I then extended the invite to some of my non-hiking friends Brian and Zach. I refer to them as my non-hiking friends not because they don’t hike, but because our friendships started from working at Texas Instruments at one point in time. They have been projects that I have been sculpting over time in the effort to develop new hiking partners. This would be a good test for both of them, as I planned a hybrid dirt bag weekend. While I usually take care of most of the specifics with regards to preparation, this time I felt they were ready to take on more responsibility, such as managing their own food, lodging and transportation. This new freedom would allow me to focus more on my wife and baby.

After our first night in the cabin, we drove over Sonora Pass and then down Highway 395 to the Mobile Mart where we had lunch. There was an easy peak called Sagehen Peak referenced in Andy Zdon’s book “Desert Summits” that I wanted to climb. Good dirt roads took us to the Sagehen Saddle, located less than a half mile from the summit. We possibly could have driven up to the summit, but we were all a little restless from riding in the car and we wanted to get some fresh air. After a short walk up the sandy road, we found a rocky outcropping that required a short, easy scramble. It was easy enough for me to climb with the baby in my arms.

Off towards the east were Boundary Peak, Montgomery Peak and Mt Dubois. A late season storm struck the Whites a week prior, and there was a little more snow that I anticipated.

To the north was Mono Lake.

It was a nice little peak, and we rested awhile on top, but there was a slightly higher summit called Crooked Benchmark to our west. We started back down the road so I could get started on the bonus peak.

A twister swirled through the forest on this calm and sunny day.

Zach decided to join me for Crooked Benchmark while the others waited at the car. I didn’t even bother putting on my hiking shoes expecting an easy walk up, but we soon found ourselves bushwhacking through willows. Zach decided early on that this was not fun, and smartly made the decision to turn around. My obsessive compulsiveness had me push forward, but it was rather unpleasant. I kept thinking that the brush would abate, but it remained consistent almost all the way to the top. I found a register at the summit and I had a good view of the Sierra Nevada.

I didn’t want to retrace my steps back down to the car. I walked to the ridge and yelled down at the others to pick me up on the south side of the summit. I don’t think they were able to understand me. I also sent a GPS pin to Brian, but received no response so was unsure if he got it. The southern slopes were much easier. I dealt with some sage brush scratching my shins, but this was a minor inconvenience. I walked out the road, and I eventually found the others parked where I left the pin. We then drove to Benton Hot Springs where I checked in for the evening. We barbecued on Zach’s grill and drank some beer.

I felt a little awkward since Zach and Brian would be left on their own to camp in the desert while Asaka, Leif and I had reservations at the historic inn. I booked the last available room and there was simply no other option. I drove them to a flat tract of BLM land and apologized. Zach responded by stating something along the lines of, “Are you kidding me? This area is incredibly beautiful and we are happy to stay here.”

It was beautiful as dusk descended upon the snow covered Boundary Peak and Montgomery Peak above. I no longer felt guilty. Leif was sleeping when I returned, so Asaka and I snuck out to enjoy the hot springs.

Montgomery Peak was visible from our tub.

The next morning we regrouped at Benton Hot Springs and awaited the arrival of Brett and the Kings. After a round of introductions, we followed Yellow Jacket Road south through the Benton Paiute Reservation. I turned left on a 4WD road I spotted from satellite view and the topo map. We planned to hike from here, but I decided to see how far I could drive. Scott was a little less zealous about driving up the road than I was, so he and Sean piled into Brett’s truck and they followed me. With a great deal of patience, we made it almost the whole way up the peak. We parked at a mine in between Blind Spring Hill and Diane Peak.

It took us all but five minutes to reach the to of Blind Spring Hill.

To the southwest was the Sierra Nevada.

To the west was Glass Mountain Ridge.

To the east were Montgomery Peak and Mt Dubois.

To the southeast was White Mountain.

While the peak was “just okay”, the summit register contents were a treat. Scraps went back to 1966.

The refurbished book was a standard Gordon Macleod and Barbara Lilley register, which is almost a standard for all the arcane desert peaks throughout the southwest.

One of the early signatures was from Andy Zdon, the author of “Desert Summits”. If was solely because of his book that I decided to climb this peak in the first place. 

In addition to Blind Spring Hill, there are six other named summits in close proximity along this ridge. These little peaklets were most likely named because of mining claims, and are hardly peaks at all. Since we had a full day ahead of us, we decided to only climb Diana Peak as a bonus peak, as this was less than a quarter mile from our car. 

The little bump was not much of a peak, but allowed us to pad the stats. 

We walked back down to the car and drove back to Benton. We were ahead of schedule so we decided to visit Trafton Mountain and Antelope Mountain just north of town. I led the way with my Jeep, but unknowingly made a big navigational error. There is a very good 2WD road that follows a powerline that crosses over the saddle between Trafton Mountain and Antelope mountain, but I somehow missed it. Instead, I led the group up a rarely driven 4WD road. It was incredibly rough and sketchy in parts. At one point we had to get out of our vehicles to move a fallen tree.

I was relieved to finally reach the better powerline road, but I was a little ashamed. We wasted a lot of time and mental energy dealing with that section of road. Asaka and Leif decided to skip Trafton Mountain and instead ate some lunch. We left them in the shade and started hiking towards the peak.

We hiked southwest up sandy and rocky slopes. It was a little too warm for my liking. Brian ran into a little issue when he kicked a cactus with his finger shoes. It took us about an hour to reach the summit.

We were again blessed with another Zdon signature in the register.

One the way down we found the remains of a deer.

Brett had a go at it, ripping the head clean from the still attached leg.

Brian was a little surprised to see us admire the carcass with such enthusiasm. I told him that dismantling dead animals is what white people do for fun.

We found sandy slopes on the way down. In the end it was a 2.6 mile outing.

Once reunited with Asaka and Leif, we got back in the car and followed a spur road all the way to the summit of Antelope Mountain. There were several structures on the summit. To the west was the salt flat called Antelope Lake.

To the south was Trafton Mountain.

I was mostly satisfied after 3 summits from Andy Zdon’s book. We drove back to the freeway following the good road this time. The difference was night and day. After filling up gas in Benton, we drove into Nevada, then took a right on Queen Mine Road. We spotted a Mustang in the canyon below Mustang Peak.

We stopped at Queen Mine where we decided to spend the night. We considered camping at the Queen Mine Trailhead, but settled on this location because it offered wind protection. Also, it was a really cool spot.

We spent the next few hours grilling Brett’s self-killed Bison, drinking beer and listening to music by the campfire. Sean and I thought about heading up Mustang Mountain, but in the end I decided against it, feeling a little worn out from earlier.

The next morning we drove the remaining mile up the road to the Queen Mine Trailhead. My Jeep and Scott’s 4Runner had no problems with the road.

I told everyone not to wait for me, since I would be slow carrying the baby. Asaka picked up Leif and then left me! That message wasn’t meant for them.

I organized some last minute things then started off at 6:45am.

The trailhead is at 9,800 feet, which is pretty high. I spent the first mile or so focusing on breathing. Asaka thankfully waited for me and we hiked in unison.

It felt like a Martian landscape with the moon setting above the desolate terrain.

There was a really good trail climbing up the ridge. A lone deer watched me as I slowly lugged my payload uphill.

Even with my extra weight, I passed Brian early on. I hoped that this hike wasn’t too much for him. After a mile, Boundary Peak came into view.

T'was a lovely family day.

The trail stayed flat for 1.7 miles until Trail Canyon Saddle. Brett, Zach and the Kings were already way ahead of us and out of sight.

To my pleasant surprised, we ran into a herd of mustangs.

I think one of them was pregnant. There were several foals among the herd.

Brian paused for a while to photograph the ungulates.

We stopped for Leif’s breakfast along this flat portion. Maintaining his schedule is very important, even if it means falling further behind the group. He ate his blueberry oatmeal and banana without a care in the world. I was concerned since Brian hadn’t caught up to us by the time Leif finished his breakfast, but my priority was with my family. We continued all the way to Trail Canyon Saddle.

The fun part was now over for me. From here on out, I had to put in the work. The route continued steeply from here on out, but this was made easier since the trail remained underfoot. I finally spotted Brian down below and by all indications he was continuing. Across the saddle was Trail Canyon Saddle Peak. I hoped to tag this bonus peak on my return.

The false summit of Hosebag Peak was a little deceptive. It would have been worse if I didn’t expect. It was a little demoralizing to know that I still had to climb 1,000 feet from here, but it was still early and I was making good time.

Love.

The trail stays atop the ridge. The snow caused no impediment.

The ridgeline became more serrated and the trail eventually petered out. There are class 2 ways up from here, but if one is not paying attention, they can easily find themselves on class 3. 

I could spot Sean and Zach on the summit from below.

Asaka chose a lower route while I stayed closer to the top of the ridge. I felt like we were going slow, but then I spotted Brett and Scott not so far ahead of us.

A light trail reemerged higher up the mountain. I worried that Sean and Zach were waiting too long for me on top. I worried that Brian wouldn’t make the summit.

I had to cross some soft snow as I neared the top, but this was not a challenge. Montgomery Peak finally came into view beyond.

We reached the summit at 10:45am, four hours after we started out.

I unloaded the baby, inadvertently waking him in the process. Hey bud, welcome to the high point of Nevada.

Sean had been waiting on the summit for over an hour. He beat Zach by 20 minutes. Brett and Scott were only about 10 minutes ahead of Asaka and me. Brian was still nowhere to be found. I texted Brian and told him that he had a 1pm turn around time, and I told Scott to tell Brian to turn around if he had not made the summit by that time. I relieved myself of baby carrying duties and let Asaka take care of the rest. Brett, Sean, Zach and I turned our focus to Montgomery Peak. We dropped off the mountain and hiked towards the saddle where we crossed the California and Nevada border.

We had read a diverse set of claims from various trip reports and weren’t quite sure what to expect. In the end, the traverse was mostly class 2 with some easy class 3 and a few sections of loose rock.

We hiked mostly on top of the ridge, but in the places where the ridge became sharp, we stayed underneath the left side. The route finding was very easy and well placed cairns but and end to any doubts.

A lone climber passed us on the final stretch. Once on the summit we introduced ourselves and I learned that he went to my same climbing gym in San Jose. To the north were Mt Dubois and White Mountain.

To the southwest were Benton Point and the Sierra Nevada.

Way below us to the northwest were the diminutive Trafton Mountain and Antelope Mountain. Beyond that were the high peaks of Yosemite and a sliver of Mono Lake.

Way off to the north were Mt Grant and Walker Lake.

To the northeast were the Volcanic Hills and desert wasteland.

To the east ran Middle Creek Canyon.

The conditions couldn’t have been better. On our return, we decided to pick a route staying along the top of the ridge. Brett, who was a little nervous of the ridge traverse at first, mastered this knife edge section and proved to all that he is a master scrambler.

-Middle Creek

Our remaining group was gone by the time we reached Boundary Peak.

We took only a short break here before descending back down. Brett and I stopped to bag Hosebag Peak, which stood just a few minutes off the trail. Sean already did this on the way up, and he had his eyes set on the bonus peak Mustang Mountain on the other side of Queen Canyon Saddle. Zach didn’t seem to care about any more bonus peaks and simply continued down.

From Hosebag Peak, we followed the trail down to Trail Canyon Saddle.

Brett and I then marched up barren slopes to the summit of our last bonus peak for the day.

The views from the summit were sublime.

From the summit, we continued down the ridgeline until we naturally intersected the trail.

I left Brett somewhere along this off trail section and began a powerwalk once I reached the trail. 

I soon caught up to Brain. I was thrilled to learn that he made the summit before his turn around time. He seemed to be having a great day.

I was surprised to catch Zach next. He was seriously feeling the altitude. I bade him farewell and continued ahead. Asaka and Scott just barely beat me back to the car. I was happy to see my wife and baby happy and in one piece. Apparently Leif spotted a herd of deer and pointed them out to the previously unaware Asaka and Scott.

Brian finished the hike at the same time that Sean came back from Mustang Peak, so timing was perfect. After some hydrating, we all hopped back in the cars and drove back out to Highway 6.

Once on pavement, we said goodbye to the Kings who had High Sierra plans later in the week. The rest drove back to Lee Vining for dinner. Asaka was tired and the baby was fussy, but things got better once we all got some dinner inside of our bellies.

After dinner, we found a dirtbag spot just outside of Bridgeport where we spent the night. We planned to climb South Sister in the Sweetwaters the following day before driving back home to the Bay Area.

[thehoneybuzz]

Ashes to Ashes

Before April 23rd, I had never seen Mount St. Helens. She was a legend from my history textbooks - a harbinger of dark skies and an earth shaker. The Yakima Indian tribe calls her Si Yett, meaning woman. According to tribal mythology, the Great Spirit placed Si Yett between the battling brothers, Mount Adams and Mount Hood, to protect the region. Like other legends, Helens is a great marker of time. The question of, "Where were you when…" elicits memories as vivid as the glint of the glassy snow I found on her peak. 

After her eruption, some thought the world was ending. Observing her crater, her jagged peaks, and the ribbons of steam issuing from her, still - silent reminders of her violent potential - you are struck by her serenity as well as her power. Her allure is not a mystery, and it is that allure which called to me.

I thought she would make a perfect beginning. With peak elevation at 8,366 feet, she doesn't quite make the top 10 list of Washington's highest summits. Even at her tallest - 9,677 in 1980 - she only ranked at number five. Despite her diminished proportions, her treachery remains in her grade. You gain one thousand feet of elevation over each mile which makes her a formidable challenge. It was just the challenge I was looking to find. 

I packed and repacked gear, reviewed chapters on ice ax use and cold-weather layering in the Mountaineering Bible, and streamed endless hours of online videos in preparation. I hoped that all of this, in addition to my physical training, would be enough. I would be climbing my first mountain, and I would be facing the challenge alone. My companion was another inexperienced climber, and in conquering Helens, I would be solely responsible for my success - or my failure. 

Alone isn't something I'm afraid of - there is something to be said for self-sufficiency. My self-reliance has taken me to beautiful and terrifying places, unlocking the world in ways I couldn't anticipate. Being prepared, however, is critical. 

In aviation, before each flight, you inspect your airplane. The procedure never changes. Check oil, check gas, wings, ailerons, flaps, luggage compartment, rudder, elevator, wheels, brakes, antennas, lights, avionics. At this point in my flying career, the movements are automatic. I'll never forget the words of my first instructor, who told me, "You never want to be in the air wishing you had checked something on the ground. If you can be proactive, you should be. It could save your life." 

I took the lesson with me into mountaineering as I obsessively cycled through my gear list. I knew I was ready. So why did it feel like something was missing? I searched myself for answers. Charlie, our dog, sensed my impatience and rolled over on top of my neatly organized gear - adding a collection of his hair to my merino wool base layers. I laughed as I knelt to scratch him.

"Extra protection," I thought. 

That's when it hit me. 

Growing up, I lived on 20 acres adjacent to miles of preserved natural land. I spent most of my childhood with a book, a pocket knife, and a dog exploring the wilderness behind our home. It's where my love of nature was born. Jake, our family dog and a legend himself was my eager companion. 

"You can go wherever you'd like..." my mom would say as I packed a lunch for the day, "... so long as you bring the dog."

Jake was freedom, a good listener, and a ready companion. He was our protection. When my parents told me they'd be dividing our land and developing a new housing community, I mourned for myself, but I remember thinking what would happen to Jake. Had my parents forgotten him in their grand planning? I didn't know how he would survive in a shrinking world. 

It ended up not mattering much. My mom and step-dad divorced before the development took off. My brother, mother, and I moved into a one-bedroom apartment, and we took Jake with us. I was right to be worried about shrinking worlds but underestimated the magnitude. 

As I agonized over my lost home, Jake took on a new kind of protection. A constant in the raging sea of our changing lives, he remained steadfast. Unbothered by his changing condition, his fur caught my tears, and his ears caught my troubles. As a family, we rebuilt our lives. 

Jake held on for years for us, but after his hips went to the dysplasia typical of his breed, he simply couldn't hang on anymore. He let us know it was time - another one of his great mercies - and we did right by him. We lost our best friend that day. For all the space I thought he needed, what he wanted most was to be in our arms. That is how Jake left the world. If love could have saved him, it would have. 

No one quite knew what to do with his ashes. At first, it felt too soon. Having to say goodbye again so shortly after his loss seemed impossible. So Jake's ashes went into a cupboard, and there he stayed for 15 years. No moment or location ever seemed quite right. 

We had to move several boxes to find him. I remembered the sound of his collar as I gently divided his remains, securing a healthy portion rather unceremoniously in a ziplock bag. It was decided. I was taking Jake to the top of the mountain - My protector.

When I made it to the summit, I sobbed. I was overwhelmed at the release I felt - making those last few steps and revealing the world in all her glory. Mount Adams feels so close you truly feel as if you can reach out and touch his peak. The cornices that form atop the crater's edge tempt and terrorize you as you long to peek over their precarious ledges to view the scenery below. Rainier - invisible behind the peak - comes into view so sharply and suddenly that it shocks you. I don't think I'll ever be able to describe the peace and power you find at the top of mountains. 

As I took Jake's ashes from my pack, I looked up to find a group of skiers summiting behind me. I gasped out loud when I saw their companion. They had brought their young yellow dog - a ghost of Jake - to the summit. The dog smiled at me and came over.

I couldn't hide my tears as I buried Jake's remains in the snow. He had waited so patiently and so long to be back in nature. Putting him there felt almost spiritual. Ashes to ashes as two legends and mythical protectors - mountain and dog - laid together. Through tears, I shared my story with the group. Pippin, their lab, licked my ungloved hand as the alpine sun dried my tears. We toasted summit beers to mountain dogs and took off down the slope together. Having protected me one more time, Jake lay at rest on the summit at last. 

This June, I'll attempt Mt. Baker, and Jake will be with me again. It's been so many years since his passing; I was shocked at the depth of my emotions as I kneeled with his remains in the snow. I know rationally that his ashes add weight to my pack and don't offer any 'real' safety. You can't burn them in the cold; they don't purify water or offer sustenance. They are frivolous from the rational perspective. Yet, I can't imagine a summit without him. 

Growing up, I wanted a dog so badly that I gave my mom a PowerPoint presentation about why I deserved one. It's the irrational I'm interested in now. Knowing that when I needed him most, Jake was within arms reach, ready to guide me home. 

I honestly don't know if this is a story about mountains or a story about dogs. If it's a story about mountains, I could describe how every moment spent on the descent, I marveled at the beauty of the natural world. If it's about dogs, I could tell you about the two wet noses that welcomed me home: Sophie, my perfectly round Beagle with soft ears, and the sweetest hellos. Charlie, my foster fail, who, despite having been hit by a car as a puppy, approaches each day with an unrivaled sense of enthusiasm and joy. His love for life has reached me even in my darkest moments. Many happy years remain before I carry them up the summit, and for that, I am grateful.

By the time my feet hit the pavement of the trailhead, I could wring out my socks. They had been drenched in melting show. I was happy and exhausted. It struck me again how the world keeps turning even in those surreal moments when time appears to stand still. Our descent had been complicated - but proved I could endure difficult things. I sang as I removed my boots and smiled, leaning against the trunk of my car. I looked up at the mountain - invisible in the evening mist - that I had just conquered. 

Mountains and dogs, I thought. A girl doesn't really need much else.