I will start this blog with a trip report covering one of my favorite backpacking trips.

It was mid-September and I was itching to go to the North Cascades. I just needed a weather window that looked nice. The past couple of weeks had been all garbage in the forecast, but I kept checking every day. Finally, there were a couple of days that looked promising - low wind (oh, how I wish this part had been true), some clouds, and a very low chance of rain. I treated my new tent with waterproofing goo on the seams and got my gear packed.

All packed and ready, I woke up at 5am and started the 6-hour drive up toward the Mount Baker area. At the ranger station I picked up a camping permit, which is required due to Ruth Mountain being just inside the border of North Cascades National Park.

The Ranger said weather looked great and that I could avoid the glacier and stick to rock all the way up Ruth Mountain. This is not typically possible during most of the year, which is why I chose to do it solo in September. The glacier looks like swiss cheese at this time of year, making it nearly impossible to traverse, and all the surrounding snow melts early-mid September. This leaves a nice path where you can traverse on rock just below the glacier and follow along side it all the way up to the summit. The Ranger also mentioned the last water source was at Hannegan camp, a couple miles from and about 2,600 feet lower in elevation than the summit.

The final few miles down the dirt road leading to the trailhead were long and bumpy. There were a couple spots left on the side of the road for parking. I had read reports of mice being an issue at this trailhead, but didn't think much of it (oops, more on that later).

I grabbed my pack and headed down the trail. It was warm, but not too warm. Perfect hiking weather. The mountains towered around me as I worked my way up the valley toward Hannegan Pass. The air smelled fresh. I could hear the pleasant sound of rushing water reverberating through the valley. This is my happy place. It had been a long time since I last backpacked due to health issues, so the going was not easy. I had been training, hiking with a weighted pack, but not nearly as frequently as I normally did in years prior.

My water was almost depleted when I reached Hannegan camp. I stopped, snacked, and rested as I filtered 3 liters of water, which needed to last until the next morning. Back to the trail, no time to waste. The days were already feeling a lot shorter than in peak summer and I had a hard climb ahead of me. I ran into a group of hikers taking the views in at Hannegan Pass. They were headed a different direction, but we chatted for a bit before I started the harder part of the hike. Up a hill, down the other side, and across the meadow was an extremely steep gully that I had to climb up. I was (rightfully) dreading this part.

I swore as I looked up the gully, knowing how miserable this section would be. Up, up, up. I used roots as veggie belays, trying to keep my footing under the weight of my pack as I slowly but steadily made my way straight up the hellish gully. Sweat poured, I cursed the whole way up, halfway regretting my decision to choose one of the hardest hikes on my list. Finally, I came over the top of the gully and looked across the fields of rock and surrounding peaks. That was awful, but the views were getting better!

I heard voices echoing from below. Two other hikers were at the bottom of the gully. I was expecting to have the summit to myself that night, but it would be nice to have company if they did end up sleeping up there.

I made my way up the trail, curving around the side of the mountain to reveal Ruth Arm. Mount Shuksan and Ruth Mountain came into view as I walked around the bend. The foliage was starting to change colors for fall, and clouds swirled and drifted between the peaks.

It was an incredible view that made the climb up that gully feel worth it. Sunset was getting closer and I still had 1,300 vertical feet to climb, so I quickly followed the trail across Ruth Arm to the base of the mountain. By the time I reached the base I saw some very tempting camping spots protected by a group of trees. My legs were getting sore and I was exhausted. It was a mental battle for me not to just set up camp there and plan on summiting in the morning.

Luckily, I did not give up and pushed forward after looking at the mountain and scoping out what I thought was the best route up. It was intimidating from the base. The glacier is not small and the rock looked far more sheer than it ended up being. The path I chose turned out being nearly perfect. I had to take frequent water breaks and my quads were starting to cramp up with still over 1,000 feet of elevation to go. Stretching was helping, but I was a bit nervous given the degree of exhaustion I felt.

I had cut under the glacier and was now climbing up parallel to it. The ice and rock, clouds, and valley below were all so incredible. Not far from the top now, the other two hikers caught up to me. It turned out they were also going to camp at the summit. We looked in awe at the glacier and the Ruth Creek Valley far below as we introduced ourselves.

The last ten minutes or so was a true battle for me. But I pushed myself, continuing the climb at a consistent, albeit slow pace, and stepped up onto the summit. That moment was magic. The views opened up and clouds soared past, just below the summit. The alpine is like heaven when you get views like these with perfect conditions. I was ecstatic. We all knew sunset was going to be epic with how the clouds were acting.

With 360 degree views, insane in every direction, and an incredible sunset incoming, it was hard to think about having to set up camp. We each claimed a spot to set up, then continued taking in the views. We noticed a strange phenomenon, called a "Glory" or "Broken Spector" (see second photo below) that caused rainbows to form around our shadows due to being directly between the sun and the clouds passing by feet away.

Sunset came quickly and felt like it lasted hours. It was one of the best sunsets I had witnessed in the mountains. We felt as if we'd won the lottery on this one. We were hooting and hollering, madly trying to capture the beauty with our cameras.

Cloud inversions quickly formed, opening up the views even further. The light became warm and lit up the clouds around us. The sun slowly sunk lower and lower, painting the clouds and mountains with vibrant orange light. The wind also picked up, and it quickly became cold.

A nearly full moon rose right over the Picket Range as sunset was peaking. This was better than I could have imagined. A euphoric sense of peace washed over me as I silently thanked the universe for providing these unbelievable conditions. Perfect place, perfect time.

After the colors faded away, I decided to make dinner. I had forgotten about how hungry and tired I was since the moment I set foot on the summit. Now, my body was begging for food and rest. Twenty minutes later I was eating a warm meal while looking out over the cloud-filled valleys guarded by silhouettes of endless peaks.

Night time was far windier than expected. I got about one hour of sleep. With uneven ground and the tent tied to rocks, it was difficult to get a great pitch with my tent that is held up by a single trekking pole. The flapping of the tent was constant. Fortunately, my tent held up through 99% of the night.

It was only 5 minutes before my alarm went off that the wind picked up and one of the rocks I had my tent tied to decided to come loose. My tent collapsed and I ended up having to support the trekking pole with my back while getting dressed and packing up my sleeping pad and bag. The trekking pole dug into my back as the fierce wind tried to knock it down again. The tent was flapping like crazy, acting similar to a parachute or a kite. The wind was trying to rip my tent off the side of the mountain. This was a very awkward struggle between me and the wind, but I somehow managed. A few minutes later I had everything, including my tent, packed up.

I helped one of my fellow hikers by holding his tent up as he got out and started packing up. His tent had normal poles and was on the verge of collapsing. Wind at the top of a mountain is no joke, especially when the temps are low.

Despite an awful night's sleep and crappy windy conditions, we were about to watch an incredible sunrise that would make the night worth it.

The hardest part is sometimes leaving those mind-blowing views behind. We lingered at the summit before deciding the time had come for our descent. We stepped off the summit and started down the mountain alongside the Ruth Glacier. Going down was much faster than coming up and we had arrived at Ruth Arm in no time.

Near the start of Ruth Arm we ran into a nice couple who I'd seen near the trailhead the day before. They had camped on Ruth Arm and avoided the worst of the wind. We assured them the climb is absolutely worth the view and gave them some guidance on the route we had used. It was now warm with the absence of wind and abundance of sun, so we shedded layers then set off across Ruth Arm.

A couple hours later we had reached the trailhead. It didn't feel long, especially with company and good conversation all the way down. We said our goodbyes and I loaded my pack into my car. I had a long drive ahead of me and was tired as hell. It may seem crazy, the obscene amount of time I spend both in the car and struggling up steep inclines for these views and experiences, but it's worth it every single time.

One of the greatest parts of backpacking is the friends you make on the trail. You get to bond over experiences that feel bigger than real life, help each other out, and entertain each other. This trip ended up a huge success. Not even the mouse droppings in my trunk, ravaged snack supply (thank you mice), or the stop-and-go traffic through Seattle and Tacoma could bring me down during the afterglow.