The forecast for the Darrington area was for rain on Saturday morning and high pressure building on Sunday. It was a little vague about what was supposed to happen between Saturday morning and during the day Sunday. On the theory that a rainy day outside is better than a sunny day sitting at home, we headed to Sloan Peak.

Sloan Peak is somewhat excessively pointy and features a wide, exposed west face with cracks, dihedrals, roofs, and blocks all over it. The aesthetics and relatively short approach make it popular with climbers, with a variety of routes including the third class Corkscrew Route first done in 1921 by miners Harry Bedal and Nels Skaar and a new “5.10++” route put up just a few weeks ago by Blake Herrington and Rad Roberts. We were aiming for something in between, the 5.8 Northwest Buttress.

On the drive up the weather was starting to look promising (or at least promising enough to give us a bit of hope). On the Mountain Loop Highway a few patches of blue sky opened up and we convinced ourselves that the water on the windshield was just splashing from the road. On the drive up the rattly logging road and the hike up the quiet, overgrown trail we convinced ourselves the rain was just dripping from the trees. One benefit of the dampness is the array of mushrooms of all shapes and colors.

Amanita

When we emerged into the final clearing in the basin and had our first fog-veiled glimpse of the West Face we did have to admit it was actually raining. Fortunately we found a giant boulder to use as an awning. It even had a couple of metal rods pounded in it to hang our climbing gear on.

At least we had a nice camp

After some recreational eating in the dry spot under our boulder, we settled in early for the night. Rain dripped, dropped, and sprinkled on the unsheltered back end of the tent all night and into the early morning. There might have been hope for the rock to dry out if the sun came out, but when we peeked out, we saw this:

Good Morning, Sloan

Heavy fog didn’t look good for dry rock, and neither did the snow on the upper half of the mountain that we saw when the fog blew away for a second. Sometimes the weather wins, but at least we could distract ourselves with snacking on our way out:

Huckleberries!

Links: Bedal Creek Trail description, more photos

Most of the elevation gain is on the scenic drive up the good gravel forest service roads (use the Green Trails map or the thicker Washington Road atlas), so White Chuck is easy to fit in a short afternoon.

The trail is mostly flat and easy to follow until a bit of loose talus/heather gully scrambling. There are multiple climbers’ trails and the gentle slope on this side makes getting off route not a big deal (we went a “different” way coming down). The crux was the yellow jacket nest in the woods. I recommend the run and yell technique. Just like you can yell “rock” for any dropped object, you can yell “bees” for any variety of stinging insect.

Cairn

But of course, just because a hike is short it doesn’t mean it’s not rewarding. When we got to the top we were rewarded by emerging above the clouds to blue skies and magnificent views.

View from Summit

And of course almost any hike in the Cascades in the fall comes with edible rewards too.

Huckleberries!

Some of the most prolific bushes were the dark purple huckleberries growing around stumps in the cleared area by the parking lot (Ben and Laura picked a helmet full — another reason to wear/bring your helmet), but the lowbush blueberries carpeting the heather gullies were not to be missed either.

Denny has some more pictures, and a video of us snarfing berries

After a very short bit of moss-trap bushwhacking (when you are looking at a low-elevation forest in western Washington, that is not the ground, it is a carpet of moss draped over sticks and hidden creeks), we reached the real trail. It starts out as gentle, sweeping switchbacks through the woods, but as the miles tick on it gets impatiently steep and rocky (the plentiful huckleberries and blueberries up higher are a nice consolation). As soon as we got to the notch peeking over into Gothic Basin I found out what the trail was in such a hurry to get to! From there, we wandered among the water-worn rock and calm ponds of the basin a bit further to camp by Foggy Lake (despite the crowds we passed on the trail and in the lower part of the basin, we only shared Foggy Lake with one other group). The sandstone (yes, sandstone) lumps we camped on provided excellent cooking and lounging furniture as the sun set and we settled in for a quiet night.

Foggy Lake

The next morning, Foggy Lake was definitely living up to it’s name. From camp we wandered around the lake on the sandstone slabs, a tiny bit of snow, and then started up the talus (which turned out to be the good kind, mostly staying in one spot). The final hundred feet or so to the summit is where the class 3 stuff begins, which turns out to be wide ledges stepped about at shoulder height (or waist height for a normal person). This didn’t seem to be any trouble for anyone except for a small excitable dog out on her first hiking trip.

Gothic Peak Summit

With sun on the summit and the fog hiding the green river valleys below, the views featured shades of black rock and gray fog with patches of green trees and blue sky. The neighboring peaks, including Del Campo, faded in and out as we waited for the clouds to completely blow away, but we descended before that happened.

• Gothic Peak, 6213 ft

more pictures