After a nice dinner at Pizza Hut in Chilliwack, we drove back through the border (and I lost my passport – I still don’t know how), got on to the Mount Baker trail and headed for the Twin Lakes road and the Tomyhoi Peak trailhead. We were following the Beckey guide which mentioned 2.4 miles and 2460 feet of elevation once turning onto the road. Well, we passed that seeing no signs of a trailhead. Here we go again. “We’re going to have all our trailhead troubles rolled into one trip this weekend”, we thought. We continued on and soon were at the trailhead for Tommyhoi Lake, Gold Run Pass, and Yellow Aster Butte, well beyond where Beckey’s book described and the trailhead that I’d remembered from my infamous trip to American Border Peak. We decided to at least pull over and throw the bags down and get some sleep and then try to find the trailhead by light in the morning.

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We awoke to a clear morning, though we had big dropplets of dew all over our bags. This morning was significantly colder than previous summer mornings. Fall is on the way. We calculated the distance to the rumored trailhead in reverse, hopped in the car, and headed out. At the exact elevation, we saw an abandoned road that turned into a trail. Our mileage, however, looked to be a little off. With self-doubts magnified after the previous day’s difficulties, we still decided to try it. The trail soon constricted down to a small path and then became enveloped in brush, wet brush at that. I took the lead blasting through wet blueberries, ferns, low-growing evergreens, and other typical Cascadian foliage. After twenty minutes of this, I stopped just before a set of soaking bushes, reluctant to go on. Michael expressed his doubts. I didn’t want to turn around and try yet another trail. Instead of giving up, we pressed on and vowed to make it to old growth and out of the brush within 10 minutes or call it a day. I did feel confident that this trail would lead us somewhere. After all, due to our mileage calculations and the fact that we were trending east a good bit, meant that we must at least be between the desired trail and the Gold Run Pass trail. If anything, this trail ought to lead us somewhere. So, we would continue on or die in the process.

Well, within a minute we were indeed in old growth forest that started climbing steeply. The trail was easily travelled. We learned later that this route has been abandoned (duh) and all trails start at the Gold Run Pass trailhead. We pressed on, only losing the trail once in a section ripe with many “green spirits”. Back on a solid trail in deep forest and after passing a few small creeks we suddenly emerged onto a heather meadow with small ponds. At this point we knew we were on the right track. Maybe we could indeed salvage a good weekend after this incredibly bumpy start and our climb off Tomyhoi would not be a “Tommy Boy”. We continued on passing a rocky cliff on the right and ascending steeply until we emerged onto the lovely Yellow Aster meadows. Across the vast expanse to the northeast, we could see the bulk of American Border Peak and straight ahead of us, we saw Tomyhoi. Behind us, the views are expansive. You can see Mount Baker and Mount Shuksan in all their alpine glory. This is a great spot to just hike to, perhaps stay the night, and then head back. There were people up here doing just that – we saw three tents scattered around.

A trail before us wended its way steeply up the base of Tomyhoi for about 400 feet. The slopes then became more gentle. The Tomyhoi massif is very large and resembles a Colorado Peak in some ways. It was a nice change of pace – for once we weren’t hauling a rope, gear, shoes, helmets, and so on. Our day packs were very light, holding a little more than food, water, and a jacket. As we climbed higher, the views opened up even more. We could see to the Cheam range in Canada and southward to the Pickets where we’d been three weeks earlier. The trail meandered along and we passed a large flock of ptarmigans. Careful counting revealed no less than eight around the trail. Higher up, we had to drop down the first and most significant notch. We dropped perhaps 300 feet then climbed steeply up to slopes that were more broken and covered with scree. The trail continued to be in great shape. Below, we were able spot at least two other climbers on the mountain. We could see the summit in the distance. As we followed the trail up to the ridge, we encountered a party of three who gave us route information. We couldn’t stay on the ridge crest since it cliffed out. Instead, we’d need to climb along the top of the bergeschrund. Well, we had no ice axes or crampons. We’d have to see how this would work out.

Climbing along the bergeschrund was actually tricky without crampons or ice axes. It would have been easy just to scamper along the crest, but we had to scoot and stem our way along with rock on the left side and snow on the right side with a hole in the middle. It wasn’t too hard, just more annoying knowing that without the gear it was so much slower. The end of the snow scrambling featured a steep finish to level snow. There were big cups in the snow which made it much easier than where we’d just come from. Continuing to stem on rock and snow got us to the top without incident. Here we could get back up on rock and scramble up to the ridge 40 feet above. We cut along the back (left) side of the ridge on a nice trail along a ledge to another notch. An easy downclimb got us to the base of the final scramble. It looked steep but turned out to be easy 3rd class scrambling (maybe 4th if you’re using the Colorado standard – OK, enough jabs). We then were looking for a fifty foot gable. “Just what exactly is a ‘gable’?”, we asked. We knew it had something to do with a house (siting “The House of the Seven Gables”) but were a little embarassed that we didn’t know. Well, it turns out we correctly identified it. We travelled along the right side of a small formation that resembled a long roof. In fact, the definition of a gable is: “n. the vertical triangular end of a building from cornice or eaves to ridge.” And that’s the story of how we learned the meaning of “gable”. Above the gable, at a prominent ledge, we got on the ridge crest and scrambled easy slopes to the top.

We enjoyed great views around. To the rugged beauty of the North Cascades to the south to the logging roads and clear cuts of British Columbia to the north. We could see our original objective, Mount Rexford and the Nesakwatch Spires, in the distance. I think this view made Michael more excited about them. Perhaps we can hit this area in October if we’re lucky enough to get a spell of Indian Summer the way we did last year on West McMillan Spire. After a long lounge on the summit, we headed down. We were debating which way to go on the return. We could do a little extra and hike out Yellow Aster Butte trail to the trail head that we slept at and hitchhike down to our car below. We did see a trail that no doubt led there so we decided to give it a try. We were moving pretty fast and still had a good amount of daylight. We decided to throw in a quick hike up Yellow Aster Butte as well, which gave us good views down into Tomyhoi Lake. The return trip along the trail the runs into the main trail just below Gold Run Pass was a delight. The trail is a fun and gentle path along open slopes affording excellend views the entire way. When we arrived at the junction, we decided to run up real quick to Gold Run Pass. Heck, why not throw in a couple more hundred feet of elevation! It was all just for another view! On the way down, we stopped and chomped on some excellent huckleberries. Some fishermen passed us along the way and we struck up a conversation. They kindly offered to give us a ride back to our car. The hike out was uneventful other than it was extremely FAST. Those fishermen could move! Though travelling at top speed, I got left behind by about a minute or two. We enjoyed a bumpy ride in the back of a pickup down to the abandoned “Keep Cool” trailhead where our car was parked.

Fortunately, the bugs weren’t nearly as bad here, though they were still around.  We headed up and had our first view of Mount Larrabee and neighboring peaks in no time.  At the first little pass, which is unnamed, I think, the trail descended a bit then began ascending again and switchbacking to Low Pass.

After Low Pass, you traverse upwards maybe 100 or 200 more feet to High Pass.  At High Pass, you’re essentially at the base of Mount Larrabbee.  There are some faint trails leading up the slopes, which look quite Colorado-esque in nature – much scree.  Our route descended into the basin near the Garret Mine.  We dropped down and took a break at the mine, which was mostly submerged in water.  At this point the trail ended and we wouldn’t see trail again for a long time.  We began descending further down into the valley through grassy talus and then traversed northward allong the slopes of the Border Peaks.  Then, we were at the edge of the forest, which was formed by a nasty avalanche path featuring fresh dirt and broken trees.  Getting through this was a hassle, but nothing compared to what was to come.  We began our long bushwack through the forest.  Alas, I have now had my official introduction to North Cascade bushwhacking, and I must say that all the reading I did not fully prepare me.  First of all, the terrain was quite treacherous:  steep, covered in loose pine needles and lots of brush.  On top of that, the kamikaze bugs were back in full force biting and stinging.

The only way to effectively deal with the bugs was to keep moving.  However, continual movement and bushwacking sort of mutally exclude each other, for if you move to fast you risk falling and perhaps injuring yourself.  So, we made the best of a heinous situation.  On top of all this delight, the pines were obviously sapping – the leaves of the brush were all coated with sap which left our hands covered in the maple syrup stuff as we used the brush to balance ourselves.  Of course, that’s when they weren’t covered in thorns.  Fortunately, there was no Devil’s Club thrown in the mix.  I can only imagine the pleasantries of that.  Anyway, once we were through the forest, we exited into what I thought was clear tundra.  However, it was time for the slide alder to take over.  This stuff is truly treacherous.  There was a creek with a small ravine running down the mountain and trying to cross this damn thing was a true ordeal in patience and persistence.  The rubbery alder bent so much under our weight that it was hard to remain balanced.  It was so thick that I lost track of the ground more than once and ended up essentially climbing through the alder while 5-10 feet up in the air above the ravine.  Not good. 

We decided that we should get above this crap.  Going up against slide alder might even be more miserable because it points downhill like pikes.   To spare any more horror stories, I will only say that we arrived at our campsite with bloody blotches on us and profusely drenched from sweat.  Our campsite wasn’t much to write home about – right in the middle of a bunch of thick Cascade weeds!  Well, they were really flowers and other nice plants, but I wasn’t feeling too friendly towards them.  I had to laugh to myself when imagining various hikers in Colorado who are extraordinarily careful to not camp on the tundra.  I don’t think you could take out this Cascade stuff with napalm.

Dan had seen a bear up here in years past (he’s attempted the peak once before) and it’s easy to see why:  a vast supply of blueberries and huckleberries.  I was too tired, however, to worry about bears too much.  We turned in after a basic dinner and I was out like a light bulb.  Sleeping on the foliage was actually quite comfortable, most springy!

The following morning was a bit cloudy.  A good bit of dew had fallen.  Dan had some morning coffee and we were finally off.  We were going to climb up a gully part way then cut over into the trees.  Just climbing up the gully was a challenge in and of itself.  I ended up in a ravine that seemed to get deeper in deeper.  Finally, I used a log to climb out.  The main gully was, at first, great.  It was steep but the rock was totally solid and there lots of ledges and shelves.  I could fly up this type of rock.  Of course, it didn’t last.  We had to take the left hand gully, when it branched, for the right one was too steep.  The left gully was totally loose and miserable.  It was a total pain climbing up.  Finally, we exited to the left and were in the trees.  At last, we were in reasonably solid ground.  Sure it was steep and there was dew on the ground and the pine needles were loose, but at least if you fell, you weren’t going to go tumbling all the way down.  Relative difficulties were changing fast for me on this trip.

We broke out of treeline and began climbing pleasant (sic) scree and talus to the ridge saddle between American Border and Mount Larrabee.  At the saddle, we had great views of Mount Slesse right in front of us.  There were lots of clouds swirling though and most of the other peaks were completely shrouded.  Tommyhoi, in the opposite direction, opened up only occasionally, though we could see all the way down to the lake no problem.  We made our way up the ridge which is easy for a while, then dropped down into some steep slopes in order to arrive at a ridge on the opposite side of the face.  This slope was quite treacherous as it featured hard, solid rock with lots of scree acting like ball bearings under your feet.  Needless to say, it wasn’t very pleasant.  Eventually, we arrived at the ridge which was steep and loose itself.  We could see the remainder of the route which looked very dangerous to me, especially given the nature of the rock.  This was worse that South Maroon back in Colorado…well, maybe not worse but quite comparable.  Every other hold that I would grab would pop out completely.  It looked solid, but it wasn’t.  American Border Peaks is roughly like a South Maroon Peak…multiplied times two in steepness and distance.

We finally made our way up the ridge and around some towers and traversed a sloping area that featured a vertical cliff below us.  (Mental note:  don’t slip here).  One of the cruxes of the climbs, however, was still filled with snow and hence featured a short, but quite steep snow climb…and we didn’t have crampons.  Well, that was enough for me.  I just wanted to get off this mountain though I would have kept going if Dan had wanted to.  He was concerned about the time.  It was only 11:00, but we had a long hike out.  We decided to turn around.  We then took out the rope and decided to rappel at every chance we got.  It was so nice to rappel and not have to worry about foodholds, handholds, etc.  We rappelled a grand total of 6 times, I believe.  We managed to stay a lot higher on the peak before hitting the ridge, which is probably a good thing to do when climbing the peak – stay on the ridge until a rope is necessary, then carefully traverse across the face to the next ridge.  Finally, we were back at the saddle.

Our camp was a long long way below us and the lake was even further than that.  I mention the lake because our plan was to avoid the nasty bushwhack and (bushwhack) down to the lake and take trail out, then hike the road back up to the Jeep.  That was a lot more elevation, but at least we wouldn’t have to deal with the nasty brush.  Some of the downclimb was quite steep so we rappelled through the trees.  Eventually, we were back at the ravine near our camp.  We came through an excellent huckleberry patch and took some time to eat a little.  I don’t exaggerate when I say these were the best berries I’ve ever put in my mouth.  And that’s not due to hunger or anything; these berries were absolutely perfect and totally bursting with tangy flavor.  Man, I might just have to come up here to pick a bunch of berries some time.  It didn’t take me long to pack up when we got back to camp.  Dan, however, had brought a lot of stuff in his big ole honkin’ pack, poor guy.  We were finally ready then headed down. 

A couple of hundred feet below our campsite, we found a spot that looks to be the best place to camp.  It was right on the edge of the forest on level ground, not too thick, with a water source nearby.

Continuing down, the bushwack down to the lake was nothing compared to the one yesterday, although I did get stung on the leg by a hornet.  Joy.  I intently kept an eye on my altimeter as we descended and was pleased to see we were making good time.  Finally, we were at the last bushwhack to the lake.  The foliage was over our heads in some spots.  Incredible.  Standing on the shores of the lake, however, was a great reward.  At last, there was open space and the view was awesome.  Although we couldn’t see very far due to the clouds, the hulking rock wall on Tommyhoi on the opposite side of the lake featured a couple of nice, tall, thin waterfalls coming off.  This looked to be a set on the Lord of the Rings or something.  It was quite fantastic.

Even though we were at the lake, we weren’t out of it yet.  We had to cross at least three different log jams before arriving at the head of the lake where we finally spotted the trail.  Before heading out, we replenished our water supplies and drank our fill.  Even though the trail seems to be losing the battle with the brush, it was nice to have trail at least.  At a small campground a couple hundred yards upstream, we had to scout around to find the trail; it was well hidden.  After taking a wrong branch, we found it.  From here on out, it was trail all the way.

We made quick time out.  There was one section that was absolutely awesome:  a very flat green meadow with these white, ball-shaped flowers on high stalks.  The low, misty clouds really made the view quite ethereal.  It was as if the flowers were floating in the air.

We began the switchbacks up to Gold Run Pass.  I was watching my altimeter again and noted our progress.  Having the altimeter for this reason really helps out psychologically, I think.  When you don’t know how much further you have to go, the steps and switchbacks can seem endless.  We arrived over the pass with slightly better views on the other side but everything was still socked in.  Pretty soon, we realized we weren’t going to make it back to the road before dark.  After a while we were engulfed in darkness and had to use our headlamps.  Thank goodness for headlamps otherwise we’d be spending the night in the forest.  It was great getting back to the trailhead.  We were mentally prepared for the 1,600 foot march up the road to the Jeep and we drank our remaining water, dropped our packs and headed up.

We both felt good hiking at first.  Since it was dark, we marched pretty fast, making good time up the long road.  The first switchback couldn’t come fast enough though and it was at this first switchback that both Dan and I tanked.  Within a span of 15 minutes maybe, I became tired like never before.  Sitting at the switchback, I was literally having a hard time holding my head up.  I had to balance my head on the handle of my trekking pole to keep from toppling over.  I knew if I were to lay on the ground that I would be out cold, though I was so tempted.  I actually contemplated the thought of a night in a ditch.  Each switchback (there were six) was grueling.  It was pitch black, and there was a bit of mist falling on us now.  We took a rest at every switchback and found somewhere to sit, even if it were a mound of dirt.  Every time I sat, I felt as if I was going to pass out.  I had counted the switchbacks as we were driving up and I knew we were on our last one finally.  When I saw the sign for Twin Lakes, I got a boost of energy from somewhere.  Dan also mentioned that he had Cokes in the Jeep.  That sounded like liquid gold at the time!  The Jeep was still parked a good distance away, but a least we didn’t have to go up anymore.  I continued on in front of Dan and finally made it to the Jeep.  I tore into a Coke and drank my fill although Dan was too tired.  He was even too exhausted to drive.  I drove us out and after a long drive on a bumpy road we made it to the Mount Baker highway.  Twenty minutes on this road though and I was barely able to see straight.  I started seeing double vision and was having less and less success in controlling it.  So, we pulled over; I could not physically continue.  Dan had slept a bit and managed to go a little further, just close enough to get cell range was what he wanted.  We didn’t make it and before long he couldn’t see straight.  We pulled in to a gas station after minute and fell asleep.  After 30 minutes or so, I heard Dan talking.  We started again.  We finally got into cell phone range, called, and made it back to Dan’s house where I graciously accepted a  shower and bed.  I drove home the next day thinking I wouldn’t be able to make it to work.  I felt pretty good, most surprisingly, and made it in to work around 10.