We made our way across slabs then a long section of tedious boulders before ascending steeply to Stump Hollow.  At this point the Chopping Block was right in front of us.  I would have done it had Michael and Aidan been in to it.  Aidan insisted “no”.  He was probably right and both Michael and I conceded.  We decided not to get greedy.  The trip was already hugely successful; we’d just hike out today.

Stump Hollow is a dry and barren area consisting of not much more than slabs and heather.  We were lucky enough, however, to find some melting snow which we thirstily drank.  I should mention at this point that we only had half of our water bottles.  I can’t remember exactly where (I think Mount Fury), but my nozzle on my camel back had popped off and vanished in the rocks.  Later, when descending Mount Fury, I must have inadverdently placed Michael’s water bottle somewhere that I did not notice.  When we needed it; it was nowhere to be found.  So, I hiked out with no water but instead took advantage of streams like the one we found in Stump Hollow.  They were few and far between in this area though.  We entered the trees above the Barrier and eventually found a trail.  We were most thankful.  The Barrier frankly looks impossible to get through at this point; I wouldn’t even bother trying.  Instead, we continued to drop down to the magic number of 3400 feet where we’d start looking for a way down.  We did get off the trail during one section and spent some minutes bushwhacking around.  After a suggestion to get back on the Barrier crest, we headed up and found the trail again.  We continued to follow it down, thankful to be in the trees away from the sweltering sun, although it was still super hot in the forest.  We stopped to took a break and everyone stripped off their shirts to dry out.  We were soaked!  We ate the remainder of our food, mine anyway was finished.  Not long after we started we saw some flagging, then some more over the edge, apparently descending.  Our altimeters were reading high, we later discovered, about 300-400 feet.  They reported 3760 or so.  We decided to chance it and descend.  We rationalized that the flags were placed on the ascent and decided to try it out.  Except for one spot where we lost the trail and later regained it, it was quite followable.  When I say that, I mean “followable” in terms of the Barrier’s reputation and the Pickets in general.  The pine needled slopes were so steep that we opted to put on crampons for the majority of it.  All in all, it wasn’t too bad.  Near the bottom of the valley “U”, we took off crampons and made our way to the thundering sound of Terror Creek, still following a trail.  I was actually quite suprised (and delighted) about how quickly we got down to Terror Creek.

At the creek, we dropped packs and rested.  Aidan ran over to the creek for water as Michael and I chatted.  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Aidan fall in.  By the time, I was able to make my way around a fallen log to get to him, he’d already gone under, re-emerged, and pulled himself out absolutely soaked.  He cursed himself for picking the spot with the rapids to fetch water when there was a nice placid pool to the left.  At least he didn’t rushed down stream where fallen logs and boulders were waiting, but he was utterly drenched.  While Aidan dried out, I dunked my head a few times in the pool.  Aaaah!!!  So refreshing!  My enthusiasm finally was too much for Michael and, though he is loath to get himself wet, dunked his head satisfyingly into  the water as well.  We slung on our packs (Michael had fashioned garbage sack socks for Aidan) and made our way across the giant fallen tree to the other side where no trail and lots of devil’s club was awaiting us.  The coolness of Terror Creek gave way to more hot sweat as we thrashed through the brush looking for signs of a trail.  There were only faint hints.  Aidan led us up through a section with me following.  Not after too long, another scream of pain came from Michael and, knowing what it was, we all ran through the devils club and other brush nearly tripping down a steep embankment before stopping.  Michael was stung again and we all lay in the brush catching our breath.  We dragged ourselves back up the slopes looking for a reputed climbers trail.  No luck.  We traveled for a while seeing nothing, Michael was low, Aidan was in the middle, and I was high.  After a few minutes, I shouted, “Trail!” and the others excited came up.  We followed the thin climbers trail through muddy gullies and more steep pine needles making our towards Goodell Creek.  We lost the trail a few times and spread out again and rediscovered it.  I was up in front again and the trail suddenly started looking like what I remembered when Michael and I inadverdently followed it partially a year before (we’d missed the turn up to Terror Basin).  Sure enough, I arrived at the flat campsite area where the trail turnoff was.  We were finally at the end of all unknowns and on our way out.

The Goodell Trail seemed to go quickly.  We’d been begging for a long time, “can we just have some simple hiking!?” and finally we could enjoy simple walking.  Aidan and I took the opportunity to jump into Goodell Creek when the trail came within a few feet of the trail.  Michael went on up ahead with my mp3 player (he’d forgotten his).  The water was really cold but it felt so good.  The only downside was the current was pretty strong and the creek bed was “baby head” rocks that were difficult to walk on.  There wasn’t much complaining from us though.  The remainder of the hike out was uneventful except for two events:  One, getting a good look at the massive rock slide on the opposite side of the creek that occurred after the torrential fall and early winter raining.  The other occurred when we rounded another near the creek bank.  There was a section of the shore roped off with odd red flags.  There was someone lying down under a blanket with a wide-eyed stare on him.  Being a bit weirded out, Aidan and I snuck away whispering to ourselves, “Did you see that?  What the heck was that?”  Very strange.  A diverted trail near the end deposited us into Goodell campground which is near where we left Michael’s car.  There were other similar strange folk sitting quietly around these flags.  At least they let us pass in peace.

We met back up with Michael at the car and drove quickly back to Ross Lake trailhead to pick up my car.  Along the way we shouted, hooted, and hollered in our excitement having completed the trip!  Man, what a fantastic feeling.  At the Ross Lake parking lot, I discovered that my car’s battery was mysteriously dead.  I have no idea how this happened.  I didn’t have my lights on and none of the lights were toggled on.  It’s still a mystery.  I approached some other climbers at the other end of the parking lot to ask them for a jump.  It turned out to be the party of five, then four, then three!  Well, that was good luck.  It turned out that’d seen us descending the steep face on Mount Fury.  We, likewise, had seen them ascending east glacier route on Mount Fury.  After my car was started we all headed down to a burger joint in Marblemount.  Michael and Aidan though were set on Mexican by the time we arrived so we just got a snack instead.  I got a blackberry milkshake which hit the spot.  Later on, at this expensive place in Burlington called “El Cazador”, we got our Mexican food.  Unfortunately, it was some of the worst I’d ever had.  Bah, no matter!  Just sitting there enjoying each others company and reminiscing about the trip was enough.  Trip of a lifetime, fellas!

Michael has given this trip the just respect it deserves in a well thought-out and unique web page.  This is way beyond the typical trip report.  Check it out here.