June 2018 – Ingalls Peak, Washington

So when Tyler suggested we go climb Ingalls peak, my first question was “is this where you see the baby goats?!” I’m not going to lie, that truly was my main priority (what can I say, I’m a sucker for animals in the wild). I packed up my brand new puffy and mountaineering boots, my pack weighed in at 28 pounds, and we headed out. The stoke was not high with me on the way. I was nervous about my first alpine trip- nervous about snow travel, intimidated by the ice axe I didn’t know how to use, and exhausted from working 11 days in a row. Plus, I’m out of shape. Hiking is hard. We began our adventure and what do I see? Up on the ridge- a shaggy white blob! The higher up we hike, the clearer his goaty shape became.

Once we reached the snow, I got a mini lesson on how I should be stepping and on how to hold my ice ax. A few steps later, my shin is stinging- I’ve stepped through the snow, have one leg knee deep in snow, and can’t get out. Next lesson from my husband? Snow melts faster around rocks-noted. Thanks for the advance warning.

We finally pick a spot to set up camp. We picked this little island of rock amidst the snow. It looked nice and protected from the wind- a little ledge the perfect size for two bivvies, complete with a taller ledge above it and a little rock wall along the edge of our ledge. We even had a tree with a low hanging branch as our door! (And yes, this is relevant to my story).

We carry on towards our peak, and what do I see from a hundred feet away?! Two goats! not one, but two! But in the sense of alpine urgency, I am not allowed to stop to look according to my climbing partner. I’m a bit irritated.

Anyways, we’ll skip up to the part where we’re almost to the East Ridge and have to cross the big snow field. The sun is shining and it’s so warm I’m in short sleeves. I start kicking my first steps. I can do this, this is easy! Well, it’s not as hard as I had worried about. And then I look up. Above is a big snow couloir that we have to make it too. In my mind, it’s basically a vertical wall that I have to crush, except I’m slipping and sliding in my mountaineer boots. We decided to transition to the rock sooner than the technical route starts because the snow got a bit too thin for our liking- we were worried about falling through the snow into a moat.

Tyler is now on the rock on a tiny ledge just big enough for himself. He reaches his hand out for mine and tells me to take a big step and stand on his feet. I don’t fully comprehend what is happening. And then I see the moat he’s wanting me to step over. He wants me to take a 1-2 foot step over a moat that we can’t see the bottom of, onto a one person ledge. I don’t want to move but Tyler is coaxing me over. So I take that big trust step and cue the panic. I can feel this crushing wave overwhelming me and I can’t think clearly. Tyler wants me to move. He needs me to get off his feet so he can move. I shove my hand into the rock. My hand is so tightly jammed into this wall that I’m losing feeling. I’m crying. I’m going to fall into a hole and die. I’m going to die and Tyler didn’t even let me look at the baby goat! (True thought, priorities, I know.) I’m death gripping Tyler’s arm and finally make a big step to a big ledge. Safe. Time to breathe again. The wave starts to disappear and my heart stops pounding.

We continue on our adventure. As Tyler heads off, I remind him to shout down once he places his first piece. But I don’t hear anything. Is it the wind? Has Tyler placed any pieces? Is my husband secure? I hear Tyler yell that it is my turn- I’m on belay. As I start the first pitch, I realize that there is not really much protection placed. The terrain is easy to navigate and if I weren’t so spooked from the moat, I wouldn’t have thought twice about it. When I meet back up with Tyler, he gives me a quick hug and reminds me to focus on my climbing. On the next pitch, the familiarity of fitting my hand into granite walls and finding tiny nubbins for my toes starts to calm me. I look around and we’re the only people here. We’re surrounded by these glorious mountain ranges, being kissed by the warm sun, and truly living our full potential.

We finish the climb and I am mystified. I have never been so remote, so in touch with nature. We hike back to camp, past marmots sneaking across the path into the snow. We get back to camp, exhausted but glorified. I experience my first mountain house meal, and man, I can’t remember if I’ve ever had anything so delicious and warm. After dinner, I fall asleep in my bivvy, too exhausted to care that the clouds are covering the stars.
And then I wake up. My face is wet. The sky is spewing rain down at me. I wonder why I am here. Today has been a whirlwind of emotions. I’m both physically and mentally drained and now I can’t sleep. I’m thankful that Tyler gave me the bivvy with the rain cover for my head, but I’m miserable. Somehow I fall asleep again. And when I wake up, the night sky has removed its blankets of clouds and I’m rewarded with the most glorious view of the stars. I look for Cassiopeia and the dippers and count a few shooting stars before drifting off to sleep.
I wake up to Tyler whispering “Jess, Jess. Wake up.” And I’m irritated. We spent half the night awake in the rainstorm and when I finally fall asleep, Tyler is awaking me. “Jess, wake up. Look up” and finally I do. I look up at that ledge making a wall beside me and see a mountain goat standing tall and majestic in full Simba stance.

I hear some scraping and turn my head. We’re surrounded by not one goat, but 7 beautiful but scruffed up creatures. I gasp when I realize that behind two of the larger ones are tiny kids. I don’t know how long we sat in our sleeping bags watching the older goats watch us. I was in awe of them, but also incredibly wary because from this close up, I could see exactly how long and strong their horns were. The goats seemed to realize that we weren’t going to hurt their kids, and started moving in closer and closer. We’re now only separated by the thin 6 inch wall of rocks that had seemed so inviting the earlier day. Now all we could think of is if we moved and sent a rock tumbling, the goats might think of this as an act of war. After at least 30-60 minutes the goats seemed to have their fill of us and departed. We’re relieved at this point and quickly tear down camp. When we’re getting ready to hike out, I turn to see Tyler starting to urinate. Out of no where, all 7 goats appear back at camp and start charging towards that salty substance. We take off running in the snow, breathless, laughing, amazed at what we just witnessed. As we continue hiking, Tyler looks at me and asks “did you ever think you’d get tired of seeing goats?” No, dear. I did not.

We hike to the South Ridge of Ingalls and the goal is for me to take my turn leading! As we start racking up to climb again, it starts snowing. I start leading the pitch and the snow is swirling around me as I place my cams and nuts for protection. My hands are cold. There is snow in my face. And I’m trying to hand jam with gloves on. It doesn’t work very well. Even though I know I can climb something this easy, it is difficult to be confident with my route finding given the conditions. I try to hide behind a rock to belay Tyler up to join me. As Tyler reaches me at top of the first pitch, the wind is swirling so much that it’s getting harder to see. I joke that I’m so cold I don’t even want to climb. To my surprise, he asks me if I want to bail and return to the calmer, less snowy ground. We do. As we start to hike out, he high fives me and congratulates me. This is his first time climbing when it’s snowing and I’ve had all the alpine experiences bundled into one very exciting introduction to alpine.