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Wednesday, December 31, 2025
Griswold Pass - Tuber Hill, Glacier View, Baryon, Muon, Meson & Lepton, September 2024
Finally made the journey out to Griswold Pass for a few days of exquisite alpine rambling! Officially part of the South Chilcotin Ranges, bound by the Lillooet River Valley to the south and the Nemaiah Valley (almost) far to the north, this is an incredibly remote area of pristine alpine beauty. The pass itself is situated among a cluster of peaks toward the headwaters of the Bridge River Valley, adjacent to the mighty Lillooet Icefield, and serves as an excellent base camp for adventures further afield. Access to the zone is by way of the Lillooet River FSR, Hurley River FSR, and Bridge River FSR, for a whopping ~110 kilometres of travel over unpaved roads and about six hours from my home in North Vancouver. The trailhead lies a few paces from a small cabin tucked near the end of the road, some 60 kilometres from the nearest "town," assuming the community of Goldbridge qualifies for such a distinction. Aside from that, there is literally nothing but a mind-boggling wilderness of peaks, valleys, and icefields that seem to go on forever. It goes without saying that this place truly feels like the back of beyond, a big part of why I'd wanted to visit ever since first learning of it some years back.
Wes and I had been discussing a trip out to Griswold Pass for some time and finally settled on making it happen over the Labour Day long weekend. We tossed around a few ideas for peaks to hike-something that would provide a good introduction to the area-and eventually settled on the "Subatomic Peaks" of Baryon, Meson, Muon, and Lepton, leaving Neutrino for another time perhaps. We also considered the pass's namesake, Griswold Peak, if time allowed, in addition to Tuber Hill and Glacier View Peak, both of which are easily bagged on the hike to camp at Griswold Pass proper. Proud to say we succeeded on all of the above except Griswold Peak, which would probably have been the least interesting of the lot anyway. Photos for this trip are organised by day and viewable by clicking the following links:
With Wes, Gabby, and Ross having departed the afternoon prior, Gina and I set out from North Vancouver on a fine September morning for the long drive up and over Railroad Pass toward the confluence of the Hurley and Bridge Rivers. Familiar territory for me, after so many peak-bagging trips in the Goldbridge area over the years. We turned left onto the Bridge River FSR, passed the spur used to access Mount Vayu almost 15 years ago now, and finally entered a new frontier. Many dusty kilometres of otherwise good travel brought us to the bridge over the river, followed by several more into the headwaters area, where the road proceeds a short distance northward into a tributary valley. A bit overgrown with water bars toward the end, but nothing the average SUV couldn't handle. I parked near a few other cars, one likely belonging to Ross, just steps from the cabin.
There's a minor fork in the road where we parked, the lower leading to the cabin and the upper directly to the flagged trail. Unaware of this, we decided to check out the cabin first before continuing beyond it toward a raging creek flowing down from above. We turned up alongside the creek and bushwhacked a short distance to intersect the trail as it climbed steeply through forest. Following the edge of a large ravine over loose volcanic gravel and pumice, we soon popped out above treeline and entered a beautiful meadow with views to infinity. Proceeding northward, we gained a broad saddle with several lakes and flat gravelly spots suitable for camp. We stopped to set up our tents for the night before embarking on a late-afternoon hike to nearby Tuber Hill and Glacier View Peak. An easy hike up talus led to the rounded summit of Tuber Hill before continuing on to the main course-Glacier View. As the name suggests, there's an outstanding view of the mighty Bridge Glacier from the summit, one of the largest lobes emanating from the Lillooet Icefield directly west of us. Plenty of other glaciers were on display as well, along with a good look toward Griswold Pass, where we'd be headed next.
We enjoyed a leisurely start the next morning, traversing slightly rightward from our camp saddle into Nichols Creek Valley. Hoping to avoid losing more elevation than necessary, we stayed well left of the main creek drainage by contouring along the west side of the valley over mostly heather, steering clear of the large talus slopes above. We were forced to skirt around the toe of at least one sizable talus wash before resuming our otherwise pleasant trek toward Griswold Pass, where we expected to rendezvous with the rest of our party. Upon reaching a pass-like area dotted with numerous lakes, with a large lateral moraine blocking our view northward, we decided to stop and set up our tents for the night. We were in the general area of the pass and figured there was nothing but talus ahead, so we might as well stop where pitching tents was easy. No sign of Wes and company, and not really in the mood to go searching at that point either.
With our tents set up along the shore of yet another beautiful alpine lake, we turned our attention to the next objective. Immediately to the west, some 1,700 feet directly above camp, stood Baryon Peak. Recharged after a bite to eat and a short break, Gina and I angled upward below the east face, aiming for the edge of a moraine we hoped would deliver us near the peak's North Ridge for the final ascent. As we gained elevation, it quickly became apparent that this moraine was unlike anything I'd seen before-part lateral moraine, part terminal moraine-forming a large circular enclosure with additional lakes inside and, more importantly, wide sandy flats where a couple of tents glistened in the bright sunlight. I let out a loud "cooee," and the response confirmed it was indeed Wes and party camped below. With that settled, it was back to the task at hand, weaving around wide ledges and blocks to gain the ridge crest. Turning left, we scrambled over blocky terrain along a gradually sharpening ridge to finally reach the summit. Holy mole-what a view! Unknown peaks and glaciers (to me) stretched in all directions, save for the familiar subatomics nearby. Absolutely stunning.
Call it ego, poor judgement, or plain stupidity, but I made a bad call convincing Gina that descending the West Face directly from the summit would be faster and more pleasant than retracing our ascent. The upper half was fine enough-typical talus travel-but unseen from above were cliffs that had to be negotiated, followed by runnelled walls of hardened mud guarding the final 100 feet above the ice. Descending this absolutely sucked, and it was with great relief that we finally reached the glacier proper. That discomfort quickly faded as we descended the glacier, weaving around meltwater channels and peering with wonder into the countless moulins scattered across its surface. We stepped off the glacier near its snout and hiked over glacial till and talus toward where we'd seen the tents earlier. The tents were there, but no humans-likely out bagging a peak somewhere. Onward to our camp we went, annoyingly a good kilometre as the crow flies from where the others were camped. Another blissful night under the stars followed, with eager anticipation for whatever adventures the next day would bring.
We were moving shortly after sunrise, returning to the others' camp before continuing as a group. Retracing our steps from the previous afternoon, we gained the toe of the glacier and made an ascending traverse across the ice to a saddle between Meson Peak and Muon Mountain. Topographic maps show this saddle as fully glaciated, essentially connecting two main lobes of the glacier into one. Unfortunately, this is no longer the case, as we soon left the ice behind and kicked up loose glacial till and talus onto the crest. An easy scramble northward brought us to our first peak of the day-Meson. We lingered to enjoy the stellar views before dropping back to the saddle and continuing toward Muon. From there, we followed the edge of the western glacier lobe toward the peak ahead, contouring left to avoid a steep buttress-like feature before turning upward for more easy scrambling to the summit. Nearly on the edge of the Lillooet Icefield now, the views only improved.
After feasting our eyes on the spectacle around us, we moved on, descending steeply down the South Ridge to the head of the main glacier, with a deep turquoise glacial lake providing a dramatic backdrop. Back on the ice, we contoured along the lake's edge, stopping frequently for photos and otherwise entranced by the otherworldly scenery that was entirely ours. We ascended mostly low-angled ice to a prominent saddle between Muon and Lepton, then finished via the Southwest Ridge to gain Lepton's summit. Still no end to the views, and now finally able to peer over the divide toward Nichols Creek Valley and the dry peaks straddling the South Chilcotin Provincial Park boundary beyond. After a long break on top, we continued our loop by descending Lepton's North Ridge toward the saddle between it and Baryon. With the others still needing to finish Baryon, Gina and I bid our comrades adieu and followed an aesthetic snow arete down onto the glacier, which we followed back to the snout as we had the previous day.
We crawled back into camp after about 9.5 hours on the move, tired but thoroughly satisfied with what we'd accomplished-not just that day, but the days prior as well. We briefly considered relocating camp to share the final evening with the rest of the party, but it felt like too much work. Besides, Wes paid us a visit and shared the last of his hooch before turning in for the night. We regrouped at our camp the following morning and headed out together at a leisurely 9 a.m., reaching the trailhead about 3.5 hours later. In the end, Griswold Pass delivered exactly what I'd hoped for and then some: vast, remote terrain, engaging scrambles, and a sense of space that's becoming increasingly rare. The Subatomic Peaks proved to be an ideal introduction to the area, offering varied routes, satisfying glacier travel, and nonstop views in every direction. While there are plenty of objectives left unfinished-Griswold Peak among them-that only adds to the appeal. This is the kind of place that stays with you long after the dust has settled and the packs are unpacked, and one I know I'll be drawn back to again.
Made the most of a marginal weather day in late August rambling about a corner of the North Cascades I affectionately refer to as "Bakerland". As my informal name suggests, this is the area around Mount Baker and Mount Shuksan including the peaks and tributary valleys immediately north of Nooksack River Valley. Served by Highway 542, the lifeblood of Mount Baker Ski Area and which literally dead ends in the aptly named Artist Point parking lot just beyond, this zone has been my go-to for year-round outdoor adventures for ages. Why? Because the scenery is stunning, among the finest in the Washington Cascades with peaks, glaciers and deep river valleys in all directions, the ski touring is superb, wilderness access couldn't get any better and as of circa 2017 it's practically in my back yard!
For this latest installment in said back yard, I decided on an objective that caught my eye several years ago from the lookout on nearby Winchester Mountain - Goat Mountain. The peak is comprised of two main summits: the lower West Peak being served by a maintained trail starting from NF 32. My plan was for a twofer by taking this trail up and over West, then down to the saddle between it and the main peak and finishing via the West Ridge to the true summit. I'd then return via a steep cross-country traverse across heather and grass on the south side of the peak to intersect the trail where it ascends the South Spur of West somewhere above treeline. This was all fine and dandy despite the approximately 5000 ft of gain and 10 kilometers round-trip to do so, but what I didn't consider in my plan was the earlier than predicted arrival of rain.
With an 8 am start, I raced up the trail and out of the forest only to see ominous dark clouds advancing from the northwest. Hmm...best to hurry along! Onwards up the South Spur for a bit before traversing the southwest-facing slopes and then along the final summit ridge with just a smidge of scrambling at the end to reach the top. A cold wind was blowing with the cloud ceiling already dropping on the higher peaks. Views still excellent and all-the-more dramatic thanks to the layered bands of atmospheric waves forming around me - north to the Border Peaks and Larrabee, south towards in-your-face Sefrit and Shuksan with Baker just beyond lording over the Nooksack River Valley, northeast towards the BC Cascades with Slesse, Rexford and company, and finally a marvelous view looking up Ruth Creek Valley with the serrated spires of the Picket Range still bathed in sunshine far to the east! And then it started to rain.
Hunkered down for a few minutes thinking perhaps it was just a passing shower, but no such luck. Abandoned my designs on the main summit, mainly because I don't much care for the slip 'n slide of wet, steep heather, and headed back to the trailhead with my tail between my legs. Back by 2 pm, and naturally the rain had stopped by then. With a few hours to burn, I drove on up to Artist Point for a short hike to Table Mountain. Previously been up it, but that was in the winter many moons ago. The dusk descent from the summit directly to Bagley Lakes marked the culmination of a ripper day shredding laps out by Coleman Pinnacle! Alas, there'd be no shredding this time, just the untimely return of rain which shooed me off the summit for the second time that day. Back to the trailhead, whereupon surprise! it ceased raining again. And so over to Huntoon Point I go for no other reason that it being a named summit not 5-minutes from the parking lot. Got to the top, at which point yup, you guessed it, the rain returned. Back to the parking lot one final time and having run out of day and silly peaks to tag and especially my patience with the unpredictable weather, I did what I should have done hours ago and drove home!
Mount David is the highest mountain on the famed Poet's Ridge in Glacier Peak Wilderness. From Longfellow Mountain to the west, up and over Whittier Peak, Mount Jonathon and culminating with David on the east end, this ~6.2-kilometer-long ridge forms the divide between the Indian Creek Valley to the north and Cougar Creek Valley to the south. It stands directly south of Glacier Peak and the Dakobed Range, for me one of the scenic climaxes of the Washington Cascades. A fire lookout once graced the craggy summit where now just the outhouse "grotto" remains. A maintained trail starting from the White River Trailhead leads for some 5,800 feet over about 11 kilometers directly to the top and features a nice hike along a raging river, waterfalls, breathtaking ridge walking and of course outstanding 360-degree summit views with Glacier peak crowing it all! With all that in mind including fond memories of past trips in the area - Clark Mountain (x2) and the Dakobed Traverse - I set my sights on this as my next mini-escapade south of the 49th!
Drove up the afternoon prior, stopping to check out Deception Fallsdfallsdfallsdfalls
along the way as doing so has somehow eluded me all these years, before pulling into one of the campgrounds situated along the White River for the night. The sky was tinged with a distinctive orange hue, obviously thanks to forest fires burning somewhere nearby. This was punctuated by the occasional clap of thunder overhead and served as a reminder that the forecast for the next several days was for afternoon thunderstorms. Raised the camper pop-top and turned in early hoping to get a jump on whatever weather instabilities were in the offing. Completed the short drive to the trailhead the following morning and set out across the footbridge spanning White River before turning left on the Mount David Trail. South along the river for ~1.5 kilometers before turning up for a steep grind to reach a low point on David's long SE Ridge. Tight switchbacks towards the top really got the blood pumping with trees beginning to thin and allowing for nice views overlooking White River Valley and peaks beyond.
The trail now continues along and just below the crest, following the path of least resistance by weaving right or left around the occasional crag otherwise blocking the way. Higher up, the trail makes a rising traverse into a large talus basin right of the crest before turning back up to regain the ridge. Repeated this pattern once more before completing the final bit now along the south and west sides of the peak to finally reach the summit. As expected, haze and smoke obscured the view on this day, as did the clouds which were beginning to accumulate on the neighboring mountaintops. Nonetheless, still able to clearly make out the entirety of Poet's Ridge to Whittier looking west with a blanket of marine clouds obscuring the lowlands beyond. Also, Glacier Peak, Tenpeak Mountain and the rest of the Dakobed Range showing up nicely to the north, and then finally a great albeit hazy view overlooking the SE Ridge with Lake Wenatchee peeking in the distance.
Spent about 35 minutes on top; located and briefly considered utilizing the "facilities" up there but ultimately decided against it - best to wait for the "can" down at the trailhead. Headed back the way I came, sans thunder or lightning or rain thankfully, detouring to see the White River Falls on the drive home - worth a look-see if you haven't yet! All-in-all, a very worthwhile and satisfying outing out and about in my old stomping grounds!
Saint Jacobs Mountain - East Route via Van Horlick FSR, August 2024
Came across Saint Jacobs several years back perusing Clubtread forums in search of inspiration for hikes I'd not done yet. Had only recently moved to BC but was already running low on the popular "low hanging fruit" options and looking to expand my horizons beyond the better-known published alternatives. Also finally had a 4x4 at my disposal which in these parts ought to be considered a necessity for any serious outdoorsman, adventurer, alpine rambler, what have you. A 2013 report by "Simonc", at the time an avid peakbagger who bravely pushed the boundaries of solo hiking deep in the South Coast wilderness drew my attention for some reason. Be it the peak's novel location (for me), the excellent alpine scenery dotted with brilliant turquoise lakes, or perhaps the reasonably good FSR access and minimal bushwhacking, I was intrigued to experience St. Jacobs for myself. And so, on the heels of a successful ascent of Silent Hub Peak the day prior, which incidentally was also a Simonc-inspired outing, Finn and I set out for yet another adventure in the so-called Duffey Lake backcountry!
As per the report now over a decade old, we approached from the east taking the left spur off the main Van Horlick FSR for some 8.4 kilometers after turning off the highway. Unbeknownst to us at the time, newer forest roads have been extended up into the valley immediately west of St. Jacobs and its 43-foot taller neighbor Gideon Peak. As of this writing the preferred route appears to start from here instead. This approach is shorter with the option for combining both Gideon and St. Jacobs in a relatively easy day trip. However, from what I gather it also entails considerably more bushwhacking and is subjectively much less scenic. YMMV. Anyway, we continued up the spur for an additional 2 kilometers then turned right at a fork. Encroaching alders and some large water bars for the next kilometer or so, the last of which I dared not drive through. Not the day to lose my rear bumper and so reversed to where I could park without blocking the road. It was about 9 am by the time we started hiking.
Hoofed the road for about 2.5 kilometers more to reach the creek draining the valley between St. Jacobs and Midian Peak. Turned off the road immediately past this and promptly dove into heavy bush. Now keeping the creek within earshot to our right, we endured a short but intense bushwhack (10 - 15 minutes perhaps) before intersecting a small boulder field that offered us an escape from the unrelenting undergrowth. This we followed up into the large talus basin below St. Jacobs's towering North Face. We could now finally see what lay ahead and we certainly had our work cut out for us! Talus seemed to go on forever, despite our taking every opportunity to minimize the boulder hopping by contouring along the rightmost edge. Crested a large moraine, hopeful for easier travel beyond only discover yet more of the same up ahead. Ugh! But at least the scenery was easy on the eyes with an impossibly emerald-blue Midian Lake stealing the show!
Down into the next basin and back up the opposite side. Then over another moraine into the upper-most basin, where mercifully we could take to snow for much improved travel towards an imposing headwall just beyond. Snow was still a bit firm here and we were too lazy to bother with crampons, so instead traversed up and right over steep and horribly loose rock and hardened mud to FINALLY reach a prominent saddle low on the West Ridge of our objective. All that remained now was an easy scramble to the top, into and back out of a minor notch along the way. Took us just shy of 5 hours truck to summit. Outstanding views of course, better than the previous day in part due to less haze and smoke aloft. Rock and glaciers looking to the south and west, unmistakably more arid and greener looking north and east. The connecting ridge to Gideon looked tempting, but it also seemed like a long way to go, easily an hour or more from St. Jacobs. I think Finn was for it, whereas I just wanted to relax and save my energy for what I knew was going to be a slow and tedious descent. Also, didn't quite care for getting home past midnight. 45 glorious minutes on the summit before reluctantly commencing the hike back down.
Returning to the saddle, we found the snow now suitably soft for plunge stepping and made quick work of the headwall pitch. Then back across all the talus and whatnot to reach the deactivated road several hours later. Short walk back to where we were parked, ending about 10 1/4 hours after starting that morning. Had we gone for Gideon as well our day would have probably ended somewhere around 10 pm, never mind the ~3.5-hour drive back home. Made the right call as far as I'm concerned. Goes to show that it isn't always about the highest, as this hike demonstrates. The journey matters as much as the destination!
Silent Hub Peak - via Pushki Lake Trail, August 2024
Got the idea for this glancing over from the Steep/Darkside peaks area where I happened to be hiking a few weeks prior. Looking to the southeast from the connecting ridge between the two, I spied a large turquoise-hued lake lying in a scenic side valley with an aesthetic looking peak rising from its head. As it turns out, the peak that caught my eye is named Pushki Peak and is connected by a ~3 kilometer-long ridge to slightly higher Silent Hub Peak, which incidentally is not visible from Steep, Darkside or anywhere in between. My investigation also led me to discover the existence of a not-so-well known trail that leads up from a spur that branches off Van Horlick FSR and continues into a parallel side valley. This trail, likely used by ATVs and in winter by snowmobilers starts from an old washout and footbridge that spans the creek draining the foregoing valley and proceeds along an otherwise perfectly good forest road for some 4.5 kilometers to road's end. From there a worn and minimally bushy path continues for about a kilometer more to the shore of beautiful Pushki Lake nestled in a large alpine cirque formed by Pushki Peak, Tandem Peak and of course Silent Hub Peak standing proud in the middle of it all. Sold!
The decision to target Silent Hub for my next foray off the "Duffey" was a no-brainer, as they say. I recruited Finn, whom I'd climbed The Old Settler with the week prior into joining me on this as well as nearby Saint Jacobs Mountain the following day for an action-packed weekend of peakbagging. Off the highway and onto the now familiar Van Holick FSR (see Snowspider Mountain) for a bit over 6 kilometers to the before-mentioned spur which we followed a short distance more before stopping to park. Boots on and kicking dirt just shy of 11 am, over the bridge and up towards Silent Hub we go! Wished we'd brought bikes as the road was just a gentle incline most of the way. Trail continuation was easy to spot after the double-track ended, with just the occasional patch of waist-high veggies to wade through before reaching Pushki Lake. Got the first good look of our peak from here, deciding in the moment to make a loop of it by ascending to the Tandem-Silent Hub Col, up and over a sub-summit and then to Silent Hub proper before returning via a saddle between it and Pushki Peak.
Contoured around the south-side of the lake over talus then up a short heather slope to reach another, smaller lake. Around the south shore once more to yet another lake beyond which a gradual heather slope leads on up to the col. Continuing up, we followed a spur that saw us onto the "South Peak" of Silent Hub. Up and over this, with some careful route finding necessary to navigate the tricky decent to a saddle directly below the true summit. Then finally an easy ascent from here to Silent Hub itself. About 4 hours to the top at a very manageable pace, enjoying a nice long rest at last and taking in the outstanding views. From the Joffre Group to Saint Jacobs and Gideon, the prominent glaciers clinging to the Skook Jim and Kwoiek groups and last but not least, the mighty Skihist Mountain lurking back there in the haze, there's a lot to feast the eyes on from here!
Headed down as planned via a saddle now on Silent Hub's Northwest Ridge. Had to navigate some cliffiness once below the saddle, flying blind as we were, but returned to the lake basin from earlier without too much trouble. Mosquitoes were out in full force unfortunately, so on go the layers for the sweaty walk back to the road and the truck some time thereafter. Back to the pavement and on to my go-to "freedom camping" spot off the highway for the night. Had ambitious plans for tomorrow, so turned in early very satisfied with the day and hopeful for more of the same the next!
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