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Wednesday, May 13, 2026
Mount McNair - West Route via Bear Creek FSR, April 2025
In search of another peak suitable for the early season, I landed on Mount McNair. Located among the collection of peaks east of the southern end of Harrison Lake, it's a relatively prominent summit despite its modest elevation of just over 5,800 feet, and one that boasts excellent views from the top. It certainly helped that I managed to get a good look at it from the previous Fletcher hike, sealing the deal right then and there as my next outing. Like most peaks of this nature, McNair is best tackled while a solid spring snowpack still blankets much of the brush and alder encountered lower on the route. That said, it could certainly be hiked once the snow has melted off, though I suspect it becomes far less enjoyable by then—and to be fair, there are plenty of more interesting objectives to pursue during the height of summer hiking season.
But here we are, still only April, and on a day blessed with neither rain nor much cloud cover for that matter, I headed out once again along the now-familiar Harrison East FSR for many kilometers of potholes and dust. Turning right into Bear Creek Valley, I followed the road for roughly seven kilometers to the unsigned trailhead. After parking along the roadside, I grabbed my pack and started up an overgrown spur road before quickly reaching the base of a cutblock. Following flagging tape upward through the clearing to the treeline above, the real work soon began: a steep grind through the forest.
Somewhere along the way I gained an old alder-choked road and, following more flagging, traversed it briefly to the right before heading steeply uphill once again through the trees. Eventually I emerged into another cutblock where the first patches of snow appeared. Snowshoes on, and upward I went, punching through to the slash beneath with nearly every other step. It was a genuine pain in the ass, and I certainly wasn't looking forward to dealing with it again on the descent. After much cursing I finally reached the forest above, where the snow thankfully became somewhat firmer. A short, steep climb led to a small bench—likely a marsh once the snow melts out. Crossing this, I continued upward through more steep snow before finally reaching the toe of the mountain's west-southwest ridge, where the first real views of the day began opening northward toward the Old Settler group.
From there I followed the ridge upward as it flattened briefly, offering the first clear glimpses of McNair directly ahead. One snowshoe after another, I plodded onward to where the route steepened again for the final push to the summit. The snow grew steep in places, though at no point did I feel the need for an ice axe. Soon enough I emerged onto the broad summit area just above the trees and was rewarded with the expected excellent views.
Old Settler rising prominently to the north was impossible to ignore and easily the highlight of the day. Farther north, Mount Urquhart and Breakenridge Mountain also stood out, while the view down to Harrison Lake far below was particularly easy on the eyes. Looking farther afield, the summit also provided a fantastic perspective across the Chehalis Range to the west, toward Mount Outram and the Cheam Range to the south, and seemingly everything in between.
After roughly three and a half hours of ascent and about forty minutes spent relaxing on the summit, I began the descent, arriving back at the truck shortly after Beer:30 to cap off an enjoyable seven-hour day—minus, of course, the miserable post-holing lower down, which somehow proved even more tedious on the way out than it had earlier that morning.
Mount Fletcher (S3) - East Route via Chehalis Lake, April 2025
Just under 3 kilometres as the crow flies south of Mount Fletcher stands the informally named Fletcher S3. With recent trail development and—judging by photos I'd seen online—better views than its taller neighbour, particularly overlooking Chehalis Lake, I settled on it as my debut snowshoe outing of spring 2025.
Andrew and I drove out to the community of Harrison Mills on a fair-weather Saturday in April, then continued roughly 23 kilometres up the Chehalis FSR to an unsigned and overgrown fork used to access the trailhead. It was a little past 9 a.m. when we started walking, first up an old road, then across a short cutblock section before entering the forest. There was no real bushwhacking to speak of, and once we located the trail, navigation was straightforward—at least until we hit snowline.
The route climbed steadily through steep open forest, weaving around the occasional bluff as duff gradually gave way to snow. We continued upward for a while before finally strapping on snowshoes. Following a GPX track now, we pushed through gloppy spring cement to reach a broad open bench dotted with a couple of still-buried lakelets southeast of the peak. Faint tracks from previous parties crossed the bench toward our objective, so we happily followed them. Another short stretch of forest brought us to the base of the South Ridge. With Andrew once again leading the charge, we plodded upward through increasingly open terrain until finally breaking out onto the summit area, where an excellent 360-degree panorama awaited us.
The highlight for me was the view down Chehalis Lake, which this peak delivered in spades. There were also fantastic views north into the Chehalis Range, from Ratney and Bardeen to the VRC peaks immediately beyond. Judge Howay and Robie Reid stood prominently to the west, while Old Settler to the east and the Cheam Range and Fraser Valley to the southeast rounded out the visual feast. All very satisfying for only about 3.5 hours of effort. We returned the way we came for a roughly 7.5-hour day—an excellent warm-up for all the adventures still to come that spring.
JAPOW! - Niseko Snowboarding (Japan), February 2025
After a few years of persistent "encouragement" from Ben, I finally relented and joined him on a snowboarding trip to Japan. I'd been to the country once before, but that was as a kid with my parents during the summer—hardly the same experience. Ben, on the other hand, had gone on a snowboarding trip a couple of years prior and had nothing but praise for it. In fact, Japan has more or less become a rite of passage for snowboarders around the world. Bring your pow board for all the bottomless goodness—along with the occasional annoying crust-and, more importantly, bring your slope-management A-game, because the secret is very much out. These days, the legendary powder of the Land of the Rising Sun is no secret to anyone with a passion for the not-so-steep and very deep.
The following day, we met up with our EVO/Burton crew and bussed it to our nearly slope-side onsen-style hotel—our home base for the next week. We sorted out our rentals that same day: a pair of Burton Fish boards for Agata and me, thank you very much. The next morning, after a fresh dump overnight, we promptly ditched the guides and struck out on our own. Free of the proverbial umbilical, we made a beeline for the infamous "pizza box" chairlift and boot-packed to the summit of Mount Niseko-Annupuri for a fantastic descent down the East Face. The zone hadn't opened yet for the season, so conditions were about as good as it gets.
Another standout came a few days later with a top-to-bottom descent from the summit down the east and south-facing slopes to the Annupuri base—an absolute ripper. There was no shortage of incredible terrain to explore, though also no shortage of others chasing the same lines. We spent one day riding nearby Rusutsu Resort, but otherwise divided our time between the main Niseko ski areas, always with the striking cone of Mount Yotei dominating the skyline.
With a mediocre start to the ski season, I set out to pluck some low-hanging fruit in the Fraser Valley. With a modest elevation that remains mostly below the snowline throughout winter, Gloria Peak makes for an excellent objective this time of year. As with many peaks of this type, the true summit is entirely viewless and of interest mainly to the diehard peakbaggers. Fortunately, a lookout just before the summit more than makes up for it, offering outstanding views across the valley: over the Chilliwack flatlands toward Abbotsford, across the country flanking the Fraser River from Nicomen Island and the nearby foothills to the west, north over Agassiz with Harrison Lake beyond, and finally upstream to the northeast where the river exits the valley constriction west of Hope. In other words, another high-value hike.
Once again with my trusty hiking companion Pepper in tow, we set out from the Chilliwack Community Forest at a very civilized 10:30 a.m. It's a bit of a maze of trails in there, and a GPX track proved helpful in getting onto the Gloria Trail without constantly wondering whether we'd taken a wrong turn. The lower portion was your standard forest hike—pleasant enough, though not especially memorable—until we reached snowline. There was maybe a foot of snow on the ground, but a solid trench from previous hikers meant no trail breaking was required.
We reached the Gloria Peak-Gloria Lookout junction in under three hours, then turned right and descended roughly half a kilometer to the lookout. As advertised, the view was excellent and well worth the otherwise monotonous grunt to get there. After taking it all in, we climbed back to the junction and paused long enough to help Pepper warm her paws after so much time on snow. Gloria Peak itself wasn't on the agenda, let alone of much interest to me, so after a brief rest we began the descent. First hike of 2025, and a good one it was.
There are a couple of Sumas Mountains that I'm aware of. One lies in the Fraser Valley, immediately northeast of Abbotsford, BC, while the other sits about 24 kilometres to the south, just across the border in Washington State. This report is for the latter. I've been up the BC Sumas a couple of times, where a fantastic view unfolds over the Fraser River just downstream of its confluence with the Harrison River. As is often the case with these lower peaks, the best viewpoint isn't from the actual summit, which is treed and cluttered with communications infrastructure. The Washington Sumas is no different in that regard-its summit is also viewless and even requires a bit of bushwhacking to reach. That said, there are numerous excellent viewpoints along the way and near the top, including one looking back toward its northern namesake.
Looking to make the most of a fair-weather early December day, Pepper and I set out to explore the "other" Sumas for ourselves. It was a chilly start when I pulled into the Gold Mine Trailhead, with frost coating the pasture beside the trail. From there, we headed into the forest and turned left at the junction toward the "cabin." Originally built in the 1890s and later rebuilt, it's a quaint structure—at least from the outside—and apparently serves as a resting place for hikers and equestrians alike. Continuing past the cabin, we turned right onto the Cabin Loop Trail, followed shortly by a left onto the Ridge Trail.
As we gained elevation, views began to open to the south over the northern Whatcom County lowlands. The trail soon reaches the toe of Sumas's north-northeast ridge, where the first unobstructed views north toward the Fraser Valley appear. From the Chehalis Range peeking out to the left, across to the "other" Sumas, Urquhart, Old Settler, Vedder (with Cultus Lake at its base), and finally the Cheam Range to the far right, the panorama was surprisingly impressive, and I took my time soaking it all in.
Continuing up the Ridge Trail, more views toward the Border Peaks area unfolded before the route made a sharp jog right to intersect a forest service road just below the summit. From here, an expansive panorama stretching from southwest to northwest opened up. The Olympic Mountains and San Juan Islands sat off to the far left, Birch Bay lay ahead, and to the right, snowcapped peaks such as Judge Howay, Robie Reid, Golden Ears, and the Misty Icefield stole the show. This little peak punches well above its weight. I poked around the north side of the summit area to see if any additional views could be found and was rewarded once again with a great look at Mount Baker and the Twin Sisters.
Finally prying myself away from the views, we headed back the way we came, making a short detour near the bottom to check out the old gold mine. It wasn't especially compelling, and with time ticking on, we didn't linger long before heading home. All things considered, for a "dumpster dive," this version of Sumas is about as good as it gets—and on a clear day, it makes for an excellent shoulder-season objective!
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