Oddly enough, I still have on my list of things to do "Write Trip Report for Horseshoe Peak", despite that we did it on June 26, so I guess I'll do that now. Not exactly a useful-as-beta trip report, but a trip report nonetheless.
Horseshoe Peak is mostly a scramble with one 5th-class move over on Ripsaw Ridge near Sahale Peak/Cascade Pass, for those who don't know it. In classic Adams style, we did the trip in a day, getting back to the trailhead just at dark, before we even needed to think about putting headlamps on. It was one of those awesome trips that makes you eager to get out and do more like it.
I've found myself remembering a lot of moments from that trip over the last couple of days, so I wanted to write them down before I forget them.
On the drive up, Lee had mentioned that he really didn't know the flora or fauna after all these years in the backcountry. I've tried to learn the names of the wildflowers I've seen, so as we headed up the trail I pointed out a few.
"Do you know what that one is?"
"Er, bunchberry?"
"No, that's trillium. With three petals. They turn purple as the flower starts to die. And that one's a kind of violet."
"But it's yellow, not purple."
"Yeah. Weird, I know."
"And that's hellibore," I continued as we motored up the trail.
"Hunh. I have some in my backyard, but it looks different."
I was quite happy that I could finally teach Lee something!
As we proceeded up the switchbacks towards Cascade Pass, every time we hit a bit of snow, he'd look upslope to see if it would be a good place to get off the trail.
"What do you think? Want to head straight up here?"
"Well, sure..."
He kicked steps for a while, until I offered to take over, and I started leading the way.
"Do you think we should maybe curve around to the left a bit to where it's a bit mellower?"
"Or we could keep going straight up this. It's really not that steep," I countered.
"OK, sure, whatever you want to do," he said.
So I lead up what I thought was going to be a more direct route, over some rocks where the snow was melting out, which of course resulted in some postholing and Susan ending up in at least one tree well.
"I think I mentioned that maybe we could have gone over to the left a couple of times," he stated, ever the diplomat.
Of course, when I checked the map again, what I had thought was going to be more direct wasn't more direct at all. It was just more difficult.
When I apologized for my mistake, his response was, "Hey, you've got to learn to lead the way now." That meant a lot to me at the time and even more now.
After we passed by the Sahale glacier and were heading over into the Horseshoe Basin, we were scouting a way down into it. It looked like we could go down a fairly mellow snow slope, scramble down a rock rib... or down a steep snow finger that Lee found. From the top it looked quite steep.
While I snacked, he went halfway down the finger (and then back up).
"I think it will go. How do you feel about it? If you don't want to do it, we can certainly go around."
"Well, if you're leading it, I'm happy following..."
And thus we took another AA (Ashlock-Adams) direct route.
On the way back, we opted not to take that same snow finger. We figured that the snow would have warmed up and been less safe, so we took another snow gulley up that was a bit shorter and less steep. When we got to the rocks at the top, we had the option of scrambling up the rocks or traversing to the snow on the other side. The wide snow slope was a bit less direct but mellow, but Lee's old boots were soaked through and he made a big pouty face when I suggested it. So we scrambled up the class 3-4 rocks instead. That pouty face (with lower lip stuck out) really cracked me up.
My compact camera had died, and the screen on his somehow crapped out that day, so we were taking pictures with his camera, blindly aiming without a viewfinder. He didn't usually ask for pictures of himself, but he asked for one when we stopped to have dinner on the Sahale Arm on the way down. Unfortunately because of the viewfinder situation, that meant that I ended up cutting his feet off in the last picture I took of him.
The views from that dinner spot were so stellar as the sun was starting to set.
When we got back to the trailhead, just before dark, we each had a beer. We had each brought some along, and I remember that he liked the trippel I had brought. And he was quite proud when I managed to finish it (although he probably helped a bit).
-Susan Ashlock
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