On Sunday we had a break in the rain so I decided to explore another one of the local trails. The south-facing approach and 5,000 foot elevation of Hex Mountain all but guaranteed a snow-free adventure but after last month’s turnaround just below the summit of Sasse Mountain I decided that I’d lug along a pair of snowshoes just in case.
It would prove to be one of the lesser mistakes on this trip.
The first half of the trail to Hex Mountain is just an old logging road; eventually the actual trail splits off to follow a ridge to a three-way junction just west of the summit. Between the general dryness of eastern Washington and charred husks of trees indicative of recent forest fires the undergrowth was almost non-existent: I quickly became bored of the road and decided to go cross-country.
Ascending a smaller ridge just west of the main one yielded incredible views of Cle Elum Lake as I came out of the forest and onto open ground. Descending briefly to Bell Creek to fill up on water, I climbed 300 feet up the opposite side to continue along the rocky spine of the next section of the ridge.
From here I descended east to a logging road and then worked my way up to the next ridge, rejoining the main trail. Patchy snow become constant just before reaching a three-way junction on Hex’s west ridge. The actual summit was busy so I skirted around the south side to continue on to the slightly lower (and deserted) east summit.
This is where things got hairy. Looking southward from the eastern summit I could see an obvious trail leading into the woods past a pair of dirt bikers. Without checking my map I decided that obviously this must be part of some huge loop around the Newport Creek ravine and that if I followed it south it would eventually reconnect with the approach trail and thus the trailhead.
But it did not.
I first realized something was amiss during a routine map check: I had missed the turnoff west into the ravine and instead was following the trail south alongside it. I also noticed that Gaia didn’t know about the trail I was on – I was flying blind, more or less. Figuring that if the ravine was crossable it must be somewhat navigable I decided I’d just descend straight down and come up the other side. Unfortunately the sides were incredibly steep (just shy of 40 degrees) and as I got closer to the creek it became apparent that instead of a dirt bank the creek cut between walls of vertical rock. I wouldn’t say it was uncrossable but at that point it looked like a death trap.
I took this to mean that there must be a much more obvious crossing up north as indicated by the dotted line on the map so I slowly worked my way up the ravine to the trail and backtracked back to the junction. Except there was no junction. No trail, not even anything faint, just flat out nothing. But, the map said it was there so once again I decided to descend the ravine thinking I’d spot the obvious crossing once I got close enough. Unfortunately there was no crossing and I never spotted anything even remotely resembling a trail as I descended, turned around, and then worked my way back up in a large triangle.
I wouldn’t say I was lost in the typical sense – I was on a well-used trail that continued southward and thanks to Gaia I knew my position within a handful of feet. But disconcertingly my surroundings weren’t matching up with the map and I still needed to figure out a way to get back to the trailhead that didn’t involve retracing the last 8 miles past the summit and down the other side. Consulting the map but ignoring the trail markings (or lack thereof) I saw that eventually I would hit a road and that this road would take me to a large flat area where crossing the creek should’ve been more feasible. And just across the creek? Another road which would connect me back to the trailhead.
And it did.
There were a lot of lessons to take away here but I think the first one is that I need to spend more time surveying the map of an area before setting out: not just my intended route but alternate routes, “escape” routes, terrain traps and places which look tricky and/or dangerous, as well as thoroughly inspecting the trail/road network in an area. My assumption that the trail must have been part of a loop was flat out wrong and easily disproved which just a quick glance but overconfidence and a sense of adventure got the best of me while planning took a back seat. I’m fortunate this was an easy day trip and not the middle of some multi-day excursion.
The second lesson is that I rely too heavily on technology for navigation. The maps on Gaia were flat out wrong and my phone’s battery was starting to run low right when I needed it the most. It’s an older model phone so the battery reading isn’t anywhere close to accurate, it will often shut off around 18% and the drain rate is unpredictable. I had a fully-charged power bank with me so in reality it wasn’t a problem but it did significantly add to the stress I was already feeling.
To my credit I had been making heavy use of my Suunto Clipper mini compass the whole trip so I’m not all in on gadgets.
So, what to do? Well, I’m challenging myself to rely solely on old-school navigation for my next few trips (if not permanently). At the very least it will help conserve battery and provide much-needed redundancy.
Specifically, I think it’s time to get back in the habit of not only always bringing a paper map but also bringing a writing instrument to mark it up with. This gives me a larger surface to “think” with and should make pre-planning routes easier. I’m also going to dredge up my old altimeter/barometer watch and start bringing that along as well. Hourly check-ins are something that I like to do when I lead trips and if I had the watch set up to alarm every hour during daylight it would have helped me take more breaks (important for sunscreen, foot care, hydration, etc. but often overlooked) and also given me time to get my bearings, plan ahead, and annotate the map as needed. And I’m saying this as a person who absolutely hates having things on my wrist.
This was a wake-up call that it’s too easy to get complacent, especially on “easy” trips in your back yard. If I hadn’t had the sense to get out of the ravine (twice) before getting stuck or had actually attempted to cross the creek where the map indicated I might have gotten myself into trouble.
It won’t happen again.
Gear
Day trips for me are almost always last-minute affairs (which definitely contributed to the poor route planning) so I never bother putting together a LighterPack list. I think I’m going to change that going forward. In any case we can still talk about gear:
What Worked
As mentioned earlier I was constantly making use of my Suunto Clipper mini compass. I’ve always had mixed feelings about bringing it over a “real” compass but for the basic navigation I’m doing it meets my needs perfectly (this is coming from someone who used to teach navigation). On the other hand it obviously falls short for map work since there’s no baseplate so I’m probably going to replace it.
The Garmin inReach Mini satellite communicator made the whole trip possible. Although Okanogan-Wenatchee National Forest is open for recreation the trailheads are closed. Yeah, I know, it’s like some kind of brain teaser. In any case I had my wife drop me off and used the Mini to coordinate a pick-up time with her in addition to providing what I’m sure are absolutely riveting trip updates. Thanks Garmin!
My new pancake lens is light enough where I no longer need the additional support of the Peak Design Pro Pad in order to keep my shoulder strap from twisting. This is the virtuous circle of ultralight: as you bring less and lighter gear you can use lighter things to hold it. Looks like another poor soul is soon to be exiled to the unloved gear box!
I put my Vaseline into one of those little 5mL Litesmith mini jars. Verdict: awesome. Much much easier to access by just dipping my finger in as opposed to having to squeeze a hairs-width stream out of some tube.
Having never used any Tenacious Tape over the course of the past year I reduced the amount I carry down to a single square weighing one gram. I’m happy to report that, having also not used any on this trip, I seem to be getting closer to the right amount.
It was the inaugural trip for my new Manfrotto Pixi Evo tripod and it delivered on the creek shot. Can’t wait to see what else it can do once my ND-10 filter arrives.
What Didn’t
I slipped on my beloved Massdrop Veil wind shirt as I traversed the summit ridge in response to the wind gusting over the cold snow. However as soon as I re-entered the shelter of the trees I found myself getting a bit stuffy but I was too stubborn to take the jacket off after only having put it on mere moments ago. I remember thinking to myself, “If only this thing had pit zips.” And then I realized that I’d never actually owned a jacket (rain or wind) with pit zips. What if… what if I could find an ultralight rain jacket with pit zips that could do double-duty as a rain and wind shell?
In what can only in hindsight be described as a bout of stupid light I removed the bolt and loop from my inReach Mini and started keeping it in my old hiking shirt‘s chest pocket. Unfortunately my new hiking shirt (and even my new new hiking shirt if it’s ever actually in stock) doesn’t have pockets so now I’m putting the Mini in my zippered thigh pocket. Problem is that the signal doesn’t go through flesh, having it bounce around a bunch probably isn’t great, and finally the quadrifilar helix antenna (no really) on the device prefers a vertical orientation rather than a horizontal one. In other words it should probably be attached to my shoulder strap using the little bolt and loop as originally intended.
I “attached” my snowshoes to my pack by just placing them horizontally under the top pouch and cinching it down. Did it cause any problems? No, but I kept worrying that they were going to slip out at any time. There oughtta be a saying, if you love it, attach it, or something along those lines. I need to locate my Voile straps that came with my skis and some shock cord and see if I can rig up a proper system.
What’s Next
My Montbell Versalite arrives Friday just in time for a weekend of showers. If it pans out as a rain and wind shell replacement it’ll be a $200 upgrade for a 5oz weight reduction. Is $40 an ounce worth it? I’m hoping so: it’ll put me solidly into 14-pound base weight territory.
I’ve ordered a Casio SGW300HB-3AV sport watch with altimeter/barometer features. This should help put me back on the proper navigation path. I browsed the manual online and one feature that I’m really excited about is having the watch beep every hour on the hour to help enforce breaks and map check-ins.
Trashing both of my gear closets I was finally able to locate the bolt and strap which originally came with the inReach Mini. After re-attaching them I was then able to attach it to my pack’s shoulder strap by way of a Litesmith micro carabiner. Love those things. Unfortunately I had to borrow it from another gadget so looks like I’ll be ordering more.
My current collection of grown-up compasses all feature sighting mirrors which are heavy, overkill, and prone to fogging. Solution: the Suunto M-3.
Finally, I’ve located my Voile straps and will be figuring out a proper way to rig my snowshoes to my backpack (although I doubt this will be relevant for much longer).
Route
Gaia folder:
https://www.gaiagps.com/public/ebeRqw06ttiVNXyAa0rqSKf6
The two red triangles in the lower right are where I wandered off into the ravine.
Photography
SmugMug gallery:
https://turigrinos.smugmug.com/Adventures/2020/Hex-Mountain
Aside from the cover photo at the top I think this mountain shot turned out well:
Of course, no overnight means no sunrise or sunset so you have to take what you can get.