Sometimes you get what you wish for...and then some. I've been praying for a good dump of snow in the Pacific Northwest, preferably before our arrival in Bellingham. Well it's snowing, and snowing, and snowing. Mt Baker has gotten 4-6 feet since our arrival Saturday. It's all heavy, wet snow, AKA "Cascade Crud". And while it's beautiful, and great for the locals, who seem to be able to ski by Braille, it's not so good for the rest of us who appreciate being able to see where we're going.
The real problem with all this snow comes down to depth and visibility. Not only has the snow been falling massive quantities, but it has been accompanied by a thick fog. This combination has made snowboarding basically impossible for us. In addition, the powder has been up to 2 feet deep on
the groomed runs. Off the groomed stuff the powder can be above waist deep. So we spent a few runs on Sunday not being able to see a damn thing and I got to dig out and hike a couple of times for venturing off the "groomed" stuff. It's just too much snow. For example, Ruth saw me go off a 70 degree incline that I had no idea existed until it was too late. It took me about 20 minutes to dig out and hike to a place I could resume descending. Oh, yeah. Baker is a local's mountain and they aren't renowned for their attention to clear and concise signage.
So the 2 days we've tried to board haven't gone so well. Sunday we managed just 3 runs before the elements won. Today we drove up but it was abundantly clear that conditions were even worse than they were on Sunday. Now, don't think that Ruth and I are just wimps. We came here because Mt Baker frequently has epic conditions and we'll for sure go up the mountain in storm conditions. It's just the combination of way too deep snow and true non-visibility that has put the kibosh on our plans. There just isn't much point in going if you can't see and you get stuck every 100 feet. And the forcast doesn't look any better for the rest of the week. Shit.
We did have a really nice day visiting with Scott and Liz yesterday (Monday). We played tourist and basically did a driving tour of the Pac NW. We drove to Anacortes, a sleepy seaside community that did nothing to warrant a return trip. After that we turned south and visited the bridges at Deception Pass State Park. This is one of the most picturesque of the easily accessed areas of the Puget Sound. We spotted a couple of bald eagles and hiked around a bit. We then drove over to Laconner, another sleepy little town with some interesting shops and restaraunts. To round out the day we stopped at Boundary Bay Brewery for dinner and were treated to some impromptu Irish dance courtesy of a local school.
So tomorrow we've decided to head south to Stevens Pass ski area in hopes that conditions are a bit friendlier. My hope is that due to it's higher elevation we'll be above the fog. But we've decided that conditions be damned, we're gonna give it our best shot.
The morning after the the storm was cold and breezy. A tepid sunlight peered at us through thin bands of clouds. Already more robust clouds were gathering behind the Palisades, an overt display of what was to come later that day. Dave Rivas and I didn't say much. We knew that we wouldn't be climbing any peaks this week. We had discussed our options the previous evening while leaning against our makeshift wind shelter. The essential question was, "Are you comfortable with being caught in that?" (pointing up the mountain at the wind and sleet and hail and rain and snow; hell, maybe there were even man-eating Yetis up there). Really, the answer was a no-brainer...we were all in, knackered, toast, beat both literally and figuratively. To ascend under these weather conditions would have been to invite disaster. Middle Pal is a huge mountain with a variety of ways to kill foolish climbers. Neither of us had any desire to see our obituaries in "Accidents in North American Mountaineering 2009".
Honestly, we had put up a good effort, kept our heads, and displayed a stubborn resilience. Now it was time to accept the realities and demonstrate another attribute of all smart mountaineers...good judgement. Each day the weather had started earlier, lasted longer, and became more intense. It was time to go down.
We threw our kit together, shot a last picture (until next time) of Middle Pal and started descending. We were both a bit morose, though Rivas descibed it as "melancholy". I think I was a bit more prosaic about things; that's just the way it goes sometimes. We had all the experience and equipment needed to ascend the mountain, even in these conditions, but the weather had the final veto. Had we ascended we would undoubtedly have wished we hadn't. And that's called mountaineering. You only win if it's a round trip. 
So yeah, I was a bit frustrated and disappointed as we reversed our route, but at the same time I was already thinking of other things to do in the Owen's Valley. To my way of thinking, being shut out of your primary goal provides an opportunity to experience something else. Now, I know a good deal about the Owen's and it's holdings but I also know there's alot left to see, so that's what I was chewing on while trudging down the snow and rock on my way to lower elevation. As a parting shot, the rain started around 10:30, complimented by an icy breeze at our backsides to usher us out of the mountains.
Back on asphalt, we headed down to Bishop, devoured a pizza and headed out to the Keohe Hot Springs. The locals call the place "the ditch", and I suppose they're entitled to be a bit elitist about their hot springs, given that there are many in the Owen's, but I like the place. What the Keohes lack in ambiance, they make up for in ease of accessability. Naturally, the rain and wind had followed us out of the mountains. It was pretty nice to be warm for a change, and a hot soak felt even nicer with the gentle patter of rain on my dome. We eventually spent the night at Tonopah campground, a place that has little to recommend it in the light of day, however, the picnic tables aren't warped and are therefore comfortable to sleep on. Before turning in for the night, Dave and I created a short list of place to see and things to do. Thus began the second half the week. This final shot is of the Keohe springs. Road-Trip diary begins tomorrow.
Up on the 395 we stopped at some long abandoned homesteads and pulled out for a picture of the salt flats south of Lone Pine.
At Lone Pine we headed up to the Alabama Hills for a little 4Wheel pleasure cruise through the chaos of rock formations that dot that plain. We've tried to climb there in the past, but the rock can best be described as a cross between a garbage disposal and a meat grinder, not good for one's paws. Soon we were back on Whitney Portals road. Neither Dave nor I were saying much about the ominous bulk of clouds hanging over Mt. Whitney. After pulling over for a last phone call to ouy respective families, we rolled into the Portals, set up the tent and pretty much kicked back. I did take a stroll and shot the waterfall at the top of the Portals. 
I was very gratified to find out that my stencil "The Gunslinger" was still proudly displayed on US Forest Service property. I put him up last year and had no expectations that he would last a week, let alone a whole year. Either the rangers like him or they're terribly unobservant.
Dave related to me that he was "aprehensive" about the weather for our "real" trip into the mountains. I think I said that weather like this never sticks around long during spring, though I admit that I was worried as well. I'd had a few bad weather experiences in the Sierras and had no desire for a repeat performance. I know, one might think, well why go in early spring? The answer is that we love the alpine stuff, snow, weather, whatever. We were ready for it but that doesn't make bad weather an endearing entity.
After our day-hike to Mirror Lake we descended back to Lone Pine and headed North to Big Pine. Once there we headed up Glacier Lodge road...in the rain, and were once again staring at big ugly weather at altitude, right where we were headed. Our real adventure begins the next day, and I've got alot to write about. Things turned out different than we thought they would, but life is like that sometimes and I hope you'll agree that we crammed one helluvalot into 8 days. Part 2 tomorrow.
