Silver Peak Scramble

In preparation for the new season, a ski touring trip report from March 2022.

Forty-five minutes from Seattle, we peeled off I-90 onto exit 47. We rolled across the bridge over the Snoqualmie River and our progress immediately stopped. A full-length school bus stood in front of us, stuck in a snow bank and blocking the road entirely.

The bus was covered in psychedelic graffiti, the windows were boarded up. Two guys were throwing pieces of furniture out of the back. One of them came over and told us not to be alarmed, the old furniture they tossed was just to lighten the load. They’d come back for it later, right after they got back on the interstate to pick up a couch they had lost during transit.

As we listened to the bus man’s reassurances, a white duck waddled out from behind the schoolie, some sort of gold and purple pendant hanging from her neck. Sensing our surprise, the bus guy said, “Meet Mrs. Quackers. See her neck? That’s her quartz crystal - keeps her grounded.”

With our wildlife sightings satisfied, we finished our beacon check and started up the forest road on foot. The usual crew of myself, Helen, and Sam were joined by Cam plus Artidoro and Moritz, friends of Sam’s that were billed as just the experienced Euro mountaineers we’d need to ski Silver en bon style.

Walking up the summer trail for the first two miles, we finally found skinnable snow under the power lines. We linked the summer trail to the Palouse-to-Cascades rail trail, dropping down into the Humpback Creek valley and setting a gentle uptrack on the west side of the creek. Ascending towards Annette Lake, the air sat heavy and warm in the valley as the clouds clung stubbornly overhead.

Water was consumed and vents were opened as we approached the lake, stepping gingerly over old avy debris from the week’s heavy rains. Silver Peak loomed to the east, the summit obscured by cloud cover. Skin skiing down to the lake, we could see the saddle of the summit ridge staring down at us, guarded by chutes and narrow cliff bands.

We trended west of Annette Lake, climbing steeper glades as we searched for the guidebook’s promise: a wide drainage that would hug Abiel Face and deliver us to the saddle below the summit. In the trees, the skinning got icy and we decided to boot the final 100 feet to the lip of the drainage. Kicking in, Moritz and Artidoro set a quick boot pack in firm snow. Helen and I brought up the rear, but the steepness and wide step spacing took a toll.  Fear set in and before long she was fully gripped. Tears were wiped away, but ultimately we made steady progress and emerged at the top of the lip.

Progress to the summit flew by, punctuated by a sandwich stop on the saddle ridge. Note to self: this would be a lovely spot to make a winter camp. Climbing the south ridge of Silver, we were treated to views of Granite Peak across the valley in the distance. Summit views themselves left something to be desired as low clouds lingered, but were compensated for the obscurity with a distant sighting of a massive white mountain goat traversing a rocky cliff.

With summit pics taken and chocolate consumed, we scrambled a few minutes back to the snow, clicking into bindings on benches cut into the freeze-thaw. We made a descent plan and set off one at a time to ski the open west face. For our efforts, we were rewarded with nature’s groomer: 2,000 feet of rain corn. From the bottom of the first pitch I watched Arti show off a strong short turn, Moritz dropped knees as the token telemarker and Helen tested her new ski setup. The run just kept going until we regrouped and funneled down into Humpback Creek. Arti scouted a snow bridge, probably the last one for the season, and we skimmed across cleanly.

Riding high on our accomplishment, we skied down our uptrack, only stopping to jib off little snow banks and de-layer for the exit. After a woeful attempt at a shortcut near the rail trail, we reached the forest as the sun was setting. Skis came off and we trudged down the summer trail, feet aching for slippers at the car.

Finally, we saw it, the bright yellow beacon in the distance. After two miles of hiking in ski boots, we came upon the school bus with our headlamps blazing. Busy fishing for my car keys and daydreaming of carbohydrates, I jumped when I heard it…

“QUACK”