Ruth Mountain Annual Ski Trip
DATE HIKED:4/20/24
TOTAL MILEAGE: 12 MILES
TOTAL ELEVATION GAIN: 4,800’
There are many ski tours I do once and while I enjoy them I do not have the desire to repeat them. There are also a small handful of tours that I could do again and again, year after year. Ruth Mountain is one of the latter. The view from the summit is one of my favorite views in all of Washington and the ~3,000’ ski down Ruth’s face is one of the most enjoyable lines I’ve experienced in the backcountry. So last weekend, Alex, Sander, and I set out to ski Ruth in a day. I already had two successful ski summits under my belt, one time in a whiteout with Alex that I am reluctant to even count, and a second time last year with my friend Andrew. I was excited for Sander and Alex to ski Ruth for the first time in—fingers crossed—good conditions.
Ruth is a tricky ski tour to time properly because the lower portion of the trail has a propensity to transform into a torturous gauntlet in the wrong conditions—something Alex and I learned the hard way. The first few miles of trail traverse under the steep southwest wall of the valley. The route is intercepted by one avalanche debris field after another and if the trail is only partially melted out this means tiptoeing over snow bridges, skirting around massive snow piles, and transitioning from snow to dirt and back again more times than you can count. Last year, I waited to ski Ruth until mid-May, when satellite imagery showed the trail to be almost completely melted out. The trail still had a few significant avalanche debris piles to contend with, but for the most part it was easy-going. The goal this year was to hike it in similar conditions. I kept an eye on trip reports and satellite imagery and after the weekend of April 13th, it looked like the trail was sufficiently melted out. Our plans were laid, we were going to attempt Ruth!
The first hurdle of the trip arrived before we even made it to the trailhead. Half a mile down the road from the Hannegan Pass Trailhead we encountered a large snow patch. Had there not been a set of tire tracks luring us into the sprawl of white, we would have likely have stopped here and found a place to pull off the road for the night, but the tracks were enticing and we felt confident our car and its winter tires could also make the journey. Approximately one hundred feet and ten seconds later our car lurched to a stop, our center high-pointed and our wheels spinning fruitlessly. This was not a good start. We all got out of the car to assess our predicament. Darkness was approaching, we were alone, and we were very, very stuck. We pulled our avalanche shovels out of our backpacks and started digging. A few more attempts to get unstuck were unsuccessful.
Our tire chains were stowed deep in the belly of our car—under all of our skiing gear, camping gear, and sleeping platform. It all had to go. With our gear strewn about next to our car we finally were able to fish our tire chains out and put them on. They gave us more traction and we made progress in fits and starts. Finally, in the pitch dark, with Alex revving the car in reverse and Sander pushing from the front, the tires held and our car catapulted backwards through the snow, the headlights frantically jittering as they shrank into the night. The entire rescue mission took 45 minutes, but felt like hours. We set up our sleeping platform and crawled into bed, hoping to get as much sleep as our adrenaline-filled bodies would allow before our 3:30am alarm.
Unbeknown to us, our second hurdle was already in the car with us. At 1am, Alex jerked awake and said “something just crawled on me!” “It was probably a bug,” I assured him, willing the idea of it being something bigger out of existence. A few minutes later we heard it. The crunch crunch crunch of a mouse eating something (my Subway leftovers, it turned out). We tried to find it, but it was futile, our car was piled to the brim with gear and the mouse was so tiny. We slept very little in the remaining 2.5 hours, our short naps interspersed with munching and scampering and our jolting awake.
I was relieved when 3:30am struck and our alarms sounded because it meant we could escape the car. As we were gathering our gear I looked under the seats and saw two teeny paws and one little snout under driver’s seat. It was a mouse! Alex and I were slightly concerned we may have been experiencing a shared hallucination, but the mouse was real and it was cowering in the depths of our car.
We hit the trail at 4:15am. The mouse was still in our car, a problem we delegated to our future selves.
As we meandered up the snow-covered trail it dawned on me that perhaps the satellite images hadn’t been accurate—or, more likely, I had been misreading them. The trail was filled with snow, so much more snow than last year, and even more snow than the year Alex and I did it. Worry crept in, did we make a huge mistake? We had our trail runners on, anticipating the trail to be bare but the snow was firm enough that our shoes gripped the snow with ease and travel was smooth. We made quick time. There were no sketchy snow bridges, no slick slopes, just solid snow. My worries were allayed. Having more snow actually turned out to be a benefit instead of a hindrance.
We reached the forested section below Hannegan Pass just as the sun was reaching the peaks of the valley and made our first transition: from trail runners to ski boots and crampons. The snow finally had grown too icy for our trail runners. Crampons on, we continued up to Hannegan Pass at a much more efficient pace.
Reaching Hannegan Pass felt like checking part one of a part three series off (part two being booting up to and around Point 5930 and part three being Ruth Arm to the summit). We took our first break at Hannegan Pass. Sunlight poured through the trees and the wind buffeted us. As I piled on more layers, Sander explained that the wind was actually a good thing. It was coming from the east which meant it was keeping an approaching storm from the Pacific at bay. (We knew this storm was forecasted, which is why we had such an early wakeup, we wanted to be up and off the summit by 11, since the clouds were expected to roll in around 2.)
Alex set the bootpack up to the base of Point 5930. The snow remained solid and we made quick work of the slope. I couldn’t help but remember the first time Alex and I booted up this slope, I had been so nervous, so scared. This time it felt routine, easy. Sometimes it can be tough to know if I’m making any progress at quelling my fears and becoming more confident in the backcountry, but this was evidence that I was.
We rounded Point 5930 and made our second and final transition of the approach: to skinning.
I will never tire of the view of Ruth when cresting the ridge beneath Point 5930. Ruth Mountain’s entire north face was sprawled in front of us with the imposing and jagged north face of Shuksan looming beyond. It’s a view that keeps me coming back time after time.
The wind continued to accost us as we made our way onto the Ruth Arm and past the stand of trees we camped near in 2021. We still had yet to see any other people on the route but I relished the solitude, it was just us and the mountains. And the wind.
At 10:30am, after just over six hours of climbing, we made it to the summit. We were able to skin all the way up the arm (a first for me). Once again, the views left me with my jaw on the ground. It was also incredibly clear. Last year there had been a slight haze hanging in the air, which gave the surrounding mountains a yellowish tint, but this year the mountains appeared with stark clarity through the atmosphere.
Still the wind did not let up, but in all of our layers and with the sun shining, it didn’t feel too cold.
We sat alone on the summit, took in the views, and snacked. Far below us, on the Ruth Arm, we saw two other groups heading our way.
While we successfully made it to the summit before the storm rolled in, we could see the marine layer growing in the distance. It appeared like a low, dark gray wave crawling toward us. The bank of clouds was still a ways off so we decided to wait a little longer before descending to give the snow more time to soften up.
An hour later, a snowshoer joined us on the summit. He had flown in from Long Beach the day before to visit his friend in Concrete and they had then beelined it to Ruth. Sander pointed out all the surrounding peaks to him and he told us that this was the prettiest view he had ever seen. The camaraderie of the mountains always makes my heart swell. Being able to share a moment of awe with a complete stranger is a peak human experience.
While the views could have kept me on the summit all day, just before noon we clicked into our skis and began the journey down. Immediately the snow was icy. Alex scraped down off the summit and I thought oh boy here we go, but thankfully it was only the summit area that was scoured. A few turns down the face and we hit the good stuff. We skied one by one past Shuksan and Baker in beautifully soft snow. They were some of the most scenic ski turns of my life!
Since the face was still so fat and filled in we opted to ski the fall line into the valley. This was a brand new line for me. On my previous skis from the summit I dropped in from the Ruth Arm but this year, with many of the rocks covered and cracks buried, we went for the fall line. It ended up being a little more challenging than we anticipated. From the trail, the route looked so obvious but from above the convex slopes hid the route from view. We didn’t know if what was just out of sight below us was an open slope or a rocky cliff. We consulted our maps, and skied from safe point to safe point until we rounded a corner and the rest of the way unfurled itself before us, an obvious path to the valley.
We party skied all the way to the creek, whooping with joy, not wanting the ski to end.
But eventually the fun was over and we transitioned back to skins. We opted to stay as low as possible (trying to avoid the dense alder from last year’s trip). We skinned through sparse trees until we hit an avalanche debris path that led us right up to the trail. This route was certainly more enjoyable and straightforward than last year’s battle with the forest.
The hike back was rough—it always is on the Hannegan trail! We kept our ski boots on which made for easy walking through the sun-softened snow. With all the fun behind us I was impatient to get back to the car but we still had about four miles of trail to cover with our skis on our backs. We fell into our own rhythms and paces.
At 3:45pm, after 11.5 hours of travel, we were back at the car.
We hoped the mouse would have departed in our absence, but Alex opened the glove compartment upon our return and there it was! We ended up driving all the way back to Seattle with the little stowaway, but once we got home we only saw signs of the mouse for one more day. We set humane traps in the car and filled them with enticing peanut butter, but we never saw the mouse again. I guess that country mouse is learning what it means to be a city mouse.
It was a wild adventure from start to finish, and once again Ruth Mountain proved why she’s one of my favorite mountains. This may have been my fourth summit, but I know it won’t be my last.
