Shuksan Attempt via the Sulphide Glacier
DATES SKIED: 4/24-4/25/26
TOTAL MILEAGE: 16 MILES
TOTAL ELEVATION GAIN: 6,200’
Mt. Shuksan is a mountain that I long considered so far outside of my skillset and comfort zone that I would never climb it. While the slopes on Shuksan’s south side are lower angle and more approachable, the final ~800’ summit pyramid is steep—a sustained 40 to 50 degrees, and even steeper on the final 20’-30’. But after successfully climbing Garibaldi and expanding my comfort zone skiing steeper slopes, Shuksan suddenly felt more like a possibility. Because I thought I’d never be able to climb the mountain, I avoided even stepping foot on it. I figured why climb 90% of a mountain if I don’t have the skills to make it up the last 10%? This season, I finally felt ready to at least step foot on the mountain, set eyes on the summit pyramid, and assess the terrain for myself.
My friend Kara also wanted the opportunity to climb Shuksan, having turned around due to weather and poor conditions on a few prior attempts. I asked if she wanted to join me on my ski mountaineering attempt via the Sulphide Glacier route and she agreed!
We met at an empty Shannon Creek Trailhead on Friday afternoon. To break up the elevation gain, we decided to attempt Shuksan as an overnight trip. We didn’t plan to go too far to camp—just a few miles to the reported snow line. This would make for a shorter summit day and it meant we could sleep in a tad longer the following morning.
My overstuffed pack at the trailhead
Carrying a pack stuffed with overnight gear, glacier gear, and ski gear again, so soon after Garibaldi was agonizing. I’ve since decided I only have a couple of these trips in me per season, and spacing them out by only three weeks was certainly not a sufficient enough break. My pack weighed the same, or even slightly less, than my Garibaldi pack but somehow it felt heavier.
We trudged up the trail in the late afternoon glow. I tried to focus on the golden light drenching the forest floor, but I kept getting distracted by my pack tugging and pulling at me from all angles. I adjusted and shifted my pack every few minutes, looking for some sort of relief from the aches, but any relief was short lived.
We kept our trail runners on as we hit patchy snow around 3,500’ and started searching for a camp spot. We weren’t in the flattest terrain, but hoped that if we found a flat-ish snow patch we could flatten it the rest of the way with our shovels. We kept climbing until our exhaustion and dwindling light forced us to just pick a spot. At 4,200’ we found a flat campsite, fortuitously, right next to a bubbling spring so we wouldn’t need to melt snow for water.
Since we had already knocked off about 1,600’ of gain and a few miles, we opted to “sleep in” until 5AM and planned to leave camp by 6AM.
First light on Mt Baker, seen from Shannon Ridge
Just as we were starting to skin through the forest, we heard voices below us. It was the first of many groups we would meet on the mountain that day, and they were booting. Choosing to boot in the forest may have been the more efficient option, as Kara’s and my pace was noticeably slower as we wound our way through the trees on slick refrozen snow.
Travel was easier once we reached Shannon Ridge. The slope mellowed and we were treated to our first view of Baker just as the morning light was beginning to illuminate its slopes.
At ~5,000’ the slope steepens. Kara doesn’t have ski crampons. I had brought mine, but in solidarity I chose to start booting with her. We booted from ~5,000’ to 6,000’. The snow was soft and supportive enough that we could confidently boot without crampons, but just slightly too firm (for my comfort levels) to skin without ski crampons.
The views opened up immensely as we gained elevation. The location of Shuksan is spectacular. It sits on the boundary line of North Cascades National Park, offering in-your-face views of Baker to the west and a sprawling, roiling sea of mountains to the east.
When the summit pyramid finally came into view a sense of awe washed over me. It appeared so towering and imposing over the relatively mellow slopes that surrounded it, like a rogue wave rising impossibly high from a placid sea. I said to Kara, “so we traverse around and access the summit from the other side?” The idea of climbing the face we were looking at seemed laughable. It was a sheer wall.
“No, we go straight up this side.” Kara replied. My heart dropped and my voices of doubt chimed in, there is definitely no way you can climb that, it makes Garibaldi look like a bunny hill! I feared they were right.
Our first view of the Shuksan summit pyramid, the route goes right up the middle gulley
We roped up at the big flat area at 6,200’. The glacier was still fully covered and we didn’t see any signs of exposed crevasses along the route but we wanted to be cautious. I put my ski crampons on and started to lead us up the glacier, trying to find the mellowest path, both for my own sake and for Kara who was now skinning without ski crampons on not-quite-soft-enough-yet snow.
The Sulphide has a reputation for being a slog since it’s low angle and long, leading it to feel like an endless march. It lived up to its reputation. We continued to climb but the summit didn’t seem to draw any nearer.
We took an extended break on another flat expanse at 7,500’ and watched as two guys who sped past us on Shannon Ridge arrived to the base of the summit and started to make their way up the pyramid. From our vantage point, they looked like two bugs climbing a wall.
Finally, we mustered the discipline to get up and start the final ~1,000’ climb to the base of the pyramid. By this time many more groups had caught up and were spread across the mountain.
About an hour later, we were at the base of the pyramid with fifteen other people. The two guys we had been watching from below had already summited and were partway down. We watched as they meticulously moved downhill with two ice axes.
The snow was still too firm for good skiing so we hung out and enjoyed the beautiful bluebird day and clear views as we waited. I had pretty much accepted I wasn’t going to attempt the summit block the moment I first saw it in the morning. It was obvious it was still too far outside my comfort zone, especially in its current conditions. It looked too firm for me, a fear that was confirmed by one of the guys who summited and told the group eagerly awaiting their assessment, “I was grateful for my front points.” I would prefer the summit pyramid to have about half a foot of fresh snow that perfectly supports boots and allows for steep but manageable skiing down most of the face. I know that’s asking for Goldilocks conditions, but a girl can dream.
A few other groups geared up to start the summit climb, but it was about 50/50 if people decided to head up or wait at the base.
After over an hour of waiting we started to get antsy. A couple people skied down, and Kara and I decided it was time for us to ski as well.
The first few turns were rough, the top still hadn’t softened enough for enjoyable skiing, but we knew snow on the slopes far below was likely turning to mush (so it goes with spring skiing). As we made our way down the slope, the snow surface changed from firm to soft (I wouldn’t call it corn, though), and back again, so I kept my speed in check and my turns conservative.
The 1,000’ band between about 7,200’ and 6,200’ were the best turns of the day. Dare I say the snow approached a corn-like consistency! But below 6,200’,was grabby mashed potatoes. I was worried about wet loose slides, but we made it through the steepest traverse and back to Shannon Ridge without issue. From there we took a quick break before our short ski back to camp.
Spring skiing at its finest
We packed up camp and, not wanting to put our skis and boots on our packs quite yet, decided to keep skiing for as long as we could. This might have been a mistake. In our glee, following other ski tracks and relishing the fact we were still skiing instead of walking, we strayed far from the main trail. Unfortunately, we didn’t realize this until the consistent snow ran out and we found ourselves in the middle of the forest with no clear path in front of us. I pulled out my GPS and started to navigate us. We tried to keep our skis on and stick to snow patches as we stepped over logs and brush, but eventually we had to take our skis off. We bushwhacked through some alder patches and dense trees. I let my frustration get the best of me in a few of these sections as my skis kept getting caught on branches, yanking me and my comically oversized pack backwards.
Eventually, we fought our way back to the main trail. From there it was a walk in the park compared to the forest gauntlet we had just struggled through.
At 6PM we were back at the trailhead. It was warm, birds were singing, and filtered afternoon sunlight bathed the the forest in gold again. It was almost exactly a 24 hour trip in the backcountry.
Despite not summiting Shuksan, the trip still felt successful. I finally set eyes on the elusive summit that has been haunting me for years. Now I don’t have to wonder what it looks like anymore or what it will take for me to climb it. Now I know. The Sulphide—with its reputation for being an un-fun slog—was actually a genuinely fun ski. Perhaps because I heard the ski wasn’t much to write home about, I set my expectations so low they could only be surpassed, leaving me pleasantly surprised. I honestly think a trip with the sole purpose of skiing the Sulphide is a totally reasonable objective. Finally, the views from the slopes of Shuksan are spectacular. I had thought its proximity to Baker would mean that the views would be similar, but I was wrong. The views were sprawling and unparalleled, and I’m not sure I’ve never seen Baker look so dashing.
This will certainly not be my last trip to the slopes of Shuksan!