Scrambling the Tatoosh Range
(Photos below)
July 2, 2005
We set out to attempt a version of the Tatoosh Traverse, probably one of the most satisfying peak-bagging routes around. The Tatoosh Range is located on the southern edge of Mount Rainier National Park and it abuts the Tatoosh Wilderness. From the popular visitor sites on the southern side of Rainier, the Tatoosh Range is jagged and prominent. We were aiming to summit seven peaks--Pinnacle, Plummer, Denman, Lane, Wapaneyo, Chutla, and Eagle--in a long day of scrambling that would take us from Reflection Lakes to Longmire. We ended up getting only the first four and retreating back to the trailhead at Reflection Lakes. Here's the story...
We hit the trail at 6:00 a.m. and were at the Pinnacle Peak Saddle, 1.3 miles up, shortly thereafter. At that point the true scrambling starts. Pinnacle proved to be a more serious rock climbing than we had expected, made less enjoyable by the loose crumbly rock that is the signature of the Tatoosh. Nevertheless, we made the summit with little difficulty. Unfortunately, the weather was steadfastly refusing to cooperate. We were shrouded in heavy fog (and were for most of the day) which made route-finding more difficult than it should have been.
From the top we had absolutely zero view. We returned to our backpacks that we had left at the saddle and set our for Plummer Peak, which is a straightforward heather-and-snow walk-up. We made the cloud-masked summit at 8:00 a.m. Bizarrely, our primary guidebook 75 Scrambles in Washington says that you return to the Pinnacle Saddle before tackling peak #3, Denman. This is not true--something we would have realized if we had been reading our map more carefully. So we returned to the saddle, picked up our packs, and retraced our steps just underneath Plummer en route to Denman.
Denman is the easiest of the scrambles--really just a walk-up. We hit the summit at 9:00 a.m. with a stellar view of fog. After a little map and compass work we figured out where Lane Peak was and set off. At this point, the fog broke up a little and allowed us territorial views of Cliff Lake below and some of the nearby ridges and slopes.
At Lane Peak, Jill decided to take a pass on what is reputed to be the most challenging of the seven peaks. Wrapped in layers and lounging on a ridgerest she waited while Eric made an attempt. The route up Lane is a steep approach followed by a steep climb up a gully. The climb up is reasonably straightforward, though it helps to be confident in your rock-climbing balance as about every tenth rock pulls away under your hand or foot. At the top of the gully, just as Eric was wondering whether he could get back down the way he came up, he found a recently constructed rappell anchor, suggesting that some visitors to Lane Peak don't like the looks of the descent anymore than Eric did. Gulp. From the top of the gully, the route turns left and quickly tops out on a narrow boulder pile. From that vantage point Eric could see, well, nothing but the inside of a cloud. After a nerve-wracking descent (also for Jill who was hearing consistent rockfall from above), Eric was back to Jill for a snack at a little after 10 a.m.
The route to Wapenayo is the crux of the Tatoosh Traverse. Until that summit--number 5--you must return the way you came. It also appeared to be far less well-traveled than the four peaks behind us. Moving slowly forward, consulting the map and compass frequently, we edged along under the long subsidiary ridge toward Wapenayo, not at all certain that we would find the route that we were looking for, as everything was still foggy. (In clear weather it would likely be a piece of cake to find the route, which leads to a saddle between a satellite peak and the main summit.)
At this time, we heard marmots whistling on a distant boulderfield. Jill noticed them. As Eric was looking for them, he heard rockfall and saw what appeared to be a large brown marmot. He then blurted out one of the stupidest things that has left his mouth recently: "Yeah, I see one. It's a really big marmot." In his head he was actually thinking: that is the biggest marmot I've ever seen in my life. It was, in fact, a bear, something that Jill quickly pointed out and has not yet stopped recounting to friends and family.
The cinnamon-colored black bear hurried away from us and was quickly swallowed up by the fog. A few minutes later, following the bear's path into the clouds we decided to turn back. We had much more scrambling to do, but we were almost certain not to have any views today and were likely to spend a good chunk of the day staring at our map and compass.
We returned the way we came, but traversed below the summits. Eating lunch and enjoying the peaceful mountains we were assailed by a large group of "mounties" bearing gigantic packs (only the second party we had encountered) who for some inexplicable reason felt compelled to shout constantly--sending out urgent warnings to one another about the gentle snow and rock slopes they were descending from Plummer Peak. "Hey there's a trail!" one would shout. "A trail?!" another would respond. "This snow is slippery!" shouted yet another. "Be careful!" Later, as we descended along the trail we could see them bumbling up the slopes of Denman and we could still hear their cries echoing off the mountains. Ahh, the wilderness.
We'll be back to try the Tatoosh Traverse again--but in good weather. Our decision that day, however, was the right one. The range stayed socked in the rest of the afternoon. Not until the following day did it emerge in all its stunning and rugged clarity. Drats.
The trail leading up to the Pinnacle Peak Saddle. Paradise is visible in the distance.
On the summit of Pinnacle Peak, Eric wishes he'd had his morning coffee before tackling this scramble.
Jill on the summit of Plummer Peak.
Our heroes on the summit of Denman Peak, wishing the clouds would burn off so they could figure out exactly where Lane Peak is.
Eric turns around en route to Lane Peak. The approach to Lane (on the right) is partially visible behind him.
An avalanche lily.
Looking up the steep gully that is the route to the summit of Lane Peak. At the top of this gully, someone had set up a rappel anchor, suggesting that it is a little on the hairy side for scrambling.
A view off the shoulder of Lane Peak.
Can you find the bear in this picture? (Hint: It looks a lot like a big marmot.)
The parkland was abloom with avalanche lilies. Also a hypnotic magenta paintbrush, pink and white heather, and dozens of flowers we have yet to learn.
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