We were up at 4am and faced with a decision shortly after. I packed for the climb while the others packed for the descent. The Hummels' tent did little to support my cause. I'd see it flat thinking they already took the poles down and the next second it would be upright, poles in place, though slightly bent. Somewhere between my laughter and stubbornness, the others reconsidered. Josh's final excuse was that he had no stuff sacks for his gear. I couldn't believe that we were about to give up a first descent for lack of stuff sacks but no joke, this was what it came down to. After rearranging my leftovers, I spared him some space in mine.

The climb to the col gave us all a boost. Dressed and moving, I often feel as though I can withstand any weather.

The wind died down and visibility improved on the north side of the col. Our first obstacle was a 45-degree chute that led to the traverse. The snow was firm but edgeable. I wasn't sure how Bill would perform with the steepness and exposure but at times, I felt more confident in his ability than my own. Below the chute, we traversed right on more 45-degree corn.

The majority of the traverse was spent on skis including a substantial drop at the beginning, middle and end. We took our skis off at the base of the middle drop and had a few rocks peg us during the huddle. Bill's list of bad signs was nearing completion so he was ready to turn around. I saw no reason for things to get worse and the Hummels weren't quite ready to give up so we packed our skis and continued the traverse. Several hundred feet of steep scree led us to the final drop.

The North Face was now in sight but getting to it proved difficult. Upward visibility was limited to a couple hundred vertical feet but everything I saw looked skiable. I tried to convince the others to climb whatever could be skied even if it meant turning around short of the summit. Unfortunately, my turns on the final drop were anything but convincing. I made a left turn that lasted a good portion of the drop. "Yee ha!" Jason attempted to side slip but that landed him back in the moat. This drop was 50 to 55 degrees and would have been a good spot to fix the rope that I carried but neglected to use. I'd rather not comment on the exposure.

Once on the face I made some futile attempts to convince the others to downclimb or rappel but they were more concerned about the hidden objectives so… my group was reduced to me, myself and I.

Trading skis for crampons and poles for ice axe, I started the climb. I reached the clouds within minutes and lost sight of the others shortly after. I knew the right slope ended so I traversed left to the narrow, intimidating chute. There was an icy runnel to my right but plenty of space to turn on the left so I continued.

The chute was 40 to 45 degrees. It opened up after that but was slightly steeper near the top. After pulling the final lip I had to turn and look down to make sure my climbing ability hadn't exceeded my skiing. Sure enough, it was well within my limits.

The summit was a short scramble up the ridge. I carried my skis for no other reason than to carry my skis.

Ah, this must be it. Indeed, the summit register. What's this?

Whoowa! Remember the folks we saw on the summit the previous day? Well, not only had three women climbed a 9,000ft peak by themselves; they climbed it by themselves naked. My timing with the snowpack was bad, timing with the weather was worse, but missing three naked chicks by a day just plain sucks. The weather was hardly conducive to join in their festivities but it gave me a chuckle nonetheless.

My mind was elsewhere so I ended up missing the ridge by about 45 degrees. A disorientated traverse led me back to where I belonged. I could hardly believe that I was about to ski the insanely steep and narrow slope that I had seen the previous day. Was it the clouds? The women? I'm not in heaven am I?

The first turn was as real as it gets. The snow was soft and smooth although I had to take it slow to avoid getting caught in my sluff. In a way, I'm glad that it was cloudy because I feared seeing the fate of falling. The snow turned firm and bumpy as the slope narrowed.

I'm tempted to exaggerate but it wasn't that bad. Sure, there were plenty of rocks but after skiing three routes through the base of Mount Adams it felt like a groomer. I felt sorry for Bill and the Hummels whose fear was completely unaccounted for. What was I to tell them? It's a joke, let's do it again… Or… You made the right choice, let's go home.

The skiing got progressively worse as I exited the clouds. Bill and the Hummels witnessed the last few turns and after catching my breath, I told them everything they didn't want to hear. "It's a joke, let's do it again." Yea, but… yea, but… yea, but. "Ok, let's go home." It seemed that none of them wanted it as much as I did which made me feel better about doing it solo.

The climb up the final drop was, as expected, the sketchiest of the day. Oddly enough, this was the only section that I felt it necessary to have crampons. Bill and the Hummels went ahead and as we continued the traverse above the middle drop some significant rockfall came between Josh and I. Afterwards, Bill put his crampons on and the Hummels followed suit. I teletoed the remaining uphill and finished the traverse on skis, well ahead of the others. Bill managed to crampon the entire distance.

It's unfortunately that the weather turned to crap because I feel that is the main reason why Bill and the Hummels called it quits. I'm sure they'll be back next year to discover the truth. As was, we managed a few turns below camp and the cool weather was welcome in the trees.

On a final note, we approached via the west ridge as described in Selected Climbs in the Cascades, Volume II. It seems the crux traverse could be avoided by approaching from the east ridge as described in Beckey's guide. This would also add several hundred vertical feet of 30 to 40-degree snow. Look for more beta in next year's trip report.

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