Day 3: Houston, We Have a Problem.

June 28, 2020. Granite Pass back to the damn beginning.

Rain, ice, snow intermixed all night. Not good because the existing steep snowfield has gained more liquid weight. My two risks are 1)sliding downhill fast with a backpack; and 2) avalanche.

I figure I can manage the first risk. I have microspikes for my feet and an ice axe. If you’ve never seen it, the process involves kicking in a horizontal footstep, poking the axe in the snow uphill, and then kicking in the next horizontal step. I’m pretty sure I could self-arrest. Just not sure how far down I would go and, if I’m honest, whether I’d have confidence to move again.

The second risk is out of my control. When a cornice or sheet of snow decides to give is a decision made by science and God, neither of which I fully understand.

It was cold, snowing and I was by myself. I felt like the risk was too great. My Dad was still in the state, so maybe he could pick me up where I started and I could try a different point to continue hiking. I sent him a satellite text saying I was bailing. I packed up and, tail between my legs, headed back the way I came.

Astute readers may recall this course of action would require me to go back through Satan’s trail. I was not happy, but without alternatives, it had to be. The one difference was the weather. Because of the continued rain, the brush and scree would be wet. Also because of the continued rain, I was still wearing my base layer leggings with my wind pants on top. Maybe my scarred legs would fare better.

My strategy was to stay uphill on the scree as long as possible. To make a long story short I did go a little faster and my legs were not scratched as much. However, the trail did take its toll by relieving me of my hat, water filter, and water bottle at different times. Glancing back up the valley at the continued tempest, I knew I made the right call.

That stream crossing at the missing was slightly more difficult late on a rainy day. The rain and snow melt raised the level of the icy water. Once I was safely across I made great time down to find my Dad in his 1990 VW Westfalia van. The 20 mile bail out from 6,000′ to 2,500′ was over.