Mount Adams: The South Spur

I was cruising southbound through Washington in my pickup truck, my best friend in the backseat. I wasn’t entirely sure what I was getting us into at this point, but I knew this was going to be huge for Stella. We were making our way through another starry, summer night in Washington towards the Mount Adams South Spur trailhead. I had researched the route a bit, and knew that there was a legendary camping spot along the way. I figured this would be the perfect place for us to settle in after we got started. Refuel, and take Stella’s biggest summit of all time.

July 14 to 15, 2023

Alpenglow on the drive in, and a butterfly on my glove at the campsite. Good omens for the days ahead.

Beta

• Route: The South Spur (South Climb Trail #183) from the South Climb Trailhead (5,555 ft). Camp at Lunch Counter (~9,000 ft), then climb over Pikers Peak, the false summit, and across a saddle to the true summit at 12,276 ft. We did it as a two-day trip.
• Permit: A Cascade Volcano Pass is required to climb Mount Adams above 7,000 ft in season. (Confirm current rules with the Mount Adams Ranger District before you go.)
• Approach: Through forest burned in a recent wildfire. Shade and water lower down. Morrison Creek is a great cold-water stop before the snowfield.
• Conditions (July): Continuous snow up to and above Lunch Counter. Firm early, softening to excellent plunge-stepping and glissade snow by midday.
• The false summit: Pikers Peak is the steepest section and the classic gut-punch. A loose, steep scree field comes right before the final steep snow up to it, so watch your footing. You crest it only to see the true summit still across a saddle and a frozen boot-path.
• Heat and bringing a dog: The real hazard here was heat, not the climb. Start summit day early and get below the snow before the midday sun. If you bring a dog, the heat at altitude in full sun is dangerous. They can’t shed their coat. Hard-earned lesson below.

The South Climb Trailhead. Trail #183, 5,555 ft, summit at 12,276 ft.

The South Spur route and the snow conditions on our climb, laid out from below.

Camp and a Gonzaga graduation

I woke up the next morning realizing there was no good reason to crush up there way early in the morning. I should get up, make sure Stella was fed, make sure I was fed, hydrate, pack up and go. This was a fairly random weekend in July, mind you, but there was a stunning number of people walking about and telling stories at their campfires. Eventually, a bunch of them gathered in a circle and discussed their climb plan. So most of them were together. I asked what the occasion was, and it turned out they were a class from Gonzaga University. The entire leadership class comes through and summits Mount Adams as a form of graduation. I knew inevitable shenanigans would ensue, and that it was time for Stella and I to take off.

Packing up and grabbing some quick sun while the Gonzaga crew psyched up for their big graduation climb.

The real clever friend of the trip: a squirrel raiding the Gonzaga party’s left-behind goods.

Built for this

Stella is quite the athlete, and truly built for this kind of adventure. She’s white, so she doesn’t get baked quite as bad by the sun, she’s got her built in crampons, laser dog vision, and a strong sense of direction. I was admittedly nervous to bring her along as this was a huge adventure, but I had seen it before. Stories of dogs summiting Baker, Adams, Helens. In fact, I had seen it with my own eyes. I knew it was in the realm of possibility, and Stella was at her happiest in the outdoors. We made our way to the trailhead from the truck, and started on our way.

First break with my girl, just getting started.

Up to Lunch Counter

All in, it was a big day for us. We made our way through a forest of burned trees, totally fried from a wildfire last summer. There was plenty of shade and water along the way as we went. We stayed cool, kept the bugs mostly away, and kept crawling up towards our objective for the day: Lunch Counter. If you’ve ever seen a Lunch Counter sunset, you know exactly what we were in for. The sky dances with a palette of bright purple and pink tones over a line of volcanoes trending south into Oregon. We came across Morrison Creek, and Stella dipped in to cool down. There was still a huge patch of snow hanging around and over it. The water was cool and refreshing. It was time to get ourselves on the snowfield and head on up to Lunch Counter.

A break before the snow, then making our way up toward the snowfield.

The ascent through the snow was pretty cruiser. Stella had no issue, and was probably beginning to question why we were on this mountain so long. Buckle in Stella, we’re going to be here for another day! We finally arrived on the rocks. I always got nervous with Stella on rocks. She was such an eager beaver to get ahead, and she went scampering about on them. She had some times in the past where she skinned her paws a little, so I didn’t want her to have to deal with that on the mountain too. We eventually reached a spot where I noticed a bunch of stone walls built by people to block the wind. We had made it! And it delivered. We made decent time, so I set up camp. I made Stella some dinner, although she didn’t care too much to eat. She is always a bit finicky with her dietary habits, so I was hoping she would cave and finally eat at some point in the night. She wasn’t having an issue with water, but she didn’t want to eat. Maybe a mix of the altitude, weird location, annoyed with me, or just plain attitude. I’m not 100% sure. In the tent I had hoped she would stay close on the thermarest by my sleeping bag, but she preferred the dirt. I wasn’t at all surprised by this. The ground was cool, and she loved to lay on a cool, hard surface at home. I didn’t bother her too much to lay somewhere soft.

Our Lunch Counter break, Mount St. Helens sitting out behind us.

Lunch Counter sunset. Mount Hood to the south, and Helens catching the last light.

Home for the night at Lunch Counter. Stella lounging like she owned the place.

Sweet, perfect Stella, tucked in and asleep with the summit push ahead of us.

The false summit

The morning hit like a rock. It was early, headlamps were already lined up and climbing, and nothing in me wanted to move. I looked over at Stella, who heard me and perked up. Her eyes said it all, “why in the world did you bring me here I want my bed!” I was starting to seriously question if this was a good idea or not. I noticed her that morning favoring a paw again. This was probably the 10th time this was happening. I think something about the uneven rocks was bugging her joints somewhere. But on the snow, she walked fine. Okay, let’s try to get some food down and go. It was a late start by alpine start standards, but we could make it.

Headlamps already lined up in the dark, and Adams throwing its own shadow across the horizon at first light.

We started heading up and I realized it was pretty steep heading up towards Pikers Peak, the false summit.

The push up to Pikers Peak from afar. Increasingly steep snow and a very loose scree field, with the boot path visible cutting up it.

I could feel my heart in my chest a few times. I wasn’t worried about me, though. I was worried about perfect, precious Stella. She hadn’t really voluntarily signed up for this, and I didn’t want to push her too far. We were much higher, but not that far from the tent as the first morning light was cresting over the horizon.

Alpenglow breaking over the steep snow as the first light hit.

I couldn’t live with myself if she started sliding or something down this slope. I checked on her, just below me and following as the most loyal friend around, she was having no issue climbing in these conditions. She let out a few small whines. Business as usual for any shepherd owner to endure, and I didn’t put much thought into it. I figured she was on the same line of thought as me. “Why are we doing this, I’m hungry, it’s kind of cold, kind of hot, why are we doing this, when do we get back to the truck?” We finally reached the false summit, which was no small feat on its own. At one point I did opt to clip Stella into my harness just in case. But that was the steepest section we faced on this climb.

Stella and I made it to Pikers Peak, the false summit. No small feat on its own.

We rested at the top of Pikers Peak. Ahead of us lay what we knew would be a doozy. A huge drop back into a huge volcanic saddle, a walk across a skinny snow bridge (not hanging dangerously over a crevasse, think more of a frozen bootpath), and the final summit push. I checked Stella’s paws over with our spare time. Crap. She had scraped one of them. That could not feel good. I had also made the mistake of forgetting moleskin in the beginning of the climb, and I had worn the back of my right heel clean off in the first couple miles.

Okay so we are both down kind of bad on the foot and paw health. But we are almost there. The hard work was over. The sun was coming up though, and we needed to go. If we timed it right, the steep stuff would be nice and soft for us to race down back to our tent. We shared some words and stories at this common rest point of Pikers Peak, snagged a few pictures, and sent it. Let’s finish this.

12,276 with my best friend

Stella and I crossed the frozen boot path. Our silhouettes reminded me of a shot from Ice Age. Her doggy shadow trailing just behind my two legged one.

Walking the frozen boot path, with the easy final push through the scree just beyond. Her shadow trailing mine, straight out of Ice Age.

It was cute. She was a good dog. I was so impressed by her resilience and loyalty. She stuck by my side no matter what and without question. Who could ask for a better friend? Ah, and we were in luck. The final summit push was a mix of rock, dirt, and snow. We even found some fresh running glacial water, and Stella powered up. This was just what we both needed.

Staying cool near the top, still smiling, with the Oregon Cascades lined up to the south. Hood, Jefferson, and the Sisters from 12,000 ft.

We topped out on the huge, football field expanse that is the summit of Mount Adams.

Stella claims the true summit of Mount Adams. 12,276 ft, on her own four paws.

Stella had one of her moments where she sat down, tired, but looking around in the distance. She was totally unbothered by the other climbers. The scale of what we had done was setting in for the both of us.

The scale up there is hard to convey. Those tiny specks are climbers standing at the top.

The old dilapidated shelter where Stella and I stood, and the football-field summit stretching out with Rainier in the distance.

12,276 ft with my best friend in the whole world. There’s not much better of a feeling than that. I can’t explain how proud I was of her on this day. She was hurting, and she still pushed through and stayed with me no matter what. It was a moment for her that she was able to take in and enjoy from the windy summit. I have no idea what it feels like to be a parent, but that sense of pride in watching Stella accomplish this gargantuan task made my eyes fill with tears. I knew I was pushing her. And that was a lot different than pushing myself. But Stella stayed on it, moved forward, and didn’t leave my side for a single moment the whole way from the tent and back.

Beat-up paws, and she still made the true summit. I love her so much.

The descent

Stella taking it all in, then letting me know in no uncertain terms that it was time to descend.

The descent went off without any issues. We got back to the water again and Stella drank what equated to roughly one fourth of the glacier. She was hydrated at least. And now the snow was softening up. We crossed the frozen boot path. It was like something out of the elephant graveyard in Lion King. There were all these melted sun plates and spikes in the snow around it. It was really cool how the ice and snow formations were structured in this saddle.

Looking back toward Pikers Peak and the frozen boot-path saddle, with a clear shot of Helens on the way down.

We got back to Pikers Peak. We had some more chats and rested just a touch more, before making our way down the only part I was really still nervous about, the south face of Pikers Peak. Boy, the sun was starting to hit. You could feel the rays. And wouldn’t you know it, the snow was soft now. We were cruising. Stella’s paws were digging right in just as my boots did. I kept her clipped to me on the steepest section again just in case she got overzealous. But we made it back down and onto the rocks with no problem. Stella had a big smile on her face and quickly made her way over to the shade of the still-standing REI Half Dome (ye olde faithful, if you will). I chatted with some of my neighbors as I packed up. We talked about the heat. One mentioned how his dog nearly had a heatstroke one year and he had to rush down off the mountain he was on. Huh, I hadn’t really thought much of that, but it was something to definitely keep in the back of my mind. I was really feeling the sun now.

A hot mistake

After packing everything up, the sun was just about overhead anyway, and I took the tent down. Stella wasn’t too happy about this and gave me a bit of a mug, which was understandable. We were on the dirt at this point around 9,000 ft, and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. A serious oversight and realization was setting in as Stella licked up her water bowl and started panting: today was forecasted to be one of the hottest days of summer yet. At sea level this didn’t mean that much. 9,000 feet closer to the sun was a different story in a coat of fur. I hadn’t even considered the heat for her, as it’s just something you deal with out here. But she couldn’t shed her layers. Shit.

With a newfound sense of urgency, I slung my pack on my back and got us moving down the snowline quickly. In full sun, we were dealing with different struggles now. I still didn’t have a pair of legitimate “glacier goggles” and my eyes could feel it. Stella had the squint game down for this section, but anyone who has spent 10 minutes in direct sunlight knows that this sucks. Okay girl, don’t worry, we’ll be off the snow asap. I don’t remember how long this took, but we finally made it down to some of the scrambly rock sections with dirt and trees. I knew my girl was getting hot, and she was taking advantage of every shady spot we could find. I felt awful for this mistake.

After a few short stops under shady trees, I had us push for Morrison creek. I knew if we got there, it was glacial cold water she could roll around in, cool off, and get more hydrated. We came cruising into this section with some of the Gonzaga folks filling up water. In a rare moment of being inconsiderate, I got right in the creek near the ice and had Stella follow me in. I started splashing her all over with the cold water and removed her harness. I knew this didn’t make any sense to her, and I imagined that she had a few words to say to me for this act, but I know it was actually cooling her down. I made sure her paws and legs got nice and cold. She did eventually lay down and let the cool water flow under her. This was a relief for me, but I knew I wasn’t out of the woods yet, literally.

We had a decent section of the trail still left. Most of it dusty, burnt down, sun-exposed forest trail.

One last volcano shot on the way out, framed by the burned forest.

I was really worried. Things happen when you least expect it, and this was a massive mistake on my part. We should have summited way earlier in the morning and made it down before the sun was directly overhead. I didn’t know what was better or worse, so I began running shaded spot to spot, and allowing Stella to rest at each one. I finally made it to a section under a tree in some shade that had a big patch of flowy grass. I knew that would feel cool, and so did Stella. She plopped right down on it and laid down. I checked my map. We were so dang close to the trailhead. If I could just get her to the truck that would mean water, food, shade, and air conditioning. She needed it, but I didn’t want to push her and make it worse being so close to the end. I gave her 10 minutes. She deserved every second. And I wasn’t going to let anything happen to her at this point. If I had to fireman carry her I would. I started walking slow to see if she was ready to follow. She gave me an earnest sigh and huff, and got up to follow. Bet. Let’s finish this thing baby.

We cruised down a nice little breezy section fortunately and I beelined it over some rocks and logs and around some tents through the campground straight to my truck. I opened all the windows, got the truck going, cranked the A/C, and lifted her in there a moment later when all the stale, hot air had moved out. She was in the shade now, with breeze flowing through the open doors. She was breathing good. Her gums and paws looked a healthy pink color, not inflamed or red. I felt better but didn’t think we were good for sure yet. I made sure she had tons of water and kept putting the bowl right up to her snout. She drank a lot, and so did I. That heat had been quite an ordeal. A lifelong lesson for me for sure: consider all conditions and all party members in those conditions.

Onward

I took care of my trash, got out all my water reserves from the bed of the truck, pulled out my snacks, and started to close up the truck. We were ready to go. It was a humbling experience for how incredibly stupid I had been for waiting on summit day until later to start. But it was one of the proudest dog dad moments of my life. I felt closer to Stella than ever. She was with me through thick and thin, and I with her. She conquered a volcano in Washington, something 99.99999% of dogs in the world don’t do. I would never forget this trip, or the time spent on a glaciated volcano with her. Despite the struggles and worrisome descent, it was an incredible and successful trip. Stella slept like an angel the entire car ride back. Very deserved.

Fast asleep on the ride home. She’s an angel, and it was very deserved.

She also spent a couple days on the floor of the apartment between bed and cold hardwood lounging. She moved only to go up to the rooftop for a bathroom break, and then back to her slumber. She got all kinds of juicy canned food and human food this week.

Another volcano done, Stella now with one under her belt, and on to the next objective. I have a scheduled plan coming up to do another objective with a friend soon, so I am looking forward to that. Stella has opted to sit out the remaining volcano trips. She told me she likes the lake days better, and I respect that. We’ll get her back up on some K9 scrambles soon. Onward.

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