I don't remember where exactly I first heard the phrase "Fortune Favors The Bold" -- a proverb that traces its origins back to Virgil and The Aeneid -- but it resonated with me. It's what I try to tell myself every time I do something that scares me. And I haven't regretted any of the things that I've done that scared me. Usually, I was glad I took the chance and did them.
Fortune Peak, a relatively obscure mountain in the Teanaway Forest of central Washington, seemed a good choice for my 100th summit. Not that climbing 100 unique mountains makes me any different than climbing 99 mountains, or 101 mountains, but to me it was symbolic of how far I've come as a climber over the past 8 years. Either way, I wanted my 100th summit to be something special. According to some recent beta, Fortune Peak was skiable, and easily doable in a day trip from Seattle, so I went for it.
I left Seattle around 07:00, and, after a momentary traffic jam in the omni-construction-zone of I-90, I cruised over Snoqualmie Pass to Cle Elum, then up about 20 miles of dirt roads (easily navigable thanks to Google Earth) to the trailhead. I chatted with some climbers heading for Mt. Stuart and started up the trail to Ingalls Pass about 10am.
After about 40 minutes of hiking, the trail disappeared under the snow, and I continued cross-country up through the trees. I met a woman hiking with her boyfriend (both probably in their 40's) and exchanged friendly "hello's," which somehow led to one of us making a comment about being Colorado, which led her to persist in telling me her life story for the next hour or so as we hiked across the snowfield.
The Teanaway Wilderness
They split off towards Ingalls Pass, and I cut across some rock bands leading in the direction of Fortune Peak. The terrain was roughly split between rock and snow, so I didn't bother to start skinning until I saw a relatively long, consistent snow slope leading up towards the ridge.
I put on my skis/board (I'm really curious as to the proper term to use when in touring mode) and started up the snow slope. I was instantly in heaven. Aside from the fact that I was no longer postholing with a snowboard on my back, there's something incredibly calming about skinning up a slope. I bought my splitboard, ironically, the year that winter never came (screw you, House Stark), but after my first day out -- New Years Day in Mount Rainier National Park -- I was hooked, and knew that snowboard touring would become a big part of my mountaineering life.
Fortune Peak in the distance on the left from just below the ridge
After about half an hour or so, I came to a point above a small bowl and just below the rocky spine of the east ridge. This part was mostly enjoyable class 2 scrambling, with maybe a couple of class 3 moves. Even though I wished I wasn't carrying my board, it was still fun.
Above the rocky ridge, I put my skis/board back on and skinned up the final 300-400 vertical feet to the summit. I reached the summit just before 14:00. I dug the beer out of my pack that I'd brought to celebrate and shoved it in the snow while I took some photos and transitioned.
It was a perfect bluebird day. A gentle breeze sent chills down my sweat-soaked back as I sat on my pack and enjoyed my celebratory Belgian Pale Ale and the views of the jagged black peaks adorned with sporadically crisscrossing lines of white-blue snow. Mount Rainier stood proudly in the distance, thinly veiled behind the faint afternoon haze.
Summit beer with South Ingalls (left) and Mt. Stuart (right) in the background
The descent started easily enough. I followed the mellow slope down the ridge, skirted the snow past the rocky outcrops on the rim of the bowl, and then embarked on about two minutes of pure transcendent ecstasy, carving down the soft snow. The slope mellowed out as I reached the bottom of the south face, and I rode it as long as I could, dodging trees and shrubs poking out.
I still had a ways to bushwhack out through the forest, vaguely aiming for the Esmeralda Trail. I wasn't exactly sure where it was, as I'd never been to this area before, but I was confident I could get back to the trailhead. Still riding that euphoric high from the awesome turns I'd just made, the bushwacking didn't bother me.
One of the many streams in the Esmerelda Basin drainage network
Four years ago, the idea of being in the wilderness without an obvious trail or route description to follow would have been intimidating. I'm not sure what I was afraid of. Maybe the overly-cautious attitude prevalent on 14ers.com got to me. But after hiking all over the mountains surrounding the Gunnison Valley in Field Camp and a summer of trudging through the dense Northwestern forests fighting wildfires, I'm pretty confident in my ability to navigate the backcountry and get where I need to be.
And, just like that, I ran right into the Esmerelda trail about 1/4 of a mile from the parking lot.
The icing on the cake of the snowboard tour to the summit of my 100th mountain waited for me at my car. After the sweet relief of taking off my pack for the last time and changing from soft-shell pants and snowboard boots into shorts and Chacos, just as I was ready to head out, I found a note left on my car.
Spoiler alert: I didn't call the guy. Not that I wouldn't have, but at that point I just wanted to head back to Seattle and have a nice quiet evening. It made me laugh, and I really did think about it for a second. I get it. Guys think solo female backcountry snowboarders are hot.
This isn't the first time that I've been hit on (kind of?) for being a woman who doesn't give a fuck, who just does what she wants to do and lives how she wants to live. But I try not to think too much about it. I just live my life. I don't have many regrets.
View from the summit of Fortune Peak
I don't believe in fate. But I think that you have to be willing to take risks, to venture into the unknown, to be able to find whatever it is that you want in life. Fortune favors the bold.
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