Nearing the end of our PNW roadtrip, Adam and I had slightly different goals for these last few days. I would have preferred heading back to Oregon for two of the tougher county highpoints, including North Sister which we had failed on at the beginning of the trip. Adam preferred to stay in Washington for Baker and Mt. St. Helens. In the end we compromised, agreeing to climb St. Helens today, and the North Ridge of Jefferson in Oregon the following day.
Mt. St. Helens had never gotten onto my radar. In the pre-explosion time before 1980, it was 1,300ft taller and the highpoint of Skamania County. With it's reduced height, the county highpoint was moved to a liner on the side of Mt. Adams on the far eastern end of the county. Mt. St. Helens still has considerable prominence, but much less than the 6,000ft it once enjoyed. Since the eruption, permits have been carefully controlled, limited to 100 per day and must be purchased at least 24hrs in advance through the Internet. We had declined to get permits for both Adams and Rainier and would do the same for Mt. St. Helens. We had no idea how much or how little the mountain is patrolled. Our simple plan was to start early enough that no ranger was likely to stop us, and deal with whatever consequences might result if we encountered a ranger on the descent - the same plan we used for Adams and Rainier. We would use the standard route on the south side that ascends Monitor Ridge, the only trail leading to the crater rim.
We were at Climber's Bivouac at the end of Forest Road 830 (from Woodland on I-5, take
SR503 east to Forest Road 83, then to Forest Road 81, finally Forest Road 830) sometime
after 5a. It was sufficiently light by the time 
we started
at 5:45a that no headlamps were needed. Starting at an elevation of around 3,700ft, we
encountered 
a mix of snow and clear on the initial trail through the forest
south of the volcano. 
Sunlight began filtering through the trees as
sunrise came just before 6a. Part of the Gifford Pinchot National Forest, the Volcanic
National Monument was established in 1982 by Reagan and includes the volcano and
surrounding lands. We entered 
the monument only a few minutes from the
trailhead and spent the next half an hour making our way through the forest before
starting to 
clear the trees. This is roughly the 4,800-foot level, the highest
point one can climb legally without a permit. There was no one else in sight when we
started up the restricted zone, mostly covered in hard, frozen snow.
The boot-tracked trail had disappeared as previous climbers were all over the map (or
in this case, the slope) in chosing a route up the snow. Hard as it was, the snow was
somewhat slippery, more so as the slope steepened. Ten minutes later we came across two
other climbers ahead of us, looking to be a bit stuck on the slope. They were in fact
moving, albeit slowly, due to lack of crampons and the need to check traction with each
step. We had crampons and axe but left them in our packs due to laziness - it seemed that
once we got up this 50yds of slope we could get back on rock and do without the crampons.
We fared better than the other two, probably due to a bit more experience on such
terrain. Adam was off to the right 
climbing ahead of one of the others while I
made an ascending traverse to the left to get on the rocks sooner. Periodically,
wooden poles marked the route up Monitor Ridge (presumeably so named because
of the scientific monitoring 
equipment set up along the route), sometimes with
pink flagging to make them more obvious. We climbed up this mix of 
rock and
snow for the next hour, stopping for 
a break just once and hardly
slowing. Of the two climbers we passed, the younger one had kept 
on our tails
nearly from where we first met them, the other somewhere far behind. As we climbed
ever higher we had fine views of 
Mt. Hood to the south and
Mt. Adams to the west, both in the far distance but plainly visible.
Around 8a we were still about 500ft below the crater rim but had run out of rock and
tractionable snow. Though more than an hour in the sunshine, the snow ahead was rock
hard and growing steeper. The ridge had run out of rock. We paused to get out our
crampons and axe. The young climber, perhaps not 19yrs old, caught up with us and was
contemplating the route ahead. He had no crampons or axe and was dressed as if he had
only planned a short hike in the woods, yet had impressed us with his stamina and ability
to keep up. He asked us about his chances for continuing on as he looked
enviously at the gear we pulled from our packs. Wanting to give him a chance to reach
the summit, I offered him the use of my axe. Though hard, the snow was not icy and the
crampons would bite nicely into the surface for adequate purchase without the security
of the axe. Our new friend was reluctant to take gear from me that I might need for my
own safety, but after sufficient reassurance he was happy to see if this might help him
succeed. I gave him a very short lesson on the use of the axe with point and tip for
different angles of ascent and 
he started up
before we had finished with our crampons.
It was evident from the start that the axe might not be sufficient and it could make for
a sketchy ascent. Adam then spoke up and offered that he had a spare crampon in his pack
that our friend could use. Who carries a third crampon in their pack as a spare? Adam,
apparently. Another bit of help in putting the crampon on correctly and he was
ready to go - this was enough to get him to the rim.
It took only twenty minutes for the three of us to climb the remaining distance to the
crater rim. This was not the highpoint - that was still a short distance to
the west - but the first views from the rim were stunning. Below us was the snow-covered
lava plug that was still building itself up, more than 30 years since the big
eruption. 
Steaming vents were evidence of the 
continuing activity
inside the volcano's core. 
Beyond the plug, a full mile across the crater rim,
was the breach in the north side of the mountain through which poured destruction in the
form of liquid earth created from the mixture of volcanic rock, earth and
instantly-melted glaciers. Several miles to the north was 
Spirit Lake
which I had first seen on a visit in 1992. The heat-stripped logs of the denuded forest
were still visibly floating in the lake, though they are slowly sinking with time and
decomposition. Much further north rose 
Mt. Rainier and a mental image of what
further destruction that mountain might wreak if a similar eruption were to occur there.
A short distance west was another climber who had come to the rim some time before us. We had not seen him ascend ahead of us. Our friend was satisfied with reaching the rim and expressed no interest in reaching the highpoint. Adam and I started west in the direction of the summit, but I soon returned to retrieve the axe I had loaned to our friend as I might need it for the steeper slopes on the summit ahead. The weather was quite fine and we expected the snow to soften quickly over the next hour, making the descent safer, even without the axe. We left him with the single crampon, saying we'd retrieve it when we caught up with him on the descent. As a backup, we described our 4Runner to him and told him he could leave the crampon on the vehicle.
It took another 20 minutes 
to traverse the crater rim with a modest drop to
a narrow saddle before 
reaching the highpoint just before 9a. There
were no tracks in 
the snow near the summit, but since it had snowed some in
the last few days, this didn't say anything about when the last visitor had been to the
top. It may have been a day, or several days prior. We didn't walk too close to
the edge lest there might be a cornice that could break off. We hung around
for about five minutes taking 
pictures and enjoying
the views before deciding to head down.
Rather than return along the rim, we chose to descend more directly, down
snowfields to
the west of our ascent line up Monitor Ridge. The snow had softened up nicely by now and
made the descent both faster and more enjoyable. What had taken two and half hours to
ascend took us less than an hour and a half to descend. Because we were out of sight of
the Monitor Ridge route for much of the time, we did not see the other two climbers
that we had left at the rim during the descent. We rejoined the
original route near the base of the mountain where we encountered more than a
dozen 
other climbers on their way
up. It was 10:30a by the time we were onto easier ground below 4,800ft. As we made our
way back along the trail through the forest, we came across a park ranger carrying a
shovel on his way up. Uh oh. As we approached, he asked casually, "How was the summit?"
Thinking this was an intro to ask about our permit, I decided to head this one off
quickly by responding, "Oh, we didn't go to the summit. We just came out to recon the
route to the base of the mountain." This seemed to work as we passed each other without
stopping and without further comment. I doubted he believed me, but what more could he
say? Surely I will go to hell someday.
It was 11:10a when we returned to 
the trailhead,
making for an outing of about 5.5 hrs.
We looked about the 4Runner to see if the third crampon had been left by the young
climber, but found nothing. We hung around for almost an hour, wondering what had become
of him. I found his older climbing partner at one end of the parking lot, milling about
the tent they had set up the night before. He too was wondering where his companion
might be, having gotten back several hours earlier himself. I gave him my contact info
so that the crampon might be mailed back to us some time in the future. Back at our own
car, Adam and I started second-guessing ourselves as to whether we should have loaned
him gear to begin with, and whether taking the axe back at the summit could have
contributed to his delay in returning. We would spend the next several days conjecturing
about what had happened. Should we just leave? Go look for him? Were we legally or
morally responsible for him if he should have been injured? We never did get solid
answers. We know that there were no reports of an injured climber in the days following.
But there was also no word from either of the two and Adam never got his crampon back.
I had neglected to get their contact information, thinking it a simple matter to
return a borrowed crampon. And so the mystery was left unsolved.
As it was barely noon and we still had plenty of energy, we decided to see if we couldn't
tackle something else. Having no maps or plans ahead of time, we had only our memories
and the GPS to work with. Fortunately these would suffice. I'd recalled that there was
a Goat Mtn somewhere in the vicinity of Saint Helens that was a county highpoint. A
check of the GPS found two significant Goat Mountains, the one we were interested in
being fairly close by, on the same network of Forest Service Roads that we had used to
reach Climbers Bivouac. We used the GPS to navigate a series of increasingly
deteriorating forest roads until we were within a few miles of the summit and had run
out of navigable road. Our 
starting point
was not the best - later we found there were
TRs at cohp.org that described the shortest route, less than a mile from the summit. But
ours would work.
Goat Mountain is the highpoint of Cowlitz County with a prominence of just over 2,000ft.
There is no maintained trail leading to the summit, so we expected this could be a tough
bit of bushwhacking in the typically dense undergrowth of the PNW temperate rain forest.
We started off on an old overgrown logging road heading north and traversing the west
side of Pt. 3,472ft. Not all logging roads show up on the GPS's maps, and not all those
shown continue to exist, so it was a bit of guesswork to patch together the least
brushy route to Goat Mtn. After about a quarter of a mile we left the road to
climb uphill in search of a second road that was shown to traverse along the
ridge NE of Pt. 3,472ft. This was a short bit of steep, desperate scrambling up loose
dirt layered with pine needles, but we soon landed 
upon the road we so much
hoped would be there. It too was overgrown and had not been driven on in many years, but
it was still 
serviceable for hiking and we followed it to 
the saddle
on the WSW side of Goat Mtn. This we found later was the start for the shortest approach.
A cleared road headed north from here and with some circuitous driving would eventually
lead back to Forest Road 81 which we had forked off from.
At this point we were less than a mile from, but still some 1,500ft below the summit and
prepared ourselves for a difficult bushwhack, much like the assault on Buck Mtn we had
done earlier in the week. Like that previous effort, we soon separated as we each tried
to find the route of least resistance, neither finding a particularly advantageous
route. But about five minutes after starting up from the saddle I came upon the first
of a series of 
orange flaggings that marked a route up the mountain. I called
out for Adam to come join me. These were a
godsend, turning out to be the work of enthusiastic county highpointers that had forged
a use trail up the mountain, marking the route and doing some key grooming and clipping.
It changed the effort from slightly desperate to 
steep but easily managed. We
made good time following 
the marked route, and 40 minutes after first spotting
the flagging, we had reached the south summit. There is a fine view of
Mt. St. Helens attained at this
point to the northeast, a spectacular one at that. Goat Mtn has three summits, it turns
out. The south summit is clearly the lowest and we paused only a moment before heading
north for another five minutes to 
the middle summit. Here we found
a benchmark and 
summit register left by 
Richard Carey in
2005. We also learned that there was an
alternate highpoint about 15 minutes further north somewhere through the trees. The
visibility was good only looking east to Mt. St. Helens, the other point had to be taken
on faith. We might have pressed on further to visit both points if we hadn't gleaned
from the register entries that the middle summit was probably the highpoint.
Having had more than we had bargained for already as we were now getting rather tired,
we decided this was good enough. We had a short break for a rest and a snack before
starting back.
The return went faster in part because we followed the flaggings all the way back to
the saddle. The flags actually gave out within about 200yds of the saddle, but it was
not hard to find our way down through this more open section and we even found
a crude sign that had been tacked to a tree to mark its start.
We were back to the car by 4:20p, and not five minutes later
starting back down. Our plan to climb Mt. Jefferson the following
day meant that we needed to use the available daylight to drive south into Oregon,
getting reasonably close for an early start the next morning. A couple of stops at the
thrift stores
we spotted from I-5 along the way helped break up the drive. Adam was
again looking for used camera gear that could be resold on Ebay at a profit, but
nothing of value was found. We took a room at the Motel 6 in Salem, one of the worst we'd
ever stayed at. The typical clientele were not among society's most productive members,
and even 
the female ones had Adam and I a bit nervous. It would prove an
eventful evening on this 4th of July...
There is an alternate route up Goat Mtn that could be worth exploring. About five minutes up from the saddle at the start of the use trail, we came across a newly built trail traversing the west side of Goat Mtn, not shown on any of the available maps. A TR we saw later suggested this trail starts on the south side of Goat Mtn along Forest Road 81. This would be an excellent way to climb Goat Mtn with a low-clearance vehicle since any car can navigate the well-graded Forest Road 81. Exactly where to find this starting point is a bit of a mystery, however.
Continued...