It was just a small cut on the side of my palm, yet I was surprised with how easily the granite tore through it. Still, I held firm, peering thousands of feet down a near-vertical cliff; it was pretty scary on the north side of the Enchantment Peaks. A little more poking around would reveal a bedding area for mountain goats, nearly every inch of the ten foot ledge covered in goat pellets. The wind ripped up the side of the mountains, causing a cacophony of rock slides all throughout the valley. The mountains crackled with the noise.
Our camp for the first night, staring up at Mt. Colchuk, the Colchuk Glacier, and Dragon's Tail.
We retreated, the thrill of discovery still pushing us towards the top of the ridge line. I was pretty confident that if we could just find a way around the peak, we could hike along the ridge down all the way down to Prussik Pass, putting us back on the trail (and back to camp). After searching around for a while, we realized that we had spent the better part of an hour scrambling into a long-winded dead end. We decided that reaching the top was enough - we would go back down to camp.
The area's wildlife is infamous for their curiosity and fearlessness.
Or...I spotted a smooth granite chute that extended down for about fifty feet. The angle wasn't steep at all - we could probably slide down on our butts, bracing our boots along the sides all the way to the bottom, putting us a short hike from our tents. Jayson took a quick peek and agreed - here was our short cut.
Jayson shoots while a family of mountain goats lounge nearby.
Jayson and I had originally intended to spend this day doing two day-hikes. In the morning, we would climb 1300 feet to the top of Little Anapurna. After lunch, we decided to hike up another thousand foot peak to see if we could find a ridge hike along the Enchantment Peaks. Our rule was not to climb (or descend) anything if we didn't know where it ended. We could see the bottom, so we weren't too worried about climbing down this chute.
The view from one of the pit toilets - a million dollar view.
Jayson stopped about half-way down his shimmy. "Hmm. I don't want to go this way anymore." The descent had pitched perhaps another degree steeper, but against the granite, it was enough for his boots to lose their grip. A second, gentler chute started about 4 feet to his left, but it would mean he'd have to launch himself over a dome of rock. Miss, and he slides all the way down.
I watched nervously as Jayson braced himself. Using his right leg, he pushed off his back, briefly straddling the dome while his hands searched for some kind of purchase. He slipped, sliding downward on his belly, but his hands found a ledge and he hung their briefly, feet kicking under him.
I called down to him. "There's a crease just a foot under you. Just let go and you'll slide to it." Jayson let go and landed. Turning around, he began to descend down the rest of the way.
Going into the sun up Aasgard Pass.
Sometimes when you are hiking up, the angle of a hill is long and steep enough to actually conceal a higher peak above - a false summit. The same thing can happen going down. Jayson was at the end of our chute - he should have been at the ground - but instead he turned up and asked, "Hey...what's the highest distance a human being can jump down to and not be hurt?"
My heart sank. "How high are you?"
"Oh...ten feet?"
Not a huge distance, but then again - I looked at my hand and at the granite all around us. You did not want to land on this shit.
Before I could respond, Jayson jumped. A moment later, I could see him walking on solid ground - "I made it!"
Quickly, I made my way down the chute. It wasn't until I was halfway down did I realize how dangerously stupid this was - a fifty foot slide followed by a bed of sharp granite isn't exactly how I wanted to end this day. But Jayson did it - maybe it was only six feet up? Maybe he was exaggerating?
When I reached the edge and looked down at the top of Jayson's head from about four feet up. Jayson pointed to a small patch of dirt among the rocks. "Just jump here."
My mind flashed back to the day I quit playing basketball. I had hurt my knees many times before; ligament tears, ripped meniscus, etc, so on that day I was playing careful. A shot was missed and I lazily jumped up for the rebound. Landing, my right knee wretched itself out from under me. As I lay on the ground and watched my kneecap pop back into place, I realized that not a person touched me and that was only a one foot vertical. I hung up the high tops after that.
Sunrise over the Enchantments.
Hitting that spot of dirt, a good four feet out, would have required a much higher distance. There was no way in hell that I was jumping.
So we sat there: Me, trying to decide if there was any way possible I could climb back up (there wasn't) and Jayson, pointing to that spot on the ground like I was Kerri Fucking Strug.
Our campsite area up in the Enchantments zone.
Eventually (with Jayson's help), I was able to lower myself down to a much more manageable drop. We hiked back quickly, a bit numb and shaky with adrenaline. We had taken on something a little bit more than we can chew and were none the worse for wear.
The view from the top is certainly sweet.
"You know - that was pretty stupid." Jayson laughed. I continued, "but on the otherhand, we would never have seen the other side. It was awesome."
And that was the Enchantments, exactly the type of adventure I was hoping for when we hit out for our four day trip - a hard and rewarding hike, breath-taking scenery, tons of wildlife, and some stupid fun with a good friend. We'll have to do it again, soon.
Jayson atop Little Anapurna with Mt. Rainier in the distance.
Complete Photoset
Trail Info
The Carbon River Glacier.
(it was a bit foggy that day)
