Volcano Skiing

This May, I traveled to the US to present my research at the ILAS 2026 conference. During a free afternoon, I went on a small excursion with Esther, a good friend whom I met at the G2S3 Summer School two years ago in Ecuador. We hiked a short section of the Appalachian Trail that led to Dragon’s Tooth, which was very pleasant.

However, in order to get the most out of this opportunity, I once again managed to delay my return by a couple of days to embark on an adventure. After climbing a 6’000m/20’000ft high volcano in Ecuador in 2024 and summiting the 7 southernmost 14ers in the Sierras in less than a week in 2025, I opted for a ski touring project this time. No place is better suited for spring touring than the majestically glaciated volcanoes of the Evergreen State, Washington.

As usual, I pitched this idea to Nathalie, with whom I have shared many great adventures and who was immediately on board. This time, Nathalie not only enriched the experience with her presence, but also recruited her friend Xander, a very experienced skier, trail runner, and climber from Seattle, to join the team. Xander put together an unforgettable program for the extended Memorial Day weekend.

The days before

As one usually does while anticipating great mountain projects, I obsessively checked the weather forecast every free second in the days leading up to the big weekend. It did not look promising. At all. From Sunday to Tuesday, the forecast called for mostly clouds, rain, and wind. Hence, Xander proposed sacrificing Saturday, which we had intended to use for sleeping in and preparing for the ski tours, in order to tackle a first major objective.

A great plan. Except that the rental store in Seattle, where I had reserved a pair of skis, would not hand them over without adjusting the bindings to my boots, which, given that my flight arrived on Friday night at 11 pm, was entirely impossible. Fortunately, Xander managed to organize his dad’s touring setup for me on short notice, which kept the dream of an early start alive. And early it would be.

Mount Baker

22km | 2’350m+ | 9h30 GPX Strava

11:19 pm. A sigh of relief escaped my tense lips when I saw my suitcase slide down the conveyor belt in the arrivals hall of Seattle’s airport. Every minute counted, because the alarm clock was set for 1:30 am. I quickly rushed over to the inn where Nathalie was already sleeping in preparation for the big day ahead of us. The alarm clock hit us like a sudden pain. We grabbed our belongings with tired eyes and squeaky voices and were soon picked up by Xander.

Xander is similar to me in many ways. Coincidentally, he is also an applied mathematics PhD student, together with Nathalie at MIT. He is also passionate about endurance sports, mountains, and maps, and used to race competitively on skis when he was younger. Thanks to him and his caring parents, who hosted us for two nights at their house, our days in Washington were as pleasant as imaginable.

After more than two hours of driving, we finally stepped out into the mild spring night and hastily walked up the forest trail toward Mount Baker. Distracted by the beautiful sunrise colors, we transitioned to skinning.

With the gigantic ice sheet covering Mount Baker in sight, we set one ski in front of the other and slowly made our way up the Squak Glacier on the south side of the mountain. Moving at a rather rapid pace, we must have passed around eight other rope teams, and we saw many more coming up the Easton Glacier.

Incredibly enough, Mount Baker is an active volcano: sulfur-smelling steam is constantly released from its caldera.

We combined our inspection of the massive caldera with the transition to boot-packing for the final steep section: the Roman Wall. While this feature is by no means technically difficult, I do have to admit that I started feeling the previous 2’000 m (6’000 ft) in my legs.

From the summit, we had beautiful views in all directions: Vancouver near the Canadian border to the north, Mount Shuksan to the east, and Mount Rainier towering over the southern horizon.

We skied down the Roman Wall and then descended the long and beautiful Squak Glacier back to where we had left our boots in the morning. Back at the trailhead, we drove down to Baker Lake, where we spent the afternoon relaxing and recovering from the short night and long day. We had a tasty dinner at a Thai restaurant, and in the evening we drove to the Cascade Pass trailhead, where we camped for the night in anticipation of our next objective.

Sahale Mountain

30km | 2’050m+ | 10h GPX Strava

Sleeping in until 4 am was a true blessing. A short breakfast delayed our start by only 20 minutes. The low-hanging clouds allowed only occasional glimpses of the impressive Eldorado and Johannesburg peaks.

First along the still-closed road, and then on the trail to Cascade Pass, we undertook the long approach to the Sahale Glacier. A bit above Cascade Pass, the clouds began to dissipate and gave way to a radiant early-summer sun and perfect blue skies. The region is gorgeous, and at times it looked as if we were in the Alps.

We continued traversing a slope that drops steeply down toward Doubtful Lake. In the middle of this traverse, one of Xander’s skins suddenly came off. Since the adhesive side quickly became covered in snow, there was little hope of easily reattaching it. Luckily, we had some duct tape, which we readily used to fix the skin and continue our way toward Sahale.

In a moment of inattentiveness, my pole fell over and started sliding down a steep slope. But being too lazy to descend a bit and retrieve it, I left it where it was and attacked the steep summit slope with only one pole. After a while, we transitioned to boot-packing and eventually topped out via the very steep and exposed final pitch, finishing with a few easy scrambling moves onto the tiny summit plateau.

From up there, the view was stunning. It almost felt as if I were back home in the Alps.

After enjoying the beautiful views in all directions, we set up a rappel and soon started skiing again. The moderately steep slopes, soft spring snow, beautiful surroundings, and fast turns together with Xander made this descent particularly memorable. I light-footedly straight-lined across a thinly covered crevasse to retrieve my pole before we completed our descent.

The lower we got, the more people we encountered. It turns out that the trail to Cascade Pass is very popular, although some visitors did not seem appropriately prepared for the steep snowfields that must be crossed to reach their objective. After a while, we came across a particularly well-dressed and soft-spoken park ranger. He asked us where we had been and briefly inspected our backpacks to make sure we had not camped in the wilderness, for which a permit would have been required. He warned us that a bear and her cub had supposedly been blocking the road earlier that morning. (Un)fortunately, the animals were long gone by the time we walked down the road and finally reached the parking lot.

Due to the unfavorable weather forecast and our legs feeling the effects of two long days, we decided to squeeze in a rest day, and Xander kindly invited us to stay at his parents’ place. On the way, we enjoyed a delicious milkshake (apparently a tradition for Xander after his outings in the North Cascades) and drove into Seattle. We were treated to a beautiful view of Mount Rainier rising behind Lake Washington.

Once we arrived at Xander’s, his parents already had dinner prepared, and we filled our hungry bellies with a delicious meal of salmon, rice, and asparagus, followed by a tasty strawberry-rhubarb tart for dessert. We enjoyed an entertaining conversation, discovered many interesting things about one another, and overall had a great evening before finally sinking, tired and exhausted, into our beds.

Memorial Day in Seattle

Coincidentally, our rest day fell on Memorial Day, a federal holiday in the US that commemorates the soldiers who died while serving in the country’s armed forces. After enjoying some delicious pancakes for breakfast, we headed downtown to explore Seattle.

We visited the Farmer’s Market, a cozy place where tourists willingly part with their money in exchange for overpriced souvenirs. Some of the market stalls also display enormous fish for sale. In addition, there is a unique alley whose walls are covered in chewing gum, turning it into a colorful piece of public art.

Once the rain set in, we took one of the ferries to get a look at Seattle from afar. After stopping by Qdoba for lunch, we returned home to finalize our preparations for the final tour.

Little Tahoma and Whitman Crest

28km | 2’540m+ | 10h30 GPX Strava

Ring, ring. 2 am. One last disgustingly early alarm clock. But why? It rained throughout the entire drive to the White River area on the east side of Mount Rainier. Even when we arrived, fog and clouds filled the valley and dampened our jackets with a gentle drizzle.

Yet undeterred by these unfavorable conditions and the pessimistic weather forecast, we followed the recently reopened Wonderland Trail, dodging a few trees that still blocked the path here and there. At some point, Xander decided to follow the riverbed to avoid crossing the river farther downstream.

A great strategy, as it held a pleasant surprise for us. All of a sudden, the clouds thinned out, and standing before us was a gigantic, luminous, and intimidating volcano: Mount Rainier.

We admired this exceedingly beautiful mountain for a while before transitioning to skinning. A slightly awkward gully led us to the Summerland meadows. From there on, we steadily gained elevation, chased by the threatening layer of clouds rising behind us. All the while, we enjoyed magnificent views of Mount Rainier.

We soon reached the saddle between Little Tahoma and Whitman Crest. The sea of clouds on the other side was stunning. We could see Mount Adams rising well above the clouds, while Mount Hood greeted us from distant Oregon.

We traversed onto the southeast face of Little Tahoma, which is covered by a moderately steep glacier flowing down a broad gully. Skinning up was quite difficult, as a hard layer of compacted snow was covered by a few centimeters of wet snow. The tricky conditions quickly found a victim and, in the process, broke one of Nathalie’s bindings. But as a wise man once said: every problem on a ski tour can be solved with duct tape and a few zip ties. The binding was therefore repaired rather quickly. The strenuous climb was rewarded with some of the best skiing of the weekend, accompanied by spectacular views.

Xander then came up with the brilliant plan of following the glacier, crossing a small moraine to ski down yet another glacier, and finally completing the loop by summiting Whitman Crest. Exhausted but determined to give one final effort, we followed the plan and soon stood on the summit of Whitman Crest.

However, the view was disappointing. In the meantime, clouds had engulfed the entire mountain and visibility had dropped to zero. We cautiously searched our way back down the glacier as if we were beginners. Anyone who has experienced a whiteout on a glacier knows how disorienting it can be: you cannot tell whether a crevasse lies a meter ahead of you or if there is only snow. In some situations, it is even impossible to distinguish up from down.

Eventually, we rejoined our ascent track and skied back the way we had come. Unfortunately, by then, the thin layer of fresh snow that had covered the landscape in the morning had been completely consumed by the rain at lower elevations. As a consequence, the descent became more of a battle than a pleasure. Nevertheless, we made it back unharmed and cheerfully followed the Wonderland Trail down to the car.

What I appreciated most about that day was that we did not encounter a single other person during the entire 10.5 hours we were out. A true paradise!

We concluded the day by grabbing a smoothie at a national park store before driving to the airport, where we parted ways with a happy and fulfilling goodbye.

Reflections

These four days in Washington exceeded my expectations in every possible way. The wild national parks, the unique terrain features of the volcanoes, and the stunning views in every direction undoubtedly qualify this region as one of the best places for ski touring.

In many ways, I was surprised by how similar ski touring in the Pacific Northwest is to ski touring in Switzerland. There are a few minor differences. First, as in the Sierras, soloing is quite a bit more common than it is in the Alps. I find it difficult to explain this phenomenon. Since weather forecasts and conditions can vary greatly and people tend to prioritize work quite highly, it might simply be harder to find someone who is available on the same day as you are.

Second, the average US skier is more talkative and polite. People will almost always ask where you have been and are more than happy to wait on the other side of a narrow trail section to let you pass. I like that.

Third, people seem to resort to boot-packing much earlier than skiers in the Alps would. The best example was the Roman Wall on Mount Baker. Despite the slope being only around 30° steep, nobody skinned up it, even though it would have been easily possible with ski crampons. Perhaps for the same reason, some ski rental shops do not provide ski crampons along with rented skis.

For the first time in my life, I was not the one reading the map. In fact, I only had a very rudimentary mapping tool at my disposal and therefore had to place complete trust in Xander’s ability to guide us—which he did exceptionally well.

As in the Sierras, we completed several long days on very little sleep. I have noticed that sleep is not quite as crucial for me as I once thought and that my performance is not noticeably affected by a sleepless night. While I normally aim for nine hours of sleep every night, it is reassuring to know that my body is fairly resilient to sleep deprivation. It certainly makes me dream of a few ambitious summer projects.

Sitting on the plane to Seattle, I was overwhelmed by a feeling of guilt. The weather forecast was not looking great, and I suddenly realized that the flight was not going to take two hours, but six. I had completely forgotten to account for the time-zone difference. In hindsight, it was absolutely worth it, but I cannot imagine how terrible I would have felt had we not been able to experience these amazing tours.