Mt. Hood, Day One. Between Timberline Lodge and the White River valley. It was very hot and dry, as you can see. Luckily, this part of the trail was downhill and there was an icy glacial stream to cross below - heaven for a hot hiker.
The sea of boulders I was lost in for a total of two hours. I camped nearby here. This makes me think of holding a handful of sand and staring at the grains. I expect a large red-haired, bespectacled Far Side boy to loom over the ridge at any second, grinning mischieviously, magnifying glass in hand.
At least the view was pretty! The view from the rock valley I was lost in, along Newton Creek.
This is the snowfields section, although you can't see any snow from this angle (I think I'm standing on it). At this point I was cursing the mountain, the gods, and especially myself for taking on this trail. It was really really hot, and up and (not so much) down. The mountain on the right is Mt. Adams and on the left is the monster of the Cascades, Mt. Rainier.
This contributed greatly to the cursing. Like an idiot, I failed to notice the screamingly obvious signs that the snow would be thin; ie, the large hole and the stream both above and below the spot I was standing on. Luckily, nothing broke, I didn't slide down the mountain and it was more of a shallow creek than a body-swallowing crevasse.
Near the same spot as the first picture, three days later. A bit different, eh? I was in a sorry state at this point, whimpering to myself about nonsense and pancakes.
Through my increasing insanity, however, I was still able to slightly appreciate the beauty of the snow, despite my frozen fingers, sleep-deprived brain and wobbly legs.
A bit out of sequence, but eh. This is a shot from the Newton Creek boulder maze up towards Gnarl Ridge. Beautiful, but well named if you're planning on getting on top of it, especially carrying as much weight as I was.
