We left the trail in mid-afternoon. It was becoming pointless anyway, since the late May snowpack was so extensive by the time we reached 6,000 ft. that following the trail was nearly impossible. We struck off straight uphill through the dense fir forests in the soft snow, sinking at times nearly to our crotches. But by nightfall we'd made it to 7,200 on the SE flank, the trees were mostly below us, and there was a great sense of open space all around us. That night it rained, then froze, and we weren't all that comfortable under our plastic tarp suspended between two big Mountain Hemlocks. Dawn came very early, so close to Summer Solstice, and the Sun's very first rays began to warm our camp while the entire lower world was still in chilly shadow. We climbed into the brilliance of fresh snow upon the treeless upper mountain. We amazed ourselves by setting off two small avalanches as we ascended the SE Bowl. By 8 a.m. we scrambled onto the summit ridge, eased past a big, dark gendarme (see link to pic), and strode onto the broad expanse of the extinct volacano's 8,744 ft. summit.

Our goal, to find the summit register. Luckily, there was a small weatherbeaten post sticking up through the deep snow near what we judged to be the highest point, and a little digging with our ice axes soon struck the weathered gray metal of a typical mountaineer's summit register (see pic above). Inside, the journal soon revealed that we were the first up the mountain this climbing season-- or at least the first able to locate the register!

Geocaching: This new sport seems to me to be a high-tech activity that draws its inspiration from the grand old tradition of mountaintop summit registers. You fight, you struggle, you endure bad weather and bugs for the prize--- a link to other similar travellers of the out-of-doors, both past and future. You read of their journey, you enjoy the surprises of their little leavings, and you carefully compose a few lines for future readers to hear of your journey. At the time, it probably never occurs to you that this one day in Time may be the only time in your Life that you stand here with this opportunity to say something for others about this adventure you have had this day.

The geocache site shown to the left is located on the side of a store just outside the entrance to Fort Stevens State Park, on the north Oregon Coast.