The stars winked out one by one as the night progressed. We awoke in gloomy, damp fog near Helmet Butte, ready to just go home, but a brief burst of warmth (a "sucker pocket") promised a thin overcast. We climbed up through the spooky whiteout by map and compass, and were rewarded by getting just barely above the clouds -- one of the most exhilarating climbing experiences.
It would've been much easier in early season, with more snow. Fortress Mtn. summit, 8674', her high mark.
That's Glacier Peak, Gwynnie's favorite volcano.
Dogs are stupid about rockfall, and the upper part is very loose, so there's no way we could've done this if there had been any other climbers on the mountain.
There is this maneuver called the "Corgi Toss", but she got very little help, and that only because we were in a hurry.