The Lost Boys set out to climb St Helens this April. We all grew up in the same small town, hadn't hung out in years, and planned our first mountain all winter via group text.
We got one of the last sets of permits before the year filled up, and climbed the first day of the season.
Andrew and I drove from Richland to a campsite near St Helens, arriving around 1am. We nearly got blocked by a closed road that wasn't mentioned on any status sites, but thankfully it was open and we crashed for a few hours.
The parking lot at the trailhead was full of tents, teardrop campers, Mercedes, and skiers. Everyone was making coffee, waiting for the pit toilet, or getting gear together. A few folks came down off the mountain, having left early like "real" mountaineers.
We decided after a lot of deliberation to leave our snowshoes behind. They were all old and heavy, and after talking to folks coming off the summit, the new snow at the top wasn't thick.
The whole experience was addicting, painful, and wondrous.
Next, Adams. Then Shasta. Then Hood, then...