In short: Jim Prager and I tried to climb the north face of Mt. Buckner this weekend, but the weather shut us down.

We got to the ranger station Saturday around noon and all the camping permits for the Sahale moraine were already taken, so we decided to camp at the Boston-Sahale col and carry over the next day. I was shirtless and sweating on the hike to Cascade Pass, but by the time we started up the talus on Sahale Arm, clouds had descended and we sat out a short rainshower.

We were a bit tired from the hike (almost 6 miles, done quickly with overnight packs), but slogged upwards into the whiteout from the (occupied) moraine campsites to reach the east ridge of Sahale, another 1000' upward. The scrambling up the ridge would have been fun if it wasn't misty, wet, and windy, but now I was eager to just find our campsite. Once over the peak, the col between Boston Peak and Sahale was spooky in the wind and whiteout. Finally, a flat space appeared on the ridge, complete with a windbreak built of the rust-colored rock. We quickly pitched the tent, found a nice alcove to fire up the stove, and brewed up a much-needed dinner.

Before long, the wind increased and the rain started falling. We had only boiled two liters of water for the next day's ration, but the rain drove us back into the tent. In my haste to escape the wetness, I left my stove and pot on the kitchen ledge. Carefully, so as not to dampen my down sleeping bag, I crawled into the tent and threw my wet shell layers outside.

The storm grew stronger through the night. In between bouts of half-sleep, I saw Jim holding the tent walls back from the force of the wind. I imagined my stove blowing down to the Davenport Glacier. When the alarm beeped at 3.30am, the wind was still dousing the tent with sheets of rain. We "slept" until 9am, when the clouds settled down and we were enveloped in a cool, thinning mist.

It was too late by now to climb Buckner and get back to the car at a decent hour, and neither of us felt like climbing in a whiteout. We brewed a quick breakfast (the stove was still there!), stuffed the sopping tent away in Jim's pack, and clambered back over Sahale. We hurried down the trail, but got caught in yet another soaking rainshower at the pass. Despite the weather, we met many people coming up the trail, including a party of four out to do the Ptarmigan Traverse.

Once, through the clouds Saturday night, Buckner revealed itself. That was enough: I know I'll be back to climb it soon.