Over the Blast Zone and through the Boulder Fields: A Loowit Circumnavigation

Loowit Circumnavigation (Single-Push)

Mileage: 32.25 miles

Elevation Gain: +7549’

Date: 30 June 2019

Total Elapsed Time: 13 hours, 29 minutes

This was my first circumnavigation of a stratovolcano, and, oh my, was it wonderful. I spent a week or two reading trip reports and studying maps; decided on our trailhead entry point; second-guessed it; and rerouted at the absolute last moment. After much deliberation, I decided that we would begin at the Climber’s Bivouac trailhead. This would put us through the largest boulder field and the blast zone before it got too hot, plus it helped strategically set up our water options for later in the day. Feeling sure of this plan, we arrived at the parking lot the night before; had a few too many drinks for people who were going to run around a volcano early the next morning; and tucked into the back of Jen’s car for a little sleep.

Up before dawn, we were on trail as the sun rose above the horizon. Part of this early section links up with the winter summit route, which I had done in May, and with Jen the year before. It was neat to see what lay beneath the snow that I had traversed just a little more than a month earlier.

We hit the first big boulder field before long. It’s part choose your own adventure, but there are some helpful poles to mark the way. We had GPX tracks as well as a good sense of direction, so we managed to navigate this quite easily.

I had read countless trip reports that talked about how difficult it is to navigate the boulder fields and the blast zone; about the insanity of the gullies we’d be going down and back up; and about the scarcity of water. I never want to take trip reports with a grain of salt, and thus potentially minimize the endeavor, but our experience proved to be quite unlike what others reported. The trail was easy to keep, or to find if we veered briefly; the routes through the gullies were obvious, complete with ropes for hauling yourself out; and we never were wanting for water sources. It’s better to be prepared for the worst, but we laughed a bit at how over-prepared we were.

That’s not to say this route isn’t challenging; it’s certainly a rugged 50+ kilometers, and we spent over 13 hours out there, but we found it pretty manageable. It’s quite incredible to circumnavigate a volcano. You see it from every angle, and you pass through so many distinct ecosystems en route. While others take 2-4 days to work their way around, there’s something to be said about going in one push, taking it all in with one big breath.

Making it through the boulder field, we zoomed down through a forest toward the first gully. We marveled at the glacial rivers emerging from snow and ice above, making their way down the flanks of the mountain. Fording the first big river called on me to summon better balance than I’m typically capable of, as we leaped from boulder to boulder, whitewater rushing below.

Having ascended out of the first set of gullies, a gentle trail welcomed us to run through wildflowers and ogle pristine views of the mountain. This was one of my favorite sections, ambling through at a little lope and soaking in the beauty of this place. You could sense the blast zone ahead on the horizon, so that also filled me with anticipation, eager to greet the unknown.

Running through the blast zone is like running on a lunar landscape. There’s no other way to describe it. Debris, rubble, boulders—a mix of every type of rock size and texture you can imagine—carpet the ground, while the gaping hole in the mountain’s side looms to the right. On our left, Spirit Lake shimmered in the warming sun. We ended up walking through much of the blast zone; it was just too incredible to move through too quickly. We were a little dumbstruck by it, imagining the power of the eruption and landslide that sent this mountain sliding down in a rage and shooting into the atmosphere. We paused to find the summit and noted how wild it was to be looking up at the place where a year before we stood looking down. A former student once said to me, “I like the view from below best, because it lets you see where you’ve been.” I always recall her words when I’m standing below something I once stood upon; I think she is on to something there.

We had a brief navigational dispute crossing the blast zone (I won’t say who ended up being right), but we eventually climbed up and out from that weird and wild world. As we traversed up and over Windy Pass, we paused for one last glance back at the blast zone before heading on toward the Plains of Abraham. Here, the route treated us to sweeping views to the east, with Klickitat making another appearance. We had a nice chat with some campers, one of whom pumped us for information as he contemplated doing the Loowit Trail in one push himself. “Do it!” we said.

This side of the mountain had its own series of gullies, asking our tiring legs to ascend and descend a bit more than we were looking for at that point. Fortunately, beautifully runnable sections punctuated them, and the sun’s intensity had abated for the day.

Once more, we entered a boulder field, and I did a great job of finding all the unsettled boulders. We came across a woman who appeared to be having trouble staying on route. We tried helping her get a sense of the trail, and she tried to follow us, but she couldn’t keep up. We explained how to follow the poles that marked the trail, and then we pressed on.

Loowit had one last gigantic climb before we could call it a day. Jen was less than amused by this point, so I had to prod her along. As the sunlight softened into that magical hour, we returned to the spot from which we had started some 13+ hours before. It felt like quite an accomplishment, and we smiled, reflecting on the experience. It certainly whet my appetite for future volcano circumnavigations, which, to my great fortune, are not in short supply here in Washington.