[Katinka]

. Despite its stinky name, this is a drop-dead gorgeous and dynamic hike to a 7,200 foot summit. Be ready for 5,350 feet of gain in the 5 mile ascent and A LOT of exposure as you near the summit. None of us had ever done this hike, so we didn't really know what to expect. For those with vertigo, like me, or those skeert of heights, the ridge walk and scramble up the rocky summit can present a major challenge. In fact, I got so terrorized by the two narrow rock ledges we had to cross that I almost gave up the summit - and would have if not for the encouragement of some very kind strangers. Here's a pic from the north - not the side the trail climbs - showing the ridge and the strikingly conical summit.

Pugh

The road to the trailhead at 1,900 feet is gentle and in excellent condition - you could bring a sports car or clunker up without worrying about clearance. It's easy to cruise right past the trail sign, as we did, because for some reason the road continues past it (as well as a few turnouts for parking) to a rather pointless turnaround about a quarter mile further on. Four of us from my hiking/climbing group, OSAT, got our start at 8:00AM.

Trailhead

The trail climbs steeply but cushily through a picturesque and mossy forest. We kept remarking on how well-maintained it was.

At 1.5 miles the trail meets Lake Metan, a little spring-fed jewel that, in contrast to everything else this year, wasn't at all low. To the right is a single sweet campsite on the lake - a perfect place to set up if you want to make an overnight of this. (I don't know that the spot would always be as bug-free as we found it.)

At Lake Metan

Heading left, the trail climbs by steep switchbacks through mossy forest slopes that drop sharply below.

Boulder

Occasional large boulders dotted the way until, at about 5,000 feet, we emerged into an expansive boulder field with a look up to Stujack Pass, where the trail continues to the ridge.

Boulders and Stujack Pass

Steep remained the name of the game all the way up the pass, though the trail was still in great shape. Up here the blueberry bushes had turned to spectacular shades of red and orange.

Climbing through blueberries

These are LEAVES, not flowers, though it's hard to believe

Nearing the ridge

Eventually, we reached the ridge and walked for some time with a steep drop to either side.

Looking down at glacier remnant, steep drop

Up, up, and up

All was groovy for me on the ridge walk UNTIL we hit the ledges. By ledges, I mean that the trail narrows to about a foot-and-a-half-wide shelf in some places, with a rock wall to your left and a thousand-plus foot drop to your right. I have chronic inner ear troubles, so most of my balance is visual and tactile, and with NEITHER available on these 20-foot stretches of extreme exposure, I was sh*tting bricks. My adrenaline shot up and before I knew it, I was a trembling mess. I told my group what was happening to me, but vertigo is a solo nightmare. They could do nothing to help. So, after we crossed the small, gravelly saddle shown in this pic, I decided not to climb the summit cone itself. I sat down out of the wind on a rocky part of the trail and told my group to go ahead.

Me, center, scared shitless

But my wait-out spot sucked, and the wind blew, and the rock was cold, and I couldn't open my pack without worrying it would tumble away and down the drop-off. I longed for a chopper and dreaded having to cross those ledges again. "Why do you DO this?!" I berated myself. After about 10 minutes, though, a rosy-cheeked, cheerful girl came down the trail and asked why I was there. "This, right here, is the hardest part," she told me brightly. "If you can climb around to above where we are now - though that's a little scary, too - then there's pretty much a trail for the rest of the way." Her companions showed up and concurred encouragingly. At the same time, a solo hiker, Michael, approached us. Since he had only a shoulder-bag and no pack, I asked him if he'd be willing to carry mine, just til I could get above where we were. He kindly agreed. Once I was up there, I knew I could summit. Michael kept my pack until we caught up with the rest of my group, chatting amicably all the way. Our leader, Normand, wasn't at all happy to see me. He assumed the high-exposure scrambles ahead would freak me out as much as the ledges had and reminded me I'd promised to stay in the sh*tty spot. But scrambles are NOT scary for me, even with a lot of exposure, because I don't have to rely on balance.

Easy scramble here - safe enough to take a picture!

So I did fine from then on, and before we knew it we were at the summit. ...Where there were no fabulous views of Glacier Peak or anything else, because we were almost completely socked in.

Gorgeous view of Glacier Peak NOT behind us.

Andrew on the summit

Now came what I was dreading - the trip down to... the ledges. But they turned out to be easy for me because of two blonde trail angels - Debby and her sister Kristy. We'd been passed by Debby several times on our way up - a girl who climbed this steep grade as effortlessly as if she were on roller skates. More than once we passed her as she sat waiting, she explained, for her sister Kristy, who had told her to go ahead. At the summit we chatted with them and learned this was Kristy's 5th time on Pugh's summit, and Debby's 3rd. I wasn't frightened a bit on the scramble down to the saddle, despite a lot of exposure. Crab-walking works in a pinch. But as my dread caught up with me near the ledges, so did Kristy and Debby, who had left the summit after we did. In each of their voices was the ease of someone walking their Basset hound down the street to the corner hydrant. Just listening to them calmed me. So I told them about my vertigo, and I asked if they'd be willing to walk, one in front of me and one behind, until we were past the ledges. So Kristy went ahead of me and Debby, taking my pack, went behind. I crossed the first ledge chatting with her, trying to pretend it was nothing but a narrow sidewalk - and that one was DONE! But conversation died out as we approached the second, which I knew to be longer. So I asked Debby, my voice wobbling only a bit, "So how many kids in your family altogether?" "Five girls!" she answered, and proceeded to tell me a little about each of them. I narrowed my focus to her calm, cheerful voice and the touch of my right hand on the rock wall, just putting one foot in front of the other, until.... before I knew it, out I stepped onto the flat ridge-top. "Holy f*cking sh*t!!" I shouted. "Holy Sh*t!! It's done, it's DONE, I DID it!" We all laughed. And then we headed down the mountain, me high as a kite.

Heading down

Briefly clearing skies

The day before I had been worried about a thousand types of piddledy-sh*t that clutter up my life. They were all blasted away by the joy of having crossed those ledges. Sure, I still had bills, but I hadn't plunged to my death, so who cared? All my perspective was reset. What matters matters, what doesn't doesn't. Thank you Mount Pugh! One more little after-adventure involved an active swarm of hornets about 1/4 of the way down from the boulder field to the lake. We came across first this sign...

Thanks for the $1 warning!

... and then, our leader, Normand, got stung, and everyone started to run except me. Normand was stung three times and took a header trying to swat and run. "Get up! Get up! Run!" I heard the others shouting. I was alone on the wrong side of the nest, and I could see the swarm cloud right over the trail. But after the ledges...? What-evs! I RAN through the swarm and on for another 200 feet, unstung. Woot! Then we all had a great story to tell, of a great trip with all sorts of adventures.

A look back

[mtn.climber]

Maybe Normand deserved a couple of stings after doubting your abilities. Great job powering thru your vertigo!

[Katinka]

Lol. We actually teased him that it happened because earlier he'd gone off-trail and tromped some vegetation to pose for a photo on a rock wall of the pass... In fact he did also get stung a 4th time further down where there was no nest. Hmmm.

[Jetlag]

Excellent trip report! Thanks for specifying the crux spots for vertigo on this hike. You wrote well about your fears and trail angels. The hornets are late this year, but I'm seeing more of them on every trail.

[Katinka]

Thanks! Here's a photo I found on a 2007 Summitpost trip report of the view down from the part that freaked me. How the guy took this pic is beyond me! View from one of the ledges

[DIYSteve]

Great TR

[wolffie]

try it on 6" legs when you're 67.

[Katinka]

Lol - if ONLY I had 6" legs, those ledges would be way easier!

[Brucester]

"Vertigo is a solo nightmare." I hear that! For me talking helps take my mind off of the steeps when I'm with others. But since I usually hike alone I focus on the best hands-on route on exposed routes. Having four points of contact seems to help. Since I fell off a ladder years ago, I have a hard time dealing with exposure. Stuff I could have easily done in my 20's seems to give me trouble now in my late 40's. Pugh has been on my list for awhile now, I'm sure it will be a challenge. Maybe I'll do it on a cloudy day. Thanks for posting your honesty.

[tmatlack]

Great TR. Love to hear the "Average Josephine" stories as well as the uber-climbers on the forum. The ledges are scary, but in spring conditions there can be a yawning moat or burgschrund right below them, and looking down into that blue-blackness of death, especially solo, is heebie-jeebies times two. I too have developed vertigo in weird situations as I crested 50...big indoor spaces like empty gym floors or rooms and log/small bridge crossings over water. Stupidly difficult. Tom

[littlebit]

Great trip report. Way to push through the fear. Your writeup captures one of the big reasons I keep going back for more: perspective.

[chefothefuture]

Great TR. Pugh was a "gateway" peak for me LOL! Hopefully you will find other adventures and vistas that will dazzle. I will admit that I seem to get the dizzies more than before....

[Katinka]

Thanks, guys, for your encouragement! Brucester, if your vertigo is anything like mine, it's probably best you do Pugh with a friend or two - and people with a spot o' compassion, just in case.