"We won't forget this one anytime soon," said Doxey, describing our upcoming trip to Eldorado Peak in the North Cascades National Park. Yes, he admitted in typical understatement, the approach is kind of steepish, but the views have been described as some of the best in all of the Cascades. Besides, though he said he'd never climb it on a weekend, our Thursday departure didn't count as the weekend, and he'd never said nothin' 'bout coming out on a weekend.

I had been intrigued by Eldorado for a while and had included it on my short list, but my interest waned after reading and hearing about the pain and suffering involved in getting there. According to Jim Nelson and Peter Potterfield in Selected Climbs in the Cascades, the approach "goes straight up from the road and gains 5,500 feet of elevation before the high camp is reached…. Newcomers to the range may find these approaches unreasonable if not brutal, but climbing Eldorado is a good barometer of one's fitness level and route-finding skills." (p. 146). I was feeling pretty good about my conditioning and my navigation ability and didn't really think I needed Eldorado's unreasonable and brutal help in that regard. But when we learned that our intended climb up the Kennedy Glacier on Glacier Peak was not feasible, we had little time to switch gears, and Doxey's enthusiasm for Eldorado was contagious, like a flu we couldn't fight off. The night before I poured over the map in a feverish sweat, desperately seeking an intermediate camp in case Eldorado ended up teaching me something I didn't want to know during the 5,500 foot grind to the basecamp.

We assembled early on Thursday morning to get a jump on the day. Our group consisted of Doxey Kemp, Adam Gravley, Mike Schut, Steve Short, Phil Shimke, and me. None of us had attempted Eldorado before. I was eager to tell anyone who would listen that I found a lower camp area on the map, and that even Fred Beckey had agreed, referring to it as "good" camping. My relief was complete when the climbing ranger in Marblemount confirmed the existence of lower camps. In fact, the 5,500 climb was to a high camp on a flat part of the Inspiration Glacier just below the final summit ridge. Thanks for telling us Nelson/Potterfield. Most people camp a couple thousand feet below in or just above the Eldorado basin. Whew, I was feeling 100% better, except now I felt a touch of summit fever coming on.

The route, which starts at about 2200 feet, gets down to business in a hurry when it immediately crosses the Cascade River. We maneuvered delicately up onto a fallen tree and then down to an old log, ducking under the stump and branches, all the while struggling against the weight of the packs--so much for stretching and warming up. Once across, the route meanders through a thicket of downed trees and twisted branches, which looked to be the remnant of a flood or tornado. We made our way through it slowly, at times on hands and knees, constantly rescuing our wands and ice axes from the evil clutches of the waiting limbs. One recent trip report we had managed to find described the first part of the trail as the "crux" of the whole climb; the author wrote, apparently in all seriousness, that the only time he used his crampons was on the log crossing!

A climbers' trail emerges and climbs steeply and steadily through a lovely forest. Phil effectively served as our scout, since none of us could keep up to within a quarter mile of him. We stopped a couple of times for food and rest breaks, which never seemed soon enough for me. I recall one of them where I sat pressing my feet against the ground to keep my pack and myself from sliding down the steep slope, working just to cram in some water and an energy bar. I looked over and saw Doxey looking like he'd merely taken a stroll to his neighborhood Asian restaurant, sitting casually with one leg crossed over the other daintily eating sushi with chopsticks.

At about 4,000 feet, we arrived at the infamous boulder fields. There were various cairns and climbing paths through the rocks, but it was slow going as we concentrated on every step. Stretches were quite steep, and often times we needed both hands to help with balance or to pull ourselves up and over the boulders. The forecast had been for overcast clouds, but it was sunny and hot, and the reflective heat off the rocks provided an additional challenge.

After a couple of hours we emerged above the boulder fields and encountered the snow line. We crossed a few streams, careful to avoid moats, and eventually entered the Eldorado basin at approximately 5700 feet. It was late afternoon, and though we still had plenty of daylight, we quickly decided to set up our basecamp in the basin. We also took a moment to congratulate ourselves, because we knew that just getting here was the most difficult part of the climb. That evening we enjoyed full on views of Johannesburg to the south and peaks of the Cascade Pass area towards the east. Johannesburg is a very impressive mountain. According to Beckey, it has a vertical relief of 6800 feet, rising sharply from the Cascade River valley-5000 feet of which are in the final mile. In addition, the most visible ice--the Still Glacier--extends down to an unusually low elevation of 3300 feet.

While eating dinner that evening, Phil told us about how Minnesotans need to be asked three times before they will accept an offer of food, which was quickly disproved by Mike, also from Minnesota, who never needed to be asked more than once. At issue was another delicacy from the Doxey food bag-cold pizza. After dinner I climbed up the ridge to the west, which would be the start of our climbing route, and as I got higher I saw increasing ridgelines in the distance, and watched them turn rosy while the sun gradually faded away.

That evening the winds picked up and by morning we had clouds and occasional rain showers. It was the perfect excuse to sleep in, relax, and read. By early afternoon, it had let up, and we decided it was time for one of the highlights of the day-espresso shots courtesy of Adam. Though we were painstaking in keeping the weight of our packs to a minimum, it seemed like each of us had managed to sneak in at least one luxury item, and the mini-espresso maker was Adam's. We were seated at the south veranda, eating, drinking coffee, laughing, and once again enjoying the big views courtesy of J'burg.

A few of the hungrier members of the team began an informal challenge of not going more than seven minutes without having some kind of food in the mouth. I'm not sure how long this lasted, but I think Steve Short-who was finishing up the Mountaineers basic climbing course and had two more strenuous climbs this week--was still working on it a couple of hours later when Doxey, Adam, and I, fueled with enough espresso to last a while, started out for a scramble climb to Pt.7252, located northeast from our camp. Pt. 7252 is a worthy destination in its own right, offering fantastic views of Eldorado Peak, Dorado Needle, the Tepeh Towers, Klawatti Peak, Moraine Lake, and Mount Torment, to name only a few.

Once back to camp, we ate and got organized for the climb. We had decided (or, to be more precise, at least one us "acquiesced") on an alpine start of 3:30 am. The temperature had dropped quickly, forcing us into the tents early, and by the next morning, the snow had frozen over and the skies were crystal clear. We layered up, decided to go with the crampons, and sometime before 5am headed up for the ridge.

The sky was gradually brightening, and by the time we made it to the ridge, we were treated to alpenglow on J'burg, and Glacier Peak. We descended a rather precarious gully down to the snowfield of Roush Creek basin, roped up and then marched straight up the Eldorado Glacier. We were in the shade, and it was still quite cold, but we could see the light of the sun ahead of us on top of the rise. We plodded slowly onward, each step bringing us closer to the warmth, and soon we were there, traversing across a big, flat portion of the Inspiration Glacier under bright sunshine. The light was suddenly intense, like it is when you walk out from a dark movie theater into broad daylight. Behind us to the south, the views to Glacier Peak, Mt. Daniel, and beyond were increasingly expansive. Ahead of us was the east ridge leading up to the summit of Eldorado Peak, the craggy ridgeline of the Tepeh Towers, and Klawatti Peak. Further to the east sat the formidable duo of Mt. Torment and Forbidden Peak.

We took a nice long break just past the 7500-foot high camp and stared at the route up Eldorado. From where we sat, it looked quite steep. Nelson/Potterfield say the route contains 35-degree slopes, but I wasn't trusting them anymore. We watched two teams descend and got some first-hand reconnaissance from them as we began our summit bid. One party, obviously proud of having bagged the peak, stripped down bare-chested and told us the route was disintegrating and that we should be worried. Doxey said thanks and proceeded to ignore them. As I passed them, one said to me, "Rock on dude!" I wasn't sure how to respond and found myself whispering "Party on Garth" under my breath.

From the break spot, we had about 1500 feet left to the summit. The climb from this point was short, with a few steep sections, but they were not as bad as they looked from a distance. Overall the route was in excellent shape, and we had no difficulties. We easily navigated around a few relatively small crevasses. As we got higher, we were treated to stunning views of Moraine Lake, thousands of feet below, bathed in sunshine, shimmering in glacial green like an emerald. As I scanned the horizon, I saw innumerable peaks. I don't know how many miles of visibility we could see, but I counted at least seven major ridges and alternating valleys.

As we approached the final summit push, the route narrowed and sharpened into a knife-edge ridge. The footing was stable and it was technically easy, but the exposure increased dramatically on either side. Asked later if he was scared, Doxey put it this way: "It definitely got my attention." He put in a few pickets to protect the route, and after a few final, carefully placed steps, we were on the summit.

The views were extraordinary in all directions, and we easily could see why they are described as among the best in the Cascades. Beckey describes Eldorado as one of the "grand summits" of the North Cascades (and this from a man not known for overstatement). To the north we saw Snowfield Peak, Colonial Peak, the Picket Range, and many others in the heart of the North Cascades. We also saw Dorado Needle, Mt. Baker, Mt. Shuksan and peaks and ridges well into British Columbia. To the east we saw Mt. Logan and peaks in the Okanogan. To the southeast we saw Buckner Mountain, peaks in the Stehekin area, as well as the peaks above Cascade Pass and along the Ptarmigan Traverse. Further south we could see the top half of Mt. Rainier looming large in the horizon. To the west we saw Hidden Lakes Peak and the Marblemount Creek drainage.

We celebrated with traditional summit rollos, took photos, gawked, and congratulated ourselves as well as Doxey for doing an excellent job of leading the climb. One member of our party apparently decided that achieving the summit was a sufficient emergency to justify calling his family on the "emergency" cell phone-he was overheard describing the situation as "hairy." The summit is small; however, we stayed put and were anchored in place with pickets. No one else was on the mountain, and it was a special experience to have the summit to ourselves on such a spectacular day.

The leisurely descent was highlighted by a few nice glissades down the Eldorado Glacier. Just below the ridge that divided Roush from Eldorado basins, Doxey asked for help looking for a lost camera he had learned about from a climber on the internet who had just done the climb a few days earlier. After scouring the immediate area to no avail, Mike graciously boot skied down into Roush Creek basin to what looked like a rock but sure enough retrieved the camera. Doxey spent the rest of the trip finishing up the role of film with goofball shots of our team.

We returned to camp by late afternoon. The sun was still blaring overhead, and I ducked into the tent to get some shade, unwind, and ride the endorphin wave that accompanies a successful summit climb. Meanwhile I chilled my luxury item in the snow, and before too long began to celebrate our achievement with my tent-mate, Adam, and then the rest of the team, with swigs of Tequila. As the sun went down off to the west, we enjoyed our familiar view of J'burg, this time not only dressed in pink but also winking back at us as an almost full moon brightened above it. Once again the temperature cooled down quickly, and before long we retired to the tents, physically exhausted from the long day but feeling very satisfied and privileged to have had the opportunity to experience a great climb under great conditions.

The next morning we slept in and awoke to clear weather. Stiff winds cancelled our morning espresso and hurried us along, so we packed up and began our steep descent. Though our packs were somewhat lighter, navigating the boulder fields still required our maximum effort. A misstep or loss of balance would result in a pretty nasty tumble. The heat was oppressive as the sun blared down upon us and radiated off the rocks. The boulder fields were relentless. Just when it seemed we must be coming to the end, the route became steeper. On more than one occasion I slid on my backside rather than risking a precarious step that was just out of my comfort zone. Down, down, down, we continued. My legs grew heavy, my knees ached, and my feet were getting sore. Our clothes were drenched through, and we looked forward to entering the forested hillside below.

I took it slow, and left it to the long-legged speedsters to hurry down. Adam, who could have gone much faster, graciously stayed back to wait for me. For much of the descent, we leapfrogged two women from another party. At one point, one of them joked whether we had any pain pills for sore feet. It was then I realized that as strenuous as the descent was for our group, how much more so for them. They had arrived at Eldorado basin the day before and camped up on the ridge, had awoken early the next morning, bagged the summit, returned to camp and packed their gear, and now were on their way down-what a slog. I wondered whether they were able to enjoy any of it or if it was just a blur. From the parties we encountered and from what we've read and heard, climbing Eldorado in two days appeared to be fairly typical.

Despite the increasing pain in my lower body, I was reminded why I liked to climb and why I liked the style and attitude of our group. Although we'd had a discussion the first evening about whether to do the climb in 3 or 4 days, climbing for all of us is much more than simply reaching the summit-it's also about experiencing the beautiful alpine scenery, it's about time away from the urban rat race, it's about time for reflection, and it's about time spent with friends. It's about sushi and espresso, it's about joking on the south veranda while identifying the peaks of the Ptarmigan Traverse, it's about sleeping late in the tent listening to the rustle of the breeze and the drizzle, it's about scrambling to the fabulous vistas on Pt. 7252, it's about sitting on a rock by a fresh, gurgling, snow-melt stream while filling water bottles, it's about sitting at the tent entrance meditating, it's about hiking up the ridge to photograph the splendor of the sunset, and it's about relaxing on the flats of the Inspiration Glacier without a care (except whether you've applied enough sun block, eaten enough food, and drank enough water). I recalled our climbing group motto: "Whatever the Mountaineers can do in two days, the Bushwhackers can do in three." If our trip to Eldorado is any indication, perhaps it should be revised to say we'll do it in at least in four.

According to Beckey, the name Eldorado Peak comes from an early mining claim-not surprising since "el dorado" refers to gold. I recently read a book entitled The Island of Lost Maps by Miles Harvey, who points out that throughout history, the name "El Dorado" has come to represent a mythic, illusory, unattainable place of failed discovery. He also notes that what's most memorable about the many attempts to find "el dorado" is the journey itself, rather than actual discovery. I thought about this as I reflected on our climb. Though we reached the summit, we didn't find any gold. Rather, the value of our climb lay in the journey, the adventure, and the experience. And those memories, as Doxey initially predicted, will be with us for a long time.

By the time I arrived at the trailhead, most of our party had already cooled down and washed up in the Cascade River. We soon headed out for food and beer in Marblemount, and shakes at Cascadian Farm. Doxey took one last photograph in the recovered camera of us with our milkshakes. As we turned to pose, we took one last glance back at the Cascade mountains we'd just left behind, and then readjusted our sights toward home.