I was moments from embarking on my solo hike when my friends pulled up alongside me in the Rattlesnake Wilderness parking lot. None of us were thrilled about the frigid temperatures, and as we set off towards the Stuart Peak trail, I expressed my disapproval with a few expletives. However, the chill soon subsided, replaced by a growing warmth generated by our brisk pace.
My ambitious plan for the day involved summiting not only Stuart Peak but also Mosquito Peak, an additional four miles away. We anticipated an eight-mile hike to Stuart, doubting the reported 30 inches of snow. I suspected I would need my snowshoes at the wilderness boundary, six miles in.
My GPS indicated six miles, but we were nowhere near the wilderness boundary. I grumbled about the USFS signage and cut a switchback to save time on my friends’ behalf to set up a changing station. I kicked in a seat, laid out my sleeping pad, and sat down to put on my snowshoes. Yes, there was indeed that much snow. But I had no idea that this was just the beginning.
My friends arrived, and while one appeared to be dismantling entirely in front of me, the other seemed eager to continue. I was raring to go, and after some gear changes and packing delays, we were back on the trail, trudging up the mountain. This time, I was breaking trail.
Soon, I found myself alone as my friends turned back around 2 pm. Just as I started to pick up my pace, the trail disappeared completely, and my snowshoes were no match for the deep snow. I took to the ridge and decided to beeline it to Stuart.
The climb seemed endless, taking about 45 minutes despite feeling like three hours. Reaching an elevation of around 7,000 feet, I was excited to be almost at Stuart Peak, with only 1,000 feet remaining. I knew that Stuart transitioned into steeper terrain for 800 feet over a third of a mile, so when I started to go straight up, I knew the end was close. Then, the slope started descending.
I lost about 200 feet of elevation gain, attributing it to a high point along the ridge. I crossed what appeared to be a trail. It was indeed a trail. I searched my mind, trying to recall the map I had studied earlier in the day, and decided that this was a trail down to the Farmer Lakes part of the wilderness. Fortunately, I chose to go left to avoid descending into the Rattlesnake. I decided to follow the trail, which should be close to the base of the mountain I wanted to climb.
Just as I was admitting to myself that there was no trail to the Farmer Lakes, I spotted a wilderness boundary. I was disheartened to discover not only that I was not where I thought I was but also that I was not as far along as I had believed. I strolled through and onto a familiar trail towards Stuart, accepting the fact that I was only a couple of miles away. It wasn’t as far as I had hoped, but at least I knew for sure. The problem was that I wasn’t making great time. It took me an hour to cover the last mile, and at this pace, I wouldn’t make Mosquito Peak. I decided to skip Stuart and head directly for Mosquito, picking up the pace down the trail, which seemed to be leveling out.
Then again, the trail disappeared, and it felt like I was descending too much to the south. As soon as the trail was no longer apparent, I started straight up the hill to the north. My GPS was not making sense, and I figured I must be pretty close to Stuart Peak. The thoughts of conquering Mosquito were fading, as was daylight. I started to consider whether I wanted to summit in the darkness or not. I was perplexed why I hadn’t found Stuart yet and started to get concerned as a storm rolled in and obscured all my visual landmarks. The winds started howling, and I staggered higher and higher. I could see a giant mountain way off to my left and thought to myself that that couldn’t be Stuart; it was too far off.
I kept heading north using my GPS. The visibility was poor, and it was nearing 3:30 pm. Conquering Mosquito was a distant memory, and reaching Stuart in the daylight was in question. I only had an hour or two of daylight left. I noticed that my fingers and feet were getting cold. Even while working hard, I was losing body heat and couldn’t stay warm. I struggled against the waist-deep snow. Suddenly, there was a distinct cut-off of trees. There were these black objects in the swirling snow and wind, and then further on, nothing but a white glow.
This had to be Stuart,
Boneshakerbike 
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