We’re in full-on summer mode here in Washington. Ok, so we spent 4th of July at a ski resort, but still. It’s summer. My skin has even acquired a vaguely pinkish hue which, given my viking complexion, will have to pass for a tan.

Last weekend (not the holiday weekend – I’m behind on photos as usual), JK, Wellie and I camped in the Teanaway and got our first real taste of Summer 2011…and an even better taste of a Norwegian campfire classic, stick bread. I’ll blog about it later so y’all can partake.

On Sunday we rolled out of camp at the crack of noon to hike up Bean Peak. Mmm, beans…I’m thinking of making a Favorite Foods Peak List, but so far I only know of Bean Peak and the Chocolate Glacier. Hopefully there’s an Avocado Ridge out there somewhere.

Anyhoo, we hiked up to the basin and scrambled up the southeast ridge. There were two moves that really got my heart pumping, but then again I am a certified weenie. I’m always anxiously picturing the worst possible outcome of any given situation.

Thankfully the rock was nice and grippy, and I know that every time I push myself like this, I’ll be just that little bit stronger and braver next time.

After a snack and some oohing and aahing over the views, Wellie and I had ourselves a good, old-fashioned summit snooze. Pure bliss.

We spent over an hour on the summit, then decided to descend the easier southwest gully. Unfortunately it ended up being much harder than the way up due to melting moats and very steep snow.

It didn’t help that we, being dumbasses, had left our hiking poles at the base of the southeast ridge and our ice axes stashed safely in the car. I got to do my first ever face-in downclimb with nothin’ but my bitten-down talons for purchase on the snow. I wish I had a photo of it, but I snapped angrily at JK when he tried to pull the camera out mid-climb.

As terrifying (I told you, I’m a weenie) as that downclimb was, it didn’t take long before I longed to go back and do it again. When we were snailing along in I90 vacation traffic on the way back to civilization, there was nothing I wanted more than to (grab my ice axe and) run for the hills.

Since we (I) all agreed that I deserved a more scenic birthday celebration than the Pratt Mountain TNAB, a group of us drove east the following Sunday in search of sun, views and shrooms.

Unfortunately (for everyone except fungus-phobic Tom) there wasn’t a morel to be found on the trail, and we could confirm, yet again, that summer will come late to the mountains this year. %#$@!!

Oh well, who needs morels when you can lounge on top of Iron Peak for hours, eating cupcakes, drinking wine, burning your scalp to a crisp (I’ll wear a hat next time), all while taking in a gorgeous panoramic view of the Teanaway!

Even Josie, who had forgotten her boots and was sporting soggy trainers (with cardboard inserts!) from the Cle Elum Farm & Home Store, couldn’t keep a smile off her face.

Thank you, friends (and Jasper), for such a wonderful birthday party. Maybe this whole growing old business isn’t such a bad thing after all.