indian summer highs story1

Sledding the North Cascades
Steve Stroming is a climbing friend who convinced me to try paragliding a few years back. Since then we've done more flying together than climbing. Two years ago I returned from a hike in the North Cascades with tales of a great potential flight, Crater Mountain. With a good trail all the way to the top and a 6000+ foot descent right back to the car, I think it is unique in the Cascades.
The catch was that we would have to land next to the North Cascades Highway at the bottom of a narrow valley. We figured that autumn would be the best time. The mountain would be snow free and the highway traffic would be light. We wanted an early start to fly before the valley winds picked up. Two years passed before we finally tried it early this October.
We slept at the trailhead and started hiking by headlamp at 5:15 AM. Around 9:45 we reached the top. The day was fine--mostly clear with a light west wind. Still, we decided not to try launching from the true summit. The breeze was strong enough, about 12 MPH, to cause a wind shadow where the summit plateau dropped over a cliff. For safety's sake we hiked down about 1000 feet to a nice round shoulder where the breeze was light and consistent.
From our launch we looked down 5000 feet to the highway snaking its way toward Rainy Pass. Beyond, the summits of Black Peak, Ragged Ridge, Backbone Ridge and Snowfield Peak stood above glaciers that looked withered and icy after the dry summer. We could see the white cone of Mt. Baker and the Picket Range beyond Ross Lake to the west. Nearby, the crumbling hulk of Jack Mountain loomed above us.
Steve launched first while I took photographs. I followed at about 11:30 AM. The flight lasted only 16 minutes, but after waiting for two years, we savored it. I watched the summit recede far above me as I made lazy turns over the river. As we descended into the wind shadow of the trees along the highway, a light breeze gave us some mild surges. Neither of us had any problems, but we could tell that flying here with strong winds would be a terrible mistake.
Since it was only noon, we drove farther up the highway and hiked to the meadows below Cutthroat Peak. We had a beautiful 1400 feet high among the golden larches and peaks of the Washington Pass area. There were a few thermal bumps, but nothing sustainable. Wisps of cloud painted across the blue October sky hinted that our Indian Summer was nearing an end.
As we expected, a group of motorists stopped and plied us with questions at the highway. One woman was especially attentive. After Steve answered all her questions, she paused for a moment and said, "You sure know how to live life."
I was tempted to respond with something like, "Shucks, this is how we spend all our weekends," but I thought better of it. Her words were a reminder of something worth holding onto. We fliers become comfortable, even complacent, doing things most people only dream about. I cherish days like these for reminding me just how fortunate we are.