IMG_20250831_094624598.jpg

Trip Report    

Alpine Scramble - Mount Hinman/West Route

Saying Goodbye to Hinman Glacier: A Labor Day Ascent

  • Road suitable for all vehicles
  • Good paved road and gravel road to the TH. Limited parking - so please carpool if you can 

Trip Report: Hinman & La Bohn Peaks via Necklace Valley

Crew: Jon Larson, Rachel Rische, Carolyn Graham, and Ananth Maniam
Dates: Labor Day Weekend
Route: Necklace Valley → Ilswoot & Opal Lakes → La Bohn Lakes Camp → Hinman Peak → La Bohn Peak


Day 1: Into the Necklace Valley

Over Labor Day, our team set out from the Necklace Valley trailhead with a plan to climb Hinman Peak (7,492 ft) and La Bohn Peak. The trail starts gently, winding five miles through old-growth forest alongside a clear, tumbling river. It was a peaceful warm-up before the terrain began to rise more steeply through rock gardens and alpine valleys.

PXL_20250830_164412698.jpg

PXL_20250830_165131934.jpg

We passed Ilswoot Lake and the shimmering waters of Opal Lake, pausing to take in a curious landmark: an old World War II memorial cabin, a reminder that these mountains hold stories far beyond our own footsteps. From here, the trail ended and the real work began. We scrambled up slick rocks beside a waterfall, picking our way toward the basin.

PXL_20250830_192753813.jpg

PXL_20250830_201206558.jpg

By late afternoon, we reached the La Bohn Lakes, a cluster of sapphire pools cradled high in the Alpine Lakes Wilderness. We set up camp, shared a meal, and watched the alpine sky flame out into a soft sunset.

PXL_20250831_024541923.jpg


Day 2: Saying Goodbye to the Glacier

We woke at 6 a.m., geared up, and pushed toward Mount Hinman. To reach its summit, we crossed what used to be the Hinman Glacier. Once the largest glacier between Mount Rainier and Glacier Peak, it was officially declared “dead” in 2022 after shrinking beyond the point of flow. Now, only stranded ice patches remain—a heartbreaking reminder of climate change’s pace, especially given this glacier lies just 50 miles from downtown Seattle.

IMG_20250831_074820494_HDR.jpg

Instead of snowfields, we found unstable slopes of loose rock the size of dining tables. Our crampons and ice axes proved invaluable for navigating the stubborn patches of blue ice that remained. It was sobering to realize the mountain itself hadn’t yet stabilized after losing the glacier that once bound it together.

PXL_20250831_154607670.jpg

IMG_20250831_094624598.jpg

PXL_20250831_162712080.MP.jpg

IMG_20250831_091227393.jpg

At the summit, haze softened the otherwise sweeping views. We didn’t linger long—descending required focus. Cairns guided us back, and once again the crampons saved us from sketchy footing.

IMG_20250831_103127400.jpg

At La Bohn Gap, energy still in the tank, we decided to tag La Bohn Peak. The climb was mercifully straightforward—solid rock, light scrambling, and another summit in the bag. Back at camp, the sunset felt extra well-earned.

PXL_20250831_192738194.jpg

PXL_20250831_201209309.jpg

PXL_20250831_195247103.jpg


Day 3: Berries, Mushrooms, and the Long Exit

Morning came slower on the third day. Packs were lighter, spirits still high. As we retraced the trail out of the valley, we helped ourselves to wild berries dotting the meadows and marveled at the explosion of mushrooms along the forest floor. Ten miles later, dusty and content, we reached the trailhead.

PXL_20250901_150342715.jpg

PXL_20250901_192257148.jpg

PXL_20250901_182137514.jpg


Reflections: Peaks, People, and the Past

This trip was about more than just the miles or summits. Necklace Valley carries the weight of history—old mining remnants from the late 1800s, when small-scale operations scratched for copper and gold but ultimately abandoned the effort. These rusting artifacts now sit alongside alpine lakes, half reclaimed by moss and silence.

The loss of the Hinman Glacier hit harder than expected. It once fed the Skykomish River, cooling its flows for salmon and farmers during summer’s driest months. Now, its absence is part of a larger story—55% of glacier surface area in the Skykomish basin has vanished since the 1950s. Standing on bare rock where living ice should have been felt like witnessing a eulogy in stone.

And yet, amid all that, there was joy: laughter around camp, shared effort on sketchy terrain, the simple beauty of alpine sunsets. A beautiful weekend with great people, tied together by peaks, stories, and the fragile wilderness we’re lucky enough to walk through.