The first few miles entering the Sisters Wilderness from the east climb a dusty, dry trail which slowly ascends through deeply forested foot hills. Punctuating the way, shattered house-sized blocks of stone lie littering the ground where they were cast by the volcanic giants now and then visible towering above through the trees. About four miles along the remote trail after crossing two lesser streams, you arrive at an browd erosion scarred opening in the forest where a roaring creek pours down from the mountains. Here I stopped to eat a snack and read the map. It was time to turn from the trail and begin the cross country climb up toward Middle Sister. Climbing along side Squaw Creek, the slope increased and I was soon kick stepping up steep snow slopes following the drainage running down from the heights above.

Ascending the higher slopes, the drainage broadened and near timberline I came out into an open area of rolling flats comprised of rocky meadows still partly blanketed in snow. Now I could truly absorb the unrestricted splendor of the three peaks arrayed before me. Directly ahead stood Middle Sister, the Hayden Glacier, and Prouty Point. The volcanic steppe always inspires me with its savage textures. I moved from snow to black volcanic rock, and back to snow again as I picked my way up to Hayden Glacier.

Turning south, I ascended a snowy ridge below Hayden Glacier and found a striking perspective of South Sister. From where I stood Chambers Lakes and Camp Lake lie scattered below. The remnant of an ancient proto-cone stood in profile on the eastern flanks of the mountain, and I once again made note how deep the mountain snows were so far into summer. I've climbed South Sister on several occasions, but this was the first time I viewed it from this angle. Then, as I stood looking on, a rumbling came from above.

The reverberating crash of an avalanche roared down the steep eastern slopes of Middle Sister. It was a rude disturbance of the otherwise silent wilderness, and it awoke me from my meditative state. I turned toward North Sister and crossed another stretch of black volcanic rock. I suspected the hot summer temperature was melting snow dumped by El Nino weather patterns and causing unstable snow conditions. Pausing to take another photo, yet another avalanche sounded from high above.

I decided not to climb any higher with avalanches routinely breaking free. From where I stood the long jagged edge of North Sister's east ridge presented its saw tooth profile to me. The eroded crown of North Sister differs radically from its two nearby sibblings. Glacial action and ages of weathering have left North a broken and shattered mountain. The slopes are very steep in comparison to the gentle lines of Middle and South Sister, allowing much less snow to cling to its precipices.

Finally as afternoon passed on, I knew it was once again time to turn back for the long hike back out of the wilderness. As I came down the draw below Hayden Glacier, the source of Squaw Creek revealed itself as it bubbled out from under the snowy shelf that still covered the upper reaches of the glacial drainage. Descending the draw I followed the boiling white waters back to the pont where the main train headed north toward the Pole Creek parking area. It was a long but rewarding trek across this wilderness, and being close to several avalanches reminded me of nature's power which humans so frequently disregard. I'll return to this paradise many times in the future and under safe conditions will complete more summit routes from this east side access.

POST SCRIPT: A climber with modest experience was killed on North Sister as I finished writing this story for Virtual Cascades. The climber was a German national who worked in Corvallis. She apparently took a fall while soloing on the steep northeast side of the mountain. We suggest using extreme caution to check conditions while climbing this el nino year.