Blog · Field notesMount Si taught me the bottom of the mountain lies

I went up Mount Si this year in that weird early-spring window when the valley already feels like summer and the summit still thinks it’s winter.

Started at the trailhead in shorts. Barely any layers. The parking lot was warm, the sky was clean, and it looked like the kind of day you underpack on purpose. I figured I’d sweat it out on the climb and be fine.

Most of the way up it stayed beautiful. Easy to get cocky. By the time I hit the upper stretch and rolled onto that rocky top, it was a different planet. Freezing. Wet. Wind cutting through the shorts. Snow coming sideways. I stood there for about thirty seconds thinking, yeah, I really misread this.

I didn’t linger. Almost ran the whole way back down just to get warm again. Legs hammering, fingers numb, that stupid feeling of being caught out on a hike people treat like a gym staircase.

Here’s the part that stuck: the trailhead is a liar. Weather at the bottom is not weather at the top, especially in the Cascades when the seasons are fighting each other. Checking the forecast for the summit elevation, packing a light shell and an extra layer even when the lot feels like July, and treating “just Mount Si” like real mountain weather would’ve saved me that sprint.

Same lesson I keep coming back to for home preparedness. Conditions change faster than your comfort zone. What feels fine in Redmond or on the valley floor doesn’t tell you what you’ll get when the power’s out, the road’s blocked, or you’re stuck somewhere colder and wetter than you planned. Layers beat optimism. A quick check before you go beats a hard lesson at the top.

I still like Mount Si. I’ll go again. Next time I’m packing like the summit might be winter, even if the base is wearing shorts.