Three Fingers by Whitehorse Mountain is distinguished by its triple-summited profile within the Boulder River Wilderness. The historic fire lookout, perched precariously on its south peak, was constructed between 1930 and 1932. The process involved blasting the summit to create a level foundation and hauling materials with a cable system. Additionally, some of its notable neighbors include Liberty Mountain and Jumbo Mountain.
See more trip photos here.
Three Fingers at a Glance
Access: Green Mountain Road (NF-41)
Round Trip: 16.4 miles
Elevation Range: 1600′-6850′
Essential Gear: helmet, ice ax, crampons
Route Info: Andy Boos, Nick
GPS Track: available
Dog-Friendly: with guidance
Playlist: Beats
Friday, July 5
Overview > Day 1 > Day 2 > Day 3
Green Mountain Road + Goat Flats Camp
Long-Awaited Reunion with Three Fingers
Fifteen years ago, a group of friends and I attempted to “walk” up to Three Fingers. Ill-prepared for the wintry conditions, we ultimately turned back due to foul weather at Tin Can Gap. I remember chatting with another climber who decided to turn around despite being fully equipped. Life has a funny way of moving on, and before I knew it, a decade and a half had passed. The memory of that outing, however, stayed with me all these years.
Having seen Three Fingers up close the day before, I was determined to carry out the plan. Since our visit, the approach has undergone significant changes. Starting from Tupso Pass was no longer possible due to the damaged Canyon Creek Bridge. Plus, it is an extra four miles from the boulder blockade with a narrow passage over protruding rocks. While high-clearance vehicles could manage, I, for one, would not attempt.
Brutal Shortcut to Alpine Paradise
After yesterday’s trip, we slept near the road junction, under a mile from the bridge. Needing the extra rest, we awoke around 10 to another warm day of sunshine and began walking three hours later. Shortly beyond the crossing, an old, unassuming rusty gate marked the start of the shortcut trail, easily missed if not looking closely. The 1.25-mile walk to Sevenmile Creek, our last water source, was deceptively flat. Afterward, we backtracked 500 feet to the obscure trailhead for the real work.
Overall, the path gained a relentless and thigh-burning average of 1800 feet per mile. At times, I gripped onto tree roots and dirt ramps on the steep, duff-covered slope in a bucket of sweat. The rare sight of fixed ropes, which I had initially scoffed at, became rather helpful. Even microspikes were a lifesaver, keeping me from sliding backward on the slick terrain into the abyss. After what felt like an eternity, the incline reduced around 3800 feet, offering the first glimpses of Three Fingers.
Alpine Room with a View, and Mosquitoes
After seeing our first water above 4200 feet, we continued piecing together flagging through tree debris. Ascending another 800 feet with limited views, we finally reached partially snowy Goat Flats. Finally, we set up camp amidst the beautiful meadow I had read about, with stunning views of the area. The initial plan was for an overnight trip, but the allure of this place was too strong to resist. I later decided to stay an extra night, soaking in the solitude and the spectacular scenery.
Finding places like this has become increasingly rare as the popularity of the notable lookout continues to grow. But for now, the only downside to our alpine paradise was the mosquitoes this time of the year. They were unbearable, a swarming horde that seemed to take turns feasting on our exposed skin. Connor, with his thick black coat, remained largely unfazed but annoyed nonetheless. We retreated to the tent after a quick photo shoot as the incessant buzzing outside continued.
Saturday, July 6
Overview > Day 1 > Day 2 > Day 3
Three Fingers Lookout + Goat Flats Camp
Push for Three Fingers Lookout
The next morning, we set out for the summit. The snow-covered trail in Goat Flats turned partly dry south of the ridgeline. Beyond the prominent buttress above Baldy Creek Basin, it was a massive snowfield to Tin Can Gap. Only a fraction of the trail was still visible past that point, where a mountain goat rested with watchful eyes. Soon, the faint set of days-old tracks turned around by the gap. The route to the lookout tower was a mix of snow and rock, requiring careful navigation.
An ice ax and crampons were essential for the traverses while exploring route options. The snow was in perfect condition despite the warming temperatures. So, the dog and I dropped onto the Queest Alb Glacier from its west edge, traversing east to the south saddle of the lookout. An exposed trail there brought us through the first switchback at 6200 feet before disappearing again. We pushed through the final 600+ feet to the base of the tower, dry with a thinning snow ramp.
Ladders to the Sky and a Safe Return
The final climb to the lookout was a series of three wooden ladders, reinforced with steel cables, tie wires, and rebars. Connor patiently waited in the shade while I went to check out the historic lookout tower. A final squeeze through a narrow gap above the lower two ladders brought me to the third set. It then led to a short scramble up a slanted rock face. I was finally here, on the platform of the welcoming Three Fingers Lookout.
Just as I pictured, the views up here were simply breathtaking. Due to safety restrictions, north-facing shutters needed to remain closed until further notice. To the west, the vast Puget Sound shimmered in the afternoon sun. Meanwhile, the rugged summits of the North Cascades on the east stretched for miles. It was pure solitude, a rare privilege in such a popular area. I reunited with Connor after signing the summit log, possibly the first signature in the book this season.
On the return, we poked around the west of the south saddle, hoping to find more of the summer trail. But the ground was still mostly snow-covered. We initially stayed high but dropped to 5400′ from atop steep snow on the glacier. Retracing steps through the edge of the glacier then brought us back to Tin Can Gap and out to Goat Flats. Surprisingly, the snow stayed firm throughout the day, which helped tremendously with the traverse back through the south slopes.
Sunday, July 7
Overview > Day 1 > Day 2 > Day 3
Exit
Reluctant Farewell to Three Fingers
Last night’s sunset painted the sky in hues of blue, orange, and gold as we returned to camp after a strenuous ascent. Also, the sky looked like it had the whole galaxy in it the night before. It was perfect for photos of star trails, one thing I had enjoyed since I began backpacking. This morning’s task was simple: retrace our steps back to the bridge and stroll the unexciting four-mile road back to the car. The descent was much faster, though no less demanding on the knees.
Through this trip, I was able to reconnect with a place that had been in my mind for a long time. At the same time, it created new memories of a place that was once a mystery for a lifetime. And, of course, it was a chance to spend some quality time with my favorite climbing partner, who is always up for a new adventure. Soon, by the last bend in the road, we greeted several trucks going the other way, probably spending the day by the creek.
As I drove away, I thought that perhaps it wouldn’t be another 15 years before I returned to this beautiful corner of the world.
