Mount Anderson, East Face (Honeymoon Headwall)

I've now been Splitboarding in the Olympics for just under five years, primarily on the eastern side close to my home in Poulsbo. Starting with The Brothers in May 2021, I've worked my way up and down the eastern rivers and hills, from Ellinor clear up to Buckhorn and Townsend, delving further into river valleys and quiet creeks for peaks like Deception and Mount Steel. Upon reaching these grand summits just above the Puget Sound, one's eyes are always drawn west, for the prize that is a glimpse of Mount Olympus and its grand glaciers. I'm no different, but something always caught my gaze and stopped it halfway across the range, in the middle, where the Quinault, Dosewallips, and Elwha rivers meet at the hydrological apex of the peninsula. Mount Anderson’s eastern face stared at me from many summits over the past years, beckoning with steepness, smoothness, and a decadent snowpack obvious from every angle I saw. The face had nearly Alaskan looking spines, gorgeous couloirs, clear exposure, and a few question marks due to the fact that I'd only ever seen the top 800 or so feet before Anderson’s eastern summit blocked it from view. In late 2025, Sage Adreon and I scheduled a week off in mid January to see if the ol Juneuary drought would once again occur. On December 30th, a PNW pilot named Long Bach Nguyen posted a photo set of the eastern Olympics in the PNW climbing and skiing facebook groups. One of the photos showed the east face of Mount Anderson looking just as skiable as I could dream, and the bottom details were finally revealed. The forecast came true, and the pieces were in place. We set off at 6:30 AM on Friday the 16th, skis strapped to bikes supporting a couple of goobers loaded up 60-70 pounds heavier than they usually weighed. Fast forward a two hour bike/walk, the skis were loaded onto our backs, and the full weight was beared until Big timber camp, where we donned snowboard boots, entering posthole territory. We finally became skiers atop the hill that leads down to diamond meadow camp, the cold air from the creek rapidly thickening the sparse January snowpack. Delicately, we traipsed from snow lump to snow lump, avoiding melted out sections of the trail. The creek crossings at Diamond Meadows were of little issue, and the skinning eased as we crept closer to Honeymoon Meadows, now under the night sky. After a spooky traverse past the Honeymoon Cascades, and a final frigid ford of the Dosewallips River, we pitched our tent in Honeymoon Meadows and decided it would move no further. We enjoyed a long sleep, and our warmest night of the trip. The theme would be four hours of daylight in the valley, followed by freezing our butts off in the cold creek air. It's definitely time for a zero degree bag. Anyway, on Saturday we woke late, and headed up towards Mount Lacrosse for a light day. The way up to Camp Siberia was easy skinning, and the trees away from the creek on south faces had not refrozen in many places. Once we turned into Lacrosse basin, it was all frozen, and marked with runnels from a rain event. It was clear the boarding would be poor and firm, and Sage opted to head back to camp to enjoy a bit of sun. I continued on, and was rewarded with more icy snow. I did however, get views on the objective for the next day, the big reason for the visit. They were reassuring, and this spurred me on towards the pass right below the summit of Lacrosse, and into the sun (6200’). Naturally, the south face off the summit had melted out. I left my board and bag, grabbed an ice tool, and climbed up some regrettable choss and steep snow to the summit, growing unhappier about my choices with each further step. I reached the top, took a GoPro video, and immediately reversed. The down climb was harrowing, requiring a few precarious crampon choss trust exercises. Lacrosse does not have high quality rock. I reached my board, threw it on, and descended into the shadows, and the ice. A bumpy hour later, I was at camp, around 5 pm. A half hour later it was dark, and we had our first campfire of the trip. Bed was made early, for tomorrow it was GO time. I awoke at 3:45, and found that Sage wasn't feeling very good, and that I was in for a solo. I left camp at 4:15, and spent 5-6 am playing the guitar at Camp Siberia, convinced I was a bit early. The switchbacks up to Valkyrie lake were soft and fairly easily skinnable in the dark, and for this I was thankful. Light finally broke as I put my snowboard together and made an icy roadie traverse above the lake towards Flypaper Pass. The dead Anderson glacier skinned easily, and a slushy bootpack was made in the rising sun up the last thousand feet to the pass. Here, I was greeted with my first view of the Eel glacier, long awaited. A large lobe of ice contained in a valley bordered by crumbling skyscrapers, rolling north into alder thickets rumored to be some of the most fearsome in the range. The snow switched like a light from slush to icy, nearly neve like snow. I easily walked sideways across 45 degree slopes towards Anderson’s NW slope, hardly losing altitude. All that remained was a 1000’ easy stroll to the summit, then a ridge traversing to the top of the line I wanted to ride down the east face. I left my board just below the summit, and strolled up, elated. The view was immaculate, the wind was minimal, and most importantly, the snow was perfect. A soft 2-3 inches of corn that had already seen days of sun to minimize hazard. I strolled down from the summit, and had a blast traversing the ridge heading north. The rock on Anderson really blows Lacrosse out of the water. Large crystals glimmered among the black, blue, orange, and grey rock. Looking down at the face, stoke grew with each step. I reached my drop with no difficulty, and took a long rest, basking in the sun. When I could find reason to wait no longer, I dropped into the face, nearly fifty degrees at the top, easing into the forties with short bits of respite. The snow was exceptional, just as soft as I could ask for. The rain runnels were present, and were probably a good thing as they kept me riding at a reasonable and cautious speed. Not a bad turn was made, and not a rock was scraped. I propose the name Honeymoon Headwall for this line, for the basin and many waterfalls it flows into. I'm fairly sure it is a first descent. I stopped at the bottom, took a few photos, and traversed into the sun towards Honeymoon basin, and the terraces leading back towards Anderson Pass. This skin was heavenly, chasing the sun west over mellow terrain, reveling in a dream realized. I stopped to lay on the rocks for a bit, and enjoy my last warmth for the day. The trees down the switchbacks and past Camp Siberia were amazing, some of the finest trail boarding I've done. I got back to camp around 3 pm, and found that Sage had dug a firepit supreme. We lit a big one, and decided to build jumps and a banked slalom around camp the next day, as I was now the one that needed rest. The next day, Monday, was a blast, cruising camp corn and building jumps over the firepit, killing food weight and enjoying the warmth of the sun. That night as bonfire was exceptional. We made plans to go back up to Valkyrie lake the next day, but were thwarted. Sage had a water bottle puncture in the tent and fairly well soak him around 2 am. We decided to sleep through the night and make an exit. The boots that morning were the most painful I've ever put on, simply arctic. We got moving around 11 am, able to snowboard/walk from Honeymoon Meadows to Diamond camp. The dirt was much more prevalent than four days ago. From Diamond, we skinned uphill a short way until the snowpack vanished, uphill from the freezing creek. We walked, and walked, and walked, and reached our bikes around 7 pm. Naturally, the adventure couldn't end there. Sage had a flat. No problem, that's why we brought a pump! We got it pumped up, and then it deflated as we try to unlatch the pump. Twice more this occurs, and then the unthinkable happens and the valve stem snapped off. Boom, you're donezo. Have 7.5 more miles. Please and thank you. I rode my brakes, and Sage crushed it out in less than three hours, with a 65 lb+ bag. Champion stuff. The car was reached, three cheers were made, and the adventure was over. Thanks for reading!