Overnight To The Chimes

Jun 23, 2026

Four hikers with packs climb a brown tundra slope in low evening light, a row of tall granite spires rising along the ridge to their left and a deep valley opening to distant ridgelines on the right. — Our party at the Windchimes near Mt. Prindle

In early June, five of us took off for Nome Creek for an overnight trip to Mt. Prindle in the White Mountain National Recreation Area. The plan was to head to Mt. Prindle at some point, but with it being so early in the season after an insanely cold and snowy winter, it was as much a recon trip as anything.

Getting an earlyish start (we tried) on Saturday and driving up the Steese Highway to US Creek Road, we hit the trailhead at about 12:45 pm and found the most cars in the parking area I’ve ever seen. In the grand scheme of things, it was seven cars, but it felt like so many. My antisocial brain immediately starts a countdown. Seven potential parties out there that I can tick off my list as we pass them on the way in.

The hike starts with multiple water crossings right off the bat: first Nome Creek, then a big tributary almost immediately after. We had a fair amount of snow early on too, although it was firm enough to walk on the surface, breaking through only at the margins. I noticed one woman from the parking lot hiking off a hill in another direction. Down to six remaining parties.

Two hikers with large backpacks wade across a shallow, clear stream over a cobbled bottom, one steadying with a trekking pole as the other steps from a rock, spruce and bare brush along the far bank.

Two hikers with packs cross a wide, braided gravel-bottomed stream from opposite directions, arms out for balance in the moving water, a spruce-covered hillside rising behind.

A narrow boot-worn path leads through low brown brush toward a row of rounded peaks still patched with snow, scattered spruce in the middle distance under a blue sky with thin high cloud. — The trail after the crossings

The trail was the normal early-season wet mess, making it necessary to walk through the brush to the side of the trail about three-quarters of the time. Things were just starting to turn green, but only a few wildflower species were poking through. We passed a man walking the other way who warned us there was a lot of snow and mud on the trail. Not long after, another couple heading out as well. Only four parties remained.

Besides wet and muddy terrain, we had to navigate some long stretches of snowpack. Most of the time this went fairly well with a firm surface, but every once in a while we’d find soft spots and punch down to our knees or lower. In a few places the snow was a boon, letting us cross sections of willow and alder thicket right on top.

A cluster of white five-petaled flowers with dense yellow centers rises on a single green stalk above deeply divided leaves, set against a soft-focus background of brown groundcover. — Narcissus Anemone (*Anemone narcissiflora*), one of the more common flowers early on the trail.

Three hikers with large backpacks walk toward the camera across a broad, sun-bright snowfield, low brush and a long snow-streaked ridge behind them under a blue sky. — Going a little snowblind on the “trail”

We passed another couple of hikers between miles 3 and 4, putting the remaining party count down to three. In the distance, across the creek, there was another group of hikers with dogs resting in a rocky area. We followed up the valley in their general direction, angling uphill to avoid snow and mud down at trail level, stopping at a point adjacent to the other hikers to rest, eat, drink some water, and look at flowers.

Four hikers with large backpacks walk in a line up a brown tundra slope toward a rounded, snow-patched peak under a deep blue sky. — Heading up hill off-trail

A woman in a floral sun shirt with a blue backpack examines a weathered, bleached bone she holds in both hands, tundra and a snow patch behind her. — Finding caribou bones

A young man in a yellow shirt and ball cap, a camera slung across his chest, grins as he holds up a weathered bone in each hand, green tundra and snowy slope behind. — Vertebra and maybe a scapula?

A cluster of pale lavender four-petaled flowers with yellow-green centers on slender stems, rising among toothed green basal leaves and dry brown stems on the tundra. — Nakedstem Wallflower (*Parrya nudicaulis*)

Four hikers and a dog rest on a tundra slope among scattered packs, a long ribbon of snow filling the valley below and dark peaks rising across it. — Our rest stop above the valley

A low close view of two dense spikes of small pink woolly lousewort flowers, with a person's face resting on the ground beside them, a snow-streaked peak soft in the background. — Cassidy photobombing the Woolly Lousewort (*Pedicularis lanata*)

As we rested, the group took up my counting bit and started debating whether the party across the way had come in two cars or three. We landed on three, which zeroed out the lot: no one else unaccounted for on the trail. We granted that six people and two dogs could theoretically fit in two cars, but agreed it was unlikely.

The other party started setting up camp where they’d stopped, and it was time for us to keep moving. We’d already decided to glissade down the snow slope to the trail. Everyone else pulled on rain gear before dropping in, so I just went for it. The others followed, repeatedly attacked by Astra the whole way down.

We were nearing the point where the trail turns into a marshland, which is the headwaters of Nome Creek. We started looking for a dry, ideally rocky, spot to camp. Heading further up the trail, crossing a few more snowfields, we spotted a flat patch across the creek that looked like a promising camp in the alpine tundra.

Two hikers with large packs and a dark dog cross open, rust-colored tundra toward a rounded, snow-flecked peak under a bright blue sky. — Hiking as the trail starts to disappear

Four hikers with packs move across snow patches and tundra toward a snow-covered slope below a dark peak, one in the foreground crossing a broad snowfield. — Looking for a spot to cross Nome Creek

Seen from below, three hikers with packs climb a grassy alpine slope toward a ridge topped with jagged rock spires, against a blue sky with scattered cloud. — Heading up to the flats

It looked like a great spot. Good views up and down the valley, the small tors on the ridge ahead that would eventually lead us to the Windchimes and beyond, and rock outcroppings up above. About 100 yards off we spotted a boulder that would make a good kitchen, far enough to keep our food away from camp. We settled in and started setting up tents.

It quickly became apparent that our spot was a bit of a wind funnel in the valley. Cassidy and Elliott got their tent set up fairly quickly, and Sam was not far behind. Jules and I were setting up our tents, both on the windward side of the group. We’d both staked out and were just starting to put on flys when a strong gust of wind caught the material, ripped the stakes out of the ground, and flipped both tents. The result was two bent poles on my tent, and a broken one on Jules’s.

Field repairs went quickly with a splint and some rebending. We moved tents closer together and stacked a few rocks to create a wind shield. Camp felt cozy.

Three small tents stand on brown tundra at the foot of a long scree slope streaked with snow, several hikers sitting and moving among scattered gear under a blue sky. — Our little alpine campsite

A woman in a bright green down jacket and beanie lies back on the tundra, smiling, with a black and tan dog sprawled belly-up across her legs, a tent and snow patches behind. — Cassidy relaxing with Astra

We decided that if we were going to reach Mt. Prindle, it would have to be this night. Food came first. Some ate a full dinner before heading back out; a few had bigger snacks and planned to eat on our return. While we cooked, we watched the other big party heading up the valley. Same plan as us, apparently.

By the time we left camp, it was about 7:30 pm, and I think everyone was feeling a bit tired. Perfect timing to start the climb. We chose the snowiest, rockiest route possible, because as long as we were on snow or rock, we weren’t sinking in mud and water. Unfortunately, this led to a lot of sidehilling, which isn’t ideal for those with bad knees and ankles.

Two hikers climb a tundra slope broken by snowfields toward a dark peak in low evening light, a third hiker a small speck on the snow behind them. — Starting out across the valley: if you look closely on the left side, you can see a couple of specks that are our tents in the sliver of light.

An overhead close view of a low cushion of tiny reddish and green leaves studded with many small white five-petaled flowers with yellow centers, spread over pale lichen-blotched rock. — Pincushion plant (*Diapensia obovata*) on the rocky tundra

The initial climb brought us to the ridge with the tors seen from our camp below. Here we got to follow a semblance of a trail again for a while. I’m still not sure if this trail is “maintained” more by people, or Dall sheep, but it does speed up the walk up the ridge.

We stopped for a bit in the tors to catch our breath. The other group was also resting ahead of us. Elliott walked down to ask them if their dogs were friendly with other dogs before letting Astra loose. It was clear she was also getting tired, as it took her a while to even realize there were other dogs. Once she noticed, she got some good play in and probably wore herself out the rest of the way.

Two hikers with packs and a dog walk across pale, lichen-covered rock toward a tall, weathered granite pillar and a cluster of blocky outcrops under a blue sky. — Approaching the first tors

A single dense head of small blue-purple flowers with fine protruding stamens rises from a low green rosette wedged among pale broken rock. — Northern kittentails (*Synthyris borealis*)

A hiker in a yellow top and pack steps across a gap between weathered granite blocks, one stack capped by a balanced boulder, against a clear blue sky. — Playing around on the tors

Four hikers scramble up a broad rib of sunlit granite along a high ridge, snow-streaked peaks and a deep valley behind them, a shaft of lens flare crossing the frame. — The journey continues

We decided not to carry on all the way to the summit of Mt. Prindle. It was too far to go in the evening given everyone’s energy level. We would go the additional mile out to the Windchimes, a much larger set of granite outcrops, and spend a little time exploring there before turning back.

This turned out to be a wise choice. Cresting the rib of a ridge between these lower tors and the Windchimes involved some uncomfortable postholing in between loose sections of talus that were fine for the humans, but a little precarious for the doggo.

Three hikers climb a broad snow slope toward the camera in low light, a large snow-streaked bowl and dark peaks rising behind them. — Heading up the last hill to the talus slopes

Two hikers cross a rocky, snow-patched ridgetop, one raising an arm across their face against the wind, distant peaks under a partly cloudy sky behind. — It was a little windy on the ridge

Two hikers and a black and tan dog pick their way across a jumble of lichen-covered granite blocks along a high ridge, snow-covered peaks behind. — Navigating around some of the bigger rocks with Astra

Once we hit our high point for the day, the full sweep of the Windchimes and the ridge to the Prindle summit opened up. It was getting close to 9 pm, the sun low and raking across the hills. To the north, it caught the water running through another valley, below an endless sea of tor-dotted ridges.

Descending the last snowfield to the Windchimes

A row of jagged granite spires runs along a snow-streaked ridge, with a tundra foreground and a long valley opening to faint distant ranges under a deep blue sky. — View of the Windchimes and the rib leading to the Prindle summit (actual summit is a little behind the highest point you can see here). Prints and Wall Art

The low sun stars brightly above a long valley veined with snow and braided meltwater, rows of dark ridges layering back to the horizon. — View to the north: sunlight reflecting off the water in the headwaters between the snowpack. Prints and Wall Art

We picked our way through the tors until the snow gave us an obvious turnaround, then stopped at one of the largest outcrops on the ridge to rest. The wind was running cold enough that we didn’t linger as long as we wanted to.

A person in a green jacket stands on tundra below a large rounded granite outcrop, while another person stands atop the rock with arms raised, snow patches around them in warm light. — Wandering through the tors... Sam on a rock

Two large granite spires rise from a ridge against a deep blue sky, a snow-streaked peak visible in the gap between them. — Granite spires | Prints and Wall Art

Tall granite spires tower over a tiny figure in a yellow jacket standing at their base, a snow slope below and blue sky above, the small figure making the rock's scale clear. — Big rocks: Sam in the frame for scale | Prints and Wall Art

A row of jagged granite outcrops runs along a snowy ridge crest beside a curving snow cornice, under a blue sky streaked with thin cloud. — The view back in the direction we came | Prints and Wall Art

Four people crouch in a row against a rock face, knees drawn up and faces tucked down, lit by low warm evening light. — Group huddle - soak in the 9:30 pm Sun

A broad lichen-covered granite wall with one person wedged climbing in a low crack while three others and a black and tan dog rest at its base. — Quiet moments before packing up to head back

Leaving was bittersweet. I had an urge to push on, but everyone was tired, myself included, and I was starting to get hungry. Our “recon” trip turned out better than we had hoped and the return hike gave us the best light of the day.

Four hikers and a dog walk along a tundra-and-snow ridge past tall granite spires in warm evening light. — Ready to head back out

Four hikers climb a slope of snow and brown tundra below jagged granite outcrops, low sun lighting the rock. — Back up the hill

Four small figures cross a vast snowfield below a large snow-covered cirque headwall in evening light, dwarfed by the slope above them. — Crossing snowfields

Two hikers sit on a jumble of lichen-covered granite blocks on a high ridge under a wide blue sky scattered with clouds, brown tundra in the foreground. — On the final descent to camp from the talus field

Back at camp we made dinner and complained about Mountain House portions. They used to run around 1,000 calories; now they’re closer to 500 or 600, which is useless for backpackers who actually need the calories. Shrinkflation, or marketing to a different customer, I’m not sure. At least the price is about double what I used to pay.

After our 11 pm dinner, we packed up our food and stoves and stashed the bear canisters by our kitchen boulder. I wandered a bit down the hill from the tent and found a place to sit and watch the colors on the clouds over the valley below until just after midnight.

Four people in colorful jackets sit on the tundra eating around a lichen-covered boulder, cooking gear and a bear canister beside them, a snow-patched slope behind in dim evening light. — Dining around the kitchen boulder

A broad U-shaped valley of brown tundra and snow patches under a twilight sky, clouds lit peach and pink by a low sun, faint ranges at the far end. — Sunset colors after midnight

A little rain fell in the morning before we all got up. I didn’t sleep great, and from the sound of it, most of the group didn’t either. We made breakfast in the cold, Cassidy and I drank coffee, which for me is the most important part of the day.

Striking camp went quick. Cassidy thought she might have dropped her sunglasses the day before, near the creek crossing, so we kept an eye out. I lucked out and spotted them hanging on some dwarf birch on the opposite side near the spot we crossed.

A single yellow daisy-like flower seen from directly above, with two rows of narrow rays around a dense domed center of tiny yellow-green disc florets, set against soft-focus green leaves and dark groundcover. — Dark purple-haired groundsel (*Tephroseris frigida*)

The sky was a bit dreary compared to the day before. The chance of rain seemed high, so we moved quickly down the valley with fewer stops. Somehow, on the way in, we had completely missed a stretch of alder thicket that is always a royal pain on this hike. We had no such luck on the way out, and got a little separated in the mess of it.

We were back at the trailhead about the same time we’d arrived the day before. We never reached the summit, but that wasn’t really the point. The mountain will be there when the snow’s gone, and so, I expect, will the people I’d want to go back with.

Check out the full gallery from this trip on my site here

Field notes from the north

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