Mount Baker, the fourth highest peak in Washington State, first appears in written history in a map rendered by Spanish explorers in 1790. Known to indigenous residents as Kulshan, it was given the name Baker in 1792 by the British explorer George Vancouver. The Russian, British, Spanish, and United States governments all vied for control of the Pacific Northwest in the nineteenth century¹, but the name endured as borders were drawn and redrawn.

As late as 1866, local Native Americans remained sufficiently influential to forbid access to its slopes by those who would ascend the mountain. By 1893, a wagon road creating a way to the mountain was begun, and in 1931, the road reached its modern terminus at Artist Point, 5,210 feet above sea level. The road (now State Route 542) is locally famous for the annual Ski to Sea Race, and snow each winter prompts the closure of the 2.7‐mile stretch between Mt. Baker Ski Area lodge and Artist Point. This year, snow removal was completed on July 1, the gate was swung open (among the earlier opening dates in the last 15 years), and my brother John and I developed an interest in the weather forecast.

Yesterday, we took a trip on our motorcycles beneath beautiful blue skies to Artist Point. It would have been easier to toss the FZ1 up the mountain, but the FJR was in pole position in the garage, so the big beast got the job. Traffic was relatively light, so with only a few interruptions by slow‐moving sightseers, the ride was pleasantly conducive to wrist‐twisting. Laying on the smoothness for which it is known, the FJR made the miles happen with ease.

I have previously mentioned the amount of snow that falls on Mount Baker each year, and it is always a happy event on a sunny summer’s day to reach an elevation where one is surrounded by the stuff. The parking lot at Artist Point was encompassed by heaps of snow, and the restroom building was still buried beneath it. We never stay long at these turn‐around spots on our day trips, and so without much ado, we headed downhill toward home, the point of the trip having been made.

What was the point? This is a mountain that was formed atop earlier volcanic structures 100,000 years ago, shaped by glaciers that receded 14,000 years ago, and most recently erupted 6,700 years ago. According to legends of the Salish people, Kulshan was abandoned by his wives and achieved his height while looking for them.

During all this time Kulshan was lonely indeed. […] All the while he kept straining upward to see if he might not catch occasional glimpses of his departed wives. The children saw him and did likewise, profiting by the example of Kulshan. Today Kulshan and Duh‐hwahk are mountains and the children are the mountains south and east of their father Kulshan.²

The mountain is an ancient landmark I can see from my office window, and fewer than 150 years ago it was taboo to approach it. The point of going was to get there.